It is the nature of the Zen beast that in the beginning of initiating something new in the craft one’s whole being-ness is put into the task. Then, by and large, that familiar territory becomes so comfortable that one just sits on the rump of deep-seated self-satisfaction. But the newness of discovery is gone. What remains is the smelly cushion that harbors no miracle but only fast-fading images of the glory that was once the Unborn initiative, one innately launched out of intuitive resourcefulness, but now consisting of only incessantly farting-away the moments and memories of no good effort.
Here is the message: it is all well and good developing, even fine-tuning one’s own methods in reaching the heights of self-awareness and realization, but it is a mistake to sit with them exclusively. When the air becomes stiflingly stale, recollect just what newness of life entails—a willingness to set aside old toys and invoke that spirit of new-discovery again and again. That’s the real beauty of Zen.