The first step in any practice is to know that we're imprisoned. Most people have no inkling: "Oh, everything's fine with me." Only when we begin to recognize that we're imprisoned can we begin to find a door and leave the prison. We have awakened enough that we know that we're in prison.
It's as if my problem is a dark, forbidding castle, surrounded by water. I find myself a little boat, and I begin to row away (...) Practice is like the process of rowing across the moat. First we're caught in our particular pseudoproblem. At some point, however, we realize that what seemed to be the problem is not the problem after all – that our problem is something much deeper. A light begins to dawn (...)
As we begin to row away, the water may be choppy and rough, making our rowing difficult. A storm may even throw us back against the shore, so that we can't get away for a while. Still, we keep trying, and at some point we put some distance between ourselves and the gloomy castle. We begin to enjoy life outside that castle a little bit. Eventually we may enjoy life enough that the castle itself now seems to be just another piece of debris floating in the water, no more important than anything else.
Charlotte Joko Beck
Nothing Special
Living Zen
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