Practicing alone

There's a practice of maintaining awareness; in that sense, Zen practice exists. But so long as is we're alive, there's the question of awareness. We can't avoid it. In that sense, there's no way to avoid practice, or even to do it. It's just being alive. Though there are certain formal activities that assist us in waking up (which we call Zen practice if we want), real Zen practice is just being here right now and not any adding anything to this.

In a sense, Zen is a religious practice. Religion really means to rejoin that which seems to be separate. Zen practice helps us to do that. But it's not a religion in the sense that there's something outside of ourselves that's going to take care of us. A lot of people who practice and have no formal religious affiliation. I have nothing against formal religion; it all religions there are some remarkable people who truly practice and know what they're doing. But there are also people who have no connection with formal religion whatsoever, yet who practiced just as well. In the end there is no practice except what we're doing each second.

It is more difficult to practice alone, but it's not impossible. It's useful to come to a Zen Center to get a foundation, then maintain some contact long distance and come to sit with others when one can. When one practices alone, it's like swimming against the current. In a community of persons practicing together, we have a mutual language and common understanding of what practice is.

The Promise That is Never Kept page 51 to 52, Nothing Special by Charlotte Joko Beck