At Enkakuji Temple in Kamakura, at dawn on a March morning several years ago, I came as close as I ever have to satori, the Zen term for spiritual enlightenment. Don't get me wrong, I'm not claiming any sort of deep insight, just that there, in that corner of Kanagawa Prefecture, I came to understand something of what meditative practice can do.
I was on a four-day course in Zen Buddhism. We slept on old futons in the drafty, creaking temple (Enkakuji was founded in 1282), and rose at 4 a.m. to do the morning session of meditation. The monks opened the shutters and the chill predawn air flowed in. As we sat cross-legged in the zazen posture, I wondered what I had to "do" to meditate.
The monks settled into zazen like ducks to water. I, on the other hand, sat there awkwardly for hours and my mind drifted.
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