A monk asked, “What is enlightenment?”

The master said, “No one home.”

The monk said, “Then who answers?”

The master said, “Exactly.”

Sit.

Thought arises.

Don’t invite it for tea.

Don’t kick it out either.

Just don’t give it your chair.

Meditation is what remains when effort collapses.

A student asked, “What happens when thoughts stop?”

The master said, “Who told you they stop?”

This is why meditation feels frightening to the mind. The mind survives by narration. Meditation is narrative extinction. The ego calls this “void.” Zen calls it home.

When awareness has nothing to chew on, it tastes itself.

Thought is the noisy, intrusive neighbour. Meditation is realizing you don’t live in his apartment.

Modern seekers sit like statues, brows furrowed, trying to “achieve stillness.” Zen laughs at this. Stillness is already here. It is the background hum of existence.

Meditation is the absence of mentation.

Not the destruction of thought, but your retirement from it.