Richard Collins, Abbot
(Kusen: Tuesday. 24 May 2026, New Orleans Zen Temple)
On Sunday, I talked about the tyranny of things, how things possess us far more than we possess things. But there’s also the tyranny of intangible things.
In No Fear Zen, I wrote about the error of talking about “my” practice, “my” zazen. As though we somehow own the practice. When we speak in this way, though, we don’t own the practice, the practice owns us.
Ego, as you know, in Latin simply means self (“I” or “me”). It is my sense of identity. It is a useful term of reference, a pointer, to something that is intangible. Like the “selfless soul” of the Kabbalah beneath the layers of our tangible self, or masks, our personae.
But when the ego gets reified, when it turns into a thing, brittle and defined, it becomes a burden and a hindrance. A circumscribed thing, a trapped thing, a caged thing. No longer free. Zazen lets us see the insubstantiality of this brittle mask we have created, the ego.
Our identity. Think about your ID, your identity card. This is a thing created by the state. It defines you and is created so as to limit you. Your drivers license, which says what you can and can’t do, whether you can buy liquor, for instance. Or your passport, which tells you where you can go, who can arrest you.
But the true self has no height or weight, no eye color, no hair color. No home address. It cannot be pictured. It resides at no address on any street or in any state or in any country. This is the self of zazen, the self of true freedom.
Yet when we come to zazen, our ego is still shameless. It is attached to doing things right. We worry about whether we play the instruents correctly, or lead the ceremony incorrectly. Egotism comes in many forms. Modesty is just as egotistical as arrogance or pride. We are still worried about how we will appear to others or to ourselves. When we practice selflessly, we don’t worry about such things. We just show up, ready to do what needs to be done.
On Sunday, I also talked about how we misinterpret discomfort as pain. We talk about “my” pain. This is no different than being owned by our possessions. We get owned by our interpretation of our perception. This is not freedom.
So whenever we are using those terms my, me, mine — my work, my love, my trauma — we need to try to deconstruct that a little bit. All of these are illusions that we need to dismantle. Or if that sounds too intentional, we need to allow them to fall into disuse. Beautiful illusions sometimes, ones that we like to cling to. But also painful illusions sometimes, ones that we want to escape. This is where our suffering comes from. The more we can let go of our own importance, concentrate on the well-being of others, the more we reduce not only the suffering of those around us, but also our own suffering.
And in this way our real purpose gets clarified. It’s not easy. But you wouldn’t be here if you were looking for something easy. It doesn't happen quickly. You probably remember the dedication from Daichi Zenji in the ordination ceremony. About how a horse doesn't show its strength on a short ride, but on the long journey. Similarly, people around us show their worth not in a few moments of time, but over the long haul. Just remember that everything passes. This is all momentary. It's up to you to decide what's important. What is it? What needs to be done — and what doesn't? Your answer will determine your freedom and your suffering. Hopefully you will decide in favor of something that is not just for your own indulgence.
