It's a matter of faithlessness sometimes, I fear.
But I have felt not just not Buddhist, but not anything. Like a white plate, emptied.
I had a shrine, but I turn away from it. I face the wall.
I say no prayers. nothing happens. But sit. sit, count, try again, and again. I sit every day. Every day. Sometimes short. Sometimes shorter. But I always sit.
No longer at night, because by then I am hating. Now, I just go to bed. and get up early.
I am somehow scrubbed of feeling. I am scrubbed of my religion. I have no religion I think.
I have not said a prayer, not dedicated any merit, not sat in a Buddha-field. But I have sat.
This morning after my practice I thought, this is no practice at all. Is this Buddhist? Am I Buddhist? Or am I just a person who sits? Is there any difference?
I don't know anything. But I do wake. I do find myself sitting on my cushion. I do find myself there.
I do find myself.