Last sit, I tried to sit without adding anything. No breath technique, no loving-kindness phrases, no tallying. Just sitting, letting the room be a room.
Then the mind offered a little menu: sit right, sit deep, sit pure, sit like a mountain. Each one seemed useful. Each one also made the sitting feel like a performance.
I’m curious: when we sit simply, what do we let go of first? The story about the sitting? The need to check whether we are doing it well? The hope that next sit will be better?
In shikantaza, just sitting is often described as letting things be as they are. But in a small kitchen, a noisy street, a tired body, that “as they are” can be very close. It can be dust, creaks, a half-formed thought, a wish for a cue.
I don’t want to turn this into a rule. I’m asking from direct experience: what makes a simple sit stay open, rather than becoming a quiet test of self? What do you set down when the sitting gets too neat?