A map is useful until it becomes the road. I sit zazen and try shikantaza—just sitting—without adding a report. Sometimes a cue, a bow, a precept, even a small devotional gesture, begins to look like evidence. Not bad. Not bad. But if it becomes evidence, the path can start to shine while the ground stays muddy.
The Buddha’s teaching is not a set of trophies. It is a way of seeing: impermanence, not-self, the arising and passing of things. We can honour the lamp without turning it into a scoreboard. A boundary can be care, not armour. A question can stay open without becoming a map.
I am curious how others notice when practice starts to polish an image of itself. Do you rely on a teacher, a community, silence, or an old creak in the chair? What cue tells you the path is still a path?