Sit with me for a moment. A bell sounds, the body settles, the breath comes in. No plan, no mark, no ledger. Just the felt sense of being here.
In practice, it is easy to let a small pause become evidence. I breathe, so I am doing it right. I remember, so I have made progress. The mind turns the cushion into a scoreboard.
The Buddha spoke often of letting go, not of keeping a tally. A pause can be a hinge: it opens the next breath, the next step, the next kindness. It does not need a stamp to be real.
How do you keep a practice plain? Where does a helpful cue become a tiny test? Please bring your view, even if it disagrees with mine. The question wants more than one voice.