09/17/2025
At the Zen Center of Denver in the early nineties we began the zazen instruction portion of our introductory seminar by saying, “Practicing zazen is a commitment to failure.” This would occur a few hours into a weekend seminar that included an eight-hour day on Saturday and two hours on Sunday morning, when the seminar participants joined the sangha for zazen, a chanting ceremony and a teisho, a talk presented by the teacher. It was a deep dive into beginning Zen practice.
When I went to my first seminar and heard that I was making a commitment to failure, I initially thought, “How refreshing! We are going to be learning something that we can’t do.” Then I thought, “How discouraging!” To hear this a couple of hours after entering a Zen Center for the first time. This is our introduction to Zen?”
But there are many pursuits in life which we expect to result in failure.
In strength training we calculate an amount of weight and the number of repetitions until we can lift the weight no more. We build strength through failure.
In practicing a musical instrument, the first few notes of a melody or the awkward fi*****ng of chords seems foreign and clumsy but we return and repeat the melody or chord changes over and over again until some facility begins to develop. We are always practicing at the edge of failure, whether as a beginner or an aficionado.
I once played an open mic as a solo acoustic guitarist and a young man with a stand- up bass asked if he could join me on stage. Improvisation with a musician you’re meeting for the first time either goes very well or becomes an absolute train wreck. I figured “nothing ventured, nothing gained” so we both climbed up on stage and began to play. And he immediately meshed perfectly with what I was playing, which was admirable, because he had never heard my repertoire before. He was the new kid in town. We played three or four songs together and my immediate thought was, “Band!”
When we stepped off the stage, I thanked him profusely then asked him what kind of music he enjoyed playing the most. He said, “Jazz.” I was surprised because he had immediately picked up on the contemporary acoustic folk rock I was playing. I asked, “Why jazz?” And he said, "Because I’m not very good at it.” That was one of the most encouraging things I ever heard in my life as a musician! “I love it, because I can’t do it!”
There is always a challenge drawing us back to what we love but can’t do, again and again. The human body can be stretched only so far into a yoga asana. The mind can only retain so much in a classroom hour.
Life is full of intentional failure. Anything to which we aspire becomes the practice of failure. So, if we attempt something, fail, then quit, then that’s that, it’s a done deal. But isn’t there always something left on the table when we walk away?
The most important and necessary failure that occurs in Zen practice is the failure of expectation. The desire for achievement, improvement and prowess begins to fall away and be replaced by sitting and living with things just as they are…no more, no less.
And this is the real gift of zazen: life just the way it is. What a relief! I don’t need to conform to some idea about how zazen should be, of whether I am doing it right or doing it wrong, I just need to do it. Toss the progress tracker at the door!
And what an interesting way to experience life: now my back is out of whack, now daylight and shadow create a delicate dance across the floor and wall, now I can’t keep my eyes open, now I am irritated with my spouse.
Now zazen is graceful and elegant, now it is awkward and uncomfortable, kind of like…life! It’s all the unfolding of our unique and unrepeatable being.
We can take our reluctance and resistance in hand, disappointment can straighten our cushions, joy can place each careful step in kinhin. We can admit everything. And discover our frequent unwillingness to do so. “Can’t I somehow change the channel on this pain in my knees? Hmmm, I guess not!” So, the heavy eyelids and sour stomach are just enough…a perfect fit. The way your hands fold into a lovely mudra is IT, the whole ball of wax. Your life is a perfect fit.
