We meet, we bow, we sit: I submit a written Haiku that encapsulates my experience, and I verbally discus my process to an "answer" I offered him a few months ago, a commentary on that answer.
At that time, all Sensei said was, "Ok, I will accept that answer", as if grudgingly doing me a favor, letting me off the barbed hook I had been dangling, struggling, dancing and sleeping on for several months. Perhaps he hoped that my "answer" would ripen into a subtle awareness, but if that was his hope, I'm afraid it may be dashed tomorrow.
For although I gave Sensei an answer he accepted, I bare a very big doubt that I understand anything more than I did when I first began.
How was this the right answer? It came to me in a dream.
I have Koan Fear and Doubt.
Instead of focusing on that immediate sensation, maybe I should be asking myself why I have fear and doubt at all.
Why does this doubt persist?
What might it mean about my practice?
What do I still struggle to deny or block or ignore?
Delusions are endless, that's for sure, and the fearful mind runs in every direction at once, never ceasing without a calm abiding.
Sometimes that calm abiding is very far from my true self.
The koan is still cooking....