Zen is not hip. Let me explain this by example. I read in Time Magazine, November 10th, 1997, the words of a Mark Toft, nesting Gen-Xer: "Nesting means you get to trade a crazy public space for a place where you can define who you are." In terms of "defining who you are," Mark talks specifically about the things another nesting twentysomething couple mentioned in the article might have at home -- Persian rugs, an icebox of liqueurs and whiskeys, a decanter collection, jazz on the stereo. Essentially an advertising person's idea of identity. I shop therefore I am.

The same ethos is now applied in the heretofore anti-materialist realm of Zen Buddhism. I keep coming across people, for whom sitting Zen is a parlor game. Another interesting artifact to adorn their cultural-spiritual bookcase. About on the level of Mr. Toft's antique decanter collection.

And I am sorry to be the bearer of harsh truth. I hate to be the downer Buddhist dude. But my dear consumerist friends, while Zen can make one joyous and, in a sense, "free," Zen is not hip. It's not uncool either. It's beyond identity. It's not a colorful piece of clothing you bought at your East Village faux Beat department store. It questions your very idea of identity, the whole notion of personality, let alone your retread, consumer-driven version of personality.

We live our days in the formerly bold and intelligent United States of America, fussing with what is inessential, missing the very bone of the matter. Most of us make seemingly vital choices between "nesting" and "bar-hopping" when it is a false dichotomy to begin with. It's not a choice because all of it, from partying to procreating, are just Christmas ornaments on a fictional Christmas tree made, like all things, "by mind alone."

We need to participate in the world. We need to eat. And because we need to eat we make consumer decisions. We also make decisions about love, about meaning, about health, about a lot of things. But as long as those decisions are made from the shallow pool of shifting personality, we will always miss the target. Always. We may find ourselves at the Target department store at best.

It is not enough to sit Zen every day for half an hour. That is maintenance Zen. That is Zen which will help you maintain a good life. Perhaps a peaceful life. Maybe even a clear and successful life. That is Zen for you and you alone. Zen for personality. Decanter Zen. Whiskey Zen. Zen as an accessory in the well-appointed nest. Doing this kind of Zen will never help you understand the fundamental mistake which rules your existence. This kind of Zen will never show you who you are at the very root of your being.

Most of us who sit Zen don't want to take that extra step into a Zen that completely revolutionizes our being. A Zen that will strip away our concepts and leave us bare to face the very essence of who we are. We don't want that because it strips away what we hold dear-- the beautifully preserved and sustained persona. For some of us it is a very bare bones persona. We literally have no decanter collection. No favorite television shows. No CD collection. We don't bother to keep up with pop culture or the sports scores or the political shenanigans in Washington. We are pure. We are empty. And we are as attached as those proud twentysomething couples featured in Time Magazine. Because we too have an IDEA of who we are. And that idea is always, ALWAYS, going to fall short of who we really are.

So I say to you... become who you really are. Do not waste time. Wake up now. Thrust yourself into the great question: what am I? Am I my record collection? Am I my job description? Am I my network of friends, my wife, my boyfriend, my Harvard degree, my favorite basketball team, my Macintosh, my website, my choice of underwear, my preference for "South Park" over "The Simpsons," my brilliant creative work for the Coca Cola campaign? What am I? Don't know. What AM I? Don't know.

This is the question. Keep this question as you sit. In your life. And practice, practice, practice, practice HARD till you go beyond your personality ... till you go beyond your cozy serene maintenance Zen ... till you lose yourself in the emptiness ... till you cry out for the loss of your spiritual decanter collection ... and your witty pop retorts. And when you are broken down ... spent... teary-eyed ... on the gurney of don't know ... then you can go out and purchase those Persian rugs, that icebox of liqueurs and whiskeys, that decanter collection, that jazz on the stereo ... ALL OVER AGAIN, except now with an appreciative difference which goes beyond words and which will only become clear to you once you are there for yourself. Your true self.

Happy shopping.