I still think back to those days in Japan, when I studied zazen under the guidance of Rōshi Miaki. I had been looking for something in my life, and when I stumbled upon the group of monks, quietly sitting, I knew I had found my place. Eventually, I had to acknowledge that he was not the teacher for me. His koans were too difficult to understand, and I couldn’t overcome my resentment of the way he kept throwing his feces at me. Not to mention the lice.