In the Zen monastery, in the zendo, the meditation hall, watches are not allowed. And I’ve noticed that here, during the meditation, some people keep checking the time. Like, gee, I wonder how much longer I’m going to have to sit here? Is he late? Is he torturing me again? Or whatever!

It’s really recommended during meditation periods that you keep your watch somewhere you won’t see it. Otherwise you’re denying yourself the pain of not knowing. And that’s an endless detour. Don't deny yourself the pain of not knowing! That’s a very powerful and important pain. It seems quite harmless, of course, "oh, I’m just looking at my watch. Just want to see what time it is. I want to know, is it ten more minutes, thirty more minutes, one more minute?" But again, that's a detour around something that can be very powerful. Because ultimately it’s all about not knowing. That’s really the secret teaching.

Now, you could look at this as just another rule you have to follow, that's restricting you when you don’t want to be restricted. I don’t know if that comes up for you in this situation, but it might. And that’s one way to perceive that, one way to see it; but it's a way that will only perpetuate suffering. Better to just experience what is. The urge to know: feel what that is. If you look at your watch—if you satisfy that urge, in other words—then you don’t get to feel it. You take it away from yourself; you’re denying yourself, actually. Ironic, but true.

In the Zen monastery, at least when I was there, if you moved in meditation you were hit with a stick. Not abusively, of course, it was done well; and there was a physiology to it, it stimulated the trapezius muscles to help you stay awake and help you stay focused. But they discovered over the centuries that sitting still was much more effective than moving around. That’s all. It’s not like you’re supposed to be torturing yourself, but there is a power in stillness. The path of stillness is like taking the Concorde to Europe as opposed to roller skating and swimming to Europe. Again, it’s not meant to be torture; it’s meant to be a well-discovered piece of advice.

So the need to move is another urge for you to feel—like needing to know what time it is—in the meditation period. Simply feel that urge, that compulsion to move. Now if you’re in pain and you need to shift your position because you’re injuring yourself, then move, obviously. But experiment with that, because we’re cooking here. This is a cooker, this is a little microwave we’ve got going here. You’re cooking from the inside out, and also from the outside in.

It can be helpful, when you're sitting, just to give yourself a little encouragement to stay with what is right now, as best you can. And if you really want to know what time it is, really want to know how much longer you're going to have to sit there, then feel that wanting to know, feel that pain. Otherwise you don’t get to feel it, and then it comes up again, and again, and again. But if you really feel it, you’re done. The struggle ends. Then you can enjoy yourself.

Stillness is the ease of being. It’s not holding yourself still. It’s not holding back from moving. Not looking at the watch is relaxing into not knowing, relaxing into the discomfort of not knowing. The grief, the suffering, the fear, whatever it is. The anger, the anxiety, the restlessness, the impatience. Whatever. It’s giving space to that. Ironically, it's stillness that allows that to move which needs to move. That’s all.