Zen?

Spent most of the morning rewriting a piece of short fiction. There is a sort of Zen quality to this activity. You know that it may, indeed, be published…somewhere, someday, by some small literary journal…but it will make you no fortune. No material good will come of it. Let us be frank, indeed, and confess that no one may ever read it. Not even the editors of the journal…other than, of course, for the cursory glance.

Yet, you turn to it anyway, with a passion. You do not complain, or at least do so quietly, without expectation of redress. Is there, then, something spiritual to be gained? Do you emerge the better for it? Is your soul more pure?

I doubt that very much. But perhaps that is the point of Zen, if Zen can be said to have a point. What is the use of belles-lettres? May haps the value is not in the answer but the act of query.