“I’ll be with you in a moment,” the sales clerk said with a nod.

“When?” I replied.

“In just a moment.”

“Which moment?”

“The moment I finish with this customer.”

“‘The’ moment?”

“Zen.”                                        

“No, I’m Methodist.”

“I attend the Center for Thought Control.”

“What is that?”

“What is zen?”

A few years ago, I reviewed a book that deals with the connection of photography and zen.  Prior to reading Zen and the Magic of Photography by Wayne Rowe, I had no understanding of zen.

I’d heard of it.

I’m a baby boomer.

Because of the Beatles I’d heard of transcendental meditation.

Most references to “zen” had also included “Buddhism” or “Buddhist.”

The years of my youth did not include the initiative to seek out nor investigate other beliefs or thought systems. Such an attitude often breeds a lack of understanding.  It’s easy to see the tip of an iceberg, make up a story to explain it, and proceed as if that concoction was the truth.

Now, we’re at the personalized, customized reality part.

“Oh, that’s her reality.”

“For him, that’s the way life is — his world view.”

“Honey, did you take your lithium this morning?”

It was a very interesting and satisfying discovery to find out that zen isn’t what I thought it was.

A simple definition of zen is “meditation”. Wikipedia says this of meditation: ” a holistic discipline by which the practitioner attempts to get beyond the reflexive, ‘thinking’ mind into a deeper state of relaxation or awareness.” Being “in the moment” can apply to anything from motorcycle maintenance to religion to photography — to murder.

A character in my first novel practices zen.

She gets into the moment.

She becomes “one” with her weapon, the bullet, and the target.

It’s kinda like zen and archery, only with a gun and live ammunition.

Meet Claudia Barry, a sixty-two year old woman contemplating retirement.

A baby boomer.

She’s a knockout.

She’s an elite professional assassin who has mastered the art of disguise.

A cousin, a photographer, introduced her to Zen.

Her grandfather was a motorcycle repairman.

Now, she practices Zen — with every squeeze of the trigger.