Good morning (just woke up, little drowsy)
Picture your emotions and thoughts as your enemy. A horde of foul beasts running towards you ready to eat you and spit out your bones. They are 20 feet tall with glowing red eyes, holding utensils of destruction.
Zen is neither running nor fighting. Seeing no enemy. Accepting the beasts as they are, in all their hairy glory, and offering them some tea.