dokusan desire

I met with one of the teachers at the zen center to have "dokusan" (practice discussion). I think dokusan can be a lot of different things but for me, this time, it was a chance to ask a question of  the teacher that was related to where I was at in my practice.
I knew what question I wanted to ask: Can you tell me about the first time that you didn't want to try to control things?
I was asking this question because I had had an experience in which I actually didn't like controlling the kids in my classroom. This experience had been brief, I felt it hours after the interaction between the students, and it didn't last- I was happy to go right back to contolling the kids the next day. But in that moment in which I didn't like controlling them, I saw that this might help me to begin to accept them. So I was curious to find out if the teacher had had a similar experience when they first stopped wanting to control things.
As I considered asking this question, I considered how the teacher would respond to it. I pictured them asking me a question in return, I pictured them praising me for noticing the connection between control and acceptance. Finally, I pictured the teacher smiling with me in a shared understanding of this practice.
That made me rethink my question: Why was I asking it in the way that I was asking it? If I really just wanted to know about how people experience letting go of the desire to control why wasn't I asking that?
And that's when I saw that what I really was asking for in asking this question was to have a shared experience with the teacher, to have a personal connection with them. I saw this and I noticed it and I considered rephrasing the question to remove the personal piece of it.
But as I did this, it changed the nature of the question- it turned it into "Do people do this?" or "Is it like this?" instead of "Tell me about it" and to me, the first two were limiting or assuming while the third one was broad and inquisitive. I also felt the first question, it really was what I felt and I thought that, even though I knew that it was inappropriate for me to try to create a personal connection with a teacher, it was what I wanted, it was what I felt, and so I decided to leave it the way that it was.

As I was waiting to meet with the teacher, I imagined what other things we would talk about, prepared my answers, and imagined their response: I wasn't in the zendo each morning because I was sitting at home. (what discipline you have to do it on your own!) I was doing yoga with the extra time I had not going to the zendo (oh good- that should help with your posture). I was focusing more on my breathing and my posture seemed more aligned (ahhh, you did your homework). How was my zazen? "Interesting" I pictured myself saying (and I pictured the thoughts in the teacher's head: Ahhhh, she's not evaluating her zazen, she's just noticing it- what a good student she is).

And the thing is, I actually felt totally fine in all of this because all of it was true. I had a question that was true to my heart and what I was feeling at the moment, I really was practicing at home intentionally and, as a result, was more focused on breath and posture, and I really was approaching my zazen with interest and curiosity (though this was only after three days of disappointment). I really thought that I was going in to dokusan with honesty and awareness.

But I wasn't. I was going in with desire.

Deep down, I wanted a personal connection with the teacher.
Deep down, I wanted them to praise me.
Deep down, I wanted acceptance from them that I was a good student, that this was what I should be doing with my life, that I was in-like-Flynn in the zen world and was made for this.

And I went in with these desires and because of that, much of my dokusan was spent doing two things:

feeling disappointed. The teacher answered my questions clearly and in a way that left me with tools to develop my awareness around my relationship with control and acceptance. It's just that I wasn't actually wanting answers; I felt disappointed because answers didn't give me what I wanted: praise and acceptance.

saying things that would illicit praise, acceptance, and personal connection; instead of actually listening to the teachings I was being given.

So I left dokusan disappointed. Actually, I left doksuan feeling confused, hurt, and unsettled. What I wanted was to be accepted and praised as a student but I left feeling foolish and like a beginner- which, now that I think about it, I probably was, probably am.

But I learned a few things:
For me, the main reason I'm not feeling praise and acceptance for being a student is because I won't even accept myself as a student. It's been one of the biggest obstacles to my practice. How can I possibly begin to consider myself a good student if I refuse to even see myself as a student at all?

Second, all I really "need" to do is be present to dokusan. There were about a million times during my doksuan where all I thought about was what I "should" be doing: I hear the breakfast bell, should I stop so they can make it to breakfast on time? I have nothing to say, should I just stare at the teacher? And there were times when I acted from my desires; I thought up stuff that was only slightly related to what they said, just to try to connect. I wasn't even present to my own doksuan.

Third: dokusan isn't a place for desire. Dokusan is a place to ask a question and to listen to the answer. That's all.

At least, for me, for now, I think that's all it is.