Enlightenment (n.) often vanishes as fast as it first dawned, because people expect it to change them and go bouncing around as if they'd inherited a fortune.
Enlightenment (n.) stays out of reach while it is a state to attain with tests of success; it is rather freedom to be the failure one is.
Enlightenment (n.) can be simply the feeling that the ordinary — things as they normally are — is odd, uncanny and wildly improbable.
Enlightenment (n.) is moving in time with life, in perfect step with its changing music.
Enlightenment (n.) can no more be handed from one man to another than you can eat another person's dinner for him.
Enlightenment (n.) has no prescription: to say it is this, or is not this, makes two realities in the universe where there is one.
Enlightenment (n.) treated as something to attain by discipline is self-arrogance.
Enlightenment (n.) is like finding an immeasurably precious jewel in one's smallest acts and lowest thoughts — found, as all jewels are, in the depths of the earth or lying in the mud.
Enlightenment (n.) is no Enlightenment unless it is shared and circulated; it is nobody's property, and those who try to own it do not understand it.
Enlightenment (n.) is when watching snow fall is so much one with God that adding God would be like painting roses red.
Enlightenment (n.) is not a feeling but feeling, not a thought but thinking.
Enlightenment (n.) returns you to where you started: first mountains are mountains, then with a little doctrine they are not, and fully enlightened, mountains are mountains again.
Enlightenment (n.) creates no new state of affairs; it recognizes what always is — all things are in Nirvana from the very beginning.
Enlightenment (n.) in Zen is escape from the double bind that dualistic self-control locks us in — what current jargon would call insight.
Enlightenment (n.) comes in stages in Nü Chü's teaching: first forget worldly matters, then external things, then your own existence — and then you see the One.