In Paul Di Filippo's Ribofunk, there's a short story where two kids down neuropharms for chemically induced satori:

The tropes had been expertly reverse-engineered from a sampling of
meditating monks: in the case of Jinx's drink, from the mind of the Dalai Lama
himself. In a minute or so, the world took on a shimmering translucence, and I
felt connected to the whole universe. Nothing mattered, but everything
counted. All my problems were non-existent.

 "Nothing mattered, but everything counted," that's the smartest, Zennest thing I've read in a long time. Still savoring it.