Update on zen practice

It occurred to me this morning that I have not written about zen practice in some time.  In some ways, this is an indication of where I am with practice and it might be useful to other people to know about this place.


In practical terms I am sitting regularly every day, sitting sesshin (group meditation intensives) regularly, studying with my teacher through podcasts and other recordings, and I have added brush-work to my practice routine (what you might recognize as Oriental calligraphy).  My ethical decisions are guided by the Buddhist precepts and fundamentally by the Bodhisattva's vow, I.e., "I vow to live for the benefit of all sentient beings."  I mention this not as some role model to be emulated, but just to provide a window into these parts of my life that are not always visibly apparent.  I am certain in the future things will change.  They always do. 


I am realizing the Truth contained in many of the pithy sayings about and around zen practice that regularly seem confusing and intentionally crafted to obscure or frankly Bullshit something.  "Zen is useless" is a good example.


"Using zen" presents a double-bind.  Anything that is useful isn't zen. Anything that is a means or method to attain something incorporates the deluded intentions of an abstracted conceptual view.  Zen is liberation from such views.


I don't mean to imply that abstracted conceptual views are bad, inferior, stupid, or in any way something to be eschewed.  If you didn't nurture and operate within these views you would be unable to get dressed and go to work in the morning, or feed yourself, or care for your family, or any number of things that have intrinsic value to us as social beings.


it is just that operating within these views is something different from seeing things are they really are.  A baseball bat is actually mostly empty space (we know this from investigations into quantum physics, which seems to me to be another method for seeing things as they really are), but if you swing it at someone's head, which is also mostly empty space, the collision between these two concepts of empty space is going to appear as if both are actually solid.


Grasping some notion that we somehow are able to transcend the solid appearance of those two objects and cause them to pass through each other harmlessly is delusion.  Just because I "get" the reality there conceptually doesn't grant me some special powers to change appearances, regardless of what may in fact actually be possible.  If it can be that a baseball bat can swing harmlessly through someone's head it won't happen because someone had a conceptual notion of that coupled to an intention to accomplish it.


That is, we have to deal with appearances.  You appear to be real, I appear to be real, but we don't have to confuse appearances with reality.  That is, we don't have to grip solidly to the notion that these appearances represent reality any more than we have to believe that when we kill someone in a video game that anything really living actually dies.  This background awareness does not change our ability to play the game 


For example, I sometimes struggle with being single.  My dissatisfaction with this state mostly springs from the notion that things would be better if I had a partner.  For many reasons, this is a reasonable notion.  Humans seem to do better in pair-bonds for the most part, it's likely I would find regular sexual activity with a partner satisfying, and there are undeniable economic benefits to sharing some resources in the maintenance of a household life in the world in which I live.  Also, it seems that married people live longer. 


Gripping tightly to this view requires that I dismiss some things I also see as being less relevant.  That is, I have to dismiss the real pain and struggle that I see my married friends undergoing in their marriages.  I have to dismiss the many satisfactions of the freedom to be the final authority on my living situation, budget, travel plans, etc, etc, etc.  To be convinced of the notion that being single is an absolute tragedy I have to abstract a concept from the available facts.  Including the notion that a longer life is de facto a better life. 


The reality underlying all of this is we are all alone, even in the midst of orgasm with an ideal sex partner we are ultimately undergoing that ecstasy alone.  It is only us.  There is nothing but singularity.  That's reality.


The buddha-dharma teaches that these concepts, while useful, are not real.  That is, when I talk about "seeing things as they really are" I am talking about a constant practice of reminding myself that something very different is actually going on than the narrative in my head.  The narrative represents my mind's reaction to reality, it is not real itself.


This is why sitting quietly and still while staring at a wall is useful to me.  When I settle down my activity to this level, in spite of the fact that mind is as active as ever, perhaps because I am doing so little else, I am able to discern perception from awareness.  Perception takes up a lot of space, it seems to be everything there is, but actually there's a space outside of it.  This is pure awareness.


As I realize that all of my pain is derived from perception, awareness is indistinguishable from perfect bliss, I find significant comfort in knowing that however solid that baseball bat appears, it is actually mostly empty space.  That is, my narrative about what is going on is not what is going on.  There's real peace there.


This peace is with you, right now.  All that any of us have to do is get out of our way.  Christians, Jews and Muslims seem to call this God's love, finding comfort there.  Hindus call it something else, Atheists find it in their release from the notion of external metaphysical authority.  There is only one Reality, and it is right in front of us at all times.


That's where we are. 

Three fairy tales

I had an insight today. Much of the pain in life can be traced to my belief in one or more of three fairy tales.

1. Most people eat what they want, as much as they want, as often as they want, and they suffer no adverse consequences for this behavior, I.e., they are at the weight they want, have the body contours they want, and rarely deny themselves a food/eating experience they want.

2. Most people have romantic relationships that develop effortlessly with each participant confident in their position in the relationship, comfortable with the pace of the relationship, always sure of, and comfortable with, the next step in the relationship.

3. Most people are rewarded professionally according to their abilities and the degree to which they contribute positively to the organization. Success is the inevitable consequence of the diligent and faithful application of hard work, skill and integrity.

Stopped laughing yet?

Of course, I "know" these are fairy tales. The extent to which I believe that these fallacies do not operate in my consciousness is exactly the extent to which they exercise an unseen influence on my conclusions concerning how well things are going. That is, the more I believe that I don't really buy into these notions the more I kick myself for not living a life which lives up to them.

It's like advertising. Advertisers know well that advertising messages exert the greatest influence over people who have convinced themselves that advertising has no effect on them. Advertising has little effect on people who are aware of the fact that they can be influenced by advertising. These people factor in that fact into their buying decision. They know their opinions about what to buy are skewed by advertising and that very awareness mitigates the effect. I thought about this just today when buying batteries at Radio Shack. I almost paid more for the brand name batteries until I reflected on the fact that I have no experience that they are any better or last any longer than the cheaper house brand batteries. So, I bought the house brand.

When I realize that my dissatisfaction with my life mostly derives from the fact that I buy into one of these three fairy tales it dissipates as rapidly as my preference for the brown batteries over the black ones. What are your fairy tales?

My First Hike

Two years ago, in October 2009, while visiting New Mexico, I drove two friends of mine to a trailhead in the Pecos Wilderness so they could hike up to a lake called Lake Baldy (near a peak called Mount Baldy).  I wanted to go with them.  That was not an option. I weighed over 400 pounds.  Walking one tenth of the distance they planned to cover that day was my limit, and that was my limit on flat ground at sea level--they were climbing from about 9000 feet to over 11,000 feet in elevation over rugged wilderness trail.

I watched them disappear on the trail with tears in my eyes.  I resolved on that spot to make this hike within a year.

Two years later, I just finished my first hike. It was not this one, it was shorter and not as demanding, but it was in the same wilderness, just sort of over to the east and a bit lower, but it was a real hike into the wilderness.  I just did something I've never done before, something two years ago I could not do.

We hiked from the Iron Gate trailhead to the Mora Flats in the Pecos Wilderness of Northern New Mexico.  We hiked trail 249 to where it crosses 250, then taking 250 down into Mora Flats.  Mora Flats is a flat area between mountain ranges, a long oblong rolling meadow along a river bank bordered by mountain ranges on all sides.  It is about 2 miles long and about a quarter of a mile wide.  It is covered in soft grasses and wildflowers.  Most people arrive on horseback.

It is about a 400 foot descent into the Flats from Iron Gate.   Unfortunately, the trail is not straight down.  You descend about 300 feet as you navigate over the ridges on the west side.  That is, you begin with a 200 foot climb, then you descend 400 feet, then make 4 sections of 100 foot climbs (over three miles of trail) before at the end you drop over 500 feet down on to the flats.  Once on the flats, we hiked about halfway up to camp right where two rivers ran together.

So, it is a little easier going in than coming out.

My companions live at 7000 feet.  I live at sea level.  I was carrying a 50 pound pack, but my limiting factor wasn't my legs or feet, it was catching my breath.  I am long accustomed to carrying far more than 50 pounds in excess of my current curb weight.    My problem was I was hiking 9500 feet in excess of the altitude to which I am accustomed.  My companions weren't  skipping through the tulips either, everyone was huffing and puffing, but they could hike faster than I so I became self-conscious about this.

Talk about never satisfying expectations!  Even hiking high country with a heavy pack I wasn't performing up to my specs!  The hardest part about being the slow hiker was that I never got to stop hiking.  They would hike ahead of me and wait, taking in the awesome beauty around us for a moment or two while they waited on me without the burden of having to think about where to step next.  Just as I trudged up to where they were standing they would take off again.  I would never break stride, I would just keeping putting one foot in front of the other, my friends just momentarily in closer proximity than usual.

I was very focused on not falling down. I was very aware that a relatively minor injury could be major hassle.  My attention was completely focused on my steps.  Each step was the entire universe, I just took care of them one at a time.  It was marvelous zen practice, but it meant I couldn't really look around.  My eyes were constantly scanning the trail in front of me, I needed to be sure of every step.  I was on a rough, rocky trail.  I was carrying 50 pounds on my back.  I did not want to fall.

My tent on the Mora River

Once we got to the campsite it became clear that a mistake had been made when packing.  I had all the water.  My pack was almost twice as heavy as anyone else's.  We made camp fairly rapidly, within an hour of arriving I was napping on my sleeping bag.  There were sheepish apologies about the packs. If it had not been my first hike I might have suspected the mistake, but I don't know how much my pack is supposed to weigh.

It was wet, and one of those effed up situations that follows me around came to a head.  The day before I was making a run to REI for a few supplies.  I solicited a list from my companions and they began just mentally calling out what they would need and checking what they had against what they needed.  On the list was newspaper.  I put it on my list and they both laughed at me, saying we didn't need to buy newspaper, there was plenty at the house, ha ha, funny guy for putting that in the list.

So, I took it off my list and forgot about it.  Well, guess what we needed to start a fire and didn't have?  We almost didn't have a fire because of it.  If it had not been for a section of rope I found tied to a tree we would not have been able to start one.  All of the leaves and twigs around were damp.  It had been raining.  But, because of the rope I found we had a fire, a truly great campfire, it did finally come together nicely.   We went to bed after a while, which was good, because another downpour was on the way.

We had good tents pitched on good ground, so the rain was just a sleep aid.  I was the first to wake up, so I hiked up on top of the ridge we were next to, made some instant iced coffee (that ice-maker was heavy, too!) and watched the sun come up after my morning sit.

I guess that's where it all hit me.  I had hiked into the wilderness and spent the night.  There wasn't anyone else around.  We had gone far beyond the reaches of casual campers, they were miles back behind us.  I was on an outcropping of rocks where two rivers converge, surrounded by spectacular wildlife, and I had gotten there under my own power with my shelter, food and water on my back.  Wow.  This is a life I've never known before, a life I thought I never would have until very recently.  There's good reason why people go to all the trouble to do this kind of thing.

After my companions arose we had breakfast, freeze-dried chicken teriyaki, which was surprisingly good.  They wanted to make a day hike up the river, which I didn't appreciate the appeal of until it dawned on me I wouldn't be carrying a pack.  Oh cool, we can just walk.  Walking is fun.

Vibram Five Finger Shoes
after a 12 mile hike in the Wilderness.

Because I had wisely risked my first hiking experience in my Vibram Five Finger shoes, I could walk on rocky trail, along river bottoms, grassy meadows, creek beds, and slog through mud without worrying about swamping my shoes.  If and when they got wet they simply air-dried in a few minutes.  I had not one blister or any kind of problem with my feet, and I could use my toes for fine balance.   I can't recommend these things enough.

We hiked about a mile up river, bushwhacking (off trail hiking) the entire way, it was a slow go, but we went to places probably unseen by human eyes for many seasons.  There's no way to describe how interesting and intimidating this is.  You are on your own.  If something went wrong out here a rescue would take days.

We got back down to the campsite after a couple of hours and took down the camp.  I was really good at this, I finished long before my companions and I kept waiting for them to put stuff into my pack.  It seemed too light.  As it turns out, apparently out of shame for loading me up on the way in, my pack out was at least 20 pounds lighter.  That was a good thing, because the hike out was almost all uphill.

As with most physical challenges, the real challenge was mental.  As I climbed the ridge, my mouth got dry because I was breathing so hard and fast.  I wanted to quit, but I realized that all of my quit had to do with a forecasted dread of what things would be like in the future.  Right now, right then and there, I was fine.  I had enough wind, I could take my next step, and the entire hike, even the "worst" parts of it in hindsight, were all like this moment.  I can make the next step, I just can't imagine making all of the next steps.

Well, as it turns out, you only have to make the next step.  If you keep making the next step, all the steps get made.

It rained and hailed on us on the way out.  This was another odd wilderness realization I had.  When it started raining, my natural inclination was to look for shelter, there's gotta be a Starbucks around here somewhere, right?  No, there's no where to go when it rains, or hails.   You just keep going.  It wasn't bad, but leaving that inclination to shelter alone was also an interesting practice.

It got tired on the last mile, even though it was level or downhill.  I was spent.  I hiked even slower, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other.  Never before has the sound of a car door slamming been such sweet music to my ears (we could hear the trailhead before we could see it).  Never before has sitting in an automotive seat been such unending bliss.  I was mostly looking forward to not carrying a pack, even if it was only 30 pounds on the way out.

I still had to drive down over a muddy road in ill repair before I could rest, but that was no big deal.  I pushed down on a pedal and hills were climbed.  Magic.

Mora Flats September 2011

I learned a few things.  I can hike.  This was not a terribly challenging hike, but it was no training-wheel experience either.  My companions, both experienced hikers, were hitting the Ibuprofen when we got home too.  They were tired.  The last part of the hike out kicked their ass too.  They've hiked much more, and much longer distances, but this was a hike.  I can do this.