Obey My Blog

Another day, another Best of 2009 Blog Challenge article. Yippee!

Today’s topic: Word or phrase. A word that encapsulates your year... For me this would be feeling. Yeah, that’s right. I said it – FEELING. I’m talking about feelings, man.

…

“Congratulations.”

“On what?” I reply, with astonishment.

“On feeling!”

I’ve just explained to my Zen teacher (who is not officially my Zen teacher since I haven’t taken any Precepts, but for all intents and purposes, is my Zen teacher) that I feel more emotional than ever since starting Zazen and I don’t know how to deal with that.

He doesn’t see this as a problem.

But I do.

I also confess my irrational fear of the bell at the end of meditation and how embarrassed I am by this.

I wait in anticipation for his reply. I’m not really sure what to expect from him, but I do not expect this:

“So?”

So?! But I’m not supposed to be scared of a stupid little bell! It’s not Zen to be scared.

Or is it?

I find it amusing that I got into Tai Chi and Zazen thinking they would help me deal with emotions that I saw as problematic. And that I believed these emotions were something to be dealt with. When I had dealt with these emotions properly, I thought, things would be peachy.

Umm, no.

Not exactly.

While Tai Chi and Zazen have helped carry me through the ups and downs of my emotions, they have not eliminated them. In fact, I am faced with more emotions than ever.

But why in the world did I ever think this was a bad thing?

When I first began reading about and practicing Zen, I’ll admit that I kind of had this ridiculous notion that being Zen meant being emotionless or at the very least, completely in control of one’s emotions at all times. This was initially appealing to me because I consider myself a rather emotional person (although a friend of mine recently referred to me as “laid back and cheeky-smiled” and nothing remotely resembling the “spastic stresspile” I sometimes claim to be… huh!).

But to practice Tai Chi and Zazen is not to become some emotionless zombie, impervious to pain and pleasure. Very few people can do that. And honestly, who would want to?  As Grace Schireson points out in Zen Women (I should probably not recommend books I haven’t finished yet, but I am so excited to have this in my hot little hands that I am going to tell you to go get it right now!),

“Zen practice means finding the mind of meditation in times of fear, anger, and desire, rather than trying to banish fear, anger, and desire from our consciousness.”

This is not easy. But something about returning to that cushion every day and going through my Tai Chi routine every morning brings me back around and returns me to my center.

I still kind of  fear the bell at the end of meditation and every once in a while, it still makes me jump. But now I almost welcome it. Now it is not a problem. I feel (almost) everything. And in a strange sense, it is a relief.