Nothing Less, Nothing More
This time last year I was a mess. Okay. Not completely. But I was seriously stressed out.
I look back and I realize how incredibly hard I was on myself. I also look back and realize that I had no earthly idea what I was getting myself into as far as Tai Chi and Zen were concerned. No clue!
Well, sort of…but not really.
I was trying so hard. I really was. Getting into Tai Chi and Qigong and then Zen was supposed to help me. They were supposed to help me become the person I wanted to be – stable. Or at least just not insane.
And they have definitely helped me accomplish this. But what I didn’t realize at the time was that I wasn’t insane. I was actually stable (sort of). And I was actually okay. But I thought I was supposed to be something I wasn’t. I thought I was supposed to be someone else. I thought I was supposed to be this ideal I kept in my head – this perfect, unattainable ideal comprised of god-only-knows what.
How wrong was I! Well, as it turns out…very!
And so I set out for ways to reach this. And I ended up -
Right. Back. Where. I. Started.
Apparently I’m just supposed to be me. Nothing else. Nothing more.
Really??!
I try not to write too much about zazen here, because that’s not what most of you come here for. You come here to read about Tai Chi (I think). But I learn so much from zazen and I have found it helpful to bring what I learn into my Tai Chi practice and vice versa.
Many times I have stood in Standing Meditation and been overwhelmed with an emotion I had been trying (in vain) to suppress. Many times I have come home from a Saturday morning at the Zen Center utterly exhausted and in tears.
These activities are not to be taken lightly. And yet they are some of the gentlest ways to get back into your body – to become aware of the things you’ve kept buried in the muscles of your back, shoulders, neck and head. Move these things around a bit and you start noticing things come up. Sit or stand in meditation with nothing else but you and your never ending thoughts and see what you find. It is amazing, horrifying, humorous, delightful, scary, pleasant, gorgeous and sad.
This article was supposed to be about the breath. Uh…whoops! I do still want to talk about breath and Tai Chi. Next week then. I’ve been thumbing through Warriors of Stillness by Jan Diepersloot and it is quite interesting…
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November 13th, 2009 at 3:19 pm
I’m here for your latest insight on your recent adventure including, but not limited to, Tai Chi.
I used to tell therapy clients that while I may help them relieve a specific pain, doing so will inevitably reveal many other pains that need tending too.
I’m with you: I think our meditative and movement arts do the same. Stability then becomes a fine-tuned balancing act, eh?
November 14th, 2009 at 7:59 pm
We want stability … but every thing just keeps changing, swinging between yin and YANG. Upon what “basis” can we hope to maintain a stable mind?
One Buddhist formulated it this way:
“Through paying attention to the ever-changing contents of the present moment, we align our minds with what is occurring right now.”
So by this formula the “stable” mind is aligned around the vertical axis of the present moment. But I suppose we must forget the words, and actually do it.
Another interesting expression was written by the Christian mystic Meister Eckhart:
“The outward man is the swinging door; the inner man is the still hinge.”
Applies to ladies as well, I’m sure.
Certainly, traditional Japanese culture included training its people to become “more” (Zen is just one example). But it was also clear that its aim was very refined, and not aimed at the “more” (self-improvement) so popular in the West today. If you are interested in investigating this, you might see if you can get ahold of a little-known book by Karlfried Graf Durkheim, called The Japanese Cult of Tranquility. Durkheim was German, but spent many years in Japan, and I believe became a student of D.T. Suzuki, after WW2. That little book goes a long way toward explaining the “basis” of all the Japanese traditional arts.
November 14th, 2009 at 8:53 pm
You know … now that I think about it, an even better book would be Zen and Japanese Culture, by D. T. Suzuki, the aforementioned associate or teacher of Durkheim. This book is rich with info and stories, by a real Master. Also, if you buy it used, very cheap! Not as “intriguing” as Durkheim’s little book, but a terrific resource. Sorry I didn’t think of it earlier.
November 15th, 2009 at 9:59 pm
Hello Mr. Smith. Nice to see you!
I would say, yes – stability is definitely a fine-tuned balancing act.
And it seems the meditative and movement practices – like Tai Chi and zazen – put my body in such a state that I feel everything – there’s no place left to stuff an emotion. And that can be both painful and joyful as I’ve discovered…
November 15th, 2009 at 10:12 pm
Hi Walt. The one thing I keep hearing is how the only thing that can be relied upon in life is change. Damn, I hate that saying!
I guess I equate stability with balance – but being able to swing from yin to yang and back without getting caught in one or the other. But not just trying to avoid them either. That takes…a lot of work. Or awareness, rather.
I still have yet to read D.T. Suzuki or Durkheim – but I will. Thank you for the recommendations. I’m currently halfway through Dainin Katagiri’s “Each Moment is the Universe.” And I have no idea what I’ve read, ha…