Obey My Blog

It’s my last day at Tassajara and I’m washing 30 carrots. 30 big huge carrots! The scrub brush and the water have turned orange and all I can smell is their fresh, crunchy aroma. I honestly can’t think of a better way to spend the morning.

Okay, I can think of a few others, but this definitely ranks up there.

This trip to Tassajara was not a typical vacation. Yes, it was a break from my daily routine, but there was no escaping reality or life on this trip.

In fact, I was thrown right into it.

In a community like this you have very little privacy, there are rules for when you can talk and when you can’t talk and while you have some choice in the matter, the jobs you’re assigned are chosen for you.

There are good reasons for this (cultivating mindfulness being one of them), but when I first arrived, I didn’t understand and couldn’t comprehend why anyone would willingly take up this kind of life.

Be told when I can talk? Peesh! Be told what to do? Ha!

This is the exact opposite of how I’ve constructed my life so far. I’ve worked very hard to make sure I’m not dependent on anyone. I’ve made sure I know how to survive on my own without anyone’s help. When things got tough, I wanted to know that I could make it without having to trust anyone at all.

Put me in a community where this is completely turned upside down and…voila!

Major panic attack.

But I survived it. And by depending on other people, no less.

This is how I found myself delightfully washing carrots. My friend Vicki was kind enough to switch jobs with me on our last day, because she knew how much it meant to me to be in the kitchen for at least one shift.

How awesome is that?

Tassajara itself is a small place, tucked away in a valley in the Ventana wilderness. After the flight from Austin to San Jose, our group rented two vehicles and began the long trek in – about 3 to 3 1/2 hours. Or maybe it was longer, I can’t remember. Anyway, the mountains get increasingly taller and rockier the further you drive. Many of the trees that had been scorched by the fire here about 2 years ago were, sadly, still scarred black.

The mornings here begin early and I found myself waking up at 5:15, sometimes 5:00, in order to make it early to zazen in the meditation hall. Which is huge by the way. The clack of wood and the sound of bells and bowls became my early morning soundtrack from Monday to Friday. I listened to my ipod once the entire week – once!

Luckily, I managed to sneak away for one afternoon to practice Tai Chi. I only got to practice once during my stay, but in my Tai Chi class Sunday night, I noticed I felt much more focused and relaxed. I guess a week of meditation will do that!

I had very few expectations when I first started this trip. I really didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. For some reason, it never occurred to me that a trip like this would change me or challenge me even.

Isn’t it odd that the thought wouldn’t even cross my mind?

But what a nice surprise, to find that I could do things I didn’t think possible before. Like completely trust the people I was with, work in a kitchen, slow down enough to appreciate and notice even the tiniest gestures of kindness (of which there were many), tolerate nature (mosquitos, anyone?), share a bathroom with five women (!) and survive with only the light of the sun and a kerosene lantern.

It kind of makes me wonder, what else can I do that I didn’t think possible before?

I took a break from practicing Tai Chi.

And then I took a break from writing.

Scandalous!

My Tai Chi class has started up again though and I’m (almost) back in my regular routine. After Master Chen’s workshop several weeks ago, I realized I was a wee bit worn out. I needed to stop and catch my breath. Plus, my body was all like, okay dood. Dooooooood. We like, really need a break in here, do you mind?

And so I decided to take a break.

Now that I’m back though, I have a calmer, more focused approach to my Tai Chi (sort of). I’m not anywhere near mastering the forms of course, but I take correction better than I did before. I don’t get as discouraged as I did before. And I don’t worry as much either.

Master Chen’s workshop pushed me to my absolute limits and challenged me much more than I realized. It was really tough, but it also put things in perspective. I’ve put so much energy into worrying and stressing over how I’m doing the forms, how awkward I feel – how awkward I must look. When really that doesn’t matter.

YES. You are going to look awkward. You are going to FEEL awkward. That’s just a given.

But who cares?

I also seem to have a lot more fun in class (I know – how could Tai Chi be any more fun than it already is??). Granted, my legs feel like they’re on fire and sweat drips down my forehead in class (ewwwww), but I love it.

I’m also relieved.

Less fear – fear of failure, fear of pain, fear of looking stupid or whatever fear you are faced with – is always a relief.

In this same spirit, I am planning, packing and prepping for a week long trip to the boondocks of California.

Next week I’ll be traveling over the mountains and through the Austin and San Jose airports and up a very long and steep dirt road to the Tassajara Zen Monastery where I’ll be staying with my Zen teacher and several other friends and members of the Austin Zen Center.

I’ll be meditatin’ y’all!

At 5:30 in the morning. Every morning.

Um…

But I’ll also be doing some other zen-like activities like slaving away in the kitchen (I hope, maybe?) and/or doing other Tassajara-y things like attending talks and taking hikes and of course just enjoying the change of pace (not a small thing for me I must tell you).

I’m starting to think that taking a break is a good thing sometimes…

South By Southwest is here! Woohoo!

What does this have to do with Tai Chi?

Nothing!

Other than the fact that, since I am not attending on the company’s dollar this year, I can attend any panel I choose. And in order to create a better blog for you, my dear readers, I choose to attend A LOT of panels. On blogging! Yay!

On that note, if you have any feedback regarding this blog, please feel free to send me a message via my Contact Form. I welcome constructive criticism, as well as, nice thoughts.

Just try not to be mean, if you can. An irate man tailgated me halfway home from a morning sit at the Zen Center a few Saturdays ago. I laughed. Likewise, if you are mean, I may very well laugh at you, too.

So I’ll be getting my geek on starting this weekend, but NEXT weekend I am attending a workshop with Grand Master Chen Qing Zhou.

This guy is going to kick. my. ass. And I’m very much looking forward to it.

Chen Qing Zhou apparently began teaching within a year of learning Lao Jia Li Yu – the Old Form. The form that I am learning right now.

I have just learned the 34th form, Double Jump Kick (Ti Er Qi).

How am I EVER going to make it to the 75th? I think I’m going to have to wake up a lot earlier in the mornings…

I think back to when I first started learning Tai Chi and I shake my head. There is NO WAY I would have been able to teach back then! I don’t think I could teach now! Well, okay, I could probably, maybe teach some Silk Reeling, but there is so much more that I don’t know…

Over lunch this past weekend, I described to a friend of mine how I started off doing Tai Chi to help me deal with stress. Then I mentioned how I went to an (awesome) acupuncturist for a year, also because of stress. And then of course, I got into Zen. Also, in a way, to help me deal with stress (and for other reasons too, but it has definitely helped me deal with stress, that’s for sure).

Hmmm…so apparently – and this may have been obvious to everyone but me – I’ve been one stressed out chica!

(to my former roommates back in Virginia…I’m so, so sorry…)

And now for a riveting video from the Grand Master himself. Who makes these videos? I need to have a talk with them about music selection…

I attended an informal talk a few months ago, where it was suggested that I encourage others to meditate. I raised my hand and immediately expressed my concern and unease with this.

I don’t talk about Zen stuff very often. Well, okay, in this blog I do, but that’s different. Much of the time though, in my daily life, I try to completely avoid talking about Zen Buddhism or Zen meditation altogether.

There are several reasons for this.

1. A lot of people think meditation is weird. I’m not really interested in trying to convince people otherwise. Even though it’s probably the simplest thing a person can do. In Soto Zen, it involves sitting and staring at a wall. But this still seems to weird some people out.

2. I get the impression that a lot of people already think I’m kind of weird.

3. Before last year, I thought Buddhism was really, really, really boring. Really. I absolutely had no interest in it whatsoever and could not relate to it at all. Knowing this, I do my best not to waste my time – or other people’s – jabbering on about Zen stuff. The people who are genuinely interested, ask. The people who aren’t, just get defensive anyway.

4. I am not a Buddhist. I’m not sure I want to be a Buddhist. And yet it’s the closest I’ve come to feeling like I’m “home” in a very long time. I don’t know how to reconcile that, but that’s okay. But with this in mind, I do my best not to preach.

5. There are already enough people jabbering on about Zen and Buddhism. People much more qualified at it than me. But then there are those who like to jabber on and on and on…about nothing! I’m a writer – maybe not a great writer, but a writer nonetheless  – and I love words. But Jesus Mary Mother of God, I don’t want to sit around and argue with some jackass with something to prove about the intricacies of the Vinaya. Snore! I have a life to live. So do other people.

Zen is such a strange, strange thing. And yet it’s so boringly normal. I don’t know how to express this experience to other people. I just have to live it. Or try to.

It is also very, very personal.

In my Zen class this week, my teacher asked us all why we come to the Zen Center.

The people who responded had really wonderful and touching replies.

I was not one of them.

I couldn’t answer. I knew if I opened my mouth to speak it would be waterworks all over the place.

So I bit my lip and made a joke instead.

Because I mean, how do I even begin to answer that question?

It’s unfathomable to me. Extremely personal. Absurd. Ridiculous. Serious. And yet, not serious at all.

I can’t even imagine not going to the Zen Center now. I can’t even imagine not meditating. How’s that for an answer?

p.s. Yes, I made up the word “jabbery.”

I’m sitting. Half-lotus. Staring at the edge of my shadow in front of me on the wall. Millions of thoughts come at me and I can barely keep my bearings, let alone remember to follow my breath. I know the bell that marks the end of meditation is coming soon. I can sense it. I wait. And wait. Okay maybe not. Hmmmm… Now? Nope. Not coming. Okay…thoughts, thoughts, thoughts. Oh yeah – my breath! Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts – and ohmygod breath! Pay attention! Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts…

DING!

AH! What the @#%?!

This is a typical evening sitting for me at the Zen Center. It’s just me and a wall (quick – staring contest!). It can’t get much simpler than that. And that’s kind of how I like it.

But in the past few months I’ve been trying to attend some of the Saturday morning sittings and events.

The larger ceremonies still elude me, however.

I stayed for the Bodhisattva Ceremony once. I’d been helping set up the meditation hall a few times, but never could bring myself to stay for the actual ceremony. It’s about renewing the Precepts – the Vows. I haven’t taken the Precepts. I’m not even officially Buddhist (which, by the way, you don’t have to be to practice). I don’t take ceremonies like this lightly though. At least I try not to. I am highly intimidated by formal ceremonies. And quite frankly, formal situations like this tend to make me laugh inappropriately.

In the Czech Republic one wintry evening many years ago, my friend Dan and I decided to stop in and take a peek at one of the local cathedrals. It was dark, silent and empty but for a handful of people. We sat towards the back so as not to disturb anyone and started looking around. All of a sudden I noticed a digital device up near the front that displayed numbers in bright red, like some weird alarm clock. I asked Dan what it was.

Me: Hey, what is that?

Dan: I don’t know.

Me: Maybe you take a number…

Dan: For confessions??

Me: Maybe it’s like the Returns department at Target.

Dan: *giggle*

Me: *teehee*

Dan: *muffled laugh*

Me: *muffled laugh*

Me: People are looking at us.

Dan: I know, but it’s so funny…

Me: I know!!!

Me and Dan: Bwaahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawww!

This is sort of why I tend to shy away from highly formalized ceremonies. Other people have no problem at all with this kind of stuff. And in a sense, my behavior could probably be viewed as rather immature. But, let me tell you, I am keenly aware of my social anxieties and do my best not to inflict them on others.

I also don’t want the focus of my practice to get lost in ceremonies. To an outsider, the meditation part can look quite dull (What? You mean, I just have to sit there?). The ceremonies, on the other hand, can look exotic and shiny. Chants, incense and prostrations…oh my!

But they’re meant to pay respect and acknowledge important and sacred events. They are not the meat of practice (Although, I’m sure someone out there could argue with me.).

Oh yeah, and when you see people bowing to the Buddha? They don’t really think that the Buddha is alive in that statue, saying, yes, yes, my children bow to me.

No.

Bowing to the Buddha is bowing to you and to me and to the Buddha. And to every other being, living or dead. It is a sign of respect. Not subservience.

If it were a sign of subservience, you can bet I would have excused myself from the world of Zen Buddhism months ago.

But anyway…

All of this was to say that one of the members of the Austin Zen Center was recently ordained as a priest after 18 years of study and practice. I didn’t attend his ordination ceremony (see above) but was impressed and humbled by his commitment. Even though he barely knows me and probably doesn’t even remember the fact that he taught one of the introductory zazen sessions I attended, (and the story he told about how when his Zen teacher asked his children how they’re father was different, they both said he was less angry. WOW.) I wish him all the best.

Alrightie. This is my last attempt to write for the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge. Heck yeah!

Today’s topic: Resolution you wish you’d stuck with.

Hmmm… I don’t really want to write about 2009. I don’t want to write about 2010 either. Because today, outside, it is absolutely gorgeous. I should be out there. Absorbing the beautiful Texas sunshine. Not in here, attempting to reflect and be all deep-like.

But okay, I’m gonna do it. I’m going to write you an article you can’t refuse. Or reuse.

I kept all of the resolutions I made way back when in January. Jealous? Eh, you shouldn’t be – they were very broad resolutions anyway. I wanted to be healthier physically, so I started slowly changing my diet. I stumbled my way through Qigong, found myself delightfully and unexpectedly in a Baguazhang class and then returned to my first true love, Chen Style Tai Chi.

I wanted to be healthier mentally, so I started doing Standing Meditation along with my martial arts practice. And then found my world completely turned upside down by one little book, Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate (Damn you Brad Warner! Just kidding.).

Zen Buddhism. Holy crap.

I don’t think I’ll be making any resolutions for 2010. I was pleasantly surprised and humbled by 2009. Despite all the mistakes I made, the stupid things I said, the heartache and my sometimes awkward social moments (please don’t ever ask me about my master’s degree. I will get all kinds of awkward on you), I held steady with my desire to be a healthier person. Not the healthiest person, mind you – just healthier. Which, I think is much healthier. Heh.

Here’s to a healthy 2010.

A Brief Guide for Men on Love in the Dojo or Zendo
(or anywhere for that matter)

1. No matter how much you may want to get it on with a woman in your dojo or zendo or whatever, try to refrain from expressing this directly to the woman in question and then telling her that 7:00am is a good time for her to call you. She may do one of the following:

a. Punch you in the face.
b. Laugh at you.
c. Run away and write a blog article about it.

2. If you still wish to express your undying passion for a woman in your dojo or zendo, try talking to her like a human being. Women respond to kind words. Really. (Well, okay, usually.)

3. Should you be rejected by said woman, it is probably best not to react by sending her an angry email in retaliation and then asking her to please write you back. Just sayin’.

4. Most women are in a dojo or zendo or whatever to actually practice martial arts and/or meditation (weird, I know). They are not there to stroke your ego. Or anything else for that matter.

5. A woman has every right not to like you. Really. Remember, just because a particular woman is not attracted to you, does not mean you are not an awesome person. It doesn’t mean she’s not an awesome person. All it really means is that she’s just not that into you. That is life. Be a gentleman and understand this.

I like to give men the benefit of the doubt. I do, seriously. Because there are a lot of really awesome men out there. I am fortunate to know some of them.

I too have been rejected. Many times. I know how it feels. It really blows. Which is why nowadays, during the rare times someone actually expresses an interest in me and I don’t feel the same, I try to be as upfront and respectful as I can.

But…

I have been heckled, taunted, harassed, chased down, nearly run off the road, called names, objectified, verbally and psychologically abused by numerous men during my very short time on this Earth so far. Ummm…It’s kind of getting old.

Not that I’m some awesome catch or anything (well, I am awesome, but that’s beside the point – it’s never really about me anyway). It’s not about that. It’s about respect.

R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Respect the women in (and out of) your dojo or zendo. You don’t know what they’ve been through. Respect the men too – you don’t know what they’ve been through. By honoring both sexes, you also honor yourself. By honoring yourself and not acting like a douchebag, you make the world a much better place.

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.

A few weeks ago I moved into a new place. It was stressful! I experience a lot of anxiety when moving, despite the fact that I’ve moved a lot in my adult life. Weird. But anyway, I was feeling stressed and wanted to partake of a frosty beverage and a cigarette (my sister talked me into it – it’s all her fault!).

I couldn’t even finish it. I got halfway through and had to put it out. I used to smoke all the time when I was younger and now I can’t even finish one lousy ‘ol ciggy. I’m not sure if this is because I am getting older or healthier. Hmmmm…

But it got me thinking about my breath. I spend a lot of time focusing on my breath these days. It’s what I focus on when doing Zazen and it helps guide me as I practice Tai Chi.

Just this morning, as I grew increasingly frustrated over a move I haven’t been able to get down, I remembered my breath. The whole room suddenly got quiet and I was able to do the move flawlessly. Okay, not really, but I did it without being frustrated. Which is a plus for me! I kind of got excited and jumped up in the air a little.

How is it that we pay so little attention to such an important thing? It’s not even a thing really – it just is. You breathe. Period. Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this right now.

Then again, what’s the big deal? Is it really necessary to be aware of something that is just a natural part of life?

In Tai Chi we do breathing exercises where we stand with our palms facing our abdomens and exaggerate pushing and pulling our hands with the movement of our bellies (It’s a bit unnerving to look over and see my belly fully extended, but I don’t get any points for looks in class. So there.). This is meant to strengthen and cultivate awareness in the abdomen or dantian.

But it’s also meant to cultivate an awareness of the breath.

If you think about it, breath is pure action, without thought (wait, then maybe you shouldn’t think about it). When you breathe, you are automatically connecting the mind and body.

Sometimes, as Jan Diepersloot points out in Warriors of Stillness, students are told not to worry about the breath. They are told simply to focus on the movements and the breath will follow. But many students – myself included – find it useful to use the breath as a way to integrate the body and mind and the upper and lower torso. What one can discover later, Diepersloot explains, is that it is possible to just use “yi, awareness or intention, directly to achieve integration.”  This method, colorfully coined as, “suck and tuck,” amounts to “tucking the pelvis under, forward and up and sucking the abdomen in.”

Many beginning students are so stiff and frozen, though, that attempting to use yi, or awareness, can simply result in more tension. Thus, Diepersloot finds it more beneficial to emphasize the conscious use of the breath before introducing the more direct method.

Personally, I’m still not quite ready for such a direct approach. And honestly, I kind of enjoy focusing on my breath (is that weird?). But the more natural my breathing becomes in my practice, the more relaxed I become.  And the more relaxed I become, the easier it is for me to just be aware.

But I still have a long way to go…

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…