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Feb. 24th, 2003 05:20 pmWell, I didn't "write more tomorrow." The end of the osesshin, and the fact that I actually have time to relax, seem to make relaxing that much easier. There's something to be said about tightly bound energies that unleash one's creative forces; under the discipline of the osesshin, my creativity certainly rose. I made it a point to write every night, and during the long afternoon kinhin, I would think of more writing ideas and could envision myself as a true creative force. The last night of osesshin, as I sat trying to concentrate, a melody came to me, and I realizedI was composing music in my head. It was incredible-- all those times I tried to compose music at the piano and nothing good came to me, and suddenly all I'm doing is sitting on a cushion for hours, and a song springs fully formed into my head. It gives me a confidence I have never had before, and I know that if I discipline myself and learn to get out of my head every so often, I can do anything creatively.
Zazen has also helped me to listen to my body more, to be able to understand what it needs. I've been eating a lot less lately than I used to, and it's not because of any desire to start a crazy diet that won't work anyway, it's because I'm learning to pay attention to my body when it tells me it doesn't want to eat anymore, learning to heed that over the voice of my cravings.
Saturday morning I got to sleep in until 6, which I scoffed at before I came to the temple, but after a week of osesshin 6 a.m. is a vacation. It wasn't really sleeping in, though, because Jazz and I stayed up until 12:30 talking. I think we both realized during osesshin that in order to do anything useful with ourselves, we have to look beyond ourselves and the whole cloying problem of I-dentity and look to our communities. If I am participating in activism only to validate myself or to show other people how progressive I am, I am missing the spirit of that activism and accomplishing nothing.
That day, Jazz, Brandon, and I went forth into the burgeoning metropolis of Okayama *snicker* in hopes of catching the newly released Lord of the Rings movie, but the listings were such that we could not see the movie before it was time to be back at the temple for dinner, so we went to Wendy's for lunch instead. My body balked at the fast food after being fed nothing but fresh vegetarian food for nearly two weeks, but things were good because the three of us ended up having a long conversation about life, sex, and eventually, philosophy.
Brandon feels that there is an incongruency between the "zen" aspect of Zen Buddhism, and the Buddhist aspect. He doesn't understand why, if there is such a focus on getting beyond doctrines and refining the self through one's own efforts, we are prostrating ourselves before a statue of the Buddha and the bodhisattvas every morning. I agree with him on this score. If, as the zazen wasan says, "All sentient being are essentially Buddhas," why are we bowing to this statue? Why do we appear to be worshipping, in essence, an aspect of ourselves?
I don't think I will ever really be able to advocate Jazz's views. She believes that human nature is inherently lacking, that if we just love each other unconditionally everything will be all right, and that it's just pride that causes people to assert their differences-- without pride, we could all be part of the same culture. I'm not sure about the lack thing, but lacking in what, and if that's an inherent part of our nature, what's the point of even searching? I certainly don't buy the unconditional love viewpoint-- first of all, it's a nice dream, but it'll never work, so why don't we focus on solutions that are practical? Secondly, love is not the binary opposite of hate. To love someone unconditionally does not prevent you from wronging them, and it certainly does not prevent you from hating them sometimes. I'm particularly disturbed by the hegemonic implications of the notion that without pride, different cultures wouldn't be necessary. What would the "normal," unprideful culture look like? To whose norms would it subscribe? Who would it exclude, and how would they be punished for being "prideful," i.e., different?
Today, while picking up branches during samu (daily cleaning/work), we got to talk to Daigi/Gi-san/Greg, who told us that he had been practicing zazen from a young age, because his father practiced zazen at a center in Rochester. He said he came here because he wanted something more monastic, and he saw a great leader in the roshi. Everyone comments on the roshi here: they all agree that he "doesn't screw around," and enjoy his nearness to their lives. Most roshis, apparently, don't eat with the monks, the way this one does; one only sees them at sanzen.
Zazen has also helped me to listen to my body more, to be able to understand what it needs. I've been eating a lot less lately than I used to, and it's not because of any desire to start a crazy diet that won't work anyway, it's because I'm learning to pay attention to my body when it tells me it doesn't want to eat anymore, learning to heed that over the voice of my cravings.
Saturday morning I got to sleep in until 6, which I scoffed at before I came to the temple, but after a week of osesshin 6 a.m. is a vacation. It wasn't really sleeping in, though, because Jazz and I stayed up until 12:30 talking. I think we both realized during osesshin that in order to do anything useful with ourselves, we have to look beyond ourselves and the whole cloying problem of I-dentity and look to our communities. If I am participating in activism only to validate myself or to show other people how progressive I am, I am missing the spirit of that activism and accomplishing nothing.
That day, Jazz, Brandon, and I went forth into the burgeoning metropolis of Okayama *snicker* in hopes of catching the newly released Lord of the Rings movie, but the listings were such that we could not see the movie before it was time to be back at the temple for dinner, so we went to Wendy's for lunch instead. My body balked at the fast food after being fed nothing but fresh vegetarian food for nearly two weeks, but things were good because the three of us ended up having a long conversation about life, sex, and eventually, philosophy.
Brandon feels that there is an incongruency between the "zen" aspect of Zen Buddhism, and the Buddhist aspect. He doesn't understand why, if there is such a focus on getting beyond doctrines and refining the self through one's own efforts, we are prostrating ourselves before a statue of the Buddha and the bodhisattvas every morning. I agree with him on this score. If, as the zazen wasan says, "All sentient being are essentially Buddhas," why are we bowing to this statue? Why do we appear to be worshipping, in essence, an aspect of ourselves?
I don't think I will ever really be able to advocate Jazz's views. She believes that human nature is inherently lacking, that if we just love each other unconditionally everything will be all right, and that it's just pride that causes people to assert their differences-- without pride, we could all be part of the same culture. I'm not sure about the lack thing, but lacking in what, and if that's an inherent part of our nature, what's the point of even searching? I certainly don't buy the unconditional love viewpoint-- first of all, it's a nice dream, but it'll never work, so why don't we focus on solutions that are practical? Secondly, love is not the binary opposite of hate. To love someone unconditionally does not prevent you from wronging them, and it certainly does not prevent you from hating them sometimes. I'm particularly disturbed by the hegemonic implications of the notion that without pride, different cultures wouldn't be necessary. What would the "normal," unprideful culture look like? To whose norms would it subscribe? Who would it exclude, and how would they be punished for being "prideful," i.e., different?
Today, while picking up branches during samu (daily cleaning/work), we got to talk to Daigi/Gi-san/Greg, who told us that he had been practicing zazen from a young age, because his father practiced zazen at a center in Rochester. He said he came here because he wanted something more monastic, and he saw a great leader in the roshi. Everyone comments on the roshi here: they all agree that he "doesn't screw around," and enjoy his nearness to their lives. Most roshis, apparently, don't eat with the monks, the way this one does; one only sees them at sanzen.
