The English Riots

Tonight could be another night of violence across England, as a portion of my fellow countrymen and women decide whether or not to feed the growing tide of rioting, arson and looting. There are many ways of painting what's going on: an oppressed and unheard underclass acting out their anger? Materialism gone rampant? A statement against Capitalism? A profession of love for Capitalism?
If I am disgusted at the level of consumerism evident in these acts, then I'd best be sure to check out my own desires: am I really desireless? If I am surprised by the levels of thoughtlessness shown, then I ought to recognise my own capacity for such thoughtlessness.
If we as a country are surprised that people will commit violence and engage in looting, perhaps we had better check the culture that we surround ourselves with, the endless adverts, films and games which promote the acquisition of goods, and which promote violence as a justifiable tool.
None of this is the same as saying that these acts are blameless. To say that someone is purely at the mercy of their environment is to patronise them, and rob them of their human quality. But at the same time as seeking "justice", we have to ask: what have we done to minimise hatred, materialism, and violence?
Be cool Englanders, be cool...

Shambhala: 35 under 35

Howdy Zen fans! I haven't been writing much here for a few days, for which I apologise. But I have been moonlighting on the side, writing pieces which I hope will included in a new project run by Shambhala Publications called "35 under 35". Here's a link to it:

http://www.35u35.com/

Writing "Winter skincare do's and don'ts" doesn't come easy"

So I have been creaming off the best bits for later consumption, which is mean I know, but an amateur writer has to take his breaks where he finds them...


More posts soon, I promise.

Ta, Nick.

Hey,where'd the darned expediency go?

"In my view, American Soto Zen is almost choking to death on the efficaciousless idea of "Just this.""

This from Mike Dosho Port's site "Wild Fox Zen." You know, I agree, though I would extend the sentiment to include our tiny Zen circles here in old Blighty (that's Britain in case you don't know.) I know that Zen has come along a bit since the early years in China, and that it's not all hitting each other on the head or yelling like nutcases at one another in the hope of enlightenment. But what you get a sense of in reading the koans and tales which make up Zen folklore is the sheer range of teaching methods available to those cunning old masters. Whether verbally or physically, using inanimate objects or object-lessons from Nature, it seemed that the really good teachers were those who were ready to knock down beliefs and challenge concepts wherever  they reared their tricksy heads.
Since enlightenment is now a dirty word, however, this kind of thing is writen off. This equates to a loss of biodiversity in the Zenosphere. "Enlightenment" was only ever ateching tool, one perfect for underlining spiritual pride and ideas of attainment.There are few teachers willing to deal with students expectations of enlightenment it seems. But aren't these heartfelt curiosities the perfect opportunity for a teaching to strike home? It takes real courage to put oneself forward in a mondo, and ask a question. If the answer is simply a verbal lecture, I wonder about the point of it...
Having said this, I know that teaching in the old school way would probably scare most people off; it would probably scare me off. But I wonder if the only answer is to prescribe zazen or samu no matter what the temperament or concern of the student? I'm not a teacher, so all this should be taken with a vat of salt. But think about Gutei: remarkable it seems, because his only answer was to hold up the finger in answer. But even he had to break a pattern in order to teach, and suddenly fingers were flying about like chopped grass.
"Present moment" "Just this" and yes, even zazen: all these have the potential to become staid and ineffective. So then what?

As I say, I'm not a teacher, and neither do I even have a formal teacher, so I am spectactularly ill-qualified to talk about any of this. But that doesn't usually stop me.
If zazen becomes our only method, expecially in Soto Zen, are we not in danger of fixing on it, getting stuck in it amd imagining it to be something special? Your thoughts, readers, would be appreciated.

Spin Cycle of Nirvana

"It'll even do your cat..."

Of course, being me, I only really appreciate something when I can't have it. So this week finds me rather incapacitated after a minor operation, and somewhat unable to sit. I can hobble, I can perch, but I can't do regular-style zazen. What happens then? Can I get past pride, and attachment to form, and do zazen in a chair? I haven't yet. Being at home, and not having the distraction of work, my mind  becomes very busy trying to find things to get on with. New schemes, career ideas, things I should write: oh man, it goes around and around, a washing machine on a very familiar spin-cycle. I find also that I am an entertainment beast. I rent DVDs, I watch things on the Internet, I leaf through books casually, I write, I make hot drinks...I do everything but sit here and appreciate existence. Because that would be boring. I hunt crazily on the Internet for books to buy about Zen! Hah! Now and then, even I am sensible enough to realise, and I hope I don't come across too damned hippy here, but that everything really is right here. In my smallish lounge, with the tree outside the window, the books on the shelves, the houseplants waving gently, the gentle ache in my butt... Yeah yeah, books and entertainments and schemes are fine, they're not bad. But coming back to here? Back to now? It's all there is. And what a relief.

Phone Call Zen

Today I made a phone call that I'd been putting off for a while: since last November in fact. I had built up a complicated lump of mental machinery around and about it. It had become representative of a whole side of my life, a symbol of whether or not I am able, when needed, to take the plunge into the unknown. I must have played the conversation a hundred times in my head. I had thought about what it would be like after I had made the call, how I would feel, what the next step might be like. Part of me knew I would make the call, the other half knew that I wouldn't. It really wasn't a momentous call; but I had made it that. Suddenly, today after my usual mental hamster-wheel had spun a while, the knot of stuff kind of dropped lower. I almost made a decision to let my gut do the leading. Before I knew it, I was on the phone. I got through to a different person to that whom I expected. She put me through to an answer phone where I left a shaky-sounding message. But I had done it.

I don't like to say that "zen does this" and "zen does that." Zen doesn't do anything. But that superhero power of "not do anything" sometimes comes in damned handy, especially for a Zen worrier like me. I'm far too much stuck in my ridiculous noggin, and things never turn out how they look from in there, in my experience. But it's so easy to get bogged down in mind-mud. I don't despise the worrying or the fretting. They are part of life, they represent the impetus, the itch to grow and to seek change. But it's nice to let the dust settle sometimes.

Go on, make that call, whatever it is.

Resistance is futile

I came to a realisation a couple of months ago: not an all-conquering "I am one with the universe" epiphany, but just a common garden variety sort, and it was this: zen makes things easier.
Okay, okay, I hear what you 're crying out: I know, you have to sit a lot. Yes, that can be painful. There are weird cultural Japanese things that take some getting used to, and yes, one's own faults and peccadilloes come into uncomfortably sharp relief. Believe me, I've wrestled with the difficulties of zen, in fact I think that most of my practise thus far has been in resistance to it. And there's lots to resist in zen: uniforms, hierarchy, ritual, right-wing craziness by the Japanese and so on and so forth. Sometimes I've thought I would ditch zen in favour of Vipassana or something else that's a bit groovier , a bit more..modern, a bit more accomodating. But then, I've also realised that there's a bit of me that loves the arcane crustiness of some aspects of zen. I like that it's not too easy. I like that it's not too shiny or overwhelmingly positive in that Californian way. Because I sometimes feel a bit grey myself, a bit grim, and zen is cool with that. And you know what? I love putting on my best throaty pseudo-Japanese impression and rocking the Hannya Shingyo. It's fun. Participating in these cultural strangenesses can be thought of as our offering to the long line of zen practitioners.Some gave an arm or a finger: we can offer our bewilderment.
My resistance then, is lessening. If I remember my own good advice, that zen makes things easier, then I'll get on the cushion regularly and not flounder about trying to run from suffering. And that'll be better for everyone.

Knotty Problems

Hakuin feared the embraces of Hell. Bankei was mortally afraid of death. Dogen wondered if we are all perfect, as Buddha said, why bother with Buddhism? The great Zen masters often had some gnawing doubt early on in life which propelled them to the doorstep of the Zen temple, and ultimately to self-enquiry of the keenest sort. It was often the case that other types of Buddhists, Shinto-sorts and Confucians sent people who were particularly troubled down the road to the nearest Zen master (they probably didn't want to deal with the really mad ones), so I guess Zen is something you don't enter into lightly.

William James, the founding father of American psychological thought, divided people into two groups “once-born” and “twice –born”. The former group were the hardheaded, hale and hearty sorts who didn’t see what all the fuss was about, and why people couldn't just buck the hell up and stop being so damned wet (I may be paraphrasing the great Dr. James). The latter were the dramatic no-gain without pain crowd, who only felt at one with world after having undergone an arduous journey into the hinterlands of the spirit and then come back to tell everyone about it, much like people who’ve been backpacking to Goa. I used to think I was of the former group...I'm actually slightly envious of those individuals for whom existence presents no particular quibble.

But I wonder, does sitting on a cushion, apparently deeply interested in the  wall, whilst fervently praying that the bald man behind rings the bell before kneecaps explode like firecrackers in a welter of gristle and blood: does it really help with those existential-type woes? Personally, I  think about death a lot, and correspondingly just what life is all about (see former post). When I'm on top of my Zen game, I know that there really is no truth to those thoughts: they are just that, thoughts, no more relevant than those concerning lottery wins and ownership of small tropical islands. That doesn't mean to say that death isn't going to happen, and that the leadup to it will be fun and games exactly. It just means I don't have to live that now. Or going completely the other way, death is going on all the time, so my limited and partial view of it doesn't come anywhere capturing it. The universe, and my being know just fine how to cope with death: it's just the little bit of fretful,conceptual intellectual icing on top that doesn't.

I came to Zen after I felt, in one dramatic afternoon, that there was a hole in my life; nay, in my existence. My normal reaction had always been to stuff something in the gap to fill it. Zen is one of the few things one can do that lets you have gaps in your busyness. In fact, it encourages them. 

Have you got a knotty problem? Maybe Zen is for you. No knotty problem? You'd best get one sharpish.