Now and Zen
Hello Beloved Friends and Yogins,
Chapter one: Zen
Welp, the jury has reached a verdict, I’m not a Buddhist. For almost as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be a something; a Jew, a Buddhist, a disciple of a Guru, a vegan, macrobiotic, I’m sure there’s more but they escape me now.
When moved by a feeling of FOMO or isolation or some other sense of deficiency, I try wholeheartedly to be a joiner. I buy all the books, try the whole thing on like some sort of vestment, but try as I may, I just can’t ever seem to swallow the whole enchilada. In fact once a “friend” hurled this information at me like a dagger “You join a group and when you find something you don’t like, you leave” well, yea. Not a problem, in fact, in my never-ending tasting menu of world religions and practices, every card carrying member of the dogma du jour that I’ve consulted has assured me that I didn’t have to agree with or even accept every rule, idea, or tenet of their group to be a member. But being the good doo-be that I am, I have never felt good sitting in the room as the cynic in robes, so I never totally join anything. Still, periodically I try a new flavor of religion or not religion, or practice and when I do I enter with a full, willing heart hoping that finally I’ve found out who I am, with whom I “belong” and this is it, until it’s not. Alas, it doesn’t take long before, like a pair of shoes bought in haste the experience starts to pinch. My maternal grandmother would say, “Why didn’t you bring your feet with you when you bought those shoes?” but in these cases what I probably don’t bring with me is myself. I leave behind the intuitive part of myself that’s known for a long time that there wasn’t a religion on the planet at this time that could serve my infinite spirit. Left behind too is the knowledge that I have thousands of years of wisdom, intuition, and comfort in my bones and am never truly alone but feel most alone in those groups with dogmas attached. Nothing is ever a loss though, I meet some of the most wonderful, interesting people in these endeavors and I learn so much about the world and myself.
In my latest square peg in a round hole escapade, I trotted off in my car, across the desert alone, white knuckle driver that I am, to be a month long resident of a Zen Center whose name I’ll not reveal. Cheating but wanting to not be 100% ignorant, I listened to the required reading on the drive and thought to my own delight, “That’s it, this is me, I’m a Zen Buddhist” and then I got there. At first I was all in, I donned the same black garb as all the other residents, grateful to not have to pick out clothing each day, delighted in the shared meals, long Zazen sits, Oryoki, and even embraced the shared cleaning of toilets and making beds that had been slept in by who knows whom (ignoring the voice of my long deceased mother asking what the fk I was doing and why). I was giddy with belonging… for a minute, but I know you know by now how this story ends. Within 10 days I was gone. I left not because it was horrible or even because anybody did any wrong per se, but because I came to know quickly that I had little to nothing in common with the rest of the community and that my time would better be served elsewhere.
So why did I go in the first place? There are so many really valid reasons I had for leaving it all behind and jumping into the Zendo with both feet. Firstly, I’ve always wondered what it would be like, could be like if I got to spend 100% of my time and my life on spiritual endeavors. Second, I don’t much care for stuff and things so you could say that my nature is innately Zen and in that way it seemed like a good fit. Third, and maybe most importantly, I don’t mess around, I go all in, look under the hood, go into the kitchen as it were so I know the bones of an operation and can make an informed choice from day one. What I mean to say is that it’s easy to ascribe to something if you’re looking at the part that’s polished, shiny, the part the world sees, but I wanna see the proverbial man behind the curtain before the illusion outweighs the reality. Show me not what you preach but how you live and I’ll decide if I can live there. I couldn’t.
When I first drove away from a commitment unfulfilled I was shocked to find that I felt like nothing had happened. Noticeably missing were any feelings of let down, loneliness, failure, or remorse; they were replaced at that time by quite literally, nothing. As the days went by I thought how can this be? Surely something had happened out there, but still I was unmoved. So I took a few days, cleaned my little sanctuary, kissed my grand baby, did some laundry, cooked some food and settled back into my life.
Chapter two: Now
In a not unrelated incident, today I got a call with news that the husband of a dear friend died suddenly last night. The call came not from her but from her beloved son, my “surrogate son”. You see, we raised our boys in diving together and for many years we were each other’s village. That boy (now man) was as much mine as hers and vice versa and I was near the top of his list of loved ones to inform of his father’s untimely death. In recent years my friend had moved out of state and took a high job so we kind of lost touch, but when I found myself in her town on my pilgrimage, I reached out and asked if she could join me for lunch, well she dropped everything to do just that. As it happens the Zen center was a short 10 minute drive from where she works, and as it also happens, I can’t follow rules that make no sense to me, yet another reason for my repeated failure to join stuff. Fortunately, I chose not to obey the rule that forbade me from leaving campus and snuck out to have lunch with her. It was a lovely time; just two old friends sharing old stories and new with deep love over soba noodles and tofu, never knowing why fate had so seamlessly brought them together at this precipice, just two weeks before she’d come home to find her husband gone.
And now I know, at least I think I know, that one reason I drove into the desert was to share joy with a much beloved old friend who was about to have her life devastated. I know that love and connection to humans is more important than meditation, incense, robes, rules, ceremonies or anything else in the world. I remember that my intuitive heart knows better than my head ever could so I will continue to follow it in and out wherever and whenever it wants to go.
So my loves, go where your intuition leads and leave when your heart says to simply because nobody knows better than you.
Now that’s Zen.
AF Yoga
This blog post was written by Amanda Freed, founder of Primordial Power Coaching and expert in corporate culture training, yoga, meditation and event presentations. Reach out to book a session with Amanda today.
