"Have good trust in yourself- not the one you think you should be, but the one that you are."
-Taizan Maezumi Roshi
I've been paying a lot of attention to an intuitive calling which I feel was pointing me toward work in education. Sharing, offering instruction and coaching create tons of enjoyment in my life. There's never a feeling of superiority that arises; but rather, love is the driving force. I love you as I love myself. This stems from how I feel about the lack of self in opposition to the other. You ARE me, and I am you.
That said, recently I wasn't treating us too kindly. When I didn't get the teaching job I applied for with the local school district, I could feel the sadness take hold. I saw it coming from a mile away. I know this because I've seen it before. It's been a while, but I know where it can take me... and still I let it take over.
The couch was all too willing to hold me while self-pity washed over my mind like an over sized security blanket. Exercise was non-existent. Youtube videos, mindless programs on Netflix and many naps filled my days. Where had the real me gone? Or was this current state my true nature? Were all the joys I'd found in the prior months' experiences just some simple pieces of short-lived pleasure? Was I merely indulging in slices of the chocolate cake of life?
When I truly felt like I couldn't take it anymore- no thoughts of suicide or anything drastic- a friend urged me to look outside myself. She reminded me of my recent claims where I shared the joys of helping others. So why was I laying on the couch? Who was this helping?
"You are what you think about all day." -Allen Ginsberg
So this past weekend I spent two nights sleeping in my car in the San Bernardino National Forest. It was a wonderful respite from the 100+ degrees I've been experiencing in the low desert of Southeastern California. The Yokoji Zen Mountain Center (zmc.org) has been requesting the assistance of volunteers from the Zen community. Their beautiful mountain side retreat and training center had been badly damaged by the mudslides which followed the Mountain Fire last month. I chose to drive up there with shovel in hand to help out. And that was the last moment I spent dwelling on poor little ol' me.
Saturday morning we shoveled for hours and removed several feet of stubborn mud from the entrance to the zendo. The photo above is of a car locked and abandoned at the base of the Zen Mountain Center. The owner was later located and he returned to remove some valuables. I could only wonder what the Car Fax Report would say about this vehicle if re-sale was ever attempted!
For the rest of the day we lifted, rolled and carried large rocks which were placed in strategic flood-blocking positions. Sandbags were filled by the dozen while we volunteers joked about things like county music lyrics to pass the time and distract us from mother nature's devastation. "But all my exes live in Texas," a few of us sang merrily with a silly southern draw, "and that's why I hang my hat in Tennessee." By day's end my back, wrists and hands were at their breaking points. I noticed briefly my depressing thoughts of self-pity and sadness were now mostly non-existent.
"Just don't do something, sit there!" -Unknown
I thoroughly enjoyed a much needed hour of Zazen practice with a large group on Sunday at Yokoji. And again this morning (Monday, 9/16) I sat (meditated) for a solid half hour. Lying down on the floor, I remained staring at the ceiling for another twenty minutes or so. I felt an awesome sense of serenity and calm abiding wash over my being. I'm pretty sure that meditation practice is not about finding some elusive state of eternal happiness. It is the ability which comes over time to see what is really happening in this moment AS IT IS. I pondered this and then I thought about what another friend said to me recently: "you are not the circumstances of life."
So how do I learn from all this? How can I avoid the panic and the fear in the future? I'm not sure of any cures, but I will remember the events of this past weekend. This was a time when I got out of self, left isolation for a moment or two and listened to the advice of loved ones.
Humbly yours,
Carl
