Chock Full of Empty

The capacity of the mind is broad and huge, like the vast sky. Do not sit with a mind fixed on emptiness. If you do, you will fall into a neutral kind of emptiness. Emptiness includes the sun, moon, stars, and planets, the great earth, mountains and rivers, all trees and grasses, bad men and good men, bad things and good things, heaven and hell. They are all in the midst of emptiness. - Hui-Neng in the Zen Calendar (November 4, 2007).

Day 113. Sometimes I have a planned and well-formulated blog in mind when I sit down to write. That is when I select a specific quote to fit my pre-conceived notion. The writing chooses the quote. Other times, I look to my extensive archive of Zen Calendar pages and peruse until something seizes me. Then the quote chooses the writing. Seems pretty Zen when I explain it.

I was seized by this quote tonight because it reminded me of some things occurring when I sit. If I perch on my cushion and do nothing, the Monkeys chatter incessantly for 25 minutes, and I feel as though I didn't sit like my life depended on it. I'm hesitant to continue writing at this moment; it is as though I am about to disclose something that is not proper zazen protocol. Here goes: I usually devote some conscious effort to quieting the Monkeys. For some odd reason, I feel as though after 112 days I should be able to just form a mudra, take a breath, and instantaneously drift through the gates of Nirvana. Not so much. After 112 days, I form a mudra, take a breath, and the Monkeys shout like a varsity squad at cheer camp. So far, I haven't found the pass code to the gates of Nirvana. I'm not even sure I've found the turn-off to the driveway leading to the gates.

Usually, I begin to count my breaths, or focus on my Ham's and Sah's. Concentrating on resting my consciousness in my lizard brain and beyond doesn't do much any more; the Monkeys go off on dubious knowledge about neurological functioning and such. Lately, I check to be certain that my eyes are three-quarters shut, then look inward and envision my skull empty and dark. It is an odd sensation that silences the Monkeys and triggers a feeling of suspension and surrender. One step closer to the gates, perhaps. So, basically, I have been sitting with a mind fixed on emptiness, and lo! and behold! tonight I stumble across a quote advising that I should not do that or I will fall into a neutral kind of emptiness. I thought a neutral kind of emptiness was precisely what I'm (not) shooting for. Grasping Zen is like sopping up the ocean with a cotton ball.

This quote jolted me with an important reminder: Zen emptiness is vast and broad and chock full of everything. Emptiness has probably been evasive because I was inadvertently aiming for EMPTY emptiness rather than the FULL emptiness of Zen. If attempting to grapple with such a bizarre notion isn't evidence of sitting for 112 days in a row, I don't know what is! As impossible as it sounds, I think I am figuring something out as I write. At some level I was interpreting all of the interruptions to being empty as some sort of failure or impediment to my pursuit of enlightenment. Obviously, I had expectations and ideas about the version of emptiness that is "right." Of course, there is no "right" version of Zen emptiness. It is the emptiness that holds ALL.

Hmmmm. I'm always relieved when I write something about my practice that sounds like word salad uttered by Johnny Depp in the script from Alice in Wonderland. Makes me know I'm on the right track. I'm headed to my cushion to not try to not attain Full Emptiness. If that ain't some Zen, I don't know what is!

Gassho,
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