The Looking

If we knew that tonight we were going to go blind, we would take a longing, last real look at every blade of grass, every cloud formation, every speck of dust, every rainbow, raindrop - everything. - Pema Chodron in the Zen Calendar (November 17, 2006).

Day 146. I don't want to take a real look at anything. It fills me with longing.

There are many times I sit down at this white screen and want to cut and paste the blog from many weeks ago in which I indulge my inner petulant child. It's quite embarrassing to even imagine how often an obstinate, negative, rebellious mood envelopes me. On the one hand I can understand and summon some empathy towards myself - after all, I lend ego strength for a living. On the other hand, I wish I were more evolved. Right smack in the middle is the truth: although our thoughts and feelings affect us mightily, they are NOT who we are. For some reason that quote from my yoga workshop has stayed with me. It's very Zen.

Today I found myself sharing a concept explained by my analyst many years ago. He called it "The Looking." He said there are times in therapy when we have to tolerate a careful, honest examination of important themes and events in our lives. This "looking" sometimes occurs over a prolonged period of time and can evoke powerful emotions. The feelings can become so strong that a sense of urgency and immediacy to take action arises. Impulsive, reflexive behavior and decisions usually don't serve us as well as those in which we take time to process and contemplate. Regret often comes on the heels of actions emanating from the need to quickly alleviate painful psychological states. Good therapy creates a safe relationship in which painful feelings can be experienced and tolerated for the duration required to clarify the actions that are ultimately best for us. As I've mentioned before, Western culture isn't known for cultivating this sort of delayed gratification and forethought.

I was certainly writing from the "Doc" facet of my screen name just then. Ouch - I just "looked" at an important theme in my life: the tendency to go cerebral when I'm hurting about something in my personal life. The consequences of daily zazen may be more momentous than I anticipated. When the fallout is positive, the endeavor seems like a very good idea. The enchantment fades, however, at the juncture where being mindful results in painful awareness of my primary relationship, my lifestyle, my future, my dreams. That's where the rubber meets the road. That's the moment of truth in sessions with clients when I can almost see the light bulb blaze about their heads: You mean I really have to CHANGE!!?

"Looking" through my sitting practice is shining a light in some dark recesses in my mind. Where haven't I gone? Who haven't I met? What haven't I known? I am pulsing with a bizarre and inexplicable obsession to travel to Tassahara (the Zen retreat in California established by Suzuki Roshi), New Zeland, and Patagonia. In that order. Soon. Talk about rash actions to alleviate painful feelings. I can't afford going to any of those places. As if that fruitless fantasy isn't consuming enough energy, there is a parallel fixation on improving my home in Norman. Inside and out. Meditation and yoga room, Japanese garden complete with pond. Siding, new garage door, spraying for vermin. What's up with that? I am supposed to be planning to sell this house soon, not priming it to be the dwelling of my desire.

I was interrupted while writing, and then discovered myself sweeping my front porch. There weren't any cups to wash. Ah. Much better. Engaging in the finite (it's a small porch), the concrete, the tangible, is always good for me. As grounding - almost - as getting my butt on my cushion.

I had much more to blog, but the interruption was a long one. A timely one. Not anything upon which I will elaborate. I did want to mention that Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat Pray Love is being made into a movie starring Julia Roberts. Has Elizabeth arrived, or what?! Her blog-to-book-to-movie came to pass. I still think Kate Hudson would be terrific playing me. I wonder if she rides mountain bikes . . .

More importantly, I should be wondering what she looks like perched on a sofa cushion holding a mudra. That's where REAL looking occurs.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc