Spewing Zen

Zen is a way of being happy. - Ts'Ao-Shan in the Zen Calendar (posted on my refrigerator for many years).

Day 212. I just had an image of myself spewing Zen. I felt like one of those lawn sprinklers designed to water large sections of grass. You set them at one edge of the yard, and they begin on one side and jerkily move forward and back, forward and back, partially overlapping each sprayed section until the entire area has been sprinkled, and then, while no water comes out, they make a sound like, "Chk chk chk chk chk chk" and the whole process repeats from its starting place. It is a thorough, repetitive, overlapping process resulting in an evenly saturated lawn. There are brief moments when nothing is coming out, and the mechanism is backtracking, returning to the place from which it began. In a nutshell, that is the process of practicing Zen.

Sit on a cushion every night for over six months, and miraculous, whacky things spew. Zen splays out all over my life. Balance is coming to me, rather than the other way around. I just had to open up a space for it to find me. Mindfulness makes right decisions no-brainers. My body generally wants to eat fruit, vegetables, nuts, seeds, and rice, Rice, RICE! Occasionally, moderate portions of ice cream and popcorn sound really good. Of course they would, I am walking the Middle Path. Everything must be rinsed down with tea. Green tea and chai tea froth through my veins like a rocky mountain stream in May. Processed food and stuff with ingredients I can't pronounce have pretty much disappeared from my shopping cart. Green and orange and red stuff finds its way in, and I'm not talking the colors of Starburst or M&M's. It seems to be simple evolution, though sometimes it feels more like a revolution.

I sleep deeply, dream wildly, and watch almost no TV. I read prolifically, sing aloud often, and am stuck on an Olivia Newton John CD called "Grace and Gratitude." I ride my bike regularly rather than compulsively, and I pedal with grace and ease and balance. As ridiculous as it sounds, I breathe differently; air appears to be finding its way into parts of my body never before frequented by deep draws of oxygen. I am often alone, seldom lonely, and time that I do spend with friends is precious and meaningful. Order is being restored throughout my little house. Though I probably can't officially be called a minimalist, there are ever increasing amounts of air, space, light and color in my home (and in my heart). I have efficient methods for getting tasks done. I drive my car less, and haven't torn a paper towel off the roll in weeks. Rubbing orange oil into my oak antiques is my idea of a perfect Friday night. Maybe monastic life isn't as far in my future as I originally anticipated . . . .

I'm going to keep spewing Zen - on my blog and in my life. It is, supremely, a way of being happy.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc