Sitting in Sickness

Awareness of emptiness brings forth the heart of compassion. - Gary Snyder in the Zen Calendar (December 18, 2006).

Day 273. I woke this morning, began to prepare for work, and became violently ill. Bummer. Did not improve as the day went on. Logging the first case of flu this season is not exactly how I would like to distinguish myself this fall. It is not at all conducive to blogging and sitting, much less cycling. I must admit that my preferred version of Reality does not include a 102 degree fever. Tell that to my thermometer. Reality always prevails. I am grasping that in spades.

I had grandiose plans to detail my experience on the cushion yesterday. In the interest of not slumping, inert, over my keyboard, I will write an abbreviated version. I continue to read segments of Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind almost every night. It is a great way to center upon sitting, which is, after all, the heart of this year's endeavor. Suzuki Roshi repeatedly refers to "right effort," and I have been repeatedly checking in with myself during zazen with the gentle question of, "Are you exerting right effort?" It is difficult to abide by the idea of compassionately returning my focus to the breath, time and time again, especially when refocusing seems to be required every two to seven seconds. Discouragement, judgment, frustration and impatience lurk just at the periphery, sharing space with the Monkeys.

Each time my attention wandered yesterday, I brought myself back to the moment, to my breath, with a short mantra: "This is my practice of zazen." Without consciously determining to do so, I found myself repeating the mantra several times, with each repetition having less words, e.g. "This is my practice of zazen . . . This is my practice . . . This is . . . This." It had the remarkable effect of assisting me with consistently keeping awareness on my breath. "Consistent" is a relative term; perhaps the more accurate statement would be, "My breath didn't wander every seven seconds." It felt like authentic, compassionate Right Effort.

When the timer sounded, it was one of the first times it interrupted simple, quiet breathing rather than Monkey chatter. Remarkable indeed. I vowed to re-center my practice on my practice. And to re-center my blog on my practice. It is, after all, what this whole crazy year is supposed to be about.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc