Whatever you do, not only in Buddhism but in life in general, if your life is close to human life you do not feel satisfied. There is always something you have to do. This is very natural. The same is true of Buddhist practice. So do not use Buddhism for yourself. Offer your body and mind to the Buddha-dharma. Buddha is not divine. Buddha is your daily life. - Dainin Katagiri in the Zen Calendar (October 5, 2003).
Day 281. I pedaled today. Thirteen miles, and I never left my living room. The well-socialized pagan in me really hopes Santa brings a new TrainRight DVD this year. The three I own have an awful lot of mileage on them. So does the rug in my living room . . .
During our less patriotic moments, my son and I play a game we invented to poke fun at the Homeland Security Alert System. You know - that arbitrary color scheme occasionally referenced in the media as an index of how much arbitrary fear and misdirected hatred should be generated among the American masses. I am uncertain of its intended purpose, though I'm pretty sure "orange" means weapons of mass destruction still have not been located, but could surface at any time. The game originated from a Saturday Night Live skit designed to illuminate the idiocy of the whole schema.
Our game involves alternating turns at generating synonyms for "beige," the idea being that, in actuality, day-to-day life transpires along that continuum. I always welcome the occasional magenta day (a visit from British friends) or chartreuse (purchasing a new Barbara Kingsolver novel), but let's face it: most of life occurs at the level of the ordinary (despite what Reality TV would have us believe). I am feeling this acutely since returning from the Womble. I would color Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of this week Taupe, Fawn, and Beige respectively. My forecast for Thursday is "Sand." The only color variation I expect in the near future is in regard to my mood. It is a deepening shade of blue.
It is a paradoxical conundrum to acknowledge that "progress" in my zen practice can be measured by a total and complete absence of the original glamor, excitement, and anticipation I first carried into my cushion mission. Yet still I sit. The meaning contained in Charlotte Joko Beck's book title "Nothing Special, Living Zen" resonates more strongly with each passing day. This is it. This is all. Butt on the cushion. Breath entering and leaving. Monkeys chattering and quieting. Bones aching. Mind wandering. Mudra tilting. Spine stiffening. Timer ticking off interminable minutes. Nothing Special. Living Zen.
It gets lonely sometimes. I briefly fret over disappointing my readership, but the White Knight of Non-Attachment usually races in on my next exhale, returning me to center with a reminder that there is nothing to attain. Whew. That's a relief. Because I truly do increasingly dwell in the ordinary. The "parchment to ecru" range of life.
What a curious thing. From the moment I first typed the title, my intention for tonight's blog was to express discontent with the present lack of color in my life. I was feeling bored, flat and dissatisfied. When I grounded those feeling states in the context of my deepening practice, they dissipated entirely. My beige existence isn't terrible, it just Is. That is the way things are right now.
Well, okay. I will trust Katagiri Roshi's wisdom. I will continue to offer my body and mind to the Buddha-dharma. Buddha is not divine. Buddha is my daily life. Even when it's beige. Especially when it's beige.
Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc
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