Burn, Buddha, Burn!

When you do something, you should burn yourself completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself. - Shunryu Suzuki in the Zen Calendar (December 12, 2006).

Day 321. Forty-five more blogs to write. It boggles the mind. It may even boggle Big Mind. Tonight's will be short. I am needed at the piano.

I believe I used this quote for a blog written long ago (well, not that long; it would have to be less than a year ago). I have noticed that a few quotes are repeated in the Zen Calendars over the years, and figured if the Zen Calendar editors can repeat themselves, so can I. Besides, it's a really good quote. I searched for it specifically because I tried to sit last night like my head was on fire.

In Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, Suzuki Roshi writes about keeping practice "pure." I read sections of the book periodically because, presently, I am not sitting regularly with a teacher or a sangha and feel it is important to stay mindful of pure practice. Last night on the cushion, I noticed myself exerting an awful lot of effort in my attempt not to exert effort. This is a perfect example of impure practice. I relaxed, returned my focus to breathing, and the gentle reminder of "no attainment" drifted across the horizon of my consciousness. "Oh, yeah, " I thought quietly, "This is IT. Not what comes next, or what I am shooting for, or how it should be. Just This. Already. I am here. I am now. I need not strive for anything more." For the rest of the session, it did not require effort to avoid exerting effort. I breathed in and out. When my mind tried to sing with the Monkey Chorus, I gently brought it back to my breath. In the absence of effort, my practice blazed and burned like a homecoming bonfire. When the timer sounded: no trace of myself remained. Splendid! Pure practice!

I was on fire the whole day at work, continuing to burn myself completely. I wasn't aware of trying to be Wonder Therapist; I was just fully present, in the moment, focused on the person in my office and our therapeutic work. We just flowed. Extraneous effort was not required. If this was 1967, I would say I was totally in the groove (thankfully, it ISN'T 1967!) There is a mystical art to occupying the type of space where I "allow" something wonderful and right to occur, rather than investing excessive energy as I try to "make it happen." It is about subtlety and nuance. "Right effort" is a delicate gap between not caring or paying too little attention and caring too much or exerting excessively. It is calm focus. Attentive relinquishing. Contemplative surrender.

After work, the fire burned on. I got on my trainer for a workout to a challenging DVD. I had prepared myself to back off if the effort proved to be too much, too soon after my surgery. The workout went exceedingly well. I was still in the groove (I know, it is still not 1967). I rode really hard during the anaerobic intervals, and purposefully surrendered during the rest intervals. I kept a calm focus, discovering that I can push my body much harder when my mind stays quiet rather than revving up as the physical demand increases.

It is an intricate and fragile state, this balance of mindfulness and energy expenditure. The trick is to avoid the erroneous conclusion that more mindfulness necessarily requires, or is evidenced by, more energy expenditure. Not so. I am reminded of learning to swim with the correct technique. Nuance and finesse contributed to swimming faster far more effectively than wildly churning out more physical effort. RIGHT effort, rather than MORE effort seems to be the key. Yet again, I seem to be challenging the cultural panacea that "more is better." Not always. Just enough exertion, carefully and correctly applied, seems to be what is best. Ask any golfer!

I can't wait to get to my cushion. I plan to light myself on fire. And burn until no trace of me remains.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc