Even Bruce is Zen

She'll let you in her car
To go drivin' around,
She'll let you into the parts of herself
That'll bring you down.
She'll let you in her heart,
If you got a hammer and a vise
But into her secret garden, don't think twice.

You've gone a million miles,
How far'd you get?
To that place where you can't remember
And you can't forget. - Bruce Springsteen in "Secret Garden."

Day 313. You guessed it. I am in a Bruce Mood. Always happens when something has made me feel vulnerable. All I want to do is take my mountain bike and bust out some gnarly miles on a really technical trail. Maybe crash onto some rocks and bleed a little. Just to remind myself that I will get right back on and ride some more.

For most of this year, I have been proud (in a non-attached sort of way) of keeping my commitment to practice zazen every day and blog about it. It has felt authentic to direct sincere intent to loving kindness, mindfulness, accepting Reality, and surrendering my ego (to whatever degree that is possible on any given day!) I have enjoyed reading about Buddhism and sharing what I am learning with those who are interested. I have tried to be courageous and centered through the numerous twists and turns the Big R has hurled my way. With varying levels of success, I have attempted to refrain from highly politicized writing and spewing irrelevant personal drama. I've blogged through boredom, repetition, tedium, rage, despair, grief, and distraction.

Frankly, I am sick to death of it. Eyeball deep in disenchantment toward the whole shebang. All that emotion I have been channeling over to the Isle of Equanimity has evidently been stockpiling itself into deep bunkers on the shores of Histrionicville. Must be time to start the novel. I want to write juicy drama based on convoluted plots involving conflicted, tragic characters who make very bad mistakes and fail to learn from them. I want to write about wicked sex and politically incorrect situations and creative crimes hidden deeply in layers of subterfuge. I want to pen insensitive sarcasm directed at hyper-religiosity. I plan on creating a couple of characters who say, think, and do the most unZenlike things imaginable. In all likelihood, one will be pathologically avoidant of any display of vulnerability.

I'm going to cut lose. I'm going to express. I'm going to create. I'm going to deviate so far from the Middle Path not even a Garmin can lead me back. I won't be wise or patient or moderate. I'm going to write down my bones, exactly like Natalie Goldberg teaches. I'm going to be excessive, audacious, inappropriate, and a wee bit offensive. I'm going to write this book like I ride down and across that ridge at the Womble: never touching the brakes and hoping to hell I don't careen off the edge and smash to the bottom of the ravine. In other words, like a bad ass. It will be fun. It will be outrageous. Who knows, it may even be read.

Sometimes Zen is bad ass, and some times it is just sitting there. Most of the time, it's just sitting there. The thing is, if you can keep sitting there when all it is is just sitting there, you ARE bad ass! Because that is the hardest thing in the world to do. A zillion times harder than riding the rough spots at the Womble.

I guess it's good to remind myself of that every once in a while. I had sort of forgotten the bad ass aspect of Zen. And, despite my boldest intent to end tonight's blog without my predictable, formulatic, satisfying, "tie it all together with a ribbon" finish, I suspect it is going to happen anyway. I so wanted to build the case that a Bruce Mood stands outside the realm of Zen. Absurd. Nothing stands outside of Zen. Big Mind holds it all. That's what makes it Bad Ass.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc