Living the Life of the Buddha

All day long, we are living the life of the Buddha. - Maezumi Roshi in the Zen Calendar (May 24, 2004).

All beings are Buddha. All beings are the truth, just as they are. - Robert Aitken in the Zen calendar (July 13, 2006).

Day 335. Exactly one month from today, I will have come full circle. Around the calendar year and back to the day of my birth. Remarkable. Thirty more blogs to write. So much left to say, and also nothing at all. And an utter conviction that those two statements can simultaneously be absolutely true.

I am still riding a high of psychological release after writing an honest "bone blog" yesterday. The reminder that Stress is a wicked beast, though not original in the least, was miraculously freeing for me. My habit of applying a separate doctrine of Life's Rules to myself is ludicrous. Daily, I point out the legitimacy of stress as an influential component in my clients' lives. Why I operate as though I should be impervious to its impact is beyond logical explanation. Especially since I find it vastly reassuring to "be like everyone else." We are all Buddha, and all the truth, just as we are!

So I am going to coast on the idea of bone writing for a few more days. Not that I am feeling particularly passionate about anything at this precise moment. On the contrary, I am in a mood of lackadaisical mellowness that must be the antithesis of passion. The beautiful thing is that, rather than being alarmed and stressed and oppositional and judgmental about this mood state, I plan to bask in it with spirited abandon.

Here is what it looks like: Upon entering my home after work, I promptly removed my earrings, watch, and all superfluous undergarments and put on pajama pants, an old t-shirt of my son's, and dirty Christmas booties. My caloric consumption, so far, has consisted of potato chips, gluten-free Chex mix, an entire loaf of pumpkin bread (I feel compelled to mention it was a mini loaf, so perhaps I am not as mellow as I originally assessed), five Hershey's kisses, and a bottle of Gatorade. The unfinished Toblerone on the desk is looking pretty good about now.

I turned on the lights to my Christmas tree, which is still standing magnificently in the living room corner, and lit the snowman village on the piano. The snowpeople continued to grin merrily at me. Yesterday, the Monkeys chattered up a storm about the timeliness of un-decking my halls. They were relentless in their criticism of my failure to disassemble and store my decorations prior to the first day of the new year. It was exhilarating to recognize that Monkeys are nothing other than the internalization of ridiculous and arbitrary societal opinions. Illusions, all. Today, to them (the Monkeys AND society), I exclaim, "Rubbish! My holiday decor will come down when I feel like taking it down, and not a moment before! Guilt and OCD be damned!"

I shan't answer any e-mails, and shall carefully screen incoming vibrations on my phone. I will pop corn and stretch prone on my couch covered with the uncannily soft blanket my son received for Christmas. I will feast my eyes on the Orange Bowl, shouting arbitrarily at both teams until I determine (also, arbitrarily) a preference for who wins. After the game, I will bow deeply, chant loudly, and sit zazen as if my head is on fire.

It sounds lovely. More so because I am reminded that, all day long, I am living the life of the Buddha.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc