Wisdom of Nothing…

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There he sits, content with this moment, unaware that the weatherman is calling for more rain, he just sits there.  His focus is completely centered on the buzzing object that circles his furry head.  He cares little for my missed golf outing…when you get right down to it, he doesn’t care about much that seems to bother me.  This dog lives a life to envy.

Damn dog.

While I struggle with the next sale or who needs a ride where, he just stares off into the horizon seeing eternity through eyes that I seem to miss.  He is only interrupted when the bee comes back to torment him and feels the need to follow its circuitous flight.  What are you looking at I wonder, what are you thinking about?  He could never explain it to me.  I lack the reality to live in this moment in the same fashion.

Vanishing life

I’ve lost the wonder to stare off into the possible.  Sitting still and watching the leaves dance in the wind is beyond my attention level.   I’m too busy to slow down and watch the bee fly around and around and around, or too proud.  I long to listen as the creek trickles down the rounded rocks and drift away.  My mind is too congested with needs to be alone with my thoughts these days.   He misses none of it.

Slow down and live says the wise one.

I’m so busy yet so alone.

Change…

My Summer Vacation…

I love theatre.  I have for a very long time.  I’m talking about live theatre not the movie variety.  Movie theatres are sanctuary of sleep as far as I’m concerned.  Seldom, if ever. I’m able to sit through a movie without being jolted awake from a flying elbow from one of my children. “Wake up and stop snoring…you’re embarrassing me” is often spoken in harsh tones.

My first foray into theatre was purely for utilitarian reasons.  We were told extra credit was available if we attended the production and brought back a program.  Initially, I went with the thought of grabbing the program and leaving. Instead, I found my seat and waited for the proceedings to begin.  Imagine my suprise when I found my attention going to the performers.  Imagine my shock when I started to follow the story.  Imagine my internal struggle when I started to cheer for certain characters.  What have I gotten myself into?

My first foray into acting came in the form of community theatre.  Another activity I accidently fell into.  Talk about jumping into the unknown with both feet!  After accepting the offer to participate in this venture I wondered if, in fact, I was completely nuts and worthy of being committed.  Maybe the guess work on my mental stability was an exercise in futility.

Some background for the uninitiated.  Community theatre allows everyone a chance no matter their theatrical background or lack thereof.  In our production there where some very talented and creative individuals who participated.  Instantly, I was intimidated and overwhelmed at the thought of measuring up to these local thespians.  Experience, even a very little, makes much difference in these venues. 

I’m by nature very comfortable in front of a crowd. Actually, my ego tells me to seek out opportunities that offers such a stage.  Some people would call me a ham.  Somehow I’ve managed to miss live theatre as such an opportunity.  When I first had to read my lines in front of the assembled cast…I froze up.  I couldn’t get my breath, my heart was racing, I stumbled over the reading like the first time I read from my French textbook. 

Kind looks of acceptance from the cast look back at me.  Patience and understanding comes back to me from the director.  I try again only to somehow manage a worse effort.  “Ummm,  Sorry.” No one acts impatient or angry.  All I sense is encouragement.  I try and fail again.

It’s in moments like these that character is truly tested.  As a strong, tough, macho guy I could have simply stood up and stated, “This is stupid!” and left keeping my bogus pride in check.  As a traveler of life, I felt the need to fight the urge to walk away and work through this mess that I now was knee deep into.

I am told that my character will need to dance during an emotional scene with my stage (and real life) daughter (remember that stuff about not quitting?)  I’d have preferred dancing  be assigned to a more nimble man who could perform with great ease and grace.  I struggle with the Macaranna.  Really, me dancing in public during an emotional scene will destroy any attempt to make this anything but slapstick.

Different performers came to me and spoke words of enthusiasm and motivation.  Each said I was doing a great job and picking up the part really well.  When this was relayed to me I looked around first wondering if they had confused me with another.  Somehow it stuck that I didn’t completely suck at this and this allowed me to feel the freedom to release my inner being and become one with this character I was to portray.

There is a very Zen-like experience that occurs when one lets go of self to assume the personality of another.  This is the magic of theatre.  It’s a very transformative event that likens one to total freedom.  At this moment the ability to move, speak and react like another begins to unfold.  This was a very cathartic experience to a hayseed  like me.

I hear the introduction leading to my entrance…I’m sweating like a bricklayer.  My thoughts race through my lines.  I know how hard everyone has worked and really don’t want to disappoint the cast, crew or musicians.  Damn, I can’t go back.  I walk out to the sea of smiles and instantly feel a rush of warmth and confidence that both fills me up and covers me.  I see why people are so involved in theatre…this is a wonderful encounter, a moment to cherish.

By the way, I feel like I got a handle on the dancing.  The Waltz is actually quite lovely when you understand it.  Truth be told, I find myself waltzing around the house from time to time.   Somehow I was able to summon the emotional stength to bring the warmth of my character to life.  We never really know the depth of our resolve until we are tested.  If we never put ourselves in a position of challenge our capabilities are never tapped.

I met people during this show who have impacted me greatly.  I have made many new friends.  The words of encouragement, appreciation, and motivation will never be lost on me.  I am a better person for having participated. 

By the end of the run I was tired and worn.  But never lacked for want to perform just one more time.

Next year can’t get here quick enough.

Letting Go…

I’ve been reading a wonderful book called “Taking Jesus Seriously” subtitled, “Buddhist Meditations for Christians” by John Cowan.  This book isn’t an easy read, in fact, it’s very challenging to stay with it for any length of time.  There are those books that flow from thought to thought and make for an enjoyable, pleasant  experience.  This book doesn’t fit into that mold.  This book demands confrontation with self.  It doesn’t allow simple pat answers to the same questions asked ad nausium.  As far as being challenged this book makes the reader look at himself and the reason some beliefs are held sacred.  I both love and hate this book.

Below is a passage that caught my attention.  I think it is worth sharing…

…Most of us would wave off the fact that our body limits us as an issue not worthy of note.  But it is worth note.  That is the basic pain the Buddha sees.  This extraordinary spirit that we are is stuck with corns and back aches and hang nails, and is its heavy, heavy self.  Even on it’s best days this lump of clay does not move with the speed and grace that my soul hopes of it.

This is why I cannot pay attention in the moment.  I view the moment as too dull, boring, and worthless for my attention.  This moment is a burden.  And indeed it is.  I am sitting at a stop sign.  I don’t want to be here; I want to be at my destination.  I am driving my the van.  I don’t want to drive the van; I want to be driving my motorcycle.  I am taking off my coat I don’t want to be taking off my coat.  I want to be sitting down in a restaurant.  I am reading the menu.  I want the food to be on the table.

So I do not pay attention to all those irratating moments forced on me by my entrapment in a body and therefore my entrapment in time and space.  If I can come to accept this ordinary pain then I can live into these moments.  The stop sign flashes with glory.  The van purrs with power, rain bouncing off its solid roof.  My coat’s craftsmanship and warmth provokes thanks and admiration.  The menu is a small work of art providing a universe of memories of tastes and the excitement of the unknown.

I do not want to spend the rest of my life groaning about the fact that I have a body, but nether do I want to forget that this is a weight I bear.

This is one reason Jesus has a predilection for the poor and suffering.  It is that they know they are poor and suffering.  Those who do not mourn are not paying attention.  Mourning is a doorway to the dawn of reality.

To not see pain in my life is to edit reality.  It is to be seduced by a subtle form of delusion.  If I edit reality, I shall also edit out the reign of God.  If I close my eyes, I not only ignore the monsters, I also ignore the angels.  In order to love my body I must love it in its entirety, both as pleasure producing, and pain producing.

Learning to look pain in the eye, not desiring to be otherwise puts it in its place an allows me to move forward without fear.  Why am I not open to the Spirit?  Why am I afraid to abandon myself to the will of the Father?  I am afraid that the prompting of the Spirit will bring me down a painful path.  I’m afraid that God’s will will hurt.

Somthing to think about.

Zen and the Art of Golf Ball Hawking

Everyone should be fortunate enough to find an activity that really brings you home.  Something that finds your center and provides enjoyment and tranquility.  Having an activity that can be returned to time and time again providing a much needed respite in this crazy world we hang out in.  Going home refers to finding ones inner self, their core, the place where you begin.

I crave the pursuit of finding wayward golf balls.  Maybe there is an unresolved issue with my youth that causes such a desire.  I find myself needing to gather golf balls much like the outdoorsman needs to slaughter helpless creatures.  I’m a hunter in every sense of the word.  Outfitted with a backpack, baseball cap, and my weapon of choice…pitching wedge.  I am all business in my pursuit…don’t even think about getting in my way.

Let me preface this to say I am fortunate to live on a destination golf course.  As such the people that come and play tend to be on vacation and spending money isn’t of concern.  Why this comes into play means golf balls found aren’t the X-outs or knockoff variety.  What I find are the Callaways, Nikes, and Noodles…golfers will tell you these are prized possesions.  My version of the valued impala or massive elk.

Couple of rules to remember as you seek to become a follower of the dream. 

1.  Never reach into grassy areas without first checking with club.

2.  Water works like a magnet on golf balls.  Look there first.

3.  Where there is one ball, usually  two or more can be found as well.

4.  Snakes can become possessive of golf balls, leave those alone.

5.  Don’t hunt at dusk as your activity may attract bears who are greedy and don’t like to share.

6.  Crossing the same area from different angles produces great results.

7.  If a golfer sees you hunting offer him a ball as a peace offering otherwise he’ll think you stole his ball.

8.  While finding pink, yellow, orange, and blue colored balls is much like finding easter eggs, never put these balls into same bucket as regular balls.

9.  Don’t be afraid of the dirty balls.  They clean up just like new.

10. Never, even under the threat of extreme torture, expose your secret honey holes.

There is a tranquility found in the woods alone.  A Waldonesque mystique that draws into harmony the chaos that befuddles us.  For me it is a very Zen like time where the past has no meaning and the future serves no value.  It is the complete essence of now.  The place where we find peace in our creator.  Silence is a gift so easily received yet seldom sought.  But once you hear it…once you live silence and come into presence then everything else sounds like the din of destruction we find ourselves perpetually surrounded by.  How nice to escape and find calm.  How wonderful is the quiet.

My Zen practice has benefited my golf ball hunting by bringing to mind constant awareness of my surroundings.  Most people hunt for golf balls by looking around until one is spotted.  A Zen collector finds them by noticing the changes to the present reality.  This is the true depth of awareness.  How much we miss by looking only for that white ball.  How many flowers do we trample, how many berries do we squish.  Awareness forces us to examine everything continiously without judgement or emotion.  It is with this heightened understanding, real golf ball hunting occurs.

Does this translate to life?  Can this awareness be practiced elsewhere?  The answer is a resounding yes.  Not only can it be practiced anywhere it should be practiced anywhere.  It’s amazing what happens to our lives when we step aside from seeking answers and focus instead on seeking truth.

Happy Hunting!