Faded Into Light

To be sure, Western art has volume and richness when it is good. Yet to me it is too thickly encumbered by what is dispensable. It's as if the Western artist were trying to hide something, not reveal it.
Yasuda-Tenzan-Roshi


Looking through a box of prints, I found this :

Oakland Avenue, Urbana

~ ~ ~

Driving out to Blackwell on the weekends gave me a needed respite from the warehouse, and the time and inspiration needed to explore my ideas about life.

I was reading a few books about Zen that summer. Zen and the Art of Archery, Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha, and Lucien Stryk's Encounter With Zen.

I was aware of Stryk's book because I took a poetry writing class the previous semester, and he was my teacher. At the time, I did not realize how lucky I was to come into contact with him. Not only was he a published poet and translator, but he was a practicing Zenist. I learned not by speaking with him directly, but, rather, watching how he moved, spoke to the class, and from listening to one of his poetry readings.

I would bring the books with me to Blackwell, and sit at a picnic table overlooking the lake, in solitude, surrounded by large poplar trees, reading the strange ideas and expositions on Zen.

One warm summer day, as the sun was setting, I sat on the side of the large hill, lounging in the grass, finishing off Siddhartha. I was concentrating not only upon the words in the book, but also upon my breathing. I felt relaxed, centered, a meaningful part of the landscape. When I came to the part in the book where the girl dies from a snake bite, I was inspired to look into the sky. As I did so, a gust of wind moved through the small poplars which were thriving on the side of the hill, creating a harmonious sway of trees and twirling of leaves, the sound of which ripped through my senses. A few birds zipped through the branches at impossible angles. I noticed I was caught in a web of tree shadow.

I felt pure, like an animal. My thoughts were being carried away with the dimming dusk light, and what was left behind was tree, bird, shadow, and me. The trees were speaking, and I understood them! I looked out toward the lake, which was covered in a heavy blue and orange. If this was where Zen was leading me, I was surely going to follow.

That day was the beginning of a life shift, brought about through meditation. Afterward, concentration upon my breath became easier, more natural.

I started to wonder, does everyone already live like this? Did I somehow miss the kindergarten hour when the importance of breathing was discussed? Why had it taken me so long to break through? Why had my mother never told me, "Jimmy, follow your breath!"

I felt incredibly stupid, yet relieved. It had taken me 22 years to feel secure in the universe, but at least I had finally arrived.

Soon after, back at Blackwell, I was doing a walking meditation next to the lake. I stopped at a large stone and sat upon it, my feet dangling close to the water. I took off my shoes and began to meditate more intensely. The water of the lake that afternoon was still, and my mind soon reflected that stillness.

I was now able to achieve a meditative state of high intensity through sitting motionless for 20-30 minutes. Whereas in the past I was never able to reach such a level, I could now will it upon myself simply by sitting and following my breath. My thoughts miraculously became silent, and my insides resembled the infinity of black space which goes out beyond earth.

As I sat on the stone, my eyes suddenly were pulled to the center of the lake. A ripple was crossing the entire blanket of water. It seemed odd, the surface was smooth as glass a few moments ago. No breeze stirred. I slowly looked downward, and saw 3 of my toes gently skimming the surface of the lake. I watched as small ripples moved out, further and further toward center. I slowly lifted my toes from the water, and watched the lake once again become still.

Living in a western suburb of Chicago for the summer with my parents, I felt cut off not only from my college friends, but also the inspiration which a small college town possesses. The suburbs were a floundering mess of cars, shopping malls, and a dwindling supply of fields and trees. About 5 miles from my home was the McDonald's corporate campus. It was open to the public, so during the week, not having the time to drive to Blackwell, I would visit the campus and wander around the small woods and fields.

A river flowed through the campus, and I got into the habit of bringing my guitar with me on my walks. When I arrived at the river I would sit on the stone embankment and meditate for 15 or 20 minutes. Once in a calm state of mind, I would pick up the guitar and begin to play. I did not know how to play any known songs, so I would just strum and pluck the strings, things which made sense to my ears.

One day as I was making music on the riverbank, I saw a large head emerging from the river near my feet. I had never seen anything like it. I continued to play my music, breathing deeply. Once in a Zen state, I no longer felt compelled to follow things outside of myself. Everything needed was inside of me. I nodded my head to the unknown river creature, and played my music.

I noticed that the river was flowing at a steady rate, yet the head remained stationary. It was watching me, listening to my music. I took a longer look at it, smiling, and concluded that it must be a large frog of some sort. The head was 6-7 inches wide, which is enormous. It was scaly, with lumps, looking as if it had been alive for a century. I felt honored to be in its presence.

Throughout the summer I returned to the same place at the riverbank, guitar in hand. The old frog must have lived in the spot I sat at, because on numerous occasions, once I began to play, its head would emerge from the murky water, and we would sit together, in friendship.

On one of these occasions, the frog appeared as I sat in meditation. I had no desire to play the guitar that day, so we sat together in silence. I felt myself merging into the world - river, frog, trees, sky - me sitting there, sturdy, silent - I had no desires to be anywhere, no urge to get up and achieve something. On that day, for the first time, life was flowing into me, rather than me chasing after it with grasping hands. I believed the frog could sense this transformation, its intense and curious black eyes devouring my presence. I smiled.

to be continued