In our room my dead wife's
comb, underfoot.
Yosa Buson
I lost the rhythm of making pictures the past few days. I will admit I just felt kind of lazy, so instead of forcing myself to work, which I fear will lead to a sudden loss of energy, I decided to let things go, moving slowly through the late winter days, meditating and reading about Zen.
I have sold many photographs during the past 7 or 8 years. It is a special feeling knowing pictures which I made, which very easily could have gone unmade, are now floating somewhere in time and space, perhaps being looked upon by an unknown pair of eyes, inspiring someone to see and act differently.
Even with all of my best photos gone, I still have a decent collection of nice prints sitting in my closet. Here is one I found today :
Morning on Green Street, Urbana
I am not sure why Zen has such a hold on me. Its philosophy, pictures, poems, all resonate with what I think life is and how it should be seen and lived.
I have never wanted to admit to myself that I have had an experience which could be considered an "enlightened" one, or, satori. Yet, now that 20 years have passed, I have decided that what I achieved in my early 20's was indeed an awakening, a way of seeing the world in a more clear, calm, and true way.
My introduction to Zen came from 2 friends I had met at the college philosophy club. As far as clubs go, it was a good fit for me, as only 4 or 5 people regularly showed up for the Tuesday evening meetings at the Newman Center. At the end of the first year the president asked if I wanted to be secretary for the following year. There was nobody else to take the job, and as my only function was to take notes, I reluctantly agreed.
This was a good decision on my part, because the following year, at the first meeting, I met my future girlfriend and wife, Rachel. Had I not been secretary I would have skipped that meeting, as it was a social event held at a local cookie shop. I believe Rachel did not attend any other meetings.
Donna, the president, attended a once a week, 1 hour meditation session at the Newman Center, led by Professor Quinney. She mentioned this to me one day, and it seemed like such a strange thing to do - sit still with no seeming purpose. I had never seen anyone sit still in my life, so it intrigued me.
I happened to be taking an environmental sociology class with Professor Quinney at the time Donna mentioned the meditation group, and one of the books we had to read was Miracle of Mindfulness, by Thic Nhat Hanh.
The book proclaimed that through sitting, one could achieve mindfulness, which is a way of turning the mind's attention onto it's own self, causing it to be grounded in the present moment. According to Hanh, this being-in-the-present could lead to peace, calm, and, perhaps, satori.
My mind at that time was in a constant state of agitation, as there were too many unknown variables about my life which made the days seem chaotic and rudderless.
I was skeptical of Hanh's book, and of meditation in general. However, I was attracted to what it could perhaps lead me to, so I decided to attend a Tuesday afternoon meditation session.
Before I went I attempted to meditate in my dorm room. I lay down on my small bed and tried to be aware of my breathing. It was difficult, and my breathing had no flow. It was harder than I expected it to be.
The first few sessions felt long and difficult because I had never sat still before. It was required to sit without moving or making a sound for 40-45 minutes. It seemed terribly long at first, but after a month I noticed my breath was becoming longer, and my body stiller.
When the school year came to an end, I was starting to believe that meditation could cure my confusion, so I decided to dedicate the summer to it.
I was working in a fire equipment supply warehouse that summer. I had to gather orders of oiled pipe fittings, ceiling sprinklers, etc. onto skids and get them ready for truck shipment. It was tough physically because some of the pipe fittings weighted 70-80 pounds each, and mentally challenging because my 3 or 4 coworkers were into heavy metal, drugs, and violence. I was definitely the black sheep.
The first few weeks of the summer I meditated in my bedroom in the evenings before going to sleep. On the weekends I would travel to Blackwell Forest Preserve, where I attempted to meditate for the first time outdoors, while walking. It seemed odd trying to remain attentive to the surroundings, while at the same time remaining aware of my breath. I was not very good at it, but I liked how it made the world seem different.
As the summer progressed, meditating slowly became a habit of mind, and by mid-summer I decided to attempt walking meditation while working in the warehouse.
One of the first things I noticed when I started meditating in the warehouse was that my facial muscles were tight. I made a conscious effort to smile more than usual, hoping this would make me feel more relaxed.
One day as I was wandering around the dark, greasy warehouse, collecting orders on my green pull cart, a customer who was picking up an order saw me and called out "hey smiley!".
My coworkers also noticed a change in me and more than once asked me what I had to be happy about.
"How come your so happy?" asked Glen, a middle aged man who had a family and was down on his luck.
I replied with a smile.
"It's because he has only a month left and then he's gone," retorted Mike, a 19 year old long hair, into heavy metal, tattoos, and drugs.
I did not contradict Mike, but I found his reply to be not only clever, but a bit depressing. I could understand someone being happy knowing that a shitty job was coming to an end, but to go around smiling about it seemed like a low thing to do, and this is what I was being accused of.
Having to work 8:30-5:00pm 5 days a week, the 2 weekend days were obviously precious to me. There was nothing that was going to stand in my way of going out into nature, from sun up to sun down, to meditate, run, and think about things.
I learned, though, that many people live and think in a similar reality. My dedication to meditation would have put me at home in a Southeast Asian monastery, but in Midwestern industrial America, it was a struggle to remain on the correct course.
The company summer picnic was held annually on a Saturday at the owner's home. The previous summer I had attended. It was the usual stuff of swimming and bar-b-q. Now I wanted nothing to do with it. I was feeling more and more like a condemned prisoner working hard labor 40 hours a week. I had little time to myself, and the only thing that kept my hopes up were the weekends. To fritter away a whole Saturday with meaningless activities.....
to be continued
I have never wanted to admit to myself that I have had an experience which could be considered an "enlightened" one, or, satori. Yet, now that 20 years have passed, I have decided that what I achieved in my early 20's was indeed an awakening, a way of seeing the world in a more clear, calm, and true way.
My introduction to Zen came from 2 friends I had met at the college philosophy club. As far as clubs go, it was a good fit for me, as only 4 or 5 people regularly showed up for the Tuesday evening meetings at the Newman Center. At the end of the first year the president asked if I wanted to be secretary for the following year. There was nobody else to take the job, and as my only function was to take notes, I reluctantly agreed.
This was a good decision on my part, because the following year, at the first meeting, I met my future girlfriend and wife, Rachel. Had I not been secretary I would have skipped that meeting, as it was a social event held at a local cookie shop. I believe Rachel did not attend any other meetings.
Donna, the president, attended a once a week, 1 hour meditation session at the Newman Center, led by Professor Quinney. She mentioned this to me one day, and it seemed like such a strange thing to do - sit still with no seeming purpose. I had never seen anyone sit still in my life, so it intrigued me.
I happened to be taking an environmental sociology class with Professor Quinney at the time Donna mentioned the meditation group, and one of the books we had to read was Miracle of Mindfulness, by Thic Nhat Hanh.
The book proclaimed that through sitting, one could achieve mindfulness, which is a way of turning the mind's attention onto it's own self, causing it to be grounded in the present moment. According to Hanh, this being-in-the-present could lead to peace, calm, and, perhaps, satori.
My mind at that time was in a constant state of agitation, as there were too many unknown variables about my life which made the days seem chaotic and rudderless.
I was skeptical of Hanh's book, and of meditation in general. However, I was attracted to what it could perhaps lead me to, so I decided to attend a Tuesday afternoon meditation session.
Before I went I attempted to meditate in my dorm room. I lay down on my small bed and tried to be aware of my breathing. It was difficult, and my breathing had no flow. It was harder than I expected it to be.
The first few sessions felt long and difficult because I had never sat still before. It was required to sit without moving or making a sound for 40-45 minutes. It seemed terribly long at first, but after a month I noticed my breath was becoming longer, and my body stiller.
When the school year came to an end, I was starting to believe that meditation could cure my confusion, so I decided to dedicate the summer to it.
I was working in a fire equipment supply warehouse that summer. I had to gather orders of oiled pipe fittings, ceiling sprinklers, etc. onto skids and get them ready for truck shipment. It was tough physically because some of the pipe fittings weighted 70-80 pounds each, and mentally challenging because my 3 or 4 coworkers were into heavy metal, drugs, and violence. I was definitely the black sheep.
The first few weeks of the summer I meditated in my bedroom in the evenings before going to sleep. On the weekends I would travel to Blackwell Forest Preserve, where I attempted to meditate for the first time outdoors, while walking. It seemed odd trying to remain attentive to the surroundings, while at the same time remaining aware of my breath. I was not very good at it, but I liked how it made the world seem different.
As the summer progressed, meditating slowly became a habit of mind, and by mid-summer I decided to attempt walking meditation while working in the warehouse.
One of the first things I noticed when I started meditating in the warehouse was that my facial muscles were tight. I made a conscious effort to smile more than usual, hoping this would make me feel more relaxed.
One day as I was wandering around the dark, greasy warehouse, collecting orders on my green pull cart, a customer who was picking up an order saw me and called out "hey smiley!".
My coworkers also noticed a change in me and more than once asked me what I had to be happy about.
"How come your so happy?" asked Glen, a middle aged man who had a family and was down on his luck.
I replied with a smile.
"It's because he has only a month left and then he's gone," retorted Mike, a 19 year old long hair, into heavy metal, tattoos, and drugs.
I did not contradict Mike, but I found his reply to be not only clever, but a bit depressing. I could understand someone being happy knowing that a shitty job was coming to an end, but to go around smiling about it seemed like a low thing to do, and this is what I was being accused of.
Having to work 8:30-5:00pm 5 days a week, the 2 weekend days were obviously precious to me. There was nothing that was going to stand in my way of going out into nature, from sun up to sun down, to meditate, run, and think about things.
I learned, though, that many people live and think in a similar reality. My dedication to meditation would have put me at home in a Southeast Asian monastery, but in Midwestern industrial America, it was a struggle to remain on the correct course.
The company summer picnic was held annually on a Saturday at the owner's home. The previous summer I had attended. It was the usual stuff of swimming and bar-b-q. Now I wanted nothing to do with it. I was feeling more and more like a condemned prisoner working hard labor 40 hours a week. I had little time to myself, and the only thing that kept my hopes up were the weekends. To fritter away a whole Saturday with meaningless activities.....
to be continued
1 comment:
You're lucky to have had these insights at so young an age. I started off with similiar intuitions when I was in my late teens/early twenties, but then got sidetracked for 6 or 7 years. I feel like I'm still trying to catch up!
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