Saturday, April 25, 2009

Zen and the Art of Mushroom Hunting

This is the Zen approach: There is nothing to do. One has just to be. Have a rest and be ordinary and be natural.
Osho

Where I live in southeastern Virginia, April is important for two major reasons. The first reason is that it is the last month of nice weather before the dreaded mayflies show up and spoil every outing with their incessant biting. What makes them especially annoying is that they always target the head and face and are impervious to bug sprays. The second reason is that April heralds the arrival of the king of all fungi, the morel mushroom.

For the uninitiated, the morel is to mushrooms what filet mignon is to meat, what sea bass is to fish and what Chunky Monkey is to ice cream. With a taste that defies explanation, these gifts from the ground cannot be cultivated. Therefore, one must search the woods in hopes of stumbling across this delicacy.

What does all of this mushroom madness have to do with Zen? Good question, Grasshopper. I will try to explain.

The essence of Zen is often summed up with the expression “Chop wood, carry water.” This points to the fact that Zen practice is about simplicity itself. When we are deeply connected to what we are doing in the present moment we experience the power of awareness. This attention to life as it is, brings with it great peace. To obtain this peace we do not need to reach for higher planes or altered states. We simply do one thing at a time without the mind inserting notions of past or future.

When one looks for morels, one has to be singularly focused on the task. Concern about being bum-rushed by a mountain lion, rabid fox or herd of deer only distracts from the task of trying to distinguish a brownish spike in the ground from all of the other brownish things lying around. Walking intentionally, with senses sharpened, is meditation of the highest form. That is if one can keep the “I found more ‘shrooms than you,” ego at bay.

When one finally stumbles upon the once buried treasure, there is a profound sense of satisfaction. This feeling arises not from the mind but from the core of one’s being: that part that has realized a harmonious oneness with all creation. Not to mention the sense of how good these bad boys are going to taste sautéed in a little butter and served piping-hot over toast.

Much like all things Zen, there are levels of advancement along the road of mushroom hunting. Early devotees, like myself, are often too anxious to produce results and therefore easily overlook the telltale sign that one is in morel territory. It is during these times that the wise master steps in and directs the student back to the present moment. “You just walked right past this one,” he will say holding up the mother of all mushrooms. And if he has the Zen sense of humor that my father-in-law, and mushroom guru, has, he will add, “If a morel grows in the forest and you are not there to pick it, what are you going to have to eat while I’m having a morel-stuffed omelet?

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Mr. Fix-It

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The Book of Common Prayer

Recently I ran headlong into what the Buddha called anicca, the impermanence of all things. This confrontation occurred during the time-honored tradition known as spring cleaning. Honey-do-list in hand, it hit me, “Didn’t I just do all of this? How can there be so much that needs painting, cleaning, and repairing?” This brought on the first of the Buddha’s four noble truths; life is dukkha, or suffering.

My personal dukkha, in this case, comes from absence of the gene that makes men good at fix-it jobs. I am to home repair what the Buddha apparently was to dieting; not only not good at it, but lacking almost any interest in it. As I sat staring into a brilliant blue sky, the sun just reaching over the trees, I realized that our attachment to forms that will eventually crumble into dust is the source of great pain and suffering. Also, I knew that my efforts to stop things from crumbling often caused me increased pain, as in the hammer hitting the thumb rather than the nail, the weed whacked stone flying into the eye, or the ripping of flesh as the knuckles move but the wrench does not. Most importantly, I knew that Nirvana was just down the river in the form of bass waiting to be caught.

Why bother cutting grass that is only going to grow back, turn brown, die and be taken over by weeds that will dominate all summer? Why clean the deck only to have moss and mold make their way back to reclaim what they believe is rightfully theirs? And for heaven’s sake, why clean leaves out of a gutter when the leaves are capable of decomposing all on their own, creating the black gold known as compost?

My plan was to use my new-found knowledge of the ancient masters to convince my better half that a day not spent on the water fishing was a day wasted. I would win her over to the notion that there is great restorative power in leisure. Here is how my argument went:

Me: You know, the Buddha says that our attachment to things that will eventually dissolve leads to needless suffering. I’m thinking the chores can wait another weekend. I hear the bass are running wild in the creek.
My better half: (Drinks her Yogi tea and does not respond.)
Me: (Somewhat more desperately) The Tao Te Ching says “Retire when work is done, this is the way of heaven.” Who are we to argue with Lao Tzu?
My better half: (Continues to sip her tea in silence).
Me: (Going for the big guns) You know, Jesus said “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.” You also know he was very fond of fishermen.
My better half: (Putting down her tea) When you can turn water into wine, you get a pass on the chores list. Practice mindfulness as you power-wash the deck.

Solemnly, I turned my attention back to the list. I marveled at how the paper contained within it all the elements of the universe. I considered the interdependent relationships that had brought about its existence. Within that piece of paper were the sun, the wind, and the rain. All of them seemed to be mocking me now through the silent scribble of ink that was mapping out my weekend. I wondered how long would it take for this paper to dissolve into the eternal cycle of life and death? And more importantly, would that get me out of chore number five which was to clean out the gutters?

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Altered States

Meditation is something in-built. You just have to create a space for it to function, just give it a chance.
Osho

My wife and I recently found ourselves in an altered state. The state was North Carolina, where we spent an extended weekend on the Outer Banks.
This got us into a deep conversation about the concept of altered states and what constitutes true consciousness. This is what therapists do when they are on vacation together.

We have both come across teachings that suggest that what we consider our normal consciousness is actually a dream state. A lively debate ensued about whether or not meditation was an avenue toward altered or true states of consciousness. Here is how I remember the conversation:

Mike: An altered state is actually a meditative state. When you meditate, you contact your true inner self or state. It’s the non-meditative state the deludes you into believing that it is real, thus the paradoxical paradigm shift between being and nonbeing. (I recall that I was quite articulate on this point.)
Kathy: I have no comeback for your wisdom. You speak the truth my dear husband. (I may not remember her response verbatim.)

I am now being told by my wife, who happened upon the last paragraph, that I misrepresented our exchange. Her version is as follows:

Kathy: I’m talking about the connection between the altered states we experience during meditation and the altered states we discover while on vacation, outside of our usual habitual patterns, while out of state. Get it? I think you should write a blog about it.
Mike: You write a blog about it (pouting). I am way too filled with foolish man-pride to admit that you had a good idea and send it out as my blog. I may as well just tie an apron around myself right now. (Returns to reading the book How to Communicate with Your Spouse Without Really Trying.)

I’m not going to quibble over whose version is correct. Here is a hint, there is no such book as How to Communicate with Your Spouse Without Really Trying. Instead, I want to move on the central point that whatever we do to step out of our egoic selves brings us into contact with our true nature. Meditation, a walk on the beach, listening to a rainstorm and anything we experience in the present moment brings us to a state of consciousness that is a deviation from the normal state of habitual thought. There is nothing mystical about altered states of consciousness because they represent our deep connection to the universe. Nothing could be more natural.

The “other-worldly” quality comes from egoic mind stepping back in to evaluate what just happened while its back was turned. With its return, the connection to the present moment is broken and we are lost again in time.

Vacation, from the Latin word vacatio literally means “freedom.” In the practical sense, it is freedom from one’s duty or profession. In the meditative sense, it is freedom from mind-dominated experience. The bad news is that you can’t buy it, pack it, or make it happen. The great news is that you have it with you at all times; it’s your home state and its motto is the same as that of North Carolina, which is “To be, rather than to seem.”

Kathy: You made that last bit up, didn’t you?
Mike: No, it really is the motto. I just googled it.”
Kathy: That’s too perfect. It’s the essence of mindfulness; seeing things as they really are, rather than how they appear to the mind. That’s how you should end the blog.
Mike: That’s just what I was going to do.
Kathy: You were not.
Mike: I was too.
Kathy: Can’t you just admit that I had a good point and leave it at that?
Mike: (Thinks for a long time) Let’s go look at our beach pictures again.