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?