Greasing the Wheels

This past weekend I attended a workshop at the Ho Sen Dojo of Antwerp called “Breakthrough with the Brush,” led by the zen sensei (teacher) of the brush and pen, Kaz. For the first two and a half days we learned the rudiments of Ancient Chinese calligraphy and some of the primary ideograms.

Without a doubt, this was one of the most intriguing three days I have experienced. As someone who is nearly 45, I believe that it is imperative to continue to try and learn new things in order to stay young at heart.

The danger of learning new things at a middle-aged stage of one's life is that one may become frustrated at feeling inadequate or perhaps even childlike. However, for me, this is the exact reason that I enjoy being in such situations. It has allowed me to see the world through new eyes, as a child, with the experience of an adult.

There is something to be said to be in the presence of a “master.” I have had the good fortune of having several “masters” in my life, with languages, with yoga, with swimming, and various other aspects of my life. In each instance, it is such a joy and honor to be part of that learning experience. To be in the presence of someone who has obtained such a level of expertise or craftsmanship is truly inspiring.

The most amazing aspect of the learning process this weekend was how Kaz would literally take us by the hand so that we could feel the Master’s hand at work. For each ideogram we did, we would go up to the table where Kaz was and then sit down with our brush in hand and he would put his hand around ours and guide us through the process after we had tried several attempts on our own. It was easily one of the most powerful learning experiences I have ever had.

In yoga and zen and other meditative and mindful processes, the breath is essential. For me, it was a deep connection to be able to move with Kaz in his breath as he would lean over behind us, taking the hand, moving the brush and the ideogram would “magically” appear. However, what was crucial in the process was to completely let go and let Kaz move your hand. It was not a collaboration, but a surrender to a “higher power” if you will. If you truly let go, and let Kaz, then the results were profound, it was as if a spirit moved through you.

As I wrote above, the title was “Breakthrough with the Brush,” and it was. I have been very stuck with writing on these blogs, as is apparent by the lacuna in the past few months. I have numerous pages of themes that I had jotted down and wanted to post on, but the actual sitting down process and writing had eluded me. I was stuck, profoundly stuck.

In one of my favorite books, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert Pirsig speaks through the semi-autobiographical protagonist about the phenomenon of being stuck. Being stuck can be with a myriad of things, from staring at a blank page or computer screen to not being able to fix the carburetor on your motorcycle. Whatever it is, being stuck is a very unpleasant feeling. It can lead to feelings of hopelessness, despair, frustration, anger, and failure.

It is within those moments of being stuck that our mettle is tested. It is within those moments of being stuck that we can either go into the problem or flee from it. However, fleeing from it is merely temporary and usually compounds the problem. It is a band-aide for a bruise, in other words, it is not worth much. Taking a break from the problem is one thing, but fleeing it is another.

I think that I have fled the problem lately instead of taking a break. As such, I needed to get to the core of the problem, to go deep within in order to get un-stuck. This past weekend at the Antwerp zen center did just that.

The process of zazen is one of the pillars of zen thought. Zazen ultimately stems from dhyana, or deep meditation from the Sanskrit. Bodhidharma was purportedly the first Indian Buddhist to go to China, bringing with him the concept of dhyana. The story goes that Bodhidharma sat in deep meditation in front of a wall for nine years. This was the origin of what has become zazen, or wall meditation. It consists of sitting in the lotus position in front of a blank wall and engaging in “unfocused” meditation in order to clear the mind.

This may sound quite odd, but it is a very profound experience if you let go and give yourself over to the process, just as we had to give ourselves over to the process of letting Kaz essentially become our hand. Both in the early-morning zazen sessions and when Kaz took my hand, I completely let go of be-ing Robert and was moved to a fascinating new level of experience.

My wheels had been stuck for some time now. It has led to frustration, anxiety, feelings of failure and just plan “blah.” However, letting go, completely and truly letting go and literally falling into the wall in the deepest stages of my zazen and feeling Kaz breathe as he guided my hand, was the grease that has un-stuck those wheels. In the former, I was able to feel my ego dissolve into the bigger picture and with the latter, to actually “feel” what it was like to be a master myself.

It has allowed me to walk out of my door now and to see a brand-new Antwerp and consequently Belgium, one that I will be writing more about now again that the wheels are unstuck. The concept of zazen meditation is that when contemplating the mountain in deep meditation, it at one point is no longer a mountain, but then afterwards, is again a mountain.

I have gone through a rather profound transitional stage in the past few months, and perhaps now, I again see the Fries With Mayonnaise which were for a while no longer Fries With Mayonnaise, but which are again, and ones that I now see with a new awareness and mindfulness.