zenjones

Last Sunday, during our discussion, Ezra asked, “Why couldn’t we do practice period all the time?” There is something more compelling about a limited time event—I know this because I work in the marketing industry and whenever a client makes an offer, we add a “sense of urgency” with a note saying: “Offer good until ________.” It’s often an arbitrary date; but it increases sales every time.

And there’s also Ezra’s own story about how he had a painting of a person skating on thin ice, and he put it on the wall where he could see it every day and be reminded that we are all skating on thin ice. But after a couple months, he didn’t see it any more. It’s power had been drained away by familiarity, by familiarity.

I think having practice period all the time would do the same thing. In a way we do. The most powerful result of our practice is how we use it in every day life, being aware of our most believed thoughts, asking ourselves “What is kindness in this situation,” seeing our challenges as our path. We do need reminders, of course, and sitting with our zen group, talking to our teacher, and attending sesshins are big reminders.

Ann and I also share daily reminders that I have found very helpful. Because they change every day, they don’t lose their power. They can also be appropriate to what is coming up for us on that day.

But practice period is eating and sleeping practice. I love it at sesshin when I wake up practicing, without thiking. I’m like, “Okay, this is what good students must do!” Last night, I woke up for no particular reason, and finished reviewing my day (I’d fallen asleep mid-review).

This last month of intensified practice brought three things to my practice:

• Labeling thoughts. This was amazingly fruitful in my day-to-day life, in helping me be aware of what I bring to situations, and allowing some space for me not to react as if those believed thoughts were true. At least once a day—and usually more often than that—I have noticed a believed thought propelling me toward an unconscious reaction. It has made me more skillful.
• Gratitude. This has been an important part of my practice for years, but not until the nightly reflection did it play such a systematic part in my practice. When I’m thinking of things to add to my list of items to be grateful for, I somehow don’t have room for items to bitch about.
• The joy of Ann’s haiku. I fell in love with Zen practice first through the spare and clean aesthetic (as I saw it, anyway, on a trip to Japan). Ann’s haiku perfectly embodies the practice as I see it: the complexity within the simplicity, the truth scraped clean of all nice evasions, the message in all its raw honesty and beauty.

It was enormously helpful to have the sesshin right in the middle there, too. To be in a community where this, just this, was the most important thing. Ahh, more gratitude.