Having tried meditation before and not gained any particular aptitude or benefit from it, I was less than confident that my experience with Zazen would be any different. I viewed the stories of the clarity and interconnectedness it was supposed to bring in the same way I viewed stories of Christian religious experiences or moments of rapture: not impossible, but nothing I had ever gotten even close to experiencing. I had no specific beliefs when it came to spiritual existence beyond the material, but like a good philosopher, I didn't deny the possibility of it either. I didn't have any evidence against it existing, and the evidence for it existing did not convince me. So, like the question of the existence of God or the mind's exact connection to the brain and body, I sort of left it as another one of those questions that I may not come to know the truth of in this lifetime.
Before coming to this class, I had had very little experience with Eastern philosophy as a whole, much less specifics in Japanese. Of course, I knew the stereotypical views of the importance of honor and of the connectedness of one's action and one's philosophy. I knew about chi flow and the importance of ritual actions and fitting in with society. Anime and kung fu movies had taught me that much, at least. But it was not until taking this class that I realized how similar, yet strikingly different Japanese philosophy was compared to my Western experience, and how it all came together in Zazen meditation.
The biggest change revolved around the abandonment of what was, to me, a very basic tenant of existence: living by means and ends. I knew Kant's Categorical Imperative about not using other people as means to your own ends, and treating each person as a morally significant, thinking agent; but adopting the same stance to every aspect of my life seemed impossible. My pencils could not think or reason; the furniture in my room could be ‘happier’ or ‘sadder’ based on where it was placed. These things were only there for me to use. To take care of, true, but only so they could serve me longer before they were replaced. Animals, of course, were different, as were plants, but not objects. Yet, with this new (to me) idea of their perfect ‘oneness’ with the world, of undivided activity and existence exactly as one is meant to, my views were placed into question. While I had never really felt like I fit in with anything in the world, no object, animal, or plant I had seen had ever looked like it did not have a purpose. And more so, a purpose it had any trouble at all achieving. This idea of undivided activity and existing as I was meant to both as myself and as an infinitely interconnected being greatly appealed to me.
Yet I was still missing the point. I wanted to meditate because I thought it would make me a better person, or fix what was wrong with me. I was doing it as a means to an end, not because it was what I was meant to do. It made me concerned when I didn’t seem to be improving, and this only made it harder to stay focused in the present. Any song I had heard stuck was played over and over, and all the worries and cares of the day stirred with the stillness of reduced activity. Trying to stay still and focused for even ten minutes left me achy and sweaty, and I only grew more worried and frustrated. It was not until our first group session that I was able to change this pattern.
It was still uncomfortable, and I was still tense, perhaps more so since I was worried about disrupting everyone with a sudden sneeze or unconscious twitch. But there was something there that wasn’t when I was alone. It’s hard to say exactly, but I think it had to do with everyone sitting together all focused on the same process. We were sitting there by choice, together, all focused on the same activity. Though separate, we were joined by common purpose, shape, and ideal. I’m not sure why, but it made it easier to remain still and focused for the entirety of each 10 minute session, and I left that night a bit stunned at what I had been able to accomplish. I had only gotten the barest idea of what Zazen meditation was supposed to be, but it turned out this was the crucial point I had been missing.
After that, I sat unfailingly twice per day, right when I woke up and just before going to bed. With the memory of that first session, I continued to improve. And, imperatively, I noted the improvement but did my utmost to not feel prideful or egotistical about it. I kept the mindset that this was just what I should do, what I was supposed to do. Soon, I could sit for 15 and even 20 minutes with very few interruptions or stray thoughts. I was very aware of my surroundings and of the time and was not achieving anything close to Samadhi (true emptiness/oneness), but it was still getting easier, and I kept at it. I continued going to the group sessions and renewing that initial feeling from the first time, even as the class size began to shrink. My ritual was as close to the same as I could make it each time, with the lighting of incense, sitting in lotus or half-lotus, deep breathing and swaying, and eventual stillness soon becoming close to effortless. And in truth, I think it did help me in my everyday life. I began to notice that I was more patient in my social interactions, and more relaxed in what would have otherwise been very tense situations. I took the idea of impermanence to heart, and could even deal with the bigger things with calm and focus.
Unfortunately, this attitude did not last forever. Stress builds up over time, and this world always has another crisis or two to pile on. My mind became busy again, and fewer group sessions over the break made it harder to achieve the same level of focus. Yet here, I think, came one of the biggest breakthroughs. Whenever something like this would happen in the past, it would get me extremely frustrated, usually enough to put me off the activity for a while. This had happened a few times with learning guitar and practicing basketball, and countless times playing video games. This time, I only examined where I was, and continued to sit twice per day same as I had been. Since I was not trying to get better, I could not get worse either, and ‘losing’ some of this skill was not a world-ending occurrence. I could still do it, if not as long. Any frustration that popped up only made me smile and chuckle; what point was there to getting frustrated about something I did entirely by choice and could still do? Sitting was just one of the most versatile ways to go about it. If it ever became the case that I couldn’t do it for whatever reason, there were other ways to meditate besides sitting in lotus. But that is for the future to say. All I can do now is keep sitting and living in the present.
If anybody has questions, I really enjoy talking about this, and I'd love to answer them. I know this is kind of a cheap way to write a blog with just copy/paste, but finals have been seriously sapping my creativity lately. This is also kind of my excuse for not finishing the Galway blog, but that just means I can tell you the rest when I get back!
Two weeks left! It's gone by so fast....
