Llamas and Emus

I'm not quite sure what I want to write about. I have started this entry a few times. Ultimately, the problem was that I was looking for something to write about. Something important. Something impactful. Something significant. That ended up being the problem.

When I first started practicing, I had a chance to go on a sesshin at Zen Mountain Monastery. It was fresh and new and I loved it. I had no jobs other than to be there and sit. I had been practicing Zazen for a little over a year, and I really dug into the practice of that sesshin. Late in the retreat, something happened. In the midst of a late afternoon period of Zazen, my awareness of my own body disappeared. I floated, formless in the zendo and there was a sense that the barriers between things were dissolving. After some time, something in my awareness sounded off: "Oh MY GOD THIS IS WEIRD!!!!" and just like that, it was over.

Later on I came to learn from Rinsen and Do'on that this is called makyo. These are experiences that can arise in zazen when the ego is desperately reaching around to find sensation to reinforce its existence. It is not something to be chased and it is not something to run from. Like anything that arises, we see it, acknowledge it and return to our practice.

Unfortunately for me, I spent a number of years chasing the memory of that experience. I wasn't trying to will it into recurring, but on some level I was judging my own zazen against this experience that I had run into. I put some level of value on the experience.

We have heard our teachers talk many times about that mind that is looking for something "else". We look for the thing that is other than this daily life. This life in this moment, with tinnitus ringing, laundry to be folded, kids looking for jobs, emails to be read and too many plans to keep straight.

We hear it over and over. It is just this. Practice the dharma that is right in front of you.

Every gate of practice is a potential snare. We encounter many gates and many hooks. We find them in conversations, tasks to manage, bells to ring, lists to complete, robes to sew and litter boxes to empty.

Some of the smells and bells that entice us to practice are quite useful. My own affinity for the incense, robes and bells helped to anchor me early in my practice. I know for others these things are barriers.

I hope that all of us come to realize that our own life is our practice. I hope that we see past the trappings, the smells and the bells. I hope they remain beautiful, but become ordinary, or at least familiar.