17:
Detachment. Detachment. Detachment. I’m naturally detached. It’s not just because of this Zen retreat. I think part of it has to do with not feeling like I’m a part of my environment because it’s hard for me to interact sometimes. Half the time, I’m a spectator; an observer on the sidelines. That’s not to say that I don’t participate and live my life to its fullest, or is it? Maybe I don’t but, I’m trying my best. Halfway around the world is a good start, right? Even so, detachment has come easy for me. I’m a naturally quiet person. I reflect and think before I say things, often erroring on thinking too much.
Sometimes, conflicts arise in our group. People stress out. People bicker. And that’s natural. Often times, the loudest people with the most to say are also the ones with the biggest egos.
If you take a step back and look outside of the situation–any situation–it starts to become funny. Life is silly and frivolous. It’s like how I sometimes laugh in sad parts of movies. It’s just a movie. I’m just an observer. I’m not in the situation and knowing that ceases to captivate me. Sometimes, the only thing I can do is laugh.
Don’t take things so seriously. Life isn’t serious. Learn to laugh a little, or a lot! This is how I stay youthful.
I’m rarely in the eye of the storm. I’m always on the edge; the outside looking in. Most of the time, I feel I’m going through life out-of-place. I don’t fit in. I never belong. It’s hard for me to engage in groups. I always feel different even when faced with a group of people who feel different. I have no anchor. I have no home.
This is how I naturally detach.
Before you pin me as some sad case who needs a shrink, I can tell you that I’ve learned to accept this frame of mind. I’m not sad by it, and I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been. I’ve learned to appreciate and be grateful for my natural detachment. This helps me live a life with less disappointments because I’m able to let things go. And before you pin me for someone cold or callous, I’m not that either. In my own dramas–usually pertaining to romantic relationships–I have been full of attachment, of the unhealthy kind. I’m still trying to figure that one out… I’m not immune to the emotional turbulence that relationships may foster, and it becomes hard to detach.
Too much detachment can be just as bad. We’re humans in a human world. It’s healthy to experience human things using our human senses. Detaching and transcending the senses by living a life of ascetics can be too extreme. In daily life, detachment can hurt when you disassociate too much from your problems or environment causing conflicts with your peers or coworkers. When I feel stressed, I can detach from the feeling of being stressed, but this often leads me to procrastination and not finishing projects. Being too detached has caused me to be fired from a job (too much internet surfing and dreaming of traveling and escaping the nine to five; one of the best things that’s happened to me), as well as risk living life too much on the sidelines and not being open to new relationships (I’m still a commitmentphobe as far as I know).
That middle path, striking the balance from attachment and detachment is always tricky, but it’s learning to live in these balances that I strive to achieve.
13:
Wearing a wig.
“You’re the cutest little Buddhist!” That’s what my friend says to me from back home. We haven’t really talked religion much. She’s one of those agnostics/atheist breeds that I once thought I was. And I was. Once. Now? I’m not so sure. It’s interesting though. The fact that I wear robes to the meditation shrine and chant every morning, bowing three times to the Buddha. The fact that I study Buddhism deeper than I have ever studied it despite my interest in highschool and college. The question naturally comes. “Are you a Buddhist?” Does bowing 3 times to the Buddha, chanting omitofou on my prayer beads, going to a Zen retreat make me a Buddhist? The short answer is no. Those things don’t make anyone a practitioner of a certain religion. Buddhism can coexist well with other religions so long as there are open-minded people. If you’re Christian, learning more about Buddhism doesn’t negate your Christian views as long as you’re comfortable in your own religion. Learning about other religions can help you learn more about yourself and secure your own views, regardless of what they may be. But, ah! I have dodged this enough. Am I a Buddhist?
Maybe, Maybe Not
This is a rip off of my favorite Zen koan, but it has nothing to do with the story itself. Perhaps I am a Buddhist. The question of labeling my beliefs always leaves me a bit dodgy, because I believe that my beliefs are outside the box of any religion. Bowing to the Buddha, using prayer beads to chant, meditation… All those things are form. This is where religion lies. Cultural; differing from region to region. Man-made. Described and influenced by language. Doctrines. Dogmas. Sets of rules and moral code. That’s form.
Beyond form is spirituality. Your beliefs; metaphysical, mystical, indescribable, intangible. Where language becomes inefficient. I like to consider myself “spiritual but not religious”. I don’t like religion and the shackles that come from it. I’m interested in seeing each others similarities, not differences. I’m interested in cultivating compassion. Not because it’s a Buddhist thing to do. I don’t like slapping a religion to a revolution, a calling, a greater cause, or simply, a journey. I don’t like “propagating Dharma” because the teachings, the “answers”, that’s just life. We arrive at them in our own time, and in our own ways.
If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there. – George Harrison
Maybe I’m a little bit Buddhist. My structural worldview certainly relies on Eastern thought. Buddhism and Taoism are two integrating themes that I borrow in my own philosophies. But that’s just it. Buddhism is a philosophy for me, not a religion. Take away the prayer beads, the shrines, the bowing in front of statues. Take away the religious aspects and that’s where I lie.
Form cannot make you anything your mind doesn’t believe you to be. Religious rituals become empty if your heart and mind don’t align.
Freelance Buddhist
The term “freelance Buddhist” was mentioned via another student at the Zen retreat. She said she would continue to practice Buddhist teachings in her own ways in her own life but not be bound to a particular church or faith. I like that. That’s me, too. Chinese Ch’an Buddhism (Zen in Japan) is very much ingrained in Chinese culture. On an anthropological level, the monastery retreat has been very interesting and immensely satisfying, but the Chinese culture is much too rigid for my tastes. As a westerner, Buddhism looks completely different. Still, I appreciate China’s contribution to Buddhism, as it spread from India. If not for China and the way they culturally shaped Buddhism, there would be no Zen. That’s something I learned here that was an eye-opening look into Chinese history and its cultural contexts.
If you say that there is no God, that is correct. If you say there is God, that is also correct. This is what I believe. The two are a duality that coexist, like the Buddhist circle, or the Taoist yin-yang. What we call “God” is beyond any human’s conceptual understanding. Between metaphysical realms where language can not explain, even God becomes inefficient.
Am I a Buddhist? Yes. And no. And not quite. It’s not that simple. And me? I’m far too complex.
07:
May 29th marked the two month halfway point of my stay at the Zen monastery. It’s safe to say that I’m past the disillusionment stage, you know, if I were in a relationship. But why can’t the “5 stages of committed relationships” apply to experiences, instead of people, as well? Two months and I can already sense the impending break-up.
At first, everything was new and exciting! Look at how we get to eat yummy vegetarian meals with chopsticks everyday in silence! How about this cool chanting in Chinese thing for half an hour every morning?? You mean mopping the floor is meditation!? I finally understand why cleanliness is next to Godliness! My boobs are really sweating out toxins while I’m meditating, holy shit! What the heck are they trying to tell me in class today? Wow, I have zero concentration skills, let me doodle on my notebook and write in my journal instead.
That kind of thing.
Now it’s more like, what’s the point of all this!?
What’s the point of any of this? This whole life thing. I didn’t actually think I was going to find answers like the Meaning of Life here, did I?
When evaluating and making decisions in my life, I try to answer the question: does this add value to my life? Of course, I answered “yes” when I decided to sign myself up for this but now, I’m not so sure. While I have no doubt this experience will help me in the hectic day-to-day of society, calm me while I try to stay positive, and even help me professionally, I no longer see value in the constant rinse, repeat lifestyle. A third of the people have already quit early, and I have to admit, I’m wondering about the same. In reality, I know I’ll stick it out because I’m not one for quitting when I’ve made a commitment towards something (a quick dodge in my mind makes me think otherwise, but in this situation, lets just pretend it’s a true blanket statement OK?), but my mind has grown increasingly less present now that it’s halfway through the program. That sense of wonder and bliss and true presence is starting to escape me. I’m worrying about what’s next and trying to secure my next adventure. Once again, I’m living in the future.
Anxieties build up again about my “career”. While it’s obvious I’m on a career break/sabbatical and I should learn to own it and enjoy it, I’m still worrying about how to get a job, or design my own job entrepreneur style. I start to think if this whole monastery stint was truly a way to experience something worthwhile, or just an excuse to put off the “real world”. Shudder.
The real world. As if this life now isn’t reality?
In Real Life
“This isn’t me in real life,” one girl kept pointing out during our stay. It struck me as a funny thing to say since our life, now, is in the monastery. How real can you get? I get what she was trying to say, though. In “real life” she’s louder, more flamboyant. Wearing uniforms that remind me of really crappy made in China workout pants and polos doesn’t exactly give much room for self expression. Her life back in Manila is so vastly different from our current experience that she equates a sort of Zen detachment towards it, boldly claiming it’s “not me”. It got me thinking. Who am I in real life anyway? I’m constantly adjusting myself to new situations and surroundings that I no longer have a stable life to base my “reality” on. The only real life I’ve got is here in the present. And the real world? It’s just an imaginary concept existing in our minds to keep the status-quo going. I don’t like the “real world” and I suspect I won’t enter it again.
In real life, I am discovering I thrive in situations I never thought I could, in the unknown. I’m realizing I am an adventurer that hates complacency, and in turn, status-quo. I’m learning how to accept that and live life more freely, without borders and on the edges. The hardest part of it all is learning how to take the responsibility of leading my own life, in my own hands, and trying to figure out my own path to carve. The meaning of life IS what you make out of it. It’s that simple, but infinitely and in turn, that much harder.
24:
Imagine being discontent with life working in X humdrum job in X corporation and deciding to leave your whole life behind, walking out the door with only $150 to your name, and never looking back. For two plus years, the only life you’ll know is the road, hitchhiking your way from place to place, friendly strangers who change your life, a mix of couchsurfing experiences and different cultures along the way.
With a dream to one day set foot in India, Artyom, a fellow traveler in the Buddhist monastery retreat, has done just that. His story starts from Russia, into the harsh, unforgiving cold winters of Siberia, crossing the border into China, and receiving $100 from a helpful stranger which would be the exact cost of a ticket to the Philippines. With details aside, his story can be echoed in the past with the beatnik generation, a la Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, or in the wanderlust and adventure of Alexander Supertramp (of Into the Wild postmortem fame). Many have felt the call of the road or the nomadic call for travel, and many will continue to as job security continues to fail and global technologies and location independent careers make long term travel more accessible. Whether you are a hitchhiker, couchsurfer, backpacker, flashpacker or location independent professional nomad, the seeds of dissatisfaction from the status-quo bind together as the impetus for change; a change of scenery, sights, sounds, smells and people.
Travel, in and of itself, has a very Zen-like quality. The impermanence of travel teaches us to be aware of our constantly new surroundings and live more easily in the moment, but travel on the road adds a whole new dimension. Leaving all wordly possessions behind, even selling all your furniture as I’ve done, marks an emptying of your self; a letting go of your past life as you once knew it. Being able to “lose yourself” to find yourself. It is a road–a journey–into emptiness.
Emptying Your Cup
A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor’s cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. “It’s overfull! No more will go in!” the professor blurted. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.” – Zen Koan
Emptying your cup means letting go of all past knowledge and perceptions and allowing yourself to look at life and experiences with fresh “new” eyes. It is not a negation of the self, but a full embracing of the self and humanity. Be like a sponge to new experiences, places, and people. Realize that all people are mostly good, and have faith in humanity. The road to emptiness is a minimalistic approach to a Zen lifestyle and the road an excellent Zen teacher. It takes a complete leap of faith to trust in the kindness of strangers, and the randomness of the Universe. Hitchhiking is the “hardest” form of travel, but in many ways can also be the most rewarding.
Sometimes You Have to Lose Yourself to Find Yourself
Getting lost is all part of the journey. When I broke up with an ex almost 2 years ago, we co-habited together and shared a mortgage. I moved out, and he kept most of our acquired furniture and possessions. For me, letting go of the possessions was liberating myself from a past life. I didn’t want to deal with “fairness” and equal splitting because I came in with little possessions and left with less. For me, It only solidified the fact that I was the drifter coming into his life. When I sold and gave away most of my remaining possessions to help get me to Asia, it was another load off my proverbial chest. I was prepared to get even more lost than ever before. I guess popular culture calls this the “quarter-life crisis” (I’m past the quarter century mark but it’s been building up since then) but for me, life is no longer a state of crisis. I’m enjoying every minute of being “lost” and I don’t want to be found!
Letting go of my possessions and of my self, “emptying my cup”, has been essential in helping me find out who I am, what my passions are and what drives me. It’s been nearly two months at the monastery. Two months of seeing transcendence in the mundane. Two months of routine in the presence. Two months of a vastly different life. Two years ago, I was living in my own house. A year ago, I was living with two gay guys and their three male cats and a whole new group of friends. Who am I? Am I lost? I don’t even know what my “real life” is anymore because each year is so vastly different. Empty my cup. Live in the moment.
The Road to Emptiness
My own journey is still at the monastery, but in August, I will be going to Taiwan for another monastery stay at their headquarter temple. After that, my wanderlust soul is tempted to walk the entire island of Palawan, Philippines with a local. The journey would be 280 miles of jungle and beaches. Since Palawan is the least developed island of the Philippines, it is also one of the most gorgeous. The vision is that we would journey on a “peace walk”. Traveling, teaching and exchanging our various skills to the people we meet along our way. He is skillfully trained in Kali/Eskrima, a Filipino Martial Art style that was most notably used for the training of Matt Damon’s role in the Bourne Identity trilogies. Learning Filipino martial arts was also part of my bucket list for the year and he’s mentioned that we could train. If this is the Road to Emptiness and learning how to let go of the self, it sounds good to me! Experiencing culture in an intimate way, on foot, with cool, clear night skies and the stars as our blanket is something no tourist rarely sees.
One thing Artyom lives by when on the road is the philosophy that asking for help is completely OK and necessary. What’s the worst that can happen when you ask for help? Either they say yes and you get what you want or they say no and you carry on as before. You don’t lose anything with the no but you gain so much with a simple yes. Faith is tested while you’re on the road. The age old rules of “do unto others what you would have them do unto you” and “you sow what you reap” is part of the exchange. Being on the road is a karmic system. Do good deeds and treat others kindly. If you give genuine kindness without expecting anything in return, situations will start turning in your favor. This is the Zen lessons of the road.
07:
When most people think of meditation, they think of sitting monks or yogi’s in half or full lotus pose.
When you sit, just sit.
Chan Buddhism?
Zen Buddhism is the Japanese version of Chinese Chan Buddhism. Buddhism started in India and then spread to parts of Asia including China and finally Japan. What the West has popularized as “Zen” has been in practice in China before Japan. The modern day Zen aesthetic and minimalistic Zen lifestyle is romanticized in Japanese culture. Chan and Zen are virtually the same thing, with slight (respective language) cultural differences but the same practice.
Zazen
Because I am more familiar with Zen Buddhism, as it’s called in Japan, the type of sitting meditation we practice is Zazen, or just sitting. This main practice of Zen is to study the self and most importantly, focus on the breath. Where do your thoughts go and how do you observe it? Count your breath and focus on true awareness. The back should be perfectly straight in posture, and your tongue should rest on the roof of your mouth, touching just behind the teeth. Practitioners are suggested to count each inhalation and exhalation of the breath from one to ten, starting over at one again and so on. This technique allows you to stay present. If any thought arises, simply observe the thought and let it go. Do not suppress the thought, for that is attachment to the thought. Think of yourself as an outside observer watching your mind wander. Do not try to control it, just see where it takes you and let it go, taking your focus back to your breath. The mind is a funny thing. It acts as if it has a mind of its own. Thoughts seem to wander as if uncontrollably.
Sometimes, meditation is physically and emotionally exhausting. My body feels like its just run a marathon! If I’m ever lost in the woods, all I’ll do is meditate and I’ll be able to keep myself warm. Beads of sweat drip down my chest, back and arms. We sit here for 30 minutes straight, trying not to move a muscle, and focusing on our breath. Tingling pain drives up my foot and into my legs halfway through the session. In full lotus pose, my foot falls asleep. The numbness starts to become euphoric.
Sometimes, my mind wanders to thoughts I thought I had buried or dealt with, but they have resurfaced. Memories I don’t want to relive. Nothing bad, but bittersweet nostalgia that I want to let go. It is like an emotional detoxing. Once my mind wanders to these emotionally draining memories, I am able to finally let them go and rid myself of the emotion. This letting go process is spiritually, emotionally and mentally draining. Sometimes, I want to cry. I don’t though.
All this detoxing is immeasurably better than how I used to deal with my emotions. The waves are only little ripples now. I observe my self and I’m gone. I exercise to feel better, to shake it off. No longer bothered by my past.
29:
Lately, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. Like I’m Alice in Wonderland and growing giant way too fast for my self to catch up. Like these growing pains are leaps and bounds and I don’t know what to do with myself. Like my soul is stretching and my body feels awkward housing it.
Down the Rabbit Hole
It’s all down the rabbit hole from here. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore. Nothing makes sense except for the will to keep going, learning, and discovering. Discovering that I have a strong personality, and fierce independence that makes me proud of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Discovering that I am happy, despite the overwhelming confusion. Discovering that who I am is enough.
Traveling to Asia and seeing what life has in store for me has been a whirlwind. For a self-proclaimed homebody (and I’ve been keeping to my word here), I have found that I have an adventurous side that loves to travel and discover. I am full of paradoxes, and a traveling homebody is just one of many. I’m off the deep end now. About to leave for a Zen/Buddhist monastery in less than 24 hours. My thirst for travel getting stronger.
I guess what I mean to say is goodbye. I don’t know. I don’t know how else to write without sounding like fluttering butterflies and hearts and wings. I can’t help that I’m a romantic. And that I’m a dreamer with my head in the clouds, and my foot reluctantly planted on the ground. I can’t help that I wish for things like epiphanies and true presence. I have no idea what I’ll get out of my experience in the next four months of asceticism, or what exactly it is that I’m “searching” for, but I come with no expectations.
Here’s to chasing rabbits.
14:
So remember when I said I “wasn’t Buddhist enough”? Through a delightfully random and last minute turn of events, I have the opportunity to join a four month retreat to study Zen, practice meditation, learn Mandarin Chinese, garden, cook and eat all vegetarian, and generally live a minimalistic, simple way of life. This will be four months of seclusion at a Buddhist temple, all expenses paid for during the program, monthly allowance money given to up to 15 applicants, and an amazing chance of a lifetime for personal growth! The only expense would be my transportation to and from the retreat.
It’s funny how the universe provides when I have a “problem”.
Problem #1: “I’m not Buddhist enough!”
In high school, I began to think about philosophies which aligned to Buddhist thought prior to having read anything about Buddhism. One of my friends even remarked, upon a discussion we had, that I was talking about concepts she was reading about in a book by the Dalai Lama. That was one high compliment, and then, another friend I met likened me to a Bodhisattva (Enlightened being that chooses to reincarnate to help others through their journey to Nirvana. Basically, a teacher, helper and giver.). While I’m far from being Enlightened, or even a sage, both compliments have really stood out to me throughout the years. Although my philosophies naturally align with Buddhism, I choose not to label myself as Buddhist because I simply don’t feel “Buddhist enough”. I’d much prefer taking concepts of Buddhism and Christianity and what have you and apply them to my life in constructive ways. The focus is in living a good life, rather than a good Buddhist life. Despite all this, I could certainly learn more about Buddhism because my grasp of the philosophy is basic, at best. When I say I’m not “Buddhist enough”, days later, the Universe (or you know, the internet) provides me a solution.
Problem #2: My family
As a Westerner, and as an American, it has been a complete culture shock and frustrating to realize that I can not do anything or go anywhere by myself. Every decision isn’t my own decision, but a family made one. If at age 26, my family disapproves of an activity, I am not allowed to do it…
I’m the solitary panda. I’m used to hopping on a bus, or the subway by myself. Walking down the streets of Portland in Old Town, Burnside, Skidmore… the “Bad” side of town without worry. Always keeping on my toes, and my wits about me (a lesson learned through martial arts training), but still not worried nonetheless. I came here to learn about “community” and “family values”. I know that. But the stimuli has been overwhelming at best. For someone solitary, not “getting” family values in my normal life, an only child, and (as much as I hate to say) a somewhat spoiled American, this is unreasonably ridiculous and bizarre. I feel like I’m 16 again, and a rebellious 16 year old at that! If my family doesn’t “approve” of this retreat because it’s different than Catholicism, they can NOT stop me. I’m the outsider looking in and a traveler. I love my family but I have been looking for a way “out” to experience more of the Philippines islands, to travel. It’s funny that my solution for “getting out” is by signing in to a monastery where I will have four months seclusion at two Buddhist temples and no allowance for “going out” and roaming outside the quarters. Despite the intensity, and strict code to simplicity and routine, I think it will be an amazing experience!
It is good to point out that none of these problems are really problematic. With a little perspective shift, they become different things entirely, and always an opportunity for learning and growth.
My first dose of zen came about in book form. The same friend who had likened me to a Bodhisattva recommended me what is now one of my favorite books: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values. If the title in itself is a handful, wait until you read the book! I first picked it up my freshman year of college. It was by happenstance that my friend and I decided to randomly wander into an old local bookstore. The kind of old bookstore with a cat, and woman with the “librarian” look. Sure, maybe Zen and the Art of.. is relatively popular and no one wanted this tattered used thing, but there it was when I wasn’t even searching! Immediately, I bought it and read 300+ pages of thick philosophy in under a week; loving every page! This book floored me, changed me, and made me feel alive.
Never, in a million years, would I think that I would ever get a chance to join a monastery, or even feel interested in such a thing. In just about two weeks, I will have a little more Zen in my life. I can’t think of a better way to feel so Alive. I look forward to every (present) moment.
