what would henry do?

I’m still amazed by the bicycle. It is a miracle of human ingenuity and design. In its ubiquitousness the bicycle is easy to take for granted. But is there a more perfect invention? If there is, I can’t think of one. When idle, it humbly stands by, waiting only for the application of human energy to spring to life. As I was riding my bike to work this crisp morning and the pickup trucks and SUVs with the American flag decals were blowing past me, I smiled to myself and felt secretly superior. It’s amazing how your perspective changes when you’re on a bike. When I’m driving my car, I feel relaxed and safe. The world floats before me as I glide down the road in my cocoon of steel and glass. Nothing can touch me. But when I’m on a bike, all motorists become my enemy. I sometimes get the feeling that they are actually trying to drive as close to me as possible, just to give me a scare. In this way, riding a bike while others around you are driving seems like an almost rebellious act. During my commute this morning I was thinking about this notion of energy independence. It’s a phrase that gets tossed around quite a bit these days, especially due to the current crisis we’re in. As Americans, it seems that most of us equate freedom with the ability to do whatever we want. More specifically, to drive whatever we want. We have come to expect cheap gas as a God-given right. Somehow the ability to waste things (money, gas, food, energy, etc.) is the luxury we have of living in a wealthy country. But the fact that the fuel crisis has made its way to places like Costco, where they are limiting the amount of rice you can buy, should show us that we’ve been on the wrong track for quite some time. I’d like to abolish the notion that patriotism equals gluttony. I know energy independence to some means drilling for more oil in places like ANWR so that we can power our ever-increasing armada of heavy, lumbering gas-guzzlers. Criticizing SUVs is old hat and so I won’t get into that here. But I wonder if we’ve turned a corner in our thinking about energy independence. To conservatives, a country full of solar panels, wind farms, and geothermal plants, with armies of tree-hugging, bike-riding hippies cruisng around and using their goddamn hand signals might seem like some kind of Ralph Nadar-inspired Hell. But isn’t true energy independence the most patriotic, conservative position of all? So declare your energy independence! Leave your car at home and bike to your destination. You’ll feel very patriotic. Flag lapel pins optional.

I’ve just started reading The Freedom Manifesto by Tom Hodgkinson. His earlier book, How to be Idle, has been a major influence on my life. Like Linji’s business person, Hodgkinson is a great proponent of lounging, napping, drinking, playing music, bicycle riding, putting on parties, and basically saying “bollocks” to consumer society in general. He is also the editor of The Idler magazine (see the link on my sidebar) in the UK. I could probably quote the entire book here if I’m not careful, and since I suggest you read it at your earliest convenicne, I won’t do that. But let me just quote you a brief passage from the first chapter. Talking about the ways we might alleviate the anxiety that modern society produces in us, he says: “I have managed to cut down to one newspaper a week, which leaves a lot more time to concentrate on the important things in life, like drinking and music.”

A good first step…

That’s what we call it in my house. As in, “When the Bush money gets here, we can do (fill in the blank).” When I first heard that Congress passed legislation authorizing the rebate checks, I was ecstatic. Dreams of a sunny beach vacation for my family or a few new shirts from the Patagonia outlet danced in my head. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this money would be spent almost before it made it into my bank account. Unless I can somehow convert my ancient Accord’s engine to burn old socks for propulsion, I’ll be spending it on $4-a-gallon gas, and all the other bills that stem from this fact (food, electricity, water, heating oil, etc) The President has said that he’s simply giving Americans back “their own money,” but how can that be, when we are borrowing the money, probably from China, in the first place? There are some Buddhist organizations that I am fond of, and I would love to give a chunk of that money to them to help them build a stupa or make an addition to their meditation hall. I may still give $50 or $100 of “my own money” to these worthy causes. But the truth is that even though this is borrowed money, my family needs it too desperately to be able to give much of it away. We’ll use some of it to pay for our rather modest weekly vacation rental cottage on an island off the coast of Maine this summer, but other than that, we’ll pay bills, which is probably what most Americans will end up doing. Sorry, Ocean Palm Motel and Patagonia; I need to eat.

This past week, I had the occasion to come across a small book that I found in a used book shop while on holiday with my family in Portsmouth, NH . It is entitled A Record of Awakening by David Smith. The subtitle is Practice and Insight on the Buddhist Path. Written in his own hand, this self-described “ordinary chap”, a gardener from England, tells of his deep awakening while practicing the Way at a Threravada Buddhist monastery in Sri Lanka. I won’t be a plot-spoiler, but suffice to say that if you are sincerely interested in the Dharma, this may be quite an eye-opening book for you. It was extremely inspirational to me, an ordinary chap myself, to read the story of the enlightenment experience of someone who had no advanced education or special knowledge, just a sincere desire to awaken. At the end of his account, he gives a few words of final advice, and one of his phrases resounded very deeply with me. He says, “Immerse yourself in the Dharma, dive into it like you would a pool of cool water on a hot summer’s day, but never get out!” This past weekend I also had the occasion to experience a brief illustration of why it is so important to practice. I was at my in-laws’ house and as I was pouring red wine into a glass, it spilled all over the countertop. As I attempted to clean up the mess, I knocked over the wine glass and it almost shattered. I swore out loud, anger flashing. My daughter was right behind me, and heard me. She wanted to know what the matter was. In that instant I realized how foolish I must have looked, getting so upset over some spilled wine. That ever-present Me was wronged once again, by these mindless, inanimate objects. Upon reflecction, I saw the folly of thinking that we can somehow control every situation we find ourselves in. Shouldn’t we expect that if we open the bottle carefully, and slowly tip it towards the glass, that the wine will flow smoothly? But no. Despite our best plans, the wine spills or our car refuses to start or we lock ourselves out of our house or we lose our eyeglasses. But just who is it that gets so angry? I think practicing the Dharma can show us that there’s no one here to even get upset. Or maybe that I shouldn’t be drinking wine.

Multigrain pancakes for breakfast, then a 20-mile bike ride. Bright, sunny day. My Soen Roshi diet is pretty much out the window. I was going to attend a sitting group this morning, but I realize I have a greater affinity for solitary meditation. I’m more of a Bodhidharma kind of guy. I checked out a copy of the Mirror of Zen by Korean Zen Master So Sahn. I started reading it, and page one stopped me in my tracks:

“There is only one thing, from the very beginning, infinitely bright and mysterious by nature. It was never born, and it never dies. It cannot be described or given a name. What is this “one thing”?

Like Joshu’s “Mu!”, this question is like a hot ball of iron in my gut that I can’t get rid of.

Toast, yogurt, and eggs for breakfast. A medium Dunkin’ Donuts coffee with cream and sugar. So much for rice gruel. Still, I feel like I’m making progress. This morning, Saturday, I had no schedule, no timetable. I walked downtown with my three-year old son on my shoulders and realized that everything is the prefect, bright Buddhadharma. The sun was shining in the blue cloudless sky. We did errands together. Returning bottles at the grocery store, saying hello to neighbors, going to the sporting goods store to buy a pouch of “baseball gum,” even the dirty dishes in the sink, the messy house, the unraked yard, and the unmade bed all perfect in themselves, asking nothing, desiring nothing. Lately, I was getting depressed again, feeling like Tanzan, sending out my thoughts into the great silence of the internet. But today, even that silence echoing back to me was perfect. No mirror, no dust alighting. Today, I was filled with happiness for about three hours straight. I tried to think of a reason for why I should be so happy. Did I need a reason? I almost felt guilty for my happiness. Shouldn’t something be wrong, shouldn’t I be troubled? But no, no reasons came for my joy. It was just there, just so, with no restrictions. So now I say to you: Put down your questions, put down your striving, put down your doubt, put down your worry. As it says in the Heart Sutra, “There is no wisdom and no attainment. There is nothing to be attained.” Everything is perfect exactly as it is right now.

Rice porridge this morning with milk and honey, using a recipe from the Three Bowls cookbook I mentioned a few posts ago. In his advice to the Zen cook, or tenzo, Master Dogen says we should prepare the rice today for tomorrow’s gruel. In his journal Soen Roshi, commenting on the preparation of his monastery for winter, says, “Everything that needs to be attended to is done, yet no trace of effort is apparent.” These thoughts express the Zen spirt perfectly. When you do something, burn yourself up so there’s nothing left. After breakfast, I started to cheat a little. I had one cup of coffee because my PG Tips wasn’t cutting it and I was in such a foul mood. I could sense that I was giving off angry vibes. For someone who has caffeine every day, it’s startling to see your true nature without the drug. I swam 30 lengths on my lunch break today. So far, so good. Hoping to resist the temptation to stop after work and buy beer. Am I breaking the Fifth Precept if I have three beers tonight while sitting on the couch watching baseball? Does that count as “misuse of alcohol?” Friday night, Red Sox/Rangers at 7:05 pm: for me this is what Mara, or temptation, looks like.

For mid-morning meal, two cups of PG Tips tea, one bowl of rice cereal with milk. So far, so good. No coffee cravings yet. I think when you’re dieting, coffee can be the root of all evil. It stirs up the passions and makes those hungry ghosts come out.

For lunch, and my last big meal of the day, a green salad with various beans and vegetables, and one cup of vegetarian hot and sour soup. I’m unable to swim today due to work constraints, but I will take a brief walk on my lunch break. Right now it’s 11:47 am, so if I don’t take another meal until tomorrow, I’ll be following those early Buddhist precepts I spoke of. I’m guessing I’ll need an apple before then, however. It’s strange…even though I have just eaten, I find myself already thinking about my next meal. There must be a fear of starvation reflex that gets activated when you diet. I’ll be doing my four miles tonight, and I may have some nuts or a glass of milk before bed.

I think I’m going to call this my Soen Roshi diet. More thoughts on food from the master, again from his journal: “Although it is austere, my diet is nourishing. While I eat only one meal a day, it is filled with delicious tastes, and I am extremely grateful to nature for this bounty. It consists of nine types of food: black beans, green beans, azuki beans, white beans, soy beans, sesame seeds, pine nuts, pumpkin seeds, and brown rice. While chewing these things one after the other, I mix buckwheat powder with water. I also eat radishes, carrots, greens, fruits, seaweed, and pine leaves - whatever is available. I don’t use fire; I eat everything raw. Recently I have stopped using salt, unless it occurs naturally, as in seaweed. I take all things as they come in nature.” (Sounds a little like my friend Henry D. Thoreau with his bean patch. )

With Soen Roshi as my inspiration, I’m taking a vow. So here it goes. I’m going to try this regimen for one week, and give progress reports. Hopefully, having it in writing will keep me motivated. Onwards!

Rice porridge or multigrain cereal for breakfast.

Two meals a day.

No coffee or alcohol. Tea, water, or milk only.

Fruits, vegetables, beans, grains, nuts only. No animal products (except milk)

Swim 30 lengths a day weekdays.

Walk/run 4 miles every day.

Become fit and happy. Maybe gain satori.

I just came back from a “working lunch” where we listened to a speaker as we ate. This is a pretty common practice in business, where we eat but we can’t really pay attention to the meal that is nourishing us. The food was free and the speaker was engaging, but something was missing. During events like these, because our attention is split between eating and listening, we can’t bring mindfulness to either. I would like to institute a policy at my workplace where we eat in silence, much like the formal meals given at Buddhist monasteries called oryoki, then once we have given proper attention to our nourishment, we can shift our full attention to other matters. And yet, can you imagine the reaction if I suggested this? It goes against the cult of multitasking that we’ve all had to adopt. Somehow we’ve come to believe that if you can’t do two or three things well, and all at once, that there must be something wrong with you. But what really ends up happening is that we don’t do any of these mutiple tasks well, and because our attention was somewhere else, we weren’t present for any of them. So that time has slipped away, and we’ve spent it unskillfully. I say we all eat in silence, really take the time to taste, appreciate and enjoy our food, and then we can talk all we want. That way, we don’t lose time, or our lunch.