Category: body

okayu

Master Dogen, the founder of the Soto School of Zen Buddhism in Japan, wrote that there are ten benefits to the traditional rice porridge (okayu) served at Zen temples. They are: it gives the body healthy color, increases strength, does not sit heavy on the stomach, extends life, makes the voice clear, aids digestion, prevents colds, relieves hunger, relieves thirst, aids excretion. All important and healthy benefits. In my quest for good health, I have been searching the internet for some authentic okayu recipes, and found a few here, here, and here. I also just returned from my local health food store and picked up some instant brown rice hot cereal from Arrowhead Mills. We’ll see how my little food experiment works. I suppose if I eat like a zen monk these next few weeks, I’ll lose weight and feel a little better about the approaching beach season in Maine. I’m also thinking a little more metaphysically about Dogen’s advice to the Zen cook. He writes “Prepare the rice today for tomorrow’s gruel.” Zen’s emphasis on the present moment, and its dismissal of the past and future as things that don’t really exist and therefore shouldn’t be worried about, sometimes leads people to believe that Zen doesn’t care about the future or is somehow completely impulsive. Not true. Living in the present moment also means taking care of the future. If you want to eat tomorrow, you’d better plan to shop today. Planning for tomorrow’s gruel doesn’t represent an obsession with the future. Just a common-sense approach to it. An American Zen teacher, when asked what the meaning of Buddhism is, replied “Doing what’s required.” And yet, the next question might be: what kind of rice porridge are you preparing tomorrow? Or more deeply: what kind of person are you preparing to be tomorrow? If you don’t know the answer, your grocery shopping might be in vain.

miracle medicine

Although my eye feels better, my body has not been filled with light lately. An emotional healing process and all the pressures of daily modern life had taken their toll. As I set off on my walk, with Spiritualized’s muted, beautiful, new album on my headphones, it started to rain. I was planning a six-mile walk, and this was no way to begin. But I pulled up my hoodie, kept my had down, and after a few short minutes, the skies began to clear just enough, and I could see streaks of sun behind the grey clouds. I actually took my headphones off so I could hear the birds singing. Sometimes one walk can change everything. I am reminded this morning of a brochure I picked up in he lobby of the Adventist hospital where my son was born almost eight years ago. It was called “Walking: The Miracle Medicine.” It advocated walking as the best form of exercise, as well as a vegetarian diet, and abstaining from smoking, alcohol, and caffeine. There was a religious message as well, and although I do remember the word “God” used a few times, I can’t say the message was overly preachy. This small tract basically advocated living a pure life, and there is certainly nothing wrong with that. I don’t know where that little pamphlet is today (I managed to keep it for at least a few years) but I am always reminded of its message whenever I go for a walk. Walking isn’t just good for the body. It’s good for the spirit. On a walk, you can let you mind off its leash. I started a book today called Eat Sleep Sit by Kaoru Nonomura. It’s about the author’s yearlong experience training as a Zen Buddhist monk at Japan’s most rigorous Zen temple, Eiheiji. founded by Dogen in the 13th century. His experience begins with a walk to the temple gates. After a meal and a night’s sleep, “I turned and looked back. Yes-that was where I’d stood so long the previous day…In the end I’d shed my sandals and crossed the threshold. The place was the same as yesterday, but I myself was changed. During the single night I’d spent behind that door, everything that had made me me had disappeared.” The person that leaves the house in the morning with raindrops falling on her head is not the same person that returns to the house two hours later with sunshine on her face. Likewise, the person that goes to sleep at night is not the same person that wakes up in the morning . This process continues our entire life. In fact, it is our entire life. Thankfully.

shine a light

Normally, I would be hesitant to begin a post with a quote from the Bible. As a recovering Catholic, I shy away from anything that suggests preachiness. But here is a beautiful image that I saw in my eye surgeon’s office yesterday. It’s calligraphy by an artist named Michael Noyes. Although the translation of this verse that I prefer comes from the NRSV (“The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light.”), I can still relate. In my case, I suffered an injury to my left eye that I have been dealing with for months now, but has hopefully been healed by a procedure I had done last Thursday. I can tell you from experience that Matthew 6:23 is also true: “But if your eye is unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” The exclamation point says it all. Of course, Jesus isn’t just speaking about bodily health here; he is talking about spiritual health. But when you are in pain, be it physical or spiritual, then not only yourself, but the whole world, can seem full of nothing but darkness. I woke this morning, pain-free, and hearing the birds outside my window. This, after spending the last five days recuperating at home, mostly in my darkened bedroom, listening to music, wearing dark glasses, and occasionally pleasantly numb from pain medication. As I predicted in my last post, Spiritualized was streaming almost nonstop through my headphones. That, and Jason Pierce’s earlier group, Spacemen 3. (Funny that one of Spacemen 3′s albums I had on constant repeat was called Forged Prescriptions) I also had what I can only describe as various totems and charms scattered around my bed. The hard wooden mala beads bought from a Zen Buddhist monastery in upstate New York. The yellow Livestrong bracelet. The copper statue of the Buddha from Thailand. The plastic Kung Fu Panda Happy Meal toy my kids bought for me at a yard sale a few years ago that says “Skadoosh” when you pull on his arm. The get-well card from my pen pal in Portland, Oregon. The Oxford Bible. Maybe all of these things healed me. Maybe none of them did. Maybe it was my surgeon’s tools and his calm, sure hands. The truth is, I’m not sure if I’m really healed at all. Not the all-the-way, without-a-doubt kind of healed anyway. Jason Pierce sings a lot about Jesus in his music. In fact one reviewer classified his music into three types: Love songs, drug songs, God songs. Healing can happen in many ways, an even though today is a rainy day, my whole body is full of light.

get spiritualized

I could be paraphrasing, but I believe it was David Byrne who said that writing about music was like dancing about architecture. Five years ago, this blog started out essentially being about walks in the woods, skinny-dipping, and homespun Zen wisdom. Funny to be where I am now. Most of my posts couldn’t have been possible without modern technology. A far cry from Henry Thoreau’s books, journals, pencils, wood-shingled cabin and flute. So much of what I write about, I assume that people already know. Sometimes it seems like a binary echo chamber in here, this virtual cabin in the woods. Later this week, I’ll be laid up in bed, recovering from some minor surgery. Not exactly a near-death experience like Jason Pierce of Spiritualized had, but I’m sure there will be a fair amount of suffering all the same. It almost seems silly to post links to this, one of my favorite bands of all time, when you can just Google them or look it up on Wikipedia. Instead, I’ll just give you a link to a story on Pierce’s illness , the band’s webpage, and Pitchfork’s review of Pierce’s newest album. Most of what Pierce and his band mates have done over the years is stellar. My personal recommendations would be to start with their transcendent Royal Albert Hall recordings, and then maybe check out the slyly named Complete Works Volume 1. What does Spiritualized sound like? Hope plus death plus drugs plus transcendence plus heaven plus drone, all backed by a 40-member gospel choir. As I’m recovering from my procedure, I’ll be channeling Pierce’s soaring, spiritual music through my ear buds, and it will be miles better than any drug the doctor can prescribe. Why don’t you smile, now?

ultra, nostalgia

I owned a pair of these sneakers once, a long time ago, and probably when they were still made in the United States. The Cortez they were called. They weren’t my first pair of Nikes, and they wouldn’t be my last. In fact, I remember my first pair of Nikes, canvas high-tops with a black swoosh, bought at the JC Penney store in the Camillus Mall. What is it about sneakers that captivates us so? It didn’t skip a generation because my seven-year-old son is the same way, even though his obsession with footwear sure didn’t come from me. I also remember my dad buying me a pair of leather Nike high-tops from a discount store in my hometown. They were a size 12, a full two sizes bigger than what I wore. This would have been my freshman year in high school. I remember stuffing paper in the toes so they didn’t slip off my feet in gym class. Thinking back on this reminds me of an old Laverne & Shirley episode I saw when I was a kid. Laverne comes back from a shopping trip and pulls a gigantic pair of ladies underwear from her bag. Shirley asks what size they are. Laverne replies they’re a size 62, but they were on sale. I’m thinking about this because I went to a sporting goods store this evening to buy a six-pack of athletic running socks. They were black, low-cut, like the Fab Five wore, and made by Nike. I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were made in the USA. Not much is anymore, and I know that Nike is still making shoes overseas with questionable labor practices that sell for $150 and that people fight and sometimes die over. What is it about shoes, not just Nikes, but any shoes, that make us love and covet and fight and steal and sometimes die for? I know Nike has a bad reputation, but that swoosh, back when it was innocent, reminds me of my youth. Which was also innocent in most ways. And hard to let go. Meanwhile, and possibly unrelated, here’s a dose of nostalgia from the great Frank Ocean:

reborn at 45

I’m going to kick-start my running career this week, starting today, and I’ve been reading a lot of George A. Sheehan. Sadly, most of his books on running are out of print, but you can still track them down in used bookstores, libraries, and online. There’s a great website here that has published a number of his inspirational essays. One of his essays really touched me. It’s called The Start-Reborn at 45. And here’s a small sample from one of his essays entitled “The Fitness”:

“When Bill Rogers was teaching school, he ran during most of his free time. One day, the principal called him into the office. “Bill’,” he told him, “you will have to make a decision. The time has come to concentrate on your vocation.” Rogers took his advice. He quit teaching…Personal growth must precede professional growth. What you do in your profession is a function of the person you are. That must, therefore, be your top priority.”

Good advice, indeed. I also turn 45 this year, and have lain dormant for far too long. It’s never too late to begin again, and to just start where you are. It just so happens that there’s a church across the street from my house. The parking lot of this church is empty six days a week. It has a gentle slope, has a nice view of the woods, and is well-lit at night (I prefer to run at night). I measured it with my car’s odometer and it’s exactly 1/10 of a mile per lap. So, ten laps to a mile. Turns out I’ve got my own personal track right outside my door.  I’m taking small steps, relaxing, and having fun. I don’t think I’ll end up like the marathon monks of Mount Hiei in Japan, but a 45-year-old, born-again runner can dream:

six mile

No, it’s not the prequel to the Eminem movie. It’s time to simplify. I tried a vegan diet for one month, to mixed results. Despite the predictions I had read in various books and websites, I did not miraculously lose weight or start glowing by giving up all animal products. In fact, I got fatter. Maybe this was because I overcompensated for my non-violent piety by eating tons of dark chocolate (vegan) and drinking lots of beer and red wine (also vegan). I took Omega-3 pills and B-12 supplements, but I was still tired all the time. I also lost my motivation to exercise. Maybe I thought if I just gave up milk, meat, and cheese, I’d suddenly lose 20 pounds just by walking back and forth from my car to my front door each morning and evening. This is not to say that my little experiment didn’t have its benefits. I discovered sauteed collard greens, Earth Balance butter, and red beans and rice. I learned all about factory farms and how our food is made by reading books like Gristle, Ominvore’s Dilemma, The Jungle Effect, Food Rules, and watching films like Food Inc. and King Corn. My wife and I decided to buy a farm share again, and I found a local farm that sells fresh vegetables and makes its own Maine maple syrup just a few miles from my home. I learned that cows were never meant to eat corn, and that’s why there is so much e.coli in the world. That most of the antibiotics in this country are given to healthy farm animals on industrial feed lots to overcompensate for crowded, unsanitary conditions. My vegan month was an eye-opening experience, and it’s true that once you know something, you can’t unknow it. I’ll never eat at McDonald’s again unless I’m on the verge of starvation. I don’t miss meat, but I also know that I probably haven’t had my last cheeseburger. I certainly haven’t had my last Greek yogurt. But if I do have a cheeseburger again one day, I’ll try to make sure the beef was grass-fed and came from a small organic family farm. Do I feel like a failure? A little. But I can live with that. We are all evolving. We are hopefully becoming more moral, more just, more forgiving, more loving, more compassionate, more generous. So I bow down to the vegan gods, and Alicia Silverstone, for forgiveness. I’m not a Superhero yet. Maybe someday. For now, I need to simplify. The days are getting sunnier, longer, and warmer. Summer is close. I need to lose 20 pounds, and I am going to do that by walking six miles a day, swimming on my lunch break, doing the Hundred Push-Up challenge, and taking a day off once in awhile, maybe every Monday. Now I’m going to go get a slice of Buffalo chicken pizza….