Category Archives: zen

How to get things done (I’ve said this before – and it’s still true)

Kaspa writes: It would be lovely if I could just learn something once, and then have it learnt for good. However I find myself discovering the same things over and over again.

A few days ago Fiona and I were talking about moving house again. For a while we’d been toying with the idea of moving to a more rural, remote, location. A place where we could step out of the front door and into the countryside, instead of out into the street as we do now. In the end we decided to stay where we are, there are lots of good things about where we are now, and we hadn’t seen anything that ticked all of our boxes.

The decision to stay motivated us to think about how we use the space here. Could we be more settled in this house?

We bought two new (pre-loved) sofas for the sitting room. We moved one of our old sofas up into the office, and got rid of the other one. We moved the uncomfortable cane sofa that was in the office out into the conservatory and set about making the office into a livable space. If this winter is as cold as last winter, we’ll retreat up here away from the draughty single glazed sitting room…

The last big job was to sort though all the accumulated stuff on the shelves, and in the drawers of my desks… There were piles of papers I hadn’t looked at since I’d heaped them on the shelves, over a year ago, back when we moved in.

Last Sunday evening, after our furniture shuffle, my energy ran out. I knew that I’d got meetings on Monday (or thought I had, see Monday’s post: We all get things wrong sometimes) and we both had plenty of work to do on Tuesday. We earmarked Wednesday for the big sort out.

On Monday evening I was working in the office. Fiona was sitting up here too, looking at the mess on the shelves, thinking about starting to clear them. She said that she was going to make a start… An hour later, when I had finished my job, she was still sitting on the sofa… I can hardly blame her really. I didn’t want to start then, either…

On Tuesday Fiona was busy seeing clients all day. I did some writing in the morning, ran some errands in town, and then settled into some study. All the time ignoring the looming mess in the corner.

I’m re-reading Zen Therapy by David Brazier. One line jumped out at me. Of course I can’t find that line today, as I flick through the pages – but here’s another in the same spirit:

The way of Zen is supremely practical. Although we tie ourselves up in knots with our ideas and feelings, the way through generally begins with acting purposefully now. Know your purpose at this moment and there is no difficulty in knowing what to do. Paradoxically, perhaps, being able to act in this way means letting go of trying to control tomorrow or yesterday. Simply do the right thing now.

I put the book down and started sorting the shelves out.

I packed up around 30 books to be recycled (off to the amnesty bookshop later) and got rid of huge amounts of stuff. It wasn’t long before Fiona appeared. Together we created a space we can both live with. The essentials are stored on the shelves, the books we want to read are there, as well some beautiful objects we wanted to display. Job done.

We sat back and enjoyed the clean space. We enjoyed knowing that that we’d now have the whole of Wednesday free…. (I’m working at the weekend, so today is ‘our day’)… of course it’s now mid-morning and I’m writing a blog post while Fiona catches up on email…

In our hearts we often know what our purpose in this moment is. Whether it’s simply sorting through a years worth of junk, or joining the occupy movement, or baking a cake for a friend. In my experience the courage to take the first step comes with taking the first step. Simply do the right thing now.

If you want to explore Zen philosophy, and getting things done, think about joining my Eastern Therapeutic Writing course. It’s a month long, and we’ll also look at deepening our relationships with others through naikan and writing Japanese poetry…

It starts on Monday. More details here. (or email me)

(photo by cometstarmoon)

Living through difficult times – three things

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I’m living through difficult times right now. Don’t worry, I’m OK. But I’ve been thinking about how we can approach the stuff that life throws at us that we’d rather not catch. Duck! Run away!

I’m thinking about three things this morning. The obstacle is the path. Today is a good day. And what comes is a gift.

Ezra Bayda reminds us in his books that we often get frustrated by the things that ‘get in the way’ of our path. This could be the tedium of doing the washing up, or a crisis that prevents us from getting on with what we think we SHOULD be doing. He tells us that these obstacles ARE the path. They are the things life is made of. They are the things we learn from, the things we can practice with. It’s a matter of shifting our perspective.

The second thing is what my friend said to me at the weekend. She’s also going through difficult times, and when I saw her she’d just had some bad news. I said something about how awful she must be feeling, and she said, ‘Well, today is a good day’. How easily we forget to take one day (one minute) at a time.

The third thing is something I read in a Buddhist magazine – a quote by Reverend Master Daishin. He said, “What comes is a gift as it shows us what we need to offer.” This last word wasn’t what I expected, and it took me by suprise. What we need to OFFER? Isn’t this about me?!

In the long run, the things we learn help us to help others. We’re all in the same boat, after all. There’s something about the idea of making an offering that gives me comfort.

These thoughts are still a little jumbled, but I hope you can find something in them. My small offering.

More about perseverence – hanging on by a thread

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You MAY have noticed that this is a bit of a running theme at the moment ; )

I’m looking forward to reading Zen Heart by Ezra Bayda, which just arrived, but in emergencies it’s OK to cheat and open new books at random and see what you can find.

Here’s what I found – Bayda talking about perseverence:

At one point, when I was very involved at a Zen center in Northern California, I was hit, seemingly out of the blue, with a wall of resistance, and I didn’t want to sit any more, nor did I want to go to the center. But even though I couldn’t stand being there, something in me knew not to bolt. I forced myself to go to just one sitting a week, basically hanging by a thread. Then, after a few months, the resistance began to fade, and I reentered the practice wiht a deeper involvement than before, not only internally but also in the external activities at the center. The point is, sometimes simply persevering will allow us to move through even the worse resistance. Even when our practice efforts seem to produce very little in terms of tangible results, with the little mind seeing “failure” at every step, a part of us knows that we have no choice but to keep starting over. This is the only way we will ever go deeper into our life.

I was speaking to my artist friend on the phone yesterday. We were wondering if sometimes, when resistance really hits, what we should really do is allow ourselves to take a proper break, and to enjoy it, and to return to the work with more hunger.

Personally speaking, I’m not so sure. I think my current wall of resistance would still be there if I took a break for a fortnight (or a year) and it might even get a bit bigger in my absence.

Instead, I’ll open my manuscript this morning (right now) and type a single sentence. Better to hang by a thread than to let go.

PS I found this very beautiful painting, called ‘Hanging By A Thread’, on Gail Bourgeois’ site. I hope she’ll forgive me putting it up here if you promise to go and have a look around at her stunning work. I like this one and lots of others.

PPS Another interview is up at 100 Readers – meet Caroline. There are now 47 blogs with the widget and counting… got yours yet? And we have 14 Blogsplashers – do you want to play? Enough links yet?

Zen Therapy – the birds are singing

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I enjoyed the opening paragraphs to this book so much that I thought I’d share them with you – I hope David Brazier forgives me if I put this link here so you can buy his book for yourself.

ONE COLD SPRING DAY

My first encounter with the therapeutic power of Zen occurred in my first interview with my first Zen teacher on the first Zen retreat I ever attended. This was some twenty-five years or so ago. It became a turning point in my life. For some years Buddhism had interested me, but this was the real test. Now I was exposing myself to the experience and a large part of me was prepared to be disappointed.

We had been in silent meditation for most of the day. Outside the weather was sharply cold. The snow which had fallen the day before had frozen, overnight, and crunched under our feet when we went outside for short breaks between periods of sitting.

When my turn came, I went upstairs to the little room above the meditation hall, knocked, was invited in, entered, and sat down. A few moments of silence passed. I imagine that she was giving me an opportunity to begin. I stayed silent. She must have sensed my embarrassment. I was shy.

She looked at me in a very direct way. It was impossible to divine her mood, but I sensed a kindness in her eyes. After what seemed like an age, but could only have been a minute or two, she helped me out:

‘Is there anything to report?’ she asked.

In the context, this was a very open question. I could have used it almost any way. It could have been a basis for talking about technicalities of meditation practice. I could have used it as a springboard for a report upon my life. However, I was now even more paralysed than before.

There was something about her whole way of being which prevented me from saying anything trivial, and in that moment everything seemed to fall into that category. All the things which had seemed so important about my life before I entered the room now no longer seemed consequential at all. This seemingly simple question, ‘Is there anything to report?’ somehow demanded more than a commonplace response. It seemed to demand: ‘Can you say something which is ultimately true? Can you say it now?’ Although a thousand things flashed through my mind, nothing in my life seemed to pass the test.

Then, it was as though the universe rescued me. My life dropping away, all that remained was the two of us sitting face to face, in a room on a cold day with the window open on to the frozen garden.

‘The birds are singing,’ I said.

She smiled.

It was an exchange of nine words in all, yet it contributed substantially to changing the direction of my life.

*

Ah, the birds are singing. And so are we.

Meditation and Galaxy Caramel

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I have a modest meditation practice of 20 minutes every morning (although if you’ve tried sitting still then you’ll know how long 20 minutes can be!)

The idea is that I sit in lotus position facing a wall, and pay attention to my breath. If I have any thoughts, I just notice them and then return to paying attention to my breath. Simple!

This morning I crossed my legs, started my timer, and started thinking about Galaxy Caramel. I’m going shopping this afternoon and I wanted to add some to my shopping list. Then I returned to my breath. Then I thought about an email I needed to send. Then I returned to my breath. Then I thought about Galaxy Caramels. Then I thought about writing this post, and wrote most of it in my head.

Then I returned to my breath.

You get the picture. What hope do I have of getting anything done, if my mind skips about like a child (or like a Fiona) in a sweetie shop?

The returning bit is the key. It’s the same as being a writer. Life interrupts. Laptops break. Houses flood. It becomes necessary to go out for Galaxy Caramels. But I return to the writing. What else would I return to?

In other news….

Hello to my new readers – good to see you here!

I’ve set up a Questions and Answers group on Goodreads where you can ask me a question about anything you want. I won’t say I’ll answer them, but you can ask… click here.

The Blue Handbag has got even cheaper on The Book Depository (with free worldwide delivery) – here.

And the final stop of the Snowbooks blog tour was at How Publishing Really Works here.

Happy weekend!

A continual turning towards the genuine (and a free book and a thankyou)

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My new mystery novel The Blue Handbag has just gone down to £5.99 on Amazon UK – or if you’re not in the UK you can get it for £6.20 with free worldwide delivery from those jolly people The Book Depository. Again, it’s not officially released yet, so shhhh! Leonard and his dog Pickles would very much like to meet you.

I’m interviewed with the rest of the Snowbooks crew on Strictly Writing today – everyone else’s answers were much funnier.

Also I have a signed copy of John Tarrant’s ‘bring me the rhinoceros’ now (very kindly sent to me by the man himself, as a swap for my small stones) and so I’d like to give my unsigned copy away to a good home.

It’s about koans, which are a kind of Zen riddle, but it’s pretty accesible and I don’t think you’d have to know anything about Zen to enjoy it. It’s very wise and I know I’ll be returning to my copy again and again. There’s an extract below to whet your appetite. If you’re in the UK just send me an email and I’ll pick someone out of the hat at the end of the week. If you’re in the US or elsewhere feel free to enter if you’re happy to pay the postage, but then frankly you might as well buy yourself a shiny new copy of the book – sorry!

What makes a human life real and beautiful is available in every place. An insubstantial and alienated life – eating a hearty breakfast of a cardboard photo of corn flakes – is always on offer but its consolations are not consoling. In order to embrace a handmade life, you do have to be willing to deal with [...] awe and fear. But you have to deal with awe and fear anyway, and when you pay attention, a continual turning towards the genuine just happens.

I love that last bit. Pay attention, and a continual turning towards the genuine just happens. Here’s to that, and here’s to giving us the strength to turn towards all the messy and difficult bits too. John blogs at Zenosaurus.

I’m feeling grateful for this blog today, and to you, for reading. We’re in this big old boat together, after all. Thank you.

Shabby old Essential Zen

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I’m a person who likes shiny new things, as evidenced by my love of Rosie, and my excitement every time I get a new mobile phone.

I was disappointed when my second hand copy of Essential Zen arrived yesterday. It is an ex-library book from Wiltshire. It has a battered plastic cover and the pages are yellowing.
And then I read this paragraph, in the introduction.

We all tend to possess, accumulate, store, and consume, trying to have as much influence and control as possible in our daily lives. This produces a great deal of anxiety, which in turn creates a longing for freedom from such a mode of clinging. Sooner or later we may come to understand that we are free when we are not preoccupied, that we receive more by letting go, and that we achieve more by being selfless. This is the dynamics of nonpossession, which is an essential part of the creative process in the Zen world. (by Kazuaki Tanahashi)

Clever old Zen book, turning up in a battered form to give me another lesson.

My book has passed through at least forty hands – I counted the date stamps. Everything wears out. We can love things as they are.

Let it go. Let it come to you.

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Buddhism is a great tradition for me to have found, because it speaks so much of letting go.

I’m not the world’s greatest letting go-er. In fact you could call me a teensy bit controlling.

I also love the way Buddhists talk about everything being ‘an opportunity to practice’. It’s another way to look at all the messy stuff – the things that piss us off, the ways in which we feel we’re failing…

This morning I felt a bit panicky about my 100 Readers project [where I handed 10 copies of my next novel The Blue Handbag to 10 friends, who each handed their copy on to another friend, who will each...etc until I have 100 interviews].

I haven’t had a completed interview from anyone for a couple of weeks. I started thinking I ought to be finding out who has the books, chasing people up…

And then I let go. They will come to me. I don’t need to get my hands on these things so quickly. It’s like telling the dough to hurry up and rise.

Whilst we’re on the subject, here’s a good article about letting go at Tricycle.

PS Talking of bread, I pinched the whiskery bits from 2lbs of blackcurrants at the weekend and made 5 and a half jars of jam – labelled with my own coloured-in-with-felt-tip labels. This really is the life! Happy Monday x

Write for the sake of writing

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Another pearl of wisdom from Daily Dharma (sign up here).

Happiness is possible when you are capable of doing the things and being the things you want to do and to be. When we walk for the sake of walking, when we sit for the sake of sitting, when we drink for the sake of drinking tea, we don’t do it for something or someone else. Awakening means to see that truth—that you want to know how to enjoy, how to live deeply, in a very simple way. You don’t want to waste your time anymore. Cherish the time that you are given.

–Thich Nhat Hanh, from Answers from the Heart

Walk for the sake of walking. Write for the sake of writing. Drink tea for the sake of drinking tea. Who’d have thought the secret to happiness would be so simple?

From my window I can see white foxgloves with deep scarlet stains in their throats, and campanula the colour of the prettiest lilac summer dress you’ve ever seen.

Look at flowers for the sake of looking at flowers.

Rosie, Mike Skinner and me

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I’ve been thinking about Rosie, and how much I love her.

Buddhist thought suggests that clinging to stuff is the source of all suffering. Can I love her this much, and not set myself up for some suffering down the line?

For me, the key is to remember in my loving that I’m only ever borrowing her. I can love looking at her red dashboard, and driving her through town, without feeling that she is MINE.

It’s the same with the cottage we rent from a country estate. We love living here, but it isn’t ours. We just borrow it. Even when we have a mortgage, we’re only borrowing our houses.

In the words of that wise old sage, Mike Skinner aka The Streets:

I came to this world with nothing
And I leave with nothing but love
Everything else is just borrowed

The way I see it, I can love Rosie as much as I like, as long as I don’t start clinging. If someone drives into her, I’ll love her with her battered sides. If someone steals her, I’ll say goodbye and get a new car. There. Now I’m going to gaze at her shiny red dashboard again.

In other news, there’s a charming book review of The Blue Handbag on a blog called Badelynge. I like the way the author slides from reviewing into his own personal musings and then back into reviewing again. And Leonard would DEFINITELY watch Springwatch.

(here are convenience links to pre-order the paperback from The Book Depository (£5.99 for the book and free worldwide delivery) / Amazon UK / Amazon US or to treat yourself to the hardback The Book Depository / Amazon UK ).