Discouragement & Solitude

So my chronic illness relapsed about three weeks ago (right after that post about how great I was feeling, naturally!), and I’m trying to dig my way out again. I can manage about two hours out and about in the world each day, as long as there is comfortable enough seating.

Which is a problem at the Zen Center. I’m discouraged that even a group founded on the basis of SITTING still involves too much athleticism for me. I need to sit on something that has back support, and here’s the kicker: head support as well. And, understandably I suppose, there are no lounge chairs at the Zen Center. I tired more quickly than normal during the hour-long class this morning, which itself is in a room up three flights of stairs.

Still, I thought, perhaps there is a way for me to be involved at the center and to meditate during the week with others. I can manage 30 minutes of sitting on the floor if I can rest my back against something at least. I asked if it was all right if I sat leaning against the wall, and was very kindly informed that no, meditation during the week at this center is done facing the wall, not leaning against it. It’s okay, I understand—there is order and ritual involved here, and I’m not going to try to tromp in like a bull in a china shop demanding accommodations.

But I am discouraged. It all circles round to what I’d rather it not: that if I’m going to do this and really develop a meditation practice, I have to do it alone. More solitude, in all it's many textures.

Beginning Zen & Crumbling Idols

I went back to the Zen center today for another beginner's class (the 2nd of 4). I've been sitting for meditation by myself most days this past week. It is... Well, now I don't really know how to describe it! It is calming. It is not earth-shattering. But on days that I do it, I find myself more mindful of my thoughts as they pass the rest of the day.

And I have been writing, really writing again. I'm getting ahold of the book finally, it starts to feel less chaotic, less disorienting. I have set a deadline for this draft. The self-discipline of meditation has spilled over into that of writing. When I face resistance in writing now, it is no great shock. As most writers will attest: it is what happens. I acknowledge the resistance, I gently nod to it in greeting. And then I put my pen back on the page and keep writing.

It's funny, reading Natalie Goldberg's writing books was my first introduction to Zen (though I didn't know it at the time, I just knew I liked the way she saw the world). I found out only after I'd visited the Zen center here in Minneapolis that it was founded by her teacher, Katagiri Roshi. She wrote Writing Down the Bones and Long Quiet Highway while still half-idolizing him, before she became so disillusioned after his death when she discovered he'd carried on affairs with some of his other female students.

I'm glad to hear this tale of disillusionment as I begin. Is that funny? I like to see things get real, to have the illusion debunked that there is any way of life that will keep men holy. I saw it enough in Christianity, I was not surprised to find it here as well. People are people, thier foibles and sins remain. All idols have clay feet, and tend to crumble given enough time (and power or authority). Our human-ness will out.

I feel more compassion for this condition than I have in the past. But then again, I am more compassionate with myself. Most days anyway ;)