It's The Process Not the Painting

"I was talking with an artist friend once at a gallery opening for his rock sculptures.  I asked whether he would miss not having his favourite works around once buyers had purchased them." He scoffed, " I could take these stones and throw them in the bottom of the ocean," he said.  He meant it.  His joy came not from the objects but the work itself.  It was the act of creation, not the creation itself, that gave his life meaning."  This quote is from "Zen Guitar", by Philip Toshio Sudo.  I am quite captivated by this little book right now.  I bought it for my partner (he's the guitar player) but I pick it up often (the book not the guitar) and read the short chapters for inspiration and Dharma.  He's (Sudo, not my partner) talking about life really, the instrument is really incidental, in my mind.

I think any one engaged in any work they love would agree with Sudo's friend.  It is the process of doing what you love that is exciting and fills you with the enthusiasm that pulls you out of bed in the morning (most mornings).  If I'm not careful I can start work without combing my hair, forget to take a walk and keep on going until supper time and wonder where the day went.  

And how does that relate to the Dharma?  Well I think they are talking about  valuing the process, rather than the objects of life; the moving, living quality of doing and being rather than the stuff that we sometimes chase after.  It's easy to get confused and think it's about the money or the house or the new shoes (not that any of these things are bad) but at the end of the day if you put all your eggs in the "stuff" basket, you'll have a pretty boring dinner (oh no, not more eggs again.  Those hard boiled ones are a bit stinky).

I think they're also talking about being fully engaged in life, living whole heartedly in a round about way.  It's about finding your passion and pursuing it.  Not thinking of a thousand reasons why it will never work, how you can't make a living at it, or you're not really that good at it.  (Malcolm Gladwell in his latest book, 'Outliers' says it takes 10,000 hours to master a skill!)  It's about following your heart or your bliss, as Joseph Campbell called it.  And then you end up at the point of Sudo's friend, not really being attached to the product or the end result, but being clear about what is really important to you: the act of creating, of living.  The more you live this way, the braver and more confident you get, and I think, the more willing to take a risk or two.

So whether we remember it or not, we are the artists of our own lives .  No painting or guitar playing required, but they do add fun!  We are the works of art, our lives, the process.  So in each new moment we have the opportunity to create ourselves from scratch.  Trouble is a lot of the time we're worried about how the work looks.  Is that the right shade of blue?  Or do we look stupid, unskilled or foolish?  We're busy checking on the product, rather than jumping in whole heartedly and enjoying the process.  We would be happier, more satisfied I think, were we to paint our lives with a little wild abandon, to follow our intuition a little more, to be absorbed in the process of living.  It makes me think of a favourite movie, "Harold & Maude".  So which one are you in this little screen play of life, Harold or Maude?

Another Zen Dance Lesson, Ouch My Toes Hurt!

"The Japanese word for crisis, kiki, translates two ways: as "danger occasion," but also "danger oppor-tunity."  Look for the opportunity in the chance occurrence.  How you react to the unexpected reveals your true spirit.  In this dojo, learn to fall like a cat -- on your feet."  Philip Toshio Sudo, "Zen Guitar"

Well it was hardly a crisis situation but it was the unexpected and rather than land like a cat, I did the stunned bird slides down the window routine.  And we won't go into what my true spirit looked like when it was revealed.  I don't think I am quite up to that sight.  If you'd seen it, you'd probably have called 911.

You've heard me call my mother my great teacher if you've stopped by here before and yesterday, class was in.  We were doing our tango of pain.  She doing a little manipulation, me feeling angry and trapped.  (I thought we were done with that one!)  Just when you think you're out of the woods, another tree falls on you.  And yet, and yet .... I know this is what practice is about.  Life does not exist to make me happy.  And sometimes we are just not that skillful ....  That was yesterday and today I have the misery hangover.

 And if I didn't already feel bad and mad, my Zen teacher reminded me that I can do better, I can come up with some creative solutions to the problem.  She reminds me how I walk right into these things and that my view of my mother is coloured by seeing her as a manipulator.  And she reminds me that my aim is really to respond with compassion to my mother.  She acknowledges that this is all difficult but that she knows I can do it and that's what training is all about.  If I'm looking for sympathy (which I am, just a small slice, please, with a little ice cream) I won't find any here.  Do you know the old joke  about if you're looking for sympathy (one of my personal favourites and a bit too rude to repeat here) you'll find it in the dictionary between 2 words that begin with S.  I'll give you a hint, one is a venereal disease and the other is the impolite term for excrement.

So I'm feeling kinda low.  It's March, it's snowing and the pace of my day has felt like I'm walking in molasses.  But as I feel sorry for myself I am jolted awake as I read a piece on the  situation in Tibet over at Chaplain Danny's blog and I think to myself, man what are you complaining about?  It snaps me into a new reality.  As Humphrey Bogart said in Casablanca "my problems don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world..."  And I lighten up a little, not a lot, but a little.  There's a full moon hanging around outside the bedroom window right now, ginger tea and cookies are on the way and life is pretty good by any standards. We'll try the kiki thing again tomorrow.

bows to you all and good night.