This Moment

This morning I continue reading “Stoep Zen” by Antony Osler.  A beautiful book about Zen life in South Africa. A book filled with phrases and passages that evoke childhood memories and fill me with laughter.  A book filled with short essays, haiku-like poems and photographs that invite me to live my life as simply and as profoundly as I can. A book that invites each reader to be fully present to whoever or whatever is before them. A call to find the heart of each moment. 

When Zen master Su Bong came one year for his retreat he had his usual bag of presents for Tongo and his family. Tongo was digging out thistles near the earth dam. Su Bong gave him the gifts. Tongo thanked him, picked up his spade and started digging again. Su Bong was so impressed. ‘That’s the way to live your life,’ he said that night. ‘You don’t need monk’s robes, just say thank you and get on with your work.’

As I reach the last few pages of the book, the tumble drier sounds its song. Whereas normally I might be tempted to “just quickly finish the last few pages”, I put down the book and go to the tumble drier.  I empty it, fold his socks and place them in the drawer.

As I do so, I fully realize that this is what I am doing. 

This might sound simple. It is and it is not. It is mundane and it is profound.

After closing the drawer, I decide to tweet.  

I fold his socks, then place them in the drawer. #thismoment

— Linda Hollier (@lindahollier) May 7, 2013

Continuing the musings I have been engaging in lately on the usage of Twitter to promote mindfulness, I am struck once again by the incredible potential it has to aid one in becoming aware of what is happening right now.  Often when I watch and note to myself what I am experiencing it sounds like a tweet!  

I return to my book, finish it, and then decide to write this blog.  

In preparation, I pick up my ipad, read many of the tweets with the hashtag #thismoment and then google the concept too.  

I discover an article from two days ago, in which the CEO of Twitter, Dick Costolo, urges graduates to “Be In This Moment”.

Ironically, Costolo didn’t learn this lesson while at Twitter, a platform which in many ways embodies the very philosophy of “being in this moment.” He learned it as an improvisational comedy student in Chicago before, as Costolo puts it, “the internet happened.”

Listening to the video incorporated into the article, I am aware of synchronicity, and then realize it is always there but we do not always see it. 

Making my way to my laptop, my mind begins to wander and I note its wanderings. 

I recall the the piece I once wrote entitled, “The Dalai Lama and Synchronicity” after I saw him in The Hague. I think about impermanence and then recall that I noticed upon my return to Dubai last week that the old "Hard Rock Cafe" is no longer standing. That blog must be about a year old.

Not wanting to hold onto these wanderings too long, I note them, let them go, and then sit down to type.

The mind throws in one last attempt - Remember the blog “Booma Dollies and Onions”; you wrote this piece about watching the mind! Seated at my laptop by now, I look it up, but its message very quickly brings me back to this moment. 

And so I write this blog and you read it. Are we separate? Are we different? Are we one? Are we the same?

Or is there a point where we can go beyond labels and opinions? A point where we can see differences but move past them? That is the point when the wonders of life make themselves known without a need for understanding. 

Right now, this moment, the words appear on my screen as my fingers tap out the letters.  Your eyes move across the page as you read.

I turn to glance out the window

The Burj Khalifa stands tall

The sun is shining.

Mostly Somewhere Else

Day 4 of my 14 day fast and detox in Thailand is underway.  After spending almost two days being ill, flat on my back most of the time, I am happy to report that I am feeling good. 

As the body eliminates toxins, various symptoms arise but thankfully they pass. To remember this while they are happening and to simply accept the experience is not so easy!

This morning, after a downpour of rain, the group stepped through the puddles and made our way to a deck overlooking the beach for our daily kundalini yoga session. The focus today was on the heart chakra. Sun salutations and chanting filled the space.

To end the practice, intentions for the day, uttered out loud, were shared. More than one participant expressed a need to be in the now and not worry about matters back home or what they would be doing upon departure.

Perhaps you’ve come across the two passages that follow before, but they always serve as a good reminder that our perception of reality is often distorted and blurred, and that it is even possible to live somewhere, be among people, and yet not truly see or hear. 

In  “Zen and the Art of Motor Cycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values”, Robert M. Pirsig describes two climbers:  

“To the untrained eye ego-climbing and selfless climbing may appear identical.  Both kinds of climbers place one foot in front of the other.  Both breathe in and out at the same rate.  Both stop when tired.  Both go forward when rested.  But what a difference!  The ego-climber is like an instrument that’s out of adjustment.  He puts his foot down an instant too soon or too late.  He’s likely to miss a beautiful passage of sunlight through the trees.  He goes on when the sloppiness of his step shows he’s tired.  He rests at odd times.  He looks up the trail trying to see what’s ahead even when he knows what’s ahead because he just looked a second before.  He goes too fast or too slow for the conditions and when he talks his talk is forever about somewhere else, something else.  He’s here but he’s not here.  He rejects the here, is unhappy with it, wants to be farther up the trail but when he gets there will be just as unhappy because then the it will be ‘here’.  What he is looking for, what he wants, is all around him; but he doesn’t want that because it is all around him.   Every step’s an effort both physically and spiritually because he imagines his goal to be external and distant.”

And then there’s the ancient tale telling the story of a disciple who asked the Holy One where he should look for Enlightenment.  The tale goes something like this:

“Here,” the Holy One answered.

“When will it happen?”

“It’s happening right now,” the Holy One replied.

“Then why don’t I experience it?” asked the disciple.

“Because you do not look.”

“What should I look for?”

“Nothing,” the Holy One said. “Just look.”

“At what?” 

“Anything your eyes alight upon,” the Holy One said.

“Must I look in a special kind of way?”

“No,” said the Holy One. “The ordinary way will do.”

“But don’t I always look the ordinary way?”

“No,” the Holy One said. “You don’t.”

“Why ever not?” the disciple demanded.

“Because to look you must be here,” the Holy One said.  “You’re mostly somewhere else.”