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Sitting in Zen
Jul. 10th, 2006 03:47 pmI instructed D that she can go any where along the creek as long as she stays within earshot. She could play along the banks of this beautiful stream that runs along the southern corner of Pops, semi-supervised to chase fish, catch frogs and crayfish, so long as they are returned unharmed and she keeps her shoes on. I told her that I was going to practice sitting still for as long as I could, but that she is welcome to disturb me at any time as long as it's important. There is nothing in the creek but rocks, nothing hovering around but the canopy above, no one else. She asks why I would want to practice sitting still, and I tell her it's so that I can learn to listen better, because to me this is the most beautiful and peaceful place that I have access to and moments like these seem to be increasingly rare - There is no time like the present.
She says to me that she's going to do the same but it only keeps her interest for a couple of minutes before I hear her gathering water in a juice bottle we brought from the house, and then pour it back into the creek. For me it seems to take almost no time at all for the physical body to dissolve into my surroundings, I become completely 'invisible' except for where I make contact with the flat rock I set up to sit on, or where a cool breeze blows across my skin causing it to glow in my periphery as if the interference pattern I create is the only solidity I have left. My mind wanders downstream with the brook as it gurgles and flows between thousands of stones, I bring it gently but firmly back to my place on the bank. D's a few feet away from me tipping small stones over in the stream with a stick. I return to my practice. My mind travels with the wind through the tree tops along the sonic striations of the breeze brushing the surfaces of millions of leaves against each other, until it blends into the fusion of the distant sound of billions of leaves, and I bring my focus back to my place on the bank. I can hear hundreds of creatures foraging in the herb layer of the trees that buffer the stream around me and it is as if I'm connected to them or that they are direct projections from my perception, all the distinctions between them and I melt and seep into the creek with the ground water and flow downstream. The sensation is still indescribable, only to experiencing this quality first hand will ever come close to conveying the unshakable peace of now.
I have been sitting here since time stopped, I have no idea how long, only that the position of the shadows of the trees have shifted a few degrees to the northeast and I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder; D informs me that she needs to go to the bathroom. I give her the option of going back up to house with me or I can find her a bush with no poison ivy around it to take care of business - she opts for the bush. When she returns I thank her for the time she's given me to 'practice sitting still' or zazen, as it's known. 'It's cool', she says. She likes exploring the creek bottom, and we agree that this is the neatest place either of us have been. I ask her if she ever gives her mommy the time to sit in zen. She gives me a look like this is the dumbest question I've ever asked . . .
"No, dad . . . we have a T.V."
She says to me that she's going to do the same but it only keeps her interest for a couple of minutes before I hear her gathering water in a juice bottle we brought from the house, and then pour it back into the creek. For me it seems to take almost no time at all for the physical body to dissolve into my surroundings, I become completely 'invisible' except for where I make contact with the flat rock I set up to sit on, or where a cool breeze blows across my skin causing it to glow in my periphery as if the interference pattern I create is the only solidity I have left. My mind wanders downstream with the brook as it gurgles and flows between thousands of stones, I bring it gently but firmly back to my place on the bank. D's a few feet away from me tipping small stones over in the stream with a stick. I return to my practice. My mind travels with the wind through the tree tops along the sonic striations of the breeze brushing the surfaces of millions of leaves against each other, until it blends into the fusion of the distant sound of billions of leaves, and I bring my focus back to my place on the bank. I can hear hundreds of creatures foraging in the herb layer of the trees that buffer the stream around me and it is as if I'm connected to them or that they are direct projections from my perception, all the distinctions between them and I melt and seep into the creek with the ground water and flow downstream. The sensation is still indescribable, only to experiencing this quality first hand will ever come close to conveying the unshakable peace of now.
I have been sitting here since time stopped, I have no idea how long, only that the position of the shadows of the trees have shifted a few degrees to the northeast and I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder; D informs me that she needs to go to the bathroom. I give her the option of going back up to house with me or I can find her a bush with no poison ivy around it to take care of business - she opts for the bush. When she returns I thank her for the time she's given me to 'practice sitting still' or zazen, as it's known. 'It's cool', she says. She likes exploring the creek bottom, and we agree that this is the neatest place either of us have been. I ask her if she ever gives her mommy the time to sit in zen. She gives me a look like this is the dumbest question I've ever asked . . .
"No, dad . . . we have a T.V."
