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by Eric Soroker, Bucks County Aikido member, 4th Kyu
Genjo Marinello Osho led the annual sesshin (a period of intensive Zen training) at Bucks County Aikido, October 13-15. The weekend included several hours of weapons training by Robert Savoca Sensei and George Lyons Sensei.
"Oh, how wonderful -- another opportunity to practice." It's been two months since I participated in the sesshin held at Bucks County Aikido, and I hear Genjo's potent words while I'm sitting in my car. Just moments before, my mind was a sea of anger, frustration and a dash of personal distortion. When I had left my home, I was already late for an appointment, and now I was barely crawling along the highway (delayed by some sort of unknown situation). My head felt hot and flushed and I was squirming in my seat. There was a fiery knot of anxiety the size of a cantaloupe stuffed inside my upper chest, and my shoulders were almost touching my ears. That's when I remembered to breathe.
I'm not sure exactly how long I had been holding my breath, and I found my body laboring to take in this next inhalation. My exhale came out as a long sigh. As I took in a second full breath, my shoulders dropped and the cantaloupe of anxiety had shrunk down to the size of a golf ball. That's when I reflected on Genjo's words. In this life we are always practicing, and so you might as well appreciate these opportunities to train (because there are lots of them). Practice awareness. Practice breathing. I missed my appointment, by the way. Oh, how wonderful...
Later that same day, as I sat in a restaurant jotting down some of my thoughts, the waiter walked up and asked me what I was working on. I told him it was some ideas about Zen meditation. He sat down in my booth and told me he was curious about meditation and how it worked. I did my best to describe what it means to me and the benefits I receive from practicing. The waiter then shared with me how these days he is in an almost constant state of anxiety, that his numerous thoughts (often negative) mentally paralyze him and that he wished he could just stop the chatter. Listening to him, I recognized some of my own similar patterns. It seems that the nature of our minds is to run progressively wilder if left unchecked. I told him I hope he would give meditation a try.
The cushion is my laboratory. Zazen provides me with a controlled environment in which I can hone the skills of centering myself, quieting my thoughts and exploring being in the moment. It's a time to focus on my breath and to seek that often-elusive state of being purely present. Like any skill, the more I practice, the more I cultivate my experiences. I can take my cushion's knowledge and can carry this with me into the "real world."
Sesshin takes this training to the next level. The concentrated experience of a sesshin creates and/or adds to the "tension" needed to push us beyond our comfort zone and stretch us a bit. It's through this stretching that we have the opportunity to truly confront ourselves. The form(s) of this "tension" can continually change from sesshin to sesshin (hence the phrase "every sesshin is different") and also moment to moment during the sesshin itself. Each sesshin is tailor-made for the participant. Whether you are aware of it or not, your experience is dictated by what you bring to the party.
Entering this year's sesshin, I was unconsciously on a mission. Recent changes in my personal life had left me raw and exposed, and I was feeling downright ornery. I was looking forward to three days where my only job was to be present. In the back of my mind, I also wanted to suffer. Not emotional suffering (though some of that popped up on its own) but that burning physical pain that has the potential to purify.
You see, I was angry. Angry about things I could not change or accept or let go. I had unconsciously covered up my hurt with a nice thick shell of anger. And when you do that, what you think is your anger is really just a distortion of something else. Armor protects but it keeps the good stuff out also. What I believed about myself would change in a span of hours. By the end of Friday night, I had used up all of my anger's fuel and the shell started to break down. (A well-placed shomenuchi strike from Genjo during dokusan helped accelerate the process.)
That Friday night I did something that I had not done in a long while: I slept deeply. In fact, I was sleeping so deeply on the zendo floor that I needed a friendly wake-up tap Saturday morning (thanks, Betsy). I woke up feeling lighter. There was this nice warmth inside me and a strong sense of both my self and my community.
This is the part where I'd love to say, "My whole life came into focus" and "I just cruised through the rest of the sesshin" and "See how mediation can change your life." But I can't. The truth is, sitting for long periods of time is painful and challenging. There were times when my thoughts were so thick that I have no idea how long I had been running on auto-pilot (Fellini would have been proud). During Saturday's teisho, I did not set myself up solidly on my cushion and experienced the most physical pain I have ever felt while sitting. I even slipped back into some anger for a little while.
And yet, something was different. An integration had taken place. I experienced longer periods of awareness. It was as if the picture got bigger. During one sit, I had an experience where my consciousness was surfing just in the front of the moment. It was like watching a clock and the feeling you get that instant just before the clock's hands move. And I realized that life is one big sesshin.
So where am I now that it's two-plus months out from the sesshin? Well, the cookies don't taste as sweet (though I still notice them). My food's flavor is not as savory (though I still taste it). Hearing a woodpecker does not make me want to burst out into pure uncontrollable laughter and glee (OK, maybe a little). What I feel is connected. Connected to my thoughts and also to everything else. Yeah, I still find myself beating my head on the steering wheel from time to time, but at least now I'm aware that I'm doing it. Oh, how wonderful...
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Posted on: Friday, September 07, 2007 by Bucks County Aikido
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