A few days ago I started again, getting out the whetstone and attempting to sharpen my practice. I started a two month period of giving up facebook and recorded music, to feel what comes up for me when I stop up those leaks of vital energy. I'm also off of all added sugar for the rest of the 2013 - sugar, cane sugar, evaporated cane juice, honey, stevia, agave, maple syrup, turbinado sugar, etc etc... Were there even this many types of sugar when we were kids? It now seems like an industry mainly targeted at convincing me that whatever sugar I'm eating is okay because it has a longer fancy-pants name.
Some people have asked me what I'm aiming for in these experiments, especially the eschewing of recorded music. For me, it's important to pay attention when I get a whiff of an addiction. To claim that I really see my addictions clearly is way too boastful, as I consider them to be blind spots. But sometimes I get a faint scent on the wind, and if I'm lucky I can muster the courage to undertake further inquiry. For sugar, it comes up pretty often. I notice that I've been eating several cookies at the monastery on Sundays, I've been adding more honey to my coffee each day, or I'm eating more dark chocolate with the rationalization that "cocoa is healthy" but in fact I'm craving the sweet side of it more than anything. I've abstained from sugar before for up to six months, and I can now draw up upon those experiments. I can recall how good I feel getting clean of it, and how it becomes easier day by day so that within a week or two I don't miss it at all.
The recorded music fast is something new. I've bounced it around in my head ever since my friend Peter told me years ago about a friend of his who did it. That memory has stuck with me and has fascinated me for a decade. Coupled with that, I've really begun in the past year to notice how strong of a drug music is for me. (I don't think it's a coincidence that this awareness has come at the same time that I spend a large amount of life sitting quietly, listening to the stream nearby, and hiking alone in the woods). I can and do use music, especially the music that I've collected over the years, to manipulate my moods. I can search through thousands of songs to find just the right one to nurture a feeling of elation or sadness, to counteract my loneliness, to wallow in self-pity, or really anything else I can imagine. Having an alienated psychedelic morning? Radiohead. Road trip through the winding hills to pick blueberries? A Bob Dylan rambling ballad is always reliable. Angry about social injustice? Joe Pug (if you don't know him, check him out).
The insidious thing about using the music drug is that I am really trying to keep control. I am attached to a mood and don't want it to stop. Or, I'm not okay with my present feeling (usually sadness or existential boredom) and I want to literally combat it. I want to manipulate my feelings rather than just be with them, learn to see them clearly, and let them pass (which they always, always, always do, despite what my little hamster-wheel mind tries to convince me of). They come and they go. But with music, I have such strong feelings associated with certain songs that I try to use them to control my emotional landscape. Sometimes it's even my trying to lose myself in the music - to go ignorant and dull (even through high-energy music) rather than turn around and face my present feeling with curiosity and an open heart.
This attempt at control rests on inherently shaky ground, however. I notice that I'll sit in the car for a minute or two or three or four looking for just the right song to start my drive to work that morning. I'll come home and spend minutes looking for just the right iPod mood to make dinner to. In this searching, there is a feeling that I'll find just the right music, and that it will somehow make my mood okay. If I don't find "just the right music" in an "acceptable" amount of time, I notice that I begin to get frustrated with myself. I start thinking about how I should clean out my music collection, or wondering why I accumulate all this music that really isn't "doing anything for me." I think about how I should be more decisive, or how I should be willing to accept what comes along and just get on with my day. Next thing I know, I'm immersed in a land of Shoulds, Clinging to Control, and Feeling Bad about Myself. Sound familiar?
This experiment is about attempting to let go of control, and paying attention to what happens. Already in the three mornings without music, I've noticed a slight agitation in myself when driving to work. What is that? A vague feeling in my chest or in my gut. I might label it frustration, but what is it if I don't buy into a label and just feel it? Is there more depth or color to it? How does it feel to call it Anxiety about Being with Myself Just As I Am? Do I feel any truth in that sentiment? If so, what then? Do I respond by escaping elsewhere - rich food (oh no! I'm off sugar! well, bacon then...)? facebook (cut-off again by my own @#&! experiments)? An actual book? A run? Making art? Call a friend? Can I just be with it for a minute, make friends with it, invite that feeling in for a cup of earl grey and catch up on old times?
There is nothing inherently good or bad about any of these responses, as far as I can tell. What I attempt to notice, though, is the feeling that I'm attaching to and turning into a solid idea of How Things Are. I have some sort of feeling in my gut, and the next thing I know I've labeled it firmly and laid out a path of necessary action. These experiments in abstention are a way for me to back up a little bit in this cycle of sensation, feeling, labeling, and acting. It takes a lot of practice to just be with these sensations and not get lost in the reactions of my mind. Each time I do, though, I get a little bit of space, a little breathing room, a little freedom. Not freedom from having sensations keep coming up in me, but a little freedom to be less reactive. There's some secret here that my teachers point to, that my favorite authors point to, and that my own experience points to. I can't quite grasp it with my mind, but I think that's part of the point.
So, how do you want to turn the wheel of your life? Where is the knife edge of practice that you want to dance along? Where do you get a hint of something that you want to pay close attention to? How will you go about doing that? I have nothing to offer but inspiration, and only that if you feel inspired by all these ramblings. But know that I draw inspiration and strength from you, my community of friends and fellow practitioners of all things good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. Thanks for reading, and may your practice be strong.
2 comments:
Ah, music and dance. I think 2 manifestations of life at its best. When we create them, we can channel life. Resonating with my mandolin allows me to be very present. Of course, practicing, being frustrated are not such "ONE" experiences but part of the path.
Zen vs Sufi - I think they all lead to the same place.
To love sugar and salt is to be Homo sapiens. Having them overly available with no work attached is the deadly road.
So glad for your thoughts. They keep mine going.
Thanks so much for these thoughts. They articulate something I've been trying to work on, too. My "escape from the present moment" medications have lately been black tea with ginger and honey (bought from an overpriced tea cafe) and jumping on the internet to get a hit of outrage at the news or social warm fuzzies if someone has replied to or reviewed something I've put online. Not so bad in the scheme of things -- not like its heroin -- but it does prevent me from just being present. And I allow the internet to interfere with my meditation practice, and I know that decreases my freedom and satisfaction.
I wonder though, sometimes, what all this openness is about, and why it's so hard. Why we're poked and prodded by some inner voice when we're stuffing ourselves with bread and facebook that This Isn't Right, yet another warring voice within us pokes us like a hot poker saying, "For God's sake, don't just sit here! You're wasting time, and if you really let go too much, you'll die!"
I've begun lately to think of my true or inner self as an indigenous people who doesn't have the sophisticated technology of the occupying ego, but who belongs in this land just as much if not more. The occupier tells the indigenous people that they are worthless and destined to be conquered, so they may as well give up. If they keep resisting, everyone will be destroyed. They will never be able to govern themselves, much less the occupier as well.
Thinking in those terms seems to open up a little space in my being. The ego is so ignorant, and I don't have to believe it.
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