The Art of Zen
“I've been meditating for years, but lately I've struggled deeply with acceptance. What can I do? I need to get to a place of emotion that will bring me peace. How can I get my emotions back on track?”
Dear one, these words show a struggle if you’ll open to it. It is not just the struggle of a bad feeling. It is the struggle of thinking you should feel otherwise. It is the struggle of trying so hard not to feel what is there.
Do not think that the sun should be up when it is down. Do not think that the ocean should be still and never wave. Sometimes, we fall into the trap of thinking we’re ‘spiritual’ or ‘meditative’ so these realities should be removed from us. Sometimes we think, since we ‘have’ the truth, that outwardly suns should set and winters should come, but that they should never cast inward shadows.
This is not the case. People can write that it is. I’ve read many teachings that say it. They are beautiful. But an author’s life is more than his words. If I am an electrician and I write books about how to be a good electrician I’ll write many great things about electrical work. People will think I am the best. And if my intentions are pure, I’ll share the truth of the best way to be an electrician—all the tricks, tips and insights. But I’ll probably leave out all the times I screw up.
What I’m saying is begin making room for more in your reality than positive feelings.
The Art of Zen
A zen monk has written, ‘Peaceful is life away from the village. Free from all worldly matters. Then why do I shed these tears?’
Tears are part of the human experience—zen or no zen. This poem reminds us. But there is a deeper meaning in it also. There is a truth behind the curtain. With zen, there always is. And that truth hiding here is the same as in every zen teaching. There’s only one truth, one message that zen ever gives, it’s the entire mission statement, the entire brand; open your minds, drop the scripts.
We read a couple of books, we have a couple of ideas. We think we ‘know’ zen. And zen monks shouldn’t cry. This is a script.
You think you are spiritual and spiritual people never feel down—this is a script.
You think a zen monk and a ‘spiritual’ person does this but not something else. You think that being awareness, being consciousness—being vast and timeless—means you no longer have space for bad feelings.
This isn’t zen or spirituality. It isn’t truth. This is a mental idol, an ideology. It keeps you enslaved. This is knowledge. Zen is the art of throwing out knowledge. Throwing out knowledge so you can begin being you, regardless of who you are. So you can begin being the moment, regardless of what form it takes. If laughter is there, to be the laughter. To give yourself over fully. If tears are there, to do the same.
Begin dropping the script. Because the script has created a conflict. If we believe that we are spiritual and that spiritual people don't feel down, then we’re divided. Either you are not spiritual or spiritual people do feel down. You’ve got to give up one idea, one script. Why not both?
That is the point of zen, of spirituality—drop the script. And begin to drop always trying for something—trying to feel something different, trying to think and be someone else. Drop thinking this moment your heart should be giving rise to something else. This is rejecting yourself. This is the struggle.
You are feeling a certain way right now. Bodies do this. Minds do this. Begin feeling that it shouldn’t be otherwise. Perhaps see that in reality, there is nothing you can do to feel differently anyway. You are feeling what you are feeling. It is happening. Begin seeing it would be unnatural for it to be different and open to what is. What might it be like to open the doors and be a house for the sun and the rain? What might it be like to throw open the windows so wide you are big enough to make room for all experience?
If you allow this message to enter you, already you might begin sweetening. That is the quality of really seeing the truth, of opening to it—naturally, we sweeten in the moment it meets us. It doesn’t mean we never taste bitterness again. Our taste buds are still capable. So are our hearts. But whenever we are nearest in our encounter with the truth—which is usually when it sneaks up on us in unexpected ways—sweetness finds us.
Start allowing yourself this sweetness, this gift. The gift of being free of a script and of feeling what is there. Perhaps the sweetness soon will fade. Perhaps it won’t last last till the evening. But you will at least have begun laying the groundwork for peace to find you tomorrow.
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