So Many Teachers

At this point in my life I find myself with formal teachers in three aspects of my life. To count them I have two sensei and a handful of chefs.

In my culinary education, I have attended three schools. The first I don't really count because I didn't really come away with anything and it was just a stepping stone into seriousness. But between the latter two, I have had a dozen very gifted chefs as instructors. Each of them has dedicated their lives to the craft and business of food. Furthermore they have dedicated their lives to passing on that knowledge to the next generation of culinarians.

While I still find myself wavering in my dedication to the art, I would like to follow in their footsteps. I have learned so much with so much generosity, but unfortunately I don't have the desire to use it in the manner that it was intended, in restaurant kitchens.

For a little over a year of practicing Aikido, I have had a teacher to guide me in not just a physical practice, but in a spiritual way to help me deal with life's obstacles by confronting them with single mindedness and courage. Her long-held dedication to the art is apparent in the ease and joy she combines with the strict seriousness of each lesson. Sticking exclusively to either one would not only be against the spirit of the art, but remove the dynamic nature that is needed to perpetuate the desire to learn throughout life.

Somehow she has been able to juggle several interests while maintaining this dedication, showing that it is possible to be so committed to one thing but still live a well rounded life. She has served as both a role-model and mentor.

And recently I have acquired a Zen teacher to guide me in my spiritual practice, to help me deal with life's obstacles with acceptance and compassion. This provides the yin to the yang of my Aikido.

While I have yet to get to know her well, just in my interactions on both a group and individual level, it easy to see that she has something special. Her dedication is easy to see in the joy she expresses interacting with others and in the intensity and openness with which she listens. I look forward to deepening this relationship as well.

In these three avenues, knowledge and wisdom has been passed to me with such generosity, that I really want to share it. I am seriously exploring the possibility of teaching culinary arts formally whether professionally in a class room or as a side job teaching individuals how to cook for themselves at home. As a "veteran" student I have had the joy of sharing many tricks with fresher students and even a couple with my teachers.

I am approaching the opportunity to teach Aikido in the setting of private lessons. While I have learned so much to share, I realize I still have so much to learn. But I have also realized how much there is to learn more about what I know in sharing it with others. I had often fantasized about what it would be like to teach Aikido as an instructor and though it's still a fantasy some of it may be realized some day. Until then I share what I can graciously, and hope I provide more understanding than confusion.

Although I only recently began my Zen practice, I do have almost ten years worth of learning about it that must be processed through the lens of practice. Formally teaching is even further than a fantasy for that, but I would like to think that what I share of my experiences helps others in some way.

In sharing what I've learned in return for such dedication, I am doing my best to live the vow of the eighth Grave Precept as I see it: to give generously whatever I can provide. This concept has always featured prominently in my life so I am happy to have found an ideology that embraces it.

In all of this, I must not forget that learning comes from so many other places than just those with titles. While I treasure the teachers I mention above, every interaction with others is the opportunity to learn from them, to internalize their own life experiences. My practice also reminds me of the opportunity to teach myself with each situation I end up in. I must remain mindful that the dharma gates are boundless and that I vow to enter them.

How is Zazen like Scuba Diving?

Because it can take you deep! No no no.. but seriously.

Several years ago, my girlfriend and I got our Open Water Scuba certification. We haven't used it, regrettably, but thinking about it today inspired some thoughts.

In some ways Scuba diving is like zazen. For one thing you have to remember to breathe. In both, breathing normally will make you relax and more comfortable. When Scuba diving, breathing is very important since the volume of air in your lungs will make them expand like balloons as you ascend since the pressure decreases. The worst that can happen if you forget to breathe in zazen is lightheadedness and maybe loss of consciousness.

You also practice in a controlled setting like a pool before being let loose in the wild. Sitting in the controlled setting of a cushion prepares us for what awaits us in the world.

Most people who haven't Scuba dived don't appreciate the beauty of what you're actually doing when you suit up. You are basically strapping a submarine to yourself, but it's more than that. In a normal submarine, you're just a passenger, even if you manipulate the controls, physically you're just a passenger. When you put on your tank, regulator, and buoyancy control device/vest (BC, that vest thing you wear) you are becoming a cyborg.

I don't mean in some romantic sci-fi way, but in a technical way as a mixture of organic and technological. In a submarine, you have levers and switches to control depth by flooding and evacuating ballast tanks. When you Scuba dive, the BC is the primary ballast tank, but your lungs are full of air as well. Anyone that's ever sat in water that covered their chest has experienced this; you breathe in and you float up, exhale and you sink.

When you dive you aim for neutral buoyancy, neither sinking nor floating. (hey, look! a middle way) Because the volume of a mass of air decreases with the added pressure of progressive depths, you can't just set your buoyancy at the top and leave it, it requires constant adjustments. When you're in forty feet of water and not on the bottom, unknowingly doing either is pretty easy and can cause big safety issues. When you're swimming along the bottom, it can make diving unpleasant for you and everyone around since bumping or brushing a muddy or sandy bottom will stir up visually impenetrable clouds. For people with large lung capacities, this can be such an issue that a special Precision Buoyancy certification class is offered.

I experienced this first hand and thought I had it under control. When we were in the pool at the dive center, we were made aware of the effect breathing had on our buoyancy and were told how we can use it to make fine adjustments without adding or letting air out of our BC. Inhale a deeper breath than you exhale, you'll go up a bit. Exhale more than you inhale and down you go.

Unfortunately when we got out in the real water, the excitement of the situation overran my control. In the muddy water of the lake, you could barely see ten feet in front of you and make out detail at about five. Being neutrally buoyant is like being weightless, you can't feel which direction gravity is pulling you. (why they use Scuba diving to train astronauts for space walks) When you don't have a horizon, bottom, or surface as references all you see around you is a brown void of muddy water. Other than your depth gauge you have no way to tell where you are.

In my excitement, I lost control of my breath-based buoyancy and it caused frustration that distracted me from the wonder of the experience.

This leads me into what really inspired this connection. I had been sitting for twenty minutes everyday but I've been pushing for thirty so the difference in time between what I sit at home and at the Zen Center isn't so great. I had to work my way up to twenty minutes just as everyone should; sitting silently and still with yourself for that long is difficult without experience and discipline. Telling my teacher this, she urged me towards the thirty minutes putting into words some of the observations I'd made. Sitting for twenty minutes is just enough time for the mind to calm down, to get any sort of real benefit those extra ten minutes are needed. It's like putting a baby down for nap, letting them cry themselves to sleep only to get them up just as they pass out.

In the case of my Scuba example above, I didn't have enough time to get comfortable in my new and strange "body" to calm down enough to enjoy the environment it allowed me to exist in. As soon as I was beginning to, it was time to get out.

Usually when someone goes on a Scuba trip, there are several dives over the course of a few days. This would allow them to really get comfortable with their bodies and the environment so that after the first couple dives they would just slip into the experience as if it were natural.

I've heard when someone goes on a Zen retreat, after the first couple sessions, calming the mind becomes easier each time you sit. I could see how this is probable for the above reason.

When I sit in the morning, my mind isn't really awake yet so it hasn't had time to fill up with the days thoughts and worries. At the end of the day it's harder for me to sit since my head is full of all that stuff. On the other hand, sitting clears it all out for sleeping.

Conclusion:

• Scuba diving: fun outdoors in the sun with interesting people, visiting exotic places and seeing exotic creatures in their natural habitat, kind of expensive
• Zazen: sitting with yourself uncomfortably on a cushion staring at a wall experienced indoors in a dimly lit room where the wildlife outside is no more than an annoyance, it's free

But yes, they can both take you deep...

Dokusan

I had my first dokusan this morning, which you may or may not know is a formal discussion about your practice with your teacher. While that was pretty much about all it was, it was also a lot more.

I've known her now for almost nine months, but today was the first time I'd actually referred to her as "my teacher." It wasn't intentional, it just came out that way. Before it was always by name, or as "the teacher" or "the head teacher", but I guess the intimacy of this meeting changed that.

This wasn't the first time I'd discussed my practice with her so in a way it was comfortable, but the formality combined with the full attention of someone so experienced was intimidating. It was a very powerful lesson to feel myself as the focus of concentrated attention. In a way I could grasp onto the thought that if I practice longer, I too could posses such focus. But to do so would be to stop the mind and fixate on a goal. Instead I find it comforting to just know that it is possible to cultivate. If it happens, it happens.

For now, my practice comes fairly easy. I told her it's become a habit so the hardest part of just doing it is past me. From my experience with Aikido, I know that there may be plateaus in my progress, but my attitude is to accept them, to push through them. Practice is ongoing, I should enjoy the plateaus just as I should enjoy the easy spots for being comfortable and hard spots for what they can teach me. This caused me great difficulty when I tried to define what I considered ups and downs in my practice.

It was a little strange discussing my practice so openly since I usually try not to gush about it to other people who may or may not be interested and/or understand. After I'd left, I realized things I'd wanted to bring up or how I could have articulated something better. There'll be other times though.

I find the most difficult aspect of discussing practice is avoiding dualistic speech, judging and desires for its path. As these things came out, I knew what I was saying. Normally when I make some mistake similar to this and it's pointed out, I feel like I'm being told something I already know. Somehow when she pointed these things out, I still learned something else, something about how I perceived it.

All around it was a very pleasant experience. Sitting has had an observable impact on my life after such a short time. I'm happy to formally have a teacher and enjoy being a member of the sangha. It's nice to have a mirror that functions as both something to reflect what ideas you send out but also reflects similarities as well as setting examples of where practice can lead you.

Why sit?

I've found myself proposing/defending/explaining why I sit often this last week. Since this is another one of those grab bag ideas I've had for a blog post for a while, why not go into it?

Do I sit because I want to be enlightened, see my true nature? Maybe I want to be a better person, develop discipline, focus and patience? Do I need an excuse to improve my posture? What about just wanting to do an activity to fit in with a crowd I'd like to hang with?

Honestly, I can't really deny any of these. But are they causes or effects of my practice?

Let's start with the last and most shallow reason. I've always been a bit of a loner. The majority of my interests and opinions have generally not been mainstream. While it can be painful to sit on the sidelines for having different views, it's something I've more or less accepted. I'd rather be myself than try to lower my standards. But when I find a group there's no reason not to join. I certainly didn't start sitting to join a group, it's not a group activity. It's something I now have in common with them. Yes, if I stopped I would be missing the part that's most important and I wouldn't really fit in, but that's not why I do it.

My posture used to be awful, so this was actually a reason I began sitting. This was one of the real reasons I went to the Zen Center in the first place. A book can tell you what to think and how to sit, but it can't observe and give feedback or adjustments. I got neither of these things, but I did get encouragement. My poor posture was mostly due to weakness in certain muscle groups. Forcing myself to sit upright for twenty minutes a day strengthened these muscles. Now my posture is better, which in turn has improved my technique in Aikido, a physical benefit that I have pointed out to beginning students when they ask me if I meditate like we've been urged to do. My hips are also very tight, making it difficult for me sit appropriately. This has given me a further excuse to stretch those muscles which will also benefit me in Aikido.

Now a little deeper. Better person? Discipline? Focus? Patience? No one is without these desires. Have I noticed improvement? Yes. I didn't come to the table wanting these things, though. I've already mentioned in previous posts my issues with discipline and a little about patience. I've also mentioned how it's helped me improve my life. Focus, though. That's something I haven't really mentioned.

Since I was very young, I've had attention issues. I was diagnosed with ADD before it was cool and had graduated beyond Ritalin before it earned the reputation it has with the kids on the street. I'd taken uppers and anti-depressants. Tried therapy. They all had their benefits, but they didn't fix anything in the long run. We were grasping at straws and nothing seemed to hold. I was always able to focus on things I enjoyed doing, often more than was healthy, but became easily sidetracked when doing something not so pleasant. Since high school, I've fought against medication mostly due to adverse side effects. I really didn't like how the stimulants made my mind race.

When I began Aikido for the second time, after high school, I had my intense focus pointed out to me in a way that struck something inside. I became aware of what really happened, being in the moment. While I was unequipped at the time to harness this, it laid the foundation for what was to come. Paying attention to what my body was doing also sprouted mindfulness.

The mindfulness to see that I was sidetracked was there but weak, or I didn't know what to do with it. The discipline was lacking and until I had that the mindfulness did nothing but breed guilt and regret. Developing the habit of sitting I mentioned in my first post is what has helped there.

So then, what about enlightenment and all that. We're supposed to sit without thoughts of gaining and these can become traps for the mind. Dogen's thoughts on this are that sitting itself is enlightenment. I've had odd experiences since I began sitting that I attribute to my practice, but don't see them any differently than anything else thanks to this advice. Do I expect anything special? Not really. I'll treasure it if it happens, but I'll also try to let it be "scenery on the road of life" as Uchiyama Roshi puts it. It's not why I practice.

So why then, do I practice? A little of all of those reasons may be true. My life has improved since I began sitting. So has my posture. I've also made new friends in a community of positive individuals. I understand the human condition a little better and my perspective on life has changed. I also don't mind getting up so early anymore, sitting in the morning makes me more alert and awake then the extra half hour I'm missing out on.

I enjoy the way my mind calms down when I sit. Now that I think about it. That may be what really brought me to it. When I performed techniques in Aikido, my mind feels clear, the way you want a piece of glass to be clear so you can see what's going on outside. I wanted that in my everyday life. I'd tasted it at times, but I wanted to cultivate it.

This was the need in my life for something I couldn't put my finger on. I just happened to stumble across what I did at the right time and now I am where I am.

In trying to let moments be moments, this is what has happened.

So why sit?

Why not?

August Vow Progress

With only a few days left before the September full moon, I've looked back at how well I did with not wasting food.

I may have missed a couple things, but here's a list of what I ended up throwing away.

• 3 peaches, they were in the fridge shriveling up. I was hoping they'd dehydrate themselves down to something like a date so I wouldn't have to toss them, but in the end they started to get the wrong kind of fuzz.
• 1 serving of the chilled peach and yogurt soup that I made my girlfriend after she had her wisdom teeth out. She didn't really like it and I ran out of stuff to do with it so it just kind of sat there until I got the courage to take the top off and throw it out. I think there was a high enough culture count from the yogurt that it may have still been okay to eat since it didn't smell bad or anything, but I didn't want to take the risk.
• a small bunch of grapes, they were probably on their way out when I made the vow, but whatever.
• a little leftover polenta. We ate as much as we could, but I don't think I cooked it enough so it was a little difficult to eat.

That's not too bad. The only problem I had was I found myself eating more than I probably should have been to keep stuff from going bad. That's alright though, because it gave me inspiration for this next month.

Here's a couple food saving facts if you think something is getting close.

• obviously, you can throw things in the freezer. Just don't forget they're in there.
• hard boiled eggs get easier to peel, the older they are (to a point). Boiling them will give them about another week of opportunities to eat them. also, adding a couple teaspoons of vinegar to the water and shocking them in ice water after they're cooked help make them easier to peel.
• right before milk goes bad, you can use it to make yogurt. You just need a little yogurt and a recipe off the internet and it'll keep a lot longer. Plus you won't have to buy yogurt.