How much effort is justified, to keep up-to-date?
If something was worth an effort once, does that mean it is worth continued efforts in perpetuity (or thereabouts)? Sometimes yes, especially if the actual value lies in the attention we give—in the doing itself.
Frequently no.
Sometimes, you may come across a quote attributed to a particular individual, but when you try to track down exactly where the individual said or wrote the comment, all you find are sites giving you the runaround. Multiple sites may attribute the quote to the individual without specifying which book or speech or poem contains those words. It may be disappointing, but more often than not, that no one seems to know where it came from indicates the quote was misattributed.
Other times, it doesn’t matter, or it may even provide a moment of joy to fail to find a source to hold onto. Borges enjoyed inventing imaginary sources, for example.
In a book I once owned about designing one’s way forward in life, one of the early pages featured a delightful quote. Online, I eventually found a mention of a source (“Shu-an’s preface to Wu-men’s Gateless Gate to Zen Experience“), but there the trail ran out for me. No matter:
“When one happens on a book of this kind, he is well advised to throw it away”
– Shū-an
Where we have a blind spot, our perception fails us, and our imagination or habit dutifully fills in gaps.
Sometimes, a friend points out what we have not been seeing, and we can learn to look and see differently. But this won’t work, if listening is another one of our blind spots.
When everything is off-kilter, with too much going on (cf. troppo), we don’t want to just manage the conflicting and excessive forces; we want to change the situation. We’d rather be on the wave than managing our intake of sand and saltwater.
Once upright, it’s lots of little adjustments that keep up upright, whether we’re standing or surfing (or unicycling). The balance we seek in our lives is not something to be achieved, but something we want an opportunity to do.
Once we’re up, balance is a verb, not a noun.
We generally celebrate New Year’s on January 1st, but couldn’t any day be thought of as marking the beginning of a year? Considering each day as an opportunity to mindfully begin anew might be a pretty good definition of having a practice.
try
should
stuck
tired
push
frustrating
why?
make
force
unheard
…
is
breathing
moment
whisper
together
listen
let
“Thinking about what it would be like” is one place we exercise our imagination, but it is a very different place from “doing.” As precise as our imagination may be, doing will always be essentially a different thing than thinking about.
It is not a well-formed question to ask which is more appropriate, “thinking about” or “doing,” but it may be worth noting that when doing either one, the other feels remote, inaccessible.
Much thinking is a form of planning, relying heavily on “if” and “then.” We sometimes feel comforted by the apparent validity of our reasoning.
But when what seemed to be an if/then situation turns out not to be one (i.e. we were wrong), or when the real world’s imagination exceeds what ours was when we listed the ifs to consider, we are reminded of our limitations.
Even when we try to include a catchall or backup if (such as “If I’m wrong, then …”), we will frequently be surprised.
When something is broken, it may not be worth going to great lengths to avoid further damage.
If the glass is broken, that is the truth of it: the glass is broken.
Maybe it’s worth trying to break it further. Maybe it will melt.
It is possible to talk at great length about the value of brevity.
It is not that we don’t go away; it’s that we return. But things change in the meantime, and so returning is different from repeating. That’s the idea, anyhow. Back from our recent travels, it is time to see what this year will bring!
Here is a favorite quotation of mine, which I first came across fifteen years ago:
“When one happens on a book of this kind,
he is well advised to throw it away.”
– Shu-an
What inspired these words? Over a period of years, I occasionally looked to see if I could find the source of the quotation, or who Shu-an was. All I found were references to the book I already had and rabbit hole-like trails with impenetrable histories of centuries-old Zen schools.
While thinking the other day about untraceable quotations, I looked again, this time finding the context for the quotation with no effort at all.
In Laughing Buddha: Zen and the Comic Spirit, I learn that Shu-an wrote these words in his preface to Wu-men’s 13th century compilation of Zen koans, Gateless Gate to Zen Experience. And I am reminded how resonant a simple question can be.
I know there are times when it takes “just a little bit more” to succeed. I think of finishing a degree program, a race, or a project.
Then there are other times when any “pushing” is counterproductive. This seems to be the case with a person wanting to start a relationship with another, with thinking, and with art.
Listening is the key to so many delights: learning, seeing, experiencing. So many ills stem from too little listening: the insecurity that makes people petty and warlike, catastrophes that could otherwise have been averted, the smaller tragedies of experiences missed because we were not entirely there.
Too much “listening” is also problematic. I mean here the passive listening of the student who thinks the professor has all the information, all the answers. The student’s mind is not in the classroom so it may be filled; it is in the company of other minds so it may engage, so it may participate in the play of information, of answers, of questions.
When I was in college, I learned how to fly. My primary flight instructor was Iris Critchell, a truly inspiring teacher. Iris had flown as a WASP in the ’40s; before that, in 1936, she swam in the Berlin Summer Olympics. I remember Iris talking about the spirit of camaraderie at the olympics. Everyone there felt honored to be able to compete, to share in the exploration and celebration of what individuals and people working together can achieve. Winning, or coming in second or third, medals – these were exciting but not central. Those who did not win but who participated were proud and felt lucky to be part of the immense endeavor.
We can listen to those who participate and be enriched. Listening solely to those who win arguments doesn’t guarantee nearly as much.