Zen-doh
Stop the noise. Stop the traffic, pollution n congestion. Stop the incessant buzzing, the constant chatter. Gotta do this, gotta do that. And when I have nothing to do, I gotta make something up.
Ever try to sprint for one month straight? A gear is bound to grind. A piston will surely seize. Gotta throw it in park, friends.
I went to an NYC zendo yesterday for a 30 minute meditative retreat. Wanted to let the mind go, slow down, relax. Ahhh. A friend of mine works the bell there. She rings it at the start of a meditation and rings it again to end it. She invited me to join her.
Noise alone makes Manhattan the most impractical place on Earth for a Zen monestary. But people can be quite inventive around here. This one was on the 9th floor of a SoHo office building. You walk down an unfancy corridor seeing logos for architecture firms, law firms, design firms and when you see a color xerox of Buddah, you’ve arrived.
It’s amazing what a door can do. Once you walk inside, you are transported to somewhere in Southeast Asia. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s a little strange. Cushy mats line each side of a giant room. You are instructed to bow when you enter the meditation area (I’m sure there’s a term for this area, but I don’t know it), then you bow to your cushion and bow again toward the center of the room. Bow wow wow.
Then you get in a comfortable position (facing the wall) and let go for 30 minutes. Not moving, just breathing and sitting. And sitting and breathing.
During that time you’ll think about everything, you’ll realize how noisy your noggin is. You’ll notice how tense your shoulders are. You’ll concentrate on relaxing which does the opposite for your poor shoulders. You’ll tell the little voices to go to sleep, but they’ll just keep getting louder. You'll do this for the first 15 minutes.
Then your leg will start to tingle because your jeans are cutting off the blood supply. But you don’t want to move, because you’ll be disturbing a sacred moment for others. You’ll ignore the leg, which by now burning and yearning for oxygen. You’ll take a deep breath, reassuring yourself that it takes a solid 3 hours of oxygen deprivation before amputation is even considered. Deep breath.
You'll be feeling better by now. 7 minutes left. Just relax.
Oh, no. Now the poor sucker is numb. You’ll realize that your leg is a dead piece of flesh hanging off your torso. How will you walk out of this joint? You’ll realize you’ll have to shift your weight a little, just to give the capillaries a shot of oxygen. Ahh, that’s better. But the pins and neeedles are stabbing stabbing. The pain! It's unbearable!
A cold sweat breaks out. Breathe! Breathe! For the love of Buddah breathe!
Bong. Bong. Bong.
Bell rung. Meditation over.
I feel so much better now.
Ever try to sprint for one month straight? A gear is bound to grind. A piston will surely seize. Gotta throw it in park, friends.
I went to an NYC zendo yesterday for a 30 minute meditative retreat. Wanted to let the mind go, slow down, relax. Ahhh. A friend of mine works the bell there. She rings it at the start of a meditation and rings it again to end it. She invited me to join her.
Noise alone makes Manhattan the most impractical place on Earth for a Zen monestary. But people can be quite inventive around here. This one was on the 9th floor of a SoHo office building. You walk down an unfancy corridor seeing logos for architecture firms, law firms, design firms and when you see a color xerox of Buddah, you’ve arrived.
It’s amazing what a door can do. Once you walk inside, you are transported to somewhere in Southeast Asia. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s a little strange. Cushy mats line each side of a giant room. You are instructed to bow when you enter the meditation area (I’m sure there’s a term for this area, but I don’t know it), then you bow to your cushion and bow again toward the center of the room. Bow wow wow.
Then you get in a comfortable position (facing the wall) and let go for 30 minutes. Not moving, just breathing and sitting. And sitting and breathing.
During that time you’ll think about everything, you’ll realize how noisy your noggin is. You’ll notice how tense your shoulders are. You’ll concentrate on relaxing which does the opposite for your poor shoulders. You’ll tell the little voices to go to sleep, but they’ll just keep getting louder. You'll do this for the first 15 minutes.
Then your leg will start to tingle because your jeans are cutting off the blood supply. But you don’t want to move, because you’ll be disturbing a sacred moment for others. You’ll ignore the leg, which by now burning and yearning for oxygen. You’ll take a deep breath, reassuring yourself that it takes a solid 3 hours of oxygen deprivation before amputation is even considered. Deep breath.
You'll be feeling better by now. 7 minutes left. Just relax.
Oh, no. Now the poor sucker is numb. You’ll realize that your leg is a dead piece of flesh hanging off your torso. How will you walk out of this joint? You’ll realize you’ll have to shift your weight a little, just to give the capillaries a shot of oxygen. Ahh, that’s better. But the pins and neeedles are stabbing stabbing. The pain! It's unbearable!
A cold sweat breaks out. Breathe! Breathe! For the love of Buddah breathe!
Bong. Bong. Bong.
Bell rung. Meditation over.
I feel so much better now.
posted by Greg Monaco at 12:13 PM
1 Comments:
Om.
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