[Date Prev][Date Next][Thread Prev][Thread Next][Date Index][Thread Index]

Whacks, was Re: [at-l] >Buddhists have nuns too.

>     Zen sticks?
>     To whack you when you fall asleep during meditation?
>     Sounds like a few of the snarly hounds here could use a few good
>     whacks as well.
> Whack! The stick cracked against my back.  It was not unexpected, for I had volunteered to experience the whack. 
> The Zen Leader had asked if there were any in the class who would like to have their backs relieved from tension as we sat for a lesson in Sitting Meditation.  She explained that the hit on the back with the stick was not a punishment but an aid to concentration for sitting still, often caused the muscles to tense up and become painful.  The whack on the back released the tension and brought relief.  So I had volunteered. 

Also good for bringing one back to the business at hand, when one is 
observed to be wandering mentally. After, some bow to the stick master 
(there is a formal name for it). Out of gratitude for the reminder, as 
it were.

Then there are the "crazy wisdom" masters (my favorite kind, they're 
so silly and fun) who appear out of nowhere in your daily life, give 
you a really hard whack - totally unexpected - and then run off 
chortling with glee. Chortling, I tell you.

This unexpected hard thump is intentional, as a lesson, delivered with 
love, to also bring one "back to business," and also to extend 
alertness and awareness "out there" ("where is he now? could he be 
behind that corner, damn him!?") beyond one's navel-gazing skull.

Then there are "crazy wisdom" masters who give you whacks, and don't 
even know they are masters delivering a message. I had a horse like 
that once...

And, if one fancies oneself as a master delivering the whacks, prolly 
one isn't....

Packing Madly-OutOfPracticeShoester, trying to decide between a 
25-degree bag and a 45-degree bag... prolly 25... and where IS that 

PS Speaking of crazy wisdom, Peter Mathiasson write of a tradition of 
pounding up the stairs with gusto and enthusiasm for a short meeting 
with one's zen master.
His teacher heard him coming and hid behind the door.
After Mathiasson  had burst through the door and bowed low with 
gratitude and respect, he looked up to see ... a large pumpkin placed 
carefully on the master's cushion.
Behind the door, his teacher was giggling hysterically.

A pumpkin.
Well, why not?

I love that story. LOTS of lessons there, starting with the one about 
not taking oneself too seriously...

DidIPackTheTP Shoe

     	AT Journal:
	Jan Leitschuh Sporthorses Ltd.