I sit next to my window- looking out between the bare trees at the quiet canals reflecting the vast afternoon sky and my thoughts turn back to the castle in Vienna, the sun rising on that perfect winter morning. I think of those hours and days and now weeks since our time together and the challenges, frustrations and new realities we have since been called to face. Some have written of the difficulty of reflection after conference- the frustration of attempting to continue their journey on this path of leadership. Perhaps for many there is the dawning of quiet doubt in the mind, of what was experienced, of what was learned and seen in these few days only two weeks ago.
I am reminded of a recent experience I had from just before Solution began. I went to a one-day workshop combining Zen and Gestalt called the "Big Mind process", lead by one of the leading Zen masters in the West, Gempo Roshi. I will not speak about the content here- except to say that through it I walked a depth of introspection that I have seldom known, and experienced a series of intensifying meditative states- that truly seemed "holistic" to use a phrase we have discussed. These moments of full engagement and the quietened mind came more and more easily as the day went on, becoming deeper and fuller, more and more grounded. I felt such a clarity of awareness- the lessons seemed to make so much sense, that I felt them come from within me, so clearly from my own knowledge, the words from Roshi simply fell through me like rain. I left this workshop in the evening both walking on air and deeply grounded- feeling that this was more real than the busy mind state that usually occupied me with going, doing, achieving, worrying etc. I slept that night with the warm feeling of peace and the glow of seeking within me.
My meditation the next morning was a rude shock. Where was the falling away of the self? Where was the engagement and focus? The experience of yesterday was falling through my fingers, and the cold light of "reality" seemed all to clear. What had seemed so obvious only the day before, I now felt myself doubting as illusion. Perhaps it wasn't as I recalled, in fact, what were my memories of this insight anyway? But I have come this way many times- I know well the bitter taste of the fall after such sweet rise. Many times in the past I have paid for this lesson and continued away until the powerful experience was boxed as a distant, and not quite real, memory.
But after paying so many times for the same lesson, I was now able to learn from it. I laughed at my struggle, at my ego's confused desire for the rush and excitement that is only a product of the path and continued upon my practice. Indeed my meditation that morning was not the deep, transformative experience of the day before, but it was deeper than it had been earlier in my practice. I experienced some peacefulness and some concentration and rose to work that morning refreshed and focused for learning, that little bit more aware of the beautiful world around me and that little bit more aware of the struggling self within. This lesson I had bought repeatedly taught me that this is what is important- to see and walk the path that little bit clearer and closer. To take not a giant leap, but one simple movement towards the mountains.
As I have said, this has not always been the way- indeed, I once prided myself in moving with the simple desire and diversity of experience - even made it my personal philosophy. And it is well that I did, for the countless memories and lessons from this time are invaluable to me. There is a season for all things and this was one. But similarly all things come to a close and when my desire turned more and more frequently to the frustration between knowledge and action, between desire and doing, I knew that the leaves were turning on this summer of simplicity. I needed to walk the path I saw with determination, to not only pick the fruits where providence lay but cultivate them in my own garden of discovery. For me this cultivation, this practice, began with simply sitting- "shikantaza" in the language of Zen. A daily practice was (and is) difficult for me. Following my curiosity leads the learning and creativity that I value so much- and that occupies much of my life without any need for discipline. But similarly I realized that if I could not win this simple battle of "just-sitting" and trying to clear the mind for 30 minutes each day than how could I aim at anything more? And much more would be demanded if I was live the life I envision, and live the philosophy I am to profess. And so I sit.
There are many others you may choose to sew into your canvass of experience; introspection, envisioning, reflection, creativity and expression, study, teaching, work or exercise. And indeed possibly all of them will come into play as one walks the path of leadership. But again, there is a season for all things.
For me this conference was a new beginning and I would like to thank you all immensely for being part of it. For the trust and openness you gave, and for the challenge and opportunities you took. You have given me something beyond what I could envision, have helped me reconnect with a deeper calling and to speak from a greater self. There is no doubt in my mind what I must do.
As I mentioned earlier, I believe this is the Call of Leadership. It begins with a gentle knocking, and soon rises to a thunderous roar that demands attention. At first you may hold it in your hand, but soon it forms the very path that you seek to walk upon.
I arrived home on Monday night after the conference and sat at the same chair, and the same desk, by the same tree, in the same way as I had done hundreds of times before. But I knew, deep within me, that something had fundamentally changed and there was no turning back now. It was hard for me to realize what happened, what I had said and done, what I had become and what I would now surely, seemingly inevitably, become. I unfolded your notes, shared memories and kind words and was overwhelmed, some part of me seeing the experience and realizing what had happened for the first time. It was too much. I looked away, out over the water, but now looking out over unfolding future- and a path that had already been chosen. This newly awakened part of my self shed a single tear.
Thank you and good luck upon your way.
Peace
Arthur
email: arthursblog@gmail.com
blog: arthur.nomadlife.org