Day 27: Zen
This morning I woke up early, much earlier than I normally do, even when home. The reason: I was to attend a Zen meditation class at a temple on the far side of Kyoto.
If I were only set to sightsee, I wouldn't have hauled my tired body out of bed so early, but this class only happens early in the mornings.
I haven't been able to sleep as much as I would like, I have been having serious issues stopping my mind from racing, even more than usual. So with only a few hours of sleep on my belt, it was going to be a challenging day for a couple of reasons.
First among those reasons; the bus. Since my arrival in Japan I have actively avoided the bus on the premise that there is just more to go wrong on a bus than on the trains/metro lines (at least in my view of things).
However, after researching how to reach this temple I became clear that the only route worth considering was a bus that would take me must of the way there.
Knowing myself to be a horrifingly I'll equipped human in the first hours after waking, I went and scoped out the bus stop last night on my walk around. First I wanted to make sure i actually knew where it was the bus stopped ahead of time, and then I wanted to make sure I knew how it worked.
I was told before I arrived in Japan that when using the bus you get on through the back door, and you pay as you are leaving through the front door. So I wanted to see these things happening ahead of time to confirm this was the case.
After my suspicions had been confirmed I headed home for the night to go to bed early in hopes of getting a good night's sleep.
I didn't.
The morning came and I rose determined, and extremely tired, thankfully I did my research the night before. Arriving at the bus stop I boarded and took the seat at the front to both see the sign for the next stop and to watch how paying worked.
Thankfully my inaugural bus ride was smooth and problem free. It gave me plenty of time to watch the city wake up. Streets lined with school children and salarymen as though I were on a parade route. After a time I arrived at the temple well ahead of the appointment.
The temple itself, Shunkoin, was situated in a larger temple complex, behind a whiter perimeter wall. I found an entrance in and made my way to the temple.
The grounds of the complex were the quiet and sedate grounds I was expecting as I approached the gate. Instead the paths were busy with pedestrians and cyclists all. Along their way through the grounds. In the distance a morning sermon amplified by speakers could be heard, bit not understood.
I explored the grounds for a while, but eventually came to wait patiently out front of my temple.
Eventually I made my way in and was shown to the meditation room by the abbot of the temple, a kind man named Kawakami. I sat at the front of the room, nearest the window, and waiting for things to being.
...
Up until today I could only say that my form of meditation was self taught, a patchwork of self-discovered methods entirely focused on managing physical pain.
For my entire adult life I have dealt with worsening pains, that up until only very recently I was simply being told that these pains were due to my spinal injury, and while they didn't know why they were getting worse as the years progressed, there was nothing that could be done about them but ever stronger painkillers.
When the painkillers became strong enough that overdose was an easy possibility I had already honed this pain management, allowing me to trade a level of consciousness in exchange for keeping myself from being hospitalised from the sudden onset of a new episode of pain.
This sometimes worked, and worked as long as I could maintain the concentration, but after hours of fighting physical pain I wasn't always able to win.
I have spent many nights in the emergency room, holding back screams of pain as best I could.
...
Once the last of the attendees had arrived, Kawakami began his sermon, guiding us through the practicalities and function of Zen meditation. He spoke about the misconceptions and helped us understand what we would be doing during our meditation session.
To my surprise, he talked about how meditation wasn't, at its core, about making your mind quiet or calming stress. It was about giving yourself the space and time to observe yourself and contemplate why you are the way you are in connection to everything around you (or that's my interpretation and condensation of his words, at least).
Ironically, Kawakami spoke to the misconceptions that most people view meditation as a painkiller, calming stress. He was speaking of figurative pain, mental and emotional suffering, but his main point was still valid: meditation can be used as a way to handle pain, but where is is truly effective is to help uncover the cause of the pain so true action can be taken.
This lined up well with my purpose for being here in Japan, even if it was not what I expected to learn from this course.
My time at the temple came to a close shortly before noon. I thanked the abbot for his time and expressed my appreciation for him sharing his knowledge. Before leaving I got a stamp from the temple and it out a nice cap on things.
The information and ideas that I learned from the abbot haven't given me any answers to the questions I am pondering, nor did I expect them too. But what is had given me is a new perspective and set of tools by which to examine them.
I look forward to applying what I have learned, and practicing the technique I have been shown for finding that focus.
If I were only set to sightsee, I wouldn't have hauled my tired body out of bed so early, but this class only happens early in the mornings.
I haven't been able to sleep as much as I would like, I have been having serious issues stopping my mind from racing, even more than usual. So with only a few hours of sleep on my belt, it was going to be a challenging day for a couple of reasons.
First among those reasons; the bus. Since my arrival in Japan I have actively avoided the bus on the premise that there is just more to go wrong on a bus than on the trains/metro lines (at least in my view of things).
However, after researching how to reach this temple I became clear that the only route worth considering was a bus that would take me must of the way there.
Knowing myself to be a horrifingly I'll equipped human in the first hours after waking, I went and scoped out the bus stop last night on my walk around. First I wanted to make sure i actually knew where it was the bus stopped ahead of time, and then I wanted to make sure I knew how it worked.
I was told before I arrived in Japan that when using the bus you get on through the back door, and you pay as you are leaving through the front door. So I wanted to see these things happening ahead of time to confirm this was the case.
After my suspicions had been confirmed I headed home for the night to go to bed early in hopes of getting a good night's sleep.
I didn't.
The morning came and I rose determined, and extremely tired, thankfully I did my research the night before. Arriving at the bus stop I boarded and took the seat at the front to both see the sign for the next stop and to watch how paying worked.
The driver wears a microphone to call out the stops and announcements, and thanks everyone individually as they pay and leave.
Thankfully my inaugural bus ride was smooth and problem free. It gave me plenty of time to watch the city wake up. Streets lined with school children and salarymen as though I were on a parade route. After a time I arrived at the temple well ahead of the appointment.
The temple itself, Shunkoin, was situated in a larger temple complex, behind a whiter perimeter wall. I found an entrance in and made my way to the temple.
The grounds of the complex were the quiet and sedate grounds I was expecting as I approached the gate. Instead the paths were busy with pedestrians and cyclists all. Along their way through the grounds. In the distance a morning sermon amplified by speakers could be heard, bit not understood.
I explored the grounds for a while, but eventually came to wait patiently out front of my temple.
Eventually I made my way in and was shown to the meditation room by the abbot of the temple, a kind man named Kawakami. I sat at the front of the room, nearest the window, and waiting for things to being.
...
Up until today I could only say that my form of meditation was self taught, a patchwork of self-discovered methods entirely focused on managing physical pain.
For my entire adult life I have dealt with worsening pains, that up until only very recently I was simply being told that these pains were due to my spinal injury, and while they didn't know why they were getting worse as the years progressed, there was nothing that could be done about them but ever stronger painkillers.
When the painkillers became strong enough that overdose was an easy possibility I had already honed this pain management, allowing me to trade a level of consciousness in exchange for keeping myself from being hospitalised from the sudden onset of a new episode of pain.
This sometimes worked, and worked as long as I could maintain the concentration, but after hours of fighting physical pain I wasn't always able to win.
I have spent many nights in the emergency room, holding back screams of pain as best I could.
...
Once the last of the attendees had arrived, Kawakami began his sermon, guiding us through the practicalities and function of Zen meditation. He spoke about the misconceptions and helped us understand what we would be doing during our meditation session.
To my surprise, he talked about how meditation wasn't, at its core, about making your mind quiet or calming stress. It was about giving yourself the space and time to observe yourself and contemplate why you are the way you are in connection to everything around you (or that's my interpretation and condensation of his words, at least).
Ironically, Kawakami spoke to the misconceptions that most people view meditation as a painkiller, calming stress. He was speaking of figurative pain, mental and emotional suffering, but his main point was still valid: meditation can be used as a way to handle pain, but where is is truly effective is to help uncover the cause of the pain so true action can be taken.
This lined up well with my purpose for being here in Japan, even if it was not what I expected to learn from this course.
My time at the temple came to a close shortly before noon. I thanked the abbot for his time and expressed my appreciation for him sharing his knowledge. Before leaving I got a stamp from the temple and it out a nice cap on things.
The information and ideas that I learned from the abbot haven't given me any answers to the questions I am pondering, nor did I expect them too. But what is had given me is a new perspective and set of tools by which to examine them.
I look forward to applying what I have learned, and practicing the technique I have been shown for finding that focus.
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