The Zen of Getting Naked or Where Did I Go?
Part Two in a series, Self and Zen
Self is an “I Am” a couplet. Subject and object in dynamic process with its environment. If we stand in front of a mirror and ask ourselves, “what’s this?” We reveal ourselves. We point to this or that: this is what I am, that is what I am. “I” am tall, short, fat, skinny, handsome, and ugly. “I” am a father, lover, monk, son, doctor, scholar, helper, soldier, friend, killer, and healer. “I” am weird, normal, and strange. I am hot, cold, passionate, or sterile. I am mad, glad, sad, or scared.
Sitting down on a cushion, I face the wall. There, in that still moment, the I AM no longer is. The sound of the ceiling fan, the birdsong, perhaps a pattern forming in the texturing of the walls, these come and go. I am this? I am that? Good zazen. Bad zazen. Short breath, shallow breath, tight chest, loose shoulders, each of these sensations, thoughts, or feelings come and go: falling away like leaves from a winter tree.
So, when, I Am? In front of the mirror? On the cushion? Naked? Dressed? When?
Perhaps the mirror is best understood as the universe around us. In this way, the “I AM” is dependent. I am nothing if not in relationship.
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