Severed and reattached miscellany

I don't know what that title means. It's actually a little gross, no?

So today I woke up feeling kind of groggy and resistant to getting up. I did anyway, and I ended up going for a pretty decent run. I've been going from my house up Santa Fe Trail and back. I noticed that today I ran a little farther than I did on Sunday, and it finally occurred to me to measure the distance using Google Maps. It ended up being around 2.4 miles. Not terrible, in the grand scheme of things, but I'd like to go a little faster. Keeping track of things is a good first step. Already I feel more motivated to move a little quicker. For the time being, my plan is to continue on this same path during the week, but on Sundays, when I have more time, I'd like to run the full 3 miles and just see how long it takes, rather than running a certain amount of time. I can record what I do and try to break the record, until I'm running 3 miles (which is roughly 5k) as a matter of course. Hoorah.

So all of that is the external details of things. Internally, I was trying to put a microscope to why I didn't want to do anything. I came to a somewhat tentative conclusion: repressed anger. Am I angry at anything in particular? Nah, not so much. I had a lot to think about. I'm really pissed at a few particular people these days. People I interact with in my normal, calm manner. This is normal, but it really strikes me now: what kind of fucked-up sense does that make, if my anger dominates my relationship with these people, and I'm not being angry?

I note that this is a huge issue; it's something I do terribly wrong; and, yes, it's something I do wrong more than very many people. Not that what other people do should be my measure for everything, but I must realize that I could be doing something differently, if I want to.

And I think I want to. I want to express anger more. It's been in the forefront of my consciousness, and I've noticed that when the tiniest morsel of anger slips out, even nothing very intense or direct, it returns to me in the form of energy and clarity. It's kind of shameful for me to write about this, because I feel this is something that many get besides me. It's like I'm talking about how wonderful being potty-trained is: it's that level of shame. But I must get over this embarrassment, too, if I want to continue on my path. I can keep learning, and I can be angry, goddamnit!

The anger came out a teeny bit this evening at Zen, during my interview. This conversation percolated in me all day. I wanted to say "Mu makes me angry." I didn't say that, in the end. I said "I'm trying to not look at Mu as an obstruction." Which is true. I got a lot of good answers from Henry about what Mu is and isn't (it's not a thought!), and I would not have gotten them if I had just nodded at him. I told him what I thought seemed wrong about his statements. All it did was serve to get me to a better place of understanding. Zazen is about not having intentions, so how does Mu fit in? Henry told me to focus on the area below my navel (called "hara" in Japanese; it has a bazillion other names in other Asian languages). But, I said, isn't that doing something? Isn't building up a reserve of focus an intention, an agenda, with a necessary train of thoughts? That doubt itself is a thought; and the need to keep the "playing field" clear of ideals is an ideal. Mu is an attempt to break through that type of thinking and absorb yourself in the question of yourself directly.

All right, then. This is beginning to make more sense to me. I'm not done; I've got more criticisms. But now I'm excited to go back and challenge Henry again, with more raw and more intense doubt. Being a compliant monk is a waste of time.

Good night, all.