Stopped on my morning run to watch a woodpecker jackhammering away at breakfast. So much headache for his daily bread!
In his Eihei Kokoru, or Extensive Record, The great Zen master Dogen (1200-1253) speaks of “this difficult World of Endurance,” referring to the world system in which we struggle to earn our own daily bread. Of course, for marathoners and ultra marathoners, “World of Endurance” can have another meaning. For Zen practitioners and runners, our practice can be a living laboratory for testing ourselves to the limits of our own endurance. And what are we testing ourselves for? If it’s to achieve that mysterious state called “enlightenment,” or qualify for the Boston Marathon, then what happens if we’re not enlightened? Or if we fall short of that Boston qualifying time? What then? Are we running simply to run, sitting simply to sit, or are we expecting a payback with interest?
It’s certainly good to have goals — I set them myself. But to identify only with those goals, to let my sense of self-worth rise or fall with the numbers on a digital watch or the answers I give my Zen teacher in dokusan … it’s a path doomed to periodic disappointment and frustration.
Some of the most valuable discoveries in any laboratory are surprises, events that happen outside what was planned for. Whether running or sitting, we should be open to those moments. The journey is, after all, more than the destination. As I hear the first tones of the monitor’s bell in spring sesshin calling me to zazen, or punch “start” on my watch as I begin my tempo run on a deserted high school track or a narrow dirt trail, I vow to be open to experiences beyond my intended goals. I should be open to everything. The unexpected lessons learned can reach far beyond the cushion or the trail, and be my surprise guide in “this difficult World of Endurance.”
