Action Monday #1 - Commitment to Action

It has been a long time since I last posted. Nearly a full two years (my husband had to point out my initial math error - I originally calculated it as one... it doesn't feel that long, which is nice and also strange). There are many reasons for the long absence, none of which benefit from time or focus in this post.

But I have made a decision! Lately I'm keenly aware of the self-induced nature of my suffering. And I mean that in the karmic/Buddha sort of sense. Suffering. My doing. My creating. My responsibility.

The antithesis, I've decided, is action. At least for today. At least for me.

Not only have I committed to renewing my yoga practice (slowly at home on my bright pink mat with the flower pattern that captures and delights my daughter), but I've also committed to walking every day at lunch when the weather is welcoming. (The honeysuckle in the photo was a lunchtime reminder of happy childhood moments in Midwestern fields and woods.)

This commitment to action has inspired yet another commitment: to begin blogging regularly again.

I miss it. I miss you reading it. I miss my writing it. I miss having to take what is so often a non-verbal, fleeting, vague sense of something flirting with truth... and shape it into a narrative ready to share with others. One that hopefully resonates productively - positively - like a gentle nudge... bordering on a polite shove.

Today I shove myself: Get going, you. Stop being stuck. Commit to action.

May you feel called to purpose. May you feel empowered to act.

Repetition

Back in May, I heard a story on NPR about a monk who had completed 1,000 days of walking meditation in order to reach the next level of enlightenment. This practice is called Sennichi Kaihogyo and takes place around Mount Hiei. It is unclear from poking around if the monks who undertake this practice primarily walk, run, or both... but the end result is the participant has essentially transversed a distance equal to the circumference of the Earth at the end of the 1000_th day.

At the time I caught the broadcast, I had been thinking a lot about art, Buddhism, commitment, and forms of dedication... or rather, the ways in which we imbue meaning or purpose to action via consistent commitment/dedicated focus.

There is something powerful about renewed intention toward some aim or purpose. I'm not sure it even matters what it is we turn our attention toward (so long as it is not harmful or maleficent)... so long as we choose - again and again - to put our energy toward some form of expression.

Pressfield, I think would support this theory, as do the sometimes surprising pop culture or social phenoms sometimes thrust into success or rewarded with support, such as Matt Harding or Marina Abramović. And, of course, you find this sort of repetition of focus or activity via many world religions and spiritual philosophies.

I think, perhaps, we transcend the day-to-day when we shift something from the realm of mundane routine and elevate it into something extraordinary... simply by committing to repetition.

To dance in a silly way once or twice is one thing... to do it an infinite number of times in an infinite number of places suddenly transforms its meaning and purpose. Same with sitting in a chair, or taking a photo each day (think Smoke or check out this blog), or writing a daily blog entry, or asking the same question to hundreds of people.

I have been thinking about it a lot - this magic and miracle of repetition - and I think it may come down to this. These long-form processes of dedication (be they artistic, personal, spiritual, or whathaveyou) place us along two simultaneous paths of understanding.

1. Everything is special. Distilling experience to the level of recognizing it moment to moment often enables a perspective cognizant of how miraculous life is. All the time. Nothing is ever the same... and there is deep and magnificent, awe-inspiring grandeur in the singularity of experience we enjoy each second. I think this becomes more noticeable when we seek to capture it in some form... pin it down so we can record it and look at it and hold it up to the light.

Meanwhile...

2. Nothing is special. There is something profoundly simple in everything we might choose to do. All action carries as little and as much import as any other. Walking around a mountain is simply walking around a mountain - whether one chooses to do that one time or a thousand times. And once we move something from a space of unique to a space of routine, it offers the opportunity to better understand how our attachments define our perception of our actions. Particularly in the context of ego and the all-too-common pitfall of comparing our lives to the lives of others... or deciding we can't do something because it is too hard/too much/too big/etc.

There is beauty in seeing something again and again - and through repetition we are aware both of how singularly special everything is, and also how it is all one thing. How the lines of distinction we attach to name, form, substance... the ways in which we categorize or differentiate the things of our lives... how really it's all illusion.

There is no separation. No beginning. No end. It just is. And in that paradox, that circle of never-ending-never-beginning-always-ending-always-beginning, there is a kind of freedom and knowing one might glimpse. A moment of being defined as always/never/divine/mundane in which all things are... well, they just are.

That's my guess, at least. I'll let you know if my perspective changes should I ever walk across a mountain for a thousand days.

May you find renewal in repetition of all kinds. May your dedication (in whatever form it takes) bring you peace.

Purpose

I have been thinking a lot lately about the concept of purpose. Perhaps some think of it as direction... or purpose-fulness... or meaning. Many names, likely many varieties and variations.

But something we all seek, I think. Something we all yearn for.

So what is purpose? I have been trying to parse out my own definition for it, and think it links to something that is larger than myself. Being actively engaged in a daily sort of way in an activity or being or pursuit that ultimately responds to the people around me in a way that is compassionate and engaged.

I might also add authentic. So... engaged, compassionate, authentic - and useful. One of the reasons I began to question theatre as a career was I often felt it was not useful enough in the lives of the people who came to see it. In other words... I began to wonder if there might be a way in which I could interact with others that might ultimately serve them in more concrete and lasting ways.

Which is not to say performance and art and theatre have no purpose. Quite the opposite. I think I needed to be out of it for 4 years to see and appreciate the effect and impact such expressions can have.

But I do believe my larger purpose... my ultimate purpose... might be a bit different than simply standing on stage and performing for others. Perhaps I will eventually be led back to my many buckets theory - which would suggest my truest and most connected form of self might best be attained by doing several different things (for example: a bit of teaching, a bit of theatre, a bit of dance, and some counseling).

Lately, I've begun to wonder if writing is something I should have fought for and worked on a bit harder. If one is to consider the possibility of serving others in some way that is connected to a larger purpose... a divine... a "god" or collective of some kind then I do think that maybe one of my most powerful forms of expression is through the written word.

I'm much better on paper than in person. I've always been able to be more intimate, more honest, more direct, and more articulate via writing. This is in some ways a strength and in other ways, quite a failing.

Purpose, I think, blends our fortes and frailties. It's equal parts triumph and evolution because it affords us the opportunity to both shine and grow. That's my take in this moment, anyway.

So... on the off chance this is the best way to fulfill my purpose as it reaches up toward something bigger than the little "i" of me, I will keep blogging. Just in case it has meaning beyond my experience of tapping keys, snoring dog, and whirling-internal-questioning.

May your purpose be clear to you.