Create a Sacred Space

Since I've had quite a dry spell in my writing, I decided to pull out The Observation Deck--a deck of cards with creative writing ideas to give myself a jumpstart.  The point is to make your self write something about the idea on the card no matter what; there's a little booklet with a few paragraphs about each card to help get the juices flowing.

The first card I pulled read:  "Create a Sacred Space"

I was reminded of my small efforts over the last several months to create a more welcoming spiritual place for myself in my office at work. It's a small corner office many would envy:  huge windows facing west the a clear view of the Front Range. In one corner of my desk I've placed a small cascading fountain and I've arranged my five little ivory laughing buddhas around the fountain and up its steps.  Nearby stands a small white statue of a guardian angel given to me by a friend during some very dark days a couple of years ago.

Next to the fountain is a meditation chime--a metal cylinder cradled on a wooden base with a small wooden mallet which can be used to strike the chime, issuing an extremely clear, bell-like tone that fades ever so slowly back into silence again.  The chime helps me remember to breath and be present.

Also on the desk is a daily Zen calendar with a new quotation for each day; I've saved some of my favorite quotes which are arranged somewhat haphazardly on the desk for repeated reference, including:

"Always stay in your own movie." - Ken Kesey

"Only the madman is absolutely sure." - Robert Anton Wilson

"My father considered a walk among the mountains the equivalent of church-going." - Aldous Huxley

"Awareness is therapy per se." - Fritz Perl

A weekly calendar is on another corner of the desk with beautiful photographs of nature and wild animals;  I look forward to turning the page each Monday morning.  A monthly wall calendar has nature photographs and quotes by that master of the here and now, Eckhart Tolle.  A carved wooden bowl sits nearby which I keep filled with tangerines and apples.  

On the wall opposite the windows is a framed panoramic photo of Boulder's Flatirons glowing pink and orange at dawn.

I spend a lot of time at work and I'm glad I've succeeded in creating a welcoming and spiritual space there.

My bedroom at home is a restful place, with a huge picture over the bed of the ocean viewed through a window with thin white curtains stirring gently in the sea breeze.  Deep blue glass bottles filter the light from the window, pictures of my family grace the walls, a big white goosedown comforter covers the bed.  On the wall by the door is a photograph given to me by my true love of a tree-lined Parisian walkway, the sun filtering down through the leaf canopy.  Perched on one corner of the picture frame is a yellow and purple feathered Mardi Gras mask.

So I think I know how to create sacred spaces for myself.  But when it comes to my writing, I lean toward extreme portability. I like to load my backpack for long walks, carrying with me everything I'll need to write anywhere.  In this case I carry my sacred space inside my head by staying aware and noticing the vastness of the world around me.

Do you have a sacred space?

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

I’ve just finished rereading “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry into Values” by Robert Pirsig circa 1974. I think I first read this book about 30 years ago, and I certainly understood it and got more out of it this time around. If you get it yourself, be sure to get the Perennial Classics Edition with extra insights and a new introduction by the author.

Three threads intertwine in the book: the story of a man and his son trying to connect with each other as they travel cross-country on a motorcycle, an examination of the indefinable concept of quality and the balance necessary between intuition and technology, and a man’s inner struggle to retain his sanity as he reconciles two essential parts of his being into one, for his son’s sake.

The narrator talks about a friend traveling with him who has no interest or patience for learning how to maintain the motorcycle he rides - foresaking technology to focus only art and intuition – and how this is a mistake. To have Quality (Oneness) in one’s life both art and knowledge are needed. He makes the point that this is true for any work or activity and uses motorcycle maintenance as the analogy. Although Quality cannot be defined, you know it when you see it. Quality in an activity is recognizable by the peace of mind a person feels during the activity. Without peace of mind there is no Quality.

These ideas seem very relevant in this election year. From p. 270:

To put it in more concrete terms: If you want to build a factory, or fix a motorcycle, or set a nation right without getting stuck, then classical, structured, dualistic subject-object knowledge, although necessary, isn’t enough. You have to have some feeling for the quality of the work. You have to have a sense of what’s good. That is what carries you forward. This sense isn’t just something you are born with, although you are born with it. It’s also something you can develop. It’s not just “intuition,” not just unexplainable “skill” or “talent.” It’s the direct result of contact with basic reality, Quality, which dualistic reason has in the past tended to conceal.

It all sounds so far out and esoteric when it’s put like that. It comes as a shock to discover that it is one of the most homespun, down-to-earth views of reality you can have. Harry Truman, of all people, comes to mind, when he said concerning his administration’s programs, “We’ll just try them…and if they don’t work…why then we’ll just try something else.” That may not be an exact quote, but that’s close…The reality of the American government isn’t static, he said, it’s dynamic. If we don’t like it we’ll get something better.

(Yes. In January, we will get something better. Don’t forget to vote in November.)

I recognize in these ideas the reason why I am unhappy at work when there is too much focus on numbers, metrics and people as interchangeable “components” and not enough focus on the essence of good work and good results which is represented by Quality.

Meanwhile, I think of my brother, who also read this book thirty years ago and related especially strongly to it. Paul was a mechanical genius – he could fix almost anything. He just knew how machines worked. He was highly interested in Philosophy and could hold his own in philosophical exchanges with my husband, which is no small feat. And Paul struggled to reconcile dueling parts of his personality at war with each other in a way that only a person who is bipolar can really understand.

Pirsig talks about the issue of “stuckness” – how seemingly insurmountable roadblocks and problems are actually opportunities to step back and open mindedly re-examine the facts and their relative importance. This also reminds me of my brother as well as myself and our experiences in the high tech world. P. 292:

Stuckness shouldn’t be avoided. It’s the psychic predecessor to all real understanding. An egoless acceptance of stuckness is a key to an understanding of all Quality, in mechanical work as in other endeavors. It’s the understanding of Quality as revealed by stuckness which so often makes self-taught mechanics so superior to institute-trained men, who have learned how to handle everything except a new situation.

In other words, you must set aside ego enough to admit you’re stuck (even if you’re supposed to be a pro) before you can start down the path toward a solution. At the time he wrote this book Pirsig, onetime professor of Rhetoric and Philosophy, was writing technical documentation for IBM computers. So, high tech folk, the question of Quality as peace of mind comes into play. P. 301:

Peace of mind isn’t at all superficial to technical work. It’s the whole thing. That which produces it is good work and that which destroys it is bad work. The specs, the measuring instruments, the quality control, the final check-out, these are all means toward the end of satisfying the peace of mind of those responsible for the work. What really counts in the end is their peace of mind, nothing else…The way to see what looks good and understand the reasons it looks good, and to be one with this goodness as the work proceeds, is to cultivate an inner quietness, a peace of mind so that goodness can shine through.

He says that this inner peace of mind, “involves unselfconciousness, which produces a complete identification with one’s circumstances…levels and levels of quietness quite as profound and difficult of attainment as the more familiar levels of activity.”

In other words - the profound quietness that can be found in the Now. I want to believe that somewhere, somehow, Paul has also finally found this peace of mind.

How I Stay Sane, Part I - The Power of Now

A few years ago, when the tensions of both family and work seemed to be at a peak, I discovered a book by Ekhart Tolle called "The Power of Now." It has helped me many times since then. The key lesson of this book is to focus on the “Now,” – that is, the present. The idea is that a huge amount of energy is wasted in obsessing on the past or the future. Sometimes there are regrets for things left unsaid or undone in the past, or mistakes made. Other times there is either a longing for a future goal, or fear about what the future might hold. The point is there is nothing a person can do about either the past or the future. The only time is Now. An amazing grace of calm and serenity can be found when you take a big breath and focus on now, and only on what can be done right now. Of course, there are constructive thoughts to be had about both the past (learning from both failures and successes) as well as the future (planning and setting positive goals). But when I am unhappy or anxious, I try to take a deep breath and remember to ask myself: “Are you in the Now? Can anything be done about this right Now?”