ZEN-TO-GO MOMENTS: AN APPRECIATION OF PRECIOUS TIMES

Ya ya ya.  Zen is good.  Ya ya ya.  Zen is harmony.  Every pseudo-academic, every tree hugger, and every hippy that ever was and still is knows that Zen is the best ya ya ya strategy for self-help therapy.  But how do you get there?  How do you get to Zen?

Do you get there by reading Zen-to-go books, until you find your Zen moment when being chased by tigers whilst at the same time discovering the deliciousness of just one strawberry while you are on the edge of death hanging onto a cliff for dear life?

Or do you get there by reading and reading and reading and reading even more Zen-to-go books only to painfully conclude that to live is to suffer is the skinny of Zen?  Or do you just try to literally grasp certain moments attempting to enact a seize-the-day carpe diem personal philosophy.

Ya ya ya.  Transcendental Meditation.  Mindfulness.  And now, Mindfulness Meditation.  In my mind when I really think about it (pun intended), these are all the same.  Every one of these has the same purpose and same technique to get there, wherever there is.  I am not certain about any of this, but I do have moments when I feel I am there.  For me, these are feelings of Zen.  Just to be clear (pun intended), a Zen lifestyle is one of clarity and so, for the purposes of this essay, I shall define a Zen moment as a moment of clarity.

These last few years while (Zen) suffering existential dread, I have attempted on a regular basis to experience Zen moments.  And such moments begin with my morning coffee.  Between 5:30 and 6:00 a.m. I have my morning coffee, one Americano pod pressed from a Tassimo coffee maker, into which I stir one dab of Mark’s Wildflower Honey (given to me by my oftentimes gig-mate, Mark, who is a beekeeper) and a couple glugs of milk, unstirred.  And then for approximately 15 minutes I sip my coffee in solitude, in freedom before my daily read of CNN news, Al Jazeera news, ABC news, NBC news, Donald Trump news on Politico, Regina news, Regina obits, my Instagram, and as of late, Duolingo (I am learning French).

Walking to work after my coffee has to be next to experiencing Zen.  No matter the weather (remember there is no such thing as bad weather, there is only bad dress), I take the same route past a corner coffee shop and through Victoria Park.  Ah, Victoria Park!  The oldest park in Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada.  Two beautiful square blocks of kept grass and pollarded trees surrounding a cenotaph at the centre and a glockenspiel at the edge.  I walk alongside twin glass towers that are situated in the downtown plaza which borders the park.  I walk. I breathe.  I take in the sights.

Upon my arrival at work is my exit of Zen.  But then Zen is experienced again at the end of my workday while on my walk home.  Between my morning Zen and afternoon Zen walks, all my actions and performances are perfunctory.  This does not mean that I view my profession as thoughtless, it just means that my workday is not Zen-like.

Later every evening I have a London Fog with my son, Baron, on the shore of Wascana Lake, in Wascana Park.  Ah Wascana Park!  The second largest urban park in North America!  And it is right here in the heart of Regina!

I say London Fogs but really, we have a London Fog and a London Forest, both purchased for a total of $5.97 at the Tim Hortons on the corner of 12^th Avenue and Broad Street.  Baron has the London Fog and I have the London Forest.  (A London Forest is like a London Fog, but with the substitution of green tea for black tea, and so called because of the green connotation.)

Moments as these, having evening teas with Baron, are peaceful but finite.  I know this because I have had such moments with Baron all his life.  Riding on the back of my bicycle, skateboarding alongside me while I ran long-distance, kicking soccer balls in the back yard are all moments gone, and so, too, shall these moments of London Fogs and Forests be lost in time, but not in mind.

Whilst sipping these teas we chat a bit and see lots, mostly pedestrians walking their dogs or pushing their babies in strollers along the Devonian pathway through the park.  In the 70’s, I had somewhat similar observations, except then it was with university mates watching the passers-by on the downtown streets. Back then, we referred to it as “people freaking.” Most times we would people freak while sipping coffees at outdoor café patios.  Such behavior then was hardly Zen-like; sadly, it was more like university elitism.

Nowadays for me playing chess with an equal opponent is always Zen-like.  In these games of chess, I always get lost in the frame of Time Condensation.  (Factoid:  Time Condensation is the feeling that time flies, like when you are with someone you are fond of and the hours seem like minutes.  Per contra, there is Time Expansion, like when you are late for work and waiting for a bus and the minutes seem like hours.  Time Condensation - Time Expansion  can be expressed in cliché: Time flies when you're having fun; patience is a virtue when you're not.)  Another factoid:  Both concepts, Time Condensation and Time Expansion, are prevalent and fundamental devices in my private hypnotherapy practice.) Playing opponents with weaker or stronger abilities moves my mind from a mode of chillax, to one of sympathy for the moves of the opposing weaker player or having to always second guess regarding the moves of the opposing stronger player.

Experiencing Zen moments also occurs for me when I listen to certain songs.  Take for example any Dave Clark Five song from the ‘60s.  Whenever any of their songs pop on the radio, I literally go back in time in my mind, mesmerized for the three or four minutes of dulcet and soothing song. 

Another song that stops me is the Glen Hansard/Mick Christopher street-busking version of You Ain’t Going Nowhere.  This song is my busking mantra anytime I hit the street with my guitar and harpoon. 

I have written lots of songs, but my Crescent Beach especially moves me.  Audience members who have listened to Crescent Beach during any of my stage performances have often commented on the ‘70s feel to this song.  (Admittedly, I was strongly influenced by the song, Tom’s Diner sung by Suzanne Vega when I wrote it.)  I have performed this song hundreds of time and still get lost in (my own) space every time I sing it.

I also have Zen moments when I play my didgeridoo.  When the circular breathing is going, going, going time certainly takes a wing.  Breathing, breathing, breathing.  Inhaling slowly.  Exhaling slowly.  Loose lips vibrating to create a continued raspberry lip buzzing.  Didge time is condensation time.  Didge moments are Zen moments.

Marching in my CHAUCERIAN PARADE this week is Bonita. (See picture atop this blog entry.)  Every Monday is OPEN MIC NIGHT at THE CURE, on 11^th Avenue in downtown Regina.  This past Monday night I decided to sing on stage, “SUMMER WINE,” the ‘60s hit featuring Lee Hazelwood and Nancy Sinatra.  Bonita, sitting on a bar stool right beneath the stage and among a rather roisterous crowd, volunteered to come up and sing the Nancy Sinatra parts.  Not only did she take “my silver spurs, a dollar and a dime,” she also took my cowboy hat! 

Performing on stage is hectic!

But looking at this picture right now is a ZEN moment.

Ya ya ya.  Uh hmmm.