I’ve always enjoyed
activities that had a sparse, Zen-like quality to them. My first love of this kind was martial
arts. I was nine or ten when my
father agreed to let me take Karate – Okinawan karate-do to be precise
(Isshin-Ryu, Shorin-Ryu, Goju-Ryu).[1] At
first, I think he was reluctant.
This was probably on account of the fact that I had quit other “sport”
activities that I was involved in.
I could hit a baseball hard, and had a good arm, but I hated the monotony of America’s pastime. I played football some, but didn’t care
much for it either. But when I
encountered martial arts, I encountered something entirely different. Although I trained with others, and
fought with others, the only real competition was with myself. Okinawan karate-do focuses on very
basic movements, but they must be done with precision, perfect technique, and
impeccable timing. And the only way
to achieve that is with a lot of practice. And the practice allows you to enter into flow, what I would best describe as a present moment thisness, where there is only the movement(s) being done,
and you lose (to a certain extent) sense of time and space.
A few years later,
when I was a teenager, I was an avid skateboarder for several years. At first, perhaps I was drawn to the
world of skateboarding because it seemed something of a rebellious
activity. But you don’t stick with an activity just for the sake of being a
rebel. It didn’t take me long to
realize that skateboarding often had the same quality as martial arts. You practice the basic moves over and
over, and then you just let go – there really isn’t any thinking involved. There is only flow.
Which brings me
around to the third love[2]
of my active life: lifting.
Lifting – and primarily Olympic lifting and powerlifting, but I suppose
bodybuilding, as well – is the most “Zen” of all activities I can think of
outside of martial arts.[3] When you lift properly, you don’t need
a whole lot of exercises. A few
movements will suffice: squats, deads, benches, power cleans, power snatches,
high pulls, overhead presses, and barbell curls can pretty much cover it. You “practice” these movements
frequently, which not only makes you stronger and bigger, but it also allows
you to reach the point where there is no point of thinking – in fact,
“thinking” can get you in plenty of trouble, allowing you to miss a lift by
over analyzing or by intimidation.
And here’s the thing
– the whole crux of the matter,
if you will – as you repeatedly practice lifting weights (and martial arts and skateboarding, if you are at all
interested in either of those things), the flow you experience and that you encounter while under the bar becomes a part of the rest of
your life. Even the mundane –
washing dishes, folding the laundry, driving back and forth to your place of
work – begin to have a certain flow to them, a certain of ease of being. But it’s more than the mundane. You will probably notice it first – if
you are aware enough – in your
relationships; with co-workers, with parents, siblings, and children, with
spouses. As you learn to let
things simply be in your
training, and as you begin to see great results from this being, you realize – whether consciously or not – that you
can let the people and the things in your life just be too.
One thing does need
to be done, and that’s the simple cognition that you need to take your
training, your practice, and bring it into the rest of your life.
(Because, probably at this point you are thinking to yourself that you
don’t exactly see a lot of lifters behaving as if they’re Zen masters[4].)
I could at this
point, I suppose, explain to you just what I mean by “bringing it into the rest
of your life” but I don’t think I will.
Part of the joy of lifting and practice is discovering it for yourself.[5]
[1] On a side
note, I am glad that I chose karate-do over the other offerings in our town,
primarily tae kwon do. Good, true karate-do (besides simply being tougher) allows one to enter into a freedom of mind because
it’s direct, relatively simple (although this doesn’t mean easy), and to the
point. (For more on why karate is
the most Zen of the martial arts,
I recommend the book “Rhinoceros Zen. Zen Martial Arts and the Path to Freedom” by Sensei Jeffrey
Brooks. Awesome read.) Also, I was lucky in that at the dojo I
selected, our sensei always made us sit zazen for 5 to 10 minutes at the end of each session.
[2] I still love
authentic, traditional martial arts, but I hung up my skateboard many years
ago.
[3] I realize
that there are a lot of surfers who would disagree with this statement, but
I’ve never been a surfer, so I’m sticking to my guns.
[4] Of course,
I’m not sure what a “Zen master” even is, or if such a person actually exists –
at least, not the ones that behave as if they are Yoda. Besides, all you have to do is google
some such thing as “Zen behaving badly” and you will find plenty of examples of
sorry-excuses-for-Zen-masters in the world. But maybe that’s for another piece. (And on another, albeit slightly separate
note, I think there are higher forms of “spiritual” practice than Zen, but
where Zen excels is in the mundane, the simple act of living your life from day
to day.)
[5] I will say
this: It helps to have some form of “spiritual” practice. Your spirituality, your lifting, and
your life must settle into one seamless whole. At least, that’s the goal.
Comments
Post a Comment
Feel free to leave us some feedback on the article or any topics you would like us to cover in the future! Much Appreciated!