A common adage within my community of special friends is the simple instruction, “Be a serious student.” This meaningful phrase holds true for any individual, but if no one continually reminds us of this aesthetic it can be difficult to uphold the meaning and the purpose.
An architect uses a vast amount of material to build a solid foundation before erecting the walls of a building, especially if it is to stand alone without support from an already existing structure. Regardless how small the design, careful attention and sound choices must be part of the decision making to ensure safety, sturdiness and a well-balanced center.
Such is also true of any relationship. In order to be well centered and solid, it must be styled after authentic measures, not to make us feel good about ourselves but apply precision without any unnecessary weight or burden. The worth of a relationship cannot depend on any of the stuff that surrounds it.
The community of monks that I am privileged to know are masters at constructing such relationships. As a group, they contribute an important function for all of humanity. As individuals, each one’s focus and discipline makes them exceptional human beings. Alone, each is powerful in his own right, but together they help construct a center and build an established lifeline to help the serious student. Being accepted into such a community is a rare occurrence because they are part of a heritage that does not waver during signs of struggle or disbelief from the outside world. Their commitment to quality—in the simplest movement or to the most intricate details of building—is unlike anything else practiced in this day and age. Because they have no fascination for any other alternative, they work simply on faith and with authentic ways. They spend no time considering the drama from outer concerns, yet they recognize that it exists and remain supportive. The issues of life that can occupy one’s mind are often a battleground but they have learned to relentlessly meditate in silence in order to win each war.
Though I always struggled with being a serious student, I had an intense desire to build an inner life of devotion and service to God. When I was in my early 60s, a little old Zen Master Monk encouraged me to learn how to breathe and how to sit still, two skills, handcrafted and passed down from one generation to the next in order to change the course of a life in peril.
This whole endeavor, of disassembling and then rebuilding for the purpose of creating a more solid life, was a hands-on approach that significantly impacted my life. Against my normally scattered-brain behavior, this one man wearing a robe revealed a better way to live a life by giving me small doses of wisdom for days upon end, investing in me a considerable amount of time and effortless effort. Though the story seems unlikely, it happened and I maintain my practice to this day.
The story of my early training can be found…
~DK