The origins of Zen
Zen is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese character “Chan” which, in turn, is a Chinese translation of the Sanskrit term “dhyana” which means meditation. Meditation is further defined as a deeper awareness of oneness which is inclusive of perception of body, mind, senses and surrounding, yet remaining unidentified with it. I’m still trying to understand what that last part really means, but the rest of it has been a key focus for the last few years. As a young boy in the 11th grade I had a crisis of faith and turned away from the church until I could get several questions answered. This did not happen until 13 years later. During the time in between I “studied” various religions, and by studied I mean I read a couple books, watched a few movies, drank a lot of adult beverages and sat around in a drunken stupor throwing every manner of theory against the conversational wall to see what would stick. It was not a practice as much as it was a way for me to mask my fear and insecurity by making myself feel more confident by making myself sound more worldly and intellectual. Little did I know I was slowly developing a unhealthy dissociative disorder as a coping mechanism in stressful social situations.
I was able to fool myself for many years, but after my return from Afghanistan and Iraq with the Army I found myself sliding quickly down the slopes of the kind of depression, isolation, and paranoia commonly associated with PTSD. I denied I had any problems for years until my wife Kathryn pointed out the fact that I was drifting further and further away from my family every day. My behavior, once I actually allowed myself to become aware of it, was so far out of control that I still marvel at the fact that I still have a family to come home to every day. I have always had pretty decent control over vices, at least after December 9th 1995, but that’s a different story for another day. The one thing I did not have control over was my mind. The symptoms of my PTSD have roots that extend far back into my past and my ability to understand and cope with it is only a very recent development. As a result I have almost 20-30 years of memories of embarrassing and shameful behavior that was nothing more than my attempt to insulate and protect myself from the judgement and criticism that I am not so sure now even existed.
7 years ago, as I was just becoming aware PTSD and the fact that I have it, I also became aware of the fact that I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. A cursory Google search told me that Xanax and other prescription psychotropic drugs would probably help, but they also make me go blind, blink in and out of consciousness, and possibly make me kill myself or someone close to me. Call me crazy, but that didn’t sound like the kind of risk I was willing to take. As I struggled to find a way out of the darkness my wife suggested I buy the materials to make a wallet I was looking to replace. That suggestion started me down my path to Zen.
Now, I am no Eastern Mystic or Buddhist practitioner. I mentioned earlier that I did make my way back to the church with lots of help. One of the chief components of Zen is the “True Self”, (i.e “What are you”?) At that time all I knew was that I was scared and confused and racked with insecurity. As I continued to work on leather and I started to focus on the projects in front of me and the ideas simmering in the front of my brain I started to feel a difference in the back of my brain. I would find myself thinking more and more about myself; not the things that were “said” and “done” to me but the manner in which I respond to those things. As I would tool a design I would think about the way I behave in certain situations and I would start to pick apart the scenario to the point where I started to recognize certain similarities in each situation that would elicit particular reactions or responses. The similarities would come to be known as “triggers”.
Time and repetition of the processes involved in basic leathercraft were slowly helping me identify the internal and external factors that I was obviously sensitive to, but then the question arose as to why I was sensitive to them? What was is about these situations that was so significant as to cause me to react silently or violently when I came into contact with them? What did all of these situations have in common? It took me three years to understand that I was the common factor in all of these situations. I was allowing these things to affect me. I was the one bringing emotional content into every situation and believing steadfastly that I had such an incredible impact on other people’s lives that even the smallest and most inconsequential social misstep was enough to ruin their perception of me, much less ruin their day. As I looked more closely at myself I saw patterns emerge where moments of social awkwardness were punctuated with the fear that I did not know how to conduct myself socially and felt as though everything I did was subjected to harsh criticism and judgment. Through even further introspection I came to understand that my behavior was normal considering the nature of my early social conditioning and that my simple awareness of myself in these situations would assist me in being more honest with myself as well as those with whom I would interact.
As time moved forward, so did I. I learned to forgive myself for my missteps (past, present, and future) and focus more on events as they unfold before me. I still lapse from time to time, but ultimately I have learned to forgive myself and accept the fact that I am forgiven. I can now keep my eyes and mind open and focused and that presence and mindfulness is the root of my Zen.
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