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Lions Roar : September 2014
I had no idea how to cross-country ski. I figured I’d just shuffle my way through the race pretending that my skis were simply elongated clown shoes. This method worked until the first hill, and I learned that the downside of shuffling was that I had to sidestep up each hill, and there were lots of them. To say I was slow doesn’t even begin to describe it. When I finally made it past the finish line, I was at least an hour behind the second slowest racer. It was dark. The only per- son left in the lodge was the groundskeeper, who was earning some serious overtime waiting for my arrival. And the other thing waiting for me? A trophy that was over three feet tall for coming in first in my age group. I thought it was pretty funny. When I took the trophy to work the next day, it was like I had won the Winter Olympics. Even though I told my story hon- estly, the trophy was prominently displayed and I was called “the company jock” forevermore. Perks were included with this title, including free tickets to sports events. It didn’t matter that I didn’t deserve any of it. The trophy proved that I was extraordinary. In transitioning to today’s life of ordinariness, I’ve been helped by invaluable guides. linji (japanese: Rinzai) is a favor- ite. Zen Master linji, who lived in China in the ninth century, is best known for his skillful use of shouts and whacks and his penchant for referring to the Buddha as a dried shit stick. What is less known is his skillful insistence on the need to live as ordi- nary beings. As he put it, “There is no need for hard work. The principles are: not to try to be anyone special, and to have noth- ing to do.” He said, “just put on your robes, eat your food, and pass the time.” When I was first introduced to this component of linji’s teach- ing some years back, it was confusing. Be ordinary? Don’t plan? just eat when I’m hungry and sleep when I’m tired? It sounded boringly simple. But it wasn’t. And it isn’t. Being ordinary means giving up any hope that we might be the center of any universe. It means we don’t have any coattails for friends and family to grasp, no bragging rights to offer up, no news for Facebook. And yet. It turns out that, when we honestly dare to be ordinary, the wisdom of the universe opens up for us. We see our own condi- tioned habits and understand how they can be untangled with a minimum of harm done to those around us. We get to watch for what each day is asking of us; maybe it’s doing some volunteer work or heading off to a job or staying in bed all day to give a cold a chance to move on. We notice more—a whole world of miracles that unfolds and unfolds without end. Anxiety less- ens. Gratitude expands. Our intuition may skyrocket (and often does) and our creativity grows. We become available. We learn to rely completely on our direct experience, not on our thinking and reasoning. It gets better. joy happens. We feel free. We are no longer shaken up—by anything—finally realizing, if we are lucky, that being ordinary is just the ticket to a wonderful life. ♦ SHAMBHALA SUN SepteMBer 2014 28