This is the story of a tragically ambitious young lady on a mission. With her face painted all pretty and her carefully selected outfit looking all-cute, she tied up her sturdy walking boots and embarked on her pursuit.
This ambitious young lady was on a steadfast mission to find ‘Zen’. The notion of Zen had long eluded her and she was now determined to understand, conquer and acquire this mysterious thing. Motivated by the ethereal sense of calm and peace that exudes from the people who speak of experiencing Zen, the young lady was certain that it must and will be hers, whatever this Zen thing turned out to be.
And so, on this beautiful spring day, she stepped out of her apartment and set forth to achieve her conquest. The sun was shinning, the birds were chirping and all the folks passing her by were smiling. How could she not be successful in finding Zen today?
Walking through the neighborhood park her eyes scanned the surroundings for any hints of Zen. The children playing football were obviously too ignorant and chaotic to be Zen-like. The joggers way too aggressive, and the couples too young and self-absorbed.
So where could this Zen be hiding? In the trees? Perhaps around the corner, a little further down the trail?
While mapping out all the options, she could pursue, her eyes fell upon a pretty woman, spread across a mat on the plush grass, balancing on her arms with her legs stretched out in an outlandishly limber fashion. Despite this perplexing posture the pretty woman’s face exuded calm and focus, as if she was living and breathing in her own peaceful world where limbs have no joints and muscles are impossibly strong.
Watching her move from one bizarre pose to another, the young lady had a sense that this pretty woman could possibly know the recipe to the secret sauce of Zen. “Um, excuse me Ma’am”, the young lady approached timidly. Bent over with her tailbone pointing upwards and her arms and legs extended opposite directions, the pretty woman glanced up, emitting a flicker of agitation.
“Sorry to disturb you, but may I ask you a question?” The pretty woman slowly straightened her body to a standing position, curiously eyeing the young lady who had the nerve to disrupt her. “Um…I, er, was watching you and admiring how calm and peaceful you look when twisting your body like that. Where does one learn how to do what you’re doing?” The pretty woman told her about a studio in the neighborhood that offered free classes. “Oh, splendid! So I can go there and learn how to achieve Zen for free?” The pretty woman simply smiled politely and went on with her bending Zen-like activities.
Ok then, the young lady thought, my conquest awaits me in this studio. And it is free, sweet deal! In no less than twenty minutes she had located the studio and as luck would have it, she was just in time for a class. “The Universe really does want me to find Zen today!” she exclaimed to the bemused receptionist. Soon enough the young lady found herself sitting on a mat, impatiently awaiting instructions on how to twist and turn her limbs and thereby attain Zen in a room full of barefooted strangers.
Turns out that contortion is not only far from simple and Zen-like, it is, in fact, downright painful. How can one achieve Zen when all you can feel is your burning, quivering thigh muscles? “You want me to do what with my limbs?” she yelled at the perky instructor. “You expect my body to do that? Are you insane? What, clearly far from Zen-like planet are you crazy people from?”
In a loud huff of exasperation, she collected her sweaty, shaking body and plodded her way out of the studio. Experiencing muscle spasms in parts of her body she didn’t even know existed, the exhausted young lady took a minute to rest her poor, mistreated body on a sidewalk bench, while deciding upon the next move.
We can definitely rule out that body twisting rubbish, she thought, cursing the evidently malicious, and actually not-so-pretty, contortionist woman in the park.
As she plotted a new route for her mission an old man hobbling along with a cane approached the sidewalk bench. “Excuse me young lady, is this seat taken?” Irritated by this disturbance and the sound of his raspy voice, she shook her head, barely acknowledging the old man as he squeaked “Al right then!” After a couple of minutes the young lady noticed out of the corner of her eye that the old man was just sitting there. Motionless. Staring into oblivion. Is he catatonic, she wondered? Is this how old people behave before they keel over and die? Should she be dialing 911?
“Sir? Are you OK?” “Why? Of course I am young lady!” the old man answered in a raspy voice, emitting a peculiarly cute, yet creepy, toothless grin. “Are you OK?”
“Well”, she sighed, “To be honest, I’m a little frustrated. See I’ve made it my mission to find Zen and this notso- pretty heinous woman in the park tricked me into thinking I could find it by learning how to contort my body into excruciating positions! Turns out there was definitely no Zen to be found, just agony and time wasted!”
The young lady sat there, awaiting a nod, a sigh, a shrug, something that signaled empathy towards her plight. The old man set his cane aside, paused, and looked directly into the eyes of the young lady. Mind you all the while still grinning like a toothless infant mesmerized by a delightfully entertaining story.
“Young lady,” he whispered barely audibly, drawing her in so close she could smell the scent of his rusty breath. “Have you tried to sit still, close your eyes and let the Zen come to you?” Based on her puzzled expression he took her answer to be no.
And so the old man turned his head forward, inhaled deeply, rested his arms on his lap, closed his eyes and returned to his motionless state.
What on earth is he talking about? Is he sleeping right now? Maybe he’s dead! Hah, Ha! Good riddance. Oh, wait, maybe he’s experiencing Zen right now. Maybe she should just do what he says and Zen will finally be hers. Fine, eyes closed, body muscles engaged to be still, let’s do this, she thought. Zen, the young lady declared, come to me! Sitting there in silence waiting for Zen to appear, the young lady’s mind bounced from thoughts of what to eat for dinner, to recollections of last night’s movie, to reminders of all the errands to be done, to endless questions over why the boy she so desired hadn’t called her back. In spite of all this activity, no Zen appeared. Not even a hint of Zen seemed to be apparent. This approach clearly wasn’t working.
In a flash of fury she opened her eyes and glared at the senile geriatric, still seated there in all his meaningless, and/or dead, position. Why was she even listening to a clearly demented old man who would most likely be dead in twenty-four hours? Enough of this craziness! Taking the courtesy to walk away quietly, the young lady beat herself up for being stupid and naïve trying to follow the path of these silly, crazy people.
She then decided that Zen was not to be found following the advise of random strangers, but through the people who actually knew and cared about her. So she called up a group of friends, arranged plans for dinner and drinks, and focused her attention on the promise of joy and laughter that would surely accompany the evening ahead.
And joyous indeed it was! Scrumptious food was eaten, delicious wine was drank, hilarious stories were shared and you could hear the sparks of laughter illuminating the table like the iridescent glow of an electric current. Captivated by the golden shimmering light and the buzz of interminable energy, the young lady thought, now THIS is pure Zen!
The next morning she awoke. Groggy and bleary eyed she was met with a dull, throbbing headache and waves of fatigue, despite sleeping until almost noon. Is experiencing Zen meant to make you feel so tired the next day? Isn’t Zen meant to make you feel forever energized and happy like she did last night? This cannot be what experiencing Zen feels like! Pouring a cup of rich, black coffee down her parched throat, she sat at her dining table ruminating over where she could possibly have gone wrong on her quest. A light bulb instantly switched on in her mind as she came to a realization of her obvious mistake.
She had failed to sit down and actually study Zen. Of course unlocking the secrets of Zen must require a tremendously sharp, extremely intellectual mind. Otherwise all the dim-witted human beings on the planet (i.e. almost everyone) would have acquired it. Duh! More than anything, the young lady had no doubt about her possession of a genius, beyond gifted, smarter than Einstein, brain.
Hence, with a thermos of piping hot coffee in hand she marched into the local public library and declared to no one in particular, “Show me where your Zen section is! Please.” Guided by a slightly perturbed librarian she was led to a section titled ‘Religion & Spirituality’. “Shouldn’t we be going to the section beginning with ‘Z’,” the young lady asked? “Um, I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” answered the librarian, while taking cautious, determined steps away from the frenzied young lady.
Assuming that the librarian was yet another demented creature, the young lady turned her attention to the bookshelves and began selecting random titles, convinced that the Universe would lead her to the right ones. After all, wasn’t the Universe to blame for bringing her here to the library after a series of unfortunate events? There must be some kind of hidden meaning to all this madness, and all she had to do is concentrate, focus, read everything she could, study the words as hard as possible, and eventually she would figure this whole Zen thing out.
Two hours later the young lady felt a gentle nudging sensation on her shoulder and heard a weary voice speaking out of nowhere, “Miss, Miss, the library will be closing in ten minutes. Miss! WAKE UP!” Jumping out of her seat the young lady looked around frantically thinking, “Where am I? What’s going on? Why is this woman yelling at me?”
Clearly none of the books had led to any sort of Zen-like epiphany (though they did aid in stimulating a much needed nap). In fact she could barely remember a single paragraph of whatever it was she happened to be reading prior to succumbing to slumber. Sensing the shadowy walls of desperation closing in on her, the young lady picked up her things, wiped the drool from her face, and dragged her weary body out of the echoing library halls and into the cold, bitter street. Why is this so hard? She thought.
“What am I doing wrong? Why has Zen forsaken me?” Lost in her dark internal world composed of failure and shame, she sauntered around aimlessly, having little regard as to where her path would take her.
“Young lady! Hey there, young lady!” Startled, she turned her head towards the source of this eerily familiar raspy voice. Lo and behold, there was the senile old man. Alive. Sitting on the same sidewalk bench that she had left him on. Waving at her with his toothless, infantile, though undoubtedly spiteful, grin. “Did you find the Zen you were looking for?” he asked, adding extra ‘cheer’ to his malevolent grin.
Burning with rage the young lady charged towards the old man screaming, “How dare you make fun of me, you despicable old fool?” The old man stared at her, expressionless. His eyes however twinkled with unadulterated delight and without delay his creased, spotty, poker face gave way to uncontrollable, childlike giggles. As if to cruelly wedge the knife even deeper into the young lady’s wounded ego.
This final act proved to be too much for her. In tears of hopelessness and despair she fell to the ground, threw up her arms and wailed, “Arrgghhhhh! I’ve had enough of this! WHERE FOR ART THOU ZEN???!!!????” Finally, she surrendered. Accepting defeat in her pursuit of Zen, the young lady collapsed into a bawling, overwhelmed mess on the filthy, concrete sidewalk.
Regaining his composure the old man stood up from the bench, grabbed his cane, and slowly hobbled his way to the sobbing human being lying helplessly on the ground.
Once the young lady had calmed down a little, with her screeching wails reduced to quiet whimpers, the old man bent over as low as he could go, towards her drenched, forlorn face. “Young lady,” he whispered, as she looked up at him with pleading, sorrowful eyes. “Would you like some tissue with your Zen?”
Zen is a school of Mahayana Buddhism that emphasizes the personal expression of experiential wisdom in the attainment of enlightenment through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition rather than an adherence to standardized theoretical knowledge.
‘Zen’ is used in this story metaphorically. You can insert God, love, or energy – basically any kind of belief in something greater than oneself. The point is that whatever one is searching for can be found, and already exists, inside, as opposed to outside, oneself.
njeri@parents.co.ke