Mornings in May: A Rededication to Studies

My friend Margaret recently wrote a lovely poem about enjoying an evening on her balcony on the Mediterranean island of Gozo, Malta. I was reminded both of a sort of stream-of-consciousness quasi-poem I wrote in March and of the richness borne of mindful watching and listening. And I lamented slightly, that this richness which grows deeper with practice has been somewhat missing in my life of late.

So the most difficult thing is always to keep your beginner’s mind. There is
no need to have a deep understanding of Zen. Even though you read much Zen
literature, you must read each sentence with a fresh mind. You should not
say, “I know what Zen is,” or “I have attained enlightenment.” This is also
the real secret of the arts: always be a beginner. Be very very careful
about this point. If you start to practice zazen, you will begin to
appreciate your beginner’s mind. It is the secret of Zen practice.

~~ Shunryu Suzuki Roshi

Thinking of my life of late I might say that “I have been too busy.” But, opening to these words by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, I might also say that “life has been busy, and I made the mistake of participating.”

It’s not that participating in life is a mistake; but excessive busyness is. Our society rewards excessive busyness and adult hyperactivity. We have odd phrases like, “shop ’til you drop” and new diseases such as workaholism, and it was only as recently as 1965 that the term “mid-life crisis” came into use. Our society is so strange, we even created a TV show where we can sit on our collective bums and watch other people shop ’til they drop (I’d swear the two guys in this episode were hopped up on crack, but then a lot of people on TV look that way to me).

On the other hand, idleness is also a mistake. Aristotle would call both idleness and hyperactivity vices. Industry, a somewhat antiquated term, would be the virtue lying between them. According to Ben Franklin, industry entails that we,

“Lose no Time. Be always employ’d in something useful. Cut off all unnecessary Actions.” *

Sounds simple enough. One of my favorite quotes of Nietzsche goes something to the effect of, “greatness requires a single-mindedness, a dedication to one and only one passion in life. To dilute one’s activities with many interests in many directions is to fall prey to mediocrity.”

Modern life, for all of its emancipatory qualities, is filled with the traps of mediocrity. Prof. Borgmann, in a recent conversation, referred to Missoula in particular as “Peter Pan Land.” Long ago one had to dedicate many years of work or have great talent in writing to get something published. Now all one needs is an internet connection.

Long ago one had to work long and hard or have the fortune of wealth to afford a quality camera, and had to lug the 20-40 pound device and accessories around with him to capture great vistas (or own a pet mule to do the lugging). Today children snap those same vistas on cell phones from the back window of their parents’ RV (and then text a friend and tweet about the whole thing).

Soon we’ll have a TV show about kids in RVs tweeting.

But these are not purely horrible changes by any means. They have not made us dumber or less creative. In my own case the ability to travel to England for education and to use the internet to get articles has been wonderful.

But at least sometimes these advances have made us distracted. The fact that I can take pretty good photos of some of the world’s most beautiful landscapes one day, enjoy Australian wine with Italian cheese the next, buy endless gadgets to accessorize my daily jogging, travel without limit, take up jobs ranging from accounting and computer technician to writer and professor, and so on has indeed led to much distraction and a shallowness of thinking.

I’m supposed to be writing a thesis. Can I just tweet it? Somehow I doubt the University of London would find that amusing.

My notes and completed thesis sections currently smack of mediocrity. My photos, while nice, are merely a hobby (to see great Montana photgraphy, see here). And my inherited flat feet will surely keep me from achieving greatness as a runner.

Living a full life, with hobbies, pleasures, and friends is necessary for the virtuous life. But allowing these to occupy the majority of one’s time is a vice. So I hereby rededicate myself to thesis work, not eschewing running or my love of wine, hiking or photography, but repositioning my studies at the center of my life.

Benjamin Franlin: The Art of Virtue