The Force of Habit

Beginning Zen students are often told to silence the mind. It’s a misleading instruction. As Bernie used to say, “The brain secretes thoughts the way the pancreas secretes enzymes. Thinking only stops when you flatline.” So, what do you do? You notice thoughts as they arise and return to your breath. And sometimes, just sitting, breathing, sometimes there is silence. And then something happens, and most likely, we call it thinking.

Shut up and listen. Be completely open. Just listen. Or plant a seed, ask a question, and then listen. It is like working with the Sage of the I Ching but without the I Ching. Working with the Sage for years as part of my morning practice, I would write my question in my journal before throwing the pennies. You do this and the pennies lead you to the Sage’s answer, although sometimes it takes work to recognize the answer. You learn with practice that the more honest your question, the easier it is to understand what the Sage is saying. You learn eventually that the Sage might be answering the question you were afraid to ask.

Maybe I hadn’t realized – it’s been many years since I gave up my penny practice – that sitting down on my cushion, I’m putting a question out there to the Universe. You might call it “God.” Julia Cameron calls it the “Great Creator.” I realized this morning that so often the question that I am putting out there is in the form of statement. “What will I write today?” The blog? Will I rewrite a story or my first novel? And on my cushion, answers arise. Until this morning, I have labelled this as “I got an idea.” This morning, it occurred to me, “The Universe has answered.” The voice of God? Julia’s Great Creator?

Then another thought came. “I hope I don’t forget this before I get to write it down.” That was not God worrying. That was Ken thinking. I smiled, let my thinking go, and came back to my breath. When I’d finished my meditation and my morning blood pressure check, downstairs putting up the coffee, I could remember only that an idea for a blog had come to me on the cushion. What was it? I was drawing a blank, counting scoops of coffee beans, when I remembered, The Caretaker’s Assistant. I should write that first while the voice of God is still fresh.

But I have a problem. I have been following Julia’s journaling instructions for years, and Julia says, “Journal first.” For a while now, I’ve been noticing a dilemma as I wrote my morning pages. Sometimes, I’m finding that what is going into my journal is what I want to write that morning as soon as I finish the pages. Per Julia, the journaling is always done longhand. Although there was time when I wrote first drafts in longhand and then transcribed them, my practice now for years is to write directly on the computer. Except for the morning pages. Transcribing is so time consuming. And my longhand is almost indecipherable. Recently, I've noticed that I was beginning a blog in the journal and just stopped, going on to another thought. There’s usually other stuff which needs airing. Then, morning pages done, I get on the blog idea. This morning, I thought, “Maybe I should do the blog draft first and then the morning pages.”

I could feel the anxiety of habit. I was imagining emailing Julia: “Is this okay?” It’s more than habit energy. There is also the energy of dependence on the teacher. I had to smile. I finished making coffee and wrote the first draft of The Caretaker’s Assistant, and then I did the morning pages. The sun is still shining.