Zen Chaos

The cloud cover turned the warm day humid and close.  My son, wearing his pajama shirt, shorts, and one fuzzy bear slipper, hung precariously from the monkey bars that span the top of the swing-set.  Dog number one barked at the neighbor.  Dog number two barked at dog number one.  I was up to my elbows in a week's worth of dirty dishes.  Ahh...a perfect zen moment.

I can hear the collective "huh?" as you read that.  Many people throw the word "zen" around when they need a synonym for sparse, uncluttered, calm, or serene.  We picture robed monks sitting cross-legged for hours, thinking about...well...nothing.  The chaos and cacophony of my life is the farthest from that picture we can imagine.  Yet these are the kind of moments that leave me thinking all is right with the world.  These are my zen moments.

I profess no expertise in zen.  I have never had a teacher.  I only know what I have read.  What I have discovered is that there is more to zen than quiet meditation.  A zen life is a life of humility, of labor, and of service.  Zen is about gratitude for the things we have.  Meditation is just the cream cheese icing on a sugar-free cake.

If you want to know humility, have children.  There is nothing more humbling than the realization that you are surrounded by small, unruly creatures over which you have no control and whose very existence is nobody's fault but your own.  To know true humility, take a three-year-old to a fancy restaurant.  (Be prepared to leave a really big tip.)   Robed monks have nothing on the average parent.

Did you know that those meditating monks are the same ones who scrub the monastery toilets?  They would probably be right at home with the dishes that always pile up on busy weeknights in my house.  One of the things that makes zen accessible to everyone is its acknowledgment of, and requirement to participate in, the mundane existence we all share.  We all need to eat, we all have to sleep, and we all make the toilet dirty. 

When I'm having a bad day, I find that making a list of the things I am grateful for really lifts my mood.  I silenced the dogs and provided two strong arms for my son to drop into.  I got a hug in return.  On my list that day, I was grateful for hugs, and that my children are healthy and whole.  I think of the mothers in Iraq and Afghanistan and Darfur who are burying their children, and I send thanks to the universe that I was not chosen for that life this time.  That day, my son had a face stained blue by an ice-pop and a foot blackened from running barefoot in the yard.  Those problems were fixed with a bath.  Some kids have problems their mothers can't fix.  I have much to be grateful for.

Even when my dogs are barking loud enough to wake the dead, I am grateful.  I am grateful for their unconditional love.  I am also grateful for neighbors who like dogs.

I would love to have more time in my life for meditation, and I don't think I'm going to find enlightenment at the bottom of the sink.  What I can find is a little bit of zen in the chaos, and a really cute little boy under a layer of dirt.  All is right with the world.