The alarm clock read midnight. I groggily swung my feet onto
the knot-holed floor; it creaked as I felt my way through the
darkness. Outside the window, the faint stars barely illuminated
the encroaching forest. I lit a candle stuck to a plank of wood --
my altar -- and bowed deeply to the unsmiling Buddha next to it.
My knees ached as I positioned myself on a black cushion, legs
folded beneath me, palms up, back straight. Before lowering my gaze
to a spot on the floor, I caught the baleful stare of Bodhidharma,
an early Zen Master whose fierce, bulging eyes screwed into me from
a poster on the opposite wall.
The candle dripped and the night clung to its mysteries. The
darkness seemed to close in on the small circle of light, buffeting
it back and forth as if to squash it.
Suddenly, something passed over my head. I thought I was alone
in this cabin deep in the Maine woods. Fear gripped my insides like
a strongman's hand. It happened again. I could hear it coming
closer with each pass.
Here was a chance to truly practice Zen. Despite my fear, I
focused all my attention on the spot on the floor. I kept my mind
clear and devoid of thought. I remained unmoved by any emotion. The
passing thing came closer, like a whisper in my ear. Then something
scaly brushed against my forehead. Unable to stand it any longer,
the next time it passed I raised my eyes and found myself staring
into the glinty eyes of a foot-long bat as it swept across my face.
How did I get here, I wondered? Where am I going? And can I get
there from here?
I first began reading about Zen the day before I graduated from
college. I wandered into a campus bookstore and asked for a good
introduction to this curious, mystical philosophy I'd heard so much
about. I was given Alan Watts's _The Way of Zen._
The attraction was immediate. I was drawn to the mystery of it
all. Watts claimed there was a knowing beyond knowing. But, no one
could tell you about it; you had to discover it yourself. You did
this by becoming still....
Source File: crj0067a.txt
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