In the middle of winter, Jane Dobisz arrives at a lonely, primitive cabin armed with nothing but modest food supplies and an intensely regimented daily schedule that she thumbtacks to the wall. “3:15 A.M. Wake Up. 3:20 300 Bows. 4:00 Ma. 4:15 Sitting. 4:45 Walking.” And so it goes, for 100 days. Dobisz, inspired by her Korean Zen master’s discipline of long, solitary retreats, has decided to embark on a retreat of her own. The unfolding story of her experience is related here. The suburban-raised Dobisz weaves amusing anecdotes about learning to live a Walden-like existence — water comes from a well, wood needs to be chopped — with Zen teachings and striking insights into the miracles and foibles of the human mind when there’s nothing on hand to distract it. Entertaining and inspiring, the book is a joyous testament to the benefits that solitude and reflection can bring to all.
I read lots of books about solitude. When I finish, I’m usually yearning to repeat the author’s experience. Not this time. The author’s schedule on her 100 days in a primitive cabin begins at 3:15 a.m. with 300 bows, 300 more at 10 a.m., 200 more at each of 1:00 and 6:00 p.m. The rest of the time is taken up with sitting (meditating), walking ,chanting, and chopping wood. I cannot imagine, and that’s why the book was only a 3/5 for me. I wanted the author to help me understand her motivation but, and I’m certainly prepared to accept that this is my failure, I still don’t get it.
I doubt if I will ever have the chance to isolate myself for 100 days in a forest, but at least I can read this book and get some insights into finding more peace in myself. And who knows? If not 100 days, maybe 10 days, or 24 hours, or 1 hour every day. Tiny steps are better than no steps at all!
"The practice of Zen (as opposed to the study of Zen) is something altogether different: to give yourself completely each moment as it is - whether it is doing a mantra, stumbling in the dark, or feeling the fire's warm heat on your skin. It requires a complete suspension of disbelief, which amounts to trusting that there is something much deeper than reason and logic, and that if you follow it, you might just end up where you belong.
Bowing is the act of our small self bowing to our true self.
It sounds incredibly stupid, doesn't it? That a person should have to try so hard to simply be where she already is, yet this is my predicament.
The best way to boil water quickly is to put it in a pot on the stove, turn the flame up to high, and leave it there until the water boils. If you keep taking the pot off the flame, letting it cool down, and then putting it back on the burner, the water will never boil. In the same way, the idea in retreat practice is to turn up the flame of awareness during sitting and then leave it on "high" during all the other activities of the day, including walking, bowing, eating. and working. There are no breaks. Everything is part of the practice.
Reading One Hundred Days of Solitude was like having a mini-retreat in my home. I thoroughly enjoyed the book even though I'm not a Zen practitioner. I'm not sure I could make it through one hundred days, but I'd love to have a retreat by myself in a similar setting. This is a book I'm sure I'll revisit.
This was really good. So beautifully written. She is just like us with the same problems with staying focussed etc and she doesn't make herself wrong for it, she's just curious about it. And I finally understand from her explanation, or the place i'm in in my life, the whole doing it for the rest of humanity thing. It's about "cleaning up" and improving the small patch of humanity you occupy and have the remotest chance of actually controlling. I get it now. And the big You bowing to the little you....perfect. She mentions 3 zen books i'd like to read, one of which crossed my path a long time ago but i'd forgotten. Beautiful.
This book and I got off on the wrong foot. Dobisz's summary of her time in Nepal, including all the "exotic" things she saw there, was appallingly clueless - the family who invited her to dinner, for example, were not giving her a lesson in being unattached to material objects so much as impoverished and sharing their only staple: rice. And despite Dobisz's assertion, only a very few "Native Americans" lived in teepees as opposed to any number of other dwellings. Oy.
Once Dobisz began to talk about herself and her retreat things got better, although I enjoyed the entries about the days that went wrong (for some value of wrong) more than the ones where she followed her routine and found enlightenment. I did find wisdom in her musings, but I only felt connection when she admitted how hard things were, and how desperately she wanted to leave, or to eat, or to sleep on a particularly challenging day.
I could only read half of this. It was boring and confusing and I hated it. I was glad when I decided to stop because I couldn't keep track of the characters because they all had the same names. Boring and dull and I just couldn't get into it.
This wasn't the book I read. I read One Hundred Days of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I have no idea how this book got on my list, but I'm sure it's great if the title is any indication.