Ordinarily I would not find a book about motorcycling and long distance travels very interesting, but from the moment I took this volume off the library shelf and started leafing through it I started getting deja vu experinces. I had read Pirsig's book back in the 70's sometime in conjunction with some humanities studies at the University of Minnesota that also mentioned the Erl King poem by Goethe. I had not followed up this initial enjoyment of the original book, and had no sense that it was important to do so. Pirsig's book was a classic, but it had long ago ceased to be relevant to my life experiences, which had moved past that period in my life. At that time I recall also having read and enjoying Christian Zen: A Way of Meditation By William Johnston and Reflections from the North Country by Sigurd Olson. I was also busy writing the haiku of despair. This grew out of my reading of Hyatt Waggoner's informative study, American Poets: From the Puritans to the Present, where I learned about the American Transcendent Despair tradition. One of the haiku related to an incident when I was eight years old where I suffered a broken nose on the playground at school:
Cross-eyed invalid
Bee at the end of his nose:
Baseball bat stung!
Of course, there was no bee. That is the first occurrence in my work of what turned out to be an ongoing symbol of the bee in a bottle, of which I eventually became free of. It is the despair that one feels that accentuates the fears that one feels about leaving your private world and attempting to enter the larger sphere of actions. That sounds very psychological, but in reality the despair was always there but subconsciously. That is how I would describe it. I knew I was different in some way, but not until later when I found out later at age 16 that my nose had been broken when I was eight years old, I finally knew exactly what that physical difference was. It became part of my consciousness or awareness. This is what enlightenment is about, as far as my reading about Zen and nature told me. That's why it all seemed to make perfect sense to me at the time. I was enlightened, but no joy bells started ringing. I needed something more, which is where going back to church comes in. Church had really been special to me in my youth. That is where I got my love for music and poetry and the Bible. This led to my own invention of Egoverbs, also during this same period. Egoverbs are proverbs in the first person, i.e.: I (verb) (something). So this period is not a mystery to me. I recall what was going on in my life as a student and a neophyte practitioner of creative literature.
It was 1978 when I visited a Zen shendo near Lake Harriet in Minneapolis and did zazen. I had no idea that Pirsig was the one who got Katagari Roshi to come to town to start the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center. It was there that I practiced spiritual exercises one evening, and later attended an actual Zen Buddhism service on a lovely spring day. It was fun to listen to the robed persons chanting Ooooooom in the lotus position on a rug, but this did not help me to find that for which I had prepared and come looking for, that I later understood as the search for a deeper Christianity. I had dokusan with Katagari sometime afterward where he advised me to let go of the psychical experiences I told him about. I felt that God was attempting to speak to me through them. I didn't go back to the Center again after receiving the spiritual counseling. There no longer seemed to be a purpose for doing so.
I eventually went back to my childhood Baptist church early in 1979 (Jan. 14th, the day of a superbowl) after I finished my studies. Nothing seemed to happen right away, so I quit attending the church at some point. About 40 days later, I experienced another strange bee sting event while delivering community newspapers on March 19th. This seemed like God urging me to give it one more try. Instead of just going to the morning service, I decided to go to a Sunday school class with persons of my own age. It became obvious to me then that I had to make some contacts to overcome my shyness. Just warming a pew wasn't going to be of any use. Once again nothing seemed to happen. I felt the despair flooding my soul again, but then I met this pretty Swedish girl in the library afterwards and she was of a very encouraging nature. She promised to help me overcome my shyness that I found myself confessing to her and I knew that she would keep her promise because of her wonderful spirit. The next day I felt like I was in love, but by Tuesday's arrival I realized that it was just an infatuation. On Wednesday I found myself composing in my head an inspired song called I'll Be There When the Morning Comes about this experience which began with the words:
People keep on hiding, never seeking, never finding;
Blind men keep on running, never see the future coming,
It will be there in the morning when it comes.
And the chorus:
I will be there in the morning when it comes
I will stand there amidst the chosen ones
I will be there in the morning when it comes
Yes, I'll be there, yes, I'll be there
On Thursday it had turned into a fantastical or fanatical conceit. This was the moment when I told God that I didn't want to be told whom to be in love with and that I preferred to do my own choosing of whom to date. That emotion was so sudden and strong that I felt the violence of a sword passing through my brain. It immediately went completely numb. I prayed to God to have my feelings restored, and eventually normalcy came back but I also felt a hot liquid dripping at the back of my skull after this, without cessation. That Sunday I returned to the library in the hopes of seeing the same girl again and inform her of the pain in my head that had occurred during the week and that I had no notion of how to make stop burning, but she didn't come that time. It happened to be April Fool's Day, and a special service later that evening had been announced with the theme of Christmas in April to celebrate some missionaries who were being commissioned to go to Ecuador as medics. I debated whether I should go back to church while in my abject state, but finally I pushed myself away from the dinner table, saying goodbye to my stay at home parents, and began the long trek back to the church, still not certain that I even wanted to be there. At the half way point, a chemical reaction happened in my brain and I felt like I was walking on a cloud for the remainder of my walk. It felt better than anythng I have ever felt before. When I got to church, everyone was singing Christmas songs and I knew all the words. I felt ecstatic and the pain was gone. The girl I met in the library came up to me and told me she was moving from her parent's in Stillwater to the vacated house of the missionaries while they were away. There she would live with two other girls from my Sunday school class and that they would soon be starting up a cell group of other people of our age group. I actually helped this girl move her things. Everything changed then. At age 27, I first had a real hope that my life was going to change in some important ways. I also got some counseling with a church psychiatist who set me up with the State Dept. of Vocational Rehabitation (DVR) for job placement. I was put on a waiting list to go to the Multi-Resource Center (MRC) to take aptitude tests and make decisions on occupational goals. It finally came down to a choice between getting training to become a janitor or a key punch operator. I choose the latter, but upon completion of the program finding work was hard to do. The market was already flush with key punch operators and I started to wish I had applied for janitor training. There was a residence for the handicapped that was located near the church which I knew about but never considered myself as a suitable candidate to work there. Then God put this guy at the bus stop that I started having a conversation with about his special shoes. That's when I got inspired to apply at the residence. First they offered me a janitor job, but I told them I would prefer to work with the residents, helping them on the late shift. I put about 6 to bed, and then got the same 6 up and dressed in the morning before leaving. In between there was time for reading or writing. For this initial experience, I eventually ended up finding work as a PCA (personal care attendant), helping people with cerebral palsy in their own homes, a special program of the state that I was one of the first persons to be grandfathered into, as they called it. This job lasted for the next 12 years, and sometime later I actually became a janitor for a church by my apartment. This wasn't as bad as I had imagined it would be. I got to practically live at the church, get free eats from events that I was scheduled to work, and take part in a lot of church activities. It felt very special.
Simultaneously, I also did temporary data entry jobs during these times. My first data entry position was with the City Water Dept in billing, where I typed all the quarterly and monthly meter readings. At a later time I worked for the Minnesota Press Club as a general office assistant where I met Paul Wellstone in person. For four years I became the main typist for PR Newswire Sports Score covering seasonal (fall and winter) high school sports, sending my scores, schedules, stats, and weekly standing via satellite to New York (AP) to be bounced back to local and out state media. All these jobs really built up my confidence in my abilities. And there were many other data entry jobs that I did that I don't have time to mention here.
I'm not sure what would have happened to me if I had not listened to the spirit of God and never got the chance to do the church thing one more time. I probably would have ended up in a nut house. It certainly wasn't an easy transition in the beginning. One of the side effects of engineering a coming out for myself was having the physical shakes in public. I would experience them for about 20 minutes while attending a church service, but gradually they became less and less until those too permanently went away and I became wholly comfortable while interacting with others in public. I had made it through my trials and people were so nice to me in the process. I felt the love of Christ enfolding me within my pain and sadness. My differences with the world seemed smaller, less inhibiting to me and with less cause to be concerned about. Other people had hurts too, I was discovering. I wasn't alone.
In initially glancing through this book, I learned that Chris Pirsig was murdered outside the Zen Center in San Francisco in November 1979. I came to realize that Robert, the local author who was his father, had a connection with Katagiri in the starting up of the MZMC in Minneapolis, but it wasn't until I reached page 168 that I learned that the Greek word for virtue is arete. I had called the period in 1978 "Virtue", but didn't clearly see the philosophical connotations. But that is basically what I was doing, learning about philosophy as I was also studying Art, Religion and Science. Those were the 4 things I was deeply interested at the time. But in the process I nurtured a greater appreciation for my love of mathematics. I now study the book of Genesis and find ways to make sense of the numbers, especially in regard to the Great Flood period. It never ceases to amaze me all the discoveries I've made in this regard in the past 4 years. Every day gives me another problem to solve. I consider myself a Christian Humanist now, and my special fields are the epics of Homer, Virgil, Dante and Milton, for which I have gained many insights over the years, and continue to evolve new insights on.
I don't know if everyone would like this book by Richardson, but I found it very soothing and relaxing, tying together the past with the future, and making understanding things that I had forgot I knew very approachable again. I think I would read this author again. His theme is a lot bigger than truth and seeming, with a broad spectrum of life presented, all of it worth studying and learning from!
Three books of Katagiri Roshi's teachings are available through bookstores:
Returning to Silence: Zen Practice in Daily Life, edited by Yuko Conniff and Willa Hathaway. Boston: Shambhala, 1988.
You Have to Say Something: Manifesting Zen Insight, edited by Steve Hagen. Boston: Shambhala, 1998.
Each Moment Is the Universe: Zen and the Way of Being Time, edited by Andrea Martin. Boston: Shambhala, 2007.