Clear sky, quiet joy

It was 2.08am when I last checked, but I feel very alert, very awake. For the past few weeks I have been waking up very naturally at 4am, and as long as I don’t have anything pressing in the day, I wake up and read or write. Then I go back to sleep when my body gets tired. It feels great to follow exactly what the body wants, though I must admit, it is rather a curious cycle of sleep / wake. In any case, since my wake is so awake, I might as well be productive with it. Perhaps I will start meditating.

Since the theatre production has ended my life has become a lot more spacious, my schedule a lot more flexible. This quiet joy is very good for my tai chi. Theatre is my yang; my doing. And now.. it feels wonderful to be doing “not-too-much”. Just some teaching, some writing, some reading…
It feels good to come home.

i.
Among other things, I have been re-reading Ken Wilber. First I re-read Grace & Grit: Spirituality and Healing in the Life and Death of Treya Killiam Wilber. It’s an autobiographical account, spanning five years. The author, a perennial philosopher, falls in love with his wife, they marry, they discover that she has breast cancer, and it’s an account of how they fought with, lived with, and grew with Treya’s cancer. It’s a very strong book, and raises many questions for me about life, healing and death.¹

This time around I was particularly struck by the practice of tonglen, the act of breathing in the world’s suffering, holding/purifying it, and breathing out. I am reminded of Hin-yan and I sitting in a park in Kowloon Tong a few months ago. We’d just finished an interview with RTHK about the show, and Hin yan pulled out the Apply Daily and showed me all the pictures released by the Tibetian Center of Human Rights and Democracy after the riots. It was difficult to look. Hin yan talked about how helpless he felt, and how he wanted to do something but he didn’t know what; that in this case there didn’t seem very much we could do.

Up until now I have remained rather conservative about the issue of Tibet; in the sense that I’m not very clear about what happened historically or currently, and in the news it seems that there are two propaganda machines: the West use this issue to bash China, and China, of course has its own stance about Tibet. And all this has really put me off confronting this whole issue altogether. I am sure that there are many other things that I ignore because it feels like too much effort and it feels as if I cannot do anything anyway, there is too much to care about.

The practice of tonglen – which incidentally, happens to be a Tibetian spiritual practice – involves breathing in suffering, and releasing love, healing and joy to the out-breath. I think my earliest encounter of “sitting in the fire” of conflict happened in Poland; being with and listening to people in a community that somehow had got themselves tied in a knot, and in the end, feeling that there was nothing practically I could do to help but somehow, trusting that my listening and my caring was of some use. It was one of the hardest things to do, to be empathetic and hold this suffering. To (using an expression from Arthur Mindell) “sit in the fire” of conflict.

Now that I am in a strong rooted place in my life, there is space for this. To open myself to the world and its tangles.

ii.
Now I am on to another of Wilber’s book, One Taste. It’s a journal of a year in his life, and compared to Grace and Grit, which is transcendental, this book feels banal. I confess that the first couple of times I read (skimmed) through it I wasn’t particularly impressed.

But this time around things are a bit different; partly because I am in the process of understanding the quiet, wonderful state I am in; and Ken talks a lot in this book about “One Taste” ; witnessing and awareness of the world. I don’t think my quiet joy right now is an experience of One Taste, in the sense that One Taste is a timeless state; the original state; so it cannot be caused or uncaused, it has no beginning or end. But what I have clearly has a beginning and end, and currently I am also trying to understnad the conditions that cause me to drop in and out of this peace. The other day (Thurs), for example, I drank a rather strong 奶茶 (milk tea) at a 茶餐廳 and for two days, I was completely out of whack from the caffeine. It completely fried my nervous system, I drank lots of water, I ran to get rid of excess adrenaline, but inside my center was going at 300 mph. My tai chi sucked.
Then last night (Sunday), I suddenly dropped back in. I think it had something to do with having the busy weekend behind me. No more classes and social engagements. The freedom to sleep in. And so I dropped back in.


In this state I am generally very aware. I notice my breathing more than usual, and the gentle circulation of chi up and down my spine. It is not One Taste, but it does seem like a type of witnessing, a very simple kind. Not a peak experience, nothing sharp and transcendental, but simply there; like clear sky.

When people ask me what plans I have, I’m really enjoying having no plans. This state is remarkably productive without aiming to be productive, and I suspect that it is also very important for my growth. Certainly good for my tai chi. And it feels important to consolidate, to go in and stabilize things; so that I am rooted when finally, it feels like time to do again.