Chapter 1
Big Hand put down his pen and observed his classmates writing furiously to keep up with the lecture underway. He pondered how nothing had changed since under-grad. Graduate school was more of the same in terms of the soul forgotten. The problems of the obsessive-compulsive disorder were ubiquitous. Once, a professor told him candidly a grad student had to have the disturbing disorder to get through school. Obviously, the grad schools served as testing grounds for severe psychological derangements and aberrant personality disorders.
Big Hand could only think, "What have I done?"
What he had done was return again to the bourgeoise life, its confusion and suffering. He understood the problem, but the answer was elusive. Curiously, it appeared before long in a Walden bookstore he frequented.
He began to notice a unique grouping of books related to "Oriental Wisdom," and "Zen Buddhism." They intriqued him, puzzled him, called him out into the "beyond." In answering the call, he was preparing for "koan practice," the Zen paradox of illogic and illuminated thought, named for "satori," the momentary flash of truth. Similarly, he was preparing unknowingly for Buddhist life, specifically the Path of the Arhat, the so-called "self-realizer." Writers like D.T. Suzuki, Henry Thoreau, Herbert Guenther, W.Y. Evans-Wentz and Alan Watts, an ex-Episcopal priest, suggested Zen was important to life in terms of self-realization through satori. An old path of wisdom and compassion, Zen served the opening of the disciple if the path was walked anew. Enlightenment as realization or "satori" was quite possible.
After consideration, Big Hand's decision was to separate his life-stream into two major currents, i.e.medical arts and spiritual practice. He continued to attend medical school, where he enjoyed helping patients in clinical practice, while commiting to Zen Buddhism and other supportive Oriental practices, like yoga and meditation.
He allotted time for both. At night, when he went to the library to study, he opened and spread out his books on a long table for four, perhaps six, students. He wanted to avoid distractions at his table, the mundane lack of awareness which most students possessed, a lack of one-pointed attention. His method was to study one diagnosis at a time, like systemic lupus erythematosis, walking around the table and taking notes while reading different points of view about the disease.
Across from the table was an old leather chair. He worked in shifts of thirty to forty-five minutes, alternating medical teaching with spiritual instruction. The leather chair was his spiritual home. He was comfortable with the creases of age in the leather and his spiritual books stacked high beside him. He pondered how many people sat there like him, reading a good book or enjoying the quietude of the library. He even became moved to write poetry in the chair, if the muse inspired, before returning from the chair to the table for more study of "the wolf rash" and its reddening effects.
He took random time-outs from both occupations, moving outside to sit among the oak trees near the library, nothing more, just existing in the quiet presence of the trees. He noticed their roots, massive trunks and branches, as well as grains and whorls of bark and the characteristic shape of the leaves. He reckoned with the whole environment beyond the sturdy oaks...conversations, street noise, library doors opening and closing, the silence within and without. He was content, even if alone, life's changes awaited him for another day.
One activity he did not expect but valued was visiting gurus, teachers, swamis, yogis. Ancient wisdom said time spent in the presence of gurus was time well-spent, in terms of increasing merit and knowledge. He saw Sri Aurobindo, Swami Muktananda, Roy Eugene Davis (a disciple of Sri Yogananda), Swami Rama and H.H. the Dalai Lama. Guru concentration was agreeable: he would hold a picture of a holy man in his hand or find a framed favorite in order to contemplate with one-pointeded focus the teacher's essence and message perceived. Such were the days of adventure and exploration.
All in all, it was a peaceful, light-hearted time for Big Hand. Alone in his apartment, he would write poetry with a typewriter, re-watch all the Star Trek episodes with Leonard Nimoy as Spock anf listen endlessly to folk and modern music. He scheduled daily meditation and yoga sessions for himself. He jogged often around Audubon Park in New Orleans before jogging became a craze. He never neglected the library, however, to study medicine or read spiritual books.
Nevertheless, something was amiss. If you read 100,000 Songs I, you may have had an intuition. His new spiritual life was growing, from seed to seedling, with much more expected in the future. In "The Arhat of the Hinayana," the growth process in Buddhism was explained. The First Stage of the Path, or Hinayana, was divided into two Levels of Realization: 1) The "sravaka," the beginner disciple, usually monastic, a seedling who gravitated toward others like him. Such a person grew spiritually but slowly into a sprout, etc. Their interest was philosophical or intellectual with emphasis on personal awakening in the communal support of fellow disciples. 2) The second practioner was the "pratyekabuddha," the solitary buddha, a hermit by nature, a "lone wolf" in his spiritual progress. The first buddha was after cognitive knowledge; the second, the application of knowledge in a practical and realistic way.
In retrospect, Big Hand was bent the way of the pratyeka in the Hinayana. If friends entered his life, he enjoyed them but always went his own way if the relationship deteriorated into profanity or became predictable. Conventional life seemed superficial and mundane, even when positive. He needed friendship with transcendental meaning given the time together. Thus, the life of "normal" path fell easily away, like an autumn leaf. If alone, he amused himself or continued the path of knowledge with the strength and vigor of lessons learned. He was a young man gradually becoming one with the certitude of his self.
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