Empty Studio Part II

Empty Studio Part II

Another Saturday sitting in an empty studio. My cushions and my sandals parked by the door, a bag with a notebook and some other items potentially useful for teaching an acting class that incorporates the stillness of Zen meditation and the release of energy into creativity and action.

Sounds like a great idea. Many people tell me that. Sort of like Zen practice itself - people love to read about it or hear about it; yet starting a sitting group is a very lonely proposition. You have to show up, and show up, and keep showing up. Do the sitting even if no one is there. And in the acting studio, that's what I do: fold up my legs, hold my hands softly in position, breathe and listen. Sangha is a precious jewel indeed. Precious, and rare.

Perhaps the only one who is really interested in practicing this is me; and maybe my business right now is in the zendo doing my practice, and not improvising with performing arts and outer path improvisations. Who am I kidding? There is nothing to proclaim. I have offered something, maybe something that really is only interesting to me - anyway, there is no pressing need for it. Clear, clear.

Maybe the problem is, I don't want to say goodbye to acting. Even though acting has said goodbye to me. The empty studio is an echo of a door that shut years ago. Yes, that's possible.

If you want to figure out what's going wrong in a situation, start by following what you want. That's the trail that will lead you to the fuckup eventually.

At Casey's downtown, Chris buys me a pint and tells me I need to shut up and listen to him. Meanwhile I'm thinking maybe we both ought to shut up.

Goodness, I've wandered for away from home. Maybe time to rest my voice for a while and let my scalp feel the sunshine.