Saturday morning; up as usual for 6:00 AM meditation, final packing up, one last breakfast with Dr. Yang and the boys, and then it was time to fire up the SabBatmobile and drive off into the Pacific mists once again, back to "the matrix" as Dr. Yang might put it, of 21st century America. (Though I should admit that I write this from my staggeringly lovely lodgings in Oceanside OR -as evidence I present the images on this post- still on sabbatical. I'm hoping to forestall full reentry into the matrix for another couple months at least.) After three weeks I had pretty well acclimated to the rhythms of the YMAA Retreat Center, rhythms that exerted a definite sort of gravitational/inertial force I had to shake off. It is a remarkable place, they are remarkable people; I will be forever grateful for the patient attention Dr. Yang paid to my form, technique, and to my questions, and for the warmth, hospitality and camaraderie extended to me by everyone at the center, guests and all. But the truth is that at heart, I'm a restless spirit. A strong current of wanderlust roils just below the surface of even my most sociably comfortable self, providing an ever-ready energy that makes it relatively easy -even pleasurably exhilarating- for me to "break free" of... whatever. What I leave behind and what I'll find up ahead, while important stories in their own right that mustn't go unattended, are nevertheless irrelevant to this particular high; the exhilaration derives directly from the transition itself, the journey between worlds, sparking across a synapse the size of a life story.
So, I don't think I could be happy living a monastic life of deep commitment to an ordered community. Let's just say I "have commitment issues". I prefer to cast myself as The Wandering Monk, a benevolent troubadour/ shaman who, while not belonging perfectly to any of them, moves easily between the realms of "the matrix", the natural/animal world, the arts, the monastery, and the university, by utilizing the dark and ancient art of deep improvisation. A peaceful itinerant tinker/teacher of voracious curiosity, with a handful of certified specialties, a vast store of little bits of knowledge from here and from there and from all over the map, all wired up together in a completely unique, random sort of network in his head, and a strong natural inclination to share what he knows. That just sounds and feels right to me. My natural habitat, my meta-calling. I think I'll think that's who I think I am for awhile. (I just knew all those acting lessons would come in handy!) What's the risk? Yes, it's an embarrassingly 21st century geeky way to think, I grant that; create from your deepest self-impressions an "avatar" of your ideal self, and then live it. But so what? He sounds harmless to me, and hey; we're dealing with the matrix, remember? I can try to be whatever I please, just so long as it doesn't hurt profits. Or prophets, for that matter. And as long as he's not also useless as well as harmless, why not? The TinkerMonk. (Monktinker? That's no good. Like I said; a work in progress.)
And I do want to note that I'm quite satisfied with how my main intention -to revitalize and tune up my own qigong and taijiquan practice- has been achieved. While still (and ever) the skeptic, I do understand the concepts and techniques of harnessing qi energy on a much deeper level than when I arrived three weeks ago. The intensive, daily training with Dr. Yang himself was every bit as enlightening as I could have hoped for, and I will surely find a way to return for another stay of at least this long, or longer. But to afford that. I'll have to rejoin and work the matrix for awhile. And that's cool; I like my matrix job just fine at the moment, so going back into that world will not be a hardship. Though I will state clearly and for the record here what I've been saying, both in my head and aloud, for years; I belong in the Pacific Northwest. I've felt this way since the summer of 1975, when I first hitch-hiked from my home town in western Minnesota to the Olympic peninsula, the first of what was to become several visits to this part of the world.
This visit has crystallized my determination: I hereby pledge to actively devote myself to steering the trajectory of my life to a total relocation to the Pacific Northwest, somewhere in the coastal range, from Northern California to Vancouver BC, but most preferably within easy distance from Portland OR. Even if it means a fairly radical reordering of the basic infrastructure of my life. Into every stable system must occasionally come a disruption -a fire, a hurricane, an asteroid, a plague- to jump start and re-invigoration of the engines of evolving life, and this won't be the first time I've put a match to my "settled" life. But I've learned some things along the way, and at my age, with my family responsibilities, a controlled burn makes more sense than a wild conflagration. I'll need a plan this time. But I'm on that.
I entitled my very first Evolutionistas! blog post The Sabbatical Search For...? Have I maybe found it? Better sleep on it; probably won't seem like such a good idea in the cold light of the matrix's morning sun. But gotta stay at least one step ahead of the machine. I'm not yet so enfeebled by my years spent in this contest that I can't manage at least that, for awhile longer.
All images captured by Scott Stroot at Oceanside Beach,
Oceanside OR, using an iPhone.
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