How I Practice (a mini manifesto).

In 1974 I began to do sitting meditation… I studied Zen formally with Dainin Katagiri Roshi at the Minnesota Zen Center in Minneapolis. Whenever I went to see him and asked him a question about Buddhism, I had trouble understanding the answer until he said, “You know, like in writing when you…” When he referred to writing, I understood. About three years ago he said to me, “Why do you come to sit meditation? Why don’t you make your writing your practice? If you go deep enough in writing, it will take you everyplace.” - Natalie Goldberg (Writing Down the Bones)

At the beginning of last week’s first session with our creative practice students, we of course, went around the table introducing ourselves to each other – saying our name, what our creative practice was, and what we hoped to get out of our time learning together.

This was as much an exercise for the two of us as it was for the course participants. And not an easy one at that. I had been wondering all afternoon whether I could possibly talk about these things without having to recount a long-winded history of the various incarnations of my arts practice, full of qualifying tangents, lashings of guilt and regret, and far less than complete conviction.

Amazingly, however, when I opened my mouth to introduce myself, a series of concise and eloquent sentences flowed forth, ending neatly with what I finally knew (without a shadow of uncertainty) to be the truth:

“I have come to realise that my business is my creative practice – no less… and the thing that I most want to get out of our time together, is a deepened exploration of the diversity and plurality of the very definition of what it means to be an artist.”

Okay, maybe I wasn’t quite that eloquent. But you know what I’m saying.

When we’re coming from a place of presence and mindfulness, business can in fact, be the highest form of arts practice.

But I’ve since realised that it goes much further than that.

Many different interpretations of the word ‘yoga’ have been handed down over the centuries. One of these is ‘to come together.’ ‘to unite.’ Another meaning of the word yoga is ‘to tie the strands of the mind together’… Yoga attempts to create a state in which we are always present – really present – in every action, in every moment. - T.K.V. Desikachar (The Heart of Yoga)

As I left yoga a couple of mornings ago, I was struck by a memory from my early twenties (perhaps even my late teens) when I was studying acting at VCA.

Yoga was a core part of the curriculum, and by that point in the training, I had reached a place where my subconscious was impatient to throw the floodgates of my mind open to the philosophy and wisdom that was being bestowed upon us.

“Everything you do,” I remember the teacher saying one afternoon while we were hanging out in prasarita padottanasana, “is Yoga.”

While I liked the idea of this concept, I only truly came to understand what this phrase meant much later onwards, through the consistent practice and study of performance.

I was fortunate to have been trained under acting masters whose emphasis on meditation as a foundation for the understanding of performance was primary. I spent the first half of drama school stressed out of my mind because I couldn’t get into “the zone”, and almost the entire second half, blissed out of my mind, because I never left it. I finally came to understand that the place from which one can begin to practice art is neither forceful concentration, nor is it being constantly stoned on theta brain waves.

It is a state of calm clarity and peaceful alertness. It is a quiet mind from where we can either enter into the practice of meditation, of physical asanas, the creation of art, or any other thing imagined or unimagined by humankind. There is nothing passive about this state. In fact, it can be highly charged and wildly energised. It embraces the dualities of being grounded yet lifted, still and infused with movement, expansive and imperceptible, all at once.

“Another classic definition of yoga is ‘to be one with the divine’… when we feel in harmony with that higher power, that too is yoga.” – T.K.V. Desikachar

And it embraces the greatest duality of all – the one of self as individual and self as everything. As God. As spirit, magic dust, quantum particles, creative genius, collective consciousness, or whatever idea works best for you and your particular beliefs – as that.

It is the understanding that in our individual natures, in our individual lives here, in our bodies, in our thoughts, and in our perceptions of reality, we are in fact, indistinct from everything else.

“In reality, all things and creatures are one with our maker – just as in the material world, all elements consist of atomic particles, yet they manifest themselves in infinitely different forms. Whenever we experience ourselves as separate from that power of Oneness, fear enters.” – Chin-Ning Chu (Thick Face Black Heart)

Big stuff, I know – and not something that everyone will necessarily nod along knowingly to, let alone dare to consider. I certainly didn’t when I first lighted upon the concept, and broached its understanding with my weenie brain and massive ego! Oh, golly have I fought  for a mere glimpse of this understanding.

“We begin where we are and how we are, and whatever happens, happens.” - T.K.V. Desikachar

And sometimes I completely forget. (Usually when confronted with the prospect of a new pair of earrings, a bottle of shiraz, or a rock and a hard place.) But I’m getting better at remembering these days. For now.

And that’s the thing about practice, isn’t it? It’s just that: practice. You keep doing it, and doing it, and learning more and more, delving further and more deeply at each breath, each step, each heartbeat. Mastery becomes not a thing to achieve – not the opposite of failure – but its beloved twin: a process that you are enfolded within, constantly.

And however difficult sometimes, I continue to trust it. Fundamentally because I know it to be true. But mostly because I know it makes things work.

It makes more than just my art and my business work. It makes my marriage work, and my friendships more meaningful. It drives the choices I make, the way I approach dilemmas, what I eat, how I breathe, when I exercise, and how I lay down to sleep at night.

This understanding – this holistic approach to living, this peace, this mindfulness – is both a creative practice and yes… a spiritual practice if you like. And it makes things work.

Is it ‘I’ who draws the bow, or the bow that draws me into the state of highest tension? Do ‘I’ hit the goal, or does the goal hit me? Is ‘It’ spiritual when seen by the eyes of the body, and corporeal when seen by the eyes of the spirit – or both or neither? Bow, arrow, goal and ego, all melt into one another, so that I can no longer separate them. And even the need to separate has gone. For as soon as I take the bow and shoot, everything becomes so clear and straightforward and so ridiculously simple…’

‘Now at last’, the Master broke in, ‘the bowstring has cut right through you.’ - Eugen Herrigel (Zen in the Art of Archery)

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I’m going to be posting regularly about how to practically apply the principles of Creative Business as holistic (and art) practice to daily life and work. So, if you’ve got a specific question (or questions) that you’d like answered in a post, or just something you’re curious about, please leave a message in the comments below.

And if this has got you thinking, please go ahead and ‘like’ or share on Facebook, or tweet the article on Twitter.

With sweet peace & productivity,

Ming-Zhu. xx