260! (Induction begins...)

Well, to say that the low-carb thing is working is minimizing it.  And I haven't even been doing it properly.  Well, it's now time to start, all proper-like.  But first, a few pictures.

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That strapping lad to the right is me, circa 1982 or '83. I was about 14, and a freshman in high-school.  Tubby my entire life, this was me at my most healthy.  Ever.  I was playing freshman football (nose-guard / defensive end) until I tweaked my knee / ACL.  I never got to play an actual game under lights, but the exercise and weight-training helped get me in the best shape in my life up to that point.  I was also in swing choir, and was doing a lot of dancing.  Additionally, we had a 24' above ground swimming pool in our back yard.  I swam daily.

This pool is a very formative part of my life's picture.  Shortly after this photo was taken (on July 31st, 1983) I dove "wrong" into that very pool and impacted the bottom with my full body mass directly on my head, shattering my C4 and dislocated my C5 vertebrate.  Instantly paralyzed, I drowned.  That incident is a different story for a different time, but it lays the groundwork for the next 27 years of my life.  I went from a BMI of about 16 to 26 or so in a matter of weeks as muscles atrophied and lack of mobility quickly converted muscle tissue to fat.

To say that I've struggled with my weight since then is such an understatement that it's almost laughable.  The short form is this: I have always comforted myself with food.  Always.  And the years and decades that followed only saw that coping mechanism grow and grow.  Frankly, it grew in exactly the same proportion that my gut did.

Fast forward a few decades. It's now 2008.  I'm a vegan, and have been for three years.  At one point I was a 290lb vegan.  Now, I want to make this very clear: veganism is great, and practicing it really helped me understand food better, and it also helped me sharpen a few very useful cooking and baking skills.  So I want to reinforce that it wasn't veganism or vegetarianism that kept me fat.  It was me alone who did that.  This picture is me at the lowest weight I'd been at since highschool: 253 or thereabouts.  I'd been dieting (low-fat LCD) and exercising pretty regularly, including some pretty strenuous back-yard and construction work on the house and yard that my then-wife and I'd just moved into.  I was pretty happy about things, and about my progress, although I'd slowed in the weight-loss department recently due to a bit of a carb-laden blowout 40th birthday weekend in San Francisco.  Some upsetting personal news when I got back put me into a bit of an emotional shock, and obliterated my appetite.  I went from 258 to 253 in about a week.  The strife resolved, and I relaxed and started feeling a more normal appetite return.

I'd held a goal of hitting 250 for quite a while, so getting this close was a near-victory in and of itself.  And what does one do when victory seems within sight?  Why celebrate, of course!  So, I started getting lazy (or more correctly, I started eating a more reasonable amount of calories again, since frankly I'd been starving myself up until that point).  Refined carbs were back, and the weight started coming back on.  Quickly.  I'd missed my goal by three pounds,  Three pounds!  I'd never been that close to that goal in my adult life.  I got close.

Then life changed.

In late 2008, a slew of things happened that made life vastly more challenging than it'd ever been before.  My estranged step-daughter returned from California with a raging heroin addiction, and came to me for help in getting clean (something I fortunately or unfortunately have skill in myself).  My relationship with my then-wife had been in a state of flux for the better part of six months, and this was presenting its own challenges.  In early November of that year, I asked my partner for a divorce.  While amicable as could be hoped for, it was still emotionally devastating.  I was now 41, with an addicted kid, heart-wounded, unemployed, with no prospects, no resources, and very little direction.  I remembered "celebrating" Christmas eve (not that I observe Christmas) by eating a half-pound of brie, a quarter pound of smoked gouda, and a box of crackers.  By myself.  It got worse from there.

I stayed in the house with my step-daughter (hereafter referred to simply as "my daughter" because I consider her so and always will), slowly going through the accumulated crap in my life, trying to figure out what in the hell to do next, where to go, how to live, and getting progressively more depressed.

In January of 2009, I applied for residency at Great Vow Zen Monastery (the monastery my sangha operates in northwestern Oregon).  I thought this was a brilliant idea.  As a resident, you are only required to contribute towards the cost of your food (about $500 a month).  I could afford that.  Cheaper than renting my own place.  It'd give me time to work on my issues, my stress, and my zen practice (which had become increasingly more important to me the year prior), lose some of the weight I'd put back on, and possibly save some money.  I applied for residency before I'd ever gone on retreat.  That was a less-than-skillful decision on my part.

In early March of 2009, I went on weekend retreat.  This retreat--Beginner's Mind--while calendar short, was long on experience.  One thing this retreat taught me was that I was in no way, shape or form ready for monastic life at Great Vow.  I was back up to about 290, and simply couldn't cut it.  I remember the heart palpitations as I walked down to the dining hall for breakfast.  I remember the constant sweating, the dizziness as I stood up from my chair, the near-black-out I had after walking kinhin.  At the closing circle of the retreat two days later, when it was my turn to share any insights I'd had, I shared this: "I know I'm not ready to live here.  Not yet, anyway..."

-To Be Continued-

285 (care of the sangha begins with me...)

Been having a slightly better time of it lately.  Body acceptance is still a challenge, but I'm trying to be kind to myself about this.  Going to try a walk today while it's sunny.  That may be a bit of a challenge, as I spent all day yesterday on my feet cooking a meal for about 25 people at the Intro to Zen Practice class.  The food was hugely successful, and I received many thoughtful and enthusiastic compliments, which is always nice and gratifying.  But I find it so queer; I can feed others so well, but when it comes time to feed myself I don't take as much care.  Why is that?

Just so's you know, this blog will be delving (or devolving, depending on how one looks at it) into Zen as well.  So, you've been warned.

Dogen-zenji, in his Tenzo Kyokun (or "Instructions to the Cook"), takes special care to reinforce the importance of the inter-related nature of food, mindfulness, and service.  Of all the writings of Dogen, this one I affilate with the most.  Admittedly, if you were to ask me a year from now, after my practice has yet deepened even further, it may be something else, but the Tenzo Kyokun really jumped out and grabbed me.

From ancient times communities of the practice of the Way of Awake Awareness have had six office holders who, as disciples of the Buddha, guide the activities of Awakening the community. Amongst these, the tenzo bears the responsibility of caring for the community's meals. The Zen Monastic Standards states, "The tenzo functions as the one who makes offerings with reverence to the monks."

Since ancient times this office has been held by realized monks who have the mind of the Way or by senior disciples who have roused the Way-seeking mind.  This work requires exerting the Way.  Those entrusted with this work but who lack the Way-seeking mind will only cause and endure hardship despite all their efforts. The Zen Monastic Standards states, "Putting the mind of the Way to work, serve carefully varied meals appropriate to each occasion and thus allow everyone to practice without hindrance."

Well, I'm certainly no realized monk.  I guess I get close to "senior disciple".  I had tea with one of our most senior students and sangha leaders this past Friday afternoon, and she said "Welcome to the roll of Senior Student!"  I guess that's how that happens here in PDX.  You find out over coffee at a little funky hole-in-the-wall that you're suddenly farther down the path than you yourself thought.  Hrm.  Anyway. [/digression]

But it does strike me how very important this food practice is.  It may very well be the most important part of my personal practice.  I really can't ignore these inter-twining issues any longer (which is why this is a double-blog post here and at SOTW).  As Dogen-zenji clearly states: "Those entrusted with this work but who lack the Way-seeking mind will only cause and endure hardship despite all their efforts." If you take that from the broader context of sangha service and simply turn it towards a service of a sangha of one--me--it still holds completely true.  If I entrust myself to my own care, but lack (or forgo) the Way-Seeking Mind, I will only wind up hurting myself and my progress in all areas.

This morning I laid in bed and practiced taking my final breath.  I felt the clinging arise.  Taking a deeper breath than I normally would, and exhaling more slowly.  It wasn't a rellishment of the breath so much as a drowning man grasping futilely at straws.  I thought about how many years it would be before this practice would be put to the test.  Will I still be grasping?

I then thought about all the people yesterday that came to me, that took time and effort to tell me just how much they enjoyed the food, the flavors, the colors, the creativity, the obvious care and effort.  Even my fellow students and friends took special care to express what a joy the food was for them.

I believe it was Ven. Thich Nhat Hahn that said--in essence--that the two most important practices are breathing and eating.  After that, everything else.  I think maybe it's breathing, eating and dying.  Somehow, these three things are the most important things in our lives.  I really want to understand better how they are interconnected...

266-ish (again, again)...

The changes I've been making are once again working. It's always the two things: diet and exercise. Always. I have been riding the exercycle almost every day. 20min sessions. Typically at least two sessions, but my stamina is back up, so often it's three, so that's 60min on the bike. It's beginning to make a few funny sounds and some grinding, so I think maintenance is in order. The last thing I need is for that thing to "grind to a halt". The rains are here now, and soon it will be really hard for me to get out of this flat, so that bike will be an indoor life-line to exercise when I can't get out and walk.

I'm back to having more energy, which is nice. It's amazing what that 15lbs feels like on me now and what it does to me. I'm really looking forward to getting back into the 250's again. My "goal" is the same: 250 by the new year. That's actually pretty reasonable (again). If it's so damn reasonable, then why haven't I ever made it? Hmmm?

The 266 may or may not be real, but at least is appearing to be for the past few days. I've had a few "cheese parties" the past three days or so, but at the same time, I've been very conscious of what I've had, and make sure to do 60min bike totals the days after. Fortunately, the cheese is now gone... ;)

Interestingly, my sensei hit me with something this past Sunday while doing my sanzen interview. I'd told him that I was doing okay, and wanted to ask him if I could start practicing with a koan. He said "I understand why you want to, but right now, I think the best thing for you to do is start being mindful of food." This really struck me, because I had actually begun that very practice about a week before-hand. "If you want to couch it in a koan form, ask yourself this: 'Who is it that craves? Who is it that hungers?' Explore that..."

And that is a very powerful practice, and one that I have wrestled with my whole life. It will be interesting to see where it leads me. I have an intellectual answer that jumps to the front of my mind, but as is typically the case, it's almost always the "not right" answer.

I am signed up for a week-long seshin the 3rd week of November. It's a "generosity seshin", and everything eaten is donated. I plan on making 48 seitan sausages (both links and patties) to contribute, along with dry goods.

I am looking forward to the ōryōki meals again. It's so nice to eat this way. Eating as a team. Eating as one hunger, with all needs met by your dharma brothers or sisters handing you everything you need, and you passing it on. All you have to do is focus on the sensations and flavors, and rest in the support that the sangha provides. Talk about gratitude.

This kind of generosity is more humbling than I can possibly describe....but know I deserve. That's because we all deserve this.

How sad that we have allowed ourselves to forget what is truly our birthright: Health, happiness, peace, joy and the support of family/sangha. I won't lie and say that I'm not looking for the weightloss aid that a week at the monastery will help out with, but honestly, as nervous as I may be about my first week-long seshin, what I look forward to the most is simply being held in that great vessel--that safe place--where, no matter what, I will be with those who love and care for me, and support me simply for who I am, and my willingness to be there as part of something greater than any of us alone. Everything you need is there, and in just the right amount. Truly. "Just enough..."