My brother Daniel is an actor. After a formal finish carpentry apprenticeship in his late teens and then a short stint of studies in psychology, he finally found, well, his voice in acting.
He has been an actor for some 25 years now, but this past summer, he left his troupe to pursue an uncharted path. There are no specific plans for what is next. He lives extremely frugally, with some state assistance and some family support. He has made a lot of sacrifices in his standard of living to make this choice. (His beat-up scooter car may die by the time I finish this entry.) This step away from acting is also motivated by a desire (being a single and primary parent) to spend time with his daughter who lives with congenital rheumatoid arthritis, but that is another story.
This story is about something that started within him a number of years ago. But first, you have to understand that what served Daniel well as an actor was also one of his challenges. He always had an edge to his pace through life. His foot would twitch. His speech was rapid. And sometimes excitement would trip his tongue. His myopic, single-minded focus expressed itself as impatience.
Several years ago, without telling anyone, with no big fanfare, he started sitting. Just sitting. Not thinking, not fidgeting, not hoping, not regretting. Just sitting. Meditating, if you will, but that implies focusing on something, whereas the Zen work he was doing was aimed at mind clearing.
It is not an exaggeration to say that I have never seen a person change so much in their lives. He began listening. Asking questions. Instead of arguing, he was quiet. Our family is quite dynamic and so when someone becomes quiet, it is almost more threatening. But that was not his goal. He just did not allow himself to be caught up in the whitewater of family turmoil.
This "sitting" had such a profound effect on his persona, that I began asking him questions about it with the thoughts that he had some answer for me that I could acquire. He was hesitant to answer. He said something like, "As soon as you talk about it, it can sound cliche. It's really just sitting. And if you do it, it provides the answers itself."
I did start sitting. Not with the regularity that he is sitting. And I have seen a profound effect on my life. My ability to accept life. Just as it is, however it is. But that is irrelevant to this story.
This story is about a completely stunning development in Daniel's life that I just found out about today. Apparently, it has been happening for some time now, but just like with the sitting, he doesn't talk about it. He is not the public emotional masturbater that I am with this blog.
Recently he mentioned that he has been writing. Writing, I asked? I was interested since I have never seen anything written by Daniel. His preferred form of epistolary contact is a postcard with a single funny comment. Yes, writing. I asked him to write me what he was writing about.
And in this morning's email, was a 1,300 word letter in which he wrote about how he was struggling to commit to what every artist struggles with: finding the time and energy to dedicate yourself to something which you wonder is worthwhile in the first place.
The overall direction of his writings are musings on Zen. But he explains that each musing is a mosaic stone; indistinguishable as to his broad views on Zen. And therefore, he was hesitant to send me anything. Not yet. Not until he had more stones assembled.
But the most stunning aspect to his letter was this: He is a fantastic story teller. This man who has never written more than a grocery list or smart-ass birthday card, was suddenly a brilliant raconteur. His letter was about how he discovered why it is important to dedicate ourselves to even the slightest whiff of inspiration, and he was as eloquent as Rilke in his "Letters to a Young Poet." And in his recounting of his turning point, no novelist could have written the passage more vividly or succinctly.
In the first part of his letter, he talks about having ideas and insights during his daily sit. He would scribble the thoughts down to elaborate upon in writing later, but never got around to them. The writing and expansion of those ideas was always "last on the list." So, he began rearranging his life to make room. And finally, he began writing.
And then there is this beautiful story in his letter:
He has been an actor for some 25 years now, but this past summer, he left his troupe to pursue an uncharted path. There are no specific plans for what is next. He lives extremely frugally, with some state assistance and some family support. He has made a lot of sacrifices in his standard of living to make this choice. (His beat-up scooter car may die by the time I finish this entry.) This step away from acting is also motivated by a desire (being a single and primary parent) to spend time with his daughter who lives with congenital rheumatoid arthritis, but that is another story.
This story is about something that started within him a number of years ago. But first, you have to understand that what served Daniel well as an actor was also one of his challenges. He always had an edge to his pace through life. His foot would twitch. His speech was rapid. And sometimes excitement would trip his tongue. His myopic, single-minded focus expressed itself as impatience.
Several years ago, without telling anyone, with no big fanfare, he started sitting. Just sitting. Not thinking, not fidgeting, not hoping, not regretting. Just sitting. Meditating, if you will, but that implies focusing on something, whereas the Zen work he was doing was aimed at mind clearing.
It is not an exaggeration to say that I have never seen a person change so much in their lives. He began listening. Asking questions. Instead of arguing, he was quiet. Our family is quite dynamic and so when someone becomes quiet, it is almost more threatening. But that was not his goal. He just did not allow himself to be caught up in the whitewater of family turmoil.
This "sitting" had such a profound effect on his persona, that I began asking him questions about it with the thoughts that he had some answer for me that I could acquire. He was hesitant to answer. He said something like, "As soon as you talk about it, it can sound cliche. It's really just sitting. And if you do it, it provides the answers itself."
I did start sitting. Not with the regularity that he is sitting. And I have seen a profound effect on my life. My ability to accept life. Just as it is, however it is. But that is irrelevant to this story.
This story is about a completely stunning development in Daniel's life that I just found out about today. Apparently, it has been happening for some time now, but just like with the sitting, he doesn't talk about it. He is not the public emotional masturbater that I am with this blog.
Recently he mentioned that he has been writing. Writing, I asked? I was interested since I have never seen anything written by Daniel. His preferred form of epistolary contact is a postcard with a single funny comment. Yes, writing. I asked him to write me what he was writing about.
And in this morning's email, was a 1,300 word letter in which he wrote about how he was struggling to commit to what every artist struggles with: finding the time and energy to dedicate yourself to something which you wonder is worthwhile in the first place.
The overall direction of his writings are musings on Zen. But he explains that each musing is a mosaic stone; indistinguishable as to his broad views on Zen. And therefore, he was hesitant to send me anything. Not yet. Not until he had more stones assembled.
But the most stunning aspect to his letter was this: He is a fantastic story teller. This man who has never written more than a grocery list or smart-ass birthday card, was suddenly a brilliant raconteur. His letter was about how he discovered why it is important to dedicate ourselves to even the slightest whiff of inspiration, and he was as eloquent as Rilke in his "Letters to a Young Poet." And in his recounting of his turning point, no novelist could have written the passage more vividly or succinctly.
In the first part of his letter, he talks about having ideas and insights during his daily sit. He would scribble the thoughts down to elaborate upon in writing later, but never got around to them. The writing and expansion of those ideas was always "last on the list." So, he began rearranging his life to make room. And finally, he began writing.
And then there is this beautiful story in his letter:
"I didn't start that way, but then I had an encounter that opened my eyes. At Nicky's birthday party in Hamburg, I met this Andonia. Remember? and she called at some point and asked if I wanted to come to Hamburg and watch her movie that she just finished producing. I agreed and drove up and watched the movie with her together in the livingroom on the TV. It was her first movie. Not my style, a little stilted, but considering it was her first movie, and written by herself, and directed by her, and she did all the editing, I was stunned. Considering all that, it was super! I asked her if it was a college thesis. She said no. But somehow for school, right, I asked? and in complete surprise, she said no. And why did you film it, I asked? She looked at me with big eyes and said: Cause I wanted to. She didn't say anything else. Cause she wanted to. That bowled me over. I was hit by a Mac truck. In the middle of the semester, between school assignments, lessons, working for a paycheck, cooking, cleaning, shopping, living, she just shoots out a movie on the side. Cause she wants to. On the drive home it consumed my thoughts and a few days later, during meditation, the realization came to me: there is no sometime, sometime is never, there is only now. I understood how, for years, I stood in my own way."
We read that and have to ask ourselves: Are we standing in our own way? What would we do, if we really wanted to?
We read that and have to ask ourselves: Are we standing in our own way? What would we do, if we really wanted to?
1 comment:
beautifully written..clarity of emotion..cadenced yet turns at the right moment........well done.
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