Why Does Everyone Hate Zazen?

Over the years I have offered many kinds of classes at Yoga Garden.  Easy yoga, hard yoga, old people yoga, kids yoga, tai-chi, self-defense, healthy cooking classes, workshops on all manner of things, and for the most part these have all been successful and a lot of fun.

But one class consistently fails to gather students after three years on the schedule, and that is my weekly zazen class.  No matter what, that class is always sparsely if ever attended.

It's not that people don't try it, they do, but no one has continued to come for more than a few weeks.  Ever.

And I know it's not personal, because I have seen the same thing across zen centers and groups all over the world.  I can't tell you how many times I've found a zen center in a town I've visited, gone to sit, and been the only other person besides the leader.  It's a pretty sad state of affairs.

Brad Warner always quips that if just one percent of the people in LA who've bought his books actually came to his zazen sessions he'd have the place full to the rafters.  What is it about zazen that makes it so hard to get people to show up?  It's not like we're asking people for money or to do anything besides just sit.

I think the root of the problem is that zazen is fundamentally different from almost everything else we do in a day.  It's the only time in your life you are actually asked to do nothing.

This freaks people out to no end.  "What do you mean do nothing?  Surely you do something?"

Nope, you just sit there and be.  And it's incredibly uncomfortable.  It's not a territory that we have much experience in.  It's like being invited to a party where you don't know anyone.  It could be a great party, but you make excuses and skip it out of the fear that there will be some awkward moments.

For the first few years, zazen is awkward.  There's no discernible progress, little reward, and it kind of hurts your back.  Almost any other activity would start to pay off after a few weeks; you can play your first song, you can do a new move, you can create a piece of art, etc...

But zazen doesn't work like that.  Primarily because the more you strive the less progress you make.  There really is nothing like it.  Perseverance is important to get on the cushion, but once you're there you have to stop persevering.  This drives type As crazy and they give up soon.

That leaves the laid back people, and the truth of the matter is that they usually can't be bothered.  They don't feel that drive for self-betterment that gets them through the door of a zazen class week after week.  There are a lot more relaxing things to do than zazen.

So I'm not surprised that it's so unpopular.  But I am disappointed that more people don't find it as interesting as I do.  From the first time I did zazen, I recognized that it was a totally different way to use (or not use) my mind.  Zen meditation was a totally new way to experience the world and to find how I fit into it.

The history of zen is filled with hermits and old masters who retire to the mountains to finish out their years in solitude.  Sometimes I have the same dream.  Nobody cares about practicing zen, so why am I running around trying to get people into it?  Why not just look out for number one?  Who appointed me the zazen cheerleader anyway?

I'm kind of joking but kind of not.  It's a sad thing to leave a single person zazen class and pass bars that are packed.  Or see gyms full of people sweating and grunting to get their bodies in line without spending a second on their mental fitness.  

It just seems like everything is upside down sometimes.

Then again we are living on a ball floating in the middle of cold empty space.  That's pretty weird too.

A Pesky Question

"Paper or plastic?" seems like such an innocuous phrase, but it drives me to distraction sometimes. Usually because it is asked of me at only one place, at a local upscale supermarket near my home, and is usually mangled to sound something like "Pay-paa oru puraschteek?"

This is because it's almost always uttered by one of a host of middle aged japanese female store clerks with poor English.

It's not the bad pronunciation that bothers me. It's a whole different set of reasons.

First is that the only reason these ladies are pressed into saying these awkward and syllabically memorized phrases is the parade of witless foreigners who often shop at this particular supermarket. I'm sure that in the past each of them has had the experience of asking バッグは紙かビニールどちらになさいますか？(bagu wa kami ka biniru dochira ni nasaimaska?) and been met with a blank stare or the too loud "I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU" or "DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH" or possibly the most perplexing answer to "paper of plastic," "YES".

This kind of foreigner seems to abound around here. I see them in Starbucks (always and only Starbucks) ordering in obnoxiously loud English as if they were in the middle of Toledo and not Yokohama. They rarely venture from their little expat community and seem to have no interest in learning even the slightest bit of Japanese. This is really pitiful to me. I understand that many of them were dragged over here with their spouses work, but like it or not, they're in Japan and it seems incumbent to learn at least a little Japanese. There are people all over the world who would love a chance to learn a new language while being immersed in the country that speaks it. But these people seem to view it as a terrible inconvenience rather than an opportunity.

I'm not saying I expect everyone who comes to Japan to be able to talk politics with the old men in the park, just that by spending a modicum of time learning survival and everyday phrases their and the natives they interact with would have a much more enjoyable time.

I've seen this species of the mono-lingual ugly American in almost every country I've lived in, and the only thing I can think to explain it is our complete lack of second-language education in grade schools. Not only do these foreigners not know how to speak another language, they wouldn't even know how to go about starting to learn it.

So I know this is the background from which the cashier asks me in poor English "paper or plastic?" The last 6 foreigners before me didn't speak a lick of Japanese, so why should I?

But now I'm in a bit of a conundrum. Clearly, I speak English, so the obvious thing is to say "plastic." But this rankles me to no end. For one thing, I want to show the cashiers that not all foreigners are arrogant know-nothings, some of us really want to be here and learn more about the culture and language. Plus, I worked my ass off to learn Japanese and it's lame to not use it with someone who would obviously be more comfortable speaking their own tongue.

So my other option is to answer in Japanese, "ビニールでお願いします." (Bini-ru de onegaishimasu). Then we're into this weird parody conversation where the Japanese person is speaking English and the gai-jin is speaking Japanese. Plus, the lady has gone out of her way to speak to me in English, and I have successfully understood her, so why would I switch to Japanese? Isn't that kind of an asshole thing to do?

I feel like answering in English is supporting a system of coddling foreigners who should learn the language of the country they live in, while answering in Japanese is a slap in the face of the staff who are going out of their way to be helpful.

Sometimes I go with English and sometimes Japanese, but either way I never feel good about my choice.

The nice thing is that this whole situation dissipates when I remember to bring my eco-bag.