"These flames are cool and refreshing"
Harnessing today's chaos and crisis for the better you—and the better future—the world needs.
In 2018—i.e., when the world was already a dumpster fire—I wrote a Zen article about the “On Fire” cartoon by KC Green. A dog in a bowler hat sits inside a burning house, wearing a saccharine smile and saying, "This is fine." Though the comic is usually seen as a critique of denial and self-deception amidst political crises, I offered that maybe we could take this dog literally—that they really are fine, even sitting within a burning house, about to die. And fine, not out of complacency, inaction, or delusion, but because they've cultivated self control, clarity, and courage.
At the time, I drew on an historical account from 16th century Japan I had recently found and that frankly blew my mind. A group of monks was locked inside a tower and then burned alive without letting out a single scream. But before they died, they demonstrated their Zen realization to the satisfaction of their teacher, Zen master Kwaisen.
“For a peaceful meditation, we need not go to the mountains and streams,” Kwaisen said in response. Before they all died in the fire, he concluded, “When thoughts are quieted down, even flames are cool and refreshing.”
The fire that we knew two years ago has spread to many more hearts—already pent up and bursting after months surviving a pandemic—and into the streets of Minneapolis, Atlanta, Detroit, Oakland, New York, Los Angeles, and beyond, where buildings have literally burned to the ground in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder. The flames promise to spread even farther still, without a post-COVID return to normalcy or a solution to centuries of racial injustice in sight, continuing antagonism and failed leadership from our nation's highest offices, and a general election looming in November.
Would I still say that things are fine? Of course not. George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor are dead and that is not fine. People are polarized more than ever, jobs are gone, and cities are on fire and that is not fine. But despite all this and more, there are still ways for us as human beings to be fine.
(It is worth acknowledging that I have the luxury of writing as a non-Black person living in a Zen temple in Hawaii. It is quiet here, the tradewinds cool the air, and our small city had a 200-person vigil for George Floyd that, as far as I have seen, was not met with anything but aloha. We’ve been spared the brunt of COVID-19. We have one of the lowest rates of violent crime in the country. Our state population of 1.3 million is the most ethnically diverse in the nation. We have our Karens, but overall, white people are few in number here and mostly embrace or personify ‘local’ culture. Many here are frankly watching what's happening on the continent with some disbelief, not understanding what it’s like to live in a place where there is truly so little aloha.)
Two years ago, I talked about how we can be more like Kwaisen and KC Green’s dog in the burning house by training ourselves to be fine in a wider variety of circumstances, including through pain and suffering and even at the precipice of our own deaths. I emphasized the work to be done inside our own minds, training ourselves to not waste energy focused on what’s wrong even when it’s profoundly wrong. The focus there was on what we can control inside our own bodies, breath and minds. How to be much more strategic with the finite resources we possess in our bodies as we make our ways towards liberation.
This is still my invocation today, maybe even more so. One of my favorite artist-activists, Killer Mike, put it well a few nights ago. He said, "It is your duty not to burn your own house down for anger with an enemy. It is your duty to fortify your own house so that you may be a house of refuge in times of organization. And now is the time to plot, plan, strategize, organize, and mobilize."
Killer Mike did not just say plot, plan, and strategize, but also organize and mobilize. Organizing and mobilizing is what people are doing now in the streets and it is vital. It is also humbling. After COVID-19 took so much away—lives, routine, financial security, human touch—many protesters are plain spoken about how they are ready to die in this fight. If their deaths will at least mean black and brown people are not wantonly killed by the police, vigilantes, and the stranglehold of racial inequity, better to die fighting than hiding at home from a silent killer virus.
But as much as now is a time for action, it is also time to make ourselves refuges, not for just ourselves but also for everyone we encounter. We must fortify our bodies, minds, and physical environs for many more battles, as well as the hard work of building a better future. The work of racial justice and collective liberation is a long haul and needs you at your best.
This is not a call for parochialism and more self-isolation. For example, I live in a Zen monastery in Hawaii, but am still deeply engaged in social justice through my work, relationships, writing, teaching, and training. We each have our roles. We each have our moments and we will each get our turn. This is time for action, and it is also time for training and honing ourselves so that when our turn comes, we are ready to lead with a courage so strong and a presence so big that we take away others' fear and can see where on the horizon our better future truly lies. And this does take time, as well as extraordinary, sincere effort.
There is a Chinese saying: "The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is right now." If you haven't been training deeply for this moment, it's probably shown in wild feelings, overwhelm, disorganization, and exhaustion. The bad news is that this isn't going to be over any time soon. The good news is that this means you have time to start your training right now.
There is another metaphor that more of us may have a reference point now, after making our first tries at planting our own food and fermenting our own sourdough starters while sheltering in place during COVID. It's said that to best sprout mung beans, you need to put a stone on top of them. Something about pushing up against the weight of the stone makes the sprouts longer, shinier, thicker, and more delicious.
This is a useful metaphor when considering how we can best use the pressure cooker of an era we are currently living through. In response to seeing the worst of humankind, we are right now seeing the best of humankind—the Rahul Dubeys, Christian Coopers, aunties hugging cops, and police officers turning in their badges to take a knee with protesters. Perhaps the flames have broken open the possibility of our reaching our full human potential like the desert flowers that need wildfires to crack open their seeds. Maybe we can grow stronger and wiser now that more of us are recognizing and pushing against the weight of injustice, exploitation, and consumption on all of our necks.
Our training is calling out to start in earnest. It begs us to train hard so that we may surpass what we think we're capable of, even if what lies beyond our perceived limitations seems wildly superhuman—like finding even flames cool and refreshing. Let us begin.
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