Getting Centered.

Last evening J and I went to a local building on Main Street which serves as the center of Zen Buddhist activities in our city. On the first Friday night of every month, those who like to drum, play flutes or shakers or whatever foregather to exercise their creative muscles.

Symbolically perhaps, the tall old building has a very tall and steep staircase, with a landing half way up for those who may be wish to stop for a while and contemplate the possibilities. There are two: go up or down. To reverse directions would be to give in to the laws of aging and gravity. Onward and upward.

At the top, we entered a room with a sofa, desk and some people from our group. After unpacking J's djembe, I sat for a while thinking about stairlifts and catapults and oxygen masks and pitons while the group discussed its next gig. In the absence of either of the two instruments I usually play (the dundun or bass drum, and the balafon or xylophone) I decided to get up and poke around and discover the Center.

There were two back rooms: one a kitchen with a small cubicle containing an empty cabinet (appropriate) on which a small Buddha sat, a box of matches and some incense sticks. The kitchen proper had a refrigerator and microwave, a huge coffee urn and a poster about how to make donations. A doorway led to the HVAC system/cleaning closet.

Retracing my steps, I passed by the drummers into a very large, high-ceilinged room with large windows facing the street with blinds drawn. A rectangle of mats and beanbag cushions was laid out before the benign gaze of a second, larger Buddha on another cabinet.

No lights were on, but the setting sun provided enough to see a parchment divider screen to the left. Behind it lay a large supply of mats and beanbag cushions.

Like Goldilocks, I decided to try on a few for size. I soon discovered that proper placement of these devices induces a very deep state of meditation, one that some cultures call "sleep". Meanwhile, the drummers beat out a number of patterns, some classic and some improvised. When you lie on the floor like that, the bass beats become particularly pervasive and hypnotic.

Time passed, and we made our way slowly down the mountain.

And from The OaklandNews comes this bit of Zen wisdom: Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me, for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me, either. Just leave me the hell alone.

This idea's a sleeper!

FINALLY! They’re recommending that you take a nap at work. Man! I’ve been saying this for ages, ever since I turned 40. In fact, some days I’ve been able to put it into practice.

I’ve considered dotting my closed eyelids with a big marking pen so I’d look more awake at meetings, but everyone knows I have eyes of different colors, so that would never work.

Of course, what they want is greater productivity. Well, maybe. But I’d settle for the memory benefits. Like being able to remember what it was I was going to do before I went to sleep.

People who work with computers have an obvious advantage over those who work in public service at a library information desk. And it’s unfair. If you’re a computer programmer, you can sit in front of a monitor for hours at a time without moving anything more significant than your index finger. It was programmers who invented the BOSS key, which is a shortcut that flips up a spreadsheet or something that looks like you're really busy as the boss goes by.

But that doesn’t do you much good if you’re in REM. So they came up with the timed boss key that allows you to set a timer so that your computer is browsing even though you are snoozing.

None of this subtle subterfuge would be necessary if employers were to read the news article above before it disappears (although Google or the Internet Archive will likely keep it around).

And for my colleagues on the Information Desk: Brace yourselves! Try these ! That way you won’t fall backwards when you doze off.

To sleep, perchance to dream

Every fall in Alaska the grizzlies gather along the McNeil River to participate in a banquet that they probably call "The Fillet Fest". We've all seen it on TV. Big brown bears, gorging on salmon until they can't hold any more. Soon, they go to sleep for the winter, except for the ones that can't sleep because it's too warm.

I guess I'm like that. When I go to sleep, it's usually after I've had my fill of fruits and vegetables and nuts and berries. And then I'll hibernate from about 11:30 p.m. until about 3:30 a.m. when I awake because the electric blanket is too warm. It was too cold when I started.

I think what I'm gonna try is one of those timers that lets you set multiple hours for on and off. In other words, crank the thing on at 11:00, and off at midnight. Then on at 1:00 and off at 2:00. Maybe that intermittence would cure or at least confuse whatever is in my body thermostat that makes me fluctuate into wakefulness.

Maybe if I dreamed I was a bear, watching for salmon and scooping them out and chowing down on them until I could hold no more, I'd sleep through the night, just like they sleep through the winter. But I've never been able to program my dreams. Some people can do this, and others remember (and many recount) every detail. I can't. Besides, I don't like sushi.

I think the dreams that matter are the ones you have when you are awake. They're the ones about which you can consciously say, "I have a dream..." rather than "I dreamed..."