The Toolbox Fallacy

"I can't do X until I have Y."

That's the fundamental delusion, according to Ian Martin. Essentially, he suggests, we tend to get wrapped up in the notion that we have to have certain tools before we can do certain stuff. Some of them are literal, others figurative, but eventually the lack of them – perceived or factual – becomes an excuse to allow our aspirations to remain unpursued.

I stumbled over Ian's kyôsaku in the course of an unrelated surf, and clicked on it because it was only 7 minutes long. The message hit me hard, both as a writer and a monk. In both cases I've been grappling with lost momentum, and Ian's whack on the shoulder had just the right snap.

Not that I was entirely ignorant of this truth. In Zen we toolbox the crap out of each other. Gotta have a sangha, a centre, a master. Gotta have a quiet setting, or a sit-friendly schedule, or the proper zafu, or…

I sussed that trap early on, and took the hermit path around it. But I haven't completely set such fears aside. Especially in times when I can't maintain regular sitting. Then I tend to drop it entirely until conditions coöperate.

But the fact is, I can meditate wherever, whenever.

Will it always equal ideal zazen? Perhaps not. Is that failure?

No.

And actually, it's just this kind of thing that's often yielded the greatest results. Harder than controlled-environment sitting, sure. But you know what else is out of control?

The entire universe beyond my few square controlled feet.

If you can't practice out there, you're a prisoner. That's why they call 'em "cells".

But one thing Ian doesn't mention is that failure isn't the sole fear. There's also the scorn of others. And that scorn is inevitable.

I watch a lot of indie films. Really indie films. You know, the kind that are financed by friends and family and made in the director's parents' garage. Many are terrific. But you wouldn't know it from some of the IMDb "reviews".

It's astonishing how much people who've never canned a damn minute in their lives know about making movies.

In a similar vein, some folks get all Old Testament on my backside when they hear I practice alone. I even catch accusations of fraud. (Dude. I said I practice alone. I didn't order you to.)

My point is, if you pursue your ambitions without the toolbox, you'll be scorned down to your waraji. Behind your back and in front of your back and all around your back.

Because holy crap it offends some people when their expectations aren't validated.

And those same people tend to be cocksure and outspoken. Somewhere in there is insight, I feel sure of it...

Anyway.

What I want to append to Ian's excellent wake-up call is simply this: Whiners gonna whine. I need to remember that.

Because others will definitely sneer. At my writing career; my monastic practice; the fallibility of my nature and judgement; the new workbench I just built.

And except for that last one, they lack authority. (Shop-types smirk. I'll have to give them this one.)

So I'm with Ian. If you don't have a chainsaw, use a hatchet. But chop that wood.

(Photo courtesy of Unsplash.com and a generous photographer.)