A Writer’s Work: Say “Wow!”
I’ve always loved the “beginner’s mind” Zen story that goes something like this:
A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor's cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. "It's overfull! No more will go in!" the professor blurted. "You are like this cup," the master replied, "How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup."
I’m as protective of my various opinions—on how crusty bread should be, how far to jut out your chin when denouncing the opposition party’s political platform, why you should wear black because there isn’t a darker color—as the next guy. I’ve gathered those opinions over time, worried over their posture, tried coloring their roots when they have gone a bit gray. But having a stance, an answer and an opinion on everything can be damn tedious sometimes. Sometimes you just want to say “Wow! Now that’s something!”
So when it snowed in Watsonville, CA on my deck this past Saturday, a deck that hasn’t seen snow in all my 12 years here, it boggled my too-settled managerial mind, and made me go “Wow!”
That’s a feeling, a way of looking, that writers need; it’s a valve opening in your imagination, it’s dropping the opinion suitcases so you can sprint without the weight, it’s room for the fresh taste of the tea.
Snow in Watsonville. Wow!
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Oscar Wilde said: “One can give a really unbiased opinion only about things that do not interest one.”
Torn away from my snow-covered Iowa roots at a tender age, to live out the remainder of my days in the relentless sunniness of Southern California, all I can say is, “Snow! WOW.”
I’m so envious of you guys, and pleased to see that the potted plants on your patio look even more desperate than the ones on ours.
Comment by Annie Dennison — March 1, 2011 @ 12:14 pm
A.D., having grown up in Southern California, where snow is something that gives Charlie Sheen that runny nose in his TV interviews, this was a startling thing.
As for those “potted plants,” no, no—those are all radio receivers and listening devices, posing as plants, to protect us from the alien transmissions.
Comment by Tom Bentley — March 1, 2011 @ 4:17 pm
I love dropping my opinion suitcases. I’m gonna do it more now, thanks Tom for pointing out the value in it!
Comment by Rick Wilson — March 2, 2011 @ 3:36 pm
Don’t bother. The Aliens are transmitting on a frequency now that is only deterred by rusting bicycles, broken television sets and Rubbermaid containers filled with stuff you’re going to take the Goodwill one day.
Comment by Becky Blanton — March 2, 2011 @ 4:04 pm
Rick, it’s gotta be a good thing to not be a slave to instant editorializing of the kind that goes on in my head, i.e. “That guy’s an idiot!” or “I need that titanium cowhead to make my deck look more modern.” But dang, it’s hard to re-train your brain from just sticking its nose in everywhere. (Ah, the nose of the brain—what happens if you blow?)
I’ll just keep trying, despite the odds.
Comment by Tom Bentley — March 3, 2011 @ 1:00 pm
Becky, thank God you told me this in time. I was about to make a Goodwill trip, but instead I will strategically align those things on my roof, my garage roof and the Airstream’s roof (and make sure to orient to the equatorial gyre as well.) Saved by the bell!
Comment by Tom Bentley — March 3, 2011 @ 1:02 pm