Standing outside in the rain, looking in through the stain glass rainbow in the window, I’m thinking of my paper and zen and what exactly I’m trying to do here. I think that I’m choosing juggling as a medium to "discuss" zen not particularly because I want to talk about juggling, but because it’s difficult just to talk about zen as is. I think that it’s not possible to write about zen, just zen. I mean, obviously, people have done it, but it never really communicates zen in a respectful way. It’s just not a "talking about" thing. It’s an experience, just as juggling is. But if it makes it easier to get this paper done, and really communicate to you, Marietta, what my thoughts and experiences of zen are, then I’m going to talk about juggling.

This afternoon, I took a nap. After only four hours of sleep last night and a couple hours before dinner, I’m in one of those states of contented bewilderment. Juggling with Craig in the Sunrise living room was satori; meditation in action. Like the dreamworld experienced while awake and totally aware. No sense of time of day, no thoughts of tomorrow or my day at school. Just here with Craig and his baby son, Adrian.

I hate to break into the paper writing voice necessary to actually cover the objective of this paper, but I suppose I can do it!

For Craig Green, a fellow member of Twin Oaks Community, juggling is not so much a sport as a means of creating world peace. Yup. In particular, partner juggling is his specialty. He quotes, "Dharma gates are infinite and I vow to master them all" (one of the boddhisatva vows?). Juggling, for some members of Twin Oaks is a dharma gate, an opportunity for the ripening of consciousness, and an invitation to collective consciousness.

Craig describes the journey to adulthood as developing a sense of separateness from the world; trying to extract what one needs from the world and distance oneselffrom the source at the same time Where have we heard that one before? All kinds of meditation, juggling included, are essentially becoming a child again. Re-awakening to that good ol’ web of life: INTERCONNECTEDNESS. Says he, "The same energy that moves the stars across the sky makes our hearts beat." This is beyond meaningful to me, it’s is my essence, and truly all of our essences.

Partner or group juggling fulfills one of those inherent human needs, to be part of something bigger. Cooperative juggling is able to create that group consciousness necessary to live fully in the moment. I ask Craig what his goals are with his juggling groups. He responds, "To communicate an ethic, similar to the zen ethic: Awakening to true nature." This form of juggling is similar to many religious rituals, personal practices, and even, say, martial arts. It is most certainly an apt medium for awakening. Multiple patterns are used in group juggling; some just between two people, some involving the entire group. Mindfulness, graciousness, and nonjudgment are emphasized. Graciousness, meaning an appreciation of mistakes as well as accomplishments, and a commitment of to excellence. But how do you commit to excellence and also be nonjudgmental regarding mistakes? As Suzuki says, "Everything is perfect, but there is always room for improvement."

In our culture, people tend to polarize, or group things in opposites. Open-minded juggling is a step on the path to fusing those opposites. People who are highly creative tend to exhibit certain paradoxical characteristics. For example, being able to be entirely serious in one instant, and silly and playful in the next, or even both at the same time! Two of the most important seeming opposites are relaxation and concentration. These two characteristics are key to cooperative juggling. Music is an element that can enhance both of these. In general, people tend to automatically relax more when there is music present. I know with me, when I play my guitar, all my worries seem to drift away, with my voice. Extraneous concerns dissipate. Also, the rhythmic qualities of the music and the throw and catch of the juggling bags blend together to create a peaceful and comfortable atmosphere.

There is something about juggling that is very instinctive. The movement and the reflexes, they’re certainly not things you can exactly plan out. The gliding back and forth of the hands, giving and receiving, it’s almost innate.

Like meditations, some juggling sessions feel much more rewarding than others. Some are frustrating, or if I’m learning a new pattern, just plain hard. But each practice seems to contain richness, and I always seem to benefit. The pain in the shoulders, complaining muscles can be compared to the stiff joints that accompany a long zazen sitting. The discomfort pulls me right into the moment, keeping me in touch with my body. When Craig and I can continue a pattern for any length of time, a smiling, excited feeling fills me with pure happiness. It’s wonderful. And before we start, each time, we raise our arms simultaneously to center ourselves and get back on track for the next try. This reminds me of the practice of bowing, so inherent in zen buddhism. Showing respect to the art and wiping the slate clean. This action is almost as thrilling and satisfying as keeping the bags in the air!

Zen juggling is not just about getting high from the state of mind it puts you into, though. It’s about taking it further. Beyond those momentary thrills, there is no lasting personal transformation. To create peace between people and in the world, this experience needs to be shared; not to remain in satori, but return, and help people find their own path: The essence of the boddisatva vows.

So you know how to juggle, huh? Now, to fully live it, you must pass it on.