“To describe myself in a scientific way, I must also describe my surroundings, which is a clumsy way of getting around to the realization that you are the entire universe.”
—Alan Watts
 

hen I was a kid, I was a bit astonished by the realization that to make something “clean,” something else had to get “dirty.” For example, my dusting rag was soiled by the dirt I was wiping up, and the water was soiled by the dirt when I washed it. I could follow this progression through any example I found. What was “good” for one was “bad” for the other. Cause really did have an effect. (I was a bit of a young philosopher!)

It was my first memory of considering that all my thoughts, words, and deeds had consequences—something I learned while I was training at the Zen monastery.

The gravity of this concept didn’t weigh me down, however, but rather it gave me pause to consider what I was doing before taking action. It encouraged me to practice being as present as I could be all the time. Because if I lapsed and allowed the voices in my head to speak or act through me, it could get quite ugly.

But I didn’t want to pause too long to allow those same voices to stop me from doing anything. Waiting too long and going up into my head to consider, “Is this good or bad…?” could get me into as much trouble as acting without consciousness. Soyen Shaku, the first Zen teacher to come to America, described the process in his personal rules for living this way, “When an opportunity comes do not let it pass by, yet always think twice before acting.”

In this way, I was striving to determine if what was arising in me was insight or ego. A very delicate balance and a razor’s edge. I practiced in this way for the love of the universe because what affected me, affected others, and rippled out to all. It wasn’t something I wanted to take lightly, but I did want to do it light-heartedly.