Book Spazz: Dancing With Your Books, Part I

[jakebe]

So I've decided to read "Dance With Your Books: The Zen Way of Studying" by J.J. Gibbs, in the interest of learning how to read and retain information better. I've read quite a few books that are widely regarded as enriching experiences, but I've rarely taken more than a few tidbits and a vague, "Wow, that was really good." feeling. Of course, I always end up remembering more than I think I do, and with a little discussion I can surprise myself with how much I've actually retained. Still, I'd really like to be able to actually remember whatever it is I remember, and not just accept subconscious learning as it is.

In this regard, "Dancing With Your Books" isn't going to be Mortimer Adler or that other author whom I can never remember but Ashentaine has told me about twice. Still, it serves it's purpose well in getting me to stop and think about how and *why* I collect the information I do, and what to do to make sure I remember more of it.

Gibbs has written a serviceable book, though it's not without its flaws; I have the feeling that as a student of Zen he's read many many books written by masters and has a strong idea on how a Zen book is supposed to sound. He doesn't know how to make it *sound* that way, though, and it shows in the tediousness of many of his chapters, the weakness of many of his illustrations, and the mind-numbing repitition of the title. I swear, if he encourages me to dance with my books one more time, I'm going to dance my books upside his happy little head.

Even if Gibbs doesn't exactly know how to write a book, he knows the material he's covering, and that's what makes everything all right. The very first part of the book deals with the basic concepts he's working from; that of being here in the present moment, and the idea of Right Effort. He navigates the sticky little minefield that is Buddhist teaching rather well (though admittedly, I'm probably not as critical as most) and though he doesn't use repitition as a memory aid quite as well as someone more practiced with teaching Buddhism, it's a serviceable job.

The problem with studying, reading, or any other activity we tend to regard as a chore is we're never quite focused on the task at hand while we're performing it. We're latched on to the fact that we just don't want to be there, or we're avoiding what we're doing by replaying events of the day or planning what we have to do later. We're never just there, and most of the time we never even realize it.

Learning to enjoy studying, or reading, and doing it well requires that you slow down, accept the fact that you're going to be locked into the activity for a certain length of time, and just doing it without letting yourself get distracted. This is a really simple idea but it's very difficult to implement. Our brains have become masterful at throwing distractions at us whenever we're trying to focus on a specific thing, and there's no end of various tricks it can use to throw us off-course. Even when we're forcing ourselves to block out all the things our head is throwing at us we're unable to concentrate. By struggling to remove the intrusion, we're attaching to it; we're still placing undue attention on it and letting it step outside of its rightful place.

Just studying means just that; to just study. Don't focus on anything but what's in front of you. Let distractions ride around the peripheries if they have to...eventually they'll move outside your field of vision, as long as you don't waver.
The idea of Right Effort is explained in a novel way that I really like. We all do things for a *reason*. We might write to gain recognition. We might go to college to get a better job. We might study so we can ace this big scary test sitting on our heads. Whatever the broader reason for choosing to sit down and read a dry book for two hours, that reason becomes unimportant once you sit down. It's perfectly all right to have big goals, but don't let the big goals bully the little ones into hiding. When you're there, just be there. If you get the material down with that singular focus in mind, aceing the test will take care of itself in its own due time. Study now. Take the test later. It's as simple as that...but still difficult to implement.

Gibbs talks about "the zone" that artists and athletes hit, where all effort is, well, effortless, and the body becomes able to accomplish seemingly impossible tasks in terms of power, speed, timing and style. Everything is *just* so. It's perfection in its natural state -- not some superhuman achievement, but the pinnacle of training, mentality and focus coming together into an unrepeatable moment. It's possible to achieve this in all aspects of life, whether it's running, or painting, or tea-drinking, sweeping, washing dishes or cutting hair. It's all a matter of letting everything drop away but activity and the moment itself.

This is what is meant by effortless effort; the removal of the ego seperating the self from the activity so that you can participate fully in what's going on. When you study, there's just study...stuff like that. That's the aim of the book, and where you want to be when you're sitting.

So now that we know where we're going, the next part of the book helps to show us how to get there. I haven't quite read that part yet, but as soon as I do I'll be spazzing about it later.