In my one brief shining moment at graduate school, I had to read about the male gaze. Or, more precisely, read about the disquisition about the male gaze. "In feminist theory, the male gaze expresses an asymmetric (unequal) power relationship, between viewer and viewed, gazer and gazed" (thank you, Wikipedia). I also had to write about what I had read, distilling others' opinions but never venturing my own. This last constraint probably accounted for the brevity of the shining moment. Outside the ivy'd towers, any woman who has walked past a construction site in the city already knows pretty much all she needs to know about that gaze.
It would have been much more interesting to me to read and write about the feline gaze, as has poet Jean L'Heureux. L'Heureux means the happy one, and perhaps some of that happiness resulted from observing and being observed by cats, rather than reading up on the scholarly disquisition, and from writing poems rather than graduate theses. Just an opinion, folks. Here's the poem:
The Thing About Cats
Cats hang out with witches quite a lot:
that's not it.
The thing about cats is
they're always looking at you.
Especially when you're asleep.
Some cats pretend they're not looking
until you're not looking.
They are not to be trusted.
Some cats scowl because they're wearing
imitation fur. they feel inferior.
Some other cats look at you straight on
so that you can't drink your drink
or make love
but keep thinking
that cat's looking at me straight on.
But all cat's do the same:
they look at you
and you look out
and in.
What I'm saying is
why are they looking?
Jean L'Heureux
from Butterfly: A Journal of Buddhism.
ZEN CATS
Richard Louis Bruno
I’m a Soto kind of guy, as far as Zen is concerned. I don’t expect knock-me-off-my-cushion enlightenment experiences (although I’ve had a few). After 20 plus years of Zazen, I can (at least sometimes) do what the Soto Zen patriarchs talked about: clear the mind without mantra, without counting, without koan.
So, in the calm of the morning, I sit quietly. My black cat, Gavin -- who likes nothing better than to tear from one end of the apartment to the other -- walks over to me, pads around in my lap for a few moments, and then settles on the floor in front of my left knee, purring his own mantra.
A friend smiles and calls Gavin my “Zen Cat.” She says Gavin’s sitting with me proves his Buddha nature,
that all beings are sentient . . . and that Buddhists recruit Buddhists, be they human or animal.
She and I laugh about Gavin doing Zazen with me in the morning. But I’ve come to realize that she isn’t just close to the truth about Gavin being a Zen Cat; she’s right on the mark.
Cats...are...Zen.
Think about it. There are only seven things cats typically do: eat, sleep, snuggle, pee, poop, play and procreate.
(Poor Gavin, having had his internal apparatus permanently altered, can only do the first six.)
Cats only do what their brain’s programming tells them to do. Cats are just bundles of instinct. Gavin spends his days directed by some internal channel surfing system that selects among the magnificent seven (well, for Gavin, only six) kitty behaviors.
But there is one unseen program that is always running in the background, regardless of which of the six behaviors Gavin is performing. And that background program is Zen: that program is awareness.
Gavin is always aware. So whether he is eating, sleeping, snuggling or playing, when the plumber knocks at the door that background awareness program turns on Gavin's most basic program, his survival system: the “Fight or Flight” response. Gavin gets his back up, hisses at the plumber . . . and runs like hell for the bedroom to hide.
The Fight or Flight response, triggered automatically by his constant awareness of the environment, protects him from the clear and present danger of the plumber. And when the evil plumber leaves, the Fight or Flight response turns off, its job done. Gavin, alive and well, comes by for a brief snuggle to confirm that the danger has indeed past, and peacefully trots off to channel surf again.
Let me say it again: When the danger is gone Gavin's Fight or Flight response turns off. Cats lives depend on their background awareness program turning on the Fight or Flight response exactly when it’s needed, and then turning it off again. Gavin doesn’t spend his days crouched near the front door, refusing to eat, sleep, snuggle or play, anxiously listening for the clinking of monkey wrenches in the hall. Gavin doesn’t ruminate about plumbers in his past, or perseverate about plumbers coming for him in the future
In short, Gavin doesn’t worry!
And that’s the real lesson of my Zen Cat: don’t worry. My single biggest problem, my “basic neurotic program” if you will, is chronic worry. If that evil plumber came once he will come again, and when I least expect it. I shouldn’t waste my time or risk my life by eating, sleeping, snuggling, or playing. I must constantly be vigilant, waiting for the next plumber who will try to hurt me, sitting by the front door listening for monkey wrenches clinking in the hall.
I have absolutely no faith that my own background awareness system will warn me of danger and activate my Fight or Flight response when it’s needed. Nope. I must not only constantly be vigilant, but I must also keep my Fight or Flight response constantly turned on. That’s the only way I can possibly survive!
Well, if constantly being vigilant, my Fight or Flight response turned on all the time, is the only way to survive, then I don’t want to survive. I’d rather eat, sleep, snuggle, play . . . and die happy.
But those aren’t life’s only choices: survival or happiness. And that’s what my Zen Cat has taught me. If you develop awareness through Zazen, apply and trust that awareness in your life away from the cushion, you can be happy (or at least peaceful) most of the time, your Fight or Flight response turning on only when you need it to save your life.
So that’s Gavin’s lesson: to be aware, to apply Zen awareness throughout our daily lives, and be happy.
May we all follow Gavin’s example and become Zen Cats.
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Richard Louis Bruno has been a student of Buddhism for 35 years, a clinical psychophysiologist and a psychotherapist for 25 years. His article Buddhism plus Disability: One "step" closer to Nirvana can be found at http://www.angelfire.com/electronic/awakening101/ada-buddhism.html.
Posted by: Dick Bruno | May 10, 2011 at 08:32 AM