Just one book this time

Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
by Robert M. Pirsig

"Here is an unforgettable narration of a summer motorcycle trip across America's Northwest, undertaken by a father and his young son. A story of love and fear, of growth, discovery and acceptance, that becomes a profound personal and philosophical odyssey into life's fundamental questions."

I first read this book either in my late teens or early twenties, which was in the mid-1980's. It made such a huge impression on me that it became my favourite book, always number 1 whenever I was asked. And yet I'm not sure that I have ever read it again. Why is that, when it is my 'favourite book'?

I think it might be about denial and delayed gratification and my upbringing and 'conditions', as the Buddhists would say.

Once, I was given a present of a painting kit. It was a brilliant present, I was delighted and excited and looked forward to opening the box and getting it out and painting the picture. But I never did. I never even opened the box, and the only reason I can put forward, with hindsight half a century later, is that once it was painted I wouldn't be able to look forward to it any more. Somehow, looking forward to it was better and more pleasurable than actually painting it.

It's possible that's why I never re-read my favourite book. Imagining reading it was giving me such pleasure that actually reading it might be a disappointment.

Well, no longer. I have been trying for quite a while to simplify my life and dispose of possessions, and one of the ways to do that has been to whittle down my collection of books, which means re-reading some of the old ones. And going away for a week's retreat would provide lots of reading time. (It didn't, but that's another story). I picked this book out, my favourite book, to re-read at long last.

If I'm honest, I was pretty nervous. If I didn't like it, what would that mean? But I was also fascinated to find out, and see if the past became present and maybe I'd gain more insight into myself 40 years ago.

Reading the book was fine. It was illuminating. It was thought provoking. I realised that at the same time as I was reading and taking in the story I was also evaluating the experience and bringing to mind my earlier self - what did she see in it? how come it made that number 1 spot in the favourite book charts? would I still put it there? I was reading it as me now and marvelling at that young woman.

It is a complicated book weaving together two completely different stories - one about a man on a motorcycle road trip with his son, and the other about an earlier time in his life before he became insane. I have been surprised to detect in it many of the seeds of my current situation, some Buddhist philosophy, and I wonder if I had followed up and paid more attention to the content I may have made better choices and approached equanimity sooner. But I think that the words and sentences and paragraphs of strange philosophical description spoke to that young woman because it described something she recognised about the way her mind worked that seemed to be different from how everyone else's minds seemed to work, on the scanty evidence she could glean from what they said and did.

[Writing this, here, in this moment, I have been struck like a thunderbolt by the fact that the author refers to his former self in the third person, as if he were a separate being, and I have unintentionally done exactly the same thing.]

On the retreat and in general within the Buddhist context, much time is spent talking about the mind, how it works, how to access its tendencies, how to influence and change it. As someone who has little access to the workings of her own mind and no particular affinity for psychology, this is always a struggle. Occasionally I get a little glimpse of some truth before it scurries away and hides behind some neurones and synapses. 

Year 2 of my study class is more challenging too, and we are encouraged to present a 'project' after each module, to expand on something that we have found interesting. I had a mini crisis at the end of the latest module, and after a kind and supportive conversation with our teacher I was given a dispensation - I wouldn't have to present a project if I didn't want to. Almost immediately I discovered that I did want to, following a chance comment by one of the group alongside an experience I had on my previous retreat.

That other retreat was at the headquarters of the Buddhist movement I've joined, where the founder lived at the end of his life and where he is buried. He was a voracious reader as well as an inspirational teacher (I'm told), and created a whole movement from nothing at all but his passion for the Buddha's teaching. Anyway, one of the buildings in that centre is the Library, so I thought I'd have a look at that, and was puzzled to see no more than a couple of bookcases. Another small room seemed to have some more books, but there was someone there working at a table in the middle.

"Are you the librarian?" I asked.

"Not exactly," she said.

"Can I come in and have a look?"

"Of course."

So there were about ten more bookcases, and not all that interesting - they contained translations of other books into various languages as well as some texts from different Buddhist traditions (e.g. Zen, Tibetan and others). But I had a good look just in case there were any more interesting titles, and after I got to the end, the Non-Librarian said: "Would you like to see the other books?"

It turned out there were two more whole rooms crammed with books of all sorts, the 'real' collection. Actually, not all sorts. There was every philosophy book and author, plenty on religion and faith, nature, arts and humanities, poetry, and probably more that I can't remember. But nothing about science beyond James Lovelock and Bill Bryson. It is clear that the founder of the movement was hugely charismatic, well read, and inspirational, but he was not a scientist.

Until I met Buddhism my faith was science - perhaps I should call it Scientism. Now I am a Scientist Buddhist, or a Buddhist Scientist - the two faiths coexist very nicely with barely any contradiction. And this is what I'm going to talk about for my project, specifically about the preciousness of life, the certainty of death, along with the usual 'Actions Have Consequences' and the existence of suffering. But that's not what this blog post is about.

I finished my 'favourite' book at home after my retreat had ended, and pondered what might have resonated so strongly with my earlier self. It must have been a challenging read, and I doubt that I understood half of it. It's probably the only book on philosophy that I would have read until recently. Maybe I thought it would reflect well on me to have this favourite book? Anyway, I have concluded that I can't say why it became a favourite, and while I found it satisfying to read again I think I will have to demote it from the top spot, which means that 'Catch 22' is promoted to number 1. Now that's a book that I have re-read several times, and it still delivers.