The Darkest Night of My Spiritual War: The Final Step to Freedom… or Annihilation.

It's The End of the Road. This is My Last Stand.

I usually go to the Zen Center on Sundays.

For someone who hated going to church with a passion, it’s a huge turnaround. I try to get home before midnight to get enough rest the next day.

I was out dancing the night before and didn’t get enough sleep…

So, this Sunday was a struggle not to fall asleep in the zendo.

I wish I could do justice to how epic it is to sit in a room with 50 people for 2 hours in pristine silence.

You leave the zendo feeling rejuvenated.

My mind is clear and empty.

Ergo, no problems and desires to make me unhappy.

But I was miserable after my sit yesterday.

We had a meeting after the sitting in the dining room.

I want to do justice to how strange and cool this religion is.

Strange: We eat on the floor from a table, which may be a foot off the ground.

It’s the traditional Japanese way.

I love it.

We’re eating, and we’re all still in our lotus positions.

And I dare not overlook how well-fed we are at the Zen Center.

We get a bagel breakfast every Sunday.

There’s lots of coffee and tea: jams, cream cheese.

Sometimes, there are also pastries or cookies.

There’s a very communal vibe about the place.

Everybody is used to doing chores and pitching in to clean up.

At the Zen Center, wasting food is frowned upon, so if you put food on your plate, you are expected to eat it.

This place is run so efficiently.

When you have an empty mind, you become naturally more meticulous.

It shows just about everywhere you look in this place.

Everything is usually spotless. Everything is in its correct place.

There’s a subtle order and harmony everywhere.

I love getting a moment to connect with my fellow members after a sitting.

There are only two opportunities like this every week. And, we’re not allowed to speak during the sitting…

So again, it’s very, very valuable.

After years of being attracted to immature, unstable, and abusive people…

This place is a refuge in the truest sense.

Most people here are advanced practitioners.

We are all humble, so most of my member friends would probably disagree… but I think we’re almost all seasoned veterans.

Indeed, I had been reading about Zen for over a decade before setting foot inside a Zendo.

On the topic of today’s meeting, we’re discussing what to do if ICE raids the place.

This is dystopian madness.

We’re all trying to learn about what to do.

How to respond.

When to push back.

There’s a sense that we want to do everything in our power to protect our own.

Yet…

I was the only person in that room who ostensibly could get carried away.

Nobody registered that fact.

I have more information about the specifics here.

I still don’t think a single person in that room can understand what it’s like to have their American-ness taken away.

What next? Your liver?

I feel like a dog in the streets.

They’re hunting people.

Not even my great refuge is safe.

Not even Buddha can save me.

I see ZERO difference between this and the Gestapo persecution of Jews.

They’re even setting up a concentration camp in Guantanamo.

Far fetched?

Suppose the US DID have its own concentration camp.

Where else would it be?

What a surreal time.

I can’t imagine going back.

I won’t.

These people here at the Zen Center are starting to feel like family.

I want to put my roots down exactly here.

I want my ashes to be scattered here.

These are good people.

They all touch me.

My friend Lexi has been coming, which is great because she is also a dancer. I am so happy to have a close friend join the Sangha. We started dancing together, and now we’re on this new journey together.

Madison, who is 22 years old, works at a contact lens factory.

I worry about her sometimes. She reminds me of myself at her age — surrounded by people who don’t deserve her.

She has one of those Gen Z buzz cuts with just one ponytail’s worth of long hair sitting at the top of her head. The cut gives her an androgynous look.

She once explained how she constantly argues with everybody at work because they’re all so ignorant and always tell her she’s wrong.

I said, “You’re having smart people problems.”

Been there.

You feel alone when you’re the only one who gets it.

But everyone’s looking at you like you’re the freak.

What a confusing place to be.

James — he’s almost 80, and we’re best buddies.

I hoped he might take me to Attica prison to meditate with the inmates. He does it twice per month.

Me being an epic weirdo. I’ve read a lot about the American prison system, and I don’t think I would have a complete experience without seeing a good prison. Attica prison. That’s an epic place filled with gory history. Places like that fascinate me.

I’m unsure if I will go in there and feel like I want to leave immediately.

Which is a distinct possibility…

Or if I’m going to be blown away by the compassion of these human beings.

I’ve never been inside a prison before.

Places like that fascinate me.

Did you know that some prisons use their prisoners as slave labor?

Look it up.

Slavery is still legal inside the prison system.

Something like that: I’m no lawyer.

I was excited about going. It is a very cowboy thing to do.

My options for the night were to choose between that and a salsa party.

But I’ve had some bad experiences at this particular salsa party. I wanted to dance but needed to sit, if that makes sense.

I’m currently rereading an old classic on psychopathy. It’s another of my favorite topics of study, and I plan to do a deep dive into it soon.

Unfortunately, getting into prison is easier said than done. There’s lots of paperwork to process, so it won’t happen soon.

Even though James is 40 years older, we are boys. And he’s a truly good man. That’s what I like about him—his soft heart. A lot of men aren’t comfortable with that level of vulnerability.

I have another friend, Courtney, who is a Jamaican mystic.

He was a high-powered lawyer… who spent his free time and money traveling to the farthest corners of the earth to seek spiritual wisdom, deep into the Amazon jungle… forgotten places in Tibet and India.

One of our senior members lost her mother last week. It’s a suspected murder.

It’s a tragic situation. I adore this particular instructor. Women always show me so much more empathy than men. It’s a little intoxicating. We’ve only had brief interactions, but she feels like a close friend. Having a female person of color in a prominent position at the center is excellent. There was a GoFundMe for funeral costs. I pitched in. I wish I had more to give.

There’s excellent quality control.

You must wait 6 weeks before taking the introductory training to be admitted into the Zendo.

Everybody pays an annual membership fee.

Everyone has to be honest and ethical enough to abide by a long list of rules.

This is the type of place where toxic people stick out like a sore thumb.

Most people can’t even understand why we sit in silence so diligently as it is.

The dance community has some but far less quality control.

Most of the community makes good money, and that’s because it’s an expensive hobby.

But beyond that, who knows what maniacs are out there?

There is a large contingent of unhealthy people in the dance community.

The feedback I’ve consistently gotten from my therapist about the women I’ve met there is that they’re immature.

(That may say more about me than them, though.)

And I do have my fair share of enemies. If you read this blog long enough, you’ll understand that sometimes I’m willing to burn bridges. I am finding it harder and harder to pretend to be okay around toxic people. If you’re giving me toxic, I’m not going to pretend that’s not what I’m getting.

I’m done faking friendships where the real thing doesn’t exist.

The Zen Center is a place of healing.

The people who come here are all on the path.

Lots of alcoholics who’ve gone sober.

This is the only place where I trust men.

The average amount of empathy you find in this place is off the charts.

With all of this chaos happening in my life… I want to go deeper into the silence.

Dancing cannot protect me or soothe me at this time.

It was not the same as when I was getting divorced and had just moved to a strange new city.

I wanted to go into depths that I didn’t know were possible.

I’m feeling myself going through a deep conversion process.

Rewiring my neurology to seek vaster sources of validation from within.

It’s the secret to life — yet most people never seek it.

As Master Hakuin says:

Upholding the precepts,

repentance and giving,

the countless good deeds,

and the way of living

all come from Zazen.

Thus, one true samadhi extinguishes evils ;

it purifies karma, dissolving obstructions.

Zazen naturally creates all these profound benefits for the practitioner.

I can attest.

It’s true.

I need some expert-level tools to deal with the situation I’ve got right now.

There’s no better place.

In addition to all the sitting, we regularly get lessons about letting go of our attachments to the outside world.

Sometimes, the focus is on compassion, repentance, and forgiveness.

Sometimes, the sensei’s words hit so hard that my mind tumbles down a flight of stairs and gets knocked out cold.

I just signed up for another 2-day retreat this month.

I don’t exactly have the money for it, but I feel tortured.

I can’t think my way out of my problems.

I need to let go of the thoughts altogether.

As you read this and ponder my future… I think some Helen Keller is fitting.

“Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. No pessimist ever discovered the stars’ secret or sailed to an uncharted land.” — Helen Keller

My life may look in shambles, but it’s in no worse condition than yours. Not in the long run.

Everyone must face annihilation sooner or later.

Still…

Can I accept annihilation?

I struggle to see that future for myself.

Living with regret.

Seeing this as the high water mark of my life.

Unable to break the magnetic pull of a place I’ve been trying to escape for my whole life.

A cautionary tale.

Imprisoned.

Spending the rest of my life on a 14-mile island is a life sentence.

Practically speaking, that’s not true.

I know I would adapt.

But I don’t want to adapt.

I don’t want to give up my Zen Center, dance community, friends, career prospects, creature comforts, healthcare, or hope.

As Eminem says, “If I have half a chance, I’ll grab it. Rabbit Run.”

That was me.

Not a full chance. HALF.

And I tasted my greatness.

I broke free from subconscious patterns that had been governing my whole life.

My whole world changed.

From being surrounded by one-sided relationships.

People who didn’t see me, didn’t value me, were entirely disloyal to me.

That was my whole life.

Then, I killed my Chauffeur self, and I became Mike Tyson.

Mike Tyson has celebrity clients and writes to millions of people.

Mike Tyson is the best in the world at what he does.

Mike Tyson turns his tragedy into art.

People talk about Mike Tyson because he’s the type of person people talk about.

And I had the grandest adventure.

I savored every moment, knowing where I came from and where I could go next.

Knowing this could be all that I ever get.

My country is too broken.

My family is too cursed.

The forces at play are vastly more potent than you can imagine…

Stronger than I could have imagined.

This journey was no less demanding than a space shuttle reaching escape velocity and leaving Earth’s atmosphere.

These were the days of my life.

And, if I must be exiled next…

I will go inward and stay there.

I will spend all of my days searching for Nirvana.

I don’t think there’s anything else left for me to do after that.

I will spend my days searching for Nirvana no matter what fate decides.

Until next time,

Anton

Dancer, Writer, Buddhist