Spontaneity

When an older man arrived at a temple gate asking to gain admittance, the head monk asked, “What took you so long?” (Most monks start their training at an early age.) The older man replied, “I am an only son and had to take care of my aging parents.” The head monk only said, “I’m waiting for your answer.” Although the older man’s first answer seemed very reasonable, in spiritual pursuits, it is not usually the reasonable, well thought out answer that is of interest. It’s the spontaneous answer, that which relates to the moment.

Justin often uses Paul Reps, the famous Zen writer and his good friend, as an example of someone who was spontaneous, ready to do or go where he needed at a moment’s notice. When Paul came across a book about India one day, it made such an impact on him that, by evening, he had signed on as a member of a crew sailing to India. Before the term “carry-on luggage” was coined, Paul was doing it. All he took was a change of clothes and a one pound typewriter, made specially for him by Olivetti, in Italy. They traveled with him all over the world. You might ask, “But if he needed to visit some important people what would he wear?” These kinds of issues where not high on Paul’s priority list. And yet, as Justin traveled the world and met people who influenced his life in a positive, spiritual manner, whenever he mentioned Paul’s name, to well known teachers, like Ruth Sasaki, Alan Watts’ former mother in-law, (with a big smile and a friendly remembrance) they would say, “Oh yes, I know Paul.”

The great Swami Krishnanand of India, and special friend to Justin, was led to spontaneous acts, too. When he read that thousands of people were starving to death in Africa, he took it as a command from God that he was supposed to feed them and left for Africa the next day, ready to do his part. Swamiji, the son of a Maharaja who could have had an easy and idle life, instead chose to serve, setting up eye clinics that have saved the eyesight of thousands. He accomplished all of this without touching money. (Not touching money was part of a Swami’s vows.)

When Justin was living in Taos, NM, in the early 1960s, he got up one morning and told his artist friend Chuck Stewart that he was going to Albuquerque. When Chuck asked him what he was going for, Justin didn’t know; he just had to go. It was during this trip that Justin stopped at a bookstore where he met two students who had overheard him say that he taught T’ai Chi (Ch’uan). By that afternoon, they had introduced him to a woman who had a Yoga academy. She set up a T’ai Chi Ch’uan class and also a chance for him to go on radio. A student, Enid Howarth, came and took the class. After the first class she insisted that her husband come also. He was a professor at the University of New Mexico and helped to set up a T’ai Chi Ch’uan class for Justin at the University’s Honors Program. This later led to the creation of T’ai Chi Chih. Justin could have been unwilling or unable to answer his inner guidance. However, he did listen, luckily, and today T’ai Chi Chih is serving thousands. In the future, who knows how many millions it will touch.

These stories are not meant as idle entertainment, but rather as examples of great beings who didn’t put off, or make excuses about, their inner guidance. They were mature enough to listen and take action. One of the most important things that we do on the spiritual path is to stay open. Being open, we allow ourselves to be spontaneous. This spontaneity is the next necessary step on the path to unfolding.

Each day that we take time to do our T’ai Chi Chih practice, we are acting with maturity, not only about our own lives, but about the lives of many. It takes spontaneity to break out of old patterns and choose a new one, T’ai Chi Chih. This is an important choice, as our daily practice does makes a tremendous difference in this world.