Heh. When I hear (or, more accurately, read) "ten years of practice" it seems like I should be a lot farther along the path than I am. I am a bad Buddhist. I smoke and I drink and I love MMA and violence and bad horror movies and shooting guns. If anyone ever designs a poster that illustrates what NOT to be as a Buddhist, I should probably be the central image, Glock, tattoos, Jagermeister bottle and all.
My practice revolves around study, as I have always been a scholarly person. I love reading about Buddhism; it's history, it's traditions, it's practices and it's adaptation here in the West. Nothing fascinates me more than the emerging American Buddhism. We are a land of hard-nosed skeptics and I'm eager to see what cultural detritus Buddhism will shed as it sets up shop here, so far from it's Eastern roots.
My practice has long suffered from a lack of any real motivation. As I say, I have always loved studying it, but, when it comes down to the real practice of meditation, I have to force myself into it. I am physically, emotionally and mentally incapable of creating any kind of routine for practice. I am a massage therapist by day and I wait tables by night. I have no fixed schedule and no set times specifically for meditation. Some days I get up at 8:30 am and go all day long, some days I struggle out of bed at noon and lay around the house until I work at 4pm. I find it ridiculously difficult to meditate in the mornings. My head is thinking of the looming day, the extra time I could have spent asleep or the magnificent breakfast I could be eating. Sometimes, morning meditation just plain makes me dizzy and I have to stop. Evening meditation, before bed, is much easier. However, my wife works the exact opposite schedule I do, and, often, when I get home at 10:30pm, the scant time until she passes out is the only chance we have to see each other.
This has never gotten easier. I have been waiting tables for 14 years. I have always worked mostly nights, and, if any of you out there have ever been in the business, you can attest that the nightlife is exquisite. It's quite impossible to get off work at midnight, go home, meditate and go to bed. It's much more likely that, after getting off at midnight, you go to a bar with your rowdy coworkers, pound shots till they close, then head home with a core of 4 to 5 close friends and abuse your body chemically until around 5am. I did that for a long time. Now, at age 36, I no longer party like Keith Moon but it is very hard to come straight home, meditate, go to bed at a human hour and rise in time to repeat my meditation before starting the next day.
I also have no support group. I was a member of my local Shambhala Center for several years. I even spent time as a work-study participant at a retreat center in Vermont. The longer I was affiliated with them, the more I realized it was not the place for me. I am much too questioning, too irreverent and too brash for a path that demands such devotion. Vajrayana Buddhism is a quagmire of bizarre deities, strange rituals, psychotic chanting and a mind-numbing lack of free will. I drifted away from the group and ended up studying and practicing zazen on my own.
The practical shock-therapy of Zen seemed like the perfect antidote to the dreamy, mystical world of Shambhala. The Soto tradition, with it's finger-pointing-at-the-moon pragmatism was exactly what I thought I needed. However, the idea of practicing meditation with no goal in mind was totally alien to me, which was the notion that began this thread. I sat facing the wall, with no structure whatsoever, not following the breath, not noticing thoughts, just SITTING and SITTING until I wanted to rip my eyes out, gobble them down, and then see if my inner vision had improved at all. This may be the actual point of Zen meditation. They call it "shikantaza" and it's a completely infuriating way to run shit.
After this horrifying debacle, I began studying Vipassana, again on my own. I had always dismissed Theravadin Buddhism as too prosaic for my tastes. I wanted my spirituality with just a little more spectacle, THANK you very much. Except I really didn't. I had just spent too many years thinking I did. What I, in fact, wanted, was something I call "481." The Four Noble Truths, the 8Fold Path, and the 1 Dharma that the Buddha taught. Simple. To the point. I had "481" tattooed on my inner forearm so I would never forget this.
However, I remain a bad Buddhist. I generally practice in spurts. I will knuckle down and meditate at least once a day, every day, for a week. Then, the week after, I'll end up sitting 4 days. And, the week after THAT, it'll be 2 times. Then I'll fall out of it totally for a month. Then I'll start again. This cycle repeats itself ad nauseum.
I never stray far. I continue to study, even if I don't practice. I read a lot, I troll the net and pick up wisdom here and there. It always inspires me to return to hardcore meditation. I know it makes me happier. I know it makes me better. I just haven't figured out a way to sustain it no matter what.