Not-knowing
Hi all,
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what in Buddhism, is called not-knowing, particularly when it comes to writing.
The late Zen teacher Bernie Glassman (whose students included the actor Jeff Bridges) believed that practicing not-knowing was so important, he made it the first of his three Zen Peacemakers tenants.
Here’s what he told Lion’s Roar:
“For me, part of the state of not knowing is entering into the worlds I am afraid of, entering into worlds about which I have no idea. I’m drawn to those aspects of myself that I do not understand, that I fear, that are a mystery. I’m drawn to enter that realm.”
I think this is exactly what we do as writers—especially if we are fiction writers. We enter worlds we know nothing about, worlds that might—in all the best instances—frighten us. And unless we enter those worlds from a place of not-knowing, leaving behind our preconceived ideas, we will never be able to render them accurately on the page.
Shunryu Suzuki, founder of the SF Zen Center (where I practice), also believed in the value of not-knowing. In his book, Zen Mind Beginners Mind, he said:
“In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities; in the expert's mind there are few.”
About ten years ago, I went back to school for my MFA. Since I’d already published a memoir and a novel, I was pretty confident I knew everything I needed to know about the craft of writing.
I was of course, completely wrong about this. As long as I was holding onto my image of myself as an expert—as somebody who knows—I was closing off any possibility of invention or experimentation. Any hope of real creativity. Writing, like meditation and yoga, is a practice. You never really master it, you only keep trying.
These days, I’ve been practicing not-knowing with my novel-in-progress. After more than two years of writing, I had the sudden (and exceedingly unpleasant) realization that I didn’t really know my main character—which probably explains why every one of her scenes was so damn hard to write!
So I decided to take a break from the book (difficult for me), and get to know her. Every morning now, I wake up early, pull my computer into bed, and free write for ten to twenty minutes from her pov. As I do this, I try to keep a beginner’s mind, allowing everything in, ruling nothing out. Practicing not-knowing.
Of course, if I ever want to finish this book, I am eventually going to have to know something…and get back to writing. But in the meantime, this practice of not-knowing, of inviting everything in, has been incredibly fruitful.
This reflection was a lovely gift -- a reminder of why it's difficult, and why it's okay to be struggling -- writing a scene that has tied me up for weeks.
I love this reminder. Why is it so hard to remember that we are never experts? Or that, even if we are, the richest connections happen when we return to beginner's mind...