Empty Your Cup

There is a story in the Zen Buddhist tradition that goes like this:
There was a Master who received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. It was obvious to the Master from the start of their conversation that the professor was not so much interested in learning about Zen as he was in impressing the Master with his own opinions and knowledge. The Master listened patiently and finally suggested they have tea. The Master poured his visitor's cup full and then kept on pouring.
The professor could no longer restrain himself, "The cup is over-full, no more will go in!"
"Like this cup," the Master said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

For the last couple of weeks we've been having an unusual flat spell. The waves have disappeared. This was wreaking havoc on my system. Then I began to think of it another way; as a fast or a desert. I am trying to see the lack of waves as a teaching moment. At first it's annoying. Then it's confusing. Next comes sadness. After sadness comes acceptance. Finally, there is realization that though the waves are absent, they aren't gone and they will come back.

The Absent Wave is a tangible reminder of the spiritual desert or dark night of the soul. Before I get into this I want to make a distinction real quick: there is a difference between a desert and a dark night. The desert is a place of isolation and desolation where the dark night is a loving abandonment. The dark night is something usually reserved for those saintly people who are so near to God that the final stage preceding a total mystical union is a period of darkness where God asks for pure faith, faith without consolation. The desert is a place that anyone who is honestly seeking God will experience. In life we may travel through one big desert or many little ones. For my purposes I'm treating the absent wave more like a desert experience.

The old cliche of "distance makes the heart grow fonder" is true in many ways (it is also false in many ways, but I'm not getting into that). The absence of waves, the absence (presumed) of God in the desert, doesn't mean they are gone, leaving us forever, but only that they are not here, now. Their presence is not felt. In the desert or on the beach, we must wait. We learn patience. We practice faith. We come to understand our longing. In fact this is where we come to understand whether or not we have a longing.

Of course it is preferred to have surf over flat seas. It is preferred to know God's continuous presence over isolation and spiritual abandonment. I would never deny this. However, as much as I prefer surf to flat I have to realize that the flat spells are an important part of the surfing life. The flat spells are like fasting; they teach us to wait. They teach us to have a hopeful anticipation. They also teach us that we don't cease to be surfers because there are no waves. A big leap in our maturation as a surfer is moving through the flat spell and not losing the surf-ness.

A big part of our spiritual maturity is moving through the desert and not losing our faith. The first wave after a flat spell is always wonderful. It's like being home again. But if we never go through the desert, if we never sit through a flat spell, eventually we become complacent, we expect that the waves will always be there. The result is that we never mature. It a parent never lets go of a child's hand the child will never really learn to walk. Once the parent does let go, what happens? The kid is scared. Maybe he falls a few times. But in the end, because the parent let go, the kid isn't just walking but running and jumping. If God never lets go, never pulls back to see if we'll take that next step on our own, we will never learn to walk.