My moment of Zen

While talking with a co-worker this morning we exchanged the common pleasantries (though I needed some coaxing. If I walk into someone's office and even though they indicate it's ok to come in I won't say anything until they start the conversation. Particularly if they still look like they're in the middle of something.)
Him "... and how are you?"
Me "Oh, I'm fine thanks. I guess I did come in and just kind of sit without saying anything."

pause

Me "And how are you?"

Him "Surviving"

Me "Well, I suppose that's all you can ask for."

Him "No, no it's not. I can always ask for more."


This kind of startled me into being awake for the day. I so often fall back on the cushion of the boring, pithy reply that I forget the luxuries that reality can afford you.

I'm usually quite happy just to exist. I'm glad that I have a mind to think with, even when I waste it on TV. I'm happy to watch the scenery as I commute to work and say repeated prayers for the many animals that have become victims of traffic since I traveled on the road 12 hours ago. I'm content to engage in conversations where I can just joke around, for it is far better than just about anything to have a good laugh, in my opinion.

That, and thinking beyond the pithy reply scares the hair off me.

I love philosophy discussions, but find that once my head starts swimming I can barely keep up with the conversation. I need to go outside and just stare at a cloud and let my mind go blank so I can absorb everything that was said. And I still probably won't understand it all. Once I start to swim around in my own head though, things start to fall apart. I can't tell if I'm really Zen or just mushy in the brain.

I know there is space for both types of people in the world; those who exist and those who think about existing. And there's a world of pithy replies to justify each position.

"Grow where you are planted."

"Carpe Diem."

"I think, therefore I am."

"Those who can, do; those who can't, teach."

But it has always felt lazy to me when I find that I am content simply to be alive. It has always held a twinge of fear if I find myself thinking that perhaps there is something else I could be doing. Where is the balance between the pleasure of existence and the fulfillment of self? And where is that magical crossroad where they meet?