“ Right now my life is just one learning experience after another.… By the end of the week I should be a genius.”

When I was a full-time student at New York University’s Graduate School of Business, I commuted to school five days a week, one and a half hours each way — a half-hour walk to the train station, a half-hour train ride to Manhattan, and half-hour on the subway. I also worked twenty hours a week for a management consulting company, and I spent four to eight hours every day taking care of our infant son while my wife worked or went to graduate school. I read and studied early in the mornings or late at night. I sat meditation each. I was highly motivated in my quest to learn about business and to integrate my Zen experience with the business world.

When I was CEO of Brush Dance, I was constantly stretched to find the energy it required to transform myself and the company. My life very much felt like “rocks in a tumbler”: hard boulders hitting each other, again and again, constantly becoming smoother and smoother, the edges being worn down. Each day I bump into my own habits and patterns, my own deepest pain and longing, as well as the habits, patterns, and pain of those working around me. I strive for clarity and sometimes create confusion. The life of a Zen student or teacher and the life of a businessperson or leader can be described as “one mistake following another.” Staying with it and staying focused on outer and inner transformation requires tremendous energy.

Zen practice is often thought of as easygoing and contemplative. Spiritual practice, particularly Zen, requires tremendous energy, focus, and effort. There is an expression in Zen encouraging students to “practice as though your head were on fire.” Looking inward, recognizing our habits and patterns and then having the skill and courage to transform them is a deep, visceral process. Looking outward, working to transform the confusion, pain, and suffering in the workplace and in the world takes energy and focus.

Working with your head on fire means to work with intensity. Working with intensity does not mean that we act quickly or that we be in a rush. The combination of focus and intensity can often expand or obliterate our usual concepts of time. Intensity is a combination of focus, resolve, energy, and tenacity — focusing on the issue and not being distracted; working with resolve and determination; using your full energy, sometimes pacing yourself and sometimes moving quickly, much like a long-distance runner; and working with tenacity to go after a solution despite the difficulties and roadblocks.

One of the points I often raise in Company Time Workshops (a series of weekend retreats that combine spirituality and business) is that not only is it useful to look at ways spiritual practice can inform business, but it is also important to look at ways that practices and values developed in business can benefit and inform spiritual practice. An important value that the world of business has to offer to the world of spiritual practice is working with energy and a sense of urgency. In business, success and failure matter. Meeting goals matters. Meeting deadlines and delivering when agreed matter. When something is urgent in business, everything else takes a back seat to the matter at hand. This kind of energy can help to keep communication and actions crisp and clear, cutting through confusion and entanglements, distinguishing what really matters from what doesn’t.

In Zen temples a wooden mallet is used to hit a wooden block to announce when it is time for meditation. Written on the back of the wooden block are characters that say, “Life and death are the great matters. Don’t waste time.” None of us knows when we will die. Zen teachers sometimes describe our lives as like being in a boat on an ocean, floating out to sea, knowing that someday our boat will sink — but having no idea when this will happen. Since we don’t know when we will die, we should make our best effort right now. There is no reason to hold back, nothing to wait for. This kind of realization and acknowledgment of the shortness of our lives can help to provide the kind of visceral energy required to transform our businesses or our lives.

There’s a story about a group of American Zen teachers meeting with the His Holiness the Dalai Lama. One of the teachers spoke about the problem of not having any time to take a vacation. The Dalai Lama was puzzled, not understanding this term. His interpreter tried several different ways to translate. Finally, when the Dalai Lama understood, he let out a robust and impish laugh. He asked, “Do bodhisattvas get time off?” (A bodhisattva is someone who dedicates their life to helping others.) The Dalai Lama was commenting that there is no time off from using our energy to transform suffering into joy and to continually meet the needs of others.

I was a young student when Thich Nhat Hanh first visited Tassajara. He walked very slowly; all his movements seemed very measured. Someone once described Thich Nhat Hanh as a combination of a cat, a cloud, and a piece of heavy construction equipment. He was very calm, gentle, and at the same time very deliberate, intense, and filled with energy in his every action.

Questions for Daily Practice
Try working at different paces. For half a day, work at a slow and steady pace. For another half day, try working with increased energy and intensity. Notice the difference.
What activities give you energy? When do you feel most engaged?
What activities drain your energy? When do you feel disengaged?
What do you want to accomplish before you die?
At your funeral, what accomplishments would you want noted in public?

Adapted from Z.B.A. Zen of Business Administration