Overzenned

Overzenned

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06 May 05.

I use vi. It's a text editor, though as noted below it has serious existential implications. Most people try it once and hate it, but for me, it is the most efficient, badass, optimized text editor ever. Your hands never leave the home keys. You can do supremely complex things with a few keystrokes. Further, I've been using it for over a decade, so these weird key combinations are second nature to me.

Here's a 1984 interview with Bill Joy, the author of vi, about his creation and why he was using a mouse-driven program named Interleave instead:

[...] I'm tired of using vi. I get really bored. There have been many nights when I've fallen asleep at the keyboard trying to make a release. At least now I can fall asleep with a mouse in my hand. I use the Xerox optica mouse instead of the other one because it is color coordinated with my office. Did you notice? I prefer the white mouse to the black mouse. You've got to have some fun, right?

This business of using the same editor for 10 years - it's like living in the same place for 10 years. None of us does it. Everyone moves once a year, right?

And so we arrive at today's conflict: efficient is boring. There are days when I am so focused on Serbia-Ukraine migration or finding conditions for the purification of mixed strategies that I want the text editor to get out of the way so I can work, and vi is perfect. If I were a good person, that would be every day, but most days I'm hoping for a bit of distraction in the tools I'm using for my work. Y'know, Arbeit ist Spiel.

But now that I have I have no hurdles or distractions from Ukraine-Serbia migration, I have no hurdles or distractions from Ukraine-Serbia migration.

Perhaps, you suggest, I look up from my screen for once, and find distraction in the real world. But my attitude toward all things, both physical and informational, has always been lay-Zen. This Japanese blogger from 1904 advises against an excess of aesthetic distractions: "... a Western interior permanently filled with a vast array of pictures, statuary, and bric-a-brac gives the impression of mere vulgar display of riches." I've certainly followed such advice, if only because I've followed Bill Joy's advice and have on average moved every year, so everything I own is carefully evaluated for its value relative to the difficulty of carrying it. Poster frames are a pain. Furniture should be disposable. If a pleasantly musty volume has an equivalent at Project Gutenberg, it's out.

This is indeed backed by Buddhism, which teaches that one should not develop an attachment to stuff, either mental or physical. "Empty the boat, bhikkhu. Empty it will sail lightly for you" the Bhudda advises [verse 369 of the Dhammapada]. Toilet hissing? Remove it and get a squat toilet and a bucket. Car repair bills and insurance payments getting you down? Get a bike. Significant other on a different path from yours, filling your life with drama? Dump `em. Soon, your life is free from attachment, easy, and empty.

And so, every day looks like like every other. A sparsely furnished room, but no matter because I'm staring at the same text editor I've been staring at for the last decade. Sometimes I change the colors around. Conflict in my life is at a relative minimum, partly because people are, and most of my work here at the screen is not a struggle, but more like building a structure or tending a garden.

I don't want to brag that I've achieved any sort of Zen ideal, but I've come a long way toward emptying the boat of attachment, posessions, and extraneous mouse gestures. Now that I'm here, I'm not sure what to do.

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Replies: 2 comments

on Sunday, May 8th, zoe said

You might want to be careful of misinterpreting scripture to suit yourself. I'm not sure I'm qualified to tell you the meaning of nonattachment, but I do know that Zen ideals are intended to provide space for joy to grow in your heart. If that's not happening, it's probably a sign that you're not actually non-attached. This is just an example, but to someone who's attached to the concept of moving every year, giving up furniture is not really a challenge - just as someone who was attached to their furniture might say, "Look how simple and non-attached I am. I don't even need to travel, I'm happy right here." And yeah, I think there are many more significant attachments in life that burden us, far beyond furniture, cars or even people... Nor does nonattachment imply an absence of love, IMO. Quite the opposite.

on Sunday, May 8th, zoe said

And I think attachment is often misinterpreted; it's not about the object itself, or the mental or emotional habit itself, but its meaning to you: whether you feel addicted to it and are prepared to sacrifice for it beyond its inherent worth. There's a Sufi parable about a man who went to see a famous sage living at the edge on an ocean in a tiny hut with his only possessions: a chair and a rice bowl. The sage said, "You should go and see the one who is far more enlightened than me. He lives down the road, in that glorious palace." The visitor replied, "How can he be more enlightened than you? He is surrounded by wealth while you live an ascetic lifestyle." "Ah," said the poor sage, "This man lives in golden halls and he's not attached to any of it. He uses his wealth to do good works but if he lost it all tomorrow it would mean nothing to him. Whereas I, with almost no possessions, still have not managed to rid myself of attachment to this rice bowl here."