Stone Carving Retreat Report

Similar to most people in our Sangha I have looked at a few walls in my time. Whereas I might not be a great meditator, you could still say that to some extent I am quite an expert on having a close intimate investigatory connection with the lumps and bumps, colours and shadows on the walls that have been in front of my cushion. But this is something different; I am not in a sitting meditation position, I am standing up and looking at a big block of stone.

What I am confronted with is a cube of bathstone on a plinth of breeze blocks and in my hand I have a mallet and a chisel. I am told to put the chisel on the stone and hit it hard with the mallet. A bit of the stone flies off onto the ground. There is noise of hammering all around as the other workshop members hit their stone. And so we have begun.

Here we have a workshop on Chan practice based on doing. It is based on the regular striking of the cube of stone and seeing what emerges. At first the instruction is not to try to make anything appear but just see what it feels like to be hitting the mallet on the chisel and the chisel making a mark to remove stone from the block. It seemed as if this instruction is rather mindless than mindfulness but very soon I came to appreciate the mindfulness is in the way the mallet is held, the way it moves to hit the chisel, the way the chisel is held and the way the chisel is placed on the stone. The stone is a very good teacher, its first lesson is that if I hold the chisel and the mallet in a sloppy way, it does not yield, it's very easy to skim the chisel over the surface without leaving any significant impression. Then came the realisation that I needed to expect the stone to yield. I had attended this workshop previously and I knew that it was safe to hit the chisel hard and so quickly I found I was hitting big chunks of the stone as it yielded to its involvement with me.

As my body began to get used to standing and the action of hitting, it seemed as if the focus induced a quietness in which the problems and worries of the previous days and months rose up. On the first morning they seemed to arise very quickly as if in a tidal wave, presenting themselves as I was hitting the stone. But as they arose they also dissipated as somehow the blows of the mallet removed them as well as the stone. Here was a focus away from the worrisome self and onto something that was ‘outside’ but slowly becoming a part of me.

I began to think of the stone, 150 million years old made from the bodies of shells and oolites laid down with sand under warm sea water of Jurassic times and then forced together by the pressure of the earth’s weight, squashed and hidden underneath the overlying rocks on top of it. It had travelled the globe through movements of tectonic plates and withstood the rise and fall of the earth crust, then it lay waiting near the surface in some quarry to be cut up and placed on my breezeblock plinth ready for a form of creative destruction. What a journey. These thoughts reduced my action of carving into a infinitesimally small one within the grand scheme of things.

The sounds of iron and chisel increased and decreases throughout the room and at varying moments Henry provided instructions both for the group and each individual. These instructions were always timely and focused. He had a very good way of speaking to the group as he introducing us slowly to a technique relevant to the activity of the moment.  He also worked with each of us in his tender way as we came to an understanding of the use of tools and the process of carving.

With no supposed aim about what was emerging from the stone the first koan that was on the blackboard was "what is the stone asking to become?" Working with this koan it was as if the stone itself was being fashioned in its own way and just requiring my involvement as a facilitator. But then my ability with the tools increased and I became confident in the movements and as these developed over the next days they became one in striking the stone. Stone-chisel-mallet-hand-arm-shoulder-arm-hand-mallet-chisel-stone. And then the stone began to appear as something to me - four large pebbles from a storm beach tossed around and thrown against each other with the four shapes making one. An oscillation process began for myself; I would look and contemplate the stone, make some small decisions about the way I would like proceed, I would frame a little conscious plan that was just in reference to me and the stone. Then I put down planning and gave up to arm-hand-mallet-chisel. “Who is hitting the stone?” - now there is a Koan! And so it would go on.

At varying times I found myself becoming frustrated that I did not know where the shape was heading and I wanted to impose my own direction on it. A regular occurrence. I also became very annoyed with my inability to do everything perfectly first time. Another regular occurrence. It was surprising how this rather unusual task and supposedly creative endeavour produced all the usual irritations and little voices that come into my head whenever I am undertaking any job. Indeed all the little admonitions and instructions of my subtle ego, all the small thoughts that lie just underneath the usual conscious processes of living were very quickly brought into stark relief by this task. So whatever I did to the stone it always gave some sort of answer and posed a question and then I just had to continue and have another go of swinging the mallet. The mindfulness of the action and the focus of something so physical as hitting the chisel against the stone encouraged in me to consider the awareness necessary in all types of tasks in which we have to move our bodies to complete something purposeful.

The workshop began with us in silence but as the days passed the rules of silence lessened and still with focus we were able to share with others what we were each about. Watching the other workshop members it was obvious that everybody had related to the stone in a unique way that reflected their own life and approach to an active task - the stones were a statement of who we are and also of who we are not. In a very tiring and dirty workshop, its activities helped me in working with any type of implement, understand the way I go about tasks and certainly once again become aware of the bits of myself that can get in the way.

With all these processes going on within ourselves, Henry gently led us through the practice of making something in stone. He showed us the use of different chisels and files, the approach of different techniques of carving into the material and also eventually of making the shape smooth or textured to our choice. The use of the Buddhist practices of sitting, communication exercises, silent meals were all just enough to help me remain grounded and focused on stone carving - they were neither too little nor too much.

The usual experience of being on retreat is to leave with what you brought and a few things floating around inside yourself, but at this event, you actually get to take something home to show somebody. Ahhh, now, what bit of the ego is involved in that?