Customer Reviews

Nothing on My Mind: Berkeley, LSD, Two Zen Masters, and a Life on the Dharma Trail

5 star:		(2)
4 star:		(3)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(1)

 

 

I just finished this book a few days ago, and I am quite glad I read it. Mr. Storlie writes with an eloquent and absorbing voice, and he offers an authoritative and thoughtful perspective on psychedelic experimentation, the counterculture of the late 60s, and ultimately, Zen Buddhism. This book, for me, was like a delicious and nutritious meal served up at exactly the right time. This will not be the case for all readers. I should say that I am someone who has a specific curiosity for that bit of American history that took place when I was only a child and only vaguely aware of its power and dark underpinnings. I have heard it said that the political revolution of the late 60s began to falter at precisely the same time it began to transition into a cultural revolution. Without necessarily intending to do so, Storlie seems to support (as well as explore) that notion. But, for me, Storlie's narrative is most valuable for the perspective it offers on the growth and movement of Zen in American culture. I say this because a specific question has thrashed about in my own mind for at least ten years now, and that is: "Am I a Buddhist?" If you are like me, that is, you think you might be one, and perhaps would like to be able to call yourself one, but don't think you qualify, this book should be useful to you too. So, "thank you" to the very masterful artist and sensible human, E.F. Storlie.

Yes, the chief virtue of this book is its honesty, its lack of glamour. In contrast to the enlightenment stories of The Three Pillars of Zen, it is more along the lines of the books by Janwillem van de Wetering (The Empty Mirror, etc.) in that it isn't terribly romantic and dramatic. He sits a lot. He learns some things, but he's still very human.

I disagree with the reviewer who found it pretentious. I think the author is intelligent enough to know that he is exposing himself. I think he realizes he was a typical Berkeley nincompoop unable to say no to any proferred drug or intoxicant. There is none of the fatuousness of D.T. Suzuki's writings.

Normally we have the courtesy, the good manners, to cover up our arrogance, pretensions, and self-centeredness. But he does not do this. I give him high marks for this, but I agree with the reviewer who commented that he wished for more positives.

It certainly does not convince me that I should commit thirty years to zazen. But perhaps he has done me a service leading me to believe that formal Zen in the Soto Church is not for me. But I think it would be a worthwhile read for anyone who, like me, is interested in the history of Zen in America.

I wouldn't have given this book 5 stars when I first read it. 3.5, perhaps. But, I believe that one measure of worth is how often you think of something as time passes (and much of what you've read is long forgotten).

Since reading it six years ago, I've often thought about this book. It's a tale of imperfection, a man striving for something that he never quite attains. It's not world-class literature or a deeply spiritual book to lead you towards enlightenment. However, in his own way Storlie captures the human condition/struggle very well. I won't say much more than that. Read it. Don't expect much. Maybe you'll be surprised.

Its not easy making cultural transitions, and the transplanting of zen from japan to america has its rough spots. Suzuki said "I can show you my japanese zen, but you'll have to make your own american zen." Storlie conveys his own struggles, awkward changes and personal difficulties; I wish that the taste of his successes been sweeter. The bitterness of what he hasn't achieved remain longer on the tongue. Chazen Ichimi

A valuable first-hand gonzo-historical account of many of the second generation of Zen teachers in America. Read this along with 'How the Swans Came to the Lake', for more nitty gritty detail of what it really takes to get a Zen Center going on a day-to-day basis. Though the author has few dramatic 'Three Pillars' type 'enlightenment' stories to relate, then again, neither do most long-term Zennies! But at the end, equanimity arises nevertheless, amazing! Bodhi, Svaha!

Storlie's retelling of his journey was a treat. It was an entertaining read while uplifting. The beauty of it all is the honesty in his struggle. There is no hiding the conflict of life which Storlie is quick to point out.

The guest appearances were also fun additions (Suzuki Roshi, Timothy Leary). By the end of the book, the reader still questions what the point of his story is. It seems like Storlie's journey is still in process. This is where the enjoyment of reading this book is - it is a snippet of the path for which we all are on in different ways.

With the practice of being present, writing a zen "memoir seems like a dicey proposition. And critiquing a zen memoir and even more perilous endeavor...lol. The recounting of his life does not attempt to make sense of or understand anything, so its got that going for it...lol. However, being lost in memories while sitting zazen in a forest seems like the kind of activity which would be rewarded by the keisaku stick by Katagiri Roshi.

Of course, someone has to document what went on in the formative years of the San Francisco and Minneapolis Zen Centers, don't they?

The author demonstrates his deep involvement in every hip trend of the last 40 years. His writing skills can't sustain it. By the time he casually shoos away a mother bear and her cub because they were disturbing his meditation, I was hoping she would bite him. There are much better Zen autobiographies available, such as Thank You and OK! by David Chadwick, and Ambivalent Zen by Laurence Shainberg. There must be better examples of drug nostalgia, too. Also, this guy seems fixated on his bottom. Is that a Zen thing?

The San Francisco/Berkeley world of the 60s provided fertile ground for all manner of spiritual, political, social and artistic experiments. In this book, author Storlie recounts the then-common intersection of drug experimentation and Zen practice, and how the former led to a more lasting embrace of the latter.

The book is in two halves. The first half talks about the author's drug trips and his introduction to Zen. Apparantly, drug experimentation in the 60s happened in a context where it was necessarily seen as a spiritual quest. People who liked reading the "Don Juan" books will enjoy the author's retelling of the high and low points of several drug trips; I didn't, because I've never seen drugs as a spiritual tool, rather the opposite. Once the author finally comes to the same conclusion -- that drugs point to enlightenment but cannot lead there -- he takes up Zen practice more seriously, and becomes a student of Dainin Katagiri and one of the founders of the Minnesota Zen Center. That's the book's second half.

Throughout the book, the author constantly reminds us that, for all his time as a hippie, drug user, and zen practitioner, he is really a very manly hiker and useful handyman. He recounts several daring hiking trips, and the whole book is told from the perspective of a day spent hiking and meditating in the wilderness near his mountain hut. There was a bit too much of this for my taste.

In summary, this book is informative about the establishment of Zen in America in the 1960s through the 80s, but weakened by the author's incessant self-focus and self-promotion.