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[jclo3313]

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Man boobs.
There is an art exhibit in New York I’d really like to see, but won’t be able to make: “Awakenings: Zen Figure Painting in Medieval Japan,” sponsored by the Japan Society. See the guy just above? That’s a work from the exhibit — a late 15th-early 16th century image of Budai (“Hotei” in Japnese), a “marauding priest of the street.”

He looks a little weird for a priest, doesn’t he? Check out the pot belly, the man boobs, the five o’clock shadow, the robe that’s two sizes too small and full of rips and holes, and probably hasn’t been washed in about a month … if you saw a guy like that walking through your neighborhood, you’d probably call the cops. And look at the expression on Hotei’s face. He is completely comfortable with his life, himself, and the way he looks, and if you don’t like it, well, that’s your problem.

One of the aspects of Zen figure art that is so appealing to me is the depiction of major Zen Buddhist figures as regular guys. It’s really hard to imagine a similar depiction of Jesus in traditional Western Christian art, looking as he may have actually appeared: a skinny, scraggly, half-naked, dirty little brown guy, an enigmatic half-smile on his face. Most of the time, he looks like a member of the Allman Brothers — maybe Duane and Greg’s long lost brother, Jesus Allman. And Jesus is typically depicted with a huge smarmy smile and an outstretched hand like he’s running for city alderman, or else is given the primly stern look of the school hall monitor, the overly serious kid with no friends whom the teacher always asked to take names when she had to leave the class.

Of course, there are plenty of boring images of Buddha in that traditional pose of serene adrogyny – looking a little like a glam era David Bowie who’s had a frontal lobotomy. I don’t care much for those. But that image of Hotei I can relate to. Not necessarily that we should all wander around fat and half naked, but that we should simply be what we are and be comfortable with that – stop trying to conform to someone else’s rigid, impossible physical ideal. That’s one of the things I like about trail running, because many people who run trail races are far from the accepted ideal for physical specimens – there’s little of that aggressive hyper-leanness I often seem to encounter in some urban marathoning circles. Most trail runners I’ve met seem very comfortable in their own skins. And that’s also what I like about a lot of Zen figure art. Here I am: back and ear hair, bald head, pot belly and all. Gotta love me, because this is all there is.