To say that tenth period English class was one of the most enriching courses I have ever taken would be an understatement. I strutted into that class on the first day of senior year with fairly low expectations; I mean, it was only English class, right? Wrong. A syllabus was thrown our way with a list of books longer than the hike down the Grand Canyon, and on the top of that list was Robert Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance."
I thought to myself, why would anyone want to read a book about Buddhism, or how to maintain a motorcycle, and what does one have to do with the other? My perspective on this class immediately took a turn when I realized that my teacher was not planning on making senior year easy for us. Naturally, I sat down with my computer, opened up Sparknotes, typed in the title of the book -- nothing. I tried the search again, but this time, using the author's name. Still nothing. I slowly began falling into a panic. Not only did this woman give us a book about Buddhists and motorcycle buffs, but she also chose a book that is not on Sparknotes. Finally, I thought, a teacher who means business.
I was left with one final option -- read the book. Who knew it would only take until my senior year of high school to read one of our assigned books. Call it fate, call it luck, but this book -- the only book I ever read in high school -- has absolutely nothing to do with Buddhists or motorcyclists, for that matter, and it changed my life. It only took one woman whose faith in her students exceeded their ability to navigate Sparknotes, to help me see life through a deeper lens than I ever have before. It is not the top of the mountain that sustains life, right, Pirsig?
Pirsig uses "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" as his own personal Chautauqua to inspire his readers to live a life of authenticity, purpose, and quality. It's the story of Pirsig and his son traveling across the country on a motorcycle, with their two friends riding next to them. We learn that there are two ways the motorcycle can be interpreted: romantically and classically. He introduces us to Phaedrus, his internal consciousness, who forms his philosophy on quality. The story, which is essentially Pirsig's own travelogue, helps us -- as the readers -- explore our own life, simultaneously, as Pirsig explores his. He writes, "The place to improve the world is first in one's own heart and head and hands, and then work outward from there." After seven hours of reading, my life was forgotten. When I was brought back to consciousness, there were three people on that motorcycle.
Like Pirsig, I hope to use this blog as my own Chautauqua, sharing my life experiences and adventures with the world. We have to start somewhere, so this is where I begin.
