Free of Limits > Zeni D'yo

Zeni D'yo, the art of the stack

August 12.

Sinkhole beach, Mendocino County.

The day's first stack that remained longer than a few minutes was an impossibly precarious endeavour that, had I noticed the lean while constructing it, I wouldn't have bothered with the attempt.
18/60+ [construction / lifespan, in minutes]. Eighteen minutes to build, and still standing after one hour.

August 24.

Russian Gulch, Sonoma County.

This stack marks the end of counting the foundation stone as the first rock. In the past, this tower would have labeled a seven-stone sculpture, but from this point forward it is a six.
It also marks the beginning of my process, as it was the first time I had to endure an audience of strangers. There's something about attempting the unfamiliar (especially while under scrutiny) that activates my mind and indeed, I drove myself nuts for at least an hour.
“Are they watching?” “Do they think I'm stupid?” “Maybe they don't want stacks on the beach.” “They're laughing at me.” “This stack isn't precarious enough.” “I suck at this.”
oh boy.... 22/04

After a good dozen stacks had risen and then fallen faster than I could get a good picture, I made my first attempt at a vertical zig-zag. During a short period of relative silence from the sunbathers, I stopped paying attention to my thoughts and built this one in about 15 minutes before stepping back to view it.
The "Wow!" I felt jump-started my mind again and, as I walked away, the stack fell. 15/02
On some level, my practice of Zeni D'yo is about finding and releasing those things that pull me out of stillness. At first my concern over other's perceptions had set my mind into overdrive, and then later my excitement at the accomplishment did the same. What these two triggers have in common is their end result of increased internal energy. So how to let those go?

121kb My first-ever cantilever.
The first twenty minutes spent on this beauty was all about getting the third (top) rock onto the second. Once settled, I set the two upon the first stone and spent another 10 minutes finding the only point where it all would balance. This is my favorite three-rock stack, ever. Ummm, so far.
Of course, I had to add one more, causing a rebuild.
35/20

The masterpiece crashes.
So, what I'd like to know is why the three stones still standing didn't tumble with the others. Take a look at that crack; it's now larger and still unnoticed by me.
I rebuilt the stacks beginning with the window, and then the crack gave way before a picture could be taken. These two photos below show the third stack's progress.

153kb Nine stones in front, and five in the back.
Final stack: 35/20+ (still standing when I left).
Total for this installation: 150/20+ (That's 2 1/2 hours to build!)

I walked back to my car with a calm sense of satisfaction shortly after a pair of beachcombers stopped by to say, “That's really amazing!”
“See?” I told my mind, “Those rediculous thoughts were all just fantasy.”
Zeni D'yo then, on another level, is all about separating fact from fiction. Or, more accurately, truth from significance. At 90° to that, we might say that it's about discerning between the present and the past.

August 31.

Sinkhole beach, Mendocino County.

Is it a stack or a pile?
Well, a stack is a balancing act and a pile is just a pile. This one is in between.
6/60+
After reviwing the last excursion's photos, I began making a conscious effort to show more contrast. In most of my previous photos the stacks washed out into the background, bringing me to the realization that I'm first a practitioner of Zeni D'yo, and hardly a photographer.
This stack is nearly four feet high, and uses some stones from my first stacking trip to the sinkhole.

132kb I love stacking wide stones on end.
I had to rebuild this one a dozen times, and eventually got the third stone righted correctly. 20/25
In moments of stillness, there is no mind, no time, no stone and no “me.” Just a sense of wholeness and a feeling of balance-becoming. Then I take a picture.

August 12.	Sinkhole beach, Mendocino County.
	The day's first stack that remained longer than a few minutes was an impossibly precarious endeavour that, had I noticed the lean while constructing it, I wouldn't have bothered with the attempt. 18/60+ [construction / lifespan, in minutes]. Eighteen minutes to build, and still standing after one hour.

August 24.	Russian Gulch, Sonoma County.
	This stack marks the end of counting the foundation stone as the first rock. In the past, this tower would have labeled a seven-stone sculpture, but from this point forward it is a six. It also marks the beginning of my process, as it was the first time I had to endure an audience of strangers. There's something about attempting the unfamiliar (especially while under scrutiny) that activates my mind and indeed, I drove myself nuts for at least an hour. “Are they watching?” “Do they think I'm stupid?” “Maybe they don't want stacks on the beach.” “They're laughing at me.” “This stack isn't precarious enough.” “I suck at this.” oh boy.... 22/04

	After a good dozen stacks had risen and then fallen faster than I could get a good picture, I made my first attempt at a vertical zig-zag. During a short period of relative silence from the sunbathers, I stopped paying attention to my thoughts and built this one in about 15 minutes before stepping back to view it. The "Wow!" I felt jump-started my mind again and, as I walked away, the stack fell. 15/02 On some level, my practice of Zeni D'yo is about finding and releasing those things that pull me out of stillness. At first my concern over other's perceptions had set my mind into overdrive, and then later my excitement at the accomplishment did the same. What these two triggers have in common is their end result of increased internal energy. So how to let those go?

121kb	My first-ever cantilever. The first twenty minutes spent on this beauty was all about getting the third (top) rock onto the second. Once settled, I set the two upon the first stone and spent another 10 minutes finding the only point where it all would balance. This is my favorite three-rock stack, ever. Ummm, so far. Of course, I had to add one more, causing a rebuild. 35/20

	The masterpiece crashes. So, what I'd like to know is why the three stones still standing didn't tumble with the others. Take a look at that crack; it's now larger and still unnoticed by me. I rebuilt the stacks beginning with the window, and then the crack gave way before a picture could be taken. These two photos below show the third stack's progress.

153kb	Nine stones in front, and five in the back. Final stack: 35/20+ (still standing when I left). Total for this installation: 150/20+ (That's 2 1/2 hours to build!) I walked back to my car with a calm sense of satisfaction shortly after a pair of beachcombers stopped by to say, “That's really amazing!” “See?” I told my mind, “Those rediculous thoughts were all just fantasy.” Zeni D'yo then, on another level, is all about separating fact from fiction. Or, more accurately, truth from significance. At 90° to that, we might say that it's about discerning between the present and the past.

August 31.	Sinkhole beach, Mendocino County.
	Is it a stack or a pile? Well, a stack is a balancing act and a pile is just a pile. This one is in between. 6/60+ After reviwing the last excursion's photos, I began making a conscious effort to show more contrast. In most of my previous photos the stacks washed out into the background, bringing me to the realization that I'm first a practitioner of Zeni D'yo, and hardly a photographer. This stack is nearly four feet high, and uses some stones from my first stacking trip to the sinkhole.

132kb	I love stacking wide stones on end. I had to rebuild this one a dozen times, and eventually got the third stone righted correctly. 20/25 In moments of stillness, there is no mind, no time, no stone and no “me.” Just a sense of wholeness and a feeling of balance-becoming. Then I take a picture.