Zen and the Art of Audiobooks

I’ve been trying to get into the audiobook world for years, and finally broke through, getting two books in one month. What I hadn’t fully understood, though, was how taxing the work can be. The latest volume I’ll be reading is thicker than the yellow pages, and we’ve got to get it done in four days.

After several hours of reading aloud, the mind goes numb. Try it some time and you’ll understand. The voice, too, strains and cracks, but that seems minor compared to losing all faculty for language.

But, forever seeking to understand the intersection of my meditative practice and my professional life, it dawned on me that audiobooks were a gift from the heavens. Not only do I enjoy the work immensely, but the recording sessions are a chance to deepen my practice. Time on the cushion and time in the booth are alarmingly similar.

The body is still, erect but not rigid, for a long period. A quiet comes over the room. The mind wanders, and we are asked to bring it back. We notice our discursive thoughts and learn not to judge them, for the judging simply interferes with the task at hand. And when we rise, and shake the stiffness from our bones, we are transformed.

The world outside moves at a different pace. The sounds seems crisper, the angle of the light more acute. And the mind, though exhausted, is refreshed.

I wonder how many other activities in life are equally similar, or at least have that possibility.  I wonder…