"Inside I'm always nervous, but I never look worried. Come for me."

I've redeveloped an interest in Koans (here's an index: http://www.ibiblio.org/zen/cgi-bin/koan-index.pl ) as of late. These are essentially "lessons" in Zen Buddhism consisting of a story, usually involving Zen masters and their students, which cannot be solved rationally or via any moral or emotional compass. The intent is to focus so much concentration and cognitive energy that one's mind stalls. My interest is in the mechanics of how these lessons work, but moreso in the penumbra they expose between emotion and reason. There are flaws in each, of course, and the ability to reside between the two would be extraordinarily useful at times.

I could generally be described as being rational. I put value on the products of science, am not given to believing in gods or superstitions, I tend to specifically not make decisions based on that which makes me cry. Our emotional senses bring great value to our life, it is through these that we enjoy art and each other. However, as a decision-making and problem-solving tool emotions tend to waver. We choose that which is easiest because it allows us to maintain relationships, we put ourselves or our immediate sphere on a pedestal and ignore the world or humanity as a whole, parents force their children to stay close and dependent out of fear, etc etc.

Reason on the other hand is very "useful". It allows us to write laws, build bridges and cure disease. However, I would posit that in some ways mankind's particular manifestation of reason is maladapted to truly understanding ourselves or our universe. It works too hard to deny the emotional aspect of life, it often stifles creativity in the nascent stages of understanding that require temporary lapses in rationality, it can make art seem superfluous. Our particular brand of reason (and I would say its arrogant to assume we've stumbled upon the "one true" reason) has been forged in the evolutionary furnace for eons, shaped for our particular survival in very particular environs.

Koans, and other practices such as psychedelics, meditation, and creating art, force us to marry these two disparate perspectives. I don't fully understand the Koans I have read, but in my attempts to grasp their full meaning I have found myself tempering reason with emotion or vice versa, and the result is something resembling neither. The result is a impossibly momentary self-awareness and a peace with the magnitude of the incomprehensible. Within minutes however, I find myself back to normal. Frustrated, stunted, struggling with happiness, reveling in sorrow, whatever.