A few nights ago, after a little more than a week and roughly 8 recorded hours of playtime, I put an end yet again to the diabolical Dr. Wily. After many trips into the villain’s hideout, I bested his machinations through perseverance, skill and about 3 E Tanks saved up for the final fight. Firing that last shot was as sweet as ever, and the payout was just as satiating. The experience really was a blast from start to finish, and a cross section of alot of emotions I've felt before.

Most interesting for me was the feeling of fighting that Third Stage boss during my victory run at Wily's Castle. At first tackle, the boss seemed too much to handle and beyond successful figuring. On that last run, it was like water. Where I was once cautious and calculating, I was calm and present. It wasn't anticipation of movement anymore. It wasn't even recalling the memorized pattern and reacting to memory. On that last run, it just happened. It was like I *felt* the boss pattern. I *felt* the music. I floated through the boss fight, knowing the sequence with light awareness.

Some might call it mystical. Zen.



Zen and The Point Of Reference

Back in 1948, a German philosophy professor by the name of Eugen Herrigel wrote a book about his experiences learning Japanese Kyudo archery from monk-like masters of the art. They were capable of amazing feats of archery, hitting seemingly impossible bulls eyes and completing the most dangerous of shots at one another. He spent six years studying among them, in search of understanding the spiritual nature of their skill. There must have been some higher spiritual feeling behind this power of marksmanship.

By the end of his study he'd found an answer that was both practical and mystical. The archers, after years of study in the most rudimentary tasks, and ever slowly progressing in their skills, would come to a point perfect execution. As quoted by Wikipedia, for convenience:

"The archer ceases to be conscious of himself as the one who is engaged in hitting the bull's-eye which confronts him. This state of unconscious is realized only when, completely empty and rid of the self, he becomes one with the perfecting of his technical skill, though there is in it something of a quite different order which cannot be attained by any progressive study of the art..."

In the most romantic sense, the archer enters "the zone", performing complex action as if it were second nature. Spirituality takes over. Something in the mind takes over and it’s not an archer firing an arrow anymore. Its purist Zen . . .



Bullshit?

Strip it of its fable, though, and its simple muscle memory. You know, like when a zombie keeps doing those things they did when they were living, because its just what their muscles do. Yep, that whole thing. There's maybe no spirituality in it all. Just that thing you do because you've done it forever. Does it really need to be more than that? You can get machines to that with a line of code. The spirit is bullocks and the body is everything, right?

And that's where it comes back in on Mega Man 9 for me. I've played enough Mega Man games to know all these moves already. I've spent a majority of my life pushing these buttons, reacting to these flickering lights and entering the right responses. The situation changes. The result is often imperfect for a new situation. But the building blocks are there for these preprogrammed muscle movements to execute of their own will, leaving the mind to wander.

And wander it does, to the nearest step for a mind caught in the middle of an activity: "Dude, what you're doing is awesome!". Free of managing that movement, the mind becomes the camera. You're at once the athlete and the spectator. Maybe that mysticism isn't the presence of divine, but rather the freedom to appreciate the beauty of raw action? Its somewhere in the middle of spirituality and self-appreciation. That particular feeling is something I'd felt most potently as a student, playing tuba in college.

= ?
"the Princess turning sharply away, her tuba bell lashing at him with contempt"

After graduation, I sought advise from all of my performance instructors on what I could do next. I think they all knew that no matter what course I'd take, be it military band, freelancing, or teaching, I would be chasing after those college days. One professor in particular told me that I had probably passed the most gratifying moments as a musician that I would ever feel. He didn't say this from a place of malice or in critique of my skill. His statement was squarely about the feeling of fulfillment that can come from being a full time scholar and musician.

With whole days out of years dedicated to practice, being a student allowed me to be introspective. To seek that spiritual connection through intellectual and physical skill pursuits. I was free to "pursue the Princess", so to speak, and to thrill at the freedom to seek her. It wasn't a feeling I would likely ever feel from turning that passion for creation into a paycheck. It hurt to hear it, but I understood it. The reality of that sticks with me to this day.



But two nights ago, I experienced it again. That satisfaction of self-awareness in action. That feeling of mastery beyond tangible research and exercise. For a moment or two in a video game, I had that familiar trance state I had come across so often as a student musician. I was mastering the sequence, and oblivious of it. I was in action, and relieved in a momentary state of self-satisfaction. Just from a few nights of chasing that end goal.

The presence of a true spiritual experience is debatable. But that feeling of self-aware clarity and appreciation of actualization? It’s as real as a new 8-bit Mega Man adventure, and just as priceless. I hope you feel it one day for yourself, because I sure have.