The World-wide Web

Tipping the hat in various directions today:  The zen beginner has a great post that I had to look at a couple of times to get straight, as I couldn't believe at first that such a product existed. I guess it does. I prefer his version though.
Second, a new blog for the roll: the aforementioned Michaela and Koji are about to head out from here to land sooner or later in New Orleans. According to the numbers crunched by the stats department, only seventeen people in Louisiana have ever read this blog (the same is true of Belgium incidentally), but I wish for them the support of the wider sangha as they undertake this great venture.
Finally, earlier this week, David Coady's aunt and uncle stopped in at City Center, visiting from Florida; I had the chance to say hello to them, and they said that they were regular readers of this blog, and had found it helpful to read about the community he lived in. I was touched to hear this, and wish them all the best during this painful time.

Familiar Faces

This week Zen Center is hosting a number of distinguished guests: on Monday, we had several members of the SZBA board staying, and yesterday we had members of the AZTA arriving. If the acronyms are a little mysterious, the former is the Soto Zen Buddhist Association, which means that they are all in Dogen's lineage, while the latter is the American Zen Teachers Association, which casts its net a little wider. Either way, they are all lovely people, I have met a few of them before - especially when we had the SZBA conference here a couple of years ago - and it is wonderful to have so many senior teachers in the building.
The zendo was nicely full this morning, though luckily we did not start to overflow, as I had been concerned might happen, and the Buddha Hall likewise. I should add for readers who are new practitioners that teachers coming from other centers can be just as mystified about the particular forms we have here at Zen Center as you might be, so there has been some gentle guidance about where to stand, how to exit and so forth.
This morning was also the 28th day memorial for David, and Abbot Steve was the doshi. The chanting was very strong with so many extra voices, and again, the fact that we were chanting the Dai Hi Shin Dharani in the morning brought the occasion home to me, feelings which the beautiful eko augmented.
I was just looking through some old City Center pictures for shots of the SZBA, and came across this one of David working in the kitchen - he was on the crew when I was tenzo, so we spent many hours working side my side.

I have also been meaning to write about how much I have enjoyed having Teah back in the zendo on a regular basis - she sat the sesshin the other week -  and how moved I was to see her being doshi again as she has been recently. I think this may be due to the fact that she was tanto when I first arrived at City Center, so perhaps it triggers memories of those early days, as does seeing Blanche in the zendo, which she is more and more again. It makes it seem like things are the way they should be - though of course they always are.
This is probably my favourite picture of Teah, taken after Liping's shuso ceremony last year.

Marking Time

There had been some discussion about what format the 21st day memorial ceremony for David was going to take. After the first iteration, last week we did a short service in the zendo as it was the fourth, and we also had the Suzuki Roshi memorial to do. In the end Paul wanted us to continue having the ceremony in the morning, so we had the first half of the regular Thursday service, and then chanted the Dai Hi Shin Dharani, followed by the special dedication.
Even though attendance in the zendo has been quite low this week, the Dai Hi Shin Dharani sounded very strong, suitably grave. Perhaps I am just used to doing it in the afternoons now, when there are even fewer people, most of whom are not so familiar with it.
Because I was in sesshin, I did not get to attend the cremation ceremony last week, and I am noticing in myself that a sense of finality is missing around David: I am aware of his absence in different ways and in various circumstances, but then this week I am also aware of the absence of all the participants in the intensive, who had formed such an integral part of the community in the preceding weeks. I suppose this is why so many cultures have a tradition of sitting with the body, so that you can get used to the idea that the person really is gone. Even doing the ceremony we did on the afternoon before sesshin, Paul purifying his room with wisdom water while a group of us circumambulated it chanting the Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo, moving as it was, did not quite bring it home to me.

Hymn To The Perfection Of Wisdom

I hadn't wanted to ask anyone to take over the Friday morning kokyo spot, which David had been doing for a long time - at least not yet. It seemed the easiest thing was to do it myself; I always enjoy being kokyo, and I know how hard it is to do the solo for the Hymn to the Perfection of Wisdom, having got my breathing all wrong one of the times I had done it in the past.
I wasn't expecting to be so moved by doing it. I noticed how much softer my voice sounded than usual; it wasn't that I was trying to channel David's way of chanting, but also, thinking of him as I chanted, I couldn't help but hear his voice, and that was more powerful than anything else.
After the closing bows, the doan slightly mis-hit a bell, and she and I looked at each other and pulled little faces, which changed the mood. And then, when I had gone back up to my office during soji, someone came to say they wanted to take on the kokyo position as an offering; I had had someone else in mind to take it over, who I knew would do a lovely job, but I had also been thinking that I should give a kokyo position to the person who was offering anyway, so it seems to fit very well.
Before service I had dokusan. After I had settled on the cushion, Paul asked, "What is Buddha mind?" I replied, "Thinking about sesshin".

Evening Assembly, Morning Assembly

It was decided that instead of the usual Wednesday evening lecture we would meet in small groups to have a chance to express how we were doing - just residents, the intensive participants, some close friends, and David's two brothers, who arrived yesterday. Seeing them and talking with them earlier allowed for uncanny flashes of resemblance with David, in their features, mannerisms, ways of speaking and the same quick dry humour, even in this situation where propriety counsels staidness.
Michael, the older brother, ended up with the group I was in with the Abbot in the dokusan room, eight of us all together, in a circle on the tatamis, a formal and sombre setting. Of the other residents, I will name Gretchen mainly to have a reason to point people who might not have come across it to her post from a few days ago. We had an hour, which allowed everyone to say what they felt they needed to say. As with last Friday's meeting, many different moods were expressed; apart from the grief and sense of loss, Michael cracked us all up with a story from their childhood. I talked about how I felt I had little space for a personal reaction with all that was going on, and also remembered a Saturday morning when we were having breakfast in the zendo a year or more ago: the server brought the pot with the miso soup, and I was waiting for them to stir it up with the ladle, to see the cloud of miso once again rise from the bottom. Only, when the soup was stirred, it remained clear. I went up afterwards and asked David, who had cooked the breakfast, about this phenomenon, and he slapped his forehead with the flustered realisation that he had made miso soup without miso, which, we both knew, was going to become one of those stories that would get told around Zen Center for years to come.
Afterwards all the groups came together in the grey light of the courtyard, a typical summer evening cool breeze blowing, to fill the space with the chanting of the Refuges.

This morning we had the first of what will be seven memorial services, to take us through the traditional forty-nine day period. During the Dai Hi Shin Dharani, everyone stood up and took a turn to offer incense as we chanted. I am not sure where we got the dedications for these services from; each makes an appeal to a different buddha or bodhisattva, and the phrasing is unlike anything else we use. I was moved by these lines this morning:

Kindly we pray that in the realm of life and death this one person Seizan Yushin, like the precious Dragon Jewel, will shine as the emerald sea, clear and complete, as the clear blue sky, in the Dharma everywhere, and will serve as a guide for the world in ascending the path to enlightenment.

Afterwards, at breakfast, the almonds in our third bowls were still crackling as they cooled.

The Benji Poem

Friends and family continue to leave moving comments on the various posts from the last few days, and I encourage everyone to read them. I am happy to be able to offer this as a forum for people to express themselves, and today I would like to share this - the benji poem that we referred to on Friday, which was passed on to me. As a bit of context for those not familiar with the set-up, the benji is the attendant - I think side-kick might sum it up best in David's case - to the shuso, the head monk for a practice period. They work together, cleaning toilets, at Tassajara taking care of the trash, recycling and compost, and perform ceremonies together. The shuso meets every student for tea, one by one usually, and the benji prepares the tea and bakes the cookies or other treats - Ren was commenting on the beauty of David's tea arrangements a day or so ago. At the end of the practice period, the shuso ceremony is the chance for the shuso to meet every student's question with dharma words. It is always a special occasion, and the benji pretty much kicks off the proceedings with the poem, which are designed to encapsulate the intimacy of the preceding months.

Ren the shuso - and photographer - and David the benji after the shuso ceremony

Mindful Of Transiency

There was a big crowd at the talk this morning - Liping had brought her qigong students for a visit, as she does from time to time - and I have also been thinking about the big crowd that was not in the room. The sangha here has many forms and layers, residents, former residents, friends, families, people who are just interested or curious, and we are all touched at times like this. This blog has received many more visitors than usual around the deaths that have happened in the past eight months, and since yesterday morning there have been 750 visitors to the first post that I wrote about David. One life spreads out and affects so many others, in a way that none of us can fully dream of.
Paul's talk was perfect for the occasion. When I got up to make the announcements afterwards, I found that I was quite emotional - I had been thinking about nenju, and its purpose of allowing each of us to express in bowing our gratitude to one another for our practice during the week, and wanted to encourage those who didn't want to do that as part of a ceremony just to take the opportunity to express gratitude to each other anyway, and connect with other people who were here today.
For the ceremony itself, which did draw a larger number of people than usual, I was the kokyo, which is always one of my favourite things to do. I was looking back at old posts, and it seems I have posted this before, but it has been a while, so here it is again. Today the words contained for me more energetic significance than they commonly do, and I could feel the emotion coming out again in my voice:

Carefully listen everyone.
24 centuries 97 years ago the Great Tathagata entered nirvana.
When this day is gone, your life also decreases.
Like a fish in a puddle, what pleasure is there here?
We are to practice constantly, as if to save our head from fire.
Mindful of transiency, pursue the path with diligence and care.
Throughout Hosshinji the Dharma safely resides,
      bringing all peace.
Everyone in ten directions knows an increase in joy
      and growth in wisdom.
Thankfully we recite the names of Buddha.

Sunset from the roof last Sunday night

Sitting and Talking

This morning's intensive class turned into a chance for us all to reflect and to express ourselves, our grief, our understanding, our lack of understanding. One thing that was said by several people was that David didn't know, or couldn't properly take in, how much he was loved, and I know how this was true; he would deflect such talk, and perhaps laugh nervously. He was loved because he had such a big and genuine heart, as many people have said today, along with the sharp brain that caused him to suffer. One person followed this up with a wish that we all allow ourselves to believe this of ourselves, that we are loved, just for who we are, no matter what we may think.
I was glad that we got to go back to the zendo at the end of the morning and in the afternoon, allowing ourselves to settle on the cushion. Other than that, my day involved giving lots of hugs, which I found easier to do, and perhaps more mutually beneficial, than trying to give voice to my feelings.
This evening, a community meeting in the dining room. We formed a circle of chairs like we do for residents' meeting, only there were maybe eighty of us, and we made an unwieldy shape filling the room. Which did not stop it being a very intimate ninety minutes, sharing our presence and holding our experiences together. We do intimacy very well here, but as was pointed out, this does not prevent us sometimes being too busy to stop and connect with each other in a meaningful way, ways that can make a huge difference to the person on the receiving end.
For me the most touching moment was when Ren read out the wonderful benji poem that David had written for her, which someone had printed out; I was in the zendo at Tassajara when David read it, three and a half years ago, and I heard his voice and saw his mannerisms. Paul spoke last, more personally than abbatially, and reiterated what he said at service: isn't this what we do - sit, be open and raw? We ended with a refrain from Leonard Cohen, a big favourite of David's, and then of course the Refuges, deep and sonorous in the circle.

The old Birdhouse, where David lived at Tassajara

The Morning Schedule

Last night those of us who were up were mostly sombre; this morning the tears and distress were to the fore. At the end of the jundo I invited people who wished to assist with the ringing of the densho; Paul and Blanche did the first prostrations and strikes, and after I had taken my turn, I was deeply moved to see a long line of residents along the hallway, each of us affected by what has happened. We sat through the two periods as it didn't seem right to get up for kinhin while the bell was ringing.
At the beginning of the service, the same that we have already done several times in the past year, Paul addressed the assembly with some simple and effective words; chanting the Enmei Jukku twenty one times had its own power and effect, and I could hear people crying as Tova did the dedication:

He has entered solitude with his karmic forces.
He has gone into a vast Silence.
He is borne away by the Great Ocean of birth and death.

Everyone had the chance to offer incense afterwards. I think many of us were very aware that usually on a Friday morning, David would be the kokyo as we chanted the Diamond Sutra, after which he would come in with a solo rendition of the Hymn to the Perfection of Wisdom, which he always did very sweetly and beautifully with a soft voice that often moved me.
After the bows in the kaisando, Paul, Tova and I consulted and felt that it would be helpful if we had a community meeting tonight for people to be able to share their feelings and support each other. It had been felt that oryoki would not be right this morning, as it would have taken people away from the service, so we all ate silently in the dining room together.  After the work meeting senior staff checked in with each other in Tova's office, each expressing how we were feeling, and helping each other to stay strong, not just for ourselves, but for others who would be looking to us for help and leadership. I am aware that some of those who are just here for the intensive might be feeling a little on the outside of this community grieving, and as Paul said, we continue to practise, mindfully, because this is why we practise.

The first part of David's dharma name, given to him at Tassajara, was Blue Mountains. These were his mountains.

A Death In The Family

Roger knocked hard on my door last night just as I was thinking of going to bed; David C had been found dead. Down on the second floor, I hugged one of his closest friends, and she sobbed on my shoulder for a while. People were down in the Buddha Hall chanting, she said, but she wanted to stay up here closer to his room. I went to join the chanting, the Dai Hi Shin Dharani and the Sho Sai Myo, and fetched a chant sheet from a recent memorial service so that we could close with the usual dedication.
I made the decision that we should ring the 108 bells in the morning so that everyone would have a chance to participate, and went around putting together the elements for that, and finding the service that we did the morning after Jerome's death, and Lou's; we found his dharma name, and I put name cards and photos on the altars. When the body left the building with the medical examiner, about twenty of us accompanied it onto the street, softly chanting the Enmei Jukku over and over until the ambulance had turned the corner, then we returned inside with our arms around each other.
I practised with David for a number of years, first at Tassajara, and then here. He was always so likeable, easy-going, smart, with a line in self-deprecating humour, beneath which was a deep and ongoing struggle around self-worth. I used to think of him as being like one of the monks in the great assembly of the koan stories - not the ones the stories would be about, but one of those practising diligently and hoping for their own breakthrough. Recently things had been hard for David, not finding a job despite having recently finished a couple of years at school. I had talked to him last week about things that were coming up for him, an offer from a friend to go and live back on the east coast that he was conflicted about. There had been a lot of discussion this week among senior people about how we could support him through these challenges, but in the end, all the support and the good-will of a close community cannot always be enough if someone's mind is not at ease.

David at the work circle in Tassajara

David as benji after Ren's shuso ceremony

David with Stephen on the Stone Office lawn, a picture I always felt summed up life at Tassajara in the winter