I have a “Zen job,” I am the Ino or the head of the meditation hall of the San Francisco Zen Center. My job is to take care that everything is in its place, so that the practice happens in harmony.

My day starts early, at 5:00, just after the wake up bell, I check the zendo (meditation room), the light must be soft, the window open to circulate the air. On the altar, the candle should be lit and with a correct size and the incenser centralized.

People start to arrive and I’m the one who welcome them and tells them where to sit. Three hits on the bell, zazen begins, after half an hour two hits to start the Kinhin (walking meditation). Another 3 hits and another zazen period. The taiko (Japanese drum) marks the time, the Han prepares us for the verse of Okesa. “Great robe of liberation, field far beyond form and emptiness, vearing the Tathagata’s teaching Saving all beings.”

At the end of Zazen we go to the Buddha Hall, I check the lights, if the candles are lid, the mat centralized. I confirm if the officiant (Doshi) and his assistant, (Jisha or jiko) are ready.
The ceremony begins. Every day in the morning we do the repentance, we take refuge in Buddha, Dharma and Shanga, after that the sutras. Eyes and ears alert. How is the sound of the mokugyo (instrument that sets the rhythm), how are the bells sounding? At the end of the ceremony I give feedback to the people who participated.

During the day I take care of what is coming, ceremonies, sesshin (retreats). At the end of the day, I sit zazen again, it is when people come from outside of Zen Center, who comes from the work to practice.

This is my day by day. Taking care of details and having the vision of the whole. Paying attention to each one and overall flow. All this for us to practice together.

What is it to be the the giver of joy to the assembly? That the heart of Sanga becomes my own heart? That the practice of all becomes my own practice?

In the Zendo, almost everyone sits facing the wall, Ino, Abbot, Tanto (practice supervisor) sit facing the center of the room, is part of my zazen to pay attention in what is happening.

But more than that, to pay attention that the practice happens smoothly and to encourage people to practice. Knowing that I have presence like a host, caring with love for my guests. Zen love is a subtle care, it is to take care of the silence.

Coming And Going

It is always interesting to watch our expectations get confounded. This was my last weekday morning sitting in the ino seat in the zendo, so I wanted it to be a nice calm and spacious time. Instead, my alarm clock didn't go off, so I was a little groggy and rushed, the emergency light right above my head in the zendo started to flash in an unusual way, there was a smoke detector beeping periodically in the hallway somewhere, and I was handed a note that the shoten wasn't feeling well, so I had to think about a replacement.
It was also my last time bringing out the tsui-ching. Naturally I was thinking back to my first time with it, when we entered Liping as the shuso (I wasn't writing the blog then, but I reflected on it a year later). Today as well I reminded myself not to be in a rush, as we said goodbye to Konin (not for the first time, as I find this, looking for the other posts I am linking to, which also has a fuller description of the ceremony). She being quite adept, we had not discussed the form for the ceremony ahead of time, and I noticed I was a little disappointed when I came back round to the tsui-ching after the jundo to find she had turned to face Blanche. Normally, making the announcement face to face is the strongest part of the ceremony for me. My voice, which can range between fierce (my impression anyway) and soft (how I remember it with Roxie, for instance), seemed plain straight-forward this time. Vicki asked the questions, which Konin handled deftly, and Blanche gave the stirring goodbyes for us.
Senior staff were scheduled to have lunch together today, to mark the dissolution of this particular incarnation with its built-in European majority - we were saying goodbye to Konin, Rose the tenzo, who is going back to Switzerland for a year to be a grandmother, and myself. Luckily, we avoided any embarrassing speechifying, and just got to enjoy the good food and the good company.

A Big Do With Baker Roshi

Today really started in earnest at soji. The sitting was peaceful - we kept the lights off, and although there wasn't a spectacular sunrise effect this morning, it was nice to watch the light growing as we sat.
At soji, there was the Buddha Hall to set up, seats to reserve for many distinguished guests, extra cushions and chairs to be fetched and set out. I almost missed breakfast as I wanted to get things to certain point before stopping. And then I had to rig the dining room projection system for the overflow live video feed. Luckily things were all functioning as they should, which left me time to get some coffee before returning to the zendo.
I had started worrying yesterday that maybe some of the big crowd that we were expecting might want to come and sit first, but since we were all running around all day, I had decided against the extra work of putting out floor cushions. As the han started, it seemed like just the regulars were showing up; right at 9:25 there was a late influx, but it turned out to be just enough to fill every seat we had without needing the extras.
Upstairs was a different story - the Buddha Hall was already full when people came up from the zendo, and the dining room was filling fast. I was glad I had a spot for myself, though I wasn't sure how I was going to reach it.
And in fact, once I had sat down, and Valorie the jisha had turned the mic on, I realised there was a problem. One of my rechargeable batteries doesn't hold a charge very well, and the other one had gone missing while I was at Green Gulch; I could immediately see that the dodgy one wasn't going to last the talk, so I grabbed a spare and barged inelegantly around the edge of the room to replace it during the opening chant. Except the spare must have also been used in sesshin, as it had very little juice left, so I had to retrace my steps, and get the other spares - luckily I always keep a handful. The third one looked fine, and I gave the fourth one to Valorie just in case.
I didn't get to concentrate much on the talk after that even, as I was keeping a close eye on levels, and following what was going on with the Livestream. What I did catch onto sounded deep and subtle, and I will definitely listen to it all again. He started by dealing quickly and skillfully with the end of his abbacy, which defused any tension there may have been, and ended with a beautiful and moving vignette about Suzuki Roshi on his deathbed.
I felt a little more nervous than usual getting up to make my announcements - there were six other abbots in attendance as well as so many other people with a long and distinguished history here - and having forgotten to introduce myself as I intended, I kept them as brief as possible so as to hand over to Susan who was launching the public phase of Zen Center's Capital Campaign.
When we reconvened for the question and answer session, again, as far as I was able to concentrate, there were strong and clear answers to a whole variety of inquiries, including a number from the Livestream viewers, and as he bowed out, Baker Roshi said that it had felt very comfortable being here, which I think has been the experience all round.
I took a few pictures of the talk, but none of them came out well - I was a little more successful with the question and answer session, and also with Baker Roshi's chat afterwards with the Livestream crew - he seemed very interested in that set-up, as indeed he has been these past few days about many aspects of the current life and practice of the temple he helped create.

The Buddha Hall crowd awaiting the lecture

The dining room with the live video feed

Baker Roshi during the question and answer session

Baker Roshi with Dianne, David, Tanya and Laura of the Livestream crew

I was surprised and  happy to see Gaelyn today. This is me with her and Siobhan, who is just back from Olympic London.

Pancakes For Breakfast

Ahead of the big fiftieth anniversary weekend, we had scheduled a daisoji, an hour of temple cleaning. We were all to wear work clothes to the zendo; I had posted a sign at the top of the stairs to remind people, and last night I moved my robes from their usual place in the closet as I know how little conscious thinking I am capable of before five in the morning.
I was tracking people as they came into the zendo, wondering if we would get a good turn-out or if people would take this as an excuse to stay in bed. When it came to the work, though, I even saw a few people who hadn't made it to zazen, diligently cleaning away. I busied myself in the kaisando, cleaning the top of the picture rails, the screens on the window, the altar and especially the black lacquer floor.
Todd had made pancakes for breakfast, which was a lovely thing to have after such an active time. As we sat down, it was quite evident that the energy was very different from a usual morning - there was a real buzz in the room, a sense of shared accomplishment. Christina thought that we should try doing this once a month, just to have this feeling in the temple regularly.
I have commented before about having multiple abbots about the place, and this morning, the table I sat at became a rather exalted four-abbot table, with Richard Baker, Blanche, Steve and Christina all together - not to mention the tanto, director and ino. We heard the old admonition that if the abbot did not take part in soji, the jisha had to leave the monastery, as well as a lovely story from the seventies about Jerry Brown, newly elected as governor, trying to enter Tassajara during practice period. The monk at the gate wanted to turn him away, but Baker Roshi remembered that in Chinese monasteries, the gates were always open to local government officials and major donors to come and inspect. I think something similar will be happening here over the next few days as well.

The kaisando floor a couple of years ago after the lacquer was refinished

Coming And Going

Roxie and I were half way around the jundo for her leaving ceremony, and I realised I was going to have a protocol issue ahead. Richard Baker had arrived at Zen Center on Tuesday evening, and this morning he was sitting in the seido seat, the one designated for senior teachers or visiting dignitaries. I had noticed that he had chosen to sit facing the wall during zazen. I was debating the possibilities, and almost overshot Paul and Steve's empty seats, where we turn and bow; the form of the jundo is that for the Abbess, Abbot, tanto, and senior teachers like Blanche, who was there this morning, instead of passing them by in gassho with head bowed as we do for other members of the assembly, we turn and do a gassho bow with them; they are standing upright rather than with head bowed as you approach, which is your visual cue. As I rounded the last corner, I could see that Baker Roshi was standing, next to Robert, the doshi for the morning, with his head bowed. But it would have felt wrong just to pass him by, so I turned to bow to him before returning to the tsui-ching to make my announcement.
After we had left the zendo, and I had given her a hug, Roxie apologised for the slight mis-steps that she had made during the ceremony, and I said to her that the feeling is the important thing, and that the feeling had been good. I have often used this guideline as ino, where sometimes you have to improvise forms or create them, but equally when I see beginners making mistakes - apart from the mindfulness aspect, forms are about creating a particular feeling, of respect and intention, and if that is communicated, then being right or wrong can be secondary.
There is a nice feeling about Baker Roshi's presence here, ahead of the the 50th anniversary weekend. At work meeting yesterday, Christina acknowledged that without him, none of us would be standing in this beautiful building together. When we came out of senior staff meeting later, I saw him sitting behind the big bell in the Buddha Hall, trying out the sound. He then came to visit the ino's office as part of a little tour of the building with Reb.
The consensus seems to be that the last time Baker Roshi visited was for the celebrations for Suzuki Roshi's one-hundredth birthday in 2004. I was struggling to recall the occasion, but remember the day: there was a big crowd in the dining room, with most if not all of Suzuki Roshi's ordained disciples in attendance, and many statements. I was in charge of the sound, which meant I was in the Buddha Hall trying to ride the mic levels of people I couldn't see, in the sole company of Lou, who didn't care to be in with the crowd. I think I will be a little closer to the action on Saturday, and Monday, though somehow I am still in charge of the sound.

Seasonally Adjusted

Just as the han to end zazen began yesterday, the sun burst through the Laguna Street windows, and from the ino's seat I saw the people on the far tan illuminated with a wonderful yellow glow; with the sun so low, there seemed to be an intimate inquiry between the person and their equally tall shadow right before them, sitting together.
This morning I had dokusan with Steve, so I left the building at kinhin. It was wonderful to wait on the corner for a moment, in the fresh clear dawn air. I also got to meet at last the little dog who regularly contributes to our morning sitting these days. It was nice to put a face to the voice.
As I have noted before, and as people who live in San Francisco would undoubtedly agree, when the skies clear after the weeks of predominant fog, there is a palpable feeling of something lifted. For me as well, there is the added pleasure of seeing where the sun is hitting the building in the morning, and what is illuminated. As I went down to breakfast, I saw a similar shimmering effect on the silhouette of Suzuki Roshi that I have previously photographed:

Into Great Silence

The first time I went back to London after I moved to San Francisco, I was staying with my best friend and his girlfriend, and hearing about their stressful, over-filled lives, and how that impacted their time together. With all the zeal of a new convert, I suggested to them, unlikely as they were to develop a meditation practice, that they try just sharing an evening in silence: cooking together, which they loved to do, eating, cleaning up, reading, just hanging out, without conversation, and no TV or radio as a constant backdrop, which was the norm there. They both looked at me like I was crazy.
One of the most rewarding aspects of the last three weeks, for me, was this extended shared silence. Many people here at City Center have commented on it, how widely it was upheld and how refreshing and relaxing it was to be immersed like that for that length of time. Green Gulch during sesshin was the same, with of course the added backdrop of the mostly silent grounds. Yesterday I was noticing how jarring it felt to be walking around City Center and hearing loud conversations everywhere.
There is a couple who have recently been showing up regularly to afternoon zazen, and I was happy to see them when they appeared. I know nothing about them; I have a story in my head that they might be Russian, just from appearances, but they used to come pretty often when I was first ino, and then I didn't see them for a long time. I have never talked to them, so I don't know why they stopped coming, but I was just glad that they were sitting again and that we have the opportunity to spend time in silence together. I have similar stories and feelings about other people who come in the afternoons, or on Saturdays, with whom I have also never exchanged more than smiles. As I have said before, when you live at Tassajara, and most of your time is spent together in silence, social bonds are formed in different ways, as energy and intention become your cues to other people.
Simon, Tim and I were having one of our regular chats about Young Urban Zen over lunch yesterday, and Tim said he wanted to try having the group end and leave in silence some time. The energy shifts during the meetings are always fun to observe - the crescendo of chat as people arrive (we had more than fifty again last night), the rapid settling into quiet as we sit together, and then the hum of conversations as we discuss the text we are studying. At the end, a more intimate but also louder arena of socialising - I had some lovely conversations myself last night during the 'after party'. The three of us could definitely also see the value in having a short sit at the end of the meeting to bring everyone back to that shared silent intimacy that we create during the period of zazen, and having everybody carry that out into the night by themselves.
I had to do more talking myself than usual yesterday, as I sat down with Valorie and started the transition process. The first stop was the computer, and we worked through the ino's storehouse of folders, the electronic version of which I am happy to say is more organised than the actual cupboards in the office. But it was also clear, in response to several questions, that there is also a lot of stuff that just resides in my head, which we will have to find ways to unearth and pass on.

Body And Mind Of Themselves

In a life as closely scheduled as ours, any deviation from the normal routine shakes us up in its own way. Having a holiday on Wednesday made it feel like we had three consecutive weekends, and the days of interim afterwards were a chance to breathe and unwind a little, to catch up on sleep as well. It is also always nice to come back to the routine, to align with the usual patterns, and at five o'clock this morning I was happy to cross my legs on my cushion and sit upright. I could immediately feel the unfolding of some residual tensions, and then I spent a lot of the two periods present again with the emotions from the difficult situations that had caused the tensions. I had been trying to tune them out over the weekend, but they were still lingering in my body, and while they were not resolved or dissipated by sitting, I did get to feel a little more spacious around them.
Even with the extra rest, there were noticably a number of people who did not make it to the morning schedule, and I wonder what is going on for them. Everyone has their own internal dramas and their own way of dealing with them. I am glad that zazen is one of the tools we have at our disposal.

Revealing Ourselves

Yesterday morning was understandably quiet in the zendo, as the residents who sat all weekend were not obliged to come to the morning schedule. Young Urban Zen, by way of a contrast, was packed to the gunwhales again last night, with I think fifty people in attendance.
We have been mixing it up a bit recently. Particularly, Simon, Tim and myself have been wanting to get more women's voices to the fore - when we were planning the group early last year, most of the organising group were women, but once we got underway, none of them ended up in regular attendance for different reasons. Last week Maggie facilitated our one-year restrospective, during which Stephanie had made a call for a different format; I invited her on the spot to lead the group this week, and she presented a series of exercises designed for us all to open up about ourselves. Towards the end of the evening, I could feel how warm and bubbly the energy was, and even with a larger than usual number of first-timers, everyone at the end, when we were asked in turn to express our appreciation, said that they felt included, and there was much gratitude for this safe and welcoming space that we offer. It was noticeable afterwards that many people were not in a hurry to leave; I was also happy to see that the people who had been at Green Gulch over the weekend were all greeting each other warmly, as I remember from last time.
I managed to take time off between morning zazen and afternoon zazen, and when I got back to business I heard that Katherine Thanas, a student of Suzuki Roshi's, and the long-time teacher at Santa Cruz Zen Center, was very ill. With Blanche's help we got a well-being service together for her. I asked Blanche if she wanted to be doshi - I was filling in for Lucy - but she said she wanted to be kokyo, and led us in chanting the Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo. We all wish Katherine well.

In The Zendo

This week, with the warm weather we have been having, I have been musing that it would be nice to do a photo-montage of zendo styles a la Bill Cunningham of the New York Times. Black robes are, naturally, still very much to the fore, if not as de rigueur as they are at Tassajara, but we have been seeing a profusion of lighter colours, pastel shades, thinner fabric and shorter trousers.
Since we don't get to take pictures of the zendo with people in it, here is a shot from after breakfast yesterday.

Comings And Goings

It was not just another Monday morning in the zendo today. Since it was the first morning of the practice period, we had a bigger crowd than we have had recently, and that subtle sense of people finding their places and beginning to settle. Also, as the sun began to shine through the windows on the east side, we had a departing student ceremony for Steven.
Steven and I were ordained together, along with Trevor, just over three years ago; his devotion to practice was always clear, but he has been having a tough and painful time of late. Christina spoke very movingly after the jundo, and it is hard to encapsulate what she said, mainly because you could hear how heartfelt it was, but it was to do with how sometimes you have to let go, when your dream, something you have put great effort into over many years, is not manifesting in the way you thought or wanted it to, and that by letting go, there is the possibility that it will appear in a different form. It was a reminder that none of his efforts have been in vain, and that the effect of them still resonates.

Choppers

Naturally it is getting light earlier these days. On Saturday we didn't even turn the zendo lights on, and the warm sunlight came flooding in right at the beginning of the period. This morning it was still dark at five, but we were treated to the chirpy dawn chorus even before the han started. This was soon replaced, however, by the sound of a helicopter hovering nearby.
This is not an unusual sound in the city, but we tend to get it in the afternoon, when there is heavy rush hour traffic or a demonstration blocking the streets. I found I had a different response to the noise of the helicopter to that which I have to the waves of traffic passing down Oak Street. I used to have the same response to a garbage truck that would park half a block away during morning zazen and sit for some time with its engine idling, at a low frequency that seemed to reverberate around the whole zendo. It can be summed up in the phrase, "Why don't you go away?" Of course this put me in mind of the famous clip of Suzuki Roshi, and I sighed internally at my resistance and inability to just allow the sound to be there with me.
I am not sure what the helicopter was there for this morning; I certainly am not going to be tuning into a television station to find out. I was thinking during zazen of the weekend activity across the city, where a large section of elevated roadway leading to the Golden Gate Bridge was being demolished. It was a big story here for several days; everything seemed to go smoothly, and when I rode past the area on Sunday morning, the scale of activity was most impressive. According to the news stories, people living nearby had no problems with the noise of the demolition crews, but there were complaints about the media helicopters overhead. Thinking of this, I get to feel justified in my annoyance this morning, and to formulate ideas about why it isn't necessary for the helicopters to be there, or how there should be a time limit on them hovering in one place. But now, listening to noisy rush hour traffic passing by the building several hours later, I can easily say to myself that the helicopters have a job to do, that it is something you can't even try to control. At the time, the best I could do was savour the moment when I noticed it had finally flown away, and the silence seemed especially spacious and enjoyable.

I went to Doyle Drive a couple of weeks ago to photograph the transformation - these elevated sections are no longer there

Harmonies Of Buddha Fields

One of the first doanryo jobs I had was as a cleaning chiden, the person who takes care of the altars so they are pristine for the morning schedule, and one of the first things I learned in that job was that altars are supposed to be symmetrical. Each altar should have a clear centre line, which typically comes down through the nose of the Buddha, Manjushri or other statue, through the incensor and kobako, and is continued through the altar furniture, on which, in most cases here,  there is detailing that makes the centre line very clear. Other elements on the altar, particularly the candle and flowers, are arranged to reflect this central symmetry, creating a harmonious whole.
Close readers of the blog will have noticed that I can be a stickler for things being in the right place, and this is more to do with my character than the job of ino; when I was tenzo I spent a lot of time tidying up trays, cutlery, and other things, keen to leave the impression that the kitchen was being taken care of. At the end of the dishwashing counter, where people would frequently leave miscellaneous items that had been through the sanitiser, I placed a sign that said,"Everything has its place, and it is not here" - not that it had much effect, though.
As a doshi, in which role you are always at the energetic centre of a room, I notice how I feel if parts of the altar are not correctly lined up, and during the service I usually endeavour to put them back in alignment. Recently I had noticed that the zendo altar did not feel right, and when I took the time to measure it, I found that the whole thing had moved a couple of inches, and was not properly centered in the space between the dividers; when I put it back, I felt much better again.
Somewhere I read, and I thought it was in a book by Eido Shimano, but I have not been able to find it again, a wonderful passage, where the teacher talks of the practice of monks taking off their shoes outside the zendo or any other place. The encouragement was to be mindful of even such commonplace actions, and the passage ended by saying, when your shoes are neatly lined up, the entire universe is functioning correctly.
As part of my musings on this, I was thinking of various translations of dukkha that we sometimes hear, beyond the basic 'suffering', and this quote from Wikipedia abundantly catches what I was wanting to articulate:

Sargeant (2009: p. 303) explains the historical roots of duḥkha and its antonym sukha:

It is perhaps amusing to note the etymology of the words sukha (pleasure, comfort, bliss) and duḥkha (misery, unhappiness, pain). The ancient Aryans who brought the Sanskrit language to India were a nomadic, horse- and cattle-breeding people who travelled in horse- or ox-drawn vehicles. Su and dus are prefixes indicating good or bad. The word kha, in later Sanskrit meaning "sky," "ether," or "space," was originally the word for "hole," particularly an axle hole of one of the Aryan's vehicles. Thus sukha … meant, originally, "having a good axle hole," while duhkha meant "having a poor axle hole," leading to discomfort.^[27]

According to grammatical tradition, dukkha is derived from dus-kha "uneasy", but according to Monier-Williams more likely a Prakritized form of dus-stha "unsteady, disquieted".^[28] The Sanskrit prefix 'su' is used as an emphasis suggesting wholesome, high, evolved, desirable, strong and such.

Son Et Lumiere

The weather has been delightfully warm again, and with the days getting longer, it has been a nice time to sit in the zendo in the evening. Yesterday the light gently subsided over the course of the period, leaving a golden glow by the time we got up for service, it seemed. We have been getting good numbers in to sit as well, and some people I have been very happy to see: a few members of YUZ; Brian, who was at Tassajara when I was a few years ago, just in town for a few days; a well-known local writer who more usually comes to sit on Saturdays; a producer from one of our favourite city websites, just getting back into some sitting, as well as our more familiar regulars.
In the mornings too, there is a spring-like feeling - the nesting birds are chirping again. I was just looking for this post, and had I written this yesterday when I was thinking about it, it would serendipitously have been exactly a year later... There is a new sound I am noticing most mornings now, a yappy dog being walked just around six o'clock, who seems to take exception to many things it encounters. We are probably all doing the same in zazen, but not so vocally.

Circumambulation

In the normal run of things, Parinirvana would be the highlight of the week, if not the month. This time around, it mostly meant that yesterday was another day working morning noon and night, after seven straight days of doing that last week - there is a lot to set up, and after dinner we rehearsed the five-person food offering with the new Abbess, jisha and shuso, before I went to put extra cushions in the zendo and set out the candles.
And then the spaciousness I was finding while sitting the first period rather evaporated with a series of things going awry, starting with the doan deciding to ring the bell for kinhin ten minutes late. We were always going to be pushed for time today, and then once we had also factored in people forgetting their bessu before service, and other delays, we were half an hour late to breakfast.
Nevertheless, the reading did move me as always; the candle-lit zendo was beautiful - being late meant that daylight was starting to change the feel of the room by the time we started the Robe Chant; the circumambulation was quite smooth for once - even if the incense offering clocked in a little slower than last week, necessitating a third round of the Dai Hi Shin Dharani - and afterwards I was able to bow in the kaisando with Hoitsu, Christina, Blanche and Vicki.
I am determined to take time off between lunch and afternoon zazen today, though between staff meeting this morning, and zazen and lecture tonight, it is going to be another long day.

Meeting People

Back in the day, as a new practice period student going to afternoon zazen, I remember being struck by how Blanche, who was the abbess in those days, would go round to the end of the gaitan after service, and wait to bow to everyone who came out of the zendo. It was something we read of Suzuki Roshi doing in the early days of Sokoji; it had a profound effect on many of those who came to sit with him then, who felt completely seen and met. I felt the same way at seeing Blanche's kind warm eyes and smile waiting for me to take my place and bow in front of her - such freely offered, abundant love is rarely met.
With the start of the practice period, she has been sitting again most every evening, and heading out to the gaitan to meet people, and these days I am often the first one out to bow with her, which is very sweet.
I was already thinking about writing a few lines about this, when I received this as part of an email conversation yesterday (hoping the person will forgive me for reproducing their words unattributed):
"It has been an overwhelming time at the office lately, which tends to leave me physically drained, emotionally volatile, and generally less available for my non-work life. When I realized Blanche was waiting for me at the end of the gaitan, I about burst into tears from the kindness and patience".
There is nothing more to our practice than this.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

There has been a marked drop-off in attendance in the zendo since sesshin finished. Partly this is due to natural shrinkage, as some those who brought so much life to the building this past practice period have left; in other cases, residents seem to think it is okay to dial back their efforts. I have made a couple of announcements reminding people that interim, with its optional schedule, is not until next week, but I can't say that this had any effect at all. I don't think it is sickness now either -  everyone has had it and is pretty much over it, except for a few lingering coughs. This week the Abbot is also away, and even at Tassajara during practice period some people seemed to think it was more acceptable to sleep in if the Abbot wasn't around to notice your absence. This is only a temporary phenomenon, though, and will be more than offset by the January effect, when we get more people coming from the outside, having resolved to become more diligent with their spiritual practices, just as gyms get more custom, perhaps from the same people looking for improvements across the board.
Happily, we haven't noticed a similar decline in attendance for Young Urban Zen. I realise I haven't written much about it recently, but since October we have been getting twenty-five to thirty people consistently each week. Naturally there is some turnover - someone will come to try it out once, or come for a month and then not be so motivated to come - but at the same time a strong core group is being created, who have an increasing stake in YUZ and how it continues to develop. Plans are in place for an overnight retreat at Green Gulch in February; at a recent brainstorming session after a meeting, there was great interest in forming study groups to go deeper than we can in the Monday evening format; and we have been finding other ways to be together outside the usual meetings.
Last Friday a half-dozen or so of us went to check out the Dharma Punx local Urban Dharma group , led by Vinny and Gene on this occasion, just to see how other people are doing this. I got to sit guided meditation in a chair, something I have not done in a long time, and I enjoyed some of the dialogue that followed, which ended with a ribald Eddie Murphy joke that I was going to have Maggie or Simon repeat for us last night, though in the end the moment for it never came...
On Sunday, and last night after the meeting, some of us were also toasting Kelly's departure for Austin. She has been one of our most regular members, and since starting to come to YUZ, has also done one-day sittings and been a guest student in the building for a week - Matt is currently following in those footsteps right now as well. I mentioned in the last post how I might head off to Tassajara in September if there isn't anything compelling to keep me here, and YUZ has been one of the things that would most tempt me, as it has been a richly rewarding experience to be able to help with the group; at the same time I have no wish to be inextricably identified with it, and am happy to know that it would continue just fine if I never showed up again. Sometimes, though, as we are noticing with the enthusiasm for study which has not quite resolved itself into a time, place and subject, we need to encourage people to feel empowered to take control and make a decision. Probably it will all sort itself out after the holidays.

Dark Matter

The rain did come on Thursday to usher us into the end of Daylight Savings Time (what we somewhat optimistically call British Summer Time back home). On Friday morning it was almost competely dark until breakfast, and Saturday evening brought the full sodden storminess of winter. In a moment of idleness recently, I read again what I wrote at this time last year - and indeed on Friday I sat in the zendo with my hands wrapped in my sleeves, listening to the click and clank of the heating pipes. Happily the rain moved on; this morning the zendo was growing lighter during second period, and the sun shone into the dining room for breakfast. By the time I came down for zazen this afternoon however, I had already closed up the kaisando and turned on the hallway lights; the zendo was gloomy and I encouraged the doan to turn up the lights, as the gentle morning penumbra doesn't seem appropriate for the afternoon, though the gathering dark outside always makes for more intimate sitting.
It occurred to me that we do ceremonies to mark the solstices and equinoxes, but the days that the clocks go forward or back are much more notable in their impact on our lives, especially ones as closely time-tabled as those we live here.

The sky on Friday morning

Sunday morning

Back In The Day

Following last week's dip in the archives, this morning I happened to catch the tail end of a visit by two women who used to live here before it became the Zen Center - back when they were eighteen, they said, and they were now in their seventies. They seemed delighted to be able to see the place again, talked of how the director's office and the art lounge had both been lounges where they could receive gentlemen, and how the Buddha Hall was a large living room with a very small TV in it.
I couldn't find any pictures of that in the Zen Center archives, but here is another picture I had thought of using, and two others I hadn't really seen before.

The zendo as lounge

The stage on the west side of the zendo

A ceremony in the zendo - probably a jukai - with the stage behind Suzuki Roshi

As a little twist in the story, neither woman was actually Jewish - apparently in the latter days of the residence, since it was harder to find women who wanted to live there, the doors were opened more widely. As one of them remarked, it was a choice between this center and the Catholic one on Haight Street, only there you had to be back inside by 10pm, whereas here, if you gave them 75c, you could get a key to the front door...

Back On Seat

I had been looking forward to that part of the vacation where you pick up your regular responsibilities and routine afterwards, and see how it feels. Unfortunately when I got back into town yesterday, I received some unwanted and upsetting news, which completely took the wind out of my sails. So now I am looking at how to pick up my responsibilities when I feel like I have no motivation or energy and am trying to function on about three hours' sleep. Everyone else, meanwhile, naturally wants to welcome me back and ask how the trip went, and I am not feeling particularly able to meet them.
It was comforting to be back in the zendo this morning; sitting felt good, even if my mind was far from settled, and I felt very emotional doing the first prostrations of service. And I was pleasantly surprised that there were only forty-four emails in my inbox and four messages on the phone; that felt pretty manageable.
At times like these it is helpful to see how other people are doing, and I enjoyed Gretchen's latest blog entry as I deal with my own mental itchiness.