It Is Possible To Illustrate This With More Analogies

At a time when riding up Mt Tam seems straightforward, the thing to do is to go to Mt Diablo, which I did today. Once again, I got above the clouds and the greyness of the city, into warm, dry California mountain air. There are two ways up the mountain, and I usually alternate - up one, down the other. The North Road is a very steady climb, which means that you can settle into a sustainable rhythm for the seventy-plus minutes it takes to get up the road, and adjust when the gradient is a little steeper. The South Road, my choice today, starts a little harder at the bottom, but then levels off for a couple of miles, before rearing upward again just before it meets the North Road, four miles below the summit, so you have to find your rhythm a second time. These days I don't worry about anything much until I get to that junction; a mile beyond that is a steeper section, which then eases off at a sweeping bend at Juniper Camp, a spot like the corner of Mt Tam where you are suddenly overlooking the ocean, where I almost always feel a great burst of energy. Then the trick is to see how much is left in the tank for the final couple of miles, which are, or at least feel, a little steeper than average, before the final effort of the last ramp up to the summit, which may only take a minute, but is always hard. As the miles tick by, I focus my effort on relaxing my spine between the shoulder blades, which releases me from a feeling of wrestling the bike, and allows the legs to do the work more fluidly.
I had plenty of energy when I was a kid, and was usually either riding my bike or playing football (the kind the rest of the world plays, with the feet), so it was hardly a surprise that I gravitated towards endurance sports as I grew older, first cross-country running, and then biking. There was something I found purifying about sustaining an effort until the brain subsides and there is just the motion and the intention to keep going, and something gratifying about learning the body's limits, how long you could continue, staying just below the threshold of exhaustion, and at the end, about feeling depleted and fulfilled at the same time. It was a great counter-balance to my tendancy to be cerebral, and has probably spared me much stress and anxiety in my life. Meditation, of course, has the same effect, but at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, and I have never stopped being a little surprised that I took to it.
On the way down, since the descent is not so technically demanding, I was nodding at those coming up, noting those who had a clean style and energy to burn, and those for whom it was a greater effort - everyone who can get up Diablo on a bike deserves huge credit. I felt the temperature changes as I dropped through the layers of air, a thousand feet at a time, and then I was down with the traffic again.
I don't think that this is what Shohaku was refering to when he talked about san chu nin (山 中 人), the person in the mountains, during the Genzo-e, but I was thinking of that phrase on Mount Diablo, as well as remembering other details of my time at Green Gulch. There was Shohaku's practice, which I remember well from other times, of starting every class, after he had nodded to the ino to lead us into the chant, by raising up his cup of water, taking a sip, and then bowing and saying "Good morning, everyone", or "Good afternoon, everyone". There was the almost complete silence of the zendo, apart from what sounded like plastic sheeting flapping on the roof from time to time; there were no streams of traffic, no passing cell-phone conversations, and not even the steady creek and bird calls of Tassajara. There was the sunshine, which we arrived in, and which made progressively fewer appearances as the days wore on, but which allowed me to sit out by the tea house after dinner the first few evenings, and feel warm and quiet. There was the intimacy of the priests in Cloud Hall; perhaps twenty priests were participating, and at most junctures in the schedule, before and after soji, before zazen and before meals, there would be a close array of us kneeling on the cushions and either putting on or taking off okesas together in silence. And there was of course the fact that, thanks to Carolyn's understanding and sympathy in the matter, I had absolutely no responsibilities during the sesshin, and could just sit there through it all.
Finally, I feel like I short-changed the garden in my last selection of photos, so here are a few more.

Jizo garden

Overlooking the garden

Starts in the greenhouse

I am reliably informed these are montbretia, or coppertips - they filled the area in spectacular fashion anyway

Sweetpea down at the farm

The Wheelwright Center

These are apparently cosmos, but the colour is cyclamen in my book

Definitely a poppy

Transitions

As the days went by in the retreat, I appreciated the silence more and more; eventually the notes and requests slowed down some, and the after-breakfast schedule of sitting, study, and extended open sitting felt very settling to me. There was something about being able to flow right from one activity to the next that reminded me of being at Tassajara, and was deeply rewarding.
I was still struggling with my own suffering, and this meant that patience, kindness and compassion were in short supply. For anyone from the retreat who was on the receiving end of a sharp glare or a snappy response, I can only belatedly apologise.
Having long been a fan of the format, I had some time ago requested to be allowed to take off for the Genzo-e sesshin at Green Gulch; Teah was kind enough to encourage me to go, even though it would inevitably have an impact on the retreat, and Rosalie and Christina worked to make it happen. Djinn was brave enough to volunteer to sit in the ino's seat, which I will have to make up to her somehow. This meant I had to prepare everything for the City Center sesshin, happening simultaneously, a few days ahead of time before I left - of course there were people who I didn't have in any of my lists who I happened to hear from other sources were intending to come, so I had to do most of the logistics twice. The end of the week before last was filled with sorting out: all the Saturday sitting paperwork, Saturday lecture announcements for two weeks, a sound system guide, the sesshin admonitions, sesshin announcements, sesshin services, sesshin paperwork - schedules, jobs list, participant list, seating charts (some marked for meals), doanryo schedule - as well as full instructions for the other things that were going to be happening during the week: a leaving ceremony, memorial ceremonies, the full moon ceremony, the Suzuki Roshi Memorial ceremony, and not least, a day-by-day checklist of things that would need to be taken care of.
Which was more stressful than to be doing the sesshin myself. Nevertheless, on Saturday morning, for the first time since I came back from Tassajara four years ago, I stayed in my room and let the morning schedule go on without me, and at the end of the morning, rode over to Green Gulch. Once I got over the bridge, I could feel myself relaxing.
Now, I have only really sat at Green Gulch on Sunday mornings occasionally, and been to a few ceremonies, so I was bringing some beginner's mind with me. Carolyn, my counterpart there, was surprised to see me come for the zendo forms introduction, but I had no idea what the form for kinhin was like, or for leaving, and I had never seen a service or done oryoki there. Of course, it was mostly familiar and easily deduceable, but there were lots of little things just different enough to keep me on my toes.
Having spent two weeks getting close to silence, this was another smooth transition from one activity to another. There was just a little bit more sitting through the day, about as much as a regular winter day at Tassajara, which was no problem for my legs. And after two weeks' of study time and Teah's classes, I was already attuned to reading and thinking about Dogen. Now, Teah's style and Shohaku's could hardly be more different: in the city we screened a PBS show from The Fabric of the Universe that illustrated the illusory nature of time, to go with Uji, which we were studying there; Shohaku is more likely to pull out an old Chinese waka to demonstrate how two kanji made their way into a phrase by Dogen, and not by accident, and also give deep contextual meanings to the kanji themselves. Both were completely enlivening - when I was able to focus.
After I had got used to the novelty of sitting facing the wall again, I found myself very tired on the second and third days, and swamped with difficult thoughts again; it was less 'dropping off body and mind' than body and mind falling apart, and on the third day I felt barely functional. In the zendo I made myself focus on three things: the weight of my body on the cushion, the air filling my upper body, and my eyes resting on the richly coloured wood of the tan. A couple of days later, on the last full day, I was back in focus again; I told myself I was not defined by the thoughts, and they receded accordingly; I was fully absorbing the teaching, and feeling energised by it.
My work assignment was the farm; a group of us spent about forty minutes each afternoon variously weeding, hoeing and digging up potatoes, which was very refreshing to do; on Thursday, as I started to feel better, several of us noticed an owl in the trees above the field where we met for work.  Some crows were trying to shoo it away, but it remained unperturbed; horses and bicycles were also ignored. I was happy to keep looking up at it as we worked, and it kept its gaze on us, and the surroundings, right through the work period. That may have been the best moment of the sesshin, for being so unexpected.
This morning once again, back in the city, I heard the morning schedule going on around me, and kept a low profile so as not to be in the way of the sesshin's final hours, which gives me a longer weekend than usual. On Monday the plan is to start training Valorie as my replacement, which will go on through the month before that transition takes place, and that seems a little closer now.

Greens in the fields

Starts in the greenhouse

Lavender with many bees

Watchful owl

Jizo in the zendo

Fresh Air

The last time I spent the night at Green Gulch was almost a year ago, and it had a very different feel. This weekend I had to keep reminding myself that I was not responsible for a couple of handfuls of twelve-year old boys, that the people on the Young Urban Zen retreat could be trusted not to get into trouble and to look after themselves. I caught myself doing surreptitious head-counts to see if all were present or if someone had slipped away, but then I wasn't completely sure how many people had actually made it: I think it was twenty-three, of whom seven came on bikes in the end, though we had mechanical issues on the way out which made us a little late for the opening - we made up for it on the way back by getting to City Center faster than the cars, who were stuck in long lines trying to get over the bridge...
So it was an entirely relaxing proposition this time around. The weather was kind to us, and threatened rain did not materialise until some time last night; we had blue skies and fresh winds blowing.
Right before we left, Blanche said it was great that we were using the guest house, as that was what it had been built for, large groups getting together to take over the whole building. It was a lovely space to be in, especially with the fire going in the evening and early morning. We deliberately kept things unstructured, and one person who had several ideas for group activities found us more inclined to lounge around the fire than go running around outside. I think everyone ended up outdoors on Saturday afternoon, with various lengths of hikes being undertaken; we all met back in the small dining room for dinner, and then congregated for the evening with smores, game-playing for those that wanted, accompanied by guitars, chat and just sitting around in company. I was the first to go to bed, and drifted off to sleep to the sound of singing downstairs.
It was lovely to get up before it got light and set the fire going again, and listen as everyone else stirred. I was most impressed that three people had got up for the early sitting; we all joined the later sit and the talk, headed to the beach again, had lunch and did a thorough clean of the guest house before a closing circle. I think most people were very into the idea of doing it again some time, and it may be that we try it for the whole weekend next time.

The city suddenly showed up looking very close

Above Muir Beach

Muir Beach at sunset

Making smores

Story-telling

Morning group shot

Blossom time at Green Gulch

The garden shed

Gate, Gate

Today it feels like we mark not just the first day of late afternoon light, but also the end of a period of mourning here that began with Jerome's death on a Sunday three months ago. There has undoubtedly been a feeling of heaviness in the community, and I think a number of people have been thinking that Lou's funeral would be the transition point away from this.
It has been a long day - see below - but also a very satisfying one. I returned to the city in time to help with the set-up, and then a long and full rehearsal, at the end of which I still had time to eat some toast, reprint the ceremonies and get dressed. There were a lot of details to take care of but there was also a huge number of people helping to take care of things. Once I had done my part in marking out the reserved places in the Buddha Hall - there were always going to be more people coming than we could fit in there, and I was glad I was not one of the ushers who had to steer people to the dining room to watch the livestream - I felt that I could just let everything unfold, which it then proceeded to do, pretty much without mishap. There were many distinguished guests, from Zen Center and beyond, a number of whom spoke very movingly about how Lou had affected their lives. At the risk of being selective, I particularly loved Norman Fischer's pithy encapsulation of Lou's lectures, which provoked much laughter of deep recognition.
I didn't manage to take many pictures, but this was a view into the Buddha  Hall just before the ceremony as I was running around with last minute things:

Last night with the boys' group at Green Gulch went smoothly enough. We had better weather than we had had doing the same thing in December, so we were able to go to the beach in the evening, in the light of the half moon, watching for newts and listening to frogs. Not only that but there was a fire still burning in one of the pits, though the boys were all keen to light their own, and we had ample smores (for those on the other side of the Atlantic and elsewhere, I understand this is typical American fare, marshmallows toasted on a stick, then eaten with a piece of chocoate and a Graham cracker - I had it for the first time at the very same spot on Muir Beach a couple of years ago as part of a City Center's residents' retreat). We didn't sleep in the zendo this time, as we thought the wake-up bell would end up being too early, with the clock change, and although in the yurt we didn't have the zendo's calming effect on the boys, we did have a nice fire going in the stove, and I got a reasonable amount of sleep, which was one aspect of this whole weekend I was worried about. The boys were not very excited to be woken at six (new time), and taken on a hike to Hope Cottage for a sunrise that did not materialise, but I was pleasantly surprised at how engaged they were when we started to discuss the precepts with them after breakfast, especially hearing how tired they claimed to be as we started. Maybe one of them - actually I hope all of them - will end up being as esteemed and loved by their community as Lou was by his.

Mount Tam and Highway 1 on a grey Sunday morning, from above Green Gulch

Levels of Stress

I think I may have already quoted the lines from the Hsin Hsin Ming, 'Seek rest and no rest comes instead', and I know I have already written about how stress comes not necessarily from having a big event to organise - such as Jerome's funeral on Saturday - but feeling that there are other things that are taking up my time and preventing me from fully devoting myself to preparing for this more important thing (though I'm damned if I can find that entry now). Such was how I had been thinking of today, when I was scheduled to go over to Green Gulch for an Environmental Committee meeting - and getting the minutes from the last meeting redrafted into a legible form had been another thing on my plate the other day that didn't even make that list ...oh, that was yesterday.
Of course it is a failure of perspective to see some things as being 'in the way of doing something else more worthwhile', and especially so since we are studying the Genjo Koan this practice period. Each event and each state of mind is your life at this moment; while feeling stressed, like feeling sick, is not something one looks forward to, when it happens, it is best to just be able to accept that this is what your life looks like at this moment. I think of my first practice period at Tassajara, where at the end of the first month I realised that I was cold, tired and hungry most of the time (and probably at least one of those three all of the time), and I also realised that the point was to practise with being cold, tired and hungry as those were the conditions of living at Tassajara during a practice period, and I had, after all, signed up for it.
This was all brought home to me today in a way that even I could absorb when it became clear that going to Green Gulch, rather than taking me away from preparing for the funeral, actually afforded me the opportunity to sit down with Reb and discuss some of the details, which was worth hours of me poring over the ceremonial forms by myself.
Not only that, the experience of riding over to Green Gulch was itself a great treasure, since it was another beautiful day, and the feeling of being warmed by the sun, and of working my legs and getting my heart moving for the first time since I have been sick, was enormously beneficial. As was being at the meeting, and getting to say hello to a few people over there. And it was while I was riding down the hill, paying close attention this time, that I decided that the best way to spend my evening would not be to try and squeeze in a DVD, or to try and find some entertaining sustenance online, but rather to sit down at a time when I would not be disturbed, and put together the program for the funeral; having decided that, it became a restful activity (the vagaries of Word notwithstanding), rather than a chore, and I feel more relaxed than if I had tried to 'switch off'. And I still have time to check out Trevor's latest post before I go to bed.

The Road to Green Gulch

There are many versions of this story that I have heard over the years - Linda Ruth tells a funny one about oryoki - but here is mine from today:
It was a beautiful morning, and I was riding to Green Gulch for the Coming of Age program; I would have ordinarily wished to be riding further, but was perfectly happy where I was, absorbing and enjoying the energy around me, getting over the bridge with the early sun, feeling like I could feel the benefits of yesterday's sitting in my state of mind and body; I wasn't rushing, I felt relaxed and ready for whatever was going to happen with the group of boys later on.
On the descent of Highway One above Green Gulch, I could see the sea, it was warm and quiet, and having just ridden the same route on Thursday I was thinking, 'I know this road really well these days', and I was enjoying taking the tight corners at speed. It was right after a thought of 'yep, going very nicely' that I spaced out for a moment, and then realised I was not going to make the next corner. There was a distinct thought 'I'm going to hit the rocks on the side of the road', but I did not hit the rocks. I think I came off the pavement and then jumped back onto it; there was a sharp noise, a distinct thought 'I'm going to go over', and I had a vision of sliding along the road on one side with the bike on top of me, but I did not fall over. My back wheel, the cause of the noise, had buckled and jammed right against the frame, so I very quickly came sliding and wobbling to a halt in the middle of the road; there was no traffic around, thankfully.
When I saw what had happened to the wheel, I shouldered the bike and walked the last few hundred yards to the driveway entrance - I could not have asked for this to happen at a more auspicious place. I didn't feel any real shock after the incident, and was greatly heartened by the fact that a couple of passing motorists stopped to check on my well-being and if I needed any assistance.
Having walked down and got changed, I met Sarah and Michaela, getting ready for the girl's group, who asked, 'did you bike over?.... are you okay? - you don't look okay...'
So I told the story, and actually I felt relieved that many things had turned out just the way they had and not any worse, and I was fully prepared to own the fact that my own smugness had been almost entirely responsible for the whole thing; the only down-sides I could see were that I wouldn't get to ride back to the city afterwards, which I had greatly looking forward to, and that I would have to buy some new wheels, which I had already know I would have to do anyway; I just don't know if I can afford them until we get paid again.

Across the Golden Gate

Well, it took me a while to figure out how to do this, but the sharper-eyed among you will notice a link on the right to my sister Ino Connie Cummings' brand new blog: http://ggfino.blogspot.com/
I think it might be a while yet before we announce the arrival of the Tassajara Ino blog, but you never know. In the mean time you should just go and pay Kathy a visit down there.

A Life of Vow

Yesterday a whole posse from City Center went over to Green Gulch to attend the shukke tokudo. It was a very big event, and I am glad my sister ino Connie Cummings was doing the organising and not me.
I could classify it as a four-abbot event, which makes it pretty special: Senior Dharma Teacher (which denotes a former abbot) Tenshin Reb Anderson was ordaining five of his students, while Senior Dharma Teacher Eijun Linda Cutts and Abbot Myogen Steve Stucky were the other preceptors, and Abbot Rysuhin Paul Haller was in attendance as well. Apart from these luminaries, there were more Zen Center priests than I have ever seen in one place before, as well as the Green Gulch community, the City Center visitors and the ordinands' families. Abbot Steve said that many people in the Tassajara practice period had also wished to come, but he had had to say no to them all, and had just driven up by himself that morning.
I have practised with all the new priests over the years: Deirdre Carrigan lived at City Center when I first arrived ten years ago, and we were at Tassajara together in 2003, while Bryan Clark, Steph Wenderski, Thiemo Blank and Yuki Kobayama were all at Tassajara between 2006 - 2008 when I returned there. It was wonderful to see them all putting on their new robes and glowing with their newly shaved heads. These kinds of events give you a real sense of the depth of the Zen Center community, and how we all support each other to live the Bodhisattva life, or the life of vow, as Abbot Steve referred to it.
I happened to get a chance to talk with Tenshin Roshi after the ceremony, and told him of my new position. He said he had also been the ino at City Center. What did you do, I asked him. I went to every period of zazen, he said, and then added, I didn't leave the building very much...but when I did, I discovered that it was very beautiful out there.
This has been somewhat similar to my experience this past month, which made it especially nice to be at Green Gulch on such a beautiful spring day.
Here are some pictures of the day: