Privilege

I have said before that this blog is intentionally parochial, but I might go out on a limb here. It is a safe thing for me to do really, given the context and my 'location within the matrix of domination', as a good dharma friend just expressed it.
There have been a number of trainings in diversity and multi-cultural awareness in the years I have been at Zen Center. One exercise I remember particularly well had all the participants lined up on one side of the room. Each time a category was announced, members of the dominant, privileged group stepped forward, members of the less privileged group stepped back. I ended up a long way forward: white, male, middle class, heterosexual, English as a first language. The only backward step I needed to take was as a first-generation immigrant, though, with the cushioning of the above categories, this barely qualifies me as oppressed.
Growing up in blithely privileged circumstances, I nonetheless found myself increasingly uncomfortable at school and college with the sense of entitlement many of my peers seem to have been imbued with; I resisted being identified with the class I was born into, and tried to find my own way, starting to learn about different forms of power and oppression -  which is part of the reason I found moving to America appealing, as I was able to side-step the constricting categories of the old country.
That said, I always felt lucky to have lived and worked in London where I did; the World Service is pretty much the most culturally diverse work-place you could find. For ten years, I worked, ate, drank and partied with colleagues who came from forty or more countries - the only place I have ever been that topped that was the United Nations canteen in New York. The area I lived in was also racially mixed, lower-middle class in those days, now rather gentrified by all accounts. When I moved to San Francisco, I was quite shocked at what I perceived to be the cultural and racial divides that surrounded me - not to mention dismayed at the conversations about capital punishment, gun laws and abortion rights. I felt I had stepped back a couple of generations.
Zen Center, along with other sanghas in America, has been historically very white; there has been, and continues to be, an effort to be more welcoming, more inclusive, more diverse. We are not there yet. I take a glimmer of hope from the fact that the members of Young Urban Zen come a little closer to representing the general demographics of the city, but there is still a lot of work for everybody to do.
So why I am writing about this? A couple of my sangha friends, who work more deeply on these issues, forwarded me this piece, written after the anniversary events. I had responses to different points the author brings up, which I recognised were largely driven by defensiveness. I sat with that for a while, and then articulated them to those friends. One of them then sent me a link to this, which, along with Mushim's talk last week, has helped triangulate the conversation in a way that turned my defensiveness more towards gratitude that people are able to bring forward their stories. I was glad to be reminded that I need to listen. It is a question of mindfulness, remembering not to fall into complacency, and, here just as in other areas of life and practice, to be able to hold deeply the simultaneous understanding of difference and sameness within the whole working of reality.

Getting Together

My schedule has felt quite full this week, but since the events on it have included two meals out with Zen Center people, catching up with the latest English football in my down-time, and getting some bodywork from a friend before afternoon zazen today, I can scarcely feel hard done by. Yesterday was a long day, though, with the second annual Zen Center get-together at Fort Mason. I was going to call this post 57 varieties, as that was the number of people I counted in the circle during the first part of the day; as was pointed out, we are all, in our own unique ways of expressing the dharma, Zen Center, and it was acknowledged that the fact the organisation exists at all, fifty years after incorporation, is a bit of a miracle.
As I said last year, a lot of the power of the day is simply in the coming together: we get to hang out with old friends and hug lots of people, as well as hearing about each other's experiences, as we explore the themes that are pertinent to us as an organisation. I did start to sag before the end, though I was lifted again when I got outside to see a most spectacular sunset over the Presidio; I had, alas, just entrusted my camera and other belongings to someone else to take back to City Center while I rode my bike unencumbered, so it was just to be appreciated in the moment.
I had wanted to bring up at some stage during the day the fact that last year's meeting had been the place where the idea for Young Urban Zen had first been mooted: Anne-Marie actually beat me to it, but I did get a chance to outline the success and progress of the group for those at Green Gulch and Tassajara who haven't heard so much about it. It was timely then, that this week we have launched from the main group a couple of study groups for those who want to go a little deeper. Peter is shepherding a group on Tuesday evenings, and Tim and I got to hang out with a few of the YUZ core this morning after breakfast. It was a great opportunity, as the group often is, to expand a little on some of the things I have learned over the years, and hopefully, we are setting the stage for the strong continuation of Zen Center for the next couple of generations.

For those who don't know Fort Mason, it comes with impressive views

Looking the other way to the city and the other bridge

It was a beautiful day - these clouds contributed to the later sunset

Looking across to Angel Island

Honoured Followers Of Zen

Another thing I have been meaning to mention about this past sesshin was the diversity of the participants: we had people flying in especially for the week from Northern Ireland, Germany and Slovenia, and, off the top of my head, also had the following nationalities represented: Australia, India, China, Japan, Mongolia, Iran (we have three Persian residents right now), Mexico, Colombia, England, Hungary, Switzerland, and France, with a Canadian running the kitchen. There were a few Americans too.

A little bleak and wintry - by Bay Area standards - at the moment

Saying Goodbye

We had a leaving ceremony for Renee today, who is heading up the coast this weekend, first to be with her family, and then to study with Dzogchen Ponlop Rinpoche in Seattle. It was a moving ceremony for me; laughter and tears not far apart. Jordan, her teacher, spoke of her qualities, and asked her a question, and then, turning the usual form on its head, asked her if she wanted to ask Paul something, which she did. Paul got his question in afterwards though, as well as some beautiful words of appreciation.
The fluid nature of the residential sangha here is something I have written about before; there is a constant process of intimacy and parting, continually placing our wish for connection against the reality of impermanence. I have been happy and proud to have Renee as a friend, especially through the hard times of this year; I remember when she used to come as a volunteer dishwasher in the kitchen when I was tenzo, as well as helping Diana in the bookstore that she ended up running. As Jordan said, we would be sadder, except that we know she is doing the right thing for her life right now.
We also know that people never completely disappear from our lives, especially in the Mahasangha, and of course, these days, you can always keep in touch with people on their blogs...

Renee in her element, dancing at the Pride Parade this summer

The more contemplative side, on her favourite rock in the courtyard

In A Holiday Mood

I will dust off my usual disclaimer about not being culturally attached to American holidays, but I also really appreciate the mood here the past twenty-four hours. There have been a number of people sick in the last couple of weeks, and people are tired, so the zendo has been far from full, but yesterday was one of those days where everyone was working harmoniously together to prepare for a celebration. Senior staff had volunteered to put together the Thanksgiving Eve dinner - we wanted it yesterday so that people could have two complete days off, which I am most grateful for - but in the kitchen there was a lot of activity from all quarters. My role was to make mashed potatoes, which I do have a cultural attachment to, and I managed to do that between setting up for the Thanksgiving service and the service itself.
We had just about the right number of people for both service and dinner - a full house without being overcrowded - and the food turned out delicious all round. We followed this up with a skit night, to which a lot of people contributed entertainment, including multi-media happenings and Genine's Half-Moon Ceremony, as well as the usual inspired silliness, poetry, music, singing and dancing. I took the opportunity to try out my new camera, though playing with the settings meant some of the pictures didn't turn out so well.
I can't say that I slept in much this morning, but it was nice to get up and just drink coffee and read the papers, and then help Myoki, who was making gingerbread muffins for everyone for breakfast. Ordinarily I would look on having two days off as a chance to get in two bike rides, but since it is throughly damp out there, and I am still wanting to let my wrist heal (riding on Sunday in even wetter conditions was not a great deal of fun), I am going to have a completely unscheduled day, something that happens very rarely, and seems very long and spacious.

Genine was one of the MCs for skit night

P, who observed "It's a potato", watching Renee demonstrating her iSpud

Tova said that skit night would not be complete without some Bach

Roger and Richard in 'R&R's 24-hour jiko service'

The finale: Richard's 'mosh pit', dancing to 'Billie Jean'

Feedback

Like all good Californians, we at Zen Center periodically undertake trainings for different skills; over the years I have done sessions on diversity, multi-culturalism, conflict resolution, being an ally, difficult conversations and so on, and I have learned much about myself and my fellow sangha members through doing so. Recently the senior staff at City Center has invited Zen Center alumnus Marc Lesser for some trainings, and on Monday we looked at team building.
We assessed ourselves as a mostly cohesive and functional team, but there is always room for improvement, and a chunk of the afternoon was given over to each of us offering suggestions, one on one, to the other members of the group, as to how they could be more effective in the team. As Marc anticipated, most of the answers each of us collected revolved around similar themes, and the main theme I received was to express myself emotionally more.
This and the other suggestions were all interesting and to the point, and evoked a certain recognition in me. I think of how Blanche often said during practice period at Tassajara, "Everyone can see how you are, you might as well see it for yourself". This expressiveness is something I have been chewing over in different ways recently. Part of my effort to meet people where they are is to put aside anything that I might be feeling as best I can at that moment, so as to have fewer obstacles in the way. Regardless of how I might feel about the person, or the emotional state I might be bringing into the encounter, I want to be present for them. The more I work at this, and at sitting with emotions, the less power they tend to have. I tend to think though, that even if I do not articulate to others how I am feeling, I am usually fairly transparent in showing my joys and pains. And it was especially interesting to leave the training and be confronted with a situation that brought forward some negative emotions, which I have been having a hard time shaking since then.
Simon, my fellow countryman, retorted, when I told him of the group's suggestions, "Didn't you just tell them that you are English?"

Out And About

We certainly got lucky with the weather for the residents' retreat: Mark, the manager of the Point Reyes Hostel, where ten of us stayed the night, said there hadn't been a weekend like this since June. It probably would have been fun even in the fog, but the clear skies helped; I enjoyed the warm weather, and it was hard not to take good photos with the stunning light.
On Saturday, we all arrived in time to drive down to Limantour Beach and walk along as the sun was setting, returning to find that Gretchen had got dinner mostly prepared. We ate well, looked at the stars, hung out in the lounge of the building we had to ourselves, played games and slept soundly. In the morning a group of us hiked down to the ocean, came back to make brunch, joined by two more car-loads of residents, then we split into two parties - half going off to Abbot's Lagoon and for a swim in Tomales Bay, the rest of us staying local for a different hike to the beach.
I think all of us enjoyed getting out of the city to such beautiful surroundings and some peace and quiet. Like all Zen Center social events, we know each other well enough that interactions are very relaxed. While we were supposedly off-duty, there was something wonderfully joyous about doing the meal chant together before dinner and brunch, as we reflected on the effort that had gone in to making this all happen and looked forward to feasting together.
I'll let the photos tell more of the story.

Tanya and Heather on Limantour Beach

Richard and Martha walking back

Renee in the sunset

Taking over the hostel dining room

The meal chant at brunch

Once more onto the beach, dear friends

Words And Phrases

Amongst our visitors from Tassajara this week is the tanto, and my predecessor as ino, Greg. Not content to swan around on vacation, he gave the talk last night, based around Dogen's fascicle on 'All-inclusive Study', 'Henzan', and the story of the exchange between Huineng and Nanyue. This is a great one to chew on, as Nanyue did himself for eight years. In the new translation of the Shobogenzo, Nanyue says, after he has come to his realisation, 'Speaking about it won't hit the mark'.
This morning in service we chanted the Song of the Jewel Mirror Samadhi for the first time in a couple of months, our Thursdays having been given over to the memorial services for David. When we got to the line, 'Although it is not fabricated, it is not without speech', I actually stopped chanting and tried to think how that line and Nanyue's line meet each other. Give me eight years and I will perhaps come up with an answer.
Over breakfast we were discussing this. Renee liked that Greg highlighted the line from the Full Moon Ceremony, 'To expound the dharma with this body is foremost', which as regular readers will know, I am partial to myself, and which, as I don't think I have mentioned, Lou had on the back of his rakusu. "How else are you going to do it?" I chipped in, "To expound the dharma with this iPad?" Gretchen said she had some friends who might advocate for Second Life at this juncture, and we started riffing about the qualities of virtual zazen, since I understand there is a zendo in Second Life - it is undoubtedly less painful, and perhaps less of a time commitment. Nonetheless, I think we mostly tend to think around here that it's better to focus on this first life. "I feel a blog post coming on", I said. "Is that like feeling the flu coming on?" Gretchen wondered. "It's more like feeling a poem coming on, or a painting", replied Greg. Thanks Greg. I promise to put your talks online soon.

Work, Rest and Play

I have been noticing a paradox during my working hours, which I was tempted to call the horns of a dilemma, but that would be overstating it: some days it seems like I never get away from sitting at my desk looking at the computer, fielding e-mails and occasionally phone calls; I look at the list of projects that I keep on hand, and it feels like I never get anything done. Conversely, when I block off time, as I did on Friday, to empty out the cupboard in the ino's office which holds the City Center talks archive on cassette (so many illustrious names from the past, and how will we ever get to listen to them again?), to realign the shelves so I can store the gear we use for our audio-visual enterprises these days in the lockable cabinet that previously contained the old sound system, while it felt like a most useful accomplishment, also left me feeling like I had been neglecting my 'real' work.
I also need to remind myself constantly that part of my 'work' is just attending the activities I am supposed to be at: the morning and afternoon schedule, the dharma talks. But then, even though I offered to do the sound for the entertaining poetry reading on Friday night, I didn't consider that work, since I hadn't promised to do it beforehand, and hadn't expected to until I decided it would be the best way to spend the evening, which it probably was.
There was a less pleasant consequence to the event, though. Having removed the microphone and receiver from the Buddha Hall so that both Matthew Dickman and Matthew Zapruder could read with clip-on mics - and mostly the new sound system was excellent - and having replaced them after the event, at ten o'clock on Saturday morning, coming up from zazen, I felt I should just check that the mic was working in the Buddha Hall again, and the fact that it didn't made me sweat. Even more so when the people who were in the dining room said they could hear it. If I had had five quiet minutes to think it through I would have figured out the source of the problem, but I didn't - I needed to go and pee, which is not a simple operation when you are in an okesa (and nor is poking around in the sound system cabinet), and everyone was waiting for the talk to begin. The speaker, Eugene Bush from Santa Cruz, had already requested that we not record the talk - which is a shame as it was wonderful - so I just had to ask him if he was willing to speak unamplified, which, graciously he was. As a long-time school teacher, he had no problem being heard throughout the room, and while he was talking I worked out exactly why there was no sound reaching the speakers of the Buddha Hall (I had inadvertantly pulled out a cable along with the receiver).
We are now heading into interim week, which I would perhaps have benefited from more if it had followed directly after the intensive, but which is welcome nonetheless. I am hoping to make it to Tassajara for a few days, although I am unsure how I am actually going to be getting there, and I am expected to return with some photographs.
We marked the beginning of this relaxed week last night with a party at one of the apartments up the street, to celebrate Tanya going back to school. It was a classic Zen Center party, where everyone knows each other, and people were either talking or dancing. Of the two activities I decided I would rather be dancing - along with Renee who was leading the fray, and Blanche who was gamely joining in when the music was more to her taste. Nadia and I were sharing DJ duties, which turned out to be a lot of fun.
I may have been optimistic about the weather the other day; I rode this morning through more drenching fog than clear skies, though it was nice enough here by the time I got back that I could spend a happy hour in the hammock on the roof reading a book, something that doesn't happen nearly enough.

Sangha As The Perfect Life

I had a brief but illuminating chat with Myoki the other day. Apart from working hard in her new role as Myogen's assistant, which meant she had a lot to do for the AZTA, she told me she had just been asked to take over as the third floor women's bathroom co-ordinator. She was not happy that residents had already come up to her to let her know exactly which jobs they were not willing to do...
I thought it was just the guys. I am used to cleaning up after one or two of my fellow bathroom users who seem to me not to pay attention to this kind of thing, and we all notice when the toilets or the floor do not get cleaned regularly. This is the kind of place where my compassion meets my you-must-try-harder streak, though I try to restrict my comments to occasional encouragement of our bathroom co-ordinator to lean on the less industrious among us.
This kind of matter probably strikes a chord with anyone who shares a household, and though it might seem like a trifling matter in the overall operation of Zen Center, really I feel that you can't make those kind of distinctions. We are practising paying attention to every detail and making our best effort on each moment, as Blanche is fond of quoting Suzuki Roshi as saying. I was tempted during sesshin to put up a sign in one of the toilet stalls along the lines of 'leaving the toilet roll holder empty because you cannot be bothered to change the roll or pick it up off the floor fails to be bodhisattva activity'.
I am also reminded of the phrase used by Shundo Aoyama, which I have quoted before: 'When the abbot or any of the teachers is away from a temple for a week or so, the novices think nothing of it. But if there were no toilet paper, they would quickly feel its absence'. The devil, as they say, is in the details.

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.

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.

Give Over

When I was sixteen, a couple of school friends of mine declared, after, I imagine, much thought, that the meaning of life was that everything was a container. I thought then, and still do, for why else would it have stuck in my mind for thirty years, that the idea has some merit, while perhaps not being the definitive answer.
Here at Zen Center we are fond of using the word in its more abstract forms, especially the container of practice and the container of community, and both of these have been particularly to the fore this past week. As this second week of the intensive has got underway, I can feel myself settling into the schedule, as I hoped I would be able to, and giving over to what comes next.
This morning during service I looked at the candle on the altar, and saw that Gretchen had taken care of it, in the way that she described recently, and words from Dogen's Tenzo Kyokun came to mind: "Day and night things come to mind, and the mind attends to them". I have always liked this sentence, for its utter simplicity, and when I was tenzo, and we chanted from the Tenzo Kyokun every day, I would get to reflect on it frequently. This morning I realised that I hadn't thought about that line for a long time, and that my feeling of late is that while I have been attending to things as best I can, the doing has been accompanied by the sense that these things are a chore and are taking something out of me. With the nice number of hours we are getting to sit during the intensive, feeling my body relax and release tensions, it feels much more like I can just attend to things, be nourished by the attending, and keep moving forward to the next thing. This is how I understand the idea of being held by the container of practice.

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

A Circle Of Gifts

I expect I have mentioned before that one of my favourite expressions in all the many things we chant is the line from the Full Moon Ceremony, 'to expound the dharma with this body is foremost'. I try to keep this as a guiding principle, not least because it de-emphasises the spoken or written word in favour of manifestation and action. I am also currently chewing on the third pure precept - I have taken to reciting these for myself at the end of morning service, in addition to the refuges at the beginning - 'I vow to live and be lived for the benefit of all beings'. There is something about the conjunction of active and passive verbs which is intriguing me.
Last night, after the Young Urban Zen meeting, one of my recent benefactors offered me another card, which offered kind words of support and encouragement. This person wrote of my 'greater intention of inviting everyone in, to share with others what has brought you great joy'. Noticing my response to what was written - happiness, relief, feeling energised - I wondered how much of it was just from having my ego being patted. My ego has certainly felt in need of such succour recently - and it has received it plentifully from many people. But I don't think that is the whole story here.  I have a mental picture of my ego struggling to find satisfaction in external things of late, such as spending time online trying to find something entertaining that would somehow be satisfying, knowing all the while that these are just dead ends. But the things in the past month which have been the most rewarding and fulfilling - the Young Urban Zen group, performing the wedding - have been occasions of just being present with people, where my ego isn't the driving force. It's me, but it's not really me, like I am turned inside out, just trying to recycle the joy I have got from practice for others. It can feel a little strange to think about it, and awkward to express, but since I keep connecting to that intention, and if others tell me it is of benefit, then I have the confidence and energy to keep doing it, and trust that the circle of gifts will continue.
A cursory search through old posts throws up this one on a similar topic, and coming from a similar place of suffering. Plus ça change...

City Hall lights up the fog last night

Ice Cream Social

One of the great things about Zen Center is that you don't have to go far for either sustenance or entertainment. What does an off-duty ino do on a Saturday night? Well, typically for a San Francisco summer evening it is too cold for ice cream, and I am not feeling especially social, but Caren was hosting a farewell ice cream social in the dining room  - she didn't get to sit tangaryo, so she didn't get a leaving ceremony in the zendo, but this was a viable alternative. It was the place to be: there were about twenty-five of us, from Blanche to one of this week's guest students, getting sugared up; Renee and Daigan were dancing expertly to Louis Prima, Kathryn singing along to seventies radio classics. Everyone knows everyone else, so it was very relaxed. When I left, Genine was setting up for a movie showing later, but I opt for an early start on the bike tomorrow.

Awesome Power Of Active Buddhas

As I told somebody after dinner yesterday, with the state of mind I have been in the past week, helping to steer the inaugural meeting of the Young Urban Zen group was pretty much the last thing I felt like doing. But, as I know so well, the important thing is to show up, and by showing up, something happens. It may not be what you expect to happen, or what you want to happen, but it will be something.
Those of us who have been putting our heads together to get this group off the ground over the past five months have had no idea what the response would be when we finally opened the doors. I have to say, we surpassed our expectations. There were twenty-five people in the Conference Center last night - we had too many people to fit in the cosy back room, where we thought we would be; we filled out the large front room and just about ran out of cushions.
We did a bit of zazen instruction, and sat for another fifteen minutes after that. Everyone introduced themselves and said a few words about why they were here, and then we broke into smaller groups for people to express what they wanted the group to offer. Happily, most of the suggestions that came up were in line with the brainstorming we had previously done - some study of texts to help people in their lives, maybe some basic instructions about zen, some yoga, some social action, some socialising.
What felt best for me was the way that people expressed how this group really met a need they felt in their lives to be practising together with people of the same age. There were people who were new to the city, people who were new to practice, people who had been practising alone, people who had been coming to Zen Center but were keen to be a part of this new format. Hopefully that enthusiasm will be sustained in the weeks to come.
If you thought about coming but didn't make it last night, the next meeting is next Monday, 13th June at 7:30. The dharma is offered.

Young Urban Zen

I am going to put in a shameless plug for a new Zen Center program, that I did mention briefly before, but which is scheduled to start this Monday evening. We have details on the website, of course, and Facebook, including the somewhat haphazard scheduling, which is due to other groups already having booked the Conference Center space on some Monday evenings, which the steering group had determined to be the most useful day. So, if you are in the target demographic, and in easy reach of Zen Center on Monday, you will be most welcome to come and help inaugurate this group. And, yes, I am older than the specified age range, but I am sneaking in as an ordained person to help ensure that everyone is at least sitting upright.

This picture is called 'One of these is the moon'