At Great Vow, the teachings, "dharma," range from the cosmic to the practical, "time and space" to "nonviolent communication." They also range from the general to the personal. The teachers give regular dharma talks, and in weekly classes we study some texts and discuss general Buddhist topics like the Four Noble Truths and the Five Precepts. Also, I've had many intimate conversations with the abbots, other ordained, and my other fellow residents about insights and issues in my personal practice. Right now, I'm less inclined to talk about those personal subjects, but I might in the future. Some of this personal stuff isn't as relevant to a general audience and they're also tender parts of my practice where insight hasn't come to full fruition yet. Rather than talk about that, I'll talk more about the general teachings.
On the Five Precepts
Currently, I'm preparing to become an official lay Buddhist in the Zen tradition. (Technically, I've already done this in the Tibetan tradition). In most Zen circles, you become a Buddhist by (1) committing yourself to working with the teachers and community and (2) promising to follow a series of precepts for ethical conduct. Currently, I've been taking classes on the Five Precepts. When I first encountered the precepts years ago, I scoffed; they seemed so simple and self-explanatory. The more I examine them, though, I see many areas where I don't follow them and how that's affected myself and others' negatively. In Buddhism, one takes the precepts as a personal challenge; I'm committing to following them myself, not worrying about judging how well others follow them.
In Buddhism, the problem with breaking precepts is not that we have broken some ultimate commandment for which we'll be punished by the universe, but that we have disrespected our self or others and have fogged our view of the essential perfection, or Buddhahood, that we all possess. The basic lesson of karma is that all of our intentional actions leave a mark on us, which for better or worse, can obscure or clarify our vision of the way things are. Basically, somehow we know when we made a mistake, we just need to take responsibility for acting differently in the future.
For me, the structure of the monastery creates a contained space where I can see the karma that I carry around with me. I also have more time to look at it . . . no more excuses for putting off self-examination.
The Zen priest who teaches the precepts class continues to emphasize that the precepts are not rules of right and wrong, but are areas of continual investigation. Within our own body and mind are the signs that we did things that were unskillful or unwholesome. In meditation, we're often trying to concentrate on one thing; if the weight from some unhealthy past action keeps coming to mind, then we know there's something worth atonement and change. The silence of meditation shows us what we need to resolve in our ethical life; a healthy ethical life clears the
way for concentrated meditation.
On the Four Noble Truths
The Four Noble Truths were the Buddha's first major teaching after his enlightenment. Like the precepts, they are also infinitely subtle, and my understanding of them deepens the more I practice. This time around, I'm beginning to understand more deeply the second noble truth.
In the first noble truth, the Buddha famously proclaims that the core problem with life is that we suffer. The second noble truth makes the unconventional claim that our suffering originates from our own mind, from "grasping" or "clinging" . . . "craving for sensual pleasures, craving for existence, craving for extermination." (Dhammacakkappavattana Sutta) I think most people understand how craving for sensual pleasures can drive us crazy. But "craving for existence" and "extermination" is much more subtle and fundamental.
In my daily practice, I've begun to notice more and more the suffering that I create by "craving for existence." On a more obvious level, I suffer when I constantly try to hold on to a particular social identity (I am . . . powerful, attractive, intelligent, etc.). These qualities will all change, and I suffer on those days when I am weak, ugly, and stupid because they contradict an imaginary identity that I've been holding on to. When I suffer from clinging to an identity, I usually find out after the fact. For example, I see that I'm in a bad mood, trace it back to feeling stupid, and realize that I'm clinging to some idea that I'm a smart person. Even if I could be considered smart, walking around thinking I'm smart is just an extra burden on my mind and creates problems. Perhaps, I didn't know something, but only felt like I should because of some inaccurate self-identity.
On a more subtle level, I've been watching this tendency to grasp for existence when it begins, not after I start suffering a lot, but only once I've begun to suffer a little. To refer to my metaphor in the last post, I catch myself taking the digital photos, rather than waiting all the way until my picture doesn't match the scene, and I'm noticeably upset. This might sound strange, but we all possess this awareness that's much greater than our small tourist mindset. We just have to put down the camera . . . over and over and over again. Try it out. Watch the flow of your own mind and notice when you start clinging to some idea that takes you out of the present moment.
Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha
Buddhists often talk about the three jewels, or refuges, that help to support a healthy practice: Buddha (the original teacher, our current teachers, and our own inner-teacher), dharma (the teachings), and sangha (a supportive community).
I've been extremely grateful for the sangha at Great Vow thus far. With the exception of my time in India and last summer, I've done most of my Buddhist practice without much of a community. I've had the support of some professors and friends, and meditation groups here and there, but I've never lived this intensively in a community of practice. On one level, it's amazing to be surrounded by teachers and senior students who can teach me more about the practice and to have time scheduled out to do everything from meditation to chanting.
On a more basic human level, I'm re-learning how profound community can be. I've had my fair share of supportive communities at home and in college. But, now, I'm experiencing an even more intense degree of that support. My needs for affection, attention, support, love, play, teaching, conversation, and silent commune are regularly met because they're dispersed amongst a group of about 30 people that I'm always around. In the past, I've struggled with the anxiety of finding a partner, "going out," or finding new friends in order to meet those needs. I can't say that my social life is 100% satisfying, but that longing has died down quite a bit.
Of course, living in close quarters brings up other issues in terms of tolerating others' quirks and my own aversions to them. The upside is that I'm learning more about skillful communication and managing boundaries, rather than simply avoiding people . . . which I still tend to do. :)
Hope you enjoyed the post! Keep in touch and please appreciate your life as it is. Many blessings.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The first month at Great Vow
And, now we begin again . . . I've been at the monastery for over a month now, but still I can only find this present moment! The past is like a vague mirage, smoke fogging up the present. Nevertheless, I will try to convey the past in some useful way in order to share what my life is like here.
On talking and thinking
Every week or so I will get onto the computer, but I have not yet felt compelled to write a thing. Taking life as one continual meditation, I am frequently impressed with the lacking, dissatisfying nature of language to convey the mysterious, ever-changing, incomprehensible way life moves. One day a resident priest and I were talking about experiences in meditation, and he said, "you know, I usually don't do this. The more I try to talk about particular moments of realization, the more they lose their shine." When we try to take some personal credit for realizing what's universal, we become thieves, mistaking what belongs to everyone as our own, mistaking what's always changing for some fixed idea or concept. There's no problem with thinking about life. We're just so stuck in mistaking our after-the-fact thoughts about life for life itself. Here's a little metaphor/parable . . .
In the middle of the day, you look out over the Grand Canyon. Someone comes up to you and says, "hey, check it out." They show you the screen of their digital camera, and lo and behold, they've taken a picture of the Grand Canyon at dawn. "Pretty sweet, huh? My Grand Canyon has all these pretty colors." Someone else comes up to you. They're sad because their picture of the Grand Canyon is dark and out-of-focus, "It's so terrible. My Grand Canyon is so depressing."
We suffer from this weird human problem where when we look for the Grand Canyon, we look down at our camera screen. When we search for life, we habitually look to our fixed ideas about it. Or, we start comparing our pictures with other people's pictures, "oh mine's so bright, and yours is so dark, I must have gotten something right" or vice versa. In Zen practice, we try to just watch the Grand Canyon. Sometimes it's dark. Sometimes it's bright. Sometimes it's boring. Sometimes, we may even take pictures. We just try to avoid mistaking those little fixed pictures for the actual, constantly changing reality that presents itself in this moment. Even some canyon at its ugliest is more grand than a picture of it's best moment.
Life at the monastery
In my past posts, I talked about the schedule and the general mentality behind a monastic lifestyle. This time, I'll try to give a little update for those who are interested in my personal life. Later this week, I'll try to reflect on some of the teachings that I've been studying.
The daily schedule of meditation, working, eating, and sleeping guides all things here. But, during the summer, Great Vow is especially busy with events. The monastery is also active with many visitors and summer residents coming and going. We oscillate rather quickly from long periods of silent meditation to hosting visitors and being very social. Great Vow is secluded, but it's not closed off. Although there are times dedicated to retreat, silence, and contemplation, the monastery hosts many visitors from many different walks of life.
Over the past month we've had:
- a 4th of July celebration where we participated in the local parade
- a weekend workshop on mindful eating, based on Chozen Bays Roshi's popular book Mindful Eating.
- a daylong workshop on nonviolent communication
- a weeklong sesshin, a silent meditation retreat. This retreat's theme was "Time and Space," and was led by Co-Abbot Hogen Bays. Sesshin involves at least 8 hours of formal meditation per day. You can see the typical schedule here. I'm not mentioning this to brag, but to simply convey the most serious and disciplined aspect of Great Vow's practice. We practice sesshin every month; it's the period of deepest effort we give toward realization.
- a 24-hour inter-faith chant for peace, with 24 different chants led by dozens of different faith groups from around the area.
Personal activities
I spend most of my time absorbed in the scheduled activities at Great Vow, and I've found that that's usually enough to keep me happy and challenged. I derive a lot of satisfaction from the meditation practice, teachings, delicious food, and good company.
My regular work practice has been assisting on a renovation project where we're building new walls to create extra rooms. I've been learning about framing, insulation, drywalling, etc., areas where I have no experience. Sometimes, I get to work in the garden, which I much prefer, but I've accepted this wall assignment as my life; it's the area where I get to integrate meditation practice with practical work. It's been a constant area of growth for me, trying to be mindful, one screw at a time.
The monastery has a "music zendo" chalk-full of instruments that we can play during certain breaks. My major pastime has been playing the harmonium and the many marimbas. There are many talented musicians here, two of which I play with quite frequently. A good friend, John, is teaching me more about raga and other forms of Indian music. It's become very clear that sound and music is one of the easiest ways for me to enter into meditation.
In the next post . . .
I've started writing my next post, which talks more about the Buddhist teachings I'm studying. Hopefully, I will post it by the end of this week. Next week, we are up for another weeklong sesshin.
Until then, many blessings. May your life be free from any trace of suffering.
On talking and thinking
Every week or so I will get onto the computer, but I have not yet felt compelled to write a thing. Taking life as one continual meditation, I am frequently impressed with the lacking, dissatisfying nature of language to convey the mysterious, ever-changing, incomprehensible way life moves. One day a resident priest and I were talking about experiences in meditation, and he said, "you know, I usually don't do this. The more I try to talk about particular moments of realization, the more they lose their shine." When we try to take some personal credit for realizing what's universal, we become thieves, mistaking what belongs to everyone as our own, mistaking what's always changing for some fixed idea or concept. There's no problem with thinking about life. We're just so stuck in mistaking our after-the-fact thoughts about life for life itself. Here's a little metaphor/parable . . .
In the middle of the day, you look out over the Grand Canyon. Someone comes up to you and says, "hey, check it out." They show you the screen of their digital camera, and lo and behold, they've taken a picture of the Grand Canyon at dawn. "Pretty sweet, huh? My Grand Canyon has all these pretty colors." Someone else comes up to you. They're sad because their picture of the Grand Canyon is dark and out-of-focus, "It's so terrible. My Grand Canyon is so depressing."
We suffer from this weird human problem where when we look for the Grand Canyon, we look down at our camera screen. When we search for life, we habitually look to our fixed ideas about it. Or, we start comparing our pictures with other people's pictures, "oh mine's so bright, and yours is so dark, I must have gotten something right" or vice versa. In Zen practice, we try to just watch the Grand Canyon. Sometimes it's dark. Sometimes it's bright. Sometimes it's boring. Sometimes, we may even take pictures. We just try to avoid mistaking those little fixed pictures for the actual, constantly changing reality that presents itself in this moment. Even some canyon at its ugliest is more grand than a picture of it's best moment.
Life at the monastery
In my past posts, I talked about the schedule and the general mentality behind a monastic lifestyle. This time, I'll try to give a little update for those who are interested in my personal life. Later this week, I'll try to reflect on some of the teachings that I've been studying.
The daily schedule of meditation, working, eating, and sleeping guides all things here. But, during the summer, Great Vow is especially busy with events. The monastery is also active with many visitors and summer residents coming and going. We oscillate rather quickly from long periods of silent meditation to hosting visitors and being very social. Great Vow is secluded, but it's not closed off. Although there are times dedicated to retreat, silence, and contemplation, the monastery hosts many visitors from many different walks of life.
Over the past month we've had:
- a 4th of July celebration where we participated in the local parade
- a weekend workshop on mindful eating, based on Chozen Bays Roshi's popular book Mindful Eating.
- a daylong workshop on nonviolent communication
- a weeklong sesshin, a silent meditation retreat. This retreat's theme was "Time and Space," and was led by Co-Abbot Hogen Bays. Sesshin involves at least 8 hours of formal meditation per day. You can see the typical schedule here. I'm not mentioning this to brag, but to simply convey the most serious and disciplined aspect of Great Vow's practice. We practice sesshin every month; it's the period of deepest effort we give toward realization.
- a 24-hour inter-faith chant for peace, with 24 different chants led by dozens of different faith groups from around the area.
Personal activities
I spend most of my time absorbed in the scheduled activities at Great Vow, and I've found that that's usually enough to keep me happy and challenged. I derive a lot of satisfaction from the meditation practice, teachings, delicious food, and good company.
My regular work practice has been assisting on a renovation project where we're building new walls to create extra rooms. I've been learning about framing, insulation, drywalling, etc., areas where I have no experience. Sometimes, I get to work in the garden, which I much prefer, but I've accepted this wall assignment as my life; it's the area where I get to integrate meditation practice with practical work. It's been a constant area of growth for me, trying to be mindful, one screw at a time.
The monastery has a "music zendo" chalk-full of instruments that we can play during certain breaks. My major pastime has been playing the harmonium and the many marimbas. There are many talented musicians here, two of which I play with quite frequently. A good friend, John, is teaching me more about raga and other forms of Indian music. It's become very clear that sound and music is one of the easiest ways for me to enter into meditation.
In the next post . . .
I've started writing my next post, which talks more about the Buddhist teachings I'm studying. Hopefully, I will post it by the end of this week. Next week, we are up for another weeklong sesshin.
Until then, many blessings. May your life be free from any trace of suffering.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Contact Info
For those of you wishing to get in touch with me, here is the monastery's information:
Great Vow Zen Monastery
P.O. Box 368
Clatskanie, OR 97016
(503) 728-0654 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting (503) 728-0654 end_of_the_skype_highlighting
greatvow.org
If you want to talk on the phone, call and leave a message on my cell phone. I will get back to you within a week or two. If it's an emergency, you can call the monastery's number and they will give any messages to me asap.
Mail for me can be sent to their P.O. Box. You can also email me at greenteasteam@gmail.com
Take care.
Great Vow Zen Monastery
P.O. Box 368
Clatskanie, OR 97016
(503) 728-0654 begin_of_the_skype_highlighting (503) 728-0654 end_of_the_skype_highlighting
greatvow.org
If you want to talk on the phone, call and leave a message on my cell phone. I will get back to you within a week or two. If it's an emergency, you can call the monastery's number and they will give any messages to me asap.
Mail for me can be sent to their P.O. Box. You can also email me at greenteasteam@gmail.com
Take care.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Leaving home, once again
I am reviving my old blog for a new journey. I graduated from college last month, and, tomorrow, I return to a Zen Monastery in rural Oregon for at least two months, hopefully longer. This time around, I would like to change the tone of my blog. In the past, blogging has helped me deliver updates to friends and family or keep notes for academic projects. Now, my intention is to take on spiritual practice as a full time occupation. I have posted about Great Vow monastery in the past and you can click here for a general intro or here for a more in-depth explanation of day-to-day activities. Because my life will not differ very much from day to day, I will be focusing more on the spiritual challenges and insights that I'm given. For this entry, I want to refocus the blog and address some concerns I think others might have about renunciation.
Why "Beginning Mind"?
I chose the blog title "Beginning Mind" as a variation of Shunryu Suzuki Roshi's book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. By using the word "beginning," I mean that the mind is a process, not an object that is possessed by any owner. Consciousness happens whether we like it or not. We, in fact, are not in control of much that happens to our minds. We are, however, always capable of renewing our awareness to whatever is happening in the present moment. We can always begin again.
A continually beginning mind is the ideal of Zen practice. We aspire to receive every moment of life with new clarity, presence, and acceptance. In seated meditation, this involves continual renewal of awareness of the present moment from micro-second to micro-second. We re-awaken to whatever new stuff has come along, then do it again NOW, again NOW, NOW, NOW, ad infinitum. It is like upgrading an old monitor to one that processes more frames per second. Rather than getting caught in a cluttered, choppy view, our perception clarifies and flows. Life unfolds and we loose the hang-ups that were slowing us down. With more practice, commitment to a beginning mind can unfold deep, inexpressible insights into the way life has always been working. After such insights, we inevitably return to the world of frustrating thoughts and feelings, but with greater ease and spaciousness. It is tempting to cling to those old insights when they are not so obvious anymore . . . at that point, we must renew our beginning mind again to allow for newer insights.
Why a monastery?
Now that I have introduced the purpose of my blog, I hope I can talk a little bit about why I am going to a monastery. Loved ones, strangers, all kinds of people have asked me, "why a monastery?" After listening to a NPR segment on Jainism and Buddhism, my mom, a great teacher of mine and one of my top supporters, asks, "does renouncing the world mean you have to give up on the people who love you?" At a bar in Greencastle, IN, I stand 6 inches away from a wall of 5 TVs, blasting the same AXE deodorant commercial. A tipsy Slovenian artist, and new found friend, wraps his arm around me and yells into my ear, "you don't need to go to a monastery! The whole world should be your monastery! You can't just run away from it all." Most of my friends think its cool, most of my family supports me although they admit they don't understand. My closest mentors and friends have challenged me because they care. They don't want me to get stuck in institutionalized religion, stray too far from an academic/career path, undershoot my talents, or abandon all of my loving friends and family. I expect that some simply don't speak doubts or criticisms, but I have no way of confirming that.
Maybe I can address some lingering concerns . . . some questions are easier to answer than others.
On renouncing material possessions . . .
For thousands of years, it has been the tradition in, not only Buddhism, Hinduism and other Indian-based religions, but also Western traditions like Christianity and Islam, for spiritual aspirants to leave home, and, if possible, to study under wiser teachers and to perhaps even teach others. If possible, one should take as little as possible so as to keep the mind simple and focused. Some aspirants beg. Some fast. Some go homeless. These acts of renunciation aren't necessarily acts of self-destruction or internalized aggression (like Freud and Nietzsche argued). Renunciation simply clears the mind of daily troubles that aren't conducive to deeper insight. Ketchup or mustard? Damn, you just lost that chance at awakening. Cute or ugly? Whoops, just lost another. Mac or Dell? Well, surely that's important . . .
I gave away and sold some things when I got home to Kansas City and was considering giving away my laptop. God bless my mom, she helped me come up with a thousand reasons for why I should keep it. I decided on my own that I should keep it, but really, I am embarrassed that I still own it, and a closet full of other stuff at home. Every moment I gave away something, I felt better, looser, lighter, more self-sufficient, and fearless that I could go without. Now that I'm aspiring to a clearer mind, this freedom is more important to me than any potential convenience that most of my unnecessary possessions can give. I frequently doubt whether I need other things in my bag (like shaving cream ... come on Tim, you have a beard!).
I also think simplicity is a responsibility of privileged people who understand the harm that industrial culture brings to ourselves, the environment, and other cultures around the world. I am still consuming 3x my fair share of the planet's resources, although some people say that I'm "green". On a relative basis, some people in our culture are doing better than others; that's true. I take inspiration from a very intelligent, homeless Zen practitioner in Portland. Also, my friend Matt inspires me to give up on the excesses of industrial life and to struggle in solidarity with those who are suffering as a result of globalization.
I have not even touched the potential simplicity of mind and lifestyle that my true heart desires. Living in a monastery is one step in the right direction for me. There are still many comforts there, but the general climate is epitomized in the ritual meal oryoki, which in Japanese means, "just enough." Maybe one day, I will find out what "just enough" truly means. I have experimented far too much with consumer culture, and it's been just too much. Right now, I need to experiment with less.
On leaving home . . .
Most traditions recommend that the aspirant leaves home, at least for awhile. Why? I don't need to refer to any text here. Most people I talk to understand what happens when we return home. We revert to old habits. Every time I return to KC, I am not only Tim-the-22-year-old, but also Tim-the-5-year-old and Tim-the-16-year-old, etc. I am living out every stage of childhood development, whether I want to or not. I become embroiled in reactive, immature ways of behaving, and I am often drawn to old friends who enable me to repeat self-destructive behaviors.
Now, does Buddhism require you to stop loving your family and friends? Absolutely not. Actually, there are many texts and meditative practices that ask you to expand the love you have for these people, but then to extend that feeling to all other people and creatures. Relationships with family and friends are only problems if they involve intense, distracting feelings of exclusivity. It is selfish to only care about some people and not others, when, in fact, any kind of person could someday benefit from your help.
Also, I have noticed that when I am exclusively focused on loving friends and family, I often become very dissatisfied. I start expecting them to fulfill spiritual and emotional needs that they simply can't. Hey, Mom! Meditate for me! Hey, Dad! Tell me the meaning of life! Hey sister! I'm down; make me happier! We can't expect others to find the truth and joy in life for us. Duh. Tim-the-22-year-old gets that, but, at home, I continually regress to the inner-child in me who once expected those things out of my family. And it gets intense. I may live in Kansas City one day, but, frankly, I am still not mature enough to freely live amongst old family and friends without my own mental judgments, aversions, and desires hitting me at full force.
What else are you wondering about?
I am not offended or distraught by questions about why I am dedicating the next period of my life to Buddhist practice. As long as you mean well, I appreciate this feedback! So as a prompt for potential comments, is there anything else your wondering about? Questions, comments, concerns? I intend to maintain this blog throughout my stay.
Thanks for reading, I appreciate comments and feedback, so I know who's reading!
Why "Beginning Mind"?
I chose the blog title "Beginning Mind" as a variation of Shunryu Suzuki Roshi's book Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. By using the word "beginning," I mean that the mind is a process, not an object that is possessed by any owner. Consciousness happens whether we like it or not. We, in fact, are not in control of much that happens to our minds. We are, however, always capable of renewing our awareness to whatever is happening in the present moment. We can always begin again.
A continually beginning mind is the ideal of Zen practice. We aspire to receive every moment of life with new clarity, presence, and acceptance. In seated meditation, this involves continual renewal of awareness of the present moment from micro-second to micro-second. We re-awaken to whatever new stuff has come along, then do it again NOW, again NOW, NOW, NOW, ad infinitum. It is like upgrading an old monitor to one that processes more frames per second. Rather than getting caught in a cluttered, choppy view, our perception clarifies and flows. Life unfolds and we loose the hang-ups that were slowing us down. With more practice, commitment to a beginning mind can unfold deep, inexpressible insights into the way life has always been working. After such insights, we inevitably return to the world of frustrating thoughts and feelings, but with greater ease and spaciousness. It is tempting to cling to those old insights when they are not so obvious anymore . . . at that point, we must renew our beginning mind again to allow for newer insights.
Why a monastery?
Now that I have introduced the purpose of my blog, I hope I can talk a little bit about why I am going to a monastery. Loved ones, strangers, all kinds of people have asked me, "why a monastery?" After listening to a NPR segment on Jainism and Buddhism, my mom, a great teacher of mine and one of my top supporters, asks, "does renouncing the world mean you have to give up on the people who love you?" At a bar in Greencastle, IN, I stand 6 inches away from a wall of 5 TVs, blasting the same AXE deodorant commercial. A tipsy Slovenian artist, and new found friend, wraps his arm around me and yells into my ear, "you don't need to go to a monastery! The whole world should be your monastery! You can't just run away from it all." Most of my friends think its cool, most of my family supports me although they admit they don't understand. My closest mentors and friends have challenged me because they care. They don't want me to get stuck in institutionalized religion, stray too far from an academic/career path, undershoot my talents, or abandon all of my loving friends and family. I expect that some simply don't speak doubts or criticisms, but I have no way of confirming that.
Maybe I can address some lingering concerns . . . some questions are easier to answer than others.
On renouncing material possessions . . .
For thousands of years, it has been the tradition in, not only Buddhism, Hinduism and other Indian-based religions, but also Western traditions like Christianity and Islam, for spiritual aspirants to leave home, and, if possible, to study under wiser teachers and to perhaps even teach others. If possible, one should take as little as possible so as to keep the mind simple and focused. Some aspirants beg. Some fast. Some go homeless. These acts of renunciation aren't necessarily acts of self-destruction or internalized aggression (like Freud and Nietzsche argued). Renunciation simply clears the mind of daily troubles that aren't conducive to deeper insight. Ketchup or mustard? Damn, you just lost that chance at awakening. Cute or ugly? Whoops, just lost another. Mac or Dell? Well, surely that's important . . .
I gave away and sold some things when I got home to Kansas City and was considering giving away my laptop. God bless my mom, she helped me come up with a thousand reasons for why I should keep it. I decided on my own that I should keep it, but really, I am embarrassed that I still own it, and a closet full of other stuff at home. Every moment I gave away something, I felt better, looser, lighter, more self-sufficient, and fearless that I could go without. Now that I'm aspiring to a clearer mind, this freedom is more important to me than any potential convenience that most of my unnecessary possessions can give. I frequently doubt whether I need other things in my bag (like shaving cream ... come on Tim, you have a beard!).
I also think simplicity is a responsibility of privileged people who understand the harm that industrial culture brings to ourselves, the environment, and other cultures around the world. I am still consuming 3x my fair share of the planet's resources, although some people say that I'm "green". On a relative basis, some people in our culture are doing better than others; that's true. I take inspiration from a very intelligent, homeless Zen practitioner in Portland. Also, my friend Matt inspires me to give up on the excesses of industrial life and to struggle in solidarity with those who are suffering as a result of globalization.
I have not even touched the potential simplicity of mind and lifestyle that my true heart desires. Living in a monastery is one step in the right direction for me. There are still many comforts there, but the general climate is epitomized in the ritual meal oryoki, which in Japanese means, "just enough." Maybe one day, I will find out what "just enough" truly means. I have experimented far too much with consumer culture, and it's been just too much. Right now, I need to experiment with less.
On leaving home . . .
Most traditions recommend that the aspirant leaves home, at least for awhile. Why? I don't need to refer to any text here. Most people I talk to understand what happens when we return home. We revert to old habits. Every time I return to KC, I am not only Tim-the-22-year-old, but also Tim-the-5-year-old and Tim-the-16-year-old, etc. I am living out every stage of childhood development, whether I want to or not. I become embroiled in reactive, immature ways of behaving, and I am often drawn to old friends who enable me to repeat self-destructive behaviors.
Now, does Buddhism require you to stop loving your family and friends? Absolutely not. Actually, there are many texts and meditative practices that ask you to expand the love you have for these people, but then to extend that feeling to all other people and creatures. Relationships with family and friends are only problems if they involve intense, distracting feelings of exclusivity. It is selfish to only care about some people and not others, when, in fact, any kind of person could someday benefit from your help.
Also, I have noticed that when I am exclusively focused on loving friends and family, I often become very dissatisfied. I start expecting them to fulfill spiritual and emotional needs that they simply can't. Hey, Mom! Meditate for me! Hey, Dad! Tell me the meaning of life! Hey sister! I'm down; make me happier! We can't expect others to find the truth and joy in life for us. Duh. Tim-the-22-year-old gets that, but, at home, I continually regress to the inner-child in me who once expected those things out of my family. And it gets intense. I may live in Kansas City one day, but, frankly, I am still not mature enough to freely live amongst old family and friends without my own mental judgments, aversions, and desires hitting me at full force.
What else are you wondering about?
I am not offended or distraught by questions about why I am dedicating the next period of my life to Buddhist practice. As long as you mean well, I appreciate this feedback! So as a prompt for potential comments, is there anything else your wondering about? Questions, comments, concerns? I intend to maintain this blog throughout my stay.
Thanks for reading, I appreciate comments and feedback, so I know who's reading!
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Return Home
For all of you keeping up, thanks.
I returned home this week and will not be posting for awhile. I may post once more and attach the powerpoint presentation I am currently working on. To finalize my Howes grant from DePauw, I will be doing a public presentation on campus in the coming weeks. I will be reviewing everything I got to witness this summer, and presenting some of the themes I saw.
To retrace my steps. I began with a generous grant from my school in Greencastle, IN for my proposed project entitled, "New American Inquiries into the Nature of Consciousness", went home to Kansas City, and then headed toward:
1. BOULDER, CO. I visited Naropa University, spoke with students, faculty, and administrators; toured the grounds; and read literature about their graduate schools. I was personally interested in the Religious Studies programs and the Contemplative Psychotherapy and Transpersonal Psychology programs and how they took an alternative approach to studying consciousness. After Boulder, my friend Olivia and I drove to . . .
2. CRESTONE, CO. There we camped and stayed at various houses and hot springs. We spent most of our time visiting the plethora of spiritual centers there: Buddhist and Catholic monasteries, Hindu ashrams, and secular groups. Crestone is a unique place in the United States because it hosts around a dozen spiritual centers all within the vicinity of one small Colorado town. The centers started springing up there when a the family of a wealthy developer began funding their construction. The mountains are/were considered sacred by the various Native American groups who live there, and are admired for their spiritual power by traditions from all over the world. After Crestone, we drove to
3. TUSCON, AZ. I attended the bi-annual IONS conference for five days. I stayed with friends and Olivia flew on to California. The IONS conference hosted a diverse mix of workshops from alternative healers to spiritual gurus, long-time professors to fringe consciousness researchers, mainstream environmental geopolitics to myriad variations of new age ideology. I was exposed to the variety of research being done on the mind to investigate everything from altered states of consciousness and mystical experiences to whether or not we can obtain information from the dead. After TUSCON, I headed for
4. CARMEL VALLEY, CA. I stayed three days at Tassajara Retreat Center. The first and longest standing Zen Buddhist monastery in the U.S. During the Fall, Winter, and Spring months, Tassajara is a training monastery in the Soto Zen tradition where students follow the formal disciplines of ethical conduct, meditation, work practice, and frequent silent retreat. During the summer months, while I was there, the focus becomes work practice and many students visit to work and sit zazen. Most of the work is oriented toward maintaining the grounds and hosting guests who come to visit the hot springs and enjoy Tassajara's infamous cuisine. After learning more about their practice from students and teachers, I headed less than a hundred miles to the California coast to visit
5. BIG SUR, CA. I did a weekend retreat at Esalen Institute, a long-standing retreat center that has hosted workshops, concerts, and forums of all kinds of countercultural breed. The workshop I attended was entitled "When the Past is Present: Healing the Wounds of Past Relationships", hosted by David Richo who had recently published a book by the same title. The workshop was surprisingly potent for such a short period of time, and I learned a lot about myself. I was most interested, however, in how group therapy works and got to learn from Richo, a master at facilitating large groups. The sessions were a seamless flow of his own lectures, poems, readings, and answers to the groups questions, comments, and insights. I also researched how Esalen has structured itself as an educational institution and how it facilitates communities of learning through its unique and dense workshop schedule. After Big Sur, I drove into
6. SAN FRANCISCO, CA. Right in time for the gay pride parade! After an overwhelming introduction to the city of love, I stayed at a hostel, and met the next morning with a counselor from CIIS, California Institute of Integral Studies. My exposure to CIIS was brief, but I got to tour the facilities and ask questions about the school, specifically the Philosophy, Cosmology, and Consciousness (PCC) and East-West Psychology programs. I also met multiple people along my journey who had studied in the PCC program and picked their brains about what to expect at CIIS. After CIIS, my final leg of the trip was to
7. OREGON. I first stayed with friends in Portland then headed to Clatskanie, OR where I would stay at Great Vow Monastery for almost a month and a half. Great Vow is a Soto/Rinzai Zen Monastery run under the instruction of Co-Abbots Chozen and Hogen Bays. This was intended to be the "in-depth" portion of my research, and it certainly turned out to be a rich investigation of another way to investigate, study, and transform one's own mind. My experience at Great Vow was so rich and varied, it's very difficult to adequately summarize it. I didn't have enough time to post very much about my experience while I was there because words seemed so inadequate at the time. They still do, but as my presentation approaches, I will muster up some inadequate expression and hopefully post it. I began this project and entered Great Vow with the hope that there were effective and meaningful approaches to understanding one's own consciousness outside traditional academic life. Needless to say, that hope was answered.
Now, as I begin to summarize my summer experience, I realize there are conclusions to draw on multiple levels. On one level, the American university is in good company in its traditional search to understand life and its meaningfulness. On another, I have been exposed to future opportunities for myself - monastic, academic, and otherwise - as I graduate from college next Spring. On another level, I found this research extremely helpful in my attempt to assist others on their own paths. I have already met at least a dozen people seriously interested in the institutions I've visited and have been able to answer at least some of their questions.
A lot of what I learned about these places still remains pretty superficial, however. Not even a month gets me anywhere close to adequately appreciating a place and what it does for people. Leaving DePauw, I can still think of so many corners of its campus about which I know nothing. On the flip side, however, its amazing how just a morsel of information about a place can completely re-orient our impression. All and all, this summer did a lot to give me hope for the U.S. in its own spiritual quest. It also exposed me to how much I'll never know about this place.
Thanks again for reading. I appreciate any feedback about the blog or comments about how I can improve it on my next trip.
I returned home this week and will not be posting for awhile. I may post once more and attach the powerpoint presentation I am currently working on. To finalize my Howes grant from DePauw, I will be doing a public presentation on campus in the coming weeks. I will be reviewing everything I got to witness this summer, and presenting some of the themes I saw.
To retrace my steps. I began with a generous grant from my school in Greencastle, IN for my proposed project entitled, "New American Inquiries into the Nature of Consciousness", went home to Kansas City, and then headed toward:
1. BOULDER, CO. I visited Naropa University, spoke with students, faculty, and administrators; toured the grounds; and read literature about their graduate schools. I was personally interested in the Religious Studies programs and the Contemplative Psychotherapy and Transpersonal Psychology programs and how they took an alternative approach to studying consciousness. After Boulder, my friend Olivia and I drove to . . .
2. CRESTONE, CO. There we camped and stayed at various houses and hot springs. We spent most of our time visiting the plethora of spiritual centers there: Buddhist and Catholic monasteries, Hindu ashrams, and secular groups. Crestone is a unique place in the United States because it hosts around a dozen spiritual centers all within the vicinity of one small Colorado town. The centers started springing up there when a the family of a wealthy developer began funding their construction. The mountains are/were considered sacred by the various Native American groups who live there, and are admired for their spiritual power by traditions from all over the world. After Crestone, we drove to
3. TUSCON, AZ. I attended the bi-annual IONS conference for five days. I stayed with friends and Olivia flew on to California. The IONS conference hosted a diverse mix of workshops from alternative healers to spiritual gurus, long-time professors to fringe consciousness researchers, mainstream environmental geopolitics to myriad variations of new age ideology. I was exposed to the variety of research being done on the mind to investigate everything from altered states of consciousness and mystical experiences to whether or not we can obtain information from the dead. After TUSCON, I headed for
4. CARMEL VALLEY, CA. I stayed three days at Tassajara Retreat Center. The first and longest standing Zen Buddhist monastery in the U.S. During the Fall, Winter, and Spring months, Tassajara is a training monastery in the Soto Zen tradition where students follow the formal disciplines of ethical conduct, meditation, work practice, and frequent silent retreat. During the summer months, while I was there, the focus becomes work practice and many students visit to work and sit zazen. Most of the work is oriented toward maintaining the grounds and hosting guests who come to visit the hot springs and enjoy Tassajara's infamous cuisine. After learning more about their practice from students and teachers, I headed less than a hundred miles to the California coast to visit
5. BIG SUR, CA. I did a weekend retreat at Esalen Institute, a long-standing retreat center that has hosted workshops, concerts, and forums of all kinds of countercultural breed. The workshop I attended was entitled "When the Past is Present: Healing the Wounds of Past Relationships", hosted by David Richo who had recently published a book by the same title. The workshop was surprisingly potent for such a short period of time, and I learned a lot about myself. I was most interested, however, in how group therapy works and got to learn from Richo, a master at facilitating large groups. The sessions were a seamless flow of his own lectures, poems, readings, and answers to the groups questions, comments, and insights. I also researched how Esalen has structured itself as an educational institution and how it facilitates communities of learning through its unique and dense workshop schedule. After Big Sur, I drove into
6. SAN FRANCISCO, CA. Right in time for the gay pride parade! After an overwhelming introduction to the city of love, I stayed at a hostel, and met the next morning with a counselor from CIIS, California Institute of Integral Studies. My exposure to CIIS was brief, but I got to tour the facilities and ask questions about the school, specifically the Philosophy, Cosmology, and Consciousness (PCC) and East-West Psychology programs. I also met multiple people along my journey who had studied in the PCC program and picked their brains about what to expect at CIIS. After CIIS, my final leg of the trip was to
7. OREGON. I first stayed with friends in Portland then headed to Clatskanie, OR where I would stay at Great Vow Monastery for almost a month and a half. Great Vow is a Soto/Rinzai Zen Monastery run under the instruction of Co-Abbots Chozen and Hogen Bays. This was intended to be the "in-depth" portion of my research, and it certainly turned out to be a rich investigation of another way to investigate, study, and transform one's own mind. My experience at Great Vow was so rich and varied, it's very difficult to adequately summarize it. I didn't have enough time to post very much about my experience while I was there because words seemed so inadequate at the time. They still do, but as my presentation approaches, I will muster up some inadequate expression and hopefully post it. I began this project and entered Great Vow with the hope that there were effective and meaningful approaches to understanding one's own consciousness outside traditional academic life. Needless to say, that hope was answered.
Now, as I begin to summarize my summer experience, I realize there are conclusions to draw on multiple levels. On one level, the American university is in good company in its traditional search to understand life and its meaningfulness. On another, I have been exposed to future opportunities for myself - monastic, academic, and otherwise - as I graduate from college next Spring. On another level, I found this research extremely helpful in my attempt to assist others on their own paths. I have already met at least a dozen people seriously interested in the institutions I've visited and have been able to answer at least some of their questions.
A lot of what I learned about these places still remains pretty superficial, however. Not even a month gets me anywhere close to adequately appreciating a place and what it does for people. Leaving DePauw, I can still think of so many corners of its campus about which I know nothing. On the flip side, however, its amazing how just a morsel of information about a place can completely re-orient our impression. All and all, this summer did a lot to give me hope for the U.S. in its own spiritual quest. It also exposed me to how much I'll never know about this place.
Thanks again for reading. I appreciate any feedback about the blog or comments about how I can improve it on my next trip.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Great Vow - After 2 1/2 Weeks
My time here has been well spent. Zen practice has been simply fulfilling. Each day brings new challenges, yet new insights.
The entire community - abbots, senior and novice priests, long and short-term residents, and occasional visitors - creates a nurturing environment for investigation into life's deepest questions: who am I? what's my purpose? what's permanent and impermanent in life?
Personally, I have already begun to develop greater awareness of my body, my own behavioral and thought patterns, and most importantly, the simple joy of just being. At the monastery we spend a lot of time working and reflecting on our lives, but we also spend a lot of time just sitting, just working, just walking, just listening . . . The schedule is intended to give the individual sufficient time to focus on just one activity. About half of the day is spent in silence so that we can focus on what's in front of us: our food, our toilet, our bed, our emotion, our opinion, our open awareness into wider space.
Contrary to many people's assumptions about meditation, Zen practice is not about disengagement from the world, but 24/7 engagement through opening the senses, the mind, and the heart. It's not about about sensory deprivation or going somewhere else; it's about letting it in and staying right where you are. It's about what's here. In Zen, we're constantly encouraged to ask of our own experience, 'what's here?' 'What stays?' The remarkable thing is how easily most of my experiences changed or passed away when I truly paid attention to them.
I've also been surprised at how much fun I'm having! The other people here are a lot of fun to hang out with and talk to. A lot of the senior practitioners are kind, wise, etc. but they're also really clever and witty. I think it's because they've spent so much time paying attention to the present moment that they can crack a joke on the spot. Also, humor is a desperately needed relaxant to the lifestyle of constant work and meditation. There isn't a lot of free time, but just enough to play a quick game of basketball or sit down with a friend and drink coffee. I've found that I don't really desire that much entertainment when I'm fully present with the entertainment I'm given. Often, I think I'm caught in the opposite cycle: constantly desiring more entertainment, while I'm not paying attention to the joys in front of me.
As for work, I've been spending most of my time helping a regular volunteer build a greenhouse. It's been really nice to direct my mind on some kind of project. Consequently though, I have lots of images of screws and bolts come up in meditation! One time, I fell asleep during meditation and dreamed that I was walking down the side of a mountain with these 6 foot screws drilled into the side!
The screwy dream doesn't even begin to touch the highs and lows of sitting zazen (Zen meditation): the pain, the ecstasy, the hallucinations, the vivid present moment, the sheer dull boredom, the list goes on . . . Teachers emphasize that, in zazen, we must let these states come and go without getting stuck to one in particular, no matter how many times it repeats over and over again. Sounds easy, right? That's another point of Zen practice; the most profound spiritual teachings are the simple ones we already know, but haven't taken the time to fully realize all the way to our bones. It really is about just letting go, about just sitting and being with whatever happens.
Well, I go into sesshin tomorrow, which is a weeklong silent retreat. Wish me luck and thanks for reading.
P.S. For those of you wondering, I'll be leaving the monastery on August 9 and returning to Kansas City August 17.
The entire community - abbots, senior and novice priests, long and short-term residents, and occasional visitors - creates a nurturing environment for investigation into life's deepest questions: who am I? what's my purpose? what's permanent and impermanent in life?
Personally, I have already begun to develop greater awareness of my body, my own behavioral and thought patterns, and most importantly, the simple joy of just being. At the monastery we spend a lot of time working and reflecting on our lives, but we also spend a lot of time just sitting, just working, just walking, just listening . . . The schedule is intended to give the individual sufficient time to focus on just one activity. About half of the day is spent in silence so that we can focus on what's in front of us: our food, our toilet, our bed, our emotion, our opinion, our open awareness into wider space.
Contrary to many people's assumptions about meditation, Zen practice is not about disengagement from the world, but 24/7 engagement through opening the senses, the mind, and the heart. It's not about about sensory deprivation or going somewhere else; it's about letting it in and staying right where you are. It's about what's here. In Zen, we're constantly encouraged to ask of our own experience, 'what's here?' 'What stays?' The remarkable thing is how easily most of my experiences changed or passed away when I truly paid attention to them.
I've also been surprised at how much fun I'm having! The other people here are a lot of fun to hang out with and talk to. A lot of the senior practitioners are kind, wise, etc. but they're also really clever and witty. I think it's because they've spent so much time paying attention to the present moment that they can crack a joke on the spot. Also, humor is a desperately needed relaxant to the lifestyle of constant work and meditation. There isn't a lot of free time, but just enough to play a quick game of basketball or sit down with a friend and drink coffee. I've found that I don't really desire that much entertainment when I'm fully present with the entertainment I'm given. Often, I think I'm caught in the opposite cycle: constantly desiring more entertainment, while I'm not paying attention to the joys in front of me.
As for work, I've been spending most of my time helping a regular volunteer build a greenhouse. It's been really nice to direct my mind on some kind of project. Consequently though, I have lots of images of screws and bolts come up in meditation! One time, I fell asleep during meditation and dreamed that I was walking down the side of a mountain with these 6 foot screws drilled into the side!
The screwy dream doesn't even begin to touch the highs and lows of sitting zazen (Zen meditation): the pain, the ecstasy, the hallucinations, the vivid present moment, the sheer dull boredom, the list goes on . . . Teachers emphasize that, in zazen, we must let these states come and go without getting stuck to one in particular, no matter how many times it repeats over and over again. Sounds easy, right? That's another point of Zen practice; the most profound spiritual teachings are the simple ones we already know, but haven't taken the time to fully realize all the way to our bones. It really is about just letting go, about just sitting and being with whatever happens.
Well, I go into sesshin tomorrow, which is a weeklong silent retreat. Wish me luck and thanks for reading.
P.S. For those of you wondering, I'll be leaving the monastery on August 9 and returning to Kansas City August 17.
Monday, July 6, 2009
First Few Days at Great Vow
Well, I arrived at Great Vow Monastery Thursday evening and now it's Tuesday.
Simply put, I love it here. However, my experience so far has been pretty skewed. This summer period happened to (or was intentionally designed to) begin at one of Great Vow's more relazed moments in the year. Every year, they have a July 4 celebration that involves participation in the parade, an open picnic with games for the public, and a full day off for residents. Then the next day was their open program, then the regular weekly day off! So of the 4 days I've been here, only one has been on the regular meditation/work schedule which is probably the most rigorous thing I've ever tried. So, the schedule starts up again tomorrow, and we'll see how it goes! All and all, though, I'm really looking forward to it.
I've been really enjoying the company of the other temporary residents as well as the more permanent residents at Great Vow. They're generally very mature, curious, and open-hearted people. Particularly, the long-term residents and the two co-abbots, Chozen and Hogen Bays, are inspiring role models and teachers. I'm really drawn to the teachings of the two abbots and the relevance of their teachings for everyday life.
Here's their bios ripped right from the website:
"Jan Chozen Bays, Roshi
1945 -
Jan Chozen Bays has studied and practiced Zen Buddhism since 1973. She received Jukai (lay precepts) in 1975 and Tokudo, Priest's Ordination, in 1979 from Taizan Maezumi, Roshi. From 1978 to 1983 she lived at the Zen Center of Los Angeles, studying with Maezumi Roshi and directing the Zen Center's non-profit Medical Clinic. She finished formal koan study in 1983, and she was given Dharma transmission, authorization to teach, the same year. Following the death of Maezumi Roshi in 1995 she has continued her training with Shodo Harada Roshi, a Rinzai Zen teacher, abbot of Sogen-ji monastery in Japan.
Since 1985 Chozen has been the teacher for the Zen Community of Oregon. In 2002 she helped to found Great Vow Zen Monastery and currently is the co-abbot.
She has published articles about Zen in Tricycle and Buddhadharma magazines. Her book, Jizo Bodhisattva, Modern Healing and Traditional Buddhist Practice (Tuttle Publishing, 2002), has been re-issued in paperback as Jizo Bodhisattva, Guardian of Children, Women and Other Voyagers by Shambhala Publishing. Chozen is also a pediatrician, mother and wife. As a physician she is very interested in how meditation and science interface. She is particularly involved teaching how to use meditation to work with eating disorders and grief.
Hogen Bays, Zen Teacher
1949 -
Hogen Bays began practicing in 1968 with Philip Kapleau, Roshi and was part of the residential staff at the Zen Center of Rochester in Rochester, New York until 1975.
He lived and trained at the Zen Center of Los Angeles under the direction of Taizan Maezumi , Roshi from 1980-1984. In 1990 he took Tokudo, Priest’s Ordination, with Maezumi Roshi. Since 1990, Hogen has continued his Zen studies with Rinzai Zen teacher Shodo Harada Roshi, abbot of Sogen-ji monastery in Japan and One Drop Zendo in Tahoma, Washington. In 2000, after advice and consultation with Harada, Roshi and other Zen teachers he received Dharma Transmission from Chozen, Roshi.
He has been a leader of the Zen Community of Oregon since 1985 and worked full-time for the sangha since 1997. He is co-abbot of Great Vow Zen Monastery.
Hogen holds a Naturopathic Doctor (ND) and Master’s Degree (MS) in Psychology. He worked for the Oregon Department of Corrections for 15 years."
There's also a lot of really interesting features to the monastery. It was once an old grade school, unused for a long time, and converted to a monastery by the Bays when they bought it in the 90s. The structure is still relatively the same, except major renovations of an old gym to make it a zendo (meditation hall). Otherwise it has all the same components of a grade school converted for monastic use: cafeteria, classrooms (now residences), offices, bathrooms, mass showers, etc. Also on the grounds they have Zen Works (a space partitioned off, dedicated to sewing and building meditation supplies), a statue studio (an old pottery room with kiln where they make statues of buddhas and bodhisattvas, particularly Jizo Bodhisattva), a large organic garden, smaller berry garden, greenhouse, recently built meditation tree house and meditation hut, hiking trails, rock gardens, music room, and Jizo garden.
To explain the music room and the Jizo garden . . . First, much to my delight and surprise, Hogen and Chozen have both been playing marimba and leading marimba groups for about a decade. So, in the school's old music room, they have 6-8 marimbas, including a massive bass marimba, along with other percussion instruments, acoustic guitars, keyboards, and piano. I used to take marimba lessons and was happy to hear they had marimbas here to practice on. I've even been practicing with a few people to prepare a performance of a couple really simple songs! Now these are pentatonic marimbas, meaning they don't have the flats and sharps of a regular keyboard, so the music is super simple. It's simpler than what I am used to doing, but I also didn't enjoy what I was doing before as much as I am now.
Second, the Jizo garden is an area dedicated to the memory of children who have died. In Japanese Buddhism, Jizo Bodhisattva is the bodhisattva of women, children, and travelers. In Buddhism, a bodhisattva is similar to saints and angels in Christianity, but they aren't exactly historical figures. Chozen-san has a particular affinitiy for Jizo and even wrote a well-published book about him. All over the monastery there are dozens of Jizo statues, and the monastery is dedicated to the bodhisattva. The Jizo garden is located in the woods behind the monastery. In the garden there are dozens of Jizo statues; each one is dedicated to the memory of a lost child. Each Jizo of the dozens had its own ceremony with the parents and loved ones who wanted to commemorate their child's memory. Each guardian also sewed a garment for their Jizo. The garden is very powerful.
I'm currently living in a large classroom with four other guys, but our beds are separated by a complex of walled desks and tables. It sounds odd, but it's actually pretty nice. It gives me enough privacy, drawers for my stuff, and room for yoga, and that is all I really need.
Well, those are some details about the monastery. I'll probably get more into my personal experience as the schedule intensifies. Keep in touch and thanks for reading.
Simply put, I love it here. However, my experience so far has been pretty skewed. This summer period happened to (or was intentionally designed to) begin at one of Great Vow's more relazed moments in the year. Every year, they have a July 4 celebration that involves participation in the parade, an open picnic with games for the public, and a full day off for residents. Then the next day was their open program, then the regular weekly day off! So of the 4 days I've been here, only one has been on the regular meditation/work schedule which is probably the most rigorous thing I've ever tried. So, the schedule starts up again tomorrow, and we'll see how it goes! All and all, though, I'm really looking forward to it.
I've been really enjoying the company of the other temporary residents as well as the more permanent residents at Great Vow. They're generally very mature, curious, and open-hearted people. Particularly, the long-term residents and the two co-abbots, Chozen and Hogen Bays, are inspiring role models and teachers. I'm really drawn to the teachings of the two abbots and the relevance of their teachings for everyday life.
Here's their bios ripped right from the website:
"Jan Chozen Bays, Roshi
1945 -
Jan Chozen Bays has studied and practiced Zen Buddhism since 1973. She received Jukai (lay precepts) in 1975 and Tokudo, Priest's Ordination, in 1979 from Taizan Maezumi, Roshi. From 1978 to 1983 she lived at the Zen Center of Los Angeles, studying with Maezumi Roshi and directing the Zen Center's non-profit Medical Clinic. She finished formal koan study in 1983, and she was given Dharma transmission, authorization to teach, the same year. Following the death of Maezumi Roshi in 1995 she has continued her training with Shodo Harada Roshi, a Rinzai Zen teacher, abbot of Sogen-ji monastery in Japan.
Since 1985 Chozen has been the teacher for the Zen Community of Oregon. In 2002 she helped to found Great Vow Zen Monastery and currently is the co-abbot.
She has published articles about Zen in Tricycle and Buddhadharma magazines. Her book, Jizo Bodhisattva, Modern Healing and Traditional Buddhist Practice (Tuttle Publishing, 2002), has been re-issued in paperback as Jizo Bodhisattva, Guardian of Children, Women and Other Voyagers by Shambhala Publishing. Chozen is also a pediatrician, mother and wife. As a physician she is very interested in how meditation and science interface. She is particularly involved teaching how to use meditation to work with eating disorders and grief.
Hogen Bays, Zen Teacher
1949 -
Hogen Bays began practicing in 1968 with Philip Kapleau, Roshi and was part of the residential staff at the Zen Center of Rochester in Rochester, New York until 1975.
He lived and trained at the Zen Center of Los Angeles under the direction of Taizan Maezumi , Roshi from 1980-1984. In 1990 he took Tokudo, Priest’s Ordination, with Maezumi Roshi. Since 1990, Hogen has continued his Zen studies with Rinzai Zen teacher Shodo Harada Roshi, abbot of Sogen-ji monastery in Japan and One Drop Zendo in Tahoma, Washington. In 2000, after advice and consultation with Harada, Roshi and other Zen teachers he received Dharma Transmission from Chozen, Roshi.
He has been a leader of the Zen Community of Oregon since 1985 and worked full-time for the sangha since 1997. He is co-abbot of Great Vow Zen Monastery.
Hogen holds a Naturopathic Doctor (ND) and Master’s Degree (MS) in Psychology. He worked for the Oregon Department of Corrections for 15 years."
There's also a lot of really interesting features to the monastery. It was once an old grade school, unused for a long time, and converted to a monastery by the Bays when they bought it in the 90s. The structure is still relatively the same, except major renovations of an old gym to make it a zendo (meditation hall). Otherwise it has all the same components of a grade school converted for monastic use: cafeteria, classrooms (now residences), offices, bathrooms, mass showers, etc. Also on the grounds they have Zen Works (a space partitioned off, dedicated to sewing and building meditation supplies), a statue studio (an old pottery room with kiln where they make statues of buddhas and bodhisattvas, particularly Jizo Bodhisattva), a large organic garden, smaller berry garden, greenhouse, recently built meditation tree house and meditation hut, hiking trails, rock gardens, music room, and Jizo garden.
To explain the music room and the Jizo garden . . . First, much to my delight and surprise, Hogen and Chozen have both been playing marimba and leading marimba groups for about a decade. So, in the school's old music room, they have 6-8 marimbas, including a massive bass marimba, along with other percussion instruments, acoustic guitars, keyboards, and piano. I used to take marimba lessons and was happy to hear they had marimbas here to practice on. I've even been practicing with a few people to prepare a performance of a couple really simple songs! Now these are pentatonic marimbas, meaning they don't have the flats and sharps of a regular keyboard, so the music is super simple. It's simpler than what I am used to doing, but I also didn't enjoy what I was doing before as much as I am now.
Second, the Jizo garden is an area dedicated to the memory of children who have died. In Japanese Buddhism, Jizo Bodhisattva is the bodhisattva of women, children, and travelers. In Buddhism, a bodhisattva is similar to saints and angels in Christianity, but they aren't exactly historical figures. Chozen-san has a particular affinitiy for Jizo and even wrote a well-published book about him. All over the monastery there are dozens of Jizo statues, and the monastery is dedicated to the bodhisattva. The Jizo garden is located in the woods behind the monastery. In the garden there are dozens of Jizo statues; each one is dedicated to the memory of a lost child. Each Jizo of the dozens had its own ceremony with the parents and loved ones who wanted to commemorate their child's memory. Each guardian also sewed a garment for their Jizo. The garden is very powerful.
I'm currently living in a large classroom with four other guys, but our beds are separated by a complex of walled desks and tables. It sounds odd, but it's actually pretty nice. It gives me enough privacy, drawers for my stuff, and room for yoga, and that is all I really need.
Well, those are some details about the monastery. I'll probably get more into my personal experience as the schedule intensifies. Keep in touch and thanks for reading.
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