“…And your mind becomes almost visible and you know there is nothing that is not mysterious. And that no moment is less important than this moment. And that imprisonment is not possible.” — from “After Ritsos” by Malena Morlin (really beautifully sums up the feeling I have when I meditate!)
Hi Everyone! I loved this past Saturday. I know I am supposed to be grateful for every day, whether I loved it or not. I know that the Zen saying goes, “Every day is a good day.” Thanks to a certain Aikido sensei/Zen Master who is my dad, I never had to look far to reground myself in this bit of wisdom.
But it doesn’t always click. The koan “Every day is a good day” sounds simple enough, but more often than not, in the search for the nameless truth, it is actually names and labels that end up steering our point of view. So BAM! Existential doom.
The details are pervasive in the background. And how easy it is to mistake its teeming mass for substance, when we don’t know what it is to be still. I certainly don’t know how to be still. Whenever I freak out, my dad has to always give me the same advice: Sit. Meditate. I always take his advice but never meditate on my own accord. Usually I much prefer to console myself with the non-stop voices in my head and let them possess me and drive me INSANE. And then, like a nutcase, wonder why I can’t find a solution that was lasting or satisfying.
Without fail, when I took Dad’s advice and meditated I would feel worlds better. Rigid dualities gave way to endless possibility! I felt no compulsive need to stress-eat! I became physically incapable of whining! I saw God and she looked happy! But meditating for more than two days in a row was weirdly un-doable for me. I would not do it until the next time I reached my psychological wit’s end and absolutely needed to make that frantic phone call home. So as you can see, I am no great student of meditation.
Fast forward to this weekend! I got the chance to go to Engaku-Ji, a beautiful temple in Kamakura (where the daibutsu in the picture above is located!! that was a very crowded spot, unlike Engaku-Ji thank goodness!). Once every fall and every spring, the priests/monks hold a meditation session. I felt nervous and excited to go. I didn’t know what to expect. I don’t usually meditate for periods longer than 10 minutes and we would definitely be meditating for longer than that. I secretly feared that I would be incapable of the disciplined stillness and just crumble into the shapes of my deepest darkest demons.
loved this as soon as i saw it. all these temples/monk quarters tucked away in the mountains. if this doesn’t make you feel peaceful i don’t know what will!
But once I got there, my anxieties somehow transformed into consciousness. The beauty of Engaku-ji is so magnificent that consciousness feels like the only option that there ever was and ever will be. I felt like I had entered heaven. The weather was beautiful, sunny, clear and cool. The breeze seemed to push us along the path and we were greeted by the head priest’s youngest daughter who led us up to the temple where we would be meditating.
Once we were inside the priest’s house, I found a seat to listen to his talk. While we were waiting for the priest to start his talk, this kindly 90 year-old man gave me all these origami treasures he made! In that moment I felt so encouraged and happy even though my legs were already getting numb sitting on the floor. Note: one of the trying aspects of Zen meditation is the way we sit…your legs get unbearably numb in the way they are supposed to be crossed and you are not allowed to move! Just breathe deeply and quiet your mind. It was such a sweet gesture that seemed like the simplest purpose of humanity.
so cute! i will keep them forever!
cute duck pop-up thing! it made me so happy.
The priest looked like the Dalai Lama. It was so uncanny. His talk was completely in Japanese, and I tried to focus to understand as much as I could without getting too distracted by his resemblance to the Dalai Lama. His talk was about the September typhoon and how this fall the maple leaves could not change color (they’re usually red by this time) because of the salty winds. But, he emphasized, nature is not attached to any fixed sequence; the leaves continue to draw from a deeper source and live on in whatever way they can. There is an eternal life beyond form or color; the abundance of life in spite of whatever setbacks shows that all life can always access something vital. Even though the form is something different, form does not matter; name does not matter. Can we look beyond form and to that source for the same sustenance?
the leaves are all white with salt. but they are ALIVE! Every day is a good day. =)
the table at the front is where the priest gave his talk from; we sat on the green cushions
the dark area where the light is shining through on the left is where we meditated. if you look closely, you can see the pile of zabus (pillows) we use to meditate on.
After the talk, we went to another temple to do zazen, Japanese Zen meditation led by the priest’s monk son. Walking over, I felt oddly calm. All my nerves were gone because they were simply irrelevant. The origami, the talk, the sheer energy of the place worked wonders. The meditation went by so quickly. I actually wanted it to go on longer. My mind stopped churning nothing into something and just became as nothing as a vacant portal into an essence of space. In hindsight, I guess I will name that feeling as “amazing.” My legs got numb, but not all the way up to my butt in the danger-I-want-to-squirm-uncontrollably zone. I didn’t have to sneeze and no beads of sweat trickled down into any odd crevices. I was inspired to meditate all the time from now on. It was then time for lunch served and prepared by the monks.
The lunch revolved around simple dishes: rice, miso soup, tsukemono (pickled vegetables). And rice was the main star, as usual. In another stroke of luck, the rice, that is usually prepared with chestnuts which I am allergic to, was for this day prepared with gingko nuts, which I am completely fine with and happen to love! Every day is a good day; there’s so much to be grateful for! The whole meal was conducted in complete silence. Zenzen hanasenaiyo! (We couldn’t talk at all). Which was good because I have a very bad habit of waving my chopsticks around when I talk. It’s very bad manners in Japan and just kind of dangerous in general (you can poke your friend’s eye out etc). We would continue to be served bowl after bowl of rice/soup unless we communicated otherwise with hand gestures. We were instructed to save one piece of tsukemono for when they poured tea into one of our bowls at the end. We would use that piece to help scrub each dish/bowl clean with the tea and drink/eat up all the remaining scraps. That way not a grain of rice was wasted. And all the bowls looked sparkly and clean afterwards.
yum yum yum! stay tuned for the picture of the old-fashioned glorious apparatus they smoke this rice in!!!
After lunch, the priest’s son, the monk who led us in zazen, let us see the monks’ quarters and the temple that houses Buddha’s ashes. These areas were off-limits to the public and I count myself so very blessed to have gotten to experience all this.
the large door is always bolted, but the monks (and their special guests) go in and out of this little secret door
this is what the priest’s son was wearing. super cool. looks really big but on the person it looks very impressive and sturdy and beautiful.
monks’ sandals
ahhhhh! this is the amazing apparatus they use to smoke cook the rice!!!!! that’s why it tasted like so much more than rice. like holy grains of nirvana.
i love how from above one of the monk quarters, you can look down and see the monks farming. they grow all their own food!
As we walked back down the path, the priest’s son came up to me and said, “The way you sit is very beautiful. Kirei deshoo. Your meditation is just beautiful. Very beautiful.” WHOA. This is coming from a monk, the head priest’s son no less! And it’s not like he goes around singling out individuals. Or say things he doesn’t mean…he’s a monk after all and says what he means and means what he says. He radiated that sinewy power and peacefulness (you’d think that’s contradictory, right?) that only Zen people can. I was so honored — Dad! You would have been so proud! I was simply doing what I knew how to do: sit up straight, breathe, and strive for consciousness. I guess if I could name how I felt when he told me that, I would call it “sublime.”
So maybe the best way I can end this post (and it was a long one, thank you for reading!) is not with words but with pictures! Mata ne!
…ok, i know i said i would be quiet, but just had to point out…there were tons of beautiful spider webs all over…can you see the one in this picture? =)
swoopingcurve 