Dispatch #8: Peace Flutters Atop a Mountain
An Overdue Post from an Exhausted Monk 📿
Dear Spark Zen Readers, I hope you’re still out there! My sincerest apologies for allowing a couple of weeks to pass without any words from the monastic valley. Although we mostly just sit and stare at a wall, life can sometimes get quite busy here, especially once Thanksgiving arrives. We had a lovely holiday where we spent the morning working together: cooking in the kitchen, tidying the dining room, creating a beautiful altar, and raking up the carpet of autumnal leaves.
My spouse Tanya visited for the Friendsgiving holiday. Usually, there are few, if any, visitors allowed to come during the cloistered practice period; however, since she lived her for seven years—this is where we met in 2015—she was given permission to return to the community of mountains monks and celebrate with us.
It’s become a tradition that on Thanksgiving evening we gather in the heated retreat hall to watch a movie. We call it Samsara Cinema. This time we watched one of my favorite movies: I Heart Huckabees. If you’ve not seen this comedy, I highly recommend it! I don’t have time to offer a review of the film in this post, but its gossamer plot focuses on a young environmental activist who hires two existential detectives to help him clarify the meaning of life: Is everything interconnected and purposeful? Or is it a collision of random events? Or maybe, both are mysteriously true?
The day after Thanksgiving we all slept in. There was a 6:30 wake-up bell and there was no meditation or service. We gathered in the dining room at 6:50 for breakfast and conversation. For us monks, this was quite an indulgent morning of unstructured time and of course, the extra sleep is always welcome.
Given that Tanya’s not one to remain idle and sedentary, we set off at 8:30 AM with full bellies and cold hands and hiked up to flag rock—a mountain top where Tibetan peace flags are strung. I don’t know when that tradition began, but since I arrived in June 2008, there’s been Tibetan flags fluttering in the wind up there. Every year or so, they are replaced by someone.
The next day, Tanya and I hiked the Tony Trail—where a month ago, me and a rattlesnake had a dharmic encounter—which is one of the most strenuous trails near the monastery. We had to cross the cold creek first, and Tanya was kind enough to rearrange the stones in the creek so I wouldn’t have to take my shoes off and walk barefoot on the slippery rocks in the water. Though, it’s not exactly dangerous given how shallow the creek is, but it was frigid. Needless to say that after two days of hiking, I was pretty tired-exhilarated. As you can see from the photos below, we monks are fortunate to live amid such astounding beauty.
Today, Sunday, Dec. 3rd, has been a day of rest for all of us. For tomorrow, the Great Assembly of monks embarks on a thousand-years old, seven-day journey that begins and ends on the meditation cushion: rohatsu sesshin. The Japanese word “rohatsu” means “the eighth day of the twelfth month” and it’s when Buddhists commemorate Siddhartha’s enlightenment. The word “sesshin” means “to collect” or “to touch body-mind.”
During the seven days leading to up to Buddha’s Enlightenment Day, we at Tassajara will sit about five more periods of meditation each day and have an earlier wake-up bell (3:50 instead of 4:30). We work less and spend much more time in noble silence so I will be offline until Dec. 11th.
The last time I participated in rohatsu sesshin at Tassajara was December 2018. Rohatsu officially begins at evening zazen at 7:45. My heart-mind is keen to sit in the cave of emptiness, while my knees are trepidatious.
It’s now 5 PM and I must send this now . . .
Thanks for this beautiful post, Heather. Very moving to see the photo of the old zendo. I was sitting there during a Chosan ceremony when that fire started. No one was injured in the fire--except the Buddha on the altar, which was impeccably repaired at the Asian Art Museum. On another note, then Governor Jerry Brown and Linda Ronstadt were allowed to visit Tassajara during a winter practice period when I was there--the monks weren't too happy about it. When the couple returned to Jamesburg, there were reporters waiting for them. When asked if she enjoyed visiting the monastery, Linda replied, "You could fall in love with Genghis Khan at Tassajara."
Beautiful spots. Thank you for sharing them. What an amazing Thanksgiving time.