The path began when sensing my mom’s holiness. Her head was down, her prayers were deep and wide, her kindness blessed us all.
In church and up high in the tree in our front yard, I kept wondering what it was all about and carried a big WHY in my heart, especially when seeing people struggle on the street. This WHY became my never ending koan. Why were people poor, why is there suffering?
After finishing high school, my father stated there were two choices: to go to work or to the local college for free. I was quite unhappy at the time, with my brother in Vietnam and drugs swirling around. Eventually I was fortunate to meet my philosophy teacher who was a Zen Buddhist at the all-girls Catholic college I was attending in my hometown. He started a sitting group. We made our own clay teacups and had tea ceremonies after we sat. Every week we sat at the college for a year or two, and I began to take more classes from Mr. Nordstrom. Eventually I confided in him about some troubles that I was having. At the end of my senior year, he and his wife offered to go with them to Catskills for the summer to the country zendo connected with New York Zendo. I thought, “No way can I go. I just can’t go. This is my life here, you know, with all its troubles and drugs and all those things, and I just can’t leave it behind.”
After some encouragement from a peer, the day after graduation, Mr. Nordstrom and his wife picked me up in their VW bug and we were on our way to Dai Bosatsu Zendo. I was greeted by the residents of the zendo, all with arms open. The joy I felt at finding this sangha was transforming. I’d never worked in a garden before; I had never made bread. Before I knew it, I was one of the regular bread bakers and the assistant cook. We practiced early mornings and every evening. We were building a Japanese style monastery on the property so there was a lot of promise in the air, promise of a lifelong place of practice. Our sangha was strong and full of care, and we were all committed to this path. We were a Rinzai sect which involved rigorous practice with no movement allowed. We wore only subdued colors and eventually we were banned from going to town on our day off.
A foundation was laid, a kernel of truth carried me as we were all split apart by the news that a leader was having multiple affairs with his students. There was deep loss at this time. I specifically remember the moment, the street I was on, when months later I realized the most important thing could not be taken. We always had our practice. No one could take this away. Ever.
It seemed I then zig-zagged to many apartments and numerous dharma centers, always grateful I had found another place to practice zazen.
I found Shao Shan Temple while living in Maple Corners and participating in the Tuesday evening book group in Shao Shan’s kitchen. I left when a move took me to Montpelier, commuting to Burlington, finding home at Montpelier’s Shambhala Center close by. Taihaku had given me her full blessing. I became a meditation instructor and took many programs though ultimately all I wanted was to practice.
At the same time Covid hit, yet another teacher connected to Shambhala was found to be having multiple affairs. Where could I feel safe?
Soon I discovered Shao Shan was doing sitting practice online. I felt connected, it worked! I returned to Shao Shan with gratitude and continued to participate regularly. The opportunities at Shao Shan have supported my practice to deepen.
This July, I formally received the precepts in a Jukai ceremony, welcoming my true nature.
Welcome Home Teijin!
