Stories from Rev. Taihaku’s Life
As remembered by Rev. Kenzan Seidenberg
Over the years, sometimes in the morning over tea or in the evening
near the woodstove, Taihaku would often tell stories of her life, fantastic
tales that would leave me amazed - yet another story of incredible experiences
that I had not heard before! Alas, my
memory and my storytelling abilities are both not so good and I cannot do
justice to the telling of her amazing life.
Just now as I sat in the temple side room at her altar, lamenting to her,
“Taihaku! How can I tell of your life when I’ve forgotten so much of it?” I
could hear her reply, “Well, make it a good story!” Rather than try to create a
chronological narrative, here are some small snippets, little tea stories, episodes
in her life that she shared with me.
These are some of the ones I heard often and some of you may have heard
some of them, too.
She loved to tell of her childhood in Marblehead,
Massachusetts, especially of sailing on the bay, her full immersion in the
elements of wild wind and water. When
she was eight, she was given a sailboat that her father named “Have Fun.” This
“Have Fun” was a perspective that she brought to most everything she did. So often, over the years, as we were doing
various chores around the temple, polyurathaning the window sills, or stacking
wood, or fixing the garden fence, she would exclaim, full of enthusiasm, “This
is so fun!”
It was family tradition to have a special individual trip
when a child turned 12 years old. Just
before Taihaku’s age 12 camping trip was to happen, her father died suddenly of
a heart attack at a company banquet. He
was 48 years old. He was just gone. In her family he was not spoken of anymore;
his things were all removed. It became
her burning question: where did her father who she loved so much go, and how
could she go there too? One day in
biology class, she had a sudden intense experience of oneness and with that
experience, the question of where her father went was simply no longer a
question. And the question became, “What
was that?”
Immediately after high school she
headed up to Vermont and then, in the fall, started at Goddard College. While at Goddard, she heard of the Wawasiki
Ashram where Nina lived. Nina was a disciple
of Kirpal Singh, Sant Mat path. One time
when a group was about to head out to the Ashram and they asked her if she
wanted to go, she said, “I don’t know…” and one of the others replied, “Yeah, I
know what you mean, it’s kind of like going to see Jesus.” At that she decided
emphatically, “Yes, I’m going!” Soon she left Goddard and went to live with
Nina at the Ashram. She said one of her
primary jobs at the beginning was to wash rocks. Taihaku often marveled at how fortunate she was,
that in the ‘60s, she lived in a place that was so pure. She said they had to keep a spreadsheet marking
down each day where they had transgressed the precepts in thought, word, or
deed. Within this community of “silence, serenity, and
seclusion,” the primary practice was silent mantra chanting. They
maintained a strict macrobiotic diet and when too many people would start to be
living there, they would stop having raisins and bananas and the less committed
people would leave.
After living this secluded life at the Ashram for six years,
one day a young man she knew slightly from Goddard College sent a letter,
asking her to marry him and go to Japan to study Buddhism (package deal). It sounded like an adventure, so she said
yes. The marriage was in San Francisco
and performed by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, the last wedding he ever performed. He gave them an incense bowl with ashes in it.
These are the ashes that are still on
the Shao Shan Temple main altar. (When
we say, “These are Suzuki Roshi’s ashes,” that’s what we mean.) As he sent them to Japan he also said, “One
day you’ll have a Zen Center in Vermont.”
At the temple in Japan that Suzuki Roshi sent them to, was a
young monk, Shinkai Tanaka. Several
decades later, this first monk that they encountered in Japan would become Taihaku’s ordination teacher. Another important Zen teacher that Taihaku
met in the early years that she was in Japan was Noiri Hakusan Roshi. She
received lay ordination from him and it is from him that she received the name
“Taihaku,”which included the same “haku” character (meaning “white”) as in his
own name.
There are many adventures that she told about as she
travelled with her husband visiting monasteries and temples in Japan, Thailand,
and other east Asian countries, including spending time at Ajahn Chah’s
monastery.
After they came back to the US, they made their way back to Vermont and started looking for land to buy near the Ashram. They found something, but they weren’t really satisfied with it so they thought, “Let’s just drive around and see what this neighborhood is like.” They turned onto Cranberry Meadow Road and they stopped the car in awe, Jeff looking out one window and Taihaku out the other, and they exclaimed at the same time, “Japan!” Then they noticed a wooden chair seat nailed to a tree and scrawled on it, “FOR SALE.” Taihaku tells that when she stepped out of the car, it was like a lightning bolt shooting up her when her foot touched the ground. They noted the phone number and drove back to Maple Corner to phone and were told that the “For Sale” sign had only been put up a couple of hours ago. They bought the land. Taihaku tells that she named the land “Shao Shan” immediately, even though it was decades later, after the construction of the temple, when she chose the Chinese/Japanese characters to go with the sound. She tells that when they bought the land, she could just touch the tops of the red pine trees that had been planted as a crop. Many of these now tall, majestic trees still surround the temple.
Taihaku had two children and she often spoke of being a
parent as bodhisattva practice. She
delighted in a close-to-nature hard work life as the children were growing up: hauling
buckets of snow to melt on the stove in order to wash the diapers, keeping the
chipmunks from stealing the food off the baby’s plate. Later, when they went back to Japan now with
two young children, she made friends with the elderly women in the village. They taught her how to make tofu and she worked
alongside them in the rice fields.
Again back in the US, at a time of escalating world
conflict, it became a burning question: “What can we do to bring peace in the
world?” Around this time Taihaku heard about “Peace Walks.” These were long distance
walks with drumming and chanting “Namu Myo Ho Ren Ge Kyo” for world peace. She told of walking from Montreal to New York
City, pulling her two young children in a wagon. During these walks she met a Nipponzan
Myohoji monk, Ishibashi Shonin (“Oshonin-san”), who became an important friend
in her life.
In the year 2000, there was the Opening Ceremony for Shao
Shan Temple. Shinkai Tanaka Roshi came
from Japan, there were taiko drummers, and over 100 family, friends, neighbors
and monks in attendance. When Tanaka
Roshi (“Dochosan,” her teacher) was giving a talk, Taihaku translated into English. The local newspaper reported that she ably
translated his talk, only stumbling at one point. That one point was where Dochosan said that
he was taking Taihaku back to Japan the very next day for training, which was
news to her. So, unexpectedly, the day
after the big Opening Ceremony, she worked to close up the temple in order to
fly to Japan to begin her monastic training at Hokyoji in Fukui Prefecture,
Japan.
May we also.
Thank you, Taihaku-san.
Watch for more stories in future issues of
the newsletter.
