Girls Gone Zen

It’s been more than a year since I have blogged on the Girls Gone Zen site. In the midst of the craziness of life, I can never ignore the longing feeling I crave inside for that spiritual peace.

I was up in San Francisco this past weekend. Before I got up there, my entire month before went by like a complete blur. I woke up early each morning, leaving my house around 7 or 8 to either go to work or on the weekends to appointments and I would not make it back home until 11pm, only to go to sleep and wake up the next morning to repeat the same pattern. The week before going up, I had three finals, went to work each day, and had a project to do for a non-profit I was helping. On that Friday, I made it into work, came home, packed, and was off to Sf. How I survived that week is unbeknown to me. Prior to going up, I thought about going to the San Francisco Zen Center and looked up who the speaker was going to be. Unfortunately, it was not Blanche and I knew I couldn’t make it to the center anyways.

Being in the city, of course, made me realize how much I missed it and left me wondering how I was even able to leave it. I was reminded of the good times that I left behind…of driving around in the city, of my knowing all of the streets like the back of my hand, of walking around in the city during lunch hour dressed like a professional and feeling like I was on top of the world. Then I think of myself and how much innocence I lost since the first day I set foot in Berkeley until the day I left San Francisco. I think of the me I was back then and all of the different renditions of myself as I grew up in the city. At times, I was emotionally tested and yet at times, I was confident and was on top of the world.

For a long period, I lost that confidence and could not get it back. Sometimes I catch myself feeling really jaded about a lot of the things that happened, even though I enjoyed every minute of my experiences in SF. As I was sitting in the airplane, I came up with a list of things I needed to work on and on that list was to lose that jaded feeling. It’s not going to be easy but I will find that confident self again and I will satisfy that spiritual longing that I am forever seeking.

Blanche re-told the story of the first day she sat in a lecture with Suzuki Roshi. He said, “you are perfect, just as you are.” The concept sounds nice - but how does come to such a peaceful relationship with the self? By knowing yourself, studying yourself, and recognizing patterns in your thinking. We are creatures of habit - and the wheels of ill-feelings will turn in the direction of the beast that pulls it. It will gain momentum and become harder and harder to stop or change course.

I remembered the times when I seethed with anger - so much that a little part of me knew any thing said by my poor boyfriend would only add to the thirst to feed the fire.

“Next time,” she says, “if you see something in yourself that leads to a negative spiral… tell yourself, ‘I am not getting on that train. I know where it goes and it’s not where I want to be’”

***
This weekend I flew back to Berkeley (again) and, this time, made it a point to go to the San Francisco Zen Center. Although I haven’t really befriended anybody at the Zen Center, for some reason when ever I go, there is an openness that is beyond warmth and friendliness. I can enter through one door, sit and meditate, and whisk away through another door without feeling any awkwardness or pressure to exchange conversation. A lightness fills the place.

At one moment, however, I sorely missed the presence of Anny sitting next to me. It was when Blanche entered the lecture hall.

When I started getting into Buddhism, I knew it was a bit hokey to some of my friends - a mix of bewilderment, suspicion, and tentative respect reflected in their eyes. Is she okay? Is she suffering from pain or depression? Isn’t this what *old* hippies do? On the contrary, when I started studying Buddhism, I had the best time of my life. The only person who shared fully in that experience with me was Anny.

So this weekend, when Blanche entered the lecture room, I tried to remember her words so I can say it again for my old rooomie.

On Friday, I drove over the San Francisco Bay Bridge at the height of dusk. The SF skyline was an impending bluish-gray night sitting on top of a deep vanilla-orange horizon. Cranes by the industrial shoreline rested their dark silhouettes against the rich velvety hues. In the car I played my favorite songs from last year - “Sway”, “Middle of Nowhere”, “Misread”, “Cayman Islands”. In that moment, amidst SF Friday evening traffic, I caught a glimpse of myself again. Oh how I missed it all. I promised I would write this all down so it could be remembered and cherished - words that would tell that on this day I was at peace. Words that might help me take a little of this warmth back with me to New York.

In the last few months as a New Yorker, I had let my core chip away piece by piece. Caught up in a terrible work situation, business school applications, and expectations of a relationship, I faltered and broke down again and again. I was upset at the situation, disappointed at myself, and most of all horrified at how little time it took to destroy my self-confidence. I am humbled by my own apparent weakness. Wrapped up in wants and desires to succeed in life and love… was I wrongly participating in the perpetual cycle of pain?

My last business school interview is coming up in two weeks; the last domino in a chain of events. Let the healing begin, then.

Look at this photograph…everytime I do it makes me laugh…every memory of looking out the back door…I have a photo album spread out on my bedroom floor…It’s hard to say, time to say it…goodbye, goodbye…I miss that town…I miss the faces…you can’t erase it…you can’t replace it…I miss it now…I can’t believe it…so hard to stay…so hard to leave it…if I could I relive those days…I know the one thing that would never change…Nickelback “Photographs”

My windows screensaver is the picture slideshow, so whenever I don’t use my computer for 15 minutes, the screensaver automatically starts to display the myriad of pictures from my computer. When I look at those photographs, my original thought is of course I miss the good ol’ days and a smile always appears on my face because the memory of the good times from that picture brings good emotions. I treasure those memories.

What is not so pleasing is, first and foremost, seeing how much weight I gained since some of those pictures. Then, it is realizing how much I have grown up since. I don’t really know the me that I see in those pictures anymore. This is a good and a bad thing…good b/c I know I am not as naive as I used to be in those pictures…and bad b/c my innocence has been long gone…Finally, the photographs remind me of the days when all my friends lived in our safe haven, the Bay Area…we can’t turn back time so the photographs will just be a way to reminisce about the past and will be a constant reminder to treasure each moment b/c as each moment passes, they will become memories, some of which are captured in the photograph…

What makes William Hung so endearing? Nevermind what he is like now. Back when he was singing She Bangs for the very first time in the American Idol audition, I distinctly remember cringing for the Asian male population as he “stung like a bee” in front of the public, and then miraculously regained all respect plus more with the statement, “I already gave my best, and I have no regrets at all.”

Marc Lesser, author of ZBA: Zen of Business Administration, is a business coaching entrepreneur affiliated with the SFZC. I sat in one of his lectures to hear this recount of an improv class he once took:

The [improv] teacher lined us up against the wall and placed an empty water bottle in the middle of the room, about 10-15 feet away from us. He told us to carefully estimate the distance of the water bottle from the wall. Then, one by one, he had each of us blindfolded and walk towards the water bottle. When we think we are in front of the water bottle, the instruction is to grab at the bottle as if you can see it.

So each person went. And each tried to grab at the bottle. Most people caught nothing but air. One or two touched the bottle. But the most important thing that happened was - it was those who swooped down with the grandest gestures, and acted like the bottle was REALLY there - those are the ones who got the applause of the room, even if they weren’t any where close to the bottle.

I remind myself of this whenever I decide to do something new - moving to a new city, working a new job, loving some one. I ask myself to do it with the right attitude, the passion and the resolve. This way, I, too, can say, “I already gave my best, and I have no regrets at all.”

“How many people here have spiritual friends?”, asked the man sitting in front of the Buddha hall, dressed in a robe so bright, yellow, and screaming of NOT Soto Zen tradition. With a simple and powerful question, he stirred in me an elation and my wandering mind stood still.

Immediately I thought of 99, of Jennifer, and of the other handful of friends with whom I have had sincere discussions on Zen & Life and all that fuzzy stuff. On desires, expectations, afflictive emotions, and most of all… on how to be happy. It struck me how fortunate I am to have company in starting on this path, without which I’d probably lose motivation and courage, and probably wouldn’t be sitting in this lecture on a Saturday morning. Having them, my peers, kept the practice..well, practical, realistic, and do-able. I didn’t have to feel like a freak (or are we all freaks? ;)), or ridiculously pathetic for searching for meaning, trying to find a sustainable mental way to live. It’s good not to be alone.

But make no mistake, me and my spiritual friends have not always been Perfect to each other. Some times we neglect each other and don’t talk for a long time. Some times there are misunderstandings and expectations that don’t match up. And it’s chewed me up inside before, unable to comprehend why this would happen to somebody who is suppose to know me. What happened to the good times?

The monk in the yellow robe said, “A lot of people, when they start sitting & meditating, they think, ‘wow, this is GREAT. I am going to do this all the time and become enlightened!’” He calls it the Honeymoon period of Zen- a period of euphoria and unparalleled enthusiasm. That is, until the novelty wears off and you find yourself sitting for hours and even days in the middle of no where… and you tire of it. You can’t seem to find that same blissfulness. You can’t help but wonder, where has it gone?

And so it goes with anything in life, ANYTHING, not just Zen practice. I know so well the rush of getting close to a new friend, meeting a new love, or having that spiritual conversation with some one for the very first time. It’s all oh-so-promising and, honestly, perfectly fine to enjoy to the fullest. But, also accept that things cannot always be picture perfect. You rub shoulders with each other long enough, friction is bound to happen. That is the true test and a wonderful dose of reality. I say wonderful because when the road blocks sit squarely on our paths, and I still want to dig through the crap, I know for certain that love is here to stay.

To my spiritual friends, I miss you!

Last weekend I was lucky enough to catch Abbess Blanche Hartman’s lecture at the San Francisco Zen Center. She is Anny’s favorite teacher (mine is Paul Hellar… not that we should play favorites or anything ). An awesome lecturer she is… always able to keep things down to earth and hit close to the heart.

One of her favorite stories to tell is when she attended her first lecture with Suzuki Roshi, the founder of SFZC. Like many others who started their journey in Zen, she was at a point in life full of confusion and self-doubt. Suzuki Roshi started the lecture by saying,

“You are perfect just as you are.”

“Surely he can’t be saying this to me, since he doesn’t even know me!” She cackled during the lecture.

It stirred some notion in me that is often forgotten but so crucial and fundamental - to believe in the self - despite mistakes, pains, jealousies, and ignorance in the past. Ironically, taking up this idea suddenly makes expressing and improving the self so much easier and palatable!

Impermanence
n : the property of not existing for indefinitely long durations

Lately, random thoughts and memories of the past have entered my head. I was watching Cats and for some odd reason, I was thinking about my cruise to the Caribbean with my mom five years ago. Of course, I only remember certain moments of that trip and can’t remember it in its entirety. Then I think people come in and out of our lives so fast. We don’t know who will enter and leave. In 2005 and coming into 2006 and even before, we’ve definitely experienced this but more apparently in 2005. Last Saturday, I posted my bed to give away on Craigslist. I got a huge alarming amount of responses. On Sunday, someone came to pick up my bed. One minute I had a bed, the next minute I am sleeping on the floor with my sleeping bag and I’ve already forgotten what it feels like to be sleeping on a bed. My bed, which I will not see again, is only committed to memory now. Everything in past committed to memories now. We can try to remember each moment in time but we won’t be able to. We might remember some events and even when we do, we’ll remember bits and pieces.

At first glance, this feels scary because my life and time are passing by right before my eyes and I have no control of it.

But then, I start becoming nonchalant about each tiny event that happens to me thinking, “Oh, it’s going to pass anyways, so who cares…I’m not going to let this event affect my mood and emotions so I don’t really care.”

Finally, I realized that the nonchalant attitude is not the way to go either. It is good to not to be affected by each moment, (not to be unhappy, angry, disappointed) but at the same time, it is not good to be nonchalant (which is the opposite of being affected).

Basically, you have to conquer both sides of the extreme, to not be affected and to not be nonchalant. (Non-duality) You can conquer both with a certain cliché.

The cliché comes in handy: “Live each moment and treasure each moment as if it was your last…” You know what? Each moment in time is your last. Each moment in time will come to an end. Each moment in time is special. There are no two moments in time that are the same and thus it is always your last. Don’t let a particular moment in time affect your mood because it will come to an end so be less quick to anger or be sad or be scared, and at the same time, don’t be nonchalant because that moment in time only happens once and is special in every shape and form so treasure it.

You know, all of this comes at a time when I know I am leaving SF in 5 weeks. Last week’s lecture at the Zen Center was about living life to the fullest knowing that your life will eventually end. It can be applied to living life to the fullest knowing that your residency of 9 years at a place is about to end and applied to any moment in time.

I know that I have definitely taken all the adventures, fun, laughter, tears, events, situations, friends in the past 9 years for granted. I’ve had the time of my life and now all of it is engrained in memories, which 1 year, 5 years from now will randomly enter my head.

I do have 5 weeks left and I know I will make the most of it. The past few weeks have already been a blast and I am looking forward to each moment in the future. I am also grateful and treasure this current moment as I am writing this entry.

This past Saturday (3/11) lecture at the Zen Center was given by Blanche Hartman. It was about living the life we want to live knowing that someday we are going to die.

She stated that the moment we are born, we are basically given the “terminal” diagnosis. We just don’t know when it will happen or what will happen to us when it happens. Nobody knows. She gave the parable of a person going up to a Zen Master asking, “What happens to us when we die?” The Zen master responds, “I don’t know.” The person asks, “How come you don’t know? Aren’t you a Zen Master?” The Zen Master says, “I am a Zen Master, but not a dead one.”

People don’t start thinking about death until someone close passes away. She told us about her best friend and how her friend was having headaches and ended up having a tumor and then passed away very soon after. Blanche was devasted when it happened.

She said that oftentimes we always put things off that we want to do and don’t realize how precious our lives are until it’s too late or until some tragic event occurs. She had a heart attack in 1989 and realized that life was precious…but she went on saying that her life was also precious prior to her heart attack but she didn’t realize it until after.

Of course, she told us to be awake in every moment of our life and to meditate and find out what is in our minds that is keeping us from living the life we want to live. She read a lot of inspirational poems and quotes to us.

Her lecture reminded me a lot of “The Dash”. When I got home, I emailed the poem to Blanche and she responded back saying that she came across that same poem some years back but lost it so is glad to have a copy of it again. Here is the poem:

The Dash - By Linda Ellis

I read of a reverend who stood to speak
at the funeral of a friend.
He referred to the dates on her tombstone
from the beginning…to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth
and spoke of the following date with tears,
but he said what mattered most of all
was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time
that spent alive on earth
and now only those who loved her
know what that little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own,
the cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard,
are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left.
(You could be at “dash mid-range.”)

If we could just slow down enough
to consider what’s true and real
and always try to understand
the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
and show appreciation more
and love the people in our lives
like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
and more often wear a smile…
remembering that this special dash
might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy’s being read
with your life’s actions to rehash,
would you be proud of the things they say
about how you spend your dash?

I have a confession. It’s been a while since I attended the Zen Center, did Zazen, or read up on Zen. That, and I copied Scarlett Johanssen’s haircut in Lost in Translation. In the back of my head I have been embarrassed by my lack of practice in the Zen matter - it seems to denote a lack of determination & persistence. What have I been doing? I’ve been freewheeling off a slippery slope and living my 27 to the fullest since New Years (this is a vague implication of ‘I partied & indulged my lil’ heart out’), all the while ignoring a splinter in my head, sending tingly sensations that I’ve been a bad girl.

It’s interesting how ill-feelings accumulate so imperceptibly through time. At first, I thought I was expressing myself to the fullest, living without regrets. Then day-by-day I started losing my identity. I didn’t know outward expression and inward introspection can be in opposition if not balanced. At some point, I started being scared of meditation because there’s just TOO MUCH to think about, I was scared of touching those thoughts. I felt I could never go through that big pile, and I didn’t want to face what was rotting in there. In effect, I’ve paralyzed myself with too much self-expectation. Today I realized, the splinter only existed in my head… An illusion, it is.

I’m putting in a new illusion now. The story goes, I’ve stopped on the way, took a dive in the pool & enjoyed the waterfall off the side of the road. The views were spectacular- something to be treasured forever, like drinking Whisky from a Camel Backpack and watching Lake Tahoe from the top of a snowy mountain. And now off I go again, continuing down the slopes… ripping it up.

Thanks, Anny. Thanks, Perry. It’s good to have buddies.