I realized a few things during interim: #1 It takes a lot of people to run a zendo. #2 The zendo is just one big room in the basement of a building. #3 All the bells, incense, altars, and “skybox” cushions are just that: bells, incense, altars and places to sit. Don’t get me wrong, these items are actually sacred and important and in many ways are not just as I described. But for someone who was intimidated for months by just the thought of going into the zendo, this experience with the actual items in the zendo helped chip away at my delusional perception of it and allow its reality to set in.
At Young Urban Zen on Monday night (the first night of interim), I was asked by one of the residents to be the ‘doan’ at the next morning’s zazen. I said yes because I wanted to help but I was super freaked out at the thought of being the ‘doan.” My friend had described the duties of the doan to me: timing the bell to the bows of the doshi, facing out, watching the clock to make sure you rang the bell at the right time, etc. At the end of YUZ, I ran up to the resident and said, “Okay, so, I should be there at, like, 5 so that you can train me, right? And you’ll show me what to do and everything, right?" He looked at me kind of funny and said, “Well, yeah, I’ll show you what to do but there’s also a sheet that tells you and, well, you just ring the bell three times to start and twice at the end.” I didn’t really believe him, convinced that there was way more to it than that, but agreed to come at 5:10 instead of 5.
I showed up the next morning at 5:10. Before we went into the zendo the resident gave me great instructions on ringing the bell: you put it at an angle and imagine that the stick that you ring it with is like a man running up to hit something with his hand and then running away. We walked into the zendo and he lit the candle with a plain old white matchbook. Then he grabbed a stick of incense and lit it from a regular old candle. He handed me the incense, pointed to the altar, and told me to bow, which I did. I stuck the incense in front of the altar and we walked away. Then he handed me the sheet of instructions and left to go be the doorwatch.
I picked up the bell with one hand and it immediately fell off its little cushion and made a big noise. I put it back on its cushion, grabbed the clock and the bell ringer thing, and sat down. I stared at the clock intensely and at exactly 5:25, ran the little stick toward the bell, hit it, and ran it away. It actually sounded great! Then I did it again, but it was too soft. I did it the third time and it was better. Then I meditated for 20 minutes and checked the clock again. I kept checking it for the last ten minutes and, at exactly 5:54 and 30 seconds, I picked up the bell, counted to 30, and rang it, twice. Then I put everything back in its place and walked out into the gaitan. I checked in with the resident and agreed to be doan for the next two mornings.
The next two mornings were the same: me, the bell, some incense, and a couple of people meditating in the zendo. I got the hang of things and realized that it really didn’t matter whether I rang the bell at 5:55 on the dot or at 5:55 and ten seconds. The importance of lighting the incense was that it be lit enough to keep burning. The point of setting it in the container correctly was so that it burned evenly. It wasn’t about me getting it right in the eyes of the people in robes, it was about setting things up for those two people who had made the effort to sit zazen early in the morning.
On the second morning, the resident asked me to be the doorwatch so that he could get something to eat. On the third day, two people who I had never seen before showed up to help out with the second half of zazen. On the fourth day, a guy I had seen at Thursday night beginner’s zazen showed up to help be the doorwatch.
Having the resident ask me to be doorwatch so that he could get something to eat made me realize that he was doing the work of about four or five people and I wondered if the reason he hadn’t eaten yet was because he had to sleep instead of eating. Seeing all these people who I hadn’t known before show up to help made me realize how many people it takes to do this and how kind it is for them to come to keep things going. Often, the only people in the zendo were the people who showed up to help, but they came anyway, to make sure that the zendo was there, for anyone who did want to meditate.
I guess interim made me appreciate both the normalness of the zendo and the beauty of the people who run it each day. Once interim is over, the zendo will be run by the residents again. They’ll make the same effort we did, only they’ll do it on little sleep, and it’ll be just one of the many jobs they have to do each day. I also think they’ll do it within the context of their practice, with a certain affection and sanctity since this is the place that supports the core of their practice: sitting.
I guess that in the end I realize that the zendo is just a big basement, but that the people who are in it make it a really sweet place, full of commitment to the practice and to each other.
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