What DO you do at the zen center?

In the past, when I thought 'buddhist,' I saw a bald guy in orange robes sitting cross- legged on the floor at the airport. I don't know why I thought this, I don't think I've actually ever seen a bald guy in robes sitting on the floor at the airport, but it's what I thought of, when I thought of a buddhist. And so when people asked me if I was a buddhist, I would say "No. I'm not a buddhist," because I'm not bald, I'm not a man, I'm not wearing orange robes, and I don't hang out at the airport.
Now, I have to admit that part of me knew exactly what a buddhist was because I was surrounded by buddhists every morning when I went to the zendo, every Monday night when I went to YUZ, every Saturday morning when I went the dharma talk, etc. So I acknoweldge that it was completely ridiculous of me to hold on to the whole orange-robed-airport-man thing when I actually know and am really good friends with actual buddhists. And to be honest, if someone asked me if I am a buddhist I would have to say, "Of course I'm a buddhist. I wake up every morning and meditate to free myself from thoughts. I try my very best to think of others and to connect with the greater world around me. I try to meet everyone equally with love and understanding." But in the past, I was still hung up on not being a buddhist. Not because I didn't want to be like the practitioners at the zen center but because I couldn't seem to change my image of what a buddhist was. It's my issue, it's delusional, it blocks me from actually seeing myself, but it was where I was at, and sometimes still am. I just can't seem to consider myself a buddhist.

This not-being-a-buddhist was fine, for a really long time. I think it actually helped me to continue to go the zen center as much as I was. I think that as long as I thought that I wasn't a buddhist, that this wasn't some spiritual or religious thing that it was okay for me to do it, that I wasn't really doing anything, that I was just showing up.
But as I went to the zen center more and more, this got harder and harder. After my last one day sit, in which I actually fantasized about being shuso (that means head monk during a practice period), it became pretty obvious to me that I wasn't just showing up. I was actually going to the zen center of my own volition, that I liked going to the zen center, that I was consciously choosing to do this, that I was actively practicing this... whatever this was. I couldn't really deny it anymore but at the same time, I didn't want it, because I didn't want to be the guy in robes at the airport and I didn't want to be someone who was religious.

I decided to ask my therapist about it, to talk about my relationship with religion in general, about why I had such a hard time with religion or being a part of one. My therapist suggested that part of what was tripping me up about all this was labels: am I a buddhist, am I a student, is this a religion, etc. She suggested trying not to see myself as one thing or to try to fit what I was doing at the zen center into a category, to just accept that it was what it was, it didn't have to be any thing or practice in particular.
So I tried that. I tried to just be whatever it was I was being at the zen center. I told myself to just let it be whatever it was, to do whatever I was doing and not worry so much about it.

But that didn't work either. I found that I really did want to be something at the zen center, I actually did want a label for what I was doing, I wanted to have an identity, to be someone who was doing something at the zen center. I still couldn't be a buddhist, because I still couldn't get over that image of the guy in robes at the airport, but I had to be something. I had to see myself at the zen center if I was going to accept that I went to the zen center, that it was an important part of my life.

So then my therapist and I talked about what I do at the zen center, why I go there as much as I do. We talked about the fact that I go there every morning to meditate and that I wouldn't meditate every morning if I didn't go to the zendo to do it. We talked about the fact that I won't meditate at home and that I have some issues around meditating anywhere other than the zendo or even admitting that I meditate. She pointed out the fact that meditation isn't religion and that many people practice it completely devoid of any faith, spirituality, or organization. Then she talked about the fact that people who run consider themselves runners and asked me if I would consider myself a runner. "Totally," I said. "I'm a runner, a rower, a cyclist, a reader, a baker...Oh," I thought. "I guess I'm a meditator. I'm just meditating, that's all."

But then we talked about how I do more than just meditate at the zen center; that on Saturday mornings, I do service and I do soji and that I do those things intentionally, that bowing and chanting are an intentional part of my practice. She smiled and asked about my intentions in bowing, recalling times that I had shared with her that I was bowing in order to get the forms right.
But I had to correct her on this one. "That's not why I bow anymore. It isn't really about the forms. When I bow, I'm doing it it to time myself with others, to align my movement with the movement of the group. I find that when I actually spend my mornings at the zen center, doing service (bowing and chanting) and soji (temple cleaning), I am less focsued on my self and more focused on others. It's like my focus literally changes during that time at the zen center, from my self to others."
I explained further, "And afterward, it kind of lingers. I am more aware of others as I ride my bike home, I notice the people around me and I notice them as part of me, as part of my community, not as separate, not as others."
"The best way that I can explain it," I went on, "is how I approach the doors at Safeway on Saturdays. You know how sometimes you get to the doors at the same time as someone else? If I have been bowing and chanting with others in the morning, I find that I step back, and let the other person go ahead. But on the mornings that I don't attend service at the zen center, I step forward and push my way in first."

"So you're developing compassion," she said. "That's what you're doing at the zen center. You're practicing compassion: awareness of others, treating others with kindness, seeing them as connected to you."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess that's what I am doing. Learning how to connect with others, seeing that I am connected to others, developing... compassion"

So that's what I'm doing. I'm practicing compassion at the zen center. And so, for now, I'm calling myself a compassionist; because I'm studying compassion, because I'm practicing compassion, and, because I have absolutely no history or image of what a compassionist is, I seem to feel fine actually being one.