In some ways, I was lucky that by the time I had committed to meditating every morning, it was late December. I'm pretty sure that my first week of trying to meditate in the zendo coincided with the city center's “interim” period- their formal break from practice that usually occurs after an intense period of practice. This meant that there just weren't a lot of people in the zendo (many residents go home or, if they stay, sleep-in during the first morning meditation because it's not mandatory during interim). My two prior experiences in the zendo (see z13) had made me a bit wary of disturbing the “real monks” so it was nice to be in there and feel like I could sit wherever I wanted, for the most part, and didn't feel as pressured to get everything right.
But then formal practice started up again, the rules were back in place, and I just couldn't seem to get in to the zendo. Here's what happened. I showed up, took a step into the zendo with my left foot, and was blocked by a white hand, attached to a big black rectangle of fabric, attached to... the Ino. I backed up, turned around, and walked toward the coat room. On my way, I saw a bunch of people sitting on cushions in the hallway (the gaitan) leading to the zendo. Hmmm, I thought, maybe I'm supposed to meditate here. So, I bowed to my cushion, bowed away from my cushion, and sat down to meditate. The next morning, I did the exact same thing: showed up at the zendo door, tried to step in with my left foot, and bam! there he was again, blocking my entrance to the zendo! I turned around and sat down in the hallway to meditate but I was done. You didn't have to tell me more than twice. I wasn't sure why I couldn't go in to the zendo but there was no way I was going to go through that again. So, I just started meditating in the gaitan (the hallway).
I stayed in the gaitan for three months. I loved the gaitan. There were no rules in the gaitan. I could show up when I wanted, I could cough, I could pick and choose my seat or my cushion: no one was watching me, and the monks who actually were sitting in the gaitan only sat there for a while, and then they left. It was like my own private zendo, only without any of the rules.
Now, was it being blocked by the Ino, picking the wrong seat, not knowing when to start walking that sent me into the gaitan? Yes it was, no it wasn't.
Was it my own desire to “get things right,” to not disturb others, to be a “good practitioner” that sent me into the gaitan? Yes it was, no it wasn't.
Or was it the allure of the gaitan, its ability to allow me to be separate, to choose when and how to follow the forms, to not yet commit to this practice?
Yes it was, it was all of these things. But looking back on it now I realize that I didn't walk out the door, I stayed in the gaitan, and I think that's important. Also, if you keep reading you'll see that the very same practitioners of whom I was afraid, whom I so wanted to please, ended up inviting me back in to the zendo and helping me to understand why I did belong in there, robed or not.
No comments:
Post a Comment