I have to admit that the first time I went to the zen center it was an attempt to meet cute guys. A cute guy worked at the zen-center-stall at the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market. I tried everything I could to extend our interaction beyond the brief “That'll be three-fifty,” but it didn't work. So, I decided to go to the source. If this guy was clever, engaging, and sweet, wouldn't all the guys at the zen center be like that? I went to the Saturday intro to meditation thing and there were cute guys there but there wasn't any opportunity to talk to them. I went to the dharma talk after the instruction and all the guys there were with their girlfriends. There might have been cute guys at the zen center but there was no way to meet them (and, it felt a little wrong to use a temple as a place to pick up guys...)
The second time I went to the zen center was when I first returned to teaching after a two- year hiatus. It seemed like a cool thing to do and I felt like it fit me: I was pretty even keeled and happy and mellow in general. But that year's teaching was really difficult for me. The second graders in my class experienced stress in their lives and they took it out on each other and on me. I started the year calmly responding to them and maintaining a classroom of respect and safety. But by December, I had changed. I started reacting to them instead of responding to them. I yelled at them, used my power to control them, and grasped at anything I could to contain their emotional outbursts. In my desperation to control the situation, I just spent more time at school and less time taking care of myself. So, I stopped going to the zen center.
The third time I went to the zen center it was to find community. I didn't know that at the time, but it was what I really wanted. I went, because I was trying to follow my best friend's advice. Guess what her advice was: go to church. Ugh...I totally wanted to do what she said but I had way too much history with church to set foot in one (see z2 if you want to know more).
Now, it just so happened that this same summer I had gone to church. I was visiting relatives and church is where you go after breakfast on Sundays. But this time when I went, I went as an observer: what was this thing that was so important to my friend and relatives? This is what I saw: good friends hugging my cousins and asking how they were, kids playing with each other, and a priest shaking hands with everyone as they left. This is what I heard: updates on efforts to help a sister church in Central America, a call for volunteers for the local food bank, and a sermon that offered advice on balancing the conflicting needs of making enough money to support your family and actually having time to spend with your family. “Now I get it!” I thought. Of course people love church: it's a bunch of people getting together to share in each others' lives, to help their community, and to get advice about how to live through this funky thing we call life.
I came home and thought about going to church, but it felt like it didn't fit for me. I was pretty sure that I could go and meet people; people with whom I could hang out and share my ideas. But I also felt like if I didn't agree with the bigger structure, eventually, that would cause a problem.
So, I talked with another friend about going to church. She said that “church” was a lot of things: the actual church that I grew up in, the institution of church, religion, spirituality, community, etc. We talked about the zen center as a place where I could find community without feeling like I had to “buy in” to some greater belief system or religion. So, I decided to go to the Saturday intro to meditation thing.
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