Seeing yourself

This post is old. I wrote it in the fall, shortly before school started up again.

I wanted to be tanto.
(Tanto is head of practice, head of students, available to all the students whenever they need it and for whatever they need).
It was true, it was what I felt, and it was what I had said to myself when I first came to a dharma talk given by Blanche: "I could be her someday." Not so much because I was like Blanche or because she was tanto, (she wasn't at the time), but that I could see myself, sitting there, on that box, talking.

But I was uncomfortable with the idea of myself being tanto.
For me, being tanto meant that I would live at the zen center. It meant that I would be a zen priest. It meant that I would be a monk. It meant that I would no longer be an elementary school teacher. It meant that I would no longer have my monthly income. It meant that I would no longer have my lovely apartment where I could cook whatever I wanted. It meant giving up all the normalcy I had in my life and becoming something that I had all kinds of stories about- unpleasant stories, fearful stories, stories in which I did not want to be the main character.
But still, I knew that I actually wanted to be tanto, so I was kind of stuck. I couldn't deny what I wanted, but it wasn't what I actually wanted.

At first, I was kind of okay with it because when I saw myself as tanto, I pictured myself being it when I was much older. I saw myself as a 60 year old woman being tanto, and that felt okay. I felt like I could retire into being tanto- that being a zen priest would be a second career for me, that I would do it after I retired and so moving in there wouldn't be giving up my life or income or anything- it would just be like volunteering or having a second career. I could do it as long as I was financially stable and had finished my career as a teacher. It would be cool and acceptable to retire into a zen monastery- I might even be respected and revered for it. So I was okay with my feelings about it because I thought they were feelings that I could act on later, when it was convenient for me and when I didn't have to choose between them and my current self.

But then, those feelings of wanting to be tanto kept coming up for me: in zazen, in my fantasies, in my imaginary conversations. Usually, when things come up for me, it's because I'm not seeing them. So I knew that if I wanted them to go away, I had to see, and accept, that I wanted to be tanto at the zen center.
Meanwhile, I was also noticing how happy I was when I was doing things at the zen center. I noticed how much I liked helping new people when I was doorwatch. I noticed how often I would learn things in class and immediately want to write about them on the blog so that others could understand them too. I also noticed that when I was in the "audience" at events and people would ask questions, I would want to answer them. I found that what I really wanted was to be the person on stage, not the person in the audience.
"Darnit!" I thought. "This is who I am. This is who I want to be. I can't really wait until I'm 60. This is who I am now."
And that freaked me out. How could who I want, not be who I want? How could who I am not be under my control? How could this persistent assertion of myself be something I hadn't chosen? It didn't make sense and the power of it frightened me.
In the past, I had chosen my career path based on what made me happy: kids. I had made choices about where I taught, what kind of schools I would teach in, what my role would be, all based on what I thought was best for me. It had all been under my command but this, this had nothing to do with me. It had nothing to do with my interests or my career choices or what was best for me. I didn't understand how my self could be at odds with my self.  And yet, it had this volition, this power, this thing I had to listen to. I knew I had no choice but to listen to it but I was terrified of how it sounded. I was also terrified that if I did listen to it, I would have no choice in the matter, I actually would have to be tanto: give up teaching, move into the zen center, leave behind my income and retirement....

First, I went to my teacher. I told him how uncomfortable I was about all this. I told him about how happy it made me to be of service at the zen center but I also explained to him that the more natural it felt to do this, the more it felt like it was really me, the more uncomfortable it made me.
He said he totally understood and talked with me about different aspects of practice and about our concepts of normalcy. He also told me to trust my own process.
Part of me wanted to say, "Easy for you to say! You trusted your own process and it got you here. If I follow your advice, I'm going to end up here too- and that's not what I want!"
But of course, I didn't say that. Instead, I listened to his advice and saw that this really was my own process, it wasn't anyone else's. I also saw that on the one hand, I needed to listen to what was coming up for me but on the other hand, it didn't have to be this huge decision. It could come as it came, I could let it unfold and maybe have some say in the matter.

Next, I talked to my therapist. She pointed out a bunch of things to me. Teaching in the classroom and teaching at the zen center were both aspects of teaching. It made sense that I would be drawn to the teaching aspect of this practice; me being tanto was me wanting to be a teacher, not necessarily me wanting to be a monk or a priest or all the stories I had tied up into being tanto at the zen center. It actually wasn't all that different from who I already am. This wanting to be tanto wasn't all that at odds with myself at all. I didn't have to choose between the two of them, they were different manifestations of the same desire: to teach.
She also pointed out that in both positions, I am doing a service and getting paid for it. When I teach in the elementary school, I get a paycheck. If I moved in to the zen center, I would be paid in room and board. They are both services, they are both compensated- they are just different ways of teaching and different ways of getting paid.
This made me feel better and worse at the same time. The way she was putting it, becoming tanto was just shifting from teaching third graders to teaching adults. It seemed so easy, so normal, so natural- why wouldn't I want to do that? But then that meant that I should be tanto- that I really should listen to the things that kept coming up for me, that I really should follow this path, and I really didn't want to follow this path.
So then we talked some more and realized that a big part of it was giving up my income and retirement, that that was a big fear for me. And so we considered me not being tanto at the zen center, me just staying teaching third graders. And, surprisingly, it turned out that I actually didn't want that. I didn't want to "only" teach third graders. Something in me actually wanted to teach this, to teach zen practice, to others.
And I think that's when I finally settled- when I finally saw that this is something that I want to do. It's not that I want to move in to the zen center. It's not that I want to be tanto. It's that I want to teach this to others- that's all. I want to teach this to others. How I do that.. is inconsequential. The point is that I want this, that I am happy when I do this, that it brings me ease. The point isn't to come up with ways for me to manifest this self, ways to allow it to be, the point is that I see it, accept it, realize that this is me too.