Autumn Light. Edwina Norton

       Hamilton Books

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      Library of Congress Control Number: 2020902790

      ISBN: 978-0-7618-7207-8 (cloth : alk. cloth)—ISBN: 978-0-7618-7208-5 (electronic)

       In this life, save the body which is the fruit of many lives.

      Eihei Koso Hotsuganmon Sutra

      Author’s Notes

      Names

      The Buddha taught that all beings are interconnected and interdependent. We influence and are influenced by each other and by every experience we have. So it is that many beings, both intimates and authorities, have made it possible for me these past fifty years to follow the Buddha Way. In this memoir I use the real names of my family members with their permission. I use the Dharma names of my Zen teachers over the years and of friends who had roles in my ordination and Tassajara experiences. I use the real first names of friends from my early years of practice. I use fictional names for the two Tassajara monks with whom I came into conflict during practice period. I refer to the Tassajara practice leaders by their iconic role names—Abbess, Tanto, Director, Lay Entrusted Teacher, Shuso, Tenzo, Ino, and Jisha. Their influence on us monks was almost mythic.

      Bibliographic Citations

      Where possible, I have cited bibliographic sources for the Zen chants and verses I have quoted. However, much of Zen liturgy has been handed down over centuries and modified by different teachers. Where I can provide no definitive bibliographic sources, the chants and verses are those used by the Red Cedar Zen and San Francisco Zen centers.

      Acknowledgments

      I want to thank the many friends who over the years encouraged me in writing this book. One of them, writer Carol Yoon, gave my project an early, needed boost by referring me to writing coach Deb Norton (no relation). Deb introduced me to the “narrative arc” and pointed out the importance to my story of a vivid dream I had at Tassajara. Zen friends Bernadette Prinster read two early drafts and gave me kind and useful advice; and Carrie McCarthy generously offered to proofread the final manuscript. Life-long friend and scholar Ellen Dissanayake suffered through an early, rough draft, yet volunteered to review later versions and encouraged me throughout the writing process. Poet friend Luther Allen’s criticisms made me realize some readers might question my story, so I added more information about Zen practice. For two years, Joan Connell, journalist, author, editor, and professor, guided me in organizing and polishing the manuscript. Her patience, knowledge, and encouragement were invaluable.

      I also thank the Tassajara Zen practice period leaders, who gave me feedback on the manuscript sections pertinent to them. They appear in my story mostly in conversations with me or in dharma talks to the community. Although I use the convention of quote marks for these conversations, the leaders’ words are not verbatim. Instead they are paraphrases based on the journal notes I kept during practice period. (As a kinesthetic learner, my habit is to write down what I am learning, to better understand and remember it.) All the leaders accepted my renderings of their presentations. My deep thanks go as well to former San Francisco Zen Center abbots Tenshin Reb Anderson and Zoketsu Norman Fischer for verifying my accounts of their teachings. Special thanks also to Red Cedar Zen Community guiding teacher, Nomon Tim Burnett, for ordaining me as a priest, for his resolve that I practice at Tassajara, and for reading my manuscript twice.

      Finally, I am grateful to my sons, Alec and Dan, for their support of this project. They were intimately affected by what led me to Zen and what it has meant for my life. Without their kind permission, I would not have published this memoir. Lastly, I want to emphasize that this book is the story of my experiences and understanding of Zen Buddhism and Tassajara’s practice period, not an authoritative or scholarly work. I extend to the reader the traditional apology the Head Student makes to the Zen assembly after answering their tough questions during the Dharma Inquiry Ceremony: “Friends, if my actions and words have misled you, please wash out your ears in the Dharma’s pure harmonious silence. . . .”

      Introduction

      The Red Cedar Zen Community zendo in Bellingham, Washington is softly lit and unadorned. A small wooden altar at the front holds a gray, stone Buddha, a glass vase of fresh flowers, an incense bowl, and a large, flickering candle. On the bamboo floor, neat rows of square, black mats with round, black cushions placed on top announce that this is a place of order, serenity, and safety. The soothing light and silence invite us to be gentle with ourselves and each other. Entering, we select a place to sit and do a small standing bow to it before sitting down along with twenty-five other Zen students. A roughly equal number of men and women attend on Wednesday evenings, Red Cedar’s primary weekly meeting time. Our ages range from early twenties into the eighties.

      We sit cross-legged on a cushion or kneel on a bench or, with physical limitations, sit on a folding chair. We extend our spines to open our chests so we can breathe easily. We place our hands in the traditional Zen oval mudra against our lower abdomen, left hand in the palm of the right hand, thumb tips lightly touching. We take a few deep breaths and gaze softly toward the bamboo floor or the plain wall in front of us. The Zen tradition of facing the wall, not each other, reduces distractions, for we keep our eyes softly open in order to be awake to our surroundings. In this way zazen expresses our Bodhisattva vow to be available to help all beings.

      The basic instruction for how to practice Zen is to “Just Sit” and observe what happens in the mind and body. No visualization, no mantra to recite. Just sit quietly and focus on the present moment. Eihei Dogen Zenji, the thirteenth-century Japanese founder of the Soto Zen tradition, the practice I follow, claimed that zazen is not the process of learning to meditate so one can become enlightened. It is the very act of being enlightened. That is, sitting zazen itself expresses enlightenment. This concept has profound implications, but it also can be read literally: Sitting in zazen opens (enlightens) the mind to a deep and broad awareness of reality.

      In zazen, focusing on the breath helps calm the mind. Counting each exhale or inhale up to ten helps to focus the mind. Usually well before one reaches ten, one realizes the mind is thinking—about a difficult interaction earlier that day, an upcoming event, or a persistent worry. Students new to Zen are often surprised at how active their minds are (Monkey Mind) and even dismayed to discover how difficult it is to quiet down. This experience is natural. It is rare in ordinary life that we take time to sit still and observe the mind as we do in zazen. If one persists in sitting zazen, repeatedly letting go of thoughts as they come up, in time the mind calms down. Eventually most Zen students find their way to an alert but quiet mind.

      It