Gatherings

At the beginning of this year, my students expressed an interest in doing more retreats. Of course we had the wonderful long weekend this summer up in Humboldt, but my last adventure of the year started germinating when I met Nyoze Kwong, the new abbot at Sonoma Mountain Zen Center, at Jiryu’s Mountain Seat Ceremony at Green Gulch in the spring. He remembered that I had ridden to the temple when we brought a large Young Urban Zen group there in 2014. It occurred to me that it would be a great place for my group to go.

I chose last weekend because Jakusho Kwong, the founding teacher of the center, was giving the dharma talk; as he was one of Suzuki Roshi’s priests, I thought it would be a great opportunity for them to have such a close link to Suzuki Roshi.

The only member of my group who had come in 2014 wasn’t able to attend as his wife is eight months pregnant; another was in Tokyo, and a third was attending a Genzo-e with Shohaku, so it was a small group that was going up. For a while it seemed that we would all get there on our bikes – though I had decided to get help from the Larkspur ferry and the SMART train along the way this time. In the end, the person who was driving up from the East Bay to Larkspur neglected to put his bike on his car, but he was kind enough to take my bag – with my robes and bowls – when we met up.

I was amazed that, having only taken the road twice ten years ago – once to visit ahead of the weekend, by car, and then on my bike – the road from the valley seemed so familiar. Except for the last stretch of uphill, which I had not remembered, and which I found tiring. But after a good shower I was ready for dinner.

There were only two residents, plus some visitors who were staying, and the priest who cooked us dinner also offered the oryoki instruction after dinner. A couple of the group had never done oryoki, and another had only eaten a few times. Since I had not opened my bowls since before the pandemic, I sat in as well, though once we got going, my body memory kicked in again and all the moves felt very familiar.

We just had time to turn around for evening zazen – there were two periods that night, and two in the morning before service and breakfast. I had that slight wariness of being in an unfamiliar zendo where I don’t know the particular forms. But it was also wonderfully relaxing to be able to sit on the cushion and not have to worry about anything until the bell rang – there are few sessions I sit these days where I am not leading. Additionally, the zendo was unbelievably quiet. No traffic, no running water nearby, not a breath of wind, just the breath.

The peacefulness was there in the morning sits as well. For the chanting, while the chants themselves were the same as we would do at Zen Center, the translations, and those of the dedications as well, were different, so I had a feeling of freshness from them. Oryoki went well, with just a couple of wrapping issues for the debutants. And we had some work time, a short turnaround to the next sitting, and straight into the talk. Kwong Roshi started with the Thirty Verses of Vasubandhu, but went off in other directions as well, with a gentle manner and a beaming smile, just encouraging us to keep sitting and to keep practising.

After lunch we had time to walk around the grounds, which I also remembered quite clearly, with the Trungpa stupa and the Suzuki Roshi Memorial a little further through the trees. We reflected on the visit – it was more sitting than I had done in a while, and more than at least one person had ever done in that time frame. Then we rode down the hill and waited in the warm sun for the train, and took the ferry as the sun set over the Golden Gate.

Last week was APEC week in San Francisco; the delegates brought the rain with them, though it held off more than it was forecast to. I had a crazy ride back from the ferry on Tuesday evening: after watching a gorgeous sunset from the deck, there were crowds in the middle of Market Street for several blocks, taking pictures of the giant laser projection. Then crowds of Falun Gong demonstrators in yellow on a number of street corners. Then a long line of buses and streetcars. It turned out the demonstration for Palestine at the Powell Street cable car turnaround had spilled out onto the street, so the police were directing the many cyclists into the oncoming lanes, around all the buses that couldn’t move for the crowds…

Finally, on Friday afternoon the heavens opened – right before a roam to Land’s End. A number of people who had checked the forecast canceled, but after the first downpour, we had a dry hour with amazing colours out to the ocean, before the rain came on the way back to the starting point. Riding home, I got completely drenched, but I was glad to have got out to spend the time in such a lovely spot.