Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

I was pretty happy with how the evening at the SF Dharma Collective went; I had visited the group to hear friends speak at their previous location, but had not been to their new space, which was quite lovely and relaxing. The people were most welcoming, and I reconnected with a couple of people I had met through Zen Center over the years. 

I didn’t prepare much material – I knew what I wanted to cover, about zazen, Suzuki Roshi and his connection to Dogen, and how practice has shaped me over the years, most of which I got to articulate over the ninety minutes; the group asked a number of interesting questions about the things I was bringing up, which I always think is a good sign.

This event had not induced much anxiety in me, at least compared to the upcoming half-day on the Shodoka, which is this Saturday. Thankfully, I put in some solid hours of preparation on Friday and Monday, which have left me feeling a little more sure of where I am heading with the material. 

It helps that the football season is mostly over, so I have more time to spend on other interests, including catching up on New Yorkers, which usually leaves me feeling more intelligent and thoughtful. 

Waking up around the same time each morning, right now I have the joy of taking Georgie the dog downstairs to pee first thing as the soft light grows and the dawn chorus, with robins to the fore, echoes all around.  Weatherwise, it has been rather dreary; mild mornings, barely any swing in temperatures during the day, with mostly grey skies at the start and end of the day, and the wind increasing as the hours go by – the typical lack of summer in San Francisco.

I was able to get some good riding in again last weekend; Sweeney Ridge, which I tackled for the first time this year, was less windy and damp than San Bruno Mountain, but I did get up into the fog line. On the car-free trail, I felt an old sensation, the mild adrenaline that kicks in to get me up to a summit, pushing myself hard for the difficult section in themiddle (which I can now compare to the slopes I have to tackle to get home up on Telegraph Hill), finding a steady rhythm for the rest, and the deep joy and excitement of knowing I could get to the top. Thanks to a lack of the usual headwind on the way back to the city, I rode all the way home, for my longest ride for some time, which left me pretty wiped out, but in a good way.