Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

‘Together Grahame [Petchey] and I took a train to visit Irmgard Schloegl now called Myokyo-ni, her Japanese Buddhist name, myo meaning subtle, kyo, mirror, and ni, nun. They call her “Venerable” Myokyo-ni, a title that had once been suggested for Suzuki instead of “reverend” or “sensei” or “roshi” and rejected – thank goodness. I’d heard of this German woman Buddhist since I first arrived at Zen Center. For twelve years starting in 1960 she had studied at Daitokuji in Kyoto, in but not limited to the environs of Ruth Fuller Sasaki. Everything I’d heard had hinted at her stalwart perseverance and no nonsense style. I talked to her on the phone and she was only willing to meet me if I brought Grahame. He was most happy to comply.

Before joining her for tea I walked downstairs and Grahame rode the stair tram, a seat on a rail, to inspect the zendo. It was cozy and immaculate. There was a photo on an altar of Christmas Humphreys, founder of the London Buddhist Society in 1924 and one of the first people from the West to write about Zen. A student who was diligently oiling the wood on a ceremonial chair greeted us and explained that Venerable Myokyo-ni, now eighty, could no longer come downstairs and that students now went to her room for lecture and some services.

Myokyo-ni walked with two canes and her eyes shone bright from her shaved head when she greeted Grahame though she admonished him that she could not kiss a man. It had been almost forty years since they’d met in Japan. She had come to London in 1972 and set up a zendo at the London Buddhist Society’s center with the help of Christmas Humphreys. When he died Humphreys left his home to her as a center. She’s still the head of the London Buddhist Society. Grahame, it turned out, had sat zazen there in 1966.

He had been conducting a weekly zazen group at his apartment and wanted to move it to the Buddhist Society and hold daily sittings there. At that time, he said, Humphreys had to be persuaded to allow forty minute periods of zazen at his center – with the added innovation of sitting on cushions on the floor. Before that there had only been ten minute sittings once a week in chairs. Humphreys had said that for Westerners to meditate for long periods could be dangerous, even promote insanity. He also had concerns about scruffy people coming in off the street rather than through the Buddhist Society. Grahame told Humphreys that Reverend Suzuki (as he was often called up to that year) at the San Francisco Zen Center had run an open zendo without experiencing any terrible problems. But Humphreys did not share Suzuki’s appreciation of hippies. Humphreys’ concerns were assuaged when Grahame brought in a recently arrived Japanese Rinzai Zen priest, another Suzuki, to preside. They only did it once at the Buddhist Society before deciding on another venue, but it was a precedent-breaking all day sitting.

As our meeting continued, I forgot about Myokyo-ni as a precious bit of history and experienced her as a living teacher with no stink of Zen. She was gracious and straightforward. She did speak about Buddhism though, and got into a discussion with Grahame about the importance of emphasizing the basics of original Buddhist teaching and the life of Buddha.

They talked about all the seemingly needless hardships imposed by their seniors in Japanese temples in the sixties. Myokyo-ni said she trusted the traditions and the hardships, that she’d put some thought into making the way easier for her students, but said these traditions developed over a long period of time and there must be a good deal of wisdom in them. “They are there to quell the fires within us, and it’s going to be hard anyway,” she added.

She asked us if we’d like more tea then, when we answered in the affirmative, hit her wooden clackers to call a student in. I glanced at him as he whisked off the tray to replenish our cups and adding the look on his face to the few interactions I’d had in my brief time at her center, surmised that her students were being subjected to no Byzantine tortures such as those Grahame had gone through in the halls of Soto Zen’s premiere monastery, Eiheiji – no fraternity type razzing, no culture-based screw-turning and peculiarities of Japanese priest craft such as interminable periods of seiza (sitting on the shins) all day long till one vomited, no beatings for minuscule infractions of precious form. I suspected that the hardships undergone by her students were reasonable and invigorating by comparison.

Grahame noted how closely the environment of her center resembled that of the essential elements of a Japanese training temple: discrete dress, few props well tended, a monk sweeping in the garden, clean lavatories, wiped woodwork, attentive disciples, the simple beauty of the garden and house. It was a handsome large building with well tended grounds. Myokyo-ni had said they could afford it because it was in Luton, widely considered one of the worst places in England. I remembered that whenever I’d said to anyone that I was going to Luten that they’d asked, “Why do you want to go there?”‘ (from Cuke.com)

I can’t remember what prompted me to search out this story – it was either something about the Buddhist Society in Pimlico (which I once visited on an unsuccessful errand while visiting from Tassajara, it being closed most of the time) or the house in Luton (which I have only visited for the airport…)