Shundo David Haye – Zen Priest

On our last day in England, we just had time to spend a few hours in central London, buying a few gifts and eating a nice lunch. Our evening flight followed the sun west. It was one of the smoothest flights I can recall, as I don’t think the Fasten Seatbelt sign was turned on once. We had been a little late taking off, and managed to land a little early. 

Any pleasure I had in that, since we landed in the middle of the night UK time, was dissipated by the lines for passport control. At Dulles, as a green card holder – unlike at SFO – I was pointed at the visitor line, not the citizen line. And it was moving very slowly. Once everybody else had been processed, we ended up moving a little more quickly, though I was behind a number of elderly women in wheelchairs who were being sharply questioned by the agent.

We had a few minutes to find our hotel shuttle. I misread the signs for where we had to go, but luckily Ruth got me in the right direction in time to wave down the driver who was just pulling away. I was so grateful that he stopped and we didn’t have to wait half an hour for the next one. 

The next morning we had to take the shuttle back so that Ruth could fly down to Florida for a couple of days with her brother’s family. That left me several hours to while away until the other planning committee members had all arrived (a couple of them had been at the same hotel). The terminal being an Eero Saarinen building, it was pleasant enough to spend time in, though all the food and coffee was in the basement.

The drive down to the retreat center was long enough that we stopped for lunch on the way. We were shown around and given dinner, and had time to settle in. None of us had a lot of energy, so left the last planning for the morning. This was complicated by the fact that the person who was supposed to prepare our breakfast did not show up. I was getting very hungry; we were advised to drive to the next town for a diner, which certainly hit the spot, and also brought home the fact that we were in the south with the attentive service, even with a saffron-robed monk among us.

In the afternoon, we had several waves of arrivals, many of whom I already knew. Finally it was all happening. Again, the first evening, we didn’t plan for much, just a chance for us to all get together, which was good as I was fading early.

My main responsibility was for the icebreaker session the next morning, which I had worried about. In the course of the gatherings I have attended, we have done several different things, some of which left me feeling quite vulnerable. I tried to pitch it a little lighter, but we still had some strong moments. Luckily, our practice and compassion got us through, and I thought it went pretty well overall.

We had tried to keep the sessions mainly directed by the group’s concerns around teaching, their communities and the state of the world, and built plenty of down time into the schedule. The rest of the first day and the second day seemed to go very well.

In the mornings and the evening, when group practice was offered, I sat out on a chair that offered a view through the trees and on to the Shenandoah mountains; there was abundant bird song, with deer, rabbits and other animals around. The woods around the property were vibrantly green; the river too shallow to do more than wade – a group of us went down on the free middle afternoon.

I took over facilitation again for the last day; the morning session was rich with the topics that had been most pressing for people. I thought we might keep up that energy in the afternoon, but everyone seemed to be flagging, including me, so we did our closing ceremonies a little earlier, and allowed people to find their own conversations before dinner.

We came back for the traditional No Talent show, which I was also in charge of. There are always people willing to step forward and perform something, even their own poetry and stories. We wrapped up with a group Thai celebratory dance.

On the shuttle back to the airport, a Scottish participant and I had a great time teasing one of the longest standing members about British history and geography, before we all went our separate ways. 

I was back by dinnertime on Sunday, jetlagged again. I had been ready to head home by Friday, not because of the conference, but because I was a little tired of living out of my bag, drinking mediocre coffee, and sleeping in beds of varying comfort. Apart from the fact that the cupboards were pretty bare, it was nice to get back to my routine again. This is a busy teaching week, with roams and a wedding through the weekend, so I have been giving myself permission to do little between my scheduled activities, even though I have plenty of things to catch up on.

The weather has also warmed up in San Francisco, even after a late sprinkling of rain on Monday night. It’s nice to be home.