Happy Zen Anniversary

In a few days I leave for a weeklong silent retreat with the New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care. This will mark 3 years exactly that I came to this practice, since it was then that I blindly signed up for my first Sesshin retreat. Sesshin means “to touch the heart mind”, and it’s a period of intense practice that includes hours of daily meditation, dharma talks, chanting, bowing, and noble silence. I’m very excited to return to this loving, nourishing container with my teachers and sangha/community, and to immerse myself in the magic and discipline of this particular lineage (note the seeming paradox). Several attempts at a Sesshin were made during dips in covid, but every time we got close a new variant rose back up to remind us that human plans are merely a tiny part of the picture. Adapting to whatever conditions arise is a key part of the practice, in keeping with the core teachings of impermanence, managing our preferences, and cultivating equanimity in the face of the constant flux of life. There is a place in each of us that does not crumble in the face of challenge and change.

I honestly cannot believe how my life has unfolded in the three years since I was delivered to Japanese Soto Zen Buddhism. I had been looking for a general silent retreat, having dipped my pinky toe into meditation and yoga. I had no idea what I signed up for, but the dates worked with my kids’ schedule and the teachers looked nice online. That was literally it. I did no research, which is typical for me since I am often driven by instinct and impulse. Sometimes this works out the way I want, sometimes it doesn’t, but there are learnings regardless. Most of my greatest learnings and periods have growth have been when I was most certainly not in favor of the circumstances; challenge drives change. And trust me, these retreat periods are very challenging, especially walking in sight unseen as I did. I recall sailing in there in a stupid fedora, making my grand entrance, and being handed a schedule in Japanese that began promptly at 6 am. As in, wake up at 5:30 so one can take their meditation seat by 5:58. We only spoke 10 minutes a day in scheduled meetings with the teachers, called dokusan. Dokusan is a private opportunity to consult with a teacher about the/your practice. It’s wild how much insight and guidance comes from a few minutes of fully focused presence, deep attention, and warm curiosity. I loved how all 85 of us moved in sync; we walked, took our food, sat, and rose in unison to live out the idea of One Body. It was beautifully touching and I’d never heard anything like it before. One of the symbols of Zen is the Enzo, which is a circular brushstroke. It’s a common zen image and it means that every single facet of the universe and humankind is included in the One. We don’t get to choose who/what belongs, and we certainly don’t get to leave ourselves out. No separation is a core tenet. Our sangha holds these gatherings in an old monastery that is a Buddhist retreat center in the New York area. Not having air conditioning, locks on the doors, or my own bathroom had to be included as well:). Religious discipline, ritual, and service schedules are second nature to me because of my Jewish life, so I took to all that easily. I definitely felt like a babe in the woods but in a wide eyed, exploratory way. I just decided to follow everyone else and jump right in. When there are no distractions and we are alone with our mind and emotions, then that becomes the practice. Working with thoughts and feelings, studying the nature of mental and emotional states, understanding the natural functions of the body mind and their impermanence, all while returning over and over again to the breath as a steady anchor for all else that arises and disappears. To commit to this requires patience, steadfastness, rigor, determination, faith, loving attention, humility, and the decision to deeply explore what it means to be a human being in a human body. What’s this life and incarnation really about? What’s our purpose? This approach to reality continues to shed light on those age old, existential inquiries. It was the first time I began to peel back mental and emotional layers, revealing the true essence of what is housed inside this very temporary body. I was so blown away by the instructions by the teachers to fully explore Me, so that I can realize it’s not even me at all. The Me in each of us gets in the way. It blocks connection since the job of the Me is to cling to its own fixed ideas. It’s a constant locking horns with the numberless Me’s in the world. These carefully constructed identities and ideas of self are just that; ideas. It’s what lies beneath that’s the magic the world needs from each of us. It takes lifetimes to unlearn all the dense layers of stories, habits, trauma, and conditioning. This is what’s meant by liberation, freeing ourselves from these layers and concepts that usually keep us stuck in half lived lives. It’s like there’s a voice whispering, “there’s so much more”. I can say with certainty that finding this practice and my teachers has enriched and opened my life in ways I never thought possible. In the past three years my relationships have improved, my creativity continues to unlock, my career has expanded, and I experience life in an entirely new way every single day. A whole new way that actually feels whole. We don’t practice to gain anything, but once the internal landscape starts to crack and shift, external things start to move as well. Openings lead to more openings, which invites in endless fresh possibilities and opportunities to relate to life differently. I still feel like a newborn doe in this practice, even though I ,too, now wear the long black robes and know the words to the seemingly impossible Heart Sutra that we chant daily. What was so foreign three years ago is now a regular part of my life. I couldn’t describe how I felt at the end of Sesshin in 2019, but I knew that I didn’t want to leave. I wanted more of whatever had just taken place. I knew it was special and that it deeply resonated. It had become my spiritual path, along with my Judaism. I work with both in a way that never feels conflicting or contradictory. It’s not uncommon for me to be in synagogue on Saturday and at zen service on Sunday. I’m proud to show my kids what it means to be a seeker who is willing to learn for the sake of deepening my life. Through this practice I have learned how to care for myself, and things only grow when cared for. Hashem makes no mistakes and everything is dharma; same concept in two different religious/spiritual ways of life. I find that Judaism often lacks emphasis on true nourishment and dignity for the individual, and I understand that our survival as a people has been based on rigid ideas of community. We have had to function as a self protective unit. I have watched relationships of all kinds suffer greatly because we haven’t been taught how to really relate to one another, and it pains me when any religion is misused and misinterpreted, which causes great interpersonal harm. Buddhism has made me a better Jew, and Judaism has been a wonderful foundation for Buddhist practice. I love and use them both. My teacher is Jewish, and it’s no accident I landed in his particular gin joint. These 3 years have been expansive beyond my wildest dreams, and I feel more alive, more curious, and more grateful than I have since I was a small child. It has been a medicinal time that has both brought me back, propelled me forth, and has dropped me into the present. What a gift and a blessing. As I re-enter yet another Sesshin container in which I get to be with myself, struggle, breathe, fall, and get back up, I am awash with awe for the twists and turns life offers us if we seek it. We must ask and show up for Spirit so Spirit can show up for us. We must want to get out of our own way. Prayer of any kind helps with this. Listen to your voice that’s always whispering, “there’s so much more”. It has a unique message that’s yours to discover. Silence affords us the chance to really hear.

Love,
Jessica
Zehava (Hebrew for gold)
Kosen (Japanese for Spacious River)