“And it came to pass that the rains came. And then the deluge. And then the floods. And lo, the leaves fell all at once, and came to rest on the flat roof. And, as foretold, the leaks ensued. And then the damp, and the dank, and the mold. Sensitive and allergic denizens of the community fled in droves. Others stayed, and cleaned up the mess. And so, the zendo was reborn.”
— Archives of the Silent Thunder Order
Perhaps “zendo reno” would be more appropriate, but far less dramatic. And in truth, the scope of the provenance, process, and progress of the renovation of our wonderful ASZC zendo at Zonolite, has spanned about nine months; so the metaphor may be apt. In any case, we have many to thank for the resurrection and marked improvement of our meditation hall. While we should, in principle, be able to sit anywhere — on top of an ant nest being a notable exception, as I can testify from personal experience — it is a real pleasure to have a sitting space designed for that purpose, and conducive to the experience of simplicity, uncluttered cleanliness, consistent and quiet contemplation.
The idea of providing and maintaining an environment conducive to the practice of meditation we heard defined as one meaning of dana, the perfecting of generosity, by Venerable Achok Rimpoche, when he visited ASZC in 2003. Sitting on the high seat in the middle of the room, he looked around, stroked his chin, and with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, complimented our zendo on its simplicity, with its white walls and natural wood trim. Then he said, “But you know, in Tibet, everything is white. Everywhere you look. So we like a little more color!” Their halls are know for the bright, relatively garish, reds and golds.
Venerable Achok Rimpoche visiting ASZC 2003
As a side note to that memorable event, the eminent physicist, David Finklestein, who had been a guest speaker at ASZC several times, attended and met Rimpoche, who apparently was working with the Dalai Lama to establish the relationship with Emory University, and develop a curriculum for Tibetan monks to be educated in Western science. Dr. Finklestein later authored the section of the textbook on physics, I understand. David passed away just last month. He will be missed, but is still somewhere in this Universe he knew so well, I feel sure.
Venerable Achok Rimpoche and Dr. David Finklestein at ASZC 2003
So we should take to heart this idea that our expression of Zen compassion and generosity is not limited to our behavior toward others, our financial and in-kind support of the Zen center, and/or our attendance and participation in meditation, retreats and other community events.
The exercise of dana also encompasses working and cleaning (J. samu and soji), managing the affairs of the center by volunteering for the Board of Directors, and committees of the BOD; and in general, “taking good care of the practice place,” to quote the recurrent Zen trope. You are invited to participate in this kind of practice by attending and helping with our occasional work parties, which are engendering enthusiastic response from several of our members. But we need your help.
Oftentimes, this kind of contribution goes unrewarded, and most members of the sangha are not aware that someone is taking care of business, behind the scenes, at all times. We offer a semi-regular cleaning activity each Sunday, after the morning service, and before the dialog at 11 am, which is fairly typical of Zen centers. It is an example of the Zen principle expressed as “Leave no traces.”
This phrase has many levels of meaning, but on the most concrete level, we try to leave the zendo as we found it, or even better, as if no one has been sitting there. The dust itself is immaculate, but if we leave it for the next person, they may not feel so welcome. But this does not mean that we become obsessed with cleaning, or puffed-up because we are so much more diligent than the others. It becomes an exercise in moderation, the middle way in action.
I was given the assignment to sweep the front sidewalk at San Francisco Zen Center on Paige Street, while staying there during a conference in 2000. It was abruptly discontinued some 15-20 minutes later by the clacking of the sticks, when I had just gotten started. Surprise was followed quickly by frustration. But to sweep the whole sidewalk would have been impossible, in less than several hours.
So we have to learn, not only the value of cleaning our Zen center, but also the reality that we are not alone, and may have to leave some of the work for later, or for others. We cannot always have our way, even when we are doing good for others; and have to relinquish our sense of closure, or completion anxiety. This is also a form of generosity, of maintaining harmony within the sangha. We are all in this together, and no one of us is all that important.
Currently, much of the day-in and day-out maintenance of the environment of the Zen center falls to the residents who live there. This is, to a degree, rationalized by the fact that they are the ones who benefit most from a pleasant living environment, which is their home at present; and by the same token, most likely to be aware of issues and items that need to be addressed. But at the same time, they have to live with any unpleasant conditions that arise from day-to-day wear and tear, and emergencies such as the recent ceiling breach.
Fortunately for the rest of us, the residents now in place at ASZC are there for the right reasons (which has not always been the case, in our long history). We all benefit immensely from their presence, and the harmony that they have maintained with each other. It is not easy to live in a public space, let alone one with the character and charm of our hoary digs at Zonolite. For one thing, non-residents are always impacting upon their environment, sometimes not cleaning up after themselves. For another, we are all hesitant to make changes in a public environment, without permission. This is an example of having the responsibility, without the authority. Next time you see a resident, you might want to express your appreciation for all they do to keep our Zen center so accommodating, and welcoming.
There are other members who have earned kudos as well, and they know who they are. The list is not too long to mention here — in fact it is shorter than it should be — but we do not make a habit of mentioning people by name, in expressing our gratitude for their contributions. In fact, in Zen it is somewhat inappropriate.
On a conventional, social level, of course it is courteous to thank people for what they do, and I try to make a point of doing so, via email thank-you’s if nothing else. And perhaps we should have some kind of recognition ceremony at out Annual General Membership meeting.
But I don’t really enjoy people thanking me for what I do for the sake of Zen. (Full disclosure, I am partially supported by income from dana provided by members of ASZC and STO, as well as a minister’s household expense allowance. Like anyone else, I have householder bills to pay.) But more to the point, what I do for Zen, STO and ASZC, is not entirely selfless. Nor is it entirely selfish.
In Zen, our actions are somewhere in between selfish and selfless. Our actions are, as an expression of dana, a bit of both. To paraphrase Master Dogen, we may refer to our self as non-self, just as we allow for nonsense, opposed to sense. There is enlightened self-interest, in supporting our own Zen practice through actions that further its full expression; and there is the halo effect on others, in helping to support their practice as well. This is a case where secret virtue is its own reward.
This is also a characteristic of the special brand of fellowship, or friendship, in Zen. Just as we set the concept of self against that of true self, we position the idea of friend in the context of true friend (J. chishiki; S. kalyanamitra). A true friend is one who is interested in your apprehension of buddhadharma, as well or even as much as their own. Rather than, or along with, other aspects of any relationship that may arise between people.
Similarly, Buddhist compassion, as I understand it, has this bipolar quality. The word means “suffer with,” and so recognizes the non-separation of self and other. I have compassion for you, mainly by recognizing that I am in the same boat; rather than seeing you as the suffering one, and myself as the liberated one.
It is natural, and perhaps highly appropriate, that in Zen we turn to the surrounding environment to express this compassion, and generosity of spirit, in a more concrete way. My teacher, Matsuoka-roshi, invited us to help clean and maintain the Temple in Chicago. When he would come upon you doing something to take good care of the practice place, especially if it was spontaneous, enthusiastic, and self-initiated, he would say, “You are the real one!”
Those who take ownership of the Zen center, and especially the zendo, but for the sake of others, are the real ones. You can be a real one, too. Please keep an eye out for the newsletter and announcements of these communal events. It is your Zen center, and your spiritual home.
