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I stayed at San Francisco Zen Center’s Green Gulch Farm for three days. I’m doing a lot of writing about it because I want to retain as much of the experience as I can. Here’s the first installment, that includes probably too much background on my path to Green Gulch and to zen practice. There are also photos on flickr.

In January of 1988 I had just moved back from New York City to Columbus, OH, and into my first experience living with a boyfriend, Will. He mentioned that he had baked bread from a cookbook he showed me: The Tassajara Bread Book. I’m not sure why I started baking bread from it myself…it may have been my tendency to jump in on whatever someone else is doing that catches my interest, and run with it in a rather overbearing way. Whatever the impulse, I baked bread regularly; it appealed to my sense of frugality. I liked the voice of the bread book…Edward Espe Brown was into this “zen” thing that I didn’t understand, and that sounded a little like a cult to me. But his writing was so open and frank, I couldn’t help but be drawn in by it. And some of the zen stuff sounded interesting, too.

Eventually, I put Will’s now-splattered bread book aside, and began working a series of office and bartending jobs, convinced that I was terrorizing the streets of Columbus with my combat boots, motorcycle jacket, and hair dyed black and shaved on the side. I made jewelry, drinks, friends…not much bread.

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In 1989 I moved to Bloomington, Indiana, because Will was going to attend grad school there. Worried about being able to find work in a new town, I accepted the first job that came along…working the technical support lines for the new office of WordStar International. So I moved to Bloomington three months ahead of Will, and we had a long-distance relationship again for a while. Working for WordStar was a challenge, but since they were training all of us at the same time it made things easier.

I got to be friends with one of the trainers they sent out. Steve was smart, had a brilliant sense of humor, and I was taken with him immediately. We were “just friends”, but when I got sent out to WordStar’s San Rafael office, Steve offered to show me around. I’d never seen the ocean, so Steve took me up Route One and around to Stinson Beach. I remember three things from that ride to the beach…the smell of the Eucalyptus leaves, Lou Reed singing “Walk on the Wild Side” on the radio, and a sign for Green Gulch Farm. It triggered a memory, and I told Steve about the bread book that I liked. He remembered seeing the zen center’s bakery somewhere in San Francisco. “So that’s where it is…” At the time I think I thought it was actually Tassajara, but found out later that that’s further south, inland from Big Sur.

Seven years later, I moved in with Steve, and five years after that we were married.

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Fast forward to…2004, I think. Unable to sleep, I was watching TV; while flipping channels I heard and interesting voice and stopped to watch and interview with Peter Matthiessen. He’d just published his book about Antartica, but mentioned his other book, The Snow Leopard. I remembered hearing about that book…I think Steve mentioned it. A few weeks later, at the bookstore I was looking for a “nature” book, and noticed “The Snow Leopard” on the shelf and bought it. While you CAN describe this as a nature book, it’s also very much a book about zen, and it piqued my interest. I started looking for more material about zen and looked up local centers. I didn’t find any that were terribly close, and the one I found did regular services on Saturdays, a bad thing during our hawk watch season. But I had it on a sort of mental life list…some day I’d like to visit a zen center.

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In 2006 I read a book review of Crooked Cucumber: The Life and Teaching of Shunryu Suzuki. The book sounded intriguing, so I checked it out of the Library and devoured it in several sittings. It was so interesting…one of the things that struck me the most was how Suzuki Roshi, such a complete success in bringing zen to the United States, was largely unknown in Japan…in fact, he was considered a something of a failure there, sent to the United States and forgotten.

“Crooked Cucumber” started me on the search for zen centers again, and this time I found Stone Creek Zen Center…right across town in Sebastopol. I found an email address and wrote to inquire…Jisho Warner answered with a warm email inviting me to come any time, but suggesting meditation instruction on the first Sunday of the month as a good time. And that’s how I came to Stone Creek, and I’ve been practicing there ever since. I attend on Sundays for zazen (sitting meditation) and the dharma talk. I also make a habit of going on Wednesday nights for two 30-minute sessions of zazen with a 10-minute session of kinhin (walking meditation). I also try to do at least 10-minutes of zazen most mornings (but realistically average 3-4 mornings per week).

And that’s the long back-story to how I came to decide on a short vacation at Green Gulch Farm. I wanted some relaxation and escape, and I was interesting in exploring more about zen and some of the roots of the things that brought me to zen in the first place. I also wanted to be in an environment that would be helpful for continuing goals of having a healthier relationship with food and being present in my body. The guest practice retreatant option, one of several residential programs at Green Gulch, seemed perfect.

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As my stay at Green Gulch Farm grew closer, I grew more apprehensive. Would I be able to sit for two 40-minute periods of zazen every morning at 5 am? Would I feel overwhelmed by all of the buddhism, and all of the formal students here? I felt emotionally precarious and exhausted in the days leading up to my reservations; at the last minute I didn’t want to leave Steve and our pets to go on a trip (this happens to me every time). But, too, I was grateful for the opportunity, and felt that it was important for me to go.

It was more stressful than I had guessed to pack; I wanted to be zen-like and pack light, but I also was hoping for the chance to do some reading and maybe some drawing. Don’t forget birding. And all of my clothing suddenly seems inappropriate…logos and pictures on tshirts, pants that are too tight for sitting cross-legged for long, etc. etc. This is ridiculous, this fussing about clothing when going to a zen retreat!

Leaving Sebastopol, I passed a Caltrans team loading a dead deer onto a truck. Its head lolled off the back of the truck, a fresh kill evidently, with blood still running out of its mouth. I wanted a good sign, something hopeful…not this. And I realized that I was looking for signs and omens in everything….something that would tell me I was doing the right thing or that would make me turn and go home.

I forgot my iPod. Well, no really, I decided I could do without it, but then regret this given the hour drive ahead of me. I’m happy to remember the cassette tapes stashed in the car for just such an “emergency”, and am happy to find Shaved Fish, which seems like a good choice for this trip.”Happy Christmas (War is Over)” is ending as I pull into the Eucalyptus-lined driveway of Green Gulch. Here we are.

I find the parking lot and then the office, and am checked in by a very polite-but-warm resident, Bernt. He tells me I’m in Room 4 in the guest house, and I have a 4:45 appointment with Kate at the doorway of the Zendo. Kate will give me an orientation.There was just enough time to unpack my bag and hang things up in the closet before going to orientation. With the help of a map (everything is close together, but among winding paths), I find Cloud Hall and Green Dragon Temple (the zendo) are. Cloud hall is a student dormitory and it connects to the zendo. Along the second floor balcony inside there are rows of herbs hanging from the railing to dry.

Kate introduces me to the zendo and describes what my day will be like. I’ll come at 4:50 for zazen and morning services. Here there are assigned seats; I’ll need to check in with a person at the door to find out where I’ll sit. I’ve sat zazen before, but the most I’ve done is thirty minutes at a time; I’ll need to do forty here, and fumble my way through a chanting and bowing service. It’s intimidating. After service, there will be a short silent work period, then breakfast, then a break before the main morning work. After that, the rest of the day is mine.

Kate gives me a basic meditation instruction, which I appreciate; even though I’ve been going to Stone Creek regularly, there are slight differences in zendo etiquette here and it’s good to get a refresher on proper technique. And she shows me a rest posture that’s very helpful…if my legs can’t take sitting, I can do a slow quiet bow, unwind my legs and hug them to my chest while maintaining an upright meditative posture (no putting the head on the knees!). I’d never heard of this before and it relieves a lot of my anxiety. Then Kate shows me around some other important areas, and it’s time for her to go to evening zazen and service. I’m invited to join, although it’s not required. Even though I’m intimidated by the forty minutes, I decide to do zazen…it seems a good way to get started here.

Periods of zazen here sometimes include chimes and drumming, which is an interesting change from the silence I’m used to. It’s also different to be in such a large space with so many people (there were probably at least thirty other people, sometimes more). There was a short bowing and chanting ceremony after zazen. I’m happy that one of the chants we do is “Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo”, the Kanzeon sutra:

Kanzeon
namu butsu
yo butsu u in
yo butsu u en
buppo so en
jo raku ga jo
cho nen kanzeon
bo nen kanzeon
nen nen ju shin ki
nen nen fu ri shin

I heard an interesting talk about this sutra and Kanzeon/Quan-Yin a few months ago and have never heard this chanted formally; it’s repeated four or five times here, getting a little faster each time, with a drum and chimes, and the offering of incense at particular places. It was a very moving experience.

The bows include several full prostrations; we gently drop to our knees, put our head on the floor with our hands facing forward, palms up, then raise the arms from elbow (”lifting the feet of Buddha”), then gently rise. It’s more physically rigorous than it sounds, and I realize while doing it that it feels very good physically to do after zazen, and it requires a lot of mental focus for me to do it correctly, bringing my mind back to the present.

It’s typical for Westerners to have many reservations about bowing and the use of statues for Buddha and Bodhisattvas. Having been raised Catholic, with its genuflecting and kneeling and with many statues of saints, I think I’m less bothered by it than many. And the distinction for me is that we’re bowing to the higher natures within ourselves and the people around us; the statues and bodhisattvas represent ways of looking at our selves and aspects of our own natures.

After evening service, it’s time for dinner. It’s served buffet style, and we bow before taking a plate (we also bow before taking our seat to eat, when someone joins or leaves our table, and when we leave the table). There are huge quantities of vegetarian food, and I’m shocked by the amount of vegetables that people are putting on their plates…here veggies are not “side” dishes, and people burn lots of calories in work (as I’ll soon find out for myself). Tonight’s meal is mashed potatoes, barbeque tofu, and green beans.

The first ten minutes of every meal are done in silence; after the clapper sounds, discussion is allowed. It’s a good experience to concentrate on the food, but I also watch the other people quite a lot. I can tell the gardeners…they wear big knives strapped to their belts, maybe a pouch with pruners. I can pick out the guests pretty easily; they seem more unsure, and tend to be in brighter colors (I’m still wishing that my own shirts I have with me didn’t have logos or designs on the front).

A couple sits next to me who seem decidedly not zen, and it turns out they’re not; they’re staying in the guest house as “full guests” who don’t have to participate at all. They don’t like the food, and its too bad for them, because it’s really wonderful. I do feel an urge to salt my food, but I resist…while I’m here, I’ll try to appreciate the seasonings of the cooks, and I feel it might spoil my ability to taste more subtle things if I use salt. The food is all beautiful and delicious. The barbecue tofu seems like a strange dish to me, but it tastes better than I expected. I eat an enormous pile of green beans.

After dinner I go to my room and open the sliding doors to the outdoors. I put the “raccoon sticks” in the door track to limit the opening so that the critters can’t get in at night. I read for a while (brought “Silent Spring” and “Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain” for this trip).

I can’t resist an evening snack of bread and butter from the guest house kitchen. I’d seen the loaf earlier while checking out the snack supply, and it looked like it might be similar to what I used to make from the Tassajara Bread Book. When I open the bread bag, it’s obvious by the aroma that it is, and I relish a thick slice of toast with butter. This becomes an evening ritual for me, later indulging my sweet tooth by adding some honey, and adding a cup of peppermint tea.

While getting ready to go to bed, I hear rustling outside my window and see deer in the brush just outside. They, too, are settling in for the night. I watch one lay down and it becomes utterly camouflaged; for a few seconds I can still make out the shape of its head, but then without moving, the deer completely disappears.

Next: Tuesday: First Full Day