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I stayed at San Francisco Zen Center’s Green Gulch Farm for three days in July. Here’s the fourth installment, this one about my last day there.

I wake on the last morning of my stay and make it to the zendo on time, happy that I haven’t blown it by sleeping in during any morning. Today I took a rest posture during both periods of zazen, but the found that at the first one we were nearly done anyhow, with the bell ringing seconds after moving my legs.

For zendo cleaning, Kate whispered to me, “Cloud Hall women’s bathroom”…I went there and was relieved to find that there were instructions taped to the wall when I got there. Two other students joined in and we made quick work of it…done daily, the bathroom was already pretty clean.

Breakfast this morning was coffee cake (yay! sweets!), fruit, and the usual oatmeal. It was Bernt’s birthday, so once it was ok to speak we sang to him. A new full-time guest sat across from me; I was grateful to escape when I finished breakfast, wanting quiet. Back at my room, I pack everything and take my towels to the car; I’ve arranged to check out by 11 but still dash back after work to the guest house for a shower.

The usual announcements are made during the work meeting; near the end, the resident cat enters and curls her tail around the leg of one of the women. As Kate closes up the shrine for work meeting area, the cat walks into the center of the circle and everyone laughs. As we bow, the cat walks up and sits under the shrine, happy to accept our bows.

At the work meeting, I expect to do dishes but, happy surprise, am told to go to the kitchen with one of the students. The kitchen staff is finishing a chant at their shrine and the women who the cat curled around does three full prostrations. I’ve already gotten the impression that the kitchen is the most formal work area, so I’m not terribly surprised by any of this.

Kitchen; work area with knife block.

I’m shown the aprons and headscarves and don one of each. We’re set to slicing red onions, then tomatoes, then carrot and celery sticks. I feel at ease in the kitchen, and very happy to be here. It’s very quiet; talking is discouraged and is done softly when the need arises. Everything is beautifully organized but not fussy.

Spices in the kitchen.

Still, in my mind, I’m looking for approval, trying to arrange onions artfully on the platter or hoping to be noticed for scrubbing carrots well. The staff expresses gratitude, but nothing more…and I don’t feel cheated.

Work today turns out to be a little different; it ends a with a short break and then an 11am guest student meeting that I’m invited to. I dash to the shower and change during the break, then to the meeting in the library. We’re encouraged to talk about the week. When I think about saying anything to express my gratitude, tears well up, and I end up fighting off a crying jag for most of the rest of the meeting. I manage to nod and croak “thank you” when Kate mentions that it’s my last day, but am am grateful when she sees my face and gracefully moves along to talk about something else. Despite this, we also have some laughs during the meeting and learn more about the history of Green Gulch and what things are like at Tassajara. I smile to myself when I think of seeing Laika after being gone for a while, making me a little impatient to go at the same time a part of me doesn’t want to leave.

We’re dismissed and I go to lunch. I’m not sure what I’m going to do if one of the students sits near me and strikes up conversation about it being my last day…I almost sit at the silent table, but don’t want to draw even that much attention to myself, so I don’t. Lunch is chickpea stew and bread, which I try to enjoy, but I can’t stop thinking about leaving enough to really enjoy it.

A new guest sits across from me, and she is silent, and I’m grateful. I finish and take my dishes to the kitchen, and notice that it’s empty, so I take some photos while I can without disturbing anyone. I leave the dining room, and remember that I want to take some photos of the large outdoor bell, so I do that, and then just keep walking to my car, and get inside.

The big bell.

The car feels odd to me, like the lightest touch turns the steering wheel, or just feathering the gas pedal backs it neatly out of the space. I wonder what it will feel like to be back in the real world.

Taking Route 1 back home, I see a doe cross the road and, not thinking, slow to a stop even though it’s already across…sure enough, a spotted fawn follows, treading out into the road, hesitating and staring at me, then finishes crossing in an all-out run.

Next: Afterward