We’ve visited Death Valley several times…it’s one of our favorite places. In fact, we were married there in April 2001. So it’s not unusual for us to get the bug to return in April. Of course, it’s not all that unusual at all, given that everyone is doing it these days. Damned bloggers, giving away our best spots. <smile>
We combined two nights at Death Valley with a night at Pinnacles National Monument, keen to see the California Condors who inhabit the area. It was a spectacular trip…there’s nothing better that California in the springtime! But, as Uncle Steve reminds me, “Really, the wildflowers are crap and the animals will bite and kill you. It’s best if you stay out of Death Valley, readers!”
And we even saw the condors at Pinnacles. Here’s my photos from the trip:
This trip was made possible by Therm-a-rest. We decided to spend the money we might have used on a hotel room in Death Valley on new Therm-a-Rest DreamTime sleeping pads, which have renewed my interest in camping. I also had trouble sitting in one position for a long car ride, and the Therm-a-Rest Lite Seat came to the rescue there. Kids, listen to Aunt T and get out there to enjoy the days when you can sleep or sit anywhere, before your bones get old and creaky like mine!
I’m almost done getting all of my vacation photos organized, but here’s an interesting subset of them, from our stop at Thunder Mountain Monument. Here’s a random selection from the set…more details about the monument and photos from our visit are on the Flickr set page
Thunder Mountain Monument is perfectly
set in the desert along I-80 near Imlay,
Nevada. It’s the life work of Frank
Dean Van Zant, born in 1921 in Okmulgee,
Oklahoma. Van Zant considered himself a
Native American member of the Creek
Nation and later became known as Chief
Rolling Mountain Thunder.
Van Zant served in the Civilian
Conservation Corps in his early teens
and later served in World War II. After
the war he studied theology and became
an assistant pastor for a Methodist
congregation, turned to law enforcement
for two decades as a sheriff’s deputy,
and finally became a private
investigator before retiring. (And, I
would add, beginning his
"real" work).
Chief Rolling Mountain Thunder wanted
to memorialize the plight and suffering
of Native Americans. From a sign at the
memorial, "I don’t have the
financial means to do anything other
than build with what the Great Spirit
has provided to me. That is the junk
that has been cast away by the white
man. The Indian used everything and the
white man is wasteful. I will build a
Monument to the Indian people from the
refuse of our white society."
The main monument began as a travel
trailer that was continually built
around. Among the structures that
survive today are a glass bottle house,
inspired by the bottle house in Rhyolite, NV, near Death Valley.
The sculptures and structures of the
monument are striking and ghostly.
There are fences built of junk, ladders,
and sculptures of women and warriors who
look as though they’ll come to life in
your dreams. Steve visited here in the
1970’s, a decade when the site became a
popular destination for the counter
culture…I’m grateful that he thought
to stop on our trip this time. Steve’s got excellent photos here also.
Dan Van Zant, Chief Rolling Mountain
Thunder’s son, is working to keep the
monument alive. You can read more about
it, and the history of the place and its
creator’s life, at thundermountainmonument.com.
I found the monument to be very moving, even haunting. And it was inspiring to me as a symbol of what can be accomplished when one follows oneself in the process of creating from the heart.
Laika and I walked around to the front of the main monument while Steve circled around another way. She stopped, stared into a spot inside the fence where I could discern nothing, and barked…looked at me, looked back at the spot, and barked again.
We’re back from vacation…more on that later, undoubtedly.
I return to find I’ve made a cameo appearance in a fine film that also features my friends Tony, Mark, Goli, Marc, and Jay. Maybe others.
I also see that Justin and Stephanie are visiting some of our favorite places. We were traversing a route through Oregon, Idaho, and Nevada on this trip, but a thought that I had more than once was that we needed to get back to the Southwest before too long.
As an unsophisticated writer, I make a lot of mistakes; the obvious mistake in writing about my stay at Green Gulch Farm is that a simple narrative…this happened, then this happened…doesn’t serve the experience well, and I haven’t been skillful about bringing some of the other elements into this story. (The biggest crime, of course, is that I’m expounding at length about subject material which is perhaps best approached in silence.) So I thought I’d continue with my errors, and talk a little bit about the experience overall.
Near the end of my stay, I realized that I could keep the pattern of the days indefinitely and be quite happy; the constant dissatisfaction with life that I normally feel was gone. This “lack of dissatisfaction” is something different than “satisfaction” and is hard to describe, but having the experienced that feeling is something I cherish.
I really did feel different in the hours and days after returning to what we normally think of as the “real world”. Steve said I seemed different; happy. I was. I think I moved more slowly and relaxed. Despite the pain in my legs from sitting, I felt better than I have in years; there were a lot of aches and pains in my back, shoulders, and especially knees that were just gone. I’m guessing that there’s something in my usual environment, possibly food, possibly sitting at a computer, that’s contributing to a lot of background pain and discomfort in my life. It’s slowly crept back in, but I’m more aware of the physcial feelings and am watching for things that affect them.
My room in the guest house
The environment at Green Gulch Farm is warm, natural, and it seeps into a person. My first visits to stores and offices on my return were in sharp contrast. It feels silly to say so, but the experience of walking into a chain drug store was actually painful…the fluorescent lights, bright colors, plastic, smells, the sheer amount of stuff, everywhere…walking into a place like that was like standing next to a big stereo that was suddenly turned on at full volume.
Atrium of the Lindisfarne Guest House
I gained a new perspective on manual work. Normally it’s something I try to fit in around everything else, but it’s actually enjoyable if I elevate it in my own mind as something important and worth doing attentively. I got some new kitchen tools as a result, including an apron (I found it really pleasant to have clean dry clothing underneath after cooking and dishes, and as a signal that “now I’m working in the kitchen”…not ripping CDs, watching TV, or doing any of the other things that might distract me). I’m completely convinced that cooking from scratch is the way I want to eat most of the time, and I’m hoping to cure my own knee pain by staying away from processed foods.
I knew that Green Gulch Farm would be an environment that would be supportive of the work I’ve been doing surrounding eating and food, but I hadn’t realized that it would be the PERFECT place to focus and explore this. After all, it’s a FARM…the whole focus is on food and the cycle of food in harmony with nature.
Getting a snack in the guest house kitchen.
I’ve wondered for a long time now if I would be happier as a vegetarian. It’s much easier for me to pass on meat than on breads and dairy products, and my love of animals is congruent with the practice. But I dislike the idea of being fanatical of a diet…it’s a luxury that’s possible only with the enormous bounty that’s become ours as Americans. Though I haven’t drawn any lines in the sand and am still thinking about it on many levels, I’ve been choosing vegetarian when there’s a choice, and have been trying to experiment with new foods and vegetables-as-main-dish. I’m lucky to be supported in that by our new CSA membership in Laguna Farm.
It’s easier for me to feel satisfied in my eating now, and more obvious to me the affect that foods have on the way I feel. There’s still a lot of work to do here, but there are positive differences, and I think they’re supported by the whole realm of activities and practices I was exposed to: eating, work, food production, outdoors/nature, mindfulness, Zen Buddhism, and zazen.
I couldn’t tell you why sitting meditation…zazen…matters, or what affect it has on mind and body. I can’t explain why anyone would subject their legs to that kind of pain, time after time, while sitting there convinced, “I’m not doing this right.” But I do know that the more I do it, the better life seems for me. After returning from Green Gulch, I now try to do at least a half-hour of zazen every day; I’m not perfect, there are days I skip or do less; there are days I do more. But I do it.
Now, to quell anyone’s worries that I’m going to show up at work with my resignation letter wearing brown robes and shaved head, I’m not sitting here thinking that I’d like to become a Buddhist priest and go live at Green Gulch Farm full-time. But it did open the door to a more satisfying way of living that I’m very interested in, and I’ve long seen Zen as something that might reveal that to me.
As a geographic location and a community of people, it was one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever known. I’ve always liked valleys and canyons, that feeling of being held in a world within a world, and Green Gulch is such a place. I shouldn’t try to describe it too much. But a large part of that is the community. As a guest and as a participant, I felt cared for; it wasn’t overt, and as I described earlier, I had to deal with my own issues of wanting approval and not getting it…but there was a core acceptance, and I think I got a glimpse of what’s really meant by “loving kindness”.
If you’re looking for a beautiful and inexpensive place for a quiet stay in the Bay Area, Green Gulch Farm might be the answer. Their guest program welcomes those who would like to stay even with no interest in participating in zen practice, and several people were there during my stay doing exactly that.
We do love our gear! But the checklist has helped us remember critical things like coffee making equipment, and luxuries like our tent stake mallet. The list has evolved from the excellent car camping and backpacking lists that our friend Joe Dyson shared with us years ago. I usually edit the list to fit whatever’s going on in our life at the time; this was the first list created with taking a dog along, for stays in both campgrounds and homes of relatives. And I’ve also tried to create it for a couple, so there’s columns for each of us to check off our own personal items.
In terms of buying equipment, I’ve developed one rule of thumb…you don’t really have to waste a lot of time pouring over gear reviews (although that can be an enjoyable experience in itself). When you need gear, just go to REI and buy whatever middle-of-the-road version they have…they already do a good job of choosing inventory that strikes a good balance between cost and features. The exception I’d make to this is for gear you plan to use for backpacking, and then I think it’s worth it to buy the lightest version an object you can possibly afford. If I ever get into backpacking again, I think I’m going to check out something like the GoLite tarps instead of hauling around a tent.
The most important thing is to get out there and have fun. Luxuries are nice, but obsessing over gear or being squashed in your car can ruin a trip…finding a balance takes some practice.
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.
I stayed at San Francisco Zen Center’s Green Gulch Farm for three days. Here’s the third installment about my time there.
The first 40 minute meditation period today was silent except for the voice again, which gave a longer thought, starting with “Full awareness” then continued onto something about the breath and suchness. My awareness tended to center on my legs, which ached, and set off judgments about myself and what I think I’m doing here. Both of my legs went completely numb (on a positive note, they don’t hurt if I can’t feel them)! and I was fretting about having to stand up eventually. I knew I could take a rest pose, but was inhibited about doing so. Finally I reasoned with myself that it was better to take the rest pose than to continue obsessing about it, so I did the quiet bow, unwound my legs, and hugged my knees while getting back into a zazen head space. It helped immensely, and went I went back to the cross-legged pose, I had an easier time of it.
An owl hooted outside. Twilight crept in via the windows at the tops of the walls, and we sat silent and still through the morning bird chorus.
Today after the first session of zazen we had just a short chant and three full bows, and then we all filed out of the zendo. On Wednesdays, everyone works in the fields instead of a second period of zazen and chanting service.
Everyone changes into work cloths lines up silently at the tool shed in the field area; once everyone is present, incense is offered and the work assignments are given. I was on the team sent to pick plums.
We’re told to clean out the old plums from under the tree and put them into a pile to be composted, then put the tarp down and shake the tree so the ripe plums fall, and gather them up into buckets. As soon as the person instructing us leave, people started shaking the tree right away and picking up ripe plums off the ground, throwing the rotten ones already on the ground aside. I’m kind of confused by this complete disregard for the instructions we were given, but decide that it’s kind of nice to not worry about it, so I join in with gathering up the plums. It certainly is satisfying to hear all the plums fall when a branch is shook. At some point, someone vigorously shakes a branch that I’m standing right under, and plums rain down on my head…it hurts, and anger rises in my mind. I see it coming and it happens again and I’m really irritated and angry; then I realize that since I saw it coming, I could have just stepped aside and avoided it all.
We pick a LOT of plums; several buckets full. Then bow out and are done until breakfast. This morning it was scrambled eggs with cheese and scallions and potatoes, oatmeal and juice. Everyone seems happy to have the boost of protein. I talk with some guest students and am getting to know some people here.
The routine continues. At the work meeting there’s an announcement that tonight at dinner there will be a gathering of gay, lesbian, transgendered, transsexual, and similar folks at the round table in the dining room. Bernt asks, “How about their friends?” The woman making the announcement replies, “Well, since everyone here IS their friends, I don’t see how that make it a special table.” Bernt makes a face and looks crestfallen and everyone laughs. She shakes her head, “I’m sorry, yes, that’s correct, AND their friends.” and everyone laughs again. Someone else mentions that someone has a birthday, and we sing happy birthday to him.
For work, we do morning dishes again, and I scrape again. I pay more attention to handling things and notice that there really is a lot of aching in my hands. It’s interesting to be in an environment of people who are so in touch with their own bodies…it starts rubbing off a little. I’m not very good about listening to my body, and I get the feeling that I’ll have to endure a lot of complaints from it as I try to reconcile with it after years of ignoring it.
After a break, we’re sent to work maintenance. We have to move some old wood to get ready for a new load of firewood coming in, and someone will have to mow a lawn. First we move some volleyball net poles for the mowing (they don’t play volleyball anymore…too many people twisted ankles). The poles are set into cement within old tires, so they’re heavy to move; we find Black Widow spiders under one of the poles and move it gingerly.
We move on to the wood pile; our job is to pick out pieces of wood with no treatment and no nails and load these into the truck; we’ll unload them into a pile that will be left to decay back into the local environment. Once the truck is loaded, two of us go to unload with Shojo and two stay to nail up corrugated metal sheeting along the sides of the wood shed.
We get in the truck and ride down the farm road and then back up along a path to a spot where the new wood-pile-to-decay will be made. First we’re given machetes to clear a small area for the pile; the plants we’re chopping down are poison hemlock, which looks sort of like a cross between cow parsnip and dill; it’s tall, over our heads, all green with reddish stems near the bottom.
We unload and go back for more; after the truck is loaded again, we switch teams and I help nail up the metal walls of the shed. Finally we do a third load of wood. It’s pretty satisfying how quickly we can load the truck. People here are very confident about needs to be done, and it tends to get done quickly, but no one seems to be rushing. No one is singled out for praise, and everyone works at their own pace. My mind likes to compare what I am doing, how much I am carrying, with others, but there’s really no sense of competition here and I’m able to relax and just quietly work, leaving behind the urgency to rush, to get noticed, to compete.
After work, I shower, change, and throw my work clothing into the laundry again on the way to lunch. Lunch today is soups…all of them left over from the past week…and salad; it sounds like this is the traditional Wednesday lunch. It’s a smart pattern…everyone already had a substantial breakfast after the farm work in the morning, and there will be a lot of cooking for Sunday’s special meals, so they’ll want the fridge space.
A woman named Allison sits near me at lunch…she’s a visitor for meetings with the staff about long-range planning. She’s with an architecture firm from Seattle and they’re trying to figure out how the center can evolve being ecologically sensitive to the watershed that it sits within; it sounds like a real challenge. Green Gulch Farm was a ranch before it was donated to the San Francisco Zen Center (SFZC). The zendo itself is a renovated barn which actually sits above the stream…it was designed that way so that the waste from the cows could just be dumped into the stream and carried away. Part of the stream has been diverted into a concrete ditch that runs along the guest house and past the zendo, and part of the stream is still underground underneath the zendo. In addition to wanting to do the right thing environmentally, SFZC will have to coordinate with several agencies and navigate those bureaucracies at every turn. It will be enormously expensive.
After lunch, I throw my clothes in the dryer, go to library and browse the books and magazines. I read some articles about whether or not dogs have a Buddha nature, and mostly just establish that I miss my own dog. I look through some art books to try find an image of thousand-eyed Kuan Yin but don’t find it. Afterwards, I browse the bookstore and am happy to find a copy of the zendo chant book for sale as well as an introduction to Buddhism. I still feel unsure about exactly what Buddhism is, what Zen is, and what I’m doing here with all of it. But uncertainty is a recurring them in my experience with it…with the rituals and etiquette, even back home at comparatively casual Stone Creek, it’s hard to know if you’re doing it “right”. Very little is written down to study; one has to accept that one will make lots of mistakes, and in making those mistakes, one can learn the concept of loving kindness by example in the subtle ways you are corrected.
The day continues, overcast and cold. Someone starts a fire in the stove in the center of the guest house; I read, nap, and write most of the rest of the afternoon.
In early evening, the fog finally starts to retreat and the sun comes out for a brief moment before ducking out of sight from the valley, and I decide to go out for a while. The deer are standing outside along the path, a young buck with just a bit of antler, and a small doe…they watch me but stand their ground.
Green Gulch deer.
I go up the path to the yurt that’s used as a meeting area to snoop around. I’ve been interested in yurts as a living space, and take lots of photos and just sit in it, imagining what the space would be like if Steve and I lived in one. This one is set up as one large meeting area, with small buildings on the deck for a bathroom, kitchen and storage area. I decide that we could probably make it work, but we’d need to have additional structures for office/work spaces. I love the big skylight, and the high ceilings. The lattice structure over the windows seems a little bar-like and might take some getting used to. It definitely feels more building-like than tent-like.
The yurt.
Dinner tonight is fettichine and salad, and lots of conversation. I sit with the person staying in the room next to me (she’s full-time guest, not a work-practice retreatant like me) and a couple from Tennessee…she’s a work-practice retreatant like me, and he’s a guest student living in the dorm, participating in the community full-time during his stay. She doesn’t seem to be a practicing Zen Buddhist, but seems to be enjoying her stay while her husband participates. It’s interesting to see how this works out (and nice to see it apparently actually working out)…it seems like many people come to zen as adults when they are older and already married, and their partner may not share their interest or have it to the same extent. I’m of course selfishly interested in how it all works out.
We sit after dinner for a long time talking; but I also want quiet time, starting to feel sad that my stay is coming for a close, and so excuse myself to go for a walk. I’ve noticed that the full-time guests are much more talkative, almost starved for conversation, than those are participating with the community on any level.
I’d wanted to go to Middle Green Gulch trail, but missed the turn and ended up out at the Coast Trail, going up a ways to overlook Muir Beach for sunset. A rabbit didn’t mind me passing him on the trail and sits, watching, before jumping into the grass after I’m already past. The moon peeks over the ridge.
I stayed at San Francisco Zen Center’s Green Gulch Farm for three days. Here’s the second installment about my time there.
My watch alarm went off at 4:30 and I had a brief argument with myself about getting out of bed. I’d already decided to make quick cup of coffee in the morning to drink before mediation. I think often of something I read recently which said that most thoughts are memories, plans, or judgments, and that in meditation it can be helpful to identify which it is before letting it go. My plan was to make coffee, my judgments are about whether or not I really need that coffee and what it might mean if I do. I think this can get a little obsessive. (Judgment.)
I make it Green Dragon Temple on time (I’m still working out in my mind the difference between a zendo and a temple; the “zendo” at Green Gulch is Green Dragon Temple).
Since the seats are assigned here, I stop at the door to find out where I’ll sit; a woman looks at the chart, considers who’s here and who isn’t, and tells me to go to the seventh seat on the left side; I enter, taking care to step over the threshold with my left foot as instructed, and bow at the bottom of the steps before turning to the left to find my seat.
This zendo is different from the one I’m used to at Stone Creek; the seats on the outside are all on a raised platform called a “tan”. One positions the zafu on the edge of the zabuton, bows, turns clockwise and bows to the others, then sits back onto the zafu and, pulling legs up, turns on the zafu (always clockwise) into position. I don’t think I ever managed it gracefully, but I got better at it as the days went on.
The meditation period is different than I’m used to, also. During the first 40-minute period, there’s a gong that sounds regularly, and some chimes at some interval. My legs are screaming but I make it through. Then there’s 10 minutes of kihnin (walking meditation)…somehow I end up right on floor board that squeaks with every step I make. Then another 40-minutes of silent zazen. During this period, a deep voice asks, “Are you awake?” I was…at least outwardly.
After the second period of zazen, we did a series of full bows, and then settled into a sort of kneeling position on our zafus for a chanting service. I liked the chanting service more than I ever thought I would. Among other things, we did Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo again.
At the end of services, we file out of the zendo silently, bowing to the person across from us at the bottom of the steps and crossing the threshold with the right leg. We line up outside the zendo in Cloud Hall, the dormitory. Those with regular assignments are excused, and Kate goes down the line quietly telling each of us remaining where we should go to work. I’m assigned to the temple, and there someone quietly shows me how to brush down the zafus and zabutons. We all work in silence, and then return to the door and “bow out”. We’re excused until breakfast.
Pretty good for 7:00 am.
Meal gong hanging outside of the dining room.
Breakfast is at 7:20 am. I think I might have gotten there before the meal gong rang, because I was there for the short chant done before Breakfast. I’m trying to get a copy of the full chant; I thought it was beautiful and meaningful. Breakfast was oatmeal, nectarines, yogurt, and a huge bowl of hazelnuts. Vast quantities of food are available and people take large helpings. I have nectarines, yogurt and hazelnuts, sprinkled with Gomasio and feel like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.
Kate does a short chant after the 10 minute silent eating period and then everyone says good morning (”Good morning Buddhas!”). After breakfast, we’re free until the 8:20 work meeting.
The work meeting is held at “the pool” — this is an outdoor area that used to be a small pool but is now decked over. Everyone stands in a circle, and a small incense offering is made at a tiny altar installed on the wall (there are small altars throughout the grounds, and work periods begin and end at them). Then announcements for the day are made. These range from reminders about special events or meetings that day to minor things like people looking for items that are lost or wanting to switch dish night. There was a humorous one this morning from a woman about someone apparently in her care (the name escapes me — call her ‘Sue’): “Sue has been asking people to take her for ice cream. Please know that this is not required and you should only do so if you want to.”
After work period I follow the other guest-practice retreatants and the guest students back to the dining room for our work day, which begins with incense at the dining room altar and bows. (All of this incense offering and bowing sounds really odd from the “outside”, as I write this days later — but it flows very naturally through the day at Green Gulch). Then Kate lets us know what we’re going to be doing. Today it’s dishes, followed by work in the fields.
My job for dishes is being the scraper. Pretty simple, just scrape all of the dishes into a bowl which gets emptied into the compost bucket. From there they go into the hot soapy water of the dishpan and on through the steps to the sanitizer. I’m surprised to find how quickly my hands cramp…I’m not sure I notice until I pick up the prettiest thing to be scraped, the blue crock that sits next to the coffee and tea for used spoons. I drop it to the floor and it shatters. Everyone is very nice about it of course, but I felt bad and have vowed, in addition to freeing the numberless beings, to find a new used spoon crock and send it to them.
To show me where to put the broken pieces of crock, they have to lead me through the kitchen…the “famous” kitchen as I think of it, though I may be the only one who considers it famous. In any case, I’m glad to get a glimpse of it; I’ve been too intimidated to peak in.
After dishes are finished, we sweep the dining room so it can be mopped. I notices that things here are not immaculate; they are in fine repair and basically clean. Great care is taken to keep things sanitary, which is of course essential to communal living, and I notice references to this throughout my stay. But things don’t have a chemical shine. It’s very much a working farm. I like the earthy neatness of it. I see spider webs in the wall corners and am not sure whether to raise the broom and sweep them out or not. I decide to leave them.
At about 9:45 we have a break, with snacks. Then it’s on to the fields.
I’m given the choice of helping to build a compost pile, weeding, and something else. I think compost sounds interesting, which I say, and choose that. The guy looks at me like I’m crazy and tells me to follow the truck that just headed down the road.
The truck contains buckets of food scraps…they say that this is the most they’ve ever done at a time…about 45. We loosen the existing compost pile and then unload all of the buckets and dump 14 buckets of slop onto it. Then I rinse the buckets and we carry them over to some palettes where someone shows me how to clean them, and I’m set up scrubbing buckets for the remainder of the work period. I’m not going to be able to wear my work clothes again before washing them, that’s for sure!
I notice a lot about my own thought processes while doing this work. I notice that I often have fantasies of someone noticing what a good job I’m doing, of giving me credit for doing something well, perhaps better than others, or maybe for doing it with a positive attitude, or anything. I’m constantly hoping for approval, to be noticed in a positive way. But that’s really absent here…everyone is grateful, I’m thanked for anything I do, but that praise that I seem to keep looking for is missing. No one else is getting that praise, though. The more I think of it, the more I realize that it’s pretty freeing. I don’t have to strive to work harder than everyone else or be nicer than everyone else…I can just do a good job and be happy with it myself. Still, I’m aching from bending over to scrub buckets for an hour or so, and from all the extra sitting meditation I’ve been doing.
The finished compost pile.
I do feel like it’s good work, and think that cleaning out my one slop bucket once a week at home wouldn’t be so bad. I’d like to have a compost pile. I dunno, maybe I just idealize this all too much. But it’s nice to think about the work I’m doing this morning turning into delicious food that someone will relish later.
We’re release from work a little before noon and I head directly for the shower, and then lunch. Lunch, oh how delicious: brocolli soup, spinach and spinach root with sesame dressing, and bread with poppy seeds…wonderful amazing bread. Spinach root!
One view of the garden. More fields and garden photos are on flickr; click to view this within the set
In the afternoon I read, nap, launder my work clothes, and take my binoculars and camera and walk to Muir Beach. The sun is finally making it through the fog, but it’s really windy at the beach. My legs ache, but the walk feels good. On the way home I meet local cat, a friendly orange and white kitty who runs over to me for petting and belly rubs.
Dinner is amazing beets, greens (collared greens I think, which were especially delicious with gomasio), brown rice, roast zuchinni, and cheese.
At dinner, someone has a large piece of chocolate and pieces are broken off and shared with relish. Someone explains to me that chocolate is a form of currency here. Someone else seems to have poison oak, or something similar, that’s discussed quietly. I’m told that the poison oak soap in the shower is Dawn dishwashing liquid…as a degreaser, it’s supposedly as affective as Technu when used in the same way (apply, wait for several minutes, then rinse).
Someone comes into the dining room and has a discussion with someone at the table…it’s Susan-the-ice-cream girl, evidently arranging another rendevous.
After dinner, I use a phone booth room to call Steve. There might be internet access in the library, I’m not sure, but I decided to stay off the internet completly during my stay, even though it’s difficult to relinquish that connection that I have over email with Steve.
The evening goes by quickly and soon it’s 9:00, and time to try to sleep to be ready to get up at 4:30 again the next day.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
