MOUNTAIN of the HEART MOON

The Father sent me a set of Tibetan singing bowls to accompany my various meditations.

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As part of my staycation, I headed down to Olympia for a day of book browsing and banh mi, but primarily to go and sit in zazen with the community of Olympia Zen Center, which I learned is also known as Mountain of the Heart Moon.

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I did a little bit of internet research so I somewhat knew what to expect. I knew that OZC was a school of Sōtō Zen and that they were an "Order of Ryokan," the late-18th/early-19th century Japanese Zen poet-priest. I was intrigued by the poetry connection, as well as the fact that I understood Sōtō to have fewer "expectations" during zazen than the Rinzai sect.

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I arrived for the newcomer orientation before the formal sitting commenced and I'm glad I did. There was one other person there for the first time and our "guide" for the evening was Bill. Bill physically walked us through the zendo and showed us the various rites and rituals of preparing to sit in meditation—when and where to bow, and to whom; which directions to turn and face; what to "do" during sitting.

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I sent myself some brief notes immediately after leaving OZC. Here is what I wrote about Bill:

Bill was the best of guides. Patient. Honest. Genuine. Walking us through movements. Nudging us out of the nest a bit. Offering compassion and forgiveness. Modeling behavior. Nudging us a bit more. Gently reminding and correcting. Checking in afterward.

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Here is what I wrote about Eidō Frances Carney, the founder of Olympia Zen Center, who presided over the evening:

Eido-san was filled with holy fire. Demanding and forgiving. Scolding and loving with a simple glance. And, in the end, once the rites and rituals were complete, welcoming and affable, approachable after all.

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Bill had told us that no one would judge us if we didn't get things exactly right. And, I believe he was right. I think I was hardest on myself. During the beginning of the session, to whom did I initially forget to bow? Eido Frances Carney. I caught myself and turned to bow to her. At this point, this was our initial meeting. Not a good way to start, as far as I was concerned. I thought her look fierce, but that was more likely because of how I felt for missing the bow at the proper time. I bowed and got myself settled in and ready for the forty minutes of sitting.

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Bill had told us that the reason that the Sōtō schools sit facing the wall is to avoid unnecessary distractions. He also told the other newcomer and I that we would sit on either side of him, in order that he could model behavior and movements for us. When the moment came to sit, however, there was no seat on the other side of Bill so he pointed me to the next available open cushion. But I wasn't seated in front of a blank wall like most of the room, but one of two windows. I laughed inside.

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The "goal" of the evening was to just sit. In proper form, of course. But there was no koan to meditate upon, as in the Rinzai schools. There was no need to count breaths. My understanding, after hearing Bill explain what we would be "doing" during sitting, was to accept the thoughts that came into our minds and then dismiss them. Yes, Bill confirmed, this was indeed how to sit: accept the thoughts that arrived in our mind and then dismiss them, without violence.

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I was seated in front of a window, in a half-lotus position, hands lightly positioned in cosmic mudra, eyes downcast at a 45-degree angle and slightly closed (but still open). And I watched the light slowly bleed out of the sky. I watched the ferns of the yard outside the zendo dance in the wind.

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I found one yellow leaf on the ground to concentrate upon. I used that leaf to "turn off" other thoughts in my mind, or, rather, to accept and dismiss them. I used that leaf to "focus" upon in such a way that, via "training" of the Magic Eye books decades ago, I was able to sometimes make the ferns and their movement disappear. I was able to make the yard disappear. And, then, ultimately, I was able to make the leaf disappear. The window became a wall. Until I would think about the window as a wall and then the leaf would pop back into my senses, followed by ferns and wind and window.

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After the sitting, there was a ceremony that included chanting a couple of sutras together, a Dharma talk by one of the members, and then a time to chat with one another before heading home for the evening.

The highlights for me were the holy moments of the sitting. Of the uncomfortableness of body (my left leg went fully "to sleep"). Of turning a window into a wall. And of the wonderful hospitality of Bill and the rest of the OZC members who were welcoming, kind, forgiving, and seemingly filled with joy to be in the presence of one another, all while taking time to sit together in silence.