January 30 1999
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I wrote my last letter when I had been here about nine days; I am writing this one after twenty-three. The main change has been that I feel more settled about and committed to being here than I did then.
When I first got here, my life in the City seemed real and fun, and life in this monastery seemed cold, dead, and rule-bound, and it seemed like staying here more than a couple weeks would be running away from myself and life. Now, three weeks later, things sometimes still look that way, but most times the last few months of my life in S.F. seem dishonest, fearful, compulsive, lazy, lost, and occasionally desperate. Here, conversely, much of the time I seem to be feeling a sanity, an appropriateness, a wholeness, a sense of just doing what I am doing, and, most of all, a dignity that I hadn't felt regularly in a while. Sometimes, I feel energy radiating out of me and circulating within me (as one enlightened master of ancient times said, "Chi in the morning, Chi in the evening, Chi in the afternoon.")
One change in my attitude about being here has been about people. I gave my "Way Seeking Mind Talk" (a fifteen-minute history of my life focusing on how I came to practice Buddhism and how I got here) to everyone here and it was charming and funny and honest, and I instantly seemed to have become more of a real person to people here, to matter more. I also seem to have developed, to some extent, a position here as, big surprise, a smart-ass brat.
For most of the day, however, I am not talking with anyone, and all social interactions are somewhat controlled here. I initially found this oppressive, but now I feel that it supports me in going deeper inside. I have come to believe what I was told, that I ultimately need to be here to develop my relationship with myself, and also with things around me on a level deeper than personality.
I am feeling excited about Buddhist meditation. To sit on a cushion, hours on end, noticing who I am, being what I am, letting it happen, thinking the thoughts that I'm thinking and feeling the sensations that I'm feeling, noticing it all but not trying to change any of it -- I can't describe how it's been to "settle the self on the self," as they say around here. I know that many of you who are receiving this email and who have little experience with Buddhism are working towards being aware of how your minds function and not being automatically thrown by whatever pops into them; this is exactly the tip that Buddhism kicks it on. At home, I have a stack of photocopied articles and book chapters that talk about the mechanics of Buddhist meditation. I would be pleased to send copies to anyone who asks me for them.
The Zen Master General of events here, the former Abbot Tenshin Zenki Reb Anderson, has been helpful to me. He has been giving lectures on the importance of practicing love for oneself and others, in realizing the interconnectedness of being, of being upright in the present moment without tripping into the future or back into the past, and on peeling our mind's "imputations" off of our perceptions of the phenomena that enter our consciousness. Also, when news from the City seemed to be making me upset and a little obsessed, in a personal interview he gave me the suggestion not to wonder what people up there are up to, to not visualize it, to not make plans for April, and to especially not bolt out of here and go do something else immediately, but to feel my grief, longing, and emptiness in my body, moment by moment, without thinking about it, whatever I am doing. It was a helpful dharma.
As peaceful, right, and solid as I feel about being here, however, I see almost no chance of becoming one of the Zen maniacs who come here for a few months and end up making a life out of it. As much as I am "just here" here, I still view what I am doing as being connected to having friends, a career, and, generally "a life" in S.F.. And, also, it is often still difficult and unpleasant to be here. I watch myself longing for such simple things as a takeout burrito, a hug from a friend, sending an email, use of a washing machine, or a heated toilet stall (it seems to be a Buddhist truth that when I long for something and am aware that I'm doing it, it's just energy, and it is fine, but when I'm not aware, I feel a lack to things as they are and I suffer.)
In general, however, the cold, the hard work, the physical pain while sitting long hours, the spiritual challenge, the relatively low standards of hygiene here, and the religiosity which sometimes could mean more to me than it does are all genuinely fine with me. It's only when high levels of sleepiness and the predictable problems of community living (such as a kitchen manager who I perceive to be an anxious over-manager with me) get worked into the mix that I find myself to be unsatisfied.
A few notes:
* My hair is comparatively big right now. I imagine that it will get bigger before things all shake out. Also, I don't wear my earrings here, at the request of the former abbot.
* On our "days off" (every fifth day), I have been running up a mountain here for about an hour minutes. It's a super-intense workout.
* Tomorrow, we being five days of all-day meditation. I imagine that it will include boredom and sleepiness, knee and back pain, and some degree of direct insight into the condition of being and other such spiritual breakthroughs.
* For those of you who have contacted me and expressed your support for what I am doing here, thanks a lot. It actually does unmistakably correlate with me feeling good to hear support from people over the hills. I will say, I'm glad it's so apparently clear to y'all why I'm here. It's not always so to me.
Now it's the thirtieth day. I'm one-third done here. I have been having difficulty finding the time to finish this letter.
The sesshin (all-day meditation) was rock-out kick-ass. I don't know what words to use to describe it, but feeling powerful, peaceful, open, and high, appreciating things inside and outside of me, is a start.
I am reading a book that I recommend to all beings. It's called "The Zen of Recovery," by a gent named Mel Ash who is both a Zen Priest and a longtime A.A. member. His book explains both traditions and their interface, but it's actually more about deciding to really live life rather than deaden oneself to it. It's fresh.
Adam Coutts Zen Mountain Center 3917 Tassajara Road Carmel Valley, CA 93924 (However if anyone ends a letter to me with the salutation "with a Gassho," I am never speaking to them again.)