Tassajara

Time spent in the mountains, without hurry or concern for what comes next, is so nourishing it can be difficult to accept that one must eventually return to a different life. Leaving the safety of the expansive wilderness, our stalwart group of pilgrims approached the gateless gates of the sacred Tassajara Zen Meditation Center. After five days and nights away from modernity, even the remote sanctuary of this monastery was overwhelming with its luxuries. An always available tea and coffee station? I had many, many cups of tea at odd times during my stay, simply because I could.

I did initially feel trepidation, a vague sense of grief that our wilderness journey and the containment of our beloved sangha was coming to an end and shifting into something new. My feelings of gratitude overtook me when we approached the Tassajara Center, having known of this beloved place for so many years and also having used the Tassajara Vegetarian Cookbook since I was in my twenties. Nestled next to an abundantly flowing creek, the serene setting could not have been more inviting. There was enthusiasm and excitement amongst us, mostly for the opportunity to shower and change clothing that was now becoming substantially ripe, even from a distance.

Nurturing space

Tassajara is structured like a small and efficient village. The various buildings are nestled in the trees with meandering paths connecting the community. Garden areas with raised beds are tended to, hand-carved wooden benches invite moments of contemplation. There is a bridge overlooking Tassajara creek where one can sit, listen to birdsong and feel the deep presence of the moment.

We were assigned our cabins by a kind and attentive monk who graciously oriented us. She was a lovely invocation to our retreat with her flowing robes, shaved head and gentle demeanor. Tanya, my traveling companion and bestie, and I were excited to get to our room and shift into a different mindset. With so many people in our sangha, we had spent a lot of time getting to know others while also mindfully attending to our primary practice of silent walking. Being two busy working moms, having time for our friendship without cell service or wifi felt delicious.

We stayed in a divine and simple space, what they called a yurt, which was really a wooden octagonal room with an enormous skylight exposing the sky above. Two single beds, a sink, toilet and sitting chairs. We couldn’t believe the luxury.

The communal baths were gender separate and contained an outdoor hot mineral bath and easy access to the Tassajara creek which was situated directly adjacent. A most sacred cold plunge! We didn’t spend nearly enough time there, as it turned out. Village life kept us busy. But on our final day, we were able to devote a couple of hours in the deliciously nurturing bath house and creek, an indelible memory of being held by a space that touches one’s soul.

Bells, Bows, Zendo, Zazen

Our schedule at Tassajara matched that of the residents. Bells of all kinds and sounds would alert us to what was happening next. We heard large gongs and wooden drums periodically throughout the day, signifiying the next event on the daily schedule. Our first initiation to the day was at 5:30 am, when someone walked through the monastic village ringing the bell to awaken us and calling us to our Zazen practice. Meditation in the Zendo takes place every single day at 6:00 am for an hour, followed by chanting. I absolutely fell in love with the ringing of the bells and bowls. It is a call to presence. Taking a seat on one’s cushion and settling into the practice of meditation while surrounded by others doing the same thing was deeply impactful.

The other practice that Tanya and I both loved was that of bowing. While not required, whenever people passed by each other, or a new space was entered a bow was offered. Bowing happened everywhere–before entering the Zendo, the dining room, the bathhouse or bathroom–all these activities are invitiations for gratitude. We bowed often during our time in the wilderness, thanking the trees and creeks and mountains for providing us with such abundance. It felt natural and important to bow to all the humans who were part of our new sangha, giving us sustenance and nurturance with food, sacred space, practices of meditation and work service along with an environment that was exquisitely peaceful.

We always bowed to the monks and priests whenever they walked by or were in our presence. One of the most dramatic moments was one evening when we were getting ready for evening Zazen practice. Zazen in the Zendo is always led by a monk and as Tanya and I were approaching the Zendo, we saw our wilderness guide, Mike, dressed in full ceremonial robes preparing to lead our practice that evening. The impact was breathtaking. He embodied the years he was a resident priest with ease, his presence reassuring, his grace abundant. His effervescent nature in the wilderness was replaced with an easy solemnity and elegance that was completely unexpected. We all loved seeing him in his splendor.

Work service

Everyone works hard at a monastery. There is so much to take care of. The clothes and linens are washed by hand and hung on lines to dry. The enormous quantities of food that must be prepared, three times a day! Gardens must be tended and there is a constant list of things in need of repair. Guests are expected to participate and are assigned work stations, which meant we were all busy polishing furniture, sweeping the Zendo, chopping onions and vegetables or cleaning bathrooms. If anyone had specific skills, we were told that we could help in that particular area. In a previous life, I was a carpenter for a period of time and I was happy to find the wood shop, where I was able to be around all my favorite power tools, put a tool belt on, complete a project for them and work with the shop stewards. I loved every minute of it.

Friendship and Laughter

Tanya is the kind of friend I can fully be myself with. Having already done a Wildtender workshop last year, (www.wildtender.com) she was among the alumni who first received the invitation to the pilgrimage. If not for her, I would never have known. Her gentle, irreverent presence was truly one of the many highlights as we laughed at ourselves often for our various foibles and missteps. She is the embodiment of a boddhisattva, always loving and nurturing while having the unique ability to find humor in almost anything that doesn’t cause others suffering.

I have the deepest appreciation for our friendship, the laughter and opportunity to spend an entire week together in sacred practice. Part of any sacred time must include joy and exuberance. Without her, I would not have had the practice of friendship.

I only met one grumpy Buddhist the entire week. She was the unlucky person who had to drive a group of us back to our vehicles, an hour long drive on a bumpy, dusty gravel road. As the idle chit chat began, with people re-orienting towards contemporary life, I could imagine how she felt, listening to people talk about their families and work lives. When I asked her a question, and I don’t even remember what it was, she said, “I’m not here. I don’t exist.”

"Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything --anger, anxiety, or possessions-- we cannot be free." 
Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy, and Liberation.