email exchange

September 21, from her:

Hi Koji,

I know this is random and I'm not sure why, but while I was attending the 7-day Osesshin at Tahoma Zen Monastery this past week, it came to me to invite you to the possibility of studying with Shodo Harada Roshi. Call it intuition. Roshi leads sesshin in February, May, and September on Whidbey Island north of Seattle. If getting to Seattle is a stretch for you, he is also head abbot of Sogen-ji Monastery in Okayama, Japan  This is my first year of practice with him, and my first Osesshin after having attended Kosesshins previously. The was intense and fruitful. While my practice is relatively new, I'm happy to talk about my experiences at the monastery further if you're interested.

I hope you're well.

Much love,

Luyen

September 22, from me:

Hey Luyen,

Intuition? That was practically psychic! You know, I've always avoided teachers. I think it may be a karmic thing; either a decision I made in a past life or something my teacher in a past life challenged me to do. Don't know the reason, doesn't matter. Anyway, the more I focused on Tibetan teachings, the more I read that a teacher is indispensable. To follow the teachings, you need a teacher. And I accept that, but I also accept that I'm not on teacher quest in this lifetime. 

I don't doubt that I have a teacher (a lama from whom I may have received various initiations and empowerments), and recently I've been asking for and looking for and opening up for a sign that he or she is out there. I didn't know what I was expecting. A voice? A face appearing during sitting and going, "Boo!"? 

And then I get your message. Not that I think your teacher is my teacher, but I got the uncanny feeling that that's how it can happen. When I've gotten through obscurations to finding or wanting a teacher in a future life and I'm ready for a teacher again, the universe will out of the blue send someone to point the way. 

I mean, seriously, I didn't even know that you were involved in zen. I'm not even sure what you know about me to have sent that message. But I'd love to hear what brought you to the teachings and what you've been learning and experiencing, and what you like about your teacher and that monastery.

much love and gratitude *palms together*

September 24, from her:

Hi again Koji,

To start, I was in the middle of yaza when I was guided to pass on the invitation for you to study with Shodo Harada Roshi. The complete message was "Tell Koji about Shodo Harada Roshi. He needs him more now than he realizes." Having returned from the retreat, there was a little resistance to emailing you out of the blue with the invite, but I've had some practice in getting over my discomfort of passing on messages. Ultimately, if I can be of service to those here in this lifetime with no harm coming to myself or others, I can support this process.

Japanese zen found me. I was not and had not been actively seeking it, and there is nothing linear nor academic about my path to it. Several years ago I was guided with a WA city and phone number in a dream while on Christmas vacation in FL. Come to find out it was for a koan salon group. (At the time I had no idea what a koan was, much less what they were used for.) I was on a waitlist for a year before they opened up a second group with whom I was invited to sit with and continue to do so now.

Almost a year ago, I had another dream providing more guidance. The next morning there was an invite, from a woman in my koan group, in my email box to study with the Roshi. After some ungrounded emotional rollercoaster processing and some grounded inwardness, I settled into applying for a Kosesshin figuring it would be beneficial training to help me build energetic stamina for the bodywork I do for a living. Little did I know what was forthcoming.

A couple months later, again while on Christmas vacation in FL, my mom introduces me to an acupuncturist while we're visiting her Vietnamese Buddhist temple. After learning my name she shares that my name had been showing up recently in her dreams of Japan, and that she's to help me with my health, and any questions I may have. I'm blessed that my health has been on the upswing since I began adhering to the diet she provided for my body type. Additionally, she's been awesome with support since I've been on this path.

It was after my first full day of Kosesshin last February that I knew I had found a teacher. He made eye contact with me after kaichin and evening sutras in the kitchen and that was it. What?!?! The moment blew my mind. I hadn't even spoken with him yet when that happened. Although, when I look back, I'm sure I was being assessed all day long as I tried to quickly learn all the rules and assimilate to the monastery schedule that first day.

An interesting side note... After the acceptance of my application to attend that Feb Kosesshin (my 1st one ever) there was an email sent indicating that I was likely not to receive sanzen with the Roshi since it was a Kosesshin and one needed to attend a Osesshin before receiving sanzen. I expressed that I would be honored if it was to happen; however, I wouldn't be disappointed if it didn't happen. There was an additional response explicitly stating there was a strong sense that I would not receive sanzen when I attended. It was no matter, because I already knew unequivocally then that I would receive sanzen. This was all a bit baffling, because I truly had no idea what I was getting myself into, yet I knew not to believe what I was being told. Turns out I was an exception to the rule and did receive sanzen that Kosesshin.

As I mentioned previously, this is my first year with the Roshi, so my experience is limited. So far he's been a good and kind teacher to me, which I believe has helped me and my husband of Catholic faith ease into my experiences with Rinzai zen. As I understand from others his approach has softened over the years making him much nicer than a number of other teachers in the US. Although, I hear he is rigid and strict when in Sogenji. 

​

I've learned that no one shows up at the monastery by accident. Its amazing dynamics aren't for everyone, and it's not easy. Within the sangha, everyone is helping everyone move stuff. Experiencing a breakthrough during zazen the 5th day of this silent Osesshin, it was interesting to silently note later in the day those who saw me going through it and gave me the space to process. 

Post-Osesshin, something Roshi said to me in my first-ever sanzen plus snippets from daily Osesshin Teishos, interactions with other Osesshin attendees, and my 2nd sanzen this last go round all arose to help me put some pieces together. It was a fantastic "Aha!"moment. I'm learning, and it's why I will continue to study with the Roshi.

All in all, I'm on this amazing journey that is way beyond me. If you have any thoughts or feedback, I'm open. I do know that you were connected to a Vietnamese Buddhist monastic tradition (Thich Nhat Hahn) and that's it. If you care to share any of your experiences I'd love to hear about them. 

gassho _/\_ with love,

Luyen

By the way, this is as lovely a way to reconnect with you than I could have ever imagined. :)

October 3, from me:

Wow, I'm still trying to absorb all this. It's a great and amazing path you're on and I'm so glad and in wonder that you've gotten on it. 

I don't know if you know this, but when we met back at Oberlin some 25 years ago, I was just starting on my path and my gateway was Japanese zen. When I took classes in Japanese history and religion, I read about zen Buddhist philosophy and it was like hearing back what I was already formulating as a belief system. 

It was in my dorm room at Third World House, where we goofed off quite a bit as I remember, where I first developed my initial sitting practice. My guide was this book: http://lumsa.tripod.com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderfiles/zen_mind_beginners_mind.pdf which I still highly recommend. I didn't have a sitting cushion so I sat on a pile of dirty laundry, and for incense I stole sand from the Oberlin golf course, filling an aluminum container for Ouzo to burn it in. Even 10 minutes was hard initially!

I suppose it was personal, being "religion" and all, so I wouldn't be surprised if it never came up in our discussions. But I can't help smile that it's Japanese zen that found you, Rinzai zen for that matter, and now you're throwing around Japanese zen terms like we're talking shop. No idea what "yaza" is, tho'. If you had capitalized it, I would have thought it was a town in Washington. "I was in the middle of Yaza, waiting for the light to change, when I was guided . . . "

On the other hand, I suppose you'd only assume I'd know Japanese terminology if I did mention such things back then. But back then, there was no internet and I had no idea how to pursue proper study. Even what study was. I had no idea there were monasteries in the states. I seriously thought I had to find my way to Japan, get fluent in the language, find out about a monastery and then find my way there, and then sit outside the gate until someone invited me in. That's how I thought it was done *head hits desktop*.

I did have a belief, though, back then that the universe would help me along the way. And maybe it has. Maybe roaming around teacher-less in a spiritual desert is a necessary part of my (and anyone's) path. But that's just interpretation and in my idealized vision of the path, the universe would act more like the way it has treated you to get you on the path, and it also makes me smile that it has guided you the way it has! That's some amazing shit!

Social media, internet, invitations, even dreams . . . but no, my path is the way it should be. I'm more inclined to think the Roshi's teachings are not necessarily what I need more than I realize, although it may be so on different levels, but that I needed to hear from you more than I (or you) realize. So I thank you. I was directly asking for a message and as far as I'm concerned you delivered a response when I really didn't expect one.

Like I said, I've eschewed teachers as a pattern. That's just me in this lifetime. I'm just stubbornly trying to figure it out for myself and stay open to any Theravada, Mahayana and Vajrayana teachings that I deem useful, and keep re-reading those books in lieu of a teacher, gleaning new insights as I get more experience. 

But all through my life there have been certain constants which make wandering in a teacher-less desert make perfect sense. There's a certain degree of destiny involved, as well as my own making sure my story ends this certain way. I don't deny there are a lot of seemingly negative elements in my approach and personality that I'm doing nothing to transform and will have to face in future lifetimes. Recently I've had indications of future lives in Korea. Instead of past life resonances, they are future life resonances. 

That all said, since you mention that you're new to this, I hope it's useful to hear that it is worth it to stick with it for the long haul. Even without a teacher, struggling to figure out what this sitting and mindfulness thing is is the only thing I don't regret living as long as I have. Even wandering in the desert, sitting every day (or the idea of it, since disruptions of varying lengths of time are inevitable) for years into decades leads to an indescribable transformation and understanding of the self and the universe, the mind and reality. Cultivating wisdom and compassion to everything and everyone surrounding is an unspeakable treasure. 

Sometimes the transformation is subtle. Sometimes even a root problem is subtle and you don't take it on because you don't recognize it, but then . . . you do. Like, for instance, anger. Anger comes up and it just happens with work, or colleagues or partners or kids, and you just accept it because that's what's happening. Something happens and you get angry, what can you do about it? 

But then you recognize it as a problem, and you become mindful of it as a problem and that you can tackle it. Mindfulness of the problem starts changing it from reality to perception and to something you can transform. Without a teacher, it took a long time for me to figure that one out. Years into decades.

There will be hard times. There has to be hard times or you're doing something wrong. But if you've found a teacher that you trust, that's a great foundation. But the teachings are more important and are always above the teacher (if the teacher is more important, it's a cult). Hearing you after only a year of practice, I'm already envious. But very, very happy for you. Keep doing good!

much love,

koji

I retract things in my last post regarding my cousin. They were immediate impressions and observations, perhaps frustration, but they miss our long-standing past and connection.

She came up to Taipei again without her kids and we got together just she and I, and everything was different. She ended up shaking the foundation of my existence in a way few have done before. She didn't mean to, she wasn't trying to. It's a specific chord that she managed to hit by accident.

She still doesn't know what chord she hit. I don't know if she saw my hand shaking or if she knew I sat back in my chair and froze because if I didn't I wouldn't be able to hold back tears. Or a tear. There may have been only one. But she noticed something and stopped and let me get composed.

We were talking about our relationship through the years and how I'd always been there for her when she needed me. But when her husband admitted he was having an affair, she didn't come to me. She didn't call, she didn't tell me.

I knew that when she finally did tell me, I had asked her why she didn't call me and I remember that she gave me a satisfactory answer, but I couldn't remember it this time and planned to ask her again. Fortunately I didn't need to admit that I forgot what she said before because she brought it up herself. 

She said she didn't want to depend on me as she had in the past. She knew she could always depend on me for support and to be on her side, but she felt that was not what she needed. She needed to get through it without me for her own strength and independence. 

She outlined all the times before when she went through problems and came to me and I was always there for her. During her good times, we fell out of contact because she didn't need me, and I was fine with that. I didn't need to always be in her life. I didn't even go to her wedding. But if she needed me, I was always there.

But she noticed that I never needed her. I never went to her when I was in crisis. She was never there when I needed help. And that was it. She touched something she wasn't supposed to. She noticed. I couldn't articulate what it was, but the conversation stopped and she sensed to stop.

She doesn't know that if anything, my life is one big crisis, basically all the time. She doesn't know how conflicted I am about needing help or accepting help. Even defining what it means to need help or to even want it.

Even just the suggestion of recognizing I may have needed help sent me into emotional shock. You have no idea. You're not supposed to have any idea. But to even indirectly suggest that she might have been someone I might have gone to in times of need was . . . too much.

She placed a loving hand on a wall that is built with bricks of silence and suicide. But what she touched was a breach. No one goes there. No one wants to go there. No one wants me to depend on them. It would be a disaster. And I told her as much.

It occurs to me that she has never seen me vulnerable. This was the first time she ever even scratched the surface, and she got in accidentally through the back door. It's not like I have to be "strong" for her. In our spiritual relationship, we are not only equal but I posit myself below her in many respects. Respect, gratitude, love, intimacy.

But, wow, the things she doesn't know. She doesn't know about suicide; she freely talked about contemplating suicide when she found out about her husband, but in passing she tossed out the assumption that suicide is impossible for me. She assumed it, she didn't even pause and ask, "right?" (I had admitted that in my current life, I'm pretty much just waiting to die).

She doesn't know about the alcoholism, even though every time we meet she mentions that I've been drinking because she can smell it (she's one of those annoying people who can smell alcohol on someone hours and hours later). She doesn't know about the insomnia.

She knows about the past cutting, but she went into denial about it before and that's probably the status quo. I haven't done that in years, but she hasn't followed up or checked that I still do or don't, even as a joke. I understand it's hard. Even Sadie, who had noticed scars and assumed it was cutting, was surprised at the extent of it when she saw it all. I've long stopped trying to hide it.

So Audrey hit an emotional chord. And then she backed off. As she should have as far as I was concerned. She mentioned several times over the rest of the evening how I would hit her emotional chords and keep poking at them. Maybe she was pointing out how I wasn't letting her keep poking. And maybe that's so, but that's what I'm imposing on her. She doesn't want me to depend on her, trust me, it would be ruinous, disaster.

Suicide has been a part of my resonant mental fabric since an early age, and I've learned through the years that I can't trust to tell anything I consider my truth to other people. Layers and layers have been laid so that when my cousin lovingly suggests that maybe I can tell her? Not a chance. Thank you, but no way.

People trying to get to know me, getting under my skin. Remnants of people trying to care. But these are my issues alone. As Audrey tried to grasp what had happened, I even invoked why I ultimately didn't ordain as a monk at Plum Village.

She had previously hijacked my attempt to explain it during her prior visit, but I was finally able to impose it on her this time. One of the reasons I didn't ordain (or more specifically engineered my aspirancy to be questioned), was partly because of one important discussion with the monks about having to deal with issues.

It was suggested to me that personal issues would have to be dealt with as part of the spiritual path. And for me, mine is not a path that anyone else has to deal with whether they want to help or not. If the monks saw I needed help, they would be available to help. Audrey, I'm sure, would be willing to "help" if I asked for it and explained how.

But it's not "help" I want or need. It's the howling abyss I need to face and plunge into willingly and fearlessly to see what it is and put it into my karmic experience.

Walking with her back to Taipei Main Station where she was going to meet her brother to go back to Kaohsiung, she started to flirt with me (she had a glass of plum wine). She thought it was hilarious that when she would hook her arm into mine, I would stiffen and become visibly uncomfortable.

My reactions were purely visceral. I also review them as funny, but . . . different places, different progressions. And I don't see that sort of reticence as permanent. She can flirt, she can be intimate in the future and, well, we have long-standing past and connection.

WordsCharactersReading time

WordsCharactersReading time

Again I'm back at the stage where I'm trying to start wrapping things up. I have to decide whether to go back to work or whatever, and before I make that decision, I have to see if I can even stand being here anymore. Perplexed. Not easy.

Again I'm back at this wall. Again I keep stepping back away. But a very loud voice inside me is telling me it's not a choice anymore. I must do this. I have to do this. There is no or. There is no delineating reasons, no justification. I've lived my life, I know my life, and I simply have to do this.

It's my duty, it's my responsibility, it's my sacrifice, it's my destiny, I have to do this, I have to let go, I have to not cling to this ego-perspective by making the ultimate sacrifice for my soul, my karma, and my future.

If I entered the monastery, I could be doing good, improving my karma, but I would still be clinging to this ego-perspective. I would because I would know it. When I was at the monastery before, I could talk the talk and walk the walk; I could fool anyone but myself that I was still clinging to this ego-perspective.

I do think I've reached a point of transformation like none other before. For the past few weeks, I've been focused on maintaining a positive mindset and outlook at all times and the result has been pretty remarkable. I don't feel like I'm struggling with negativity as much as I've written before, and that has made me feel lighter.

I don't let things bother me. I have my armor on. When you have your armor on, what can bring any harm? Someone may do something that might otherwise make me react negatively, but I'm wearing armor and I ask myself, "What harm does that bring me? None, so why react negatively at all?"

I chase away negative thoughts by analyzing them, thinking "This such-and-such feeling/reaction is an unenlightened expression of my natural being caused by such-and-such afflictive cause". And I can always identify some afflictive cause for the negative feeling/reaction.

For example, if someone fails to get out of my way on the sidewalk and I feel a flash of anger, I think, "This anger is an unenlightened expression of my natural being caused by ego-clinging (or righteousness – I had more of a right to be there than he did)". Or if I observe someone in traffic do something stupid, I think, "This critical mind (or judgmental mind) is an unenlightened expression of my natural being caused by arrogance (or ignorance)".

I'm not sure I could maintain this positive mindset perpetually. Part of the force behind being able to maintain it is this drive to succeed this time. I am really facing it, often staring at the wall and realizing there's no reason why not right now. Right now, shut up, go! And I answer back, "Wait!"

And I know it might as well be right now. I could be making the decision right now. It's a wrap. Wrap up those last few things and go. Wait!

If I don't? Yea, it's bad. Really bad. Everything is bad if I don't do it. It'll be dire if I don't put it a good attempt. I'll have to do something absolutely crazy. If I don't do it, it has to get bad.

Now, or soon, because the time is perfect. It doesn't matter that I still have enough in my bank account to last a bit longer. Part of now is about the unbearable; part is about not wanting to continue languishing, lingering. Mostly it's because the time is perfect. Again. I know I've been here before.

Undated but in roll sequence (frames 25 and 26) so earlier this month or late last month, Taipei. Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera, Ilford XP2 Super. 

THURSDAY, JULY 22 - Frame 27

I chatted for a bit on Facebook with someone I met a few years back at Deer Park Monastery. He was an Olympic speed skater and he blew me away by his arrival at Deer Park, having ridden his bike from Oceanside to the monastery in Escondido, California.

After many, many moons, when he friended me on Facebook, I felt a little apprehensive since I ended up not ordaining and I'm just doing this ordinary selfish, self-absorbed thing, rather than making that final push towards enlightenment.

Enlightenment has its time. If it's not time, don't bother making the push for it. And both Dustin and I are simply on our own spiritual paths and we'll support each other when we can. The way we met was the connection and we are brothers. We don't judge each other, just give support and remind each other of our connection through the Plum Village monastic system.

I remember Dustin clearly at Deer Park. We were there with Joost and Brother Lai and those connections are solid and clear. They are my anchor if I go astray, but I don't think my path of exploring suicide is going astray.

December 3, 2004 - Deer Park Monastery, Escondido, CA. Me, Dustin and Joost (a doctor from Holland who volunteers his services whenever he could around the world, while also trying to elevate his spiritual level. great guy)

Blue Cliff Monastery

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

It was as if nearly four years hadn't passed. I went up to Blue Cliff this past weekend. Didn't jump off of it, either. Three of the monks I knew from Deer Park were there; two of them I was particularly close to, and the third also recognized me right away.

I was actually worried about going, even on the drive up. I hit a lot of traffic and then ran into a thundering hailstorm that reduced visibility to a few feet and slowed traffic to a crawl, and my first reaction was this was a sure sign for me to turn around and head back.

But then I realized, no, this was about right. There always has to be at least a symbolic ordeal on any journey, and I figured once I got to my destination, the skies would clear and it would be all rainbows and bunnies, and it turned out that was pretty close. No rainbow.

Such a short visit, but by Saturday afternoon, I was already in the rhythm. It felt like I had never left Deer Park, only it was Blue Cliff – a much smaller landscape and monastery. Time was spanning, and my departure on Sunday and then eventual return to Taipei seemed a fairyland away.

Those two monks I knew from before certainly helped, and our chemistry, for better or worse, was exactly the same as before. It may have prevented me from getting to know the other monks better. At Deer Park, I eventually gravitated to certain monks, but I was initially exposed to them all equally, so I knew who all of them were.

Anyway, I told them, and the community in less detail, about the troubles I've been encountering in my practice recently. Being with the community was wonderful – it did wonders – but certainly not enough, I shouldn't wonder.

During Saturday work meditation, I was aware of the chatter in my head, but I realized that in that setting, it was softer, not oppressive – happy chatter. In the outside world, the chatter had taken an aggressively negative character and would amplify just by being in the outside world. Negative karmic seeds would be fed and grow, and that's the advantage of being in a monastic setting.

It, of course, came up whether I was still considering ordaining, and I told them it was never out of the question. And they reminded me that the cut off age was 50, which to my ears sounded like I have plenty of time to decide – which was good. The Plum Village system has one of the oldest cut-off ages for ordaining.

Needless to say it was great hooking up with them and they did give my batteries some charge. I took exactly two weeks break from sitting, and they jump started that. I'm still unsure where things are going or how things will turn out, but I'm glad for the positive spin they gave me.

FRIDAY, JUNE 26, 5:57 p.m. - From the guesthouse balcony shortly after arriving and registering; main meditation hall across the street in the distance. That's a public road that splits the monastery grounds. 

8:26 p.m. - Registration and administrative building at the left. The guesthouse is off-screen left. Straight ahead leads to the monastics' quarters. Off-screen right is a little house that I don't know what it was, but that little stone fountain-like thing will locate it in other pics.

8:30 p.m. - Main meditation hall across the street.

SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 7:08 a.m. - Main meditation hall photostitch.

7:17 a.m. - Entrance hall. Thich Nhat Hanh's calligraphy above the door says, "Look deeply" and "Listen with compassion".

7:19 a.m. - The sitting rows are separated by gender. The main bell moves back and forth depending on whether a monk or nun leads the session. The main altar is by the window to the left with a teeny-tiny Buddha statue.

7:21 a.m. - Yea, so I don't know how I feel about this. Such a grand hall, but a puny Buddha that's not much bigger than the one on my modest home altar. Deer Park also had issues with Buddha statues. They had ordered an appropriate statue for their meditation hall, but then it was too big to fit through the doors. They put it up on a plateau overlooking the monastery and an arrangement of orchids was used in the meditation hall.

Reverse angle. Actually I think they based the architecture on Deer Park's meditation hall; they're very similar. It was designed by the current abbot of Deer Park who was an architect prior to becoming a monk.

7:37 a.m. - Macro photography, vaguely recalling the diamond net of Indra.

9:12 a.m. - Guesthouse, where I took the first pic, at the left, admin building center. Main meditation hall is off-screen right across the street.

11:50 a.m. - Another view of the meditation hall with other structures. I think that's "Thay's hut" on the left. "Thay" is what Thich Nhat Hanh is called in the respectful but familiar. I think it just means "teacher" and can be used generally. I think all of the satellite monasteries in the Plum Village system have a "Thay's hut" for when he visits. I've never referred to him as "Thay".

1:38 p.m. - Clouds start to loom, thus quote the raven crow.

3:15 p.m. - The much smaller landscape of Blue Cliff. Deer Park's surroundings accommodate weeks or months of exploration, but Blue Cliff can be covered in an hour. But 43 minutes later:

3:58 p.m. - Thus quote the crow: "I told you so".

4:23 p.m. - Listening to a dharma talk.

5:43 p.m.

7:45 p.m. - And there's the little house with the stone fountain-like thing marking it, making a pretty little picture.

Rainbow V 22mm lens toy camera. Kodak BW400CN. There's that stone fountain-like thing again. Earlier in the day.

Site of the day's work meditation.

SUNDAY, JUNE 28 - From the main meditation hall road, looking at the other monastery facilities across the street.

2:09 p.m. - A group of Koreans visiting for a few hours to experience the monastery and a sitting session.

2:36 p.m. - Preparing to leave. However, I delayed leaving because I was told there would be a visiting contingent from a newly-created Dharma Drum Mountain (DDM) facility just down the road. DDM from Taiwan, with whom I'd been attending sitting sessions with their Int'l Meditation Group. I knew the guy! I kinda stopped going after he left to return to the U.S. to establish the facility. His successors were Taiwanese and too "Chinese Buddhism" for my taste. Unfortunately he didn't recognize me, no doubt in part because he had absolutely zero expectations of running into me in the U.S., much less at Blue Cliff. I could see him trying very hard to place me.

2:53 p.m. - With Brother Phap Lai, who I knew from Deer Park. He's originally from England.

3:31 p.m. - Phap Khoi, also from Deer Park. He's been on the monastic path for many lifetimes and becoming a monk early was the easiest decision he made in his life. He's from Seattle and is one of Thich Nhat Hanh's Vietnamese-English translators when he's traveling to places where he'd speak in Vietnamese.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I guess I'm deciding to go visit Blue Cliff tomorrow. No one else is making or influencing the decision for me. No one else is making or influencing the decision otherwise. It's a short visit, and it's much closer than Deer Park was from San Francisco.

On one hand, from the point I left Deer Park to now, I don't know what to say. I don't know what to comment to the brothers. I don't know if I've progressed or how I've changed.

On the other hand, none of that is the point of my going. If monks I knew at Deer Park are there, they have no expectations of me. They'll be glad to see me in whatever state, even a bad one. OK, I'll go. On trust.

My favorite Taiwanese band, Tizzy Bac, has another video out. Again, incredibly creative and a great, intense song. The title is something like: "If I see hell, I'm not afraid of the devil"


And I learned that Shiina Ringo released a new solo album yesterday, so now I have something to look forward to returning to Taiwan. I don't know if the release date is the same in Japan and Taiwan, but I'm hoping it will be available by the time I get back there. I may even try to pick it up at Taipei Main Station on my way home from the airport.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Zero jetlag. I attribute it to the type of insomnia I had. It was even a bit surreal. I was expecting to feel something, as I always do on long international flights; as just about everyone feels after long international flights.

But I arrived at night in New Jersey last Tuesday, got to sleep at a reasonable hour, got a full night's sleep, got up at a reasonable hour, and since then not a hint of jetlag, no grogginess, no crashing, not even a sudden pang of tiredness at an odd time of day.

In fact, I've been sleeping totally normally without any hint of insomnia, either. And I've continued normal sleeping hours, which is odd. Usually when I'm here, I maintain night owl hours and go to sleep in the wee hours and wake up pretty late.

It wasn't promising on the flights, either. I may have gotten a couple hours of sleep out of sheer exhaustion, but mostly it was just twilight fading in and out. I expected not being able to sleep on the flights, since I also couldn't sleep on the bus to Kaohsiung several weeks ago.

And it was a long flight with three legs of flying – first to Tokyo, then to San Francisco (including a burrito run to the Mission District), then to Newark.

TUESDAY, JUNE 16 - Mission St. @ 24th. The plan was to buy a bunch of burritos from my favorite taquerias (San Jose (to the right in the pic), El Farolito, Cancun, Pancho Villa) down Mission St. to 16th St. and take them to New Jersey and stick them in the freezer.

10:08 a.m. - Took the BART from the airport to 24th St. station, and then back to the airport from 16th St. station. When I first arrived in the Bay Area in 1993 I thought BART with its cloth covered seats and carpeting was luxurious compared to the New York subway. Now they're just disgusting and the smell was unbelievable.

2:21 p.m. - Flying to New Jersey with a backpack stash of contraband burritos. Yo necessiiito mi burriiiitos.

Otherwise, I'm glad to be in the U.S. Maybe the sleep thing is telling me to get the hell out of Taiwan. On the other hand, I'm wondering what the hell I'm doing here, I have no place with these people, just as I have no place with family in Kaohsiung. And as I've scrapped moving to Kaohsiung, I don't see any reason to move back here. And I'm not looking forward to going back to Taiwan. Being in Taiwan was too hard. Existing is hard enough for me, add all that and that's pushing my mental health to the limit.

I haven't been sitting. Insomnia finally stopped morning sitting a few days before I left Taiwan, and since then I've stopped. So this is now the longest time I haven't done morning sitting since I left the monastery.

I'm taking a break. Maybe it was getting to be too much pressure to get something out of it. Maybe it was making me complacent because achieving this routine made me unconsciously think I didn't have to maintain the practice throughout the rest of the day. I don't know.

I don't know. I was thinking of visiting Blue Cliff Monastery in Upstate N.Y. while I was here. Blue Cliff opened last year, I think, after the Plum Village branch in Vermont closed down (I've thought before of visiting the Vermont center). I recently saw photos on the Blue Cliff site and some of the monks I was closest to at Deer Park are probably at Blue Cliff now. But I don't know if I'll be able to fit a visit in. I really should.

I'm trying to boot up the happiness meditations again, realizing that happiness doesn't come from external circumstances. I know I can be happy right now, I can choose to be happy. I'm just choosing not to. The reasons why I'm choosing not to are a little more complicated. I'm trying to boot up the happiness meditations to make sure they still work, although I still want to be unhappy.

Which is odd because I know the happiness is right here. Hm.

I took a leave of absence this semester, so I don't have to start classes tomorrow.

Wednesday, December 5, 3:59 p.m. - Taida campus. The sound of the camera's optical zoom sounds like a can opener (j/k, not really).  

The reason I took a leave of absence is because I'm going traveling with my uncle and aunt for a week, and then I decided I want to do this passport thing, this Taiwanese citizenship thing right away, so I'm going back to the U.S. in the middle of December. I decided if I'm going back to the U.S., I don't want to go back for a short trip, so instead of missing so much class, I'm taking the whole semester off.

I don't know the status of the band I auditioned for, but they asked me to come by their last gig tonight to pick up a CD of their live performance to get a feel for it, so that means I'm still in the running. I honestly don't think I'll get the gig, but in case I do, I want to go back to the U.S. now because they want to start rehearsals in January and start gigging in February. I can also bring back my cymbals, drum pedal, and PZM microphone for the bass drum.

If I get the gig, it'll be fine. I'll just continue classes in Taipei, and the gig seems like a lot of fun and good exposure. If I don't get the gig, it'll be fine, because I'm leaning towards wanting to move to Kaohsiung anyway, and once I have permanent residency with my Taiwanese passport, the only thing to keep me in Taipei is this gig.

I had a great week in Kaohsiung last week. Since so many of my relatives don't speak English, it really forced me to speak Mandarin, and I think living there would really help improve things.

My cousin has a friend that I met earlier this year who turns out works in a music store, so I already made some music contact down there. I even helped try sell a guitar to an American who happened into the store while I was there – maybe I can get a job there, haha!

I met a woman up here in Taipei recently that I thought had potential as a social contact. We met through a meditation group, so we had that in common to connect with, but in our most recent meet-up, the truth came out. No way.

Yeah, that's it. No way. It was our third meeting, and our first two meetings were like she was refraining herself as anyone should when getting to know someone, being tactful and finessing. This time I got a glimpse of what she's probably really like. Inflexible, egotistical, and arrogant in her practice.

After a while I had nothing to say to her, because she's always right. And I don't doubt that she is always right. I just have nothing to contribute to someone who has already decided is always right, and as soon as someone disagrees with her, they're wrong.

For example when discussing what someone else thinks (which for me is something we can never really be sure of), her exact words were, "I know, I just know". OK. Maybe she does. Maybe she's right. But she wouldn't even entertain any doubts or any other perspective or explanation to suggest she might be wrong, and to me there's something wrong with that. It's inflexible, and whenever you have inflexibility, you have intolerance and dogma.

She's dogmatic about the practice, and I'm not into dogma. If you talk to me about dharma from a dogmatic point of view, I'm bored. She even listened to me only with dogmatic ears, so she wasn't really listening to me. And worst of all, she thinks she's open-minded and liberal about the dharma, but she's simply not.

The monastery this practice is affiliated with is Dharma Drum Mountain. Of the four major systems in Taiwan, this attracts me the most because it's Zen, and closely resembles the Plum Village system that I found so attractive in the U.S.

I found out that the Plum Village branch monastery in Vermont has closed, and relocated to upstate New York, just an hour and a half from where my parents live. They're in retreat now, so I don't know if I can visit for just a weekend, but I think I'll try to make contact with them and see. Maybe I'll stay for a week. And as monastics are shuffled among the branches, maybe I'll run into some that I knew at Deer Park. It's been more than a year since I last made contact.

Regarding practice, I agree about the importance of finding a teacher, but I think in a past lifetime I had a break from that system, and now I'm wandering a while before I go back. I'm not looking for my teacher in this lifetime, and I'm pretty sure I won't find that person in this lifetime. Or if I found him or her, for example Madoka or Nobuko, I wouldn't recognize her as my teacher. Not Nobuko, she's more very close dharma friend, not even speaking dharma in this lifetime.

As such, since I entered a gate through Thich Nhat Hanh's Plum Village monastic system, I accept him as my nominal teacher. I never met him and although his writings are lovely and wonderful, they don't blow me away. So even while practicing with Dharma Drum Mountain, I consider Thich Nhat Hanh as my teacher, and Plum Village/Deer Park as my home monastery. It's just like that.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 9:20 a.m. - Dharma Drum Mountain practice center in Beitou District.

10:39 a.m. - Danshui township.

11:08 a.m.

Pentax ZX-5n, Ilford XP2 Super. All of the black & white pics this month are from one roll that came back really contrast-y. I don't know if it was in the C-41 processing (the negatives) or in the scanning to CD (the person scanning/scanner settings), I honestly know nothing about the process. It made the pics hard to work with, but you work with what you get, badda-bing:

Beitou:

Danshui:

Mt. Guanyin across the mouth of Danshui River in Bali township.

The first thing I have to do is stop saying that Taipei sucks and that the Chinese are stupid. The fact is that my life sucks and I'm stupid. Taipei is a really interesting place, and Chinese culture, Taiwanese style, has its merits and shortcomings just like any other. It's only because I'm unhappy that I feel this way.

I left my job because I was unhappy with the job. But no, the reason why I was miserable at the job was because I was unhappy with myself. I think about the job, I think about my attitude, and I'm pretty sure I was more unhappy with myself than I was with the job.

Then I left San Francisco. Yes, I was unhappy with San Francisco. There were a lot of good things, but I didn't like the weather, the cold, the fog, and it never got hot, and I couldn't get anything going in San Francisco. Oh, I guess I was unhappy with myself. I was just in a holding pattern, going around in circles.

Which in of itself isn't a bad thing. The reason why I like the idea of reincarnation is that all around me in nature I see cycles. So it makes sense to me that as natural beings, our lives exist in cycles.

Money, however, is linear. It comes in from one source, and goes out through another way. Like food comes in one end, and goes out another way. I hope the metaphor here isn't being missed, but that was a prime mover, too, in my leaving San Francisco. Money wasn't renewing itself in cycles. Capitalist economics are not natural.

Then I left the monastery, the happiest, most peaceful place I've ever found. I was unhappy with the monastery? I'm not sure I can say that. I pointed to things that was unhappy with as an excuse to leave and not go back, but if I'm not happy with myself, I'm not going to be happy wherever I go.

Then I left New Jersey, which needs no unhappiness discussion, and default ended up in Taiwan. Just because that's where my parents are from. And I have extended family here, who have all been fabulously useless to me in just about every respect.

Now I'm thinking of going to Tucson? Guess what's going to happen in Tucson.

If I can't get away from unhappiness because of the causes and conditions created by karma and this current life, and I'm not sure I believe in happiness anymore, I might as well be unhappy at the monastery. At least I won't be a burden to my family. Not that I'm a burden now, but it's the principle.

Accepting unhappiness to end up at the happiest place I've found thus far. Hmm.

But really, monastery needs to be placed back in the equation. Didn't I just say suicide needs to be placed back in the equation?

Pentax ZX-5n, Kodak BW400CN:

College baseball, Taida campus.

The most familiar stretch of my commute to school - Xindian riverside bikeway along the double-decker elevated freeway.

I'm declaring trying to learn Mandarin a disaster. My teacher, even at Taida, is horrendous and clueless. I'm not going to learn anything from this class or her. I'm going to learn just by studying on my own, which is not going to give me the practice I need implementing the language, which is the key to using it.

Returning to the U.S. has been on my mind for the past week as an absolute plan. I'm thinking of leaving in February, but that may be too soon. Maybe I should give Taida another semester's chance. I do have reason that my teacher is the exception in Taida, and that the rest of the teachers are better.

I'm thinking of leaving in May, I'm thinking of leaving in August. Yes, give notice on my apartment in February, find another place that I'm not allergic to with a six month lease, and if there are no improvements by August, leave.

Leave and go back to New Jersey. Set a time limit there, one month, two months, and then head out to Tucson with no plan other than the idea of finding a job and ignoring everything else in life. If that doesn't pan out, then I have no choice, enter the monastery. Entering the monastery because there are no other options is a perfectly valid reason for me. It may be the only reason for me.

The thing is, right now, I'm not going to be stressed about classes or failed language abilities, I'm not going to let that get to me, I'm not going to be negative about it. Break through that, damn it. I can sit in class and be miserable at the teacher. I won't. I can torment myself over homework and tests. I won't. This doesn't matter. I am me. It doesn't reflect on me or my being. It has nothing to do with my life.

I'm not going to do well in this class, just accept that. Maybe I'll leave in February, maybe I'll leave in May, maybe I'll leave in August. Maybe I won't have a choice in the matter.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2:16 p.m. - National Palace Museum. Again. Seems like I was just there recently.

2:25 p.m. - Riding through the tunnel between Shilin and Neihu Districts, but staying safe on the pedestrian walkway.

2:50 p.m. - Minzu E. Rd. with the entrance of the recently-opened tunnel that runs underneath the airport runway at the right, connecting Fuxing N. Rd with Dajia Bridge to the north.