keith

There's an article on page 3D of the "Life" section of USA Today about the zen monastery (Dai Bosatsu) that I and my dad (at different times) lived in. I must say that it took me back. Have you ever had an experience that was so new, so radical, that every. single. detail of every minute was imprinted on your brain, making what was a week or a month or a day in reality-- seem like a year in your memory?

My dad was much more successful at the monastic life than I was. He was in his late 30s. He was ready. He spent two years there on that mountain. I didn't even last a summer. I'm young, impatient, ill-disciplined. I bugged out. My legs fell asleep. My back hurt. My nose itched. The mind resists change and creates distractions to keep you from focusing. I always wanted a dharma name, to be ordained, but I never achieved it. My dad's dharma name is Utekki, which means "Sound of raindrops falling." He got that name because he told Roshi that he enjoyed that sound during meditation sessions in that great austere dharma hall. The monks called me "Utekki-san". One of them always asked me to leave a cigarette for him in the furnace room (wood-burning).

I remember getting griped out by a monk for daring to brush my teeth while wearing my robe. For singing to myself while I washed the dishes. For countless things, because my mind was not Present In The Moment, which is the essence of Zen.

I'm glad I went, and I still feel great shame for leaving early, but maybe there is some honor in the attempt.