Probably my treasure of experiences from the 2013 Green Gulch Intensive happened at the end of oryoki dinner service on the first day of sesshin. Sesshin is a time of deep silence and introspection, and although there's no communication with the outside world or even your fellow practitioners who you've been bonding with over the first two weeks, this silence and solitude creates a very supportive environment (or container) that feels very safe.
Over the course of two weeks, the teacher, Reb, had been talking about prajna paramita, or the wisdom of reality, being at the heart of each moment. We can glimpse this wisdom or light or prajna paramita, without grasping tightly to it, by practicing the six paramitas in each moment. Welcome the moment and what it brings. Be kind and generous with what arises. Practice ethics with it, for example not killing or denying what is arising. Be still and quiet with the moment. Have a focused, concentrated effort with the moment. And finally experience wisdom or prajna paramita with the moment. It's difficult to grasp that practice is about practicing with the six paramitas from moment to moment and not only with the difficulties that arise and cause us to obviously suffer.
When my ex-boyfriend and I would have difficult arguments, he would tell me that I was not meeting him. This would upset me more because it was true, and yet I didn't know how to meet him. I would also feel like I wasn't being met. My body would tense up, I could feel my chest and throat contract. All that would come out of my mouth and throat would be screaming words. My anxiety level would be off the charts and I wouldn't know how to come back to grounded. I felt like this was how I could find the way to meet him, but it wasn't working. I then questioned my ability to meet anyone.
Back to the first day of sesshin and serving oryoki dinner. The oryoki serving crew serves all the meals in the day. We were the first crew to serve during sesshin which has a different schedule from the regular Intensive schedule. Instead of only breakfast and lunch service, during sesshin, tea and dinner are served formally in the zendo in addition to breakfast and lunch. As much as I enjoy serving oryoki (see the last blog post) it takes a lot of energy to serve one meal, let alone four. I love it, yet it is exhausting. It takes a lot of physical stamina as well as concentrated presence. By dinner time I usually say to myself, "I know you're tired, but now is the time to hang in and stay more focused than ever. Just one more service then you can relax." The Green Gulch zendo is long, and the servers begin by entering through the main doors, down three stairs, around the great altar, and then straight ahead like flying down a runway, before reaching Senior Dharma Teacher and Abbess at the other end of the zendo. Dinner service moves quickly because only two bowls are served and there is no chanting. My energy at dinner time felt heightened. We had a swift and clean service of wiping down the meal boards, which is actually a running full speed action, serving the first pot of medicine bowl, serving the second pot of sautéd greens, seconds of both pots, and hot water to clean the bowls. We were ready to bring the buckets for the water offering. I was the first server out on the teacher, Reb's side of the zendo. With my high energy, I felt myself flying down the "runway" trying to stay in pace with my partner server on the other side of the zendo. As I approached Reb, he already had his hands in gassho. I slowed my body down as much as I could right before reaching him, side stepped, bowed to and with him, and then placed the bucket, angled, at the edge of the meal board in front of his bowl. I could feel my heartbeat still heavy and fast in my chest from the runway. Reb moved so slowly to his very full bowl. I saw his hands on the bowl but I didn't see him pick it up. I realized he was moving much slower than I was and his whole energy/internal timing/biorhythm was at a much slower state than mine. I found myself slowing my breathing. I wanted to be as still as possible so he could pour the water into the bucket without spilling. I didn't want him to feel rushed to do this. As I watched his hands on the bowl, the bowl itself, the water in the bowl, and the deep blackness of the bowl and its water, I found such a deep stillness and patience of just being in that moment. I felt the arising of my service of providing the bucket meet the arising of Reb's need to move the water out of his bowl meet the arising of the water in the bowl needing to move to the bucket. I felt this stillness not just in me, but I felt it from Reb and I felt it from the water in the black bowl. This is as close as I can come with words to describing what I perceived to have happened, but I know that what happened is indescribable. It is one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever experienced. The thought that came to me after all the stories of what it meant came and went was, In the heart of stillness and quiet is prajna paramita.
Later I shared my experience with Reb in dokusan. I said it was the only time I know when I felt a deep meeting that arose simultaneously. It wasn't only about me slowing down to meet him and it wasn't only about him moving to meet me. We found each other and it arose naturally, and when the moment was gone, there was a new moment to practice with, so there was no need to hold tightly to the "success" of that meeting. In the next moment, everything in me slowed down and I bowed deeply to Reb. Then at my slower internal pacing I met the next pair with my bucket and their water offerings. In dokusan, Reb found my experience wonderful and wished me many more meetings as deeply met. Yes, and I wish for us all to have such deeply met meetings in our lives.
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