Its is 7:00 AM when the plane finally lands in Frankfurt. It should be dawn but there is a thick fog hanging in the air and I can not tell if it is day or night. A freezing wind swirls flakes of snow from white patches that lie on the ground. The passengers on my flight walk from the plane to a bus that will carry us to the terminal. I focus on my upcoming Rohatsu Attendance.

I feel sore and tired. Due to the 6 hour time difference my body is functioning like it is 1:00 AM. Dazed and numb. I make my way through the long hallway to the terminal. I know these feelings are temporary and that eventually I will feel better.

The Frankfurt airport operates with German efficiency. I quickly clear Customs and board the short connecting flight to Amsterdam. There is a noisy group of young people on board laughing and singing even though it is only 9:00 AM. I stay focused and keep to myself.

Arriving at Schiphol airport in Amsterdam I purchase a ticket for the train to Steenwicjk. This is the most worrisome part of the journey. The trains arrive on the lower level of the airport. There are approximately 12 numbered tracks running parallel with passenger boarding platforms in between. There is a tremendous amount of activity and noise, On each track trains arrive and depart every 3 or 4 minutes. I see the platform numbers so I know I am waiting on the correct platform but I can not make sense of the destination signs. They are in Dutch and change quickly. My train is due to depart at 12:02. At 12:01 a train whooshes to a stop. Dozens of people get off brushing past me. I get on board not knowing for sure if this is the correct one.

Once aboard and assured that this is the right train I relax. It is a 2 hour ride to Steenwicjk through the charming Dutch countryside. We pass canals, fields, and timeless small villages. The cars are small and the bicycles are black parked by the 100’s at the tra2in stations. The only windmills I see are a pair of 200 feet tall, shiny steel wind turbines. Their slim triple blades turning slowly. Amid this rural landscape they look like technology from another planet.

At Steenwicjk a van picks me up for the 30 minute ride to the International Zen Center. It snowed recently and the whole scene looks like a living Christmas card. I have been here on two previous occasions but not in the middle of winter.

I am anxious to see Jiun Roshi, the spiritual leader of the IZC. I meet her when she was in Miami in approximately 1995 when she was still a novice and serving as an attendant to her teacher. At that time they were guests of the International Zen Institute of Florida. She opened this center shortly thereafter. Most recently I participated in a retreat she held in Florida in March for IZIF.

Finally, looking in the distance I see the silhouette of the trees and buildings of the center. I don’t know why but my heart flutters a bit. I have the feeling of returning home. Nevertheless, this Rohatsu Attendance is too important.

So many unusual Dutch and German names to remember: Piet, Petra, Jeroen, Marieke, Klaus, Garmt, Wieneke….. I am the only American in the group. The people are very nice they converse in small groups in Dutch and German but switch to English as I approach.

Several people ask about Juan and Macarena, friends from Miami who made this same journey last year. Someone asks about Lorrettta.

Names will become less important tomorrow when we move into silence. There is an announcement that the retreat will begin slowly with a relatively late 5:30 AM start the first day. The schedule indicates that the wake-up bell will ring at 3:20 AM on subsequent days.

Soan, my teacher in Miami, says it is best to get out of bed as soon as you hear the bell. “Don’t think about it, just get up.” He has always been right but sometimes I still roll over and pull the sheet over my head, to get another 2 – 3 minutes of sleep.

The Zendo, meditation hall, sits 30 people and is rectangular with floor to ceiling windows on one side. There are cushions along the walls and a double row, back to back, down the middle. When I started practicing 15 years ago I was always given a seat with my back to the windows. The teacher and senior students always had the cushions facing the windows. I longed for a cushion facing the window. Only later did I come to understand that when you are pursuing and inner journey one does not idly stare out the window and daydream.

Windows are important for light and fresh air. They also provide a necessary link to the outside world. But they can be a distraction from concentration.

It is after lunch on day 2. We started at 3:20 AM. It is below freezing outside and there is a dense fog, a layer of new snow covers everything. Perfect weather for the inner journey of meditation. It is a world removed from the blue skies and palm trees of Miami.

I am having mood swings of positive and negative emotions. When it is positive I feel good, everything is clear and I have energy. When it is negative, I feel sore and mentally dull. The world seems to be without color.

Day 3 is generally regarded as the most difficult. After sitting cross legged so long, stubborn muscles that once were soft and flexible become like steel cables. Recalcitrant, they shout: “No More”. They burn and tremble sometimes causing my knees to bounce and inch off the ground. During this phase I used to become afraid and think: “What if these feelings don’t ease up soon?” or “What if it gets worse?”

I now know that these thoughts are actually more painful than the sensations themselves. It is best to stay in the present moment and experience the sensation. It will not last long.

An endless stream of thoughts pass through my awareness:

AI think of my Mom and Dad still active and engaged in life at 90 years of age.

I think of Soan and Jigen who taught me and others so much.

I think of Marius, trusted friend, benefactor of Rising Moon, and his friend Rosa.

I think of Jorge, a 20 year old kid, who is running the bike shop alone during our busiest month of the year so that I can make this trip.

I think of all the bikes in boxes to assemble for Christmas and the mountain of helmets, locks and baskets.

I think of Dharma brother Dennis on his own rich spiritual journey to a Buddhist temple in Thailand.

I think of Gina who is doing an artistic tile installation at my house and coordinating the endless construction details.

I think of Sam whose mother is ill.

I think of Emilio preparing to go to Rome.

I think of Victor M. whose father just recently passed.

I think of the people I sit with on Key Biscayne: Angel, Robin, Jane, Alicia, Iris, Jennifer.

I think of the people who used to sit but stopped: Carlos M., Lucia, Alfonso, Allene, Maggie, Nancy C., John H., Gabriel, Mauricio, Barbara, Patricia W.

I think of my yoga teachers, Laura, Miriam and Veronica.

I think of John and Jean and the wheat grass I miss.

I think of friends from the Dharma House, Juan, Macarena, Augustin, Rosaria.

I think of the hard working woman from the raw food restaurant, pursuing her own dream of helping people thru nutrition.

I think of Jon, my friend from college whose first trip to Miami in 15 years, for Art Basel, happened to coincide with my trip to Holland causing us to miss a reunion.

I think of Elena who attended the first meeting of Rising Moon and then continued to attend every meeting the first few years.

I think of the Zen teacher in North Carolina who told me recently I might have memory loss. Or was it that the two practices which seem similar actually have a dizzying array of small differences.

I think of my high school girlfriend 45 years ago.

I name these thoughts and put them aside. I am proud of my Rohatsu Attendance. I must make a great effort to be fully present while I am here.

Take a look at  our schedule here.

Written by: Bill Durham