This year’s summer retreat was held in the mountains southeast of San Diego at Stallion Oaks Ranch, near the town of Descanso. The ranch is rustic but comfortable; with 24 individual yurt/cabins, ample kitchen, tool shed and a large barn/meeting area. There is neither cell reception nor internet. No TV, No AC. In other words, the perfect setting to prepare ourselves for more effective Meditation in Miami.

This is my third trip to San Diego to assist Sandy. The local organizers are Doug Brackmann, a local psychologist, and Ken Small. They make a good team with Doug handling the logistics and Ken’s unhurried and broad perspective.

The eighteen participants begin arriving on Sunday afternoon and commence re-arranging the barn for mediation. Sandy offers directions on aligning the cushions into 2 neat rows with a narrow table in front of the fireplace for candles and flowers. The large logs that form the sides of the building lend the space a solid and organic feel.

During setup the ranch caretaker arrives to hand out a map of the ranch. There is a pool and a labyrinth but the highlight seems to be a 2 mile trail leading to a small lake at the foot of a boulder strewn mountain. She issues a warning about rattlesnakes and almost as an afterthought “there is a den of mountain lions one valley over but they do not come here.”

(During our week stay the only snake we we see is a rock sculpture snake that one of the participants placed along the lake trail.)

We begin the retreat after dinner on Sunday night, with chanting and several 30 minute periods of meditation. The sitting meditation periods are alternated with 10 minute walks thru the woods along the lake trail, Wake up is 4:30 AM and start in the zendo is 5:00 AM. There are one hour breaks for meals (in silence) and a two hour work period each morning. There are several opportunities  each day for interviews with Sandy.  The days end with herbal tea, chanting and bows at 9:00 PM.

Everything flows smoothly in a natural rhythm with Sandy making minor corrections as needed. On the third day there is an issue with a participant who uses a washing machine without permission from the ranch caretaker but this incident is absorbed by Sandy and we continue without missing a step. Day five there is an issue in the kitchen but this also is deftly handled and we continue seamlessly.

Then seven days are up. We have a final breakfast (with conversation) and begin the task of packing. I finish before the person who is taking me to the airport and decide to take one final solitary walk along the wooded lake trail. Thinking forward to my Meditation in Miami and all that entails.

I walk slowly, pausing to see each tree, to appreciate each flower, take in the fresh air. After crossing the wooden walkway bridge, I look up and notice something sitting about 40 yards up the trail. Immediately my mind labels it as a  “Rabbit”. But its too large to be a rabbit. “Deer” is my next thought but then that doesn’t seem right either. Then the animal gets up and instantly I know its a mountain lion. It moves gracefully into the brush.

I would like to say that I smiled at the lion; that I paused and snapped a photo; or that I just enjoyed being there. But the emotion that came up was fear and I immediately turned and quickly walked back to the ranch, feeling more confident and relaxed with each step.

“Hey, I just saw the mountain lion.”

“Really. That is such a gift. Sightings are so rare. Maybe you came face to face with yourself, Did you get a photo?”

“No, but we switched places.”

Please see our schedule  here.

Written by: Bill Durham

The threshold of day 3 has passed. I am no longer feeling tired and sore. The 25 minute meditation periods that had seemed interminable, now pass without struggle. During breaks, instead of retreating to my room for a 30 minute nap, I go on long walks outside in the cold air. I visit the horses in the pasture across the road or the snow covered Buddha in the garden behind the center. I feel energetic and alive. Everything has a richness and clarity. I begin to think more about Zen Traditions.

During her encouragement talk today Roshi read a poem by Rumi. ” Somewhere beyond right and wrong, there is a field, I will meet you there…………”

Work practice is part of the schedule. The jobs are posted on the bulletin board in the dining room. They range from arranging flowers to cleaning bathrooms or sweeping. I am assigned to wash dishes after the evening meal.

My partner in dish washing is Vin, a woman from Arnhem, NL. We make a good team working together in silence. We trade off washing and drying. I demonstrate my plate juggling ability ( I didn’t break any) and she pretends a pot scrubber is a mustache. These are welcomed moments of levity in a quiet and serious world. The mountain of pots, plates, serving bowls and utensils quickly melts.

When I originally saw the list of job assignments I assumed that making tea would be the hardest and most demanding. Tea is available throughout the day from 3:30 AM until 10:00 PM. It seemed like the Tea Maker and her assistant were always on duty. They were either brewing another pot of tea or washing and endless stream of tea pots and cups. They seemed to never have a moment to rest.

Much later, I had an opportunity to speak with the Tea Maker. I remarked that it seemed like a very difficult assignment. “I love making tea” she replied. “You loose your self in the details. Is the water hot enough? Are there sufficient cups available? Is it the right flavor of tea for the time of day?…” She had the most time consuming and difficult job and all the while maintained a wonderful attitude. How is this possible? What did she mean by “loose yourself”?

In the everyday world its called “The Zone”: being totally absorbed in what one is doing to the exclusion of all other thoughts and emotions. It is an elusive mental state with great energy, creativity and peace.

Formula One driver Ayrton Senna during qualifying for the 1988 Monaco Grand Prix explained ” I was already on the pole…and just kept going. Suddenly I was nearly 2 seconds faster than anyone else including my team mate with the same car. And suddenly I was no longer driving the car consciously, I was driving it by a kind of instinct. I was in a different dimension. It was like driving in a tunnel…”

Like distance running or playing the piano, learning the basic skills of meditation requires great effort. Progress may seem frustratingly slow. But one day, absorbed in mindful activity the self is forgotten. In an instant what had seemed laborious becomes effortless.

Much is left unsaid in Zen. Having the experience for oneself is what is important. Hearing about another’s experience is “like a finger pointing at the moon”. You can look at the finger all night long but until you turn and look up at the moon, you have not truly seen the moon. Still, some may not have an opportunity to participate in a Rohatsu, this brief description is for You.

Zen Traditions are rich with stories, poems and formal customs. That is part of the charm of being part of a lineage that goes back 800 years to Japan. There is incense and chanting. Wooden clappers, and bells of various sizes.

The most choreographed procedure is the daily interview. This is when the student meets privately with the teacher and is given the opportunity to ask a question or resolve a problem. The interviews take place during a meditation period. These encounters can be very meaningful. The beginning is signaled with 2 bells and several bows. The student then goes to another room and waits for another bell that signals “It is OK to enter”. The student then rings back “I am coming” before going to the interview room.

On the morning of day #7, in the quiet of the meditation hall, raw enthusiasm overpowering 800 years of tradition; a student suddenly jumps up from his cushion. No bells no bows. He dashes straight into the interview room. I can not quite believe what I have just seen. Several attendants race to the scene. I do not know the teachers reaction. Enthusiasm is usually held in high esteem but procedure and tradition trump all.

It is about 5:00 AM on the last day. We have just completed the first period of chanting and a period of walking meditation and are back on our cushions, The meditation hall is eerily quiet and there is a slight residual ringing from the 30 voice chanting and bell ringing which just finished. Thirty people breathe as one and stillness is king. The sun begins to illuminate the landscape outside and fuzzy grey outlines of forms begin to take shape.

And then its over.

Hilversum
Nitensleek
Eesveen
Hoogseveen
Zwolle

These are the names of the towns and villages we pass through on the train ride back to Amsterdam. It is as though, years ago, when the towns were named it was popular to use as many of the letter “E” as possible, or perhaps the local sign shop was simply overstocked.

I happen to be traveling with Rhinehart. I barely noticed him during the retreat. We are on the same train for 2 hours and then we both switch trains and he goes on to Germany. He is a concert violinist.

It is comforting to be traveling with someone who knows the route. After a few miles of watching the landscape we begin to talk.

He doesn’t speak much English and I speak no German but having been in silence for a week we don’t seem to mind if the other doesn’t really understand our meaning. I ask if he is familiar with my favorite composer: Arvo Part. He begins telling me about his violins. I write Arvo Part on a piece of paper and hand it to him. “Oh Yes! The Estonian composer!” he exclaims. “Bing” he illustrates the pitch of the note with his hand making a point about Part’s music.

There was little I understood during the remaining 60 minutes besides the fact that we shared an appreciation for several of Parts compositions: Frates, and In Memory of Benjamin Britton.

We reach Arnhem and it is time to switch trains. Rhinehart heads for the train bound for Germany

I am very careful here. On a previous trip through this station, two trains arrived and 150 people switched trains in 30 seconds. When both trains quickly pulled out of the station. I was left on the platform alone, head spinning, forced to wait 30 minutes in the cold for the next train.

Even though it is Saturday the train to Amsterdam is packed. I am in a car with two levels of seating. It is the 747 of train cars. I finally find a seat on the lower level near the door. I listen attentively for the announcement “Amsterdam Central Station next stop” but the announcements are in Dutch.

The train station in Amsterdam is huge and bustling with activity. I make my way through the crowd. Having been in a protected environment for seven days it is almost overwhelming. Once outside I wait a moment for a taxi. As the taxi turns onto the street I notice at least 10,000 black bicycles parked alongside the station.

I check into the small Vondel Hotel. It is located near the Van Gogh Museum. I have visited the museums on a previous trip. The highlight of my stay in Amsterdam is to be a performance by the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra of Mahler’s Symphony #1. This will be held at the Concertgebrau, the famed concert hall built in the late 1890’s and renowned for its superb acoustics.

It is late Saturday afternoon and the concert is not until Sunday but I decide to take a short 15 minute walk and pickup my ticket. I pass a coffee shop and stop for an espresso and slice of apple pie. It is 5 PM and darkness is looming on a cold windy afternoon in Amsterdam.

Sitting at a window table I feel safe and serene. A large number of bicycles are passing by outside in a seemingly endless stream. I decide to count the number that pass in a 5 minute period. After 3 minutes I am up to 172. Then 2 cyclists with white beards and dressed in red suits with white trim cycle past. Two Santas on bicycles! I stop counting and just watch the live street theater. It seems like another world.

Review  our schedule here.

Written by: Bill Durham

Three months have passed since my visit to the International Zen Center in Holland.  It was an unforgettable experience with many happy memories. But as time passes the serenity and peace of the Rohatsu Awareness have gradually faded.  The people, places and experiences are still in my memory though flavored with a feeling of fantasy.  This natural process of the mind creates space for new sensations and experiences.  There is a tendency to attempt to grasp onto previous experiences especially if they were pleasant.

A friend recently asked “Why bother to go on a retreat? When you return home the ecstatic feelings don’t last and you are right back where you started.”  My friend is partly correct: the experience dims.  But what remains is the deep knowing that in the present moment everything is OK.  A retreat is also a good opportunity to experience sangha (community) and feel the support of others who are on the same path.

The present reality for me is operating a small bicycle shop on Key Biscayne.  It is high season and the bike shop is humming like a bee hive.  Familiar customers come looking for help in purchasing new bikes or repairing old ones.  Tourists come looking to rent bikes or get information on the local beachside bike paths.  Kids come to adjust the height of a seat or handlebar, inflate tires or ask silly questions. “It doesn’t cost money does it?”  there is satisfaction when an old bike has been restored or the appropriate new bike selected, or silly question answered. “Everything is free today.”

The brisk tempo usually lasts thru Easter and requires full attention.  During these 3 months for 7 days a week the full attention is on the job at hand. There is no time for distraction.  No parties.  No TV. No newspaper. A typical day begins at 5:30 AM with an hour of meditation followed by an hour of yoga.  The yoga helps keep the body limber for long periods of meditation and elevates the heart rate. There is another hour of meditation after dinner.  In some sense it is a working retreat (but without the healthy food).

The only indulgence during this time of year is an occasional classical music concert.

Having owned the bike shop for 39 years there is a comfortable familiarity with the ebb and flow of the routine. There is scant cause for stress though this was not always so.

Twenty years ago as December approached I often became fearful of the busy work schedule that lay ahead.  Instead of staying in the present moment I projected to the future.  I became fearful of the busy work schedule that lay ahead.  For 3 years in a row I suffered terrible debilitating back pain during December.  Once in the middle of demonstrating a bicycle to a client I had to stop and say: “I am sorry but I need to go home.”  The back pain was so intense there was no other option.  I had to close the shop and spend 2 weeks in bed.

The source of acute pain can be mysterious.  Often the discomfort is such that the specific location can not be determined.  It hurts but you can not be sure where it hurts.  At other times the sensation seems to shift from place to place in the body. An ice pack on the right ankle might ease pain in the left hip.  I found that a Beethoven CD played at max volume could sometimes muffle the pain sensations.

My doctor could detect nothing amiss.  Tests were prescribed: x-rays, cat scans, double density bone scans……. Each appointment was an excrutiating excursion across town at a time when just walking across the room was a dreaded task.  Often these visits provided no tangible benefit.  Finally a doctor convinced me that there was nothing physically wrong.  I believed him.  Eventually the pain subsided.  I had already begun a meditation practice but I began to take notice of the beliefs on which the practice is based: The stand alone self is an illusion.

Little by little the stress dissolved.

Take a look at  our schedule here.

Written by: Bill Durham

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

Today it was 82 degrees and sunny in Miami.  That is great weather for almost any outdoor activity. It is also great weather for a bit of Miami Zen Meditation.

The rest of the world was not quite so balmy.  For instance, in Amsterdam today it was foggy and the high was 30 degrees.  That is an incredible 50 degree variation.  I have been following the weather in Holland because I will be traveling there on Thursday for  a Zen meditation  retreat.  I am a little anxious about more than just the weather.

December 8th is generally recognized as the date  of  Buddha’s enlightenment and events are held to recognize this historic event.  Since the Buddha’s awakening was preceded by several days of seated meditation these intense silent celebrations, called Rohatsu,  involve long periods of silent meditation.

I checked the website for the International Zen Institute in Holland.  The days start at 3:30 AM with tea and 3 hours of meditation before breakfast, another couple of hours before lunch,  4 hours in the afternoon, and then another 3 hours after dinner.  The day ends at 10:00 PM.  Zen student and writer Peter Mathiessen refers to Zen meditation retreats as “alternating periods of excruciating physical sensations followed by feelings of sheer ecstasy”.

For some unknown inner reason, even though December is my busiest month at the bike shop, I registered for the Rohatsu.  It seems important.  I bought a plane ticket.  I ordered a winter jacket online.  Gloves and long johns lay folded on the dresser waiting to be placed in my suitcase.  But even with all the preparations, feelings of trepidation arise.  Will I be able to sit in silence for these long periods?  What if I get a cramp in my legs?  What if I catch a cold? What if I miss the connecting flight from Berlin to Amsterdam?  What if I get on the wrong train at the airport in Amsterdam and get lost?  The doubts seem endless.

One thought gives me confidence: “Soan and Jigen Poor, with whom I studied for 6 years, have done this many times.”

Maybe I have never attended a Rohatsu but my teacher has.  While I don’t aspire to his level of understanding I know it can be done.

I leave on Thursday afternoon.  I hope I don’t  forget my jacket.

Take a look at  our schedule here.

Written by: Bill Durham