Gathering Again

Yesterday morning we had our first in-person meditation practice here at Boundless Way Temple since March 15^th. Nine masked meditators gathered in the garden, placing our cushion and camp chairs in a wide circle in the designated spots. The rain that had been heavier early in the morning had let up to a light drizzle but we were a motley looking crew in our multi-colored raincoats, ponchos and umbrellas. But we were delighted to be together.

We began with a short chanting service, sung softly behind our masks. Then the meditation period itself began with the sounding of our traditional bowl bells which were sitting, gather rainwater perched on cushions protected by plastic bags. The three bell sounds carried softly through the lush green garden. We sat together in silence and stillness in our lovely open-air garden cathedral. The trees sheltered us and the rain blessed us.

Of course silence is never without sound. Even inside a quiet room the subtle sounds of breathing and digesting and blood pumping and the hum of distant life all bounce and play in the particular shape created between the walls. But outside, when you are still and silent, you can begin to perceive the fullness of the world’s endless and subtle sounds. In the Temple garden the waterfall’s happy gurgle, the bird’s call, the rain drops landing on innumerable tree leaves, and the sound of cars like distant waves crashing on the beach are all effortlessly received by our still ears.

We sat together in the drizzle—nine enthusiastic wayfarers happy to be together in the familiar silence of our Zen practice. We call it practice not because we’re preparing for the performance, but rather because it is how we remember and appreciate the sacredness of life. Meditation is both the path toward greater life and a full expression of that greater life itself. And, in the Zen tradition, we often do it together.

This together-stillness was one of the most surprising things for me about Zen meditation when I began some forty years ago. At first, it seemed quite silly to get together to do nothing. I was put off by all the ‘rules’. When you go into a meditation hall, you’re not supposed to talk or look around or, once the bells have rung, even move. I wondered why we even bothered to get together. Why not meditate alone and then we wouldn’t have to obey all these rigid rules?

But it turns out that we human beings are pack animals, we sense and appreciate each other’s presence. The human heart produces and senses electromagnetic pulses. Your heart and my heart sense each other, touch each other and comfort each other. This unspoken connection can become quite apparent in the silence and stillness of Zen meditation.

The physical distancing that we have had to practice for almost six months now has deprived us of much of this necessary nourishment. The human encouragement of proximity. Babies need to be held and touched and seen to grow and flourish. Humans of all ages need to be in the presence of each other to reassure and recalibrate our central nervous systems.

But being the creative creatures we are, we have all found work-arounds in this time of anxious distancing. Our Boundless Way Temple Zen community has continued our regular meditation schedule on Zoom. We sit together almost every day from all around the country. It’s encouraging to see all the people at home in their Zoom boxes on my computer screen, but it’s not the same as in person.

So now, while the weather is still warm, we’re beginning to find ways to be in each other’s presence outdoors using masks and distancing to protect ourselves and each other. Like yesterday. We sat still under the canopy of the Temple garden trees and did our best, each one of us, to be present to life. It is a mighty challenge after a lifetime of thinking and planning to simply let things be and notice what is already here. It is also a relief after a lifetime of thinking and planning to simply let things be and notice what is already here.

We’re having another small group meditation practice this morning, but mostly we’ll still be virtual for the coming months. But even if you can’t come to the Temple for our next in-person meditation, you can appreciate the beating hearts of the people around you. Beneath the drama and challenges of day-to-day life, we can notice the subtle and life-giving connections to those we live with, to those we pass by hidden by masks and especially to the beating heart of the universe that intimately contains, encourages and sustains us all.