No Easy Answers
This past April, I was asked by Kushner Roshi to be jiki for our spring keishin, which would have a special emphasis on hara development. I’d been jiki for morning zazen at the Virtual Dojo for a couple of years, but this was my first keishin, and there was some apprehension and many questions.
I first started sitting zazen back in the late 90s as a part of my aikido training in Chicago (Tenshinkan Dojo on Belmont). My practice completely fell off in the early ‘00s, after my wife and I adopted our two girls from China, and changing diapers replaced time on the cushion.
Flash forward to one day late in 2021. Still during COVID, and feeling somewhat isolated, on a whim I googled “online Rinzai Zen,” and up popped Chosei Zen. I learned, to my astonishment, that the same lineage I had started with in the ‘90s was available online. Thanks to the Chosei Zen Virtual Dojo, I was able to resume my practice with a special online training opportunity titled Habits of Freedom. The training involved making a commitment to sit zazen 30 minutes a day, every day, for 90 days. The purpose of the training was to “take away every habit you had acquired since the day you were born.” I had just turned 60 and had built up a considerable number of habits–some good, some very bad.
Even more miraculous was the almost instant felt sense of community engendered online through our Virtual Dojo. Chosei Zen is, among other things, a sangha, one of the “three jewels” of Buddhist practice. The sangha is all of us, and that is what it takes to deliver our training. In addition to daily zazen, the Virtual Dojo offers much more, including: “Fresh Talks” given by our Roshis, book study groups, tea-time socials, and a semi-annual keishin, or multi-day intensive training, usually with a special emphasis on one aspect of our training.
As keishin drew near, the answer to my questions had not arrived yet. What could I say to inspire our training? When should I call for kinhin? If I notice some people looking straight ahead, eyes wide open—is that valid? What if someone falls asleep? How do my inkin and taku sound? Too loud, too soft, too dull?
“Jiki is in charge," Kushner Roshi said.
Being jiki, or stepping into any role, invites a deeper experience of our life together as practitioners. Even online, the “I” questions begin to dissolve. Leading virtually brings its own kind of challenge—managing timing across time zones, sensing the group without physical cues, and recognizing that behind every muted square is someone showing up with effort.
Our practice doesn't offer easy answers. Instead, it makes real demands–on our attention, our concentration, the sincerity and fortitude with which we engage it. Practice is communal. I learned that in spades during my first sesshin in a blistering hot 2022 Madison summer, where my exhausted and somewhat bewildered self was carried through the last three days by the compassion, the breath, and the energy of our sangha.
However, training isn't sustained by intention alone. Our community must be supported for us to keep showing up for one another.
Each June we fundraise for the coming year. As we share stories and reflections, we ask for your support in reaching our 2025 goal of $30,000. Your donation, whatever size, allows us to sustain and expand training at all our dojos.