My Back Yard Zendo

There was a different space at a different time. I moved into a beautiful new office less than a year ago and established a small wellness center. I shared the space with health care colleagues who offered massage, Ayurveda coaching, Trager bodywork, and Psychotherapy. I loved the people in the tall condominium building who greeted me daily. Receptionists, maintenance people, residents. We had chats and shared smiles. I enjoyed the fresh flowers in the lobby and shared smoothies with the mail carrier, Chris, an extremely affable young man who always wore a smile. Sharing. Having a community of casual friends. The meditation group, Mindfulness Community of Columbus, met there in that space weekly. We shared the practice and the teachings of our dear teacher, Thich Nhat Hanh.  So much sharing. Joyfully together.

And, then it all disappeared.

Covid-19 sent me home. Alone. Except for my three canine friends. The first couple of weeks were emotionally confusing. Everything was different. My work life changed. My family did not visit. I did not go to the grocery. I did not meet my friends for dinner. Sharing no more. Not with anybody.

Life got quiet. So, I sat, reaching to my practice to give me the stability I needed to stay grounded and  sane. I reached for inspiration by reading, by listening, by watching. Yes, my online world became a lifeline. “Breathe. You are online.”

The miracle of the internet-connected me to my dear community. I chanted with the monks at Deer Park, listened to Dharma talks from Plum Village, enrolled in a 25-day course at Upaya Zen Center and sat with 700 people from all over the world. Daily, my practice deepened. Peace settled in me. On Wednesdays, our meditation group met on Zoom. I was filled with love seeing their joyful faces, happy to be together. A different kind of sharing. I began to feel a deep sense of quiet contentment.

The idea came to me one morning as I sat meditating with my friends at the Upaya Zen Center. Out back beyond my porch, I had an enclosed carport sitting empty. I realized I had a Zendo just waiting to be created. I sat with the idea for several days. Then I got up off the cushion.

Without a doubt, I am the only Buddhist most people know. And, to most people, I am just a teeny bit strange, or maybe more than teeny. I’ve always colored outside the lines, which in itself creates distance. Not caring about being seen as the crazy old Buddhist woman, I told neighbors about my plan to have a meditation space that would be open to the community. “Really?” “But what if strangers come?” “Will you feel safe?” “Can I just go in?”

Contractors arrived. It was a former woodshop with really rough unsightly walls. We painted those walls with five gallons of paint, fingers crossed that the paint would create an attractive enough result. Wrong. It still looked terrible. The contractor suggested installing drywall and I cringed. My income was unstable. I waffled and waited taking time to decide. I sat in meditation. I slept on it. I talked about it with friends. But, of course, the idea of a backyard Zendo was just too strong. The joy I felt at the thought of it won and drywall was installed. Flooring was laid. Everything was painted white, again. A beautiful French door went in which will allow guests to enter from the driveway. And, there is a key code which I will give people to get in. Friends and people I know. People who are interested. Friends of friends. Community leaders. There will be some control and some safety measures. And, no, I am not fearful

In 2009 I had the incredible opportunity to visit Plum Village in The French countryside, for the 21 Day Retreat and I was housed at New Hamlet. One of my daily pleasures was to sit in the small mediation hall by myself. It was a beautiful space with thick stone walls hundreds of years old.  Purple meditation cushions filled the floor, all lined up in perfect order. On one wall sat the statue of an elegant pink Buddha. Tall and majestic and surrounded by orchids, dozens of orchids. That shiny, smiling Buddha infused me with tranquility and joy. I carried the Pink Buddha with me in my mind and in my heart after the retreat and for all these years.  My mind often wanders back and I remember my connection to that place and that time. I have since learned that the Pink Buddha is a symbol of Avalokiteshvara and represents compassion.

I wanted the Pink Buddha to be part of this tiny new back yard meditation hall. I hoped to fill the space with the energy of compassion especially in this troubled time. One Saturday evening, I wrote  to the sisters and brothers at Plum Village asking about the availability of photos. The very next afternoon, several photos showed up in my inbox. In this time of isolation, the monastic community in the South of France reached across the world and graced me with their generosity. Today, a 40 in by 40 in canvas hangs on the Zendo wall. Tall and majestic. Smiling. The Zendo is filled with such energy and such lineage, that of the monastics, the worldwide community of practitioners, of our dear teacher Thich Nhat Hanh, the energy of the Upaya Zen Center…..and of Avalokiteshvara.

Roshi Joan Halifax, who was given the Lamp Transmission by Thay, often talks of sitting in meditation with a strong back and a soft front. She says the strong back is like a stalk of bamboo. It bends with winds, with turmoil, with uncertainty…with Covid-19. But, it does not break. And, a soft front represents openness and compassion…an open heart. That is how I have come to think of my practice. Every time I sit, I strengthen my ability to withstand the always present uncertainty. The impermanence that exists always and for all of us, for the world. During this chaotic time we are all facing, I hear friends speaking of how afraid they are, of how depressed they are, or angry they are. I feel so blessed that my practice holds me, “like the crying baby” that Thay refers to. I am most happy and peaceful. When fear, anxiety, or depression show up, I sit. I breathe. I smile. I know I will be ok. I know I have more than enough to be happy. I only sway. I do not break. Strong back.

‘Soft front” reminds me of open-hearted and filled with compassion. It reminds me to get off the cushion and try to end suffering in whatever way I can. As I sit in meditation with a soft front, I remember the words of Roshi Joan. “Why am I here.? Why am I sitting.” The answer is to serve others. Not necessarily in some big way, but rather in some small way. We dedicate our practice to those who are serving on the front lines with this virus, to those who have lost loved ones, to our neighbor who is struggling to make ends meet, to a friend who is riddled with anger.  To serve others. That’s why we sit.

My backyard, carport Zendo does not have a name yet. Its purpose is to offer others that strong back and that open heart. Hopefully, it will serve others who need to have a quiet place for contemplation, for prayer, for refuge. It’s just a little space in a small, beautiful community. It’s a small place in the back yard of an old Buddhist woman who is just slightly odd. It will not change the world in any big way. Or, maybe it will.