I have
been told several times on this journey that the majority of Zen practitioners
in North America today are still baby-boomers, people—like me—who became interested
in the 1960s. There have been young people at many of the centers I’ve visited,
but there are other centers—including my own sangha in Montreal—where a young
member means someone in their 40s.
A good
number of baby-boomers came to Zen, of course, through drugs. I tell Bodhin
Kjolhede that my short answer when people ask how I got involved is, “Mescaline.”
“Me too!” he says. “Mescaline was my drug of choice as well!” Well, drugs may
have been the first step, then came the books, of which there were two in
particular. The people who read Shunryu Suzuki’s Zen Mind, Beginners Mind made their way to San Francisco. Those who
read Philip Kapleau’s The Three Pillars
of Zen came here—to Rochester, New York. I read Kapleau and wrote a letter
to the Zen Center in 1971, to inquire if there were any place to practice in
Canada, because, at the time, I was unable to return to the US. Their reply
didn’t show much sympathy for my
situation, basically stating that if I were serious, I would figure out a way
to get to Rochester. So I didn’t expect a particularly warm reception on this
visit. Things have mellowed here, however, since the '70s.
The Zen
Center is on Arnold Park, another fairly ritzy neighborhood; two adjacent
houses linked by a passageway. The grounds and structures are impressive and
maybe a little daunting. I am early for my 9:00 appointment with Bodhin Kjolhede
and am told I can wait on a sofa in the foyer outside what appears to be the
administrative offices. Young people dressed in dark navy short-sleeve shirts
and matching loose pants hurry about their business—men and women barefoot and
with close-cropped, but not shaved, heads. I’m reminded of what someone had said
about the San Francisco Zen Center in the days before Blanche Hartman became
abbess: “Well, they’re not unfriendly.”
However,
as in other centers I’ve visited, if there is a certain stiffness among the
students (or perhaps they are just focused on carrying out their duties), the
teachers have all been very easy to talk to. Bodhin is relaxed, humorous, and capable of
putting others at ease. It’s that “man of no rank” with which I associated
Taigen Henderson. Every single one of them has been someone you could imagine
you’d enjoy having a beer with and discussing something other than Zen.
Rochester—when
Philip Kapleau was in charge—had a reputation for a very strict regime. It has
been called “boot camp” or “samurai” Zen. “I thrived in that atmosphere,” Bodhin tells me. Others did not, which was surely a factor in Toni Packer’s
defection along with 200 members of the center.
This is
clearly a Buddhist center—the decorations make that obvious. But it is also American.
Even the navy shirts and pants which identifies the individual as a priest (Bodhin wears them as well) is something that could be worn on the street
without attracting attention. “Kapleau Roshi was committed to developing an
American style Zen,” the new roshi tells me. And in his own tenure as “abbot” he has
maintained and furthered that. Although he considers himself conservative, in
retaining the teaching he received, he has also loosened some of the
structures.
There
is a Zendo in the Center on Arnold Park where morning and evening sitting takes
place, but for the past ten years all sesshin have taken place at their
practice center—but not a monastery—at Chapin Mill, thirty-five minutes outside
the city. We drive there because Bodhin is rehearsing, with the participants, a wedding he will be supervising for two
members later in the week.
The
Chapin Mill center is four lengthy corridors surrounding an inner courtyard,
where the wedding ceremony will take place. The zendo is light and airy and
seats up to sixty participants. One of the staff tells me that they can house
up to seventy people here. The building is occasionally rented to other groups
(“Of like mind,” Bodhin points out), as is the Buddha Hall at the Arnold Park
address. These rentals are a significant source of income.
Chapin
Mill is a lovely rural retreat with a bit more than 100 acres. Philip Kapleau’s
grave is here, marked by the mill stone from the original mill. As I wait for Bodhin to complete his business, I do the tai-chi form by Kapleau's grave, then place a pebble
on the mill stone. And I am glad to have had the opportunity to do so.
This is
a strong community of between 400 and 500 members. While they might not be
called monks, there a number of young, committed, ordained persons. One feels
that this is all evidence that Zen is safely rooted in North America. But there
is one thing I can’t help noticing. Rochester has a large African-American
population; that’s evident from walking around downtown. But there are only a
very few black practitioners here, at one of the oldest and most well-established
centers in the country.
Zen practice
may be secure, but, in general, it still only draws people from a fairly narrow
segment of the general population.
As I am walking to my car at Arnold Park after taking Roshi Kjolhede's photo, I see a line of Zen students come down the street, with bags for picking up litter. I ask, "Are these guys yours?" "Takahatsu," he tells me. "But don't try talking to them," he warns. They are focused on carrying out their duties.
Cypress Trees in the Garden:
As I am walking to my car at Arnold Park after taking Roshi Kjolhede's photo, I see a line of Zen students come down the street, with bags for picking up litter. I ask, "Are these guys yours?" "Takahatsu," he tells me. "But don't try talking to them," he warns. They are focused on carrying out their duties.
Cypress Trees in the Garden:
Kjolhede, Bodhin – 146, 204, 321-336,
340, 342, 344, 345, 346, 374, 375, 388, 402, 420, 468
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