Kyoto was a fantastic city….beautiful, clean
and outstanding history and character. I was
visiting my friend, Jim, who had moved there
to teach English, had learned Japanese tea
ceremony, and renovated an old Kyoto house
into a traditional tea house. His efforts had been
noticed by the media, and the Urasenke tea
school in which he had been trained moved him
up in rank quickly. Not bad for a gaijin.
Kyoto hadn’t been bombed during the second
world war since it was the cultural heart of Japan.
There were shops that sold only charcoal for
tea ceremony…charcoal that still looked like the
wood it had been made from, but shrunken. There
were tea shops…sake shops with a rainbow of
flavors and prices. We went to an archery range
where Kyudo was practiced in traditional dress by
Japanese businessmen. And we ate the best food of
my life….every day.
Jim wanted me to stay. I couldn’t see it. Jim was
doing what many people who adopt a new country
do….he was trying to become Japanese…it drove
me crazy. Japanese communicate very indirectly…
much is assumed to be known. This makes it very
hard for a foreigner to even understand the culture…
let alone become fluent in it. I guess I was too much
a no-bullshit-American to dig it. But I really enjoyed
sitting in the public baths and watching the sumo
tournament on T.V.. What I got tired of was every
Japanese person I met asking me the same first
question: “Isn’t Japan the best country in the world?”
Well, hate to bother you, but Fukushima happened,
and now Japan is not the best country in the world,
just the most radioactive.
****
I went back to the States. I went to live at a
meditation center….staff plumber and water
works operator. I loved the mountains, the aspen
trees, the spaciousness….and the land had been
blessed by great Buddhist teachers…you
could feel it. I’ve been to power spots before,
and this was one. Lots of magic had happened
here….and lots of work.
In 1985, the center had a main building, an office
and a shower house. The kitchen had a four burner
stove and a sink. We had to get the place ready so
that 450 people could live there for three months.
We had ten weeks. In that time, we built two bath-
houses, a toilet house, a complete commercial kitchen,
tent platforms and tents to accommodate those people.
Plus a circus sized dining tent and platform and a main
tent and platform for the program that would happen.
We completed the work the night before inspection
by Larimer County. The day after that, 450 people
arrived. And those are just the facts.
I remember deciding to take on the job. My teacher
had gone around his Board of Directors to see that
the project got started. I had just obtained my Master
Plumbing license from Colorado. I was pacing around
my house…contemplating what I would do. I stopped.
I decided that I would go for it, make it happen, At that
instant, appearing in the sky before me were the Buddhas
and Bodhisattvas, dakinis, dharma protectors…the whole
schmearcase…and they were applauding. I guess I made
the right decision.
****
My Buddhist teacher was the only shape shifter I have
ever known. All the time I knew him, how he appeared,
the way taught, his demeanor were all changing….as if
he was making himself up as he went along….which he
was. If you saw him over a period of time, it was
uncanny. It was like him standing there was already
too much information, All the realized ones I met
were like that. But this one, my teacher…being with
him there was a constant sensation of being dissected
and examined. It was horribly embarrassing….and yet,
I was irrevocably drawn to him….go figure.
****
What’s the difference between a “click” and a “snap”
when it happens in your head? We say something “clicks”
when we understand something we’ve been thinking
about. We say someone “snaps” when the pressure of
their life gets too great. So it seems that a “click” is an
opening or a connection, while a “snap” seems to be
a short circuit or a separation.
“Lots of clicking and snapping going on…you can
smell the ozone generated by the sparks…or, at least,
you think you can….the technicians running amok
with their clip boards trying to make sense of the
whole program…time for lunch….informal Western
style…lots of drooling in line as the senses begin to
come back in time to eat…it’s all programmed…ever
since you arrived…you knew what you were getting
into….or, at least, you thought you did. Should you
leave? Do you want to? Don’t you want to see how
it all turns out?”