Tassajara Zen Center
Pt. 1

One hundred fourteen.  It was not just a rumor that the line of mercury stopped just a degree under 115 on the temperature gauge.  That was in the sun.  It was said to be 102 under cover. This was one day before my arrival at Tassajara, but the day my friend, Barb, arrived 16 miles down the dusty road.  Barb, who has spent plenty of time in far-away lands, with high heat and humidity, couldn't recall she had ever been where it was that warm.  But, worry not.  Tassajara spoons it's own namesake creek making cool running water just a toe- or body-dip away.  And, the turquoise hued pool with it's shaded lounge chairs offers a easy respite from the heat.   

My six days at Tassajara were as an assistant to friend and colleague, Britt Fohrman,, who was leading a yoga retreat, The Healing Powers of Stillness, combining gentle and restorative yoga.  The 20 students were treated to 5 days of rest and self-care as they moved and stretched with the support of chairs, bolsters, blankets and blocks.  The skilled teaching of Ms. Fohrman gave each student space to create their own path to rejuvenation.   

Tassajara Zen Center was founded by Suzuki Roshi, a Japanese Soto Zen Monk, who in the '60s bought and converted Tassajara into a monestary for the training of Westerners in the Zen tradition.  Tassajara's siblings are the San Francisco Zen Center on Page Street and Green Gulch Farm just to the north, giving the centers an urban, coastal and mountain locale.   

Stimulation isn't from a device with an Apple or Sony logo.  Without cars and TVs and the ever-present din of city life, stimulation of the senses is reduced.  But, conversely, the senses get more sensitive as the rustling leaves and evening chirping replace pings, dings and pops of cell phones.

 Days are slow and leisurely at Tassajara.  Voices are generally kept low in keeping with the over-all stillness.  The aggression was by the stellar jays, who boldly approached and poked at any unaccompanied lunch bag.  There were things to do, but not many.  Unlike the lobby of the Quality Inn with racks of neatly place pamphlets for canoe trips and canopy tours, Tassajara displayed a single, hand-drawn map of a manicured path traversing from one end to the other.  Given the dusty and tedious road to Tassajara, once you've arrived, that's it. No tours, taxis or local restaurants, no internet cafes or bike rentals.  Few choices, lots of freedom.  Freedom from choices equals freedom.  I'm thinking that's the lesson! 

Tricycle offers an article about the cost of enlightenment, White Trash Buddhist:  

Here's a bit: 

"I am forever in debt to the handful of teachers, writers, and thinkers who introduced me to Buddhist practice, provide constant inspiration, and continue to shape my knowledge of this path.

Actually, I'm just forever in debt."

 Ansel Adams