My Buddhist Lesson - Joan Doerksen

When I first came to the practice of Zen Buddhism, my understanding of the word `practice’ was the physical aspect of sitting on a cushion for periods of time, learning to concentrate on my breathing and freeing my mind from the constant deluge of thoughts that come up. I have lately come to understand that the idea of `practice’ is not so much what happens on the cushion but what happens off the cushion.

This has become apparent recently in my life.

This May I started on a five week journey that took me by plane, train and bus to St. Jean Pied in France as I begun a 500 km. trek across the Pyrenees and Northern Spain on a route known as the Camino de Santiago. It was with anticipation and trepidation that I begun my walk with my brother and two friends as I knew that there would be trying times ahead, having done the last 300 kms. the previous year. As I walked 25 – 35 kms. a day, I was able to practice walking meditation for prolonged periods of time, finding myself `keeping in step’ and `close behind’ my walking partners of the moment. My mind was often free from thought (usually because I was too exhausted to think!) and I grew to appreciate the meaning of `being in the moment’ as we traversed steep mountain ranges and long prairie-like stretches for days on end.

Unbeknownst to me, things were not going quite so smoothly at home and I was sheltered from news from home by my partner who thought, kind-heartedly, that it would ruin my trip if I did know. My father was diagnosed with Lymphoma and was requiring a series of painful tests and blood transfusions while, at the same time, my partner’s father suffered a severe stroke and was in ICU in Vancouver. At the same time, we put our house on the market for sale (who knew that the market would slow the same month???)

I had thought I had prepared myself for re-entry into life back home after an idyllic 5 week period of doing nothing but walking with family and friends. I was gearing myself up for the transition from holiday to work knowing that a 2 day break between Spain and Canada was likely going to result in more than a few days of jet lag. I also knew that I was not to have any more holidays for the year and that the next few months would be filled with caretaking our elderly fathers and selling our house, packing and moving.

I was not prepared, however, for the anxiety that came with dealing with the unknown and the crises that had now become the `new normal’. I resorted quickly to what Charlotte Joko Beck describes in her book `Nothing Special .. Living Zen’ as The Baseboard “an electrical baseboard that jolts us whenever we encounter what feels like a problem .. whenever we feel threatened or upset, we plug ourselves into the .. defensive reaction to block the possible misery.” As a child, this baseboard was created as a means of dealing with not always getting what we wanted and may have presented as a tantrum or withdrawal. As an adult, this baseboard was represented, for me, as anxiety and constant worry and argumentativeness. I felt as thought my Buddhist learning’s had been totally negated as I reverted back to the only way I knew to react to a `moment’ that was unpleasant and difficult (and not the way I wanted it to be)

With time spent on the cushion, and some very relevant Dharma talks by Eshu, I have come to realize that this moment is my life, regardless of whether it is where I want to be or how I planned on things working out. I have come to appreciate that with continued daily practice and a deepening awareness of my response to situations as they arise, I am better able to live in the moment with integrity and Zen-like grace. Not always, mind you, but more and more.

I am extremely grateful for the awareness that my practice of Zen has given me and for the support of my Sangha and my teacher, Eshu. As we share our stories on Tuesday night, I am constantly reminded that each and every one of has our dark periods and that practicing Buddhism does not rid us of these trials but gives us the tools to live in the moment even if the moment isn’t enjoyable.

Thank you.