Not much to say about my zen career except that I am grateful for the practice and the opportunity to embrace it in my life. Zazen is a life buoy of sorts. There have been times when breath is all I had, or all I was.

First heard Suzuki-roshi lecture at Page Street while a college student. All too soon he was ill and I was witnessing Baker’s mountain seat ceremony. Suzuki-roshi was so jaundiced, firmly pounding his walking stick with great determination to fulfill his mission. Some friends lived at Page Street in those years thus I had the treat of attending tea class with Okusan Mitsu (as a guest).  So many earnest conversations about Zen in America, what might be possible, what’s cultural and what’s dharma, what did you think about the lecture, and so on.

Bill Kwong-roshi taught me how to sit zazen in 1971, and I was among the founding group of students at Genjo-Ji, Sonoma Mountain Zen Center, in 1973. Also met dear Sojun-roshi and found the practice in the wooden attic zendo very sweet. He was probably the first non-Asian teacher I observed. Years later, I married a lay student of Mel’s and Sojun performed our ceremony at Dwight Way zendo. My husband is a night owl; in the early 90s he was in rotation for zendo cleaning duties and I would accompany him. This would be about 11pm and the zendo was still like winter (dark) sesshin. Sometimes I’d bring flowers from my garden. I remember Mel’s cushion could not be fluffed; it was a pancake! No clue how he sat so steadily with such minimal loft.