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21-02-20 - Mark Pringle sent two stories
My two
Tassajara stories:
First one was in the late sixties. A friend and I had heard about
the hot springs and drove down from Berkeley to investigate. When we
arrived we were given permission to use the hot springs and a place
to camp down below in some open space near the baths. One impression
of the baths - I remember vaguely the scene painted on the wall
there - the Tassajara Hot Springs Legend, a remnant of the old
resort. It must be long gone by now.
It rained that night but we stayed fairly dry under our tarps. In
the morning we got the word that it was time for us to leave. The
road was pretty muddy and we were advised to borrow some chains to
get our vehicle up the hill. We dropped them off at Jamesburg on our
way out. But before leaving a zen guy came down to our campsite.
Clearly we were footloose hippies much more interested in the hot
springs than in zen but he took a chance and asked me what I was
looking for or what I wanted in life - along the lines of - what’s
the most important thing? I thought about it for a minute and
reflecting on my own personal difficulties of the time said: peace.
He looked a bit surprised and said something like - Maybe there is
something in zen for you after all. It took me another decade or so
to find out he was right.
The second experience of Tassajara was a hike in from China Camp.
This was sometime in the early seventies. I wanted to explore the
caves along this part of the trail and thought it would be
interesting to end up at Tassajara. I knew Dianne (now Daya)
Goldschlag was in residence there. We had known each other through
some encounters in Berkeley and a trip to Mendocino with our mutual
friend Ellen Sirota. My relationship with Dianne was more as an
acquaintance than friend but I decided to stop in and see if she was
free to have a visitor. As I came down the hill into Tassajara in
the late afternoon someone was sounding the big bell at the entrance
gate. This turned out to be Dianne. She greeted me warmly and
invited me to have some dinner and offered to let me sleep on the
floor of her cabin that night. Dinner happened around an outdoor
table - maybe a dozen or so people gathered around. I was asked how
much I wanted on my plate (or was it a bowl?) and I answered that I
was pretty hungry. Before we ate someone offered a short grace. It
was: “Dear God thank you for this food and thank you for the
Dharma.” A curious mix of religious traditions I thought at the
time. It turned out I was unable to finish the large mound of brown
rice in front of me. There were some murmurs of disapproval or else
I imagined them, anyway I felt a sting of shame at my greed and
ignorance.
Dianne was sharing a cabin with a roommate - I don’t remember her
name but I’m guessing from podcasts and written interviews that it
was probably Margaret. I slept on the floor near the foot of her
bed. I woke in the early morning and noted that Dianne’s roommate
was doing zazen on her bed. I also noted she was not wearing any
clothing. This got my attention and I raised my head in “curiosity.”
This was at first met with imperturbable indifference which
transformed into something like the stink eye and I settled back
down - again in a state of mixed feelings.
Dianne bid me farewell that morning and she told me she had been
reprimanded by someone in authority there for inviting her
“boyfriend” to come and visit. This misunderstanding was my third
and final transgression of this trip to Tassajara. Clearly at that
time in the history of zen in America we all had a lot to learn and
still do, but I’m grateful for these early encounters with zen in
the backcountry of the Ventana Wilderness. May all beings be at
peace.
Mark |