The Cheerfully Solemn Jiko

Susan's tenure as shuso or head student has ended, as we concluded the fall practice period last weekend with our three-day sesshin at Black Mountain Center, and the shuso ceremony at Russian River Zendo.

Each time I participate in a sesshin, it seems I am faced with new challenges and experiences. This one was filled with a confusing mess of conflicting emotions. There were a large number of us, about 40 students. Many who came were grappling with their grief over our teacher Darlene Cohen's worsening health. As the reality of her weakness, and the specter of cancer, hung over the weekend, all of us were brought face to face with our own fears: What does this mean for our sangha? What does it mean for me, and my practice? How can we support each other through this difficult time?

In other sesshins, I have been buoyed by incredible lightness and energy. This time, I was exhausted. I found myself nodding during zazen periods. Twice I took advantage of the optional rest periods offered, choosing to walk in the woods rather than sit. My legs were aching; my body was heavy.

I was saved by my work assignment. On Saturday, I acted as jiko to Sarita Tamayo and Cynthia Kear, two priests who will soon receive dharma transmission from Darlene. They offered dokusan (private student interviews) throughout much of the day. As jiko, it was my job to quietly approach the student in the zendo who was next on the list, bowing, indicating that it was their time for dokusan. I then waited for them to come to the door, and led them to the separate building where Sarita and Cynthia were waiting.

I had never been jiko before. At first I felt vaguely guilty, as if I were cheating, because for most of the day on Saturday, I was unable to sit zazen with the rest of the students. I was too busy shepherding people back and forth to the dokusan rooms. But then I realized that this, too, is zazen - everything we do is zazen, if we can focus our attention properly. So I gave myself over to the task, and completed it as diligently as I could. I was going to say, just now, that I did it as cheerfully and as solemnly as I could. Then that sounded oxymoronic. How could it be both? But that is what it felt like - a practice with both cheerfulness and solemnity.

When it is time to receive a work assignment from one of my teachers, I have a tendency to want to keep doing the same job over and over again, because I like mastery. I am most comfortable knowing that I can do something without error, without hesitation. At first, I was annoyed that my teachers gave me new roles at each opportunity. It seemed inefficient, even haphazard. It has taken me some time to appreciate the teaching in this practice. For me, at least, the constant change is a push, a nudging. It means that each role remains fresh and new as I take it up, and I approach each one with a seriousness, an intensity, as I try to learn. But, at the same time, it has forced me to be light - because I make mistakes. I bobble, and take missteps. The best I can do is simply be cheerfully present, ready for a gentle correction from someone nearby. All of which is a wonderful lesson for a perfectionist with performance anxiety.

Ah, the wisdom of our teachers!

Thank you very much to Susan for being a guest on the blog for these past six weeks. It has been a pleasure reading your words.