outbreath

Someone asked me Sunday night what brings me to prison.  What makes me come to San Quentin week after week as a part of the Buddhist group?

I've been saying for years: what I appreciate about coming to prison is that my only job is to come in & be human.  That's all that is called for.  I wish sometimes I could hear myself talk.  Prison is a strange unworldly place, & presence & humanity are in short supply.  But as I said earlier in the night, people are just people wherever you go.

A week ago Sunday was ordination day.  The lead-up, like any good quest required preparation, gathered the community and involved physical transformation.  By the end of the day, my head was bare, I had new clothes, a new name and the sense of having given it all.  My head was a buzz (on the inside -- I'm not talking about the haircut). 

What does it all mean in the end?  Being that I am already part of a small community, and the first novice priest, what it means is not written out as it might be in a community full of conventions.

In truth, however, each of us must, as Rumi said, "unfold our own myths" & in this way, I must unfold mine.  Just a few photos from the ceremony follow. 

But do not be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth,  without complicated explanations, so everyone will understand the passage,  We have opened you...

Unfold your own myth

Who gets up early to discover the moment light begins?

Who finds us here circling, bewildered like atoms?

Who comes to a spring thirsty

and sees the moon reflected in it?

Who like Jacob, blind with grief and age,

smells the shirt of his lost son and can see again?

Who lets a bucket down and brings up a flowing prophet?

Or, like Moses, goes for fire and finds what burns inside the sunrise?

Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies

and opens a door to the other world.

Solomon cuts open a fish, and there is a gold ring.

Omar storms in to kill the Prophet and leaves with blessings.

Chase a deer and end up everywhere.

An oyster opens his mouth to swallow one drop.

Now there is a pearl.

A vagrant wanders empty ruins.

Suddenly he is wealthy.

But do not be satisfied with stories,

how things have gone with others.

Unfold your own myth, 

without complicated explanations,

so everyone will understand the passage, 

We have opened you.

Start walking toward Shams, the teacher, the sun.

Your legs will get heavy and tired.

Then comes a moment of feeling the wings you have grown, lifting.

-Rumi, Coleman Barks, Trans. The Big Red Book

After the ceremonies, there are still things to be done. Though ceremonially received, sewing is not yet completed. In the quiet expansive space that follows the excitement of ceremony, I continue my journey.

My rakusu will be made of pure magic. I have received fabrics gifted from family & friends. I fold & stitch them, their lives & stories, into my practice. I fold in too, the fabrics that were gifted, but did not end up in the end result.

This once belonged to my maternal-step-mom. She broke her arm this week. As I stitch these lines, I am reminded of the fragility of the human body & it’s resilience. May she soon be healed & whole!

This second piece was part of a tie I made once for my dad. It was ultimately too short, but he wore it anyway because I made it. Meaning won over fashion.

The first bar represents the newDharma community (red), I settled into allowing myself to belong here when I saw the effort I was expending in keeping myself from what I longed for. The second holds the love of longtime partners. The third (black) comes from across the ocean, a dear friend in Morocco. Time and space are indeed illusions, & relationships need not loose out though our paths may separate us.

The yellow fabric here comes from a dear friend via someone in her community. This is from a community rakusu (though what community I know not). The blue with dots is fabric my mom sent - it was used by my grandmother in a quilt for my aunt. (layer upon layer of relations!)

On the left here, hand dyed fabric from one of my yoga students, on the right, a piece standing in for blue from SQ.

Somewhere toward the beginning of this endeavor, I was admonished not to "go it alone", but rather to involve my community.

I understand that at SFZC & in other communities, sewing one's okesa is a solitary endeavor (& one that takes much longer than 20 days!!!).  I've repeatedly been moved by what happens when I choose to let the community in to areas of my life that I have held most closely, & am certain that it lies much closer to an edge for me than anything done in solitary... I've got the lone wolf dance steps DOWN, & have been tickled by the challenge of dancing differently.

There aren't words for the ways in which the community stepping forward has expanded the borders to my heart.  I can see, in the many hands that have stitched in one way or another their hearts into this fabric a great deal of love.

I've tried to keep track of everyone who put stitches in, or contributed in some way, & the list is just plain staggering (heart breakingly so... we should all have the opportunity to know what it is to be held in this way).  

Moving against my grain, I chose to cast my net quite wide, & involve as many folks as I could.  Sometimes, often in fact, this has meant that I've held back, NOT sewing all I had energy for on an evening or afternoon, so that I would have stitches to offer the next day when I would be in the company of others -- to weave their lives intimately into my own.

A friend reflected, "so it was against your best interest to involve people?" -- that, emphatically no.  Against the interest of just getting the robe DONE & over with? Yes. Against the interest of efficiency? Likely.  Against the interest of consistency? Perhaps.  Against my best interest? Certainly not.  I have met with some of you, dined with others, had tea, squinted in the darkness at black-on-black, eaten snacks, enjoyed the sunshine, poured over those corners, & delighted in the ease that even this avowed introvert can have among the people (if they come in manageable bundles).  

I've love the gatherings with unlikely sewing companions gathering for a common purpose.

My list of folks who have supported me grows steadily everyday, & does not cease. The lines between who is counted as a 'supporter' & not blurs.  If you are in my life, you have gifted in one way or another.  These folks gifted with physical touch, hands on the cloth... some of these were sewers, some sent fabric for my rakusu which is still in process, or contributed in other ways, some were simply steady rocks tending to whatever was needed.

I didn't get photos of everyone, but some of the folks who helped are pictured here - some significant folks (in particular early supporters) are not pictured.

I'm sure there are names missing - if you helped, and your name isn't here, it's not out of lack of appreciation, it is just a function of poor record keeping and the numbers!!!

*Gail (multiple woven layers of connection... we'll call her family & then acknowledge her connection with BayNVC, BATS, SFZC, Buddhadharma)

*Jody (Fweeter, Sorelle, Bellamusica, BCCO etc.)

*Jun (Buddhadharma, CoML)

*Charli family

*Bonnie (YMCA)

*Richard (Buddhadharma)

*Laura (Fweeter, Sorelle, Bellamusica, BCCO etc.)

Jasmine (nDc)

Herta (NBSC)

Shekhar (UofChicago)

Ishani (CXC)

Laura (Fweeter)

Lucy (BayNVC)

Richard (NBSC)

Barbara (NBSC)

Bernice (NBSC)

Lenore (NBSC)

Joyce (NBSC)

Lenny (NBSC)

Jiryu (Buddhadharma, Green Gulch)

Patrick (nDC, A's fan meet's Tiger's fan...)

Muki (nDC)

Simha (nDC)

Chuck (nDC)

Zochi (nDC)

Chandra (nDC)

Teresa (NBSC)

Ada (Yoga Room)

Ramon (NBSC)

Bruni (Buddhadharma, EBMC)

Jason (CXC)

Ronnie (Bellamusica, Fweeter, Sorelle)

Seido (Buddhadharma, Green Gulch)

The men of the Buddhadharma sangha at SQ-- you put in some of the most meaningful stitches -- these are what will truly keep this garment together.

Lisa & Carol (Atlanta, GA)

Marc (BayNVC)

Carol & Pam (NBSC)

Lynette (NBSC)

Hime (NBSC)

Janet (NBSC)

Ethel (NBSC)

Christy (Buddhadharma, BZC)

Viv (JetBlue-outbound) - a flight attendant on my NYC-bound flight.  This woman knows what it is to deal with people in their full on 'crazy' state with compassion.  I hope to embody a bit of what she brings to her work.  

Edith (NBSC, JetBlue-homeward bound)

Renshin (SFZC) & Tim (SFZC) & the folks @ the SFZC sewing class who loaned me their sewing teachers for 5 minutes... without these folks, I'd have bought my fabric a week later, & still be sewing...

Kaaren (Xcen-trix) -- without her, the okesa would be mixoplisic, backwards & have 6-and-a-half jo's...

Carol (Yoga Room, Alameda Yoga Station, Leela Yoga)

Andrine (Leela Yoga)

Donald (Yoga Room)

Lucia  (Buddhadharma Sangha)

Hossine (ESTA, Agadir, Morocco)

Laura (aka Fweeter)

Christy (BZC, Buddhadharma)

Paul (BZC, Buddhadharma)

Steve Emrick (SQSP)

Dorrit (BayNVC)

Gretchen (Yoga Room, NBSC)

Hillary (NBSC)

Claudia (NBSC)

Terry (NBSC)

Ian (Brooklyn Zen Center)

Kara (family)

Bryce & Christine (family)

Merrideth (Cross Keys)

Nell (family)

Lucy (BayNVC)

Marc (BayNVC)

Ian (Brooklyn Zen Center)

Maryanne (family)

Alice (NBSC)

John (BayNVC, NBSC)

Sharran (BayNVC, NBSC)

Cristin (Fweeter, Sorelle, Bellamusica)

Mac (Buddhadharma, BZC)

David (family)

Namia (family) -- ever so eager to help...

angel Kyodo Sensei (nDC)

Paco Genkoji Sensei(ZPM)

In the end, the last stitch:

figuring out the ties...

Still appreciating the love panel 6 absorbed last night, & the outpouring of support I have received. I’ve lost count of how many people have had their hands & hearts & stitches in my robes. It was a bit chilly this morning, so sitting under the robe was welcome. A line from a Dar Williams song floated to mind. “Let your love cover me, like a pair of angel wings. You are my family…”

Struck by the connection I experience with relative strangers… I am enveloped in it when I let it in.

When I listened to the full song, I remembered it as one I sang myself to soothe my aching heart after my grandparents died. It is fitting that it come back now. It continues: We stood outside in the summer rain / Different people with a common pain. / A simple box in that hard red clay, / Where we left him to always remain.

This whole ‘being one with…’ thing has gotten under my skin...

Sending out invitations caught me right in a challenge space.  I prefer to do things in private, to keep the things that matter to me close.  Going 'public' has not been my way.  REALLY.  NOT.

AND, sometimes it's not about my personal preferences, sometimes it's not about what I like.  Sometimes it's not even about me (gasp).  With the responses I've received, I see clearly that ceremonies yes, touch something very personal, perhaps acting as a capstone for past work, & hopefully a catalyst for future work for those directly involved, but they also serve a purpose for the wider community.  We see ourselves reflected in each other, & step into more of our own fullness when we witness others doing so.  

I’m sewing, on a very literal level, I am encountering tangles. The thread knots up, & the only reasonable choice becomes to back up, take a breath, and find some space in the conflict. Like with people — brute force might get the thing done, but it won’t be done well, or with care.

It's only conflict. Not something to be afraid of. 

A few lines from the Jata Sutta, which I know via my friend Emila:

The last couple of weeks have felt a bit like a whirlwind! I have some supplies in hand (bowls, some fabric, reading materials) other supplies on their way (clothes that go under the robe I'm sewing).  I started sewing my Okesa yesterday. I took it to class & invited a couple of students (after class) to help me out, & sew their wishes for all beings into my robe. I love the many hands being part of this!

I also caught my cat "helping" this morning... [ahem]