By Shinge Sherry Chayat Roshi
More than 40 of us came together for Rohatsu Sesshin at Dai Bosatsu Zendo from November 30 through the morning of December 8. The sesshin was deep and still. As the snow accumulated around us, I was reminded of the poem by Santoka Taneda that Eido Tai Shimano Roshi quoted in his last teisho, which he presented at ShogenJi Junior College in Gifu, Japan, just before his passing on February 18, 2019:
Snow falls endlessly amidst life and death.
For Rohatsu at New York Zendo, a strong group, with many more joining online, sat every morning and evening, through the last night and the dawn of December 8, commemorating the Buddha’s enlightenment.
Rohatsu. This kind of strenuous and intensive training done in the traditional way is one of the Zen Studies Society’s most important offerings; it’s the culmination of the year’s practice, which is grounded in the essential consistency of day-in, day-out sitting. What develops is the open, attentive mind, the mind of radical acceptance that excludes no one, no situation. It’s an embrace in which we feel our utter unity. This is what we learn, what we experience, through our dedicated zazen. This is what we offer, naturally and gracefully, to all beings.
D. T. Suzuki said, “To practice is to open up to the fundamental sacredness of this mysterious world where we don’t really understand what’s going on; we don’t even understand what’s possible until we try our best.” When we open to this sacredness, it’s no longer about understanding; in the midst of no-knowing, we try our very best. At this time of global instability and challenges of every sort, let us be here for each other. We sit with all our might. We sit down, and then we get up, ready to respond appropriately and clearly to the urgent calls of our time.
The darkest day and the longest night have come and gone. Subtly at first, then more noticeably, dawn comes earlier; soon our morning zazen will be bathed in light, which is none other than the light of Buddha’s wisdom.
