On Meeting a Teacher

Forty years go this month (April of 1985), I became a disciple of Sei’un An Roshi (Prof. Roselyn Stone). We had met in February after I saw her ad for an Introduction to Zen weekend at Hart House Farm north of Toronto. Before I could sign up, she wanted to meet with me. I have no memory of what we discussed in that first meeting other than my recognition that she was “checking me out” as much as I was checking her out and that I walked away with the impression that she seemed honest, sincere and intelligent – no fool and also very grounded in reality.

At the farm, I and another student were each presented with an unstuffed Zafu and an enormous bag of kapok which we were to stuff into the two covers, making our own meditation cushions. I still have mine although it could use a little more stuffing these days. We met the rest of the small sangha, and from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon we heard three of the Introductory Lectures, meditated, ate, slept dormitory style on bunkbeds (men and women in the same room), and helped to thin the maple sugar woodlot and collected brush to fuel the upcoming production of maple syrup. All weekend, we were in silence except when we had an opportunity to ask questions during the lectures, chant and a single one-on-one interview with Sei’un Roshi. The silence gave us an opportunity to explore the experience without having to form any judgment of it.

I have a very clear memory of sitting in the Zendo for the first time. It was called the Dance Studio and was a small building separate from the farm house with one wall of windows facing the clearing and the pond and forest beyond. There was a wood stove at one end and a small office off to the side that functioned as the dokusan room. That first sit, Friday evening, we were offered flat, rectangular cushions to set our Zafu on (Zabutons), instructed on how to fold our legs, turned to face the wall and then the bell rang. In that instant I had a very strong impression of having arrived home. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to do, as if I had never left this place.

Over the course of March, we finished the lectures, meeting in a sitting room in Sei’un’s quarters at Massey College. At an April Zazenkai, I received Shoken, becoming a formal Zen disciple.

What does it mean to have a teacher?

I have read that the sixth Chinese patriarch of Zen, Daikan Zenji, also known as Eno, advised that in order to see the Way clearly, one needs a good friend as a guide. That is the role of Zen teacher. The teacher is someone who is travelling the same path as you, but has already seen the way ahead clearly enough to guide your steps. Sei’un once told me that what distinguishes Zen from all other spiritual paths is the activity in the dokusan room. In the dokusan room, the student presents their understanding based on what they see at that moment. In doing so, the teacher recognizes where they are on the path and gives guidance on how to continue. If the teacher is not clear, it is very easy for the student to get lost and tangled up in complicated ideas. Of course, it is very easy to get lost and tangled anyway, but having a teacher helps. I cannot count the number of times in my own journey that during or after dokusan, I realized that I had previously completely misunderstood.

Repaying a teacher’s kindness

I was taught that a Zen student has two responsibilities towards their teacher. The first is to surpass them. The second is to pass on the teachings and to keep them alive. Keeping the teachings alive means, not just to spout off what one has heard, but to breathe life into them. To live them. Both of these responsibilities take a lifetime to fulfill.

40 years and 40 years

Forty years ago, I sat on a cushion in a dimly lit room and turned to faced the wall. Did I make an imprint on the cushion or did it make an imprint on me? Who can say.

Forty years from now, will someone continue to repay that kindness?