I left work early yesterday. I was sitting in my office, staring at curriculum, and the sun was so bright outside. So I left, went and sat in the park, near the water, near the geese.
I woke up today, sat zazen, but could not breath. I couldn't keep my legs together either. I felt nauseous. My head pounded. After ceremony, we had our breakfast ceremony, and the genmai was too thick, too hot, and I was the one who prepared it. It wasn't my turn and I woke up late, but someone must have woke up even later, because he never made it to the temple.
After breakfast, my head still hurt, and I was feeling grey. I called in and said my eyeballs hurt. I didn't say that much, but I said I didn't feel well. I skip a lot of work.
Jeff and I talked about our teacher. I walked into the office the other day and said hello, how was your day, and he responded, "Don't bother me with that shit, I'm busy."
I should have said, "What are you doing here? Don't you have cats to feed?"
I just walked away. At 76 years old, you're off the hook.
I'm spending my day looking at other zen temples. Thinking about why I want to be a priest. Also thinking about why I want to go back to school. Thinking about why I want and if any of it makes sense.
I've always wanted to write. I don't mean publish; I mean I want to sit quietly and write.
Since I've started to practice Zen, I have thought about becoming a priest; I don't mean I want to teach, but I want to wear the kesa and follow the way.
These are the two things I can do. This is what I'm good for, meaning, I'll show up on time and try really hard to do a good job. Getting mixed up in teaching was bad for the universe. My heart's not in it. Never was.
I felt obligated.
I'm also editing a book for the temple. If I ever disclose where I am and who my teacher is, maybe I'll name it. I'll be vague for now, as to not slander the sangha.