Roshi came today. I was standing at the door of the zendo, waiting to hit the han, and there he was, looking wan, and dressed in black. I shook his hand and didn't say a word. Jeff, the other zen temple resident, looked like he saw his own wraith. Of course, my roll down on the wood was filled with nervous energy.
Durning zazen, I kept thinking- did I leave my cellphone on? Then I heard his familar voice during kusen, "Head presses the sky." So I forgot about it.
After ceremony, he mimicked our weak chanting and told us to be louder. He told me I played the mukugyo too fast. During mundo, I asked how we are supposed to take refuge in the three treasures and he told me that I sit on my Zafu crooked.
Perfect. Afterward, I felt inspired by his presence. I started editing our edition of Deshimaru's Hannya Shingyo. I watched Empire Strikes Back. I melted choclate chips and peanutbutter and mixed it with cereal.
Now I'll study for the GRE and get ready for bed.
I think I need a Shuso, or I'm going to spend my time in this temple like a 12 year old kid without parents.