I’ve left Zen Mountain Monastery, even though it feels like I just arrived. With its high density and diversity, there’s so to see much in the region between the Catskills and New York City that I can’t stay anywhere for too long.
I began the day with a long meditation, which I managed to get through with minimal pain, and a tour of the grounds. One of my favorite places on the land here is the cemetery, which includes the resting place of Taizan Maezumi Roshi, the founder of the monastery. As Buddhists are cremated, only a few remnants of bone and teeth are actually in the grave. Also, if you notice, the grave markers to the left and the right of the shrine are made of wood, so they will decompose and fade, leaving no lasting trace:
Also, as I journeyed up, I was greeted with this view of Mount Tremper, known affectionately as Mount Zion. New initiates to the monastic order often journey to the top as part of their training:
But after lunch, I simply sat on a bench outside the main building, thinking and preparing myself. A man named Zeki came up to me, and we had a great conversation about his past, moving from Turkey to Europe to America, and changing faiths along the way.
Zeki, short for Zekariah, was born in Istanbul to Christian parents. He was an activist, and spoke proudly of his work to preserve the Hagia Sofia, which was to be turned into a mosque many years ago. Goosebumps rose on his arms as he spoke of the beauty of the church, and how inside Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and even Buddhist influences flow in spirals from the ceiling.
A Buddhist who often goes by his dharma name Zenki now, he still draws from his Christian upbringing and many other faiths. And he told me that what I am doing is inspirational.
In my travels I’ve heard that I’m an inspiration, a messenger, and a teacher numerous times – from waitresses, congregants, hotel managers, etc. And it always bothers me. I set out on this journey to be a learner and a recorder, to be inspired. I’m 26, I wasn’t raised in a religious household, and while I’ve been studying different religions for about a decade, that doesn’t make me an expert.
I came to Quakerism a few years ago and adopted it as my personal faith, but even though I feel rather solid in it, meeting people of other faiths can still shake my foundations. How can it not? How can I not see Mormons, who are so confident in their truth and secure in their salvation and want that for myself? Or Shakers, who understand the land so well and can sway like the willow to whatever life throws at them? Or Zen Buddhists, who can serenely transcend the material world?
Rather than build me up, this trip has broken me down. Sometimes, I feel farther from God than I’ve ever been, and my personal light feels unreachable. Often, I just want to go home.
This has hit me especially hard at Zen Mountain Monastery, for I was reminded of an old teaching of the Buddha. Paraphrasing, he said that religion is often like a teacher pointing at the moon. Many students may accidentally take the finger for the moon, confusing the teachings themselves with what should be learned from them. At Zen Mountain, I heard another permutation of the old saying, which included the urging not to waste time “comparing the finger with other fingers.” It hit me like a brick.
Is that not just what I’m doing? Sure, there may be many different paths to enlightenment, but if you jump from one path to another, are you ever moving forward or just going sideways? Skimming the surface of many religions — or worse, treating religions like a smorgasbord and taking what you want from them — is not nearly as fulfilling as delving into one wholeheartedly.
The weight of these issues has been pulling me down, to the point where I feel like I’m falling apart.
“But that’s the whole point,” said Zeki. “You can’t put a puzzle together without first dumping out all the pieces. You have to be broken down until there’s nothing left but the core of your being, the light within you, and go from there.”
So I guess I’m off to find more pieces.
