I showed up to the Monastery addicted to cocaine, cigarettes, weed, ecstasy, and anything else that could numb the pain of my self-hatred.
I had travelled over 4000 miles by airplane, bus, and train and a long, awkward drive with two monks in the middle of the night to meet….my Teacher, Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh. I was taken to an old Stone Building, a place of solitude and reflection, and quietly shown my bunk as the other 15 men slept.
And instead of feeling joy for having arrived and living my dream, all I could think was, "How far do I have to go for a smoke?". It was pitch black, I was thousands of miles from home, and the shock of reality kicked in. I am at a Zen Monastery.
"What the fuck am I doing here?"
I had envisioned some utopia and imagined my misery would somehow disappear in this magical place, Plum Village. When in fact, my first few days consisted of me looking for opportunities to smoke, avoiding people because I smelled like smoke, and constantly being told to "be more mindful and quieter."
As I began withdrawing from the drugs, I became very manic and disruptive to the point of almost being kicked out.
I confessed my drug addiction and pleaded with the Abbott to let me stay. I had given up my job, leased out my house, planned for months and spent thousands of dollars to get there. He said I had ignored the rules by showing up addicted to drugs and that it was a Monastery, not a rehab. He told me to go back to the bunk room, and he would have to discuss my fate with the other monks.
I had been kicked out of bars before for being too messed up by bouncers, not monks. The other men were complaining about me. Imagine that! How nonjudgemental of them.
The 3-month retreat, a period of intense self-reflection and spiritual growth, had not even begun, nor had I met Thay or received any of his teachings. Then, as I awaited their decision, I became extremely ill with diarrhea. This would be my hope. Indeed, they would not expect me to travel sick.
As the old door creaked open, I could see the silhouette of the Abbott walking towards me. My roommate's nervousness was palpable. The moment of truth had arrived. 'Pack up your stuff and meet me back at the office immediately,' the Abbott's poker face revealed nothing.
As soon as he left, I ran down the stairs to the toilets and threw up. I returned and grabbed my things. All my life was in a Knapsack, so it did not take long. I said goodbye to my roommates, hoping to make them feel as guilty as possible for having me kicked out.
I sat down, barely able to look the Abbot in the eyes. "I have good news," he said. I looked up. "Luckily, your friend Gary is well respected here, and he vouched for you, so the monks voted to let you stay. I hear you have become ill." "Yes, my brother, I have gotten very stomach sick." He said it happens frequently with people from foreign countries.
"But why did you have me pack up my bags?" I asked. We are moving you where you can not bother others," he replied. Do they have a jail here?" I wondered jokingly.
We entered a building I had yet to be inside. We walked up the 100-year-old stairs and came upon the door to my new home. He opened the door, and I could not believe my eyes: My own room, with my own bed, my own shower, a skylight and even a mini library. I was never so sick and so happy in my life.
"You will stay here for the next few days until you are ready to return to the community. The monks will bring you your meals, massage you and do what it takes to help you heal. You can relax now." That was all he said before leaving.
My hardened heart softened a little, and I cried tears of gratitude. I had not paid for this. This room was for wealthy people who visited the Monastery. I had gone from the Barn to the Ritz.
Over the next few days, I stayed in bed reading, going to the toilet, and being cared for by a team of monks. I did not know their names yet, so all I could say was "Thank you, brother," which I would say a million times over the coming months.
My mind began to heal, the mania becoming a serenity I had never felt before. But I was losing a lot of weight as my diarrhea persisted into my second week. Thay was giving his first teaching on Sunday, and I was determined to see him for the first time.
Sunday came, and I lied to the Abbot, saying I was better…. anything to finally meet my precious Teacher. We piled onto the bus in the darkness at 5:00 a.m. and headed down to the other Hamlet, where he would teach that day.
As soon as we arrived, I discreetly found which toilet was closest to the hall and made my first visit. We were told that when Thay was teaching, it was considered very rude to get up and leave the room, no matter what, so I would not be able to go once I went inside.
Hundreds of us sat meditating in anticipation of his arrival. People from all over the world come together in hopes that this man will help relieve our suffering.
Suddenly, I could feel the air change, and goosebumps spread all over my body. As he entered the room, the sun had just risen over the horizon, and everything stood still. I broke from my meditative gaze to look behind me. I could not help myself. My eyes met with his, and I immediately looked away and pretended I was meditating. He was not the smiling monk I had expected. He looked like he held the pain of all humanity in his heart.
He took his seat facing all of us and joined us in meditation. He was like a mountain, and yet he was also like space. I was just a mundane human looking for redemption.
We sat for a while, and then Thay and the monks and nuns performed the chant to Avalokiteshvara. Check it out here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntBfYFFlbV8.
It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life. I cried for twenty minutes as I realized why I had given up my life and travelled so far to be in the presence of this man. Once again, I could feel my heart softening. Unfortunately, I could also feel my belly churning, and we still had two hours before I could leave the hall.
Finally, the moment I had been waiting for. He stood up and went to the Whiteboard to begin his teaching. It was so quiet, and despite the size of the room and the hundreds of people, you could hear the squeaky sound of the marker as he began to share his wisdom on the blank space of the Whiteboard and our attentive, impressionable minds, hanging onto every word.
Despite the luminosity of the moment, I knew I would never make it without having to go to the bathroom soon. If I had known, I may have brought diapers. Indeed, that would be better than breaking the rule of leaving the room while he was teaching. I had already been in so much trouble, and I did not want to let the monks down after all the care they had given me.
But I could not control nature, and I had to go. Before I moved, I waited for Thay to turn his back to us to write on the Whiteboard on the board. I was already close to the back of the room, so I figured I could get away with it. I quietly made my way to the glass door, looked to ensure nobody was watching me, and slowly opened it just enough to squeeze out of there. I released my grip a little too soon, and a gust of wind slammed the door shut, and everyone, including Thay, looked to see me leaving.
Mortified, I ran straight to the toilet without looking back. I went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Also, now I could not reenter and would miss the next 90 minutes of his teaching. I should have gone home when I had the chance; now, it would look like I gave up out of self-pity.
I kept going to the toilet and then back to the hall, thinking I would get invited back in if someone saw me. Eventually, I gave up and sat outside the hall with my face in my hands, defeated.
Then I felt that feeling again. The hairs standing up on the back of my neck. I looked up, and the Zen Master was looking right at me. I stood up as he began to walk towards me. Oh fuck. Now I am in trouble!
He smiled as if to read my mind, assuring me everything was ok. He approached me and held my hand without saying a word. Besides a handshake, I had never held another man's hand before. I felt completely vulnerable and naked. With his other hand, he motioned for us to walk. I wondered if he was taking me to scold me, away from everyone.
Instead, we walked about 300 meters into a bamboo grove. Thay is known for his "walk." He only walks at one speed, like someone who has all the time in the world, and that time is NOW!
As we entered the Bamboo Grove, it was hollowed out inside and had a bench for sitting. At Plum Village, there were many little nooks to get away and contemplate.
We sat down together. With my heart pounding and belly churning, he put one arm around my shoulder, drawing me into him. I looked into his eyes, and one tear reflected my true nature. His look told me to stop being a victim and that I was every bit as special as he was…no more, no less.
After a few minutes of silence, while I waited for him to share the wisdom I had travelled so far to receive, he pointed with his other hand up to a lone bird sitting on a branch, and for the second time, he smiled, saying nothing.
He then motioned for me to stay and 'enjoy' the stillness - the silence was deafening as joy washed over me. At that moment, my entire world, as I had known it, would never be the same. My illness had left, and so too had my cravings. I threw my cigarettes along with my self-hatred away that day.
That was in 2007, and although I picked up smoking and did a whole lot more drugs after returning from the Monastery to this day, my heart has never stopped softening.
Sometimes, when I see a lone bird, I cry, remembering my moment with my Zen Master, the only Teacher I have ever trusted with all my being.
Oddly enough, the name I received at the Monastery was "Unwavering Serenity of the Heart."
Comments