A few years ago while I was writing my blog on Therafields
a friend recommended a book entitled Shoes Outside the Door by Michael Downing.
It recounts in sympathetic detail the events leading to a crisis in leadership
at the San Francisco Zen Centre a few years after the death of its founder,
Shunryu Suzuki. There were some parallels between the difficulties experienced
there and the events leading to the demise of the Therafields community,
problems afflicting many human institutions that achieve a concentration of
power over others. From that aspect it was certainly an interesting read. Even
more important to me personally though, was that it introduced me to Suzuki,
reflected in the work through Downing’s interviews with current and past
members of the community. Intrigued, I purchased David Chadwick’s bio of Suzuki
entitled Crooked Cucumber, a seemingly strange title for a biography of a loved
spiritual leader. It was a name laid upon him by his own Zen master and mentor
when he was a young acolyte, denoting affectionately some of his idiosyncratic
qualities.
Reading of Suzuki and then reading the collections of
his talks to his students in San Francisco, I was seriously smitten by his intelligence,
humanity, sense of humour, and his commitment to the young people who
gravitated toward him in the Bay area in the 1960s. For the next two years I
followed practices of meditation as he taught them. I found them to be not
significantly different from the kind of meditation that I had found myself
practicing while I was a member of a religious community during that same era.
I had never been able to “meditate” upon a text or idea of any kind. Gradually
my practice had become simply to be present in my body and to focus on my
breathing. In the space that this provided I experienced some of the deepest
inner, I would say, spiritual connections of my life. After this two year
period I decided for reasons I will not belabour here to discontinue the formal
daily practice of meditation. But Suzuki remains with me, a loved and
appreciated mentor, a man from whom I have learned much that has helped and
continues to help me in my daily life and work.
One practice that I have retained is to eat my
breakfast without reading. This may seem a trifling matter to most of you, but
it is a serious deviation from my regular activities. From my earliest days I
have sprung from the bed to the written word! Meals are almost always an
occasion for reading. Refraining from that accompaniment requires for me a
repeated and deliberate decision. What it gives to me is the following: a space
uncluttered by the quick-to-crowd-in events and challenges of the day, a space
wherein I catch up with myself and the ideas, interests, or concerns that
rattle around at a deeper, not always addressed level. It becomes an entry to
writing as this is invariably the time of day that I begin to render my
thoughts into sentences and paragraphs to send out into the great ether beyond.
The above is an example of what I am describing. I had
no intention of writing about Suzuki this morning. Rather I planned to detail
some of the interesting films that Mark and I have seen over the past ten days
or so. Sitting here with my cereal and coffee, I mused about this early morning
period of quiet and in short order found myself telling you about it, its
origin, and significance. So briefly, the movies: last night we attended
Russell Field’s yearly Canadian Sports Film Festival, this year held at the TIFF,
a serious jump in scale from its earlier incarnation at the Revue Cinema on
Roncesvalles Ave. Russell teaches sports history at the U of Manitoba in
Winnipeg. Each May he and a crowd of volunteers present films from all over the
world that focus on sports and their transformative functions in the lives of
many people. The film that we saw, Next Goal Wins, tells of the efforts of the
soccer team of American Samoa, a small, gorgeous Pacific island, to overcome
the infamy of a 31-0 FIFA loss to Australia over a decade earlier. Aside from
the fun of watching the practices and games as well as the beauty of the island
settings, the film showcased the spirit and intense dedication of this group of
young men (and one transgendered man/woman) to their sport, their country, and
each other. A FIFA coach, present at the screening and for a Q & A afterward,
had been parachuted in to upgrade the team’s skills and mental approach. Being
there, working with these lovely, hard working amateur players was as personally
transforming for him as it was for the team. In the qualifying round for FIFA
play the American Samoans won one game, tied one, and lost a third. They did not
qualify for the next round but they had accomplished a marked up-tick in their
collective abilities, achieving a never before attained mark of scoring goals
in FIFA competition. It was a quintessentially human film about struggle,
winning and losing, and the power of sport to potentially bring out the best in
people. The connection with war and battle, earlier ways of dealing with
inter-tribal/national competitions was clearly shown in the rallying mantras
the team used to psychic itself up pre-practice and game. Sport is a clear
winner over war when it comes to dealing with rivalry!!
Another documentary film that we saw at the Jewish
Film Festival recently held at the Bloor Cinema deserves at least a brief
mention. It is called Shekinah: The Intimate Life of Hasidic Women. Chanie
Carlebach is the wife of the rabbi at a Hassidic synagogue in St Agathe, PQ,
and the mother of 13 children. (Her 13th was born just after the
film was completed; she says she isn’t finished having children.) She also is
the founder of a seminary for Hassidic young women, aged about 18-20, who come from
afar to stay with her for two years as they prepare for their roles as wives,
mothers, and community teachers. Far from being dour and repressed, Chanie and
her students are beautiful and lively creatures, speaking openly about their
beliefs and presenting an argument for the entire absence of physical
connection with their spouses until after marriage, that surprises and yet intrigues
the high school students with whom they dialogue in St Agathe. The film is
opening this week, I believe, at the Carleton theatre.
Well, enough for today. There is no end to the great
things to attend and experience here in my lovely Annex. Today we will visit
with my little (?) brother Craig and his lively partner, Dale, showing off our
new place and walking with them through nearby Kensington market to find some
lunch. Adieu, kind friends, adieu.
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