Tag Archives: favorite things

tassajara

{01 August 2010}

last weekend was an experiment in being off the grid; for my birthday my brother and sister-in-law treated me to a weekend at Tassajara, the san francisco zen center’s monastery in the ventana wilderness. most of the year Tassajara is a closed and working monastery, but they open up to guest season for a few months each summer. as a mountain retreat, they got it right. getting there isn’t easy: the road in to the center of the remote valley is the bumpiest, steepest, toughest 14 miles of dirt road i’ve ever encountered (even having grown up driving around the backwoods of idaho), so it’s not a trip to undertake lightly, and there’s no quick trips back to town once you’re there. the sense of isolation is complete. they have the required amenities (running water, delicious vegetarian food), but not the unnecessary ones (electricity, internet/phone service). this works because: kerosene lanterns are charming, but outhouse stink is not.

staying at Tassajara is the opposite of being on a cruise ship. rather than providing a day full of activities, Tassajara provides a beautiful, open space, in which guests can just slow down for a little while. there isn’t much to do besides hike, read, nap, and bathe in the beautiful bathhouses (fed by natural hotsprings). zen practice is available for those who want to participate, and though i am fascinated by it (my dojo in chicago also served as a zen temple and many of the aikidoka i trained with were also zen students), it also terrifies me. seriously, the thought of sitting sesshin for five days makes me feel panicky. i can’t even get up the nerve to attend a half-hour zazen. it’s an understatement to say that i have trouble with being still. i’m quite aware that this is something i need to come to terms with. just…i’ll get there when i’m ready. until then i creep around the edges, with things like aikido and yoga and hanging around monasteries as a guest.

in spite of the fact that i’m normally an action-packed-adventure vacationer, there really is something profound about a vacation in which there’s nothing to do. i noticed that i walk differently when i’m not in a hurry. (and i’m pretty much always in a hurry). my posture changes, i relax muscles that are normally tensed, my whole gait & posture change. and this transformation was almost immediate. within minutes of arriving, i found my whole body felt different. while hiking i’d catch myself trying to push further, faster – get some cardio exercise, or see what was around the next bend. and then i’d remind myself to try being deliberate in my actions, just to see what it’s like. there’s nothing i have to accomplish with this hike, no time i’m due back. to notice where i walk, what i see, what the path feels like under my feet. i’d grasp that focus for a few moments, then it would slip away again. like all unfamiliar habits, it only comes through practice. a practice i’m not quite ready to undertake, but i know it’s out there. but for the short duration of the vacation, i found that going off the grid was easier than it seemed. its like quitting a job you’ve worked very hard at. quitting seems like it’ll be agonizing, but once you actually pack up your things and leave, it’s easier to detach than you thought it was going to be (is there an echo of a zen lesson in here? yeah yeah, shut up little bird on my shoulder.)

also, i knocked off a 101 in 1001 list item, by the way — skinny dipping in the creek.

my street, 10:15am

{16 December 2007}

possibly the only thing more magical than a heavy blanketing snow fall late at night is waking up to 8″ of deep fluffy snow under blue skies and shimmering sunlight.

it was *perfect* snow frisbee conditions, but unfortunately arrived a day too late for this week’s game. still, i went running along the lake, and it was supremely beautiful.

my street, 1:15am

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this kind of snow – 6″ deep, powdery fluffy, relentless – it delights me in a way that makes me laugh out loud like a little kid. i have knee-high wellingtons that let me stomp through the drifts, shuffling, because they are too big (i bought them, the smallest men’s size i could find, at a k-mart one night after experiencing my first buffalo blizzard). the blanket of snow muffles the sounds of the city, softens all the sharp corners, hides the dirt. everything is clean, draped in graceful white curves, the little architectural details on old buildings and iron fences highlighted.

(also, coming home from work at 1am, i won the parking lottery my first trip round the block — so that probably helped my outlook. that, and the fact that as i approached the house, i could see our christmas tree twinkling in the window, and knew the radiators would be clanking away, a sleepy cat waiting to greet me, and i have the time to sleep late tomorrow.) home is good.

today’s favorite things

{13 February 2007}

since i started labeling my posts it’s made me aware of the fact that i post more rants than i post odes to my favorite things. so this post is in the spirit of achieving balance.

today, my 3 favorite things are:

i. my forest green wellies with bright yellow laces. i only get to wear these when the snow fall is deeper than about 6″. they’re too big and slop around my ankles and make me feel like a little kid with hand-me-down moon boots on. remember moon boots?

ii. the fact that the Atlantic Theatre in Florida is advertising “The Hoo-Haa Monologues” on their marquee, because some patron walked by and was offended by seeing “Vagina” in giant letters. finally, we have a national consensus on how to spell hoo-haa.

iii. my grandfather’s sense of humor. on sunday night at dinner my sister-in-law was talking about how the german version of TSA had tried to take away her knitting needles at a security check point. without missing a beat, my grandfather said, “they’re afraid you’re going to knit an afghan.” the joke’s been done before, but he clearly made it up on the spot. i can only hope to be that sharp when i’m 90.