It is the truth of the Tathagata's words. Well, it's my great joy and privilege to present to you tonight, Arun Jusop, a monk, Kosho Zenko. His name, Kosho, means ancient time. Japanese folk tradition, the pine stands for fidelity and constancy. And Zenko means complete flourishing, or complete opening, or complete flowering. And it's my hope that this, with the support of all of us, this practice period, that we will help and encourage this complete opening and flowering of Zenko.

[01:11]

So please, let's hear what he has to say. Thank you very much. Good evening, everyone. I'm glad that's over with. That was very difficult downstairs. I don't know if it showed, but I was falling all over myself. I'm sorry, Jeffrey, I tried. Most often, I don't really know how I come across to people. But I have a suspicion that, at least I feel, that I'm rather shy. Oftentimes, I can sort of cover that up, not well sometimes. But I notice that, especially in social situations, which involves two other people or more, for me, I really don't know what to say.

[02:13]

So I wanted to start by sharing a secret with you. I am one of the most fascinating people I have ever met. And if you're honest, can't you say the same thing about you? I mean, really. What I don't understand is, how is it we can sit next to each other at supper and have nothing to say? I mean, more fascinating people I have never come across before. It reminds me of something that Wendy Lewis said about when the Buddha was born. He took a few steps and said, I alone am the world-honored one. And she said, what young kid doesn't feel that way? So, yes, I wanted to let you know that. You know, I was trying to think. I've done this kind of a thing, not quite so high up before, a couple times.

[03:18]

And each time it's very different, depending on my point of view, I guess, my point of view about my life. And being here in San Francisco, I've never done it here. Well, I did it. Yes, I did. But ignore that. But I was up on the roof, and I remembered something my mother told me. That in 1945, when the Pacific War had just ended, by our surprise gifts to Japan, my father was on a, not a destroyer, but an aircraft carrier for four years out in the Pacific. Four years. At sea. Came back in 1945 to San Francisco. And was, I've seen pictures of him. Amazing. You wonder what happens to us, you know, as we get older. But when we're young, we're really, he was vibrant and exciting looking. And, yeah, I don't know what happened to that part of him later.

[04:24]

But at that time, he was very exciting. And he came here, and at the same time he came here, there was a woman who had just come and stayed at Oakland from Bath, Maine, of all places. And she just happened to come to town and met him on Market Street, just down here somewhere. And they got married and moved, for some reason, to Indiana. And then she, let's see, three years later, she was going to have a baby. And her father, who was in Bath, Maine, was dying. And so they both left for Bath and settled there for good. And at that time, under the air sign of Gemini, I was born. Which was quite an event for me, so I understand. See, to, has anybody ever been to Maine here?

[05:33]

All right, well, have you ever, did you see real Maine people or did you see tourists? Maine people are very different. Not like here. Not like this place, California, at all. We're very, like the culture that I come from is a very reserved culture. For example, like expressing emotions. Well, an example of that is, this is fear. This is anger. This is, this is joy. So, so along with that kind of emotional training, something went, something went awry in my family.

[06:36]

I have no idea why. But my father, let's see, he is a rather very spiritual person. Although I don't, although it's not something he really talked about. Maybe a couple times he mentioned some things and I thought, oh my goodness, that's interesting. And unfortunately, without a way, I think, to investigate or nurture that, he turned to the spirits. Liquor, instead. Well, I think, I think they're greatly, I think they're connected, actually. So, alcoholism became the primary mover in my family. And if any of you want to know more about that, I mean, just read the Children of Alcoholics. All the, all the manuals and textbooks about it. My particular role in my family was the hero. I was the firstborn. Firstborn and brightest. Please pardon me, I don't get to, I can't chance to talk like this much.

[07:40]

And then five years later, the other three came along. And so, my role in the family was the hero. And even now, even now, after all this stuff, therapy, years and years of therapy, years, eleven years as Zen center, even now, I can still, when something goes wrong or there's a crisis, I can still see out of the corner of my eye that white charger there, waiting for me to jump on him and ride in and save the day. Which never worked, incidentally. So, the hero was my role. For those of you who know the Jungian Myers-Briggs type indicator, I'm INFP. Enneagram fans, a solid five. Solid five. That's about it, I think, for being typed.

[08:42]

Yeah, so, at any rate, so in an alcoholic family, you're given three directives. One is don't feel, don't talk and don't trust. So, with that, this is the background that I come from. Also, in my family, it was the strangest thing, because my mother's father died when they came back to Maine. Her great-grandfather, who was German, who lived in Bath, shot himself in the head, killed himself. And that effectively wiped out my family history for some reason. Nobody ever talked about it, that whole side of the family. I knew nothing beyond my grandmother. On my father's side, his mother died when he was five. And his father took off, same time. So, he was abandoned and raised by his grandparents. And I never knew anything about their family either. So, I never had roots.

[09:46]

When I was growing up, we moved 13 times in the same town, Bath. So, I never knew roots or any kind of family history. And we had no ritual life either. You know, some families do the same things over and over every year and make big parties with extended families and all. Never happened. So, I was kind of, I think of myself as kind of lost during those years. Not really belonging. And not knowing that anything was wrong either. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's like a fish in water. You don't ask a fish, how's the water? It's a stupid question. So, I didn't particularly know I was suffering. So, A Way Seeking Mind talk, the purpose is to show what brought us to practice. As I look back now, you know, well, as I was going through it, I had no idea. I mean, I had my own ideas. I mean, I had my own goals and purposes and tried very hard to make my life go my way, which was interesting at most.

[10:55]

But I can look back now, after 50 years, and see that it was all fine. It really was perfect. One of the high points of my life was when I heard Blanche give that talk, when I was at Tassajara, how, you know, Suzuki Roshi's thing about, you're perfect, just as you are, which made no sense to me at all. But I was intrigued. And so, looking back now, I can see that it was just fine. You know, massive karma from my father's family, from himself, from my mother's family, from herself, you know, from the town. Massive karma just sort of pushing me on, urging me on. And with my mistakes, my karma, pushing me into that ditch, then pushing me into that ditch, then bringing me back. So it was just right, and I'm really thankful for it. Oh, at any rate, so, for some reason, my father and I were at war, continually at war, continually.

[11:57]

It was amazing. We fought and screamed and yelled all the time, which was very against my nature as a main person, who doesn't show anything. But at least he could trigger it. He could pull it out. And we fought tooth and nail. Oh, another thing that's rather important is that, so, you know Quasimodo? You know, picture Quasimodo. You know, that kind of bent-over, small person who is always expecting the next blow? That's who I was inside. That's what it was like inside. Always on the alert. I remember being in an advanced therapy group. It was an advanced personal growth or something. And I remember acting that out. How do you feel? How do you feel? What's that look like? And I was all bent over, and my father was on my shoulders,

[12:59]

you know, pushing me down. So, the only reason I mention that is what will become obvious in a minute. So then, we weren't really churchy too much. We went to the Congregational Church. It was a pretty building. It was nice. It was tall, sort of neo-Gothic. I liked that a whole lot. I liked being in it. I thought the minister talked too much. Words never quite made it to me, because I never trusted words too much. But then, something happened. My cousin came to visit. I was 19, 19, 18. And she had just become an Episcopalian. And so she said, will you take me to church? Church? So I did. But I did. I went with her. And that Sunday, I don't remember what it was, but it was wonderful. There were all these people up there in robes and candlelight. And the priest had on this white outfit that sparkled and had a big red thing on it.

[14:05]

And it was wonderful. And they had this big thurible. It's the incense job that hangs by chains. Oh, it's wonderful. Actually, a big long chain, this thing at the end that has incense flowing out. I just wag it all over the place. I had never seen anything like that in my life. But I wanted more of it. In fact, I looked at this priest moving so graciously. I mean, he turned out to be kind of a creep, actually. But then, at that point, he was beautiful. And the way he held his hands and the way he did things very deliberately with such dignity, worth, and a sense of presence. I saw that and, hmm, I want that. That's what I need. That's the medicine I need. So, let's see. So, I went to college with the sole purpose of studying to go to seminary.

[15:10]

That's all I wanted to do. And college was quite an eye-opener in a lot of ways. So, here was this little tight, stooped little boy from Bath, Maine. Went to college. Let's see. The last semester of my senior year was an extraordinary event. Somebody came up with acid and mescaline, once, big mistake, and grass. And I must have been drunk or something. So, I did acid quite a bit, actually, quite a few times. And it was, well, I suppose, I suspect those of you who have done that know what I'm talking about. Those of you who haven't, forget it. It doesn't matter. But for once in my whole life, I saw that maybe the way that I see it, maybe that's not the case. Little doubt was in there. Maybe it's not.

[16:11]

Maybe the world isn't so rigid and narrow and oppressive and makes you want to just run for your life. So, that was great. And then I went to seminary. Oh, I also found out that I was gay. That was a terrible shock for somebody from Bath, Maine. It just, it didn't happen. There weren't any others, just me. I found out, of course, years later that that wasn't true. So, I went to seminary and expected all this stuff was going to stop. All of this stuff. Parties, drinking, drugs, and sexual experimentation. Well, actually, I mean, it wasn't really a big problem because I knew it was going to stop once I got to seminary. It didn't. But it went on to enrich my life. I'll leave it at that.

[17:15]

Also, so I finished seminary. I took about, let's see, I took a year off because my bishop still wasn't sure if I was a human being yet. Also, I met him, my bishop, Fred Wolfe, who just died a couple weeks ago. He, let's see, I was 26, I think he was 45. And he was the first genuinely kind man I had ever met in my life. I am so grateful to him. He wasn't sure about me at first, although I think I reminded him of himself, which didn't hurt in terms of his liking me. But he eventually took me under his wing as his protege. With, of course, all the problems that come with that. Have you ever had a head honcho like you and have to live with the people that, well, for me it was the other clergy.

[18:20]

Oh, they didn't like that too much. So I got to see a side of priests that I never knew existed. That's why I alluded to my parish priest as a creep. He turned out to be that way. So that was very, very difficult and I couldn't understand. But at any rate, so I met this guy. And I talked with him about going off to a monastery, becoming a monk, which I've always wanted to do, ever since I found out there were such things. Still. Still on the planet. But at about that time, I met a man my age, a young man my age. And we both fell in love and stayed together, karmically, if not literally, for about 20 years. 20 years. That was making for a very rich part of my life.

[19:25]

And I must apologize to him when I talk to him next for having put him through so much. Because I bet it's hard being partnered with somebody who wants to be partnered and also wants to be a monk. I mean, that must be very painful. So, at any rate, so I didn't go off to the monastery. Instead, I went to a little teeny tiny parish in Maine, Jefferson, Maine. Nobody knows where it is. It's near the capital of the state, Augusta, Maine, which is even worse than this awful place. So I was there three years, and lo and behold, the senior warden, who was the one I had to work with most in the parish, was just like my dad, just like my father. And so we met, and it was nice, and then we were at war. At war.

[20:25]

I think pretty much he was alcoholic, and the junior warden, who was supposed to be my personal support, was alcoholic. And so it became a control match. Who was in charge of this place? Because this parish was, we call it low church, which means very Protestant, not too much ritual, don't like ritual. Not too fancy, just keep it like something would happen in your dining room or something. And here I had been trained in the other end, high church, not broad church or low church, but high church. And bells and smells, the works was just fine with me, and in fact, I insist. So that was an interesting little time we had. But after a year and a half, the hold that these few folks had on the parish, and had had for years, was broken.

[21:29]

I said, well, let's see, either they go, or I go, finally. And we brought in the bishop and all. And then, so I stayed for another year and a half, and decided to go off to a monastery. Later on, years later, I would find out that whenever I'm burnt out, I have this incredibly strong monastic vocation sense. Which at least now I can say, why don't I just say, get me out of here, instead of, I think I ought to go to a monastery. I realized this at Tassajara, when I felt, I have to go to a monastery. It takes a while, but you catch on. So, but instead of going off to a monastery, the Benedictines, the bishop said, why don't you come be my assistant. And I said, well, okay, when?

[22:33]

He said, well, a year. Well, geez, what am I going to do between now and then? So what I ended up doing was working for the Kennebunk-Kennebunkport Wells Water District for a year. And what we did was we went out to these, in Kennebunkport, where Richard Baker is from, as I understand, we would crawl into these summer cottages and take out the water meters for the winter. It was dirty, it was messy, it was blue-collar, incredibly blue-collar, and I loved every minute of it. It was wonderful. And the guy that I was partners with, he was wonderful. And we had really good conversations. We had very, very deep, to the point, straight, frank. So that was great. So then I went to work for the bishop, which was really, for those first few years, like the bishop's chisha, or jiko.

[23:34]

In other words, I would follow him. I'd go into a place, set it all up for him, then I'd follow him in and pick up things that fell off him. He was, last time I went to see him, he'd had a stroke and was really, he was eating, sort of. And it was really messy. And I was helping him clean up some stuff. Just one little thing. He said, would you hand me a Kleenex, please? Because he made a mess. And so he said, he took it and he said, you know, I never really learned how to use these. Because he was from the old school of handkerchief. One for showing and one for blowing inside. One of the things I loved about him most was listening to him talk.

[24:37]

Because he had that old school, you know, a couple generations back ways of saying things. Oh, it would be so touching. He would say, come out with something, and I would think, oh, what an interesting way to put it. He was great that way. Where was I? Blowing. Oh, he said that you were always, you were always so nice to me. You didn't make fun of me because I was so clumsy. And I said, oh, Fred, geez. You know, when you put on your robes and were in church, you were the most graceful thing I'd ever seen in my life. And he was. He couldn't, he didn't do well outside of church, though. One time we'd stopped in this little teeny tiny town and got gas. And he got out of the car to go into the store. And he, the gas cable thing got wrapped around his leg and he dragged it for about 20 feet before it let go of him. And he got back in the car and I said, you know, Fred, it's not that you're clumsy.

[25:40]

It's just that you require much more space than is ever available. So I did kid him, actually, on those things. Oh, well, so at any rate, so the other part of it was I was pretty much in charge of his spiritual life. I made sure that we did church continuously and that we talked. I sort of became his confessor. And we prayed a lot together, prayed a lot. And at that point I was beginning to wonder, what really is this prayer business? And I had begun reading the mystics, the Christian mystics. And for example, I came across words like from Maestro Eckhart who said, Between God and your own soul, there is no between. And the eye with which God sees you is the same eye that you see God. And I went, what the hell does this mean? What is this?

[26:43]

Because you know it's true. You know it's true. You know, the kind of stuff that we hear here. It doesn't make any sense, but you know it's true. It's hitting something very deep. So I wanted more of that, too. Greed has been the mainstay of my spiritual life. So I looked into, I started going around trying to find what prayer was. And it wasn't very helpful going to clergy, actually, as it turns out. But usually what they thought prayer was, was sit down and fold your hands and talk a lot. Or open the prayer book and start reading. Or even worse, open the Bible and start reading. And none of that was any help to me. So I started looking into things like Jesus Prayer. You know, all those few techniques. But they were very verbal, which didn't help me too much. Because remember, I don't trust words too much. So, how's my time, incidentally? Would somebody let me know if I've gone past ten? Ten o'clock?

[27:45]

What time is it, Christine? Eight through five. Okay. An hour and a half. Let's see. So, I started hearing some things about Zen. An old friend of mine had sent me a copy of Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. But it was Buddhist. So I kind of thumbed through it. Pagan. Pagan heathen. So, I had begun to soften just a bit. Because I had been at some workshops where they used guided meditation. And that felt real nice. And I was beginning to soften up a little bit around that. And it reminded me, geez, this is what acid was like. It kind of opens up doors and windows. So, let me sort of cut to the chase here.

[28:49]

I heard about a Zen teacher in Cambridge, Massachusetts. And so I went down there. And it was Maureen Stewart. Some of you may know her. And I sat there. And it was just all totally foreign to me. I didn't know anything. I didn't know what they were talking about. I didn't know the language. They were moving around strange. You know, bowing and things. And she was very... If you've seen her... I don't know how she was socially. She might have been really pleasant. But when she was a Zen teacher, it was... She had the meanest look. But I was so new to it. I didn't know enough to even be afraid of her. So I went into her room. And here she was sitting. She looked so formidable. But I didn't know. So I just started talking with her.

[29:50]

Anyway, so I worked with her some for a year. And stuff began to sink into me. And one of the important things of my life has been that I have been so fortunate to live a ceremonial ritual life. From when I first went into the church. I know some people just hate it with a passion. And I'm really sorry. Because for me, it was something that saved my life. Do you remember Quasimodo? Well, when you're doing ritual, you don't do that. You are straight. You're tall. You're full of grace. Dignity. And whether you believe it or not, it doesn't matter. Because the body never lies. Ever. Ever. Never lies. So if you keep doing this enough, it becomes you. It becomes you. I called Bob,

[30:52]

my former partner today, asking him, how the hell did I get to Green Gulch? And he didn't remember. But anything I want to know about my life, I have to ask him. Because he remembers everything. I remember nothing. So most of this talk comes from him, actually. At any rate, somehow I heard about Green Gulch Farm. And he said, well, why don't you just go do it? Just go do it. And I thought, oh, geez, it's so far away. And I don't know any of the people. What will I do? But at any rate, I came. I came out here. Walked through. Came from the airport, I guess, somehow. And walked through this door. Smelled that smell. And I said, oh, my God, I'm home. What did I know from Japanese incense or Japanese anything? But I walked through the door, and I was home. And one of the first people I talked to was Paul Haller. And I started to do the practice period here. But thought, oh, this isn't hard enough.

[31:56]

One of my, let's see, maybe character traits or something is self-denial is no problem. The harder it is, of course, what do I expect? Something easy? So I said, I don't think this is hard enough for me. I don't know if you remember this conversation. But he said, well, gee, why don't you go to Green Gulch then? So I did. I went to Green Gulch. And the first person I met there, oh, we went, no, it was night. I went in a van that left here. And we got there dark at night. And we went on those windy roads. And I get carsick. So I thought, oh, I'm going to die before I get there. How fitting. But I finally got there. Excuse me. And nobody was waiting for me. So they knock on somebody's door, and out comes this woman. Blanche. It was Blanche.

[32:58]

And I didn't have a sleeping bag, so she gave me a sleeping bag. And, oh, so, important, most important thing that happened for me there. We were at service. And this woman priest comes out, does a bow, full bow. And I am astounded at the grace of this woman. The presence and the incredible dignity. Dignity, important for me. Especially body dignity. So I thought, oh, I want that. That's who I want to be. And so, for the next years, I'll try to hurry on. For the next years, it was mainly a conflict between, are you a Christian or are you a Buddhist? When I first got there, I was a very arrogant Christian. And I thought Buddhists were kind of cute. And I thought their words were rather gentle. Not kill-em, Christian words. And I looked at the people a lot.

[33:59]

I noticed the people. And they were kind. In fact, when I heard that the practice was to become kind, I thought, whoa, what planet am I on? Because as a Christian, we were trained to be right. And above all, dominant. Excuse me. So, let me just check. Oh, let's see. I think probably something else happened. Well, for about eight years after, when my bishop retired, I retired with him. And we opened a counseling practice together. And we did counseling for people who, people who were referred to me from a physician. People who were like a wreck. Or sensing that there was something deeper in their life. And so I would work one-on-one with folks. Excuse me. Supported myself that way. And then I came out here. And when I got here, I said, oh, this is where I want to be.

[35:01]

And so I did. Okay. Oh, one of the things that I noticed about myself, it might be true with you, I don't know. But if you're suffering, at least what I did was, I knew what medicine would work to help them. You know what I mean? Like, I gave the medicine. I wanted to help others. By giving them what I needed. What I really needed. And some young guy at Tassajara, I told him what I, he asked me what I'd done with my life. And I told him, and he said, geez, looks like you spent all your life trying to help other people. Seems like now you're trying to take your own medicine. And that's what's really happened, that's what it's been for me to be in Zen Center. I'm trying to, finally swallowing my own medicine. Do you know what I mean? Like, we all try to help somebody by giving them what we really need. You know? So. Okay, so, Tassajara.

[36:04]

Finally went there. Don't know why. When I was at Green Gulch, people would describe Tassajara, no heat, no light. Sit all the time. Hurt. No thanks. I had no doubt about it. I never wanted to go there. But then, when the time was right. When the time was right, Barbara. Barbara. Barbara Kohn. Came up, and I was saying, oh gee, should I go, should I not? I don't know if I'm really that whiny, but I like to do that. It's fun. She said, look. If you've got the time, if you've got the money. Doesn't matter who's leading it. Just do it. I said, okay. So I did. And it was. It was perfect. It was a perfect combination. All the years of therapy, I think. Helped me get an ego that could cross the street. By itself. Without getting into trouble. And by the time I got to Tassajara, I was ready to go in for the real stuff.

[37:06]

Incidentally, one of the great things this practice has given me is what I call, for me, is the fundamental Buddhist question. Which is, what the hell is this? What's going on? What's going on? Once you get past, it's their fault. It's all their fault. Which took 30 years. Then you can start to ask the real question. What is this? What's happening? What's actually happening? So, I knew, because people had told me that I had been one of these rage people. Cold rage. All my life. It leaked out, usually, in biting, nasty sarcasm. When I think of some of the stuff I've said to people. So there was this real burning fire. Which I really didn't know was there, actually. But, at our first session, Blanche was leading that practice period. That's why I asked her to be my teacher.

[38:10]

Because she was so great during that time. I finally, I won't go into what it was exactly, but I finally found out what the problem was. You know, where the wound was. And cried for two days. People from Maine don't cry. Ever. I cried for two days. And I noticed that the fire had gone out. It's sort of like going into a room where there's this big couch that you always fall over. Well, all of a sudden it wasn't there. I missed it. But life was so much more pleasant. But the fire went out. I also knew something had happened. When there was a bug crawling on my wall. Oh, I don't like bugs. Spiders are worse than snakes for me. But there was this bug crawling on my wall. And I couldn't kill it. I mean, I didn't want to kill it. It's not that I shouldn't. When anybody says, should to me, all that means is rebellion.

[39:15]

But this wasn't a should. This was, I don't do that anymore. It was really no big deal, but it was a big deal. So I knew something had happened. And my trust in this practice grew and grew. All right, so, oh, lots of other things. But I guess we've got time. I just wanted to leave something with you. The most important thing. I wanted to mention the most important thing. And what that made me remember was the last time I saw Fred Wolfe in Maine. He was leaning, he was sitting there over his mashed potato mess there. And he said, you know, I'm 94 years old. He's actually 76. But he said, I'm 94 years old. And you know what the most important thing I've learned is? And at that moment, Jolly Nurse, not from Maine,

[40:23]

Jolly Nurse comes in and says, Mr. Wolfe, how was your lunch? Are you okay? Do you need some milk? And you know, I never found out. So, thank you. Thanks. So I wanted to not do that to you. The most important thing that I've learned so far is that you can trust your life. You can trust the process. You can trust it. Because it's all working with you. I mean, it's all working with you. Zazen is the tool. That's the tool that will keep you connected to the truth, to what's really happening. Use it. Also, well, this is my piece of advice. Use Zazen to find out what the hell's going on. Also, use the practice leaders. You can trust them.

[41:23]

It took me two years to be able to trust the practice leaders. Not because of them. Because they were fine. One thing I've learned being on the practice committee is I have never, I'm sorry, I tend to exaggerate, but this is true. I have never run across a bunch of so-called religious people that were so honest and kind and compassionate and smart. So, for what it's worth, you can trust them. Use them. Because they're good. You said that just like we told you. That's right. You can trust them. I'm sorry to embarrass you all, but it's fun to embarrass you. So, and the thing that has brought you this far, I mean, think of all the things you've come through. What you have suffered. The victories you've experienced.

[42:25]

Your hearts have opened, become bigger. You can trust it, because it only gets better, as far as I can tell. And Buddha nature will carry you along. So, I think that's probably enough. Shall we say goodnight? Thank you very much.

[42:47]

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