One last adrenalin rush en route to meditation week

Today is the day. We’re off to a meditation intensive. Three of us will drive down to Seattle to participate in the summer sesshin at Chobo-ji. We will sit in the beautiful city temple there, 16 hours a day for seven days. There will be chanting, sitting and walking meditation, formal meal practice, dharma talks and interviews with the Zen teacher, Osho Genjo Marinello.

There is so much to do to get ready. I’m frankly stressed — oh, the irony of it. All the preliminaries, registration, getting time off work, negotiating with family members for the care of the house and cat are nothing compared with the stress of meeting last-minute volunteer deadlines, including writing two articles on what it’s like to live life as a Zen priest.

Between software upgrades where I work at the public library, volunteering for the Zenwest Buddhist Society, being one of the chaplains on the multifaith chaplain team at the University of Victoria, trying to be present for my family, and maintaining house and garden, I find myself falling back on old habits to get through the day.

Hello coffee and bingeing on TV episodes.

Over the past eight years of dedicated daily meditation practice, I’ve managed to eke out a time in my day for quiet, still, Zen meditation. I’ve slowly been able to increase that small quiet time to 45 minutes every morning. I’m so grateful for both the calm and insight that this practice gives me. But add in a trip, or an illness or just poor management of my habits and I’m in trouble — dealing with stress in my body right now — anxiety, exhaustion, a feeling of being stretched way too thin. I’m realizing that it’s time to take stock again, remember that I alone am the CEO of my life. I can pause, step back, take a few deep breaths, and stop the race to the finish line.

As I rush to get packed for the upcoming week’s meditation retreat, I remember these things and just stop. I take the time to snuggle with my cat. I breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold, dissolve. Breathe, dissolve. I water the plants that I know are suffering in this drought. I fill the bird bath, take time to sink into the life of the plants where, in a sense, each night is an in breath, each day one long exhalation. A process that has been going on continuously for millions upon millions of years is just a step away in my yard.

The heart and mind that is able to plan, rush and meet goals is also able to dissolve, let go, transform, and heal itself. As I allow my consciousness to soften and my ego to die a little, I feel my awareness expand to include many points of view. I feel a deep sense of peace, of coming home.

Now, in the ferry lineup, surrounded by the results of swift packing, car, robes, cushions become irrelevant, merely present as the embodiment of past actions. As my gaze falls on a green oasis of blackberry bushes, grasses and humming insects, I breathe in calm energy, breathe out stress, breathe in the world’s suffering, breathe out healing love.

The ferry toots, boarding time, but oh no, the car won’t start, the battery is dead. We immediately switch mental gears from dissolution time into full-on frontal lobe problem-solving. Using our emergency kit, we jump the car in a graceful flurry of activity and adrenalin. We make it on board.

Both states, action and dissolution, have come a little closer to balance.

Soshin McMurchy is a junior priest with the Zenwest Buddhist Society, zenwest.ca, and serves as the Buddhist chaplain with the University of Victoria Multifaith Services. She works part time at the Greater Victoria Public Library and lives in Victoria with her partner of 38 years.