Won Buddhism of Manhattan

It was a cold, bright day in early March I entered the door of the Manhattan Won-Buddhist Temple in order to attend lunchtime meditation. With that step, the welcoming environment of the Temple, Won Buddhism, Reverend Lee and Reverend Park became part of my journey.

My desire in heading to the Temple for the hour meditation that afternoon was to immerse myself in an environment in which I could practice attention to my breath. I knew the company of others in sitting practice would offer support in the form of silent encouragement. It had before. An engaged community is often just the support I need to get my part of any challenging job done. It certainly helped that the “job” of which I speak here is an action I hold in reverence…meditation. And meditation, though not a “job” in the typical sense, is work…or meditation is work until it is no longer work. And it is no longer work until it shifts back to being work, again, as the pain in my leg insists itself onto the slate of my consciousness or my thoughts metamorphose from small white butterflies able to flit away to the “800 pound gorilla in the room” firmly nudging me off my cushion. Nevertheless, on that March day, with the prospect of it being easy or difficult, I wanted to see if I could make a successful return to an on-going formal meditation practice.

My first brush with attempting to meditate was in the late 1980’s, just prior to undergoing major surgery. I was lying on a hospital gurney awaiting my being rolled into an operating room when I said to myself, “Joanna, contrary to any natural inclination you might have, this might be a good moment to relax.” Well, just talking to myself about what might be good for me does not get the “good for me” done. As you may have sensed, I am a great believer in action, but action is not always easily come by. As my mind whirred along, I remembered the ‘60’s folk singer Joan Baez who told us, “Action is the antidote to despair.” Thoughts continuing to whir brought the possibility there just might be a chance action could be an antidote to anxiety, as well. Action is a quite limited prospect when lying on a gurney in a hospital. The only actions I seemed to be engaged in at that moment were breathing and, quite clearly, over-thinking. Well, going with the flow, I asked myself what my options were. It was then I remembered reading in several treatises on meditation that following and focusing on one’s breath seemed to afford entry into a more relaxed state, an alternative brain wave state, and perhaps removed a charged reaction to one’s immediate situation. What a great idea! Why not go for it!  So, I spent the next ten minutes following my breath, even during the reverse count as the anesthesia was being administered. Was it meditation? To this day, I don’t know. What I do know is the following morning when the anesthesiologist came to visit, he said he had never seen someone so relaxed going into surgery and he was curious about it. That experience, together with my recovery being remarkably quick and successful, set me on a path to learn more about meditating and incorporating it into my life.

I wish I could say I’ve never stopped meditating since, but I can’t. The bulk of my time during the last 19 years has contained no sitting practice. Better put, if I tallied up all the times I have brought my attention back to my breath and was open to the concept of “non-intrinsic existence”, the condensed count in hours would probably number less than the hours contained in three weeks. I’ve spent time at Insight Meditation, the New York Buddhist Church and other organizations, some of which offered dharma services and community in addition to formal meditation time. Also, there were many hours, on my own, on the streets of New York or in lovely natural settings when my breath and mindfulness and walking became one.

Though these 504 hours may have been spread thin over the years, the fact that I gifted myself with them has had a distinct, profound and palpable effect on me. My ability to change my internal pace, to capture stillness, to offer kindness, to stop for a moment of joy playing out as a vignette on the street are just some of the rewards I attribute to practice. My relating becomes more undisguised and inclusive. I am reminded we are all one. My actions seem to derive from that knowledge and are imbued with greater generosity, kindness, compassion, gratefulness and the knowledge that I am my own safe harbor.

Knowing these rewards are more easily accessed if I am actively engaged in an on-going meditation practice, I brought myself to the Manhattan Won Buddhist Temple that day in March. Smiling, I placed my hand on the door knob, turned and the door opened. My sense of discovery and peacefulness were immediate. A warm welcome emanated from Reverend Park and Reverend Lee. Their wise counsel followed.

Now, each time I return to the community of the Temple and the circle of Ir-Won to meditate, to chant, to participate, to listen and to speak, gratefully, I find the Buddha within. And, usually, in the course of the days that follow those times, mindfulness and good communication seem to be more readily a part of my daily life. A peaceful, kind, compassionate and generous part of me is tapped into and invites me to explore it further. What a wonderful invitation! Just the kind of re-birth one needs in spring!

May, 2008