How the Zendo Saved Our Lives

I have been finding that zen sitting quietly with what is (we never called it meditation because that word has so many other connotations) has gotten me through the last rough times I've been having with sensory and emotional issues. 

I decided to research this further, and would also like to hear from other Autistic meditators, whatever kind you do, and maybe write another book. I have also been researching how the brain reacts to mindfulness (although this is another word with too many definitions) meditation.

You can leave comments and I will try to respond and dialogue with you if you like.  I have an upcoming online interview I am working on and it will be my next blog post.

I decided to add the chapter I wrote in my own autobiography of how Zen sitting changed my and my son's lives and helped us to cope and become more centered.

How the Zendo Saved Our Lives

I’d joined the Nichiren Shoshu Buddhists right after high school, and had stayed closer to the Buddhist spiritual path and world view than any other. When I discovered (they tried to hide themselves) the Ring of Bone Zendo I was welcomed in regardless of race creed or sex. They didn’t even care if you practiced some other religion in your off time. And no one “normal” is desperate enough to tie their legs in knots and sit around in silence for long periods of time.

For Aspies it can be like coming home. First off, it is a group of people that get together on a regular basis and spend most, if not all, of that time NOT TALKING to each other. And during the long retreats we were even forbidden from making social gestures to each other. Oh bliss and thanksgiving. Rules that said “DON”T look any person in the eye. No talking. And the best part, don’t even talk to yourself. Just breathe, count, and try to answer (without words perhaps) senseless riddles. There is no visualization or mantras, in fact you keep your eyes open but lowered and unfocused. The idea is to be present and ok with what is, without having to change anything.

The teaching and monitoring of our “progress” was done in a separate hut, and was just between each practitioner and our roshi, or teacher. So no one knew what we talked or didn’t talk about or how far we were on our path. In fact, it is quite traditional and common just to sit and stare at

Roshi until one of the two bows, or yells, or leaves. Or just wiggles eyebrows. Roshi’s have a great sense of humor, if a bit unusual (quite Aspie-like).

Since everything was done in silence, the weekly sitting and longer retreats were carefully organized and scheduled so everything could go on with a minimum of talking. Each person was assigned a job at the beginning of the sesshin and the recipes and menus for the cooks were written out and planned in advance. Choppers chopped their assigned vegetables early in the morning and got the rest of the day off. Jobs were rotated for the regulars so we couldn’t complain (well, I did whine a bit). If you showed enough progress you could become a leader (they had meetings and talked the most). I was a leader at the Monday night sittings sometimes. I specialized as Ino, or chant leader. I loved the chants, and bringing us out of silence.

I also cherished the time away from my life and children. Learning to observe my thoughts and letting them go without judgment like bubbles or clouds in the sky was immensely valuable to me. Without even trying, my life became more fulfilling and meltdowns less frequent. When both my children were living at home they often criticized my abandoning them for spiritual enlightenment and coming home “spacey”. I wouldn’t be ready to deal with whatever disaster had happened or was happening.

After Astrid moved out, Eric became interested in finding inner peace and living life differently. One day he read Thich Naht Hahn’s book Being Peace that I owned, and had left laying around the house. Eric started asking me if he could go to the Zendo on Monday night with me. At first I thought he wanted to go because he was just learning how to drive and the three mile dirt road to the Zendo was one I would let him drive on. But when I told him I wouldn’t drive home (I was already next door to the Zendo) and get him, he started crying over the telephone and revealed that he’d read Being Peace and had started crying then, just thinking there were other people in the world that thought that way, of interdependence and lovingkindness, and non-violence.

I’ve mentioned the success of Eric’s Jr. High therapy which definitely shifted his world and made him a much easier person to be with. But the everyday stress of adolescence and high school took their toll. Already different, he entered high school as a “ridge kid”. The entire group of kids from his elementary school were ostracized from the beginning and forced to eat at their own separate table in the cafeteria. There weren’t enough kids of other racial backgrounds to discriminate against, so they had to go geographical. And economic level, we were poorer out there. He had episodes of suicidal thoughts perhaps more frequent than I knew.

He was still bullied (the boys were getting bigger and more violent now) but he still didn’t want to fight back. The Zendo gave him a model for a peaceful man. Eric became a regular with me at the Monday night sittings. For awhile we took an earlier Monday evening Yoga class that helped calm our minds, stretch our bodies, and have just enough time to get to the Zendo. The women in the yoga class loved his dedication and lanky body trying to stretch into the poses. He made friends here that would help him through the years. One of the women he met would hire him to help correct the homework in her remedial math classes in high school, and gave him rides home when he needed to stay after the bus left. With a 30 mile round trip down and up a canyon road to and from high school, this was quite a bonus. And an ally in the school.

Eric started sitting the weekend sesshins when he was 15. He was the youngest member to sit sesshin. He also started sleeping outside in a tent, and setting an alarm so he could wake early and sit before school started. One day I talked to Gary Snyder, famous poet and founder and neighbor of the Zendo, about Eric. He said if I lived in Japan I’d just send him down the road to the nearest Monastery. And I would have done it one or two years ago. Perfectly normal. That was a help.

In Eric’s junior year we were both having relationship problems and decided to apply as a team to run the Honolulu Zendo. This was fun to think about. I would have pulled Eric out of school and he could have used the break. The qualities we offered as a team would have made us good contenders for the job. At least that’s what we were told. But fear of change and fear of giving up the dysfunctional relationships kept us from formally applying. It was fun thinking about it.

Later when it became time for Eric to find his own home, and he didn’t know what to do or where to go, I sent him off to a five day sesshin, and when he got out he knew just what to do, and moved in with John Strapek, an ex-boyfriend (did I mention how he got along with my boyfriends only after we broke up). This was a wonderful decision for him, and let him live with adult male supervision, a lesbian couple next door to feed him, and John became a father figure in his life. John died just after Eric received his AS diagnosis.