Are You and I different? A Call for Help.

Who am I?

I am no one... but even less than that. Whatever your race, color, creed, sex, social status, background, religion, or any other circumstances, I am not different than you... nor am I the same.

In an instant, though, I am the father of my son and daughter. I am the husband of my wife, my younger brothers' older brother, and my mother's son. I am my teacher's student and I am my students' teacher. I am the fellow driving too slowly in front of you when you have somewhere to go, and I am the fellow behind you, giving you distance because I see you are lost. You are things like this as well, and in this sense we are different; but, what of that part of me that writes this piece and the part of you that is reading it? Are these different?

You see the beautiful flowers bloom, think to last year's happy camping trip with friends and family, and celebrate the arrival of spring. Next to you, I see the same flowers and am reminded of the floral wreath at a loved one's funeral, and I am saddened. How can this be? Are the flowers that you and I see not precisely the same? Or are they? Where exactly do we see the flowers? Are you and I seeing the true flowers, as they truly are, or are we seeing something different? And what is doing this seeing anyway?

What comes attached with every perception when we are not aware? What do we actually see when we shed those attachments, filters, preconceptions, and so forth? And why would we want to?

Know this: Even in the most dire circumstances, there is solace to be found in learning to see clearly and knowing precisely who you are...

Who am I?

I am a man who recently turned 40. I am a man who learned that his son has Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, a disease that, statistically speaking, will cripple and kill him before he reaches my age. I am a man who, not four months after this diagnosis, was laid off from his job. Knowing that our lives would necessarily change to accommodate the future, I am a person struggling to find a way to earn a living that allows me increased time with my kids. Searching with aged skills and pricey experience, I am a person who had no luck as the economy crashed around me. Once filled with pride, now almost penniless, I am a person who nearly fell to pieces admitting to myself that, without insurance, I could not take my son for a visit to the muscular dystrophy clinic had it not been for the Muscular Dystrophy Association's charity to help those in need. I am a man failing his wife and children, sometimes unable to meet the bills, wondering if life will crash around us and sometimes even if I will still have them on the other side of this disaster.

But I am not just that.

In the same period, I found the Baltimore Zen Center through a website and I paid an unannounced visit on a night scheduled for beginners, I found the address, a little, nondescript 1950's-style bungalow home down the block from a fancy church. With serious trepidation, I wandered outside the place looking for signs of life before going through the gate to the back entrance. Rather than getting back into my car and leaving, I walked up to the door and knocked...

My life has not been the same since.

A smallish Korean man with a shaved head answered the door. I asked him if this was the right place for the Zen beginner's class. He invited me in, asked me to take off my shoes, and led me to a cushion at a low table in one of the house's four defined rooms. He prepared tea for me and said, “I am Sunim.” It was another meeting or two later, I am sure, before I knew that the term “Sunim” was simply an unassuming Korean title for “monk.”

A few other students showed as well. We made introductions and continued. Sunim invited people to discuss their days, leading to friendly banter, but as the next round of tea was prepared, the conversation was led to the teaching. Look how, in our daily lives, we lost track of seeing things as they are. Look how we became paralyzed by situations and experienced different frustrations chasing after this and avoiding that. We heard a story or two---koans---describing interactions between masters and students, or even between masters and masters, which were relevant to the lesson of the day, and we engaged in intensely frustrating question and answer sessions---”koan exchanges”---to test our own understanding and to explore the way.

I was lost---and I was skeptical---but I did have the undefinable sense that I was in the right place, that this was important work for me, and that this was the precise time to accomplish this work. I knew clearly that if I could not straighten our my own self, I would not be able to survive the ordeals that would come to our family by virtue of my son's disease---or anything else. I needed to be able to help my wife through the devastation. I would need to help guide my son through his ordeals as his life deviates further and further from those of “ordinary” children. I would need to see clearly my daughter's position, to ensure that she will not lose herself as the family dynamic would inevitably change. It simply had to be done, and it had to be done now.

While simultaneously staving off our financial destruction and working to keep the family strong as news of my son's “verdict” spread, I gave the rest of my time to Zen practice with this monk. At the peek intensity, I would sit with him in meditation from 4-8 in the morning and then sometimes again in the evening, attending every class I could in between, often with occasional emails exchanged in between. If I was there in the evening, he would feed me. If I was there by day, he would prepare me tea. In exchange, he asked for nothing. When I had a few dollars to spare, I would put them in the donation box; ultimately, though, I know it was my sincere practice that is what is important---as well as my natural want to share and strengthen the practice with others who have the inclination.

Who are you?

How do you see my son? Do you see a short life of devastating physical decline? Do you see a family's suffering and lost expectations for a normal life?

How did you see the flower?

What have you attached to this seeing?

You are not the same as me, my son, my daughter, or my wife; but are you really different either?

I have seen in the news more than once recently that families have been found dead in apparent “murder-suicides.” With difficult times, families crumble, losing everything. Falling into despair, they see no alternative. We read about it only when it is too late. How is it that they saw this as the only path out of their suffering? Is there not another?

Fundamentally, this is the purpose of Zen, and this is the mission of the Baltimore Zen Center. We work to end suffering and to find our freedom in every moment, and the time for this work is now.

It is very rare that we make a plea for support, but this is such a time. The Baltimore Zen Center has sat quietly, helping people like you and me to find our way. For a few of us, the practice of helping others is quickly becoming an extension of our own personal Zen practice. Toward that end, we need your help to extend our reach and to support our work. The Center itself has been, in a sense, in deep meditation, very still, contemplating its own place and path. Though still in regular contact, our monk has been away for awhile, serving his master at HwaGyeSa Temple in Seoul, Korea, and the reigns of the operation are in the hands of the sangha---the community. But, as the current handful of students awaken and learn to steer, though, so does the Center awaken again.

Each of us comes to the practice with our own circumstances, talents and abilities. We also come with our own needs. As we begin to see clearly, as the the truth about what keeps us as separate emerges, we see ourselves not only as the individuals that we are, but more importantly as parts or expressions of a larger whole. From moment to moment, we become the hands and feet, the eyes and ears, and the one mind of this body, and we rely on the generosity of those we serve to provide the air and the food that supports this body in its work.

In the coming posts, we hope to include pieces of our larger vision, and we hope that in many cases our vision will merge with your own and that our vision will evolve as more members are involved and bring their abilities. We hope to take the necessary steps, such as including donation buttons on this page, to enable your generosity. In the meantime, though, I take no personal pride in noting that in addition to my own personal situation, we have two full-time resident practitioners with unusual circumstances exacerbated by the economy who are also doing what they can for the center and who do need our support in this mission.

Just ask...

Would you like to learn more about Zen, our work, or about us? Do you or someone you know need help? Are you in a position to help and would like to know how to donate to our non-profit organization?

Please, contact us at anytime at contact@BaltimoreZen.org to learn more about us, to learn how to donate, or to begin your own journey. Let us help you find who you are and what precisely is the difference between you and me.

Yours in Dharma,


Joe McParland