The wristwatch belonged to his master. Self-winding with motion, it tends to lose time in his current job; yet, to him it is priceless. His master donated his watch as an auction item, he told me. Saddened that the item was receiving no bids, the monk placed his own and won the watch for himself.
As with any watch, over time the wristband wore and needed to be replaced. During these two days of his visit to Baltimore Zen Center from Seoul International Zen Center at HwaGyeSa Temple, when not performing the requisite ceremonies, hosting visitors anxious to see him, or taking calls from friends who could not visit, the monk returned to one of his two or three apparent missions for this trip: to replace this watchband. He explained to me the night before that, serving as the head monk at the temple, he has almost no free time; it would be nearly impossible to take the time to tend to this task there.
Earlier Monday, the monk and his entourage made an outing to the shops to find a suitable watchband. In time, they left, and I arrived. He and I sat upon the cushions at the low table through the evening. I checked email, sent updates, sorted pictures, handled some correspondence for him, and so forth, while the monk worked mostly quietly at his task for well over an hour. Every once in a while he would engage me in simple small talk, a polite matter I'm sure. Once or twice he broke into song. Once he leapt up to prepare a snack. Once he stopped to play with the cat. Each time though, he returned to the watch...
And once it was done, he went off to his room to nap. I interrupted him briefly there before he fell completely asleep to say my good byes for this visit. What more need have been said between us?
Now, some questions
- The monk's devotion to his master and how much he cherishes this watch: are these attachments?
- Was the monk's activity a good lesson in Zen?
- In my place, would you have interrupted his work or his nap to ask questions?
3 comments:
huh.
Nice questions, Joe. I'm sorry I wasn't able to drop in on Sunday.
Yes, the devotions are attachments. But we may mean different things by this. We'll have to talk next time I see you.
Yes, the monk's activity was a good lesson in Zen. Is he not human, living in the world, with a need to attend to those matters that are necessary? If you said he spent the whole visit in meditation, chanting syllables, and perhpas lifting X-wing fighters out of a swamp... I'd say something was amiss. We live in the world, not a movie.
If I were in your place... I don't know. Did you have questions that needed to be answered that badly?
Something to ponder.
Many who begin Zen practice attach to a notion of non-attachment as a goal of the practice. It is a curiosity... something to be investigated in the practice, the attached or not attached, right and wrong, etc. We can certainly chat about those anytime, but in the meantime, it's still true that I like corn, but I don't like peas.
As to whether the monk's activity was a lesson at all, who knows? I suppose I could interpret it that way, no?
In both questions, though, we find ourselves wondering if there is meaning in what we observe---but what is the meaning of this wondering?
Was Sunim lost in thought? There's not necessarily an external indicator. The way to find out would have been to have challenged him---a time-honored tradition in this lineage, after all ;-) But should you challenge him or should you not challenge him? What is the right way to proceed?
As for me, I had plenty of discussion with the monk Sunday night; this time Monday was just time to hang out and to see if he needed any help with anything before leaving Tuesday morning. If either of us had something to do or to discuss, I suspect we did it without hesitation. And when it was time for him to rest, he rested, and when I got the message that dinner was almost ready, I left.
Nothing but fun! :-)
Now, some answers:
Are these attachments? Only if he lets them be
Evertything is a good lesson in zen if you listen and watch and understand.
If I were in your place, I would not be in my place.
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