An American Zen Buddhist training center in the Mountains and Rivers Order, offering Sunday programs, weekend retreats and month-long residencies.
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Making Moonshine
My mother doesn’t talk about her childhood much, so the few stories she’s shared have made a big impression on me. The only thing she ever told me about her years at boarding school in Pennsylvania was that she and her friends used to stash jugs of apple juice up on the roof and wait until the sun gave it some kick. The juice fermented and produced an alcoholic cider. It was thrilling to picture my mom in a uniform getting tipsy on a steep Mary Poppins–type rooftop. It made the apple juice in my lunchbox seem much more exciting, packed with potential. More » -
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Easy Dough
High school did not prepare me for college, which was fine and good since no respectable college would have me. Instead, I packed a bag and aimed for Greece, although I somehow overshot and ended up working the fields on a kibbutz in Israel. I have nothing to say about the cafeteria food we stuffed ourselves with there, but we had some fantastic bananas. From there I headed south, joining my friend Janet on a trek through the Sinai led by a man who had served in the army near Dahab and never left. He was tight with the Bedouins, and they, with their camels, took us on a journey for nine days. This was the beginning of my year of figuring it out on my own. More » -
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Mountain Hermit Meal
I once had a boyfriend who wore a pair of wrinkled trousers he’d had in his possession since junior high school. They were a perfectly nice pair of trousers—for a hobo about two inches shorter than he was. I objected. Invoking the great Tibetan saint, he used the Milarepa Defense: Cling to worldliness and acquire sins. He recounted the story of how when Milarepa’s sister gave the naked sage a robe, he sewed little coverings onto it for “all of his main protrusions,” his fingers and toes and one for his penis. These little hoodies were enough for Milarepa, so a 20-year-old pair of highwaters was enough for my friend. More » -
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Mountain Hermit Meal
I once had a boyfriend who wore a pair of wrinkled trousers he’d had in his possession since junior high school. They were a perfectly nice pair of trousers—for a hobo about two inches shorter than he was. I objected. Invoking the great Tibetan saint, he used the Milarepa Defense: Cling to worldliness and acquire sins. He recounted the story of how when Milarepa’s sister gave the naked sage a robe, he sewed little coverings onto it for “all of his main protrusions,” his fingers and toes and one for his penis. These little hoodies were enough for Milarepa, so a 20-year-old pair of highwaters was enough for my friend. More » -
0 comments
Mountain Hermit Meal
I once had a boyfriend who wore a pair of wrinkled trousers he’d had in his possession since junior high school. They were a perfectly nice pair of trousers—for a hobo about two inches shorter than he was. I objected. Invoking the great Tibetan saint, he used the Milarepa Defense: Cling to worldliness and acquire sins. He recounted the story of how when Milarepa’s sister gave the naked sage a robe, he sewed little coverings onto it for “all of his main protrusions,” his fingers and toes and one for his penis. These little hoodies were enough for Milarepa, so a 20-year-old pair of highwaters was enough for my friend. More » -
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What's for Dinner?
First, seventy-two labors brought us this food; We should know how it comes to us. —Zen meal gatha (verse) More »
