"The beast-like, inhuman quality of the machine is also associated with the symbol of the dragon. Every civilization East and West has dragons roaming about its mythology. The jewel that the dragon holds is our humanity, that part of ourself which the culture enslaves in order to perpetuate itself. When a culture is life-enhancing, the dragon is friendly and we do not fight it, as is the case with the dragons of the East. The task of the West, however, seems to involve a battle with the dragon, a quest to wrest the jewel from its clutches, or to slay it.

Our job is to recover our humanity from the grip of its executioner. If we simply sleep, letting the corporate-media machine determine our desires and needs, then our hard-won consciousness will be snuffed out in the belly of the whale. Our most perceptive thinkers and poets have warned us repeatedly now and in past ages that if the machine is allowed to lurch forward, unguided by human integrity, that the human race will not only go down, but go down in a miserable, bloody, cruel self-destruction, taking down with it the beauty around us and rending the fragile complex web of organisms that is the body of our exquisite earth.

The system is indeed a beast, and the beast is large and extensive. Its breathing is the very atmosphere we live in. To stop this beast from destroying humanity and the earth requires the ability to recognize its life, its breathing, in its small everyday dimensions. But this requires much courage.

The dragon sleeps--until you make a move to regain the treasure of your humanity through exposing it. How? By standing in your truth, by speaking or acting with honesty, integrity, by questioning or whistle-blowing. The boxes, balloons, self-referential enclosures that constitute daily life in America do not want to be disturbed. The dragon lives off millions of people's vital energy (their desires, needs, and fears). Not only does it want to continue its vast sleep, but if it is roused, it gets angry because you are leaving, and that deprives it of some of the vital energy that it requires in order to perpetuate it. Everything--media, interpersonal conversations, advertising, schooling, medicine, law, businesses, universities--conspires to keep us from looking at the beast. Why? To preserve the status quo intact, unmoving--and inhuman."

- Kathleen Granville Damiani, Sophia: Exile and Return

It didn’t take long for me to find my groove in this place. I seem to be built for places like this. My father raised me with a deep connection to the landscape, something I’ve taken for granted most my life, but in recent years have come to be grateful for. I was raised with the notion that the best therapy for the soul is to get outside, chop wood, swing a hammer, and build something greater than your self. On the second day I was already immersed in what my father terms ‘puttering’ something that passes the time, isn’t overly strenuous and is a working mediation of sorts.

And this is how I came to pass my time up at Prajna. The days working idly away creating door handles from twisted roots, or shelving for Roshi’s room, and the evenings eating fabulous organic meals and then drinking tea while having talks by the firelight. No TV, no radio, no static from the outside world… only forest mountain silence, howling coyotes, and the ebb flow of the wind crawling down the mountainside.

Some days we all puttered and were left to our own devices, while other days we came together to roam the land that makes up the refuge discussing ideas of where campsites, bathhouses, gardens and water cisterns may be located in the future. Either this or short excursions to trees covered in bear claw markings... All of us vibrating with good energy and thinking up beautiful ideas while Roshi often lead the way.

On the way up to this refuge of a place I blew out my knee pretty badly and it took the first few days to recover. Then in a fit of madness I decided on the second to last day to hike down with Marty to pick up some clay plaster from Hal's and greet incoming arrivals Lisle who was on the return having left a couple days before, Dyanna a filmmaker, and Carol Ann assistant filmmaker.
I then had the pleasure of reliving the pain from the days before.. my knee was in rough shape upon my return and the trek out the following day began to look like fantasy. And so it was the following morning that everyone except Maria and I left for Santa Fe. I was left to putter to my hearts content, take care of Marty's cats, and enjoy the vast solitude of this magnificent place. Not a bad deal, it would almost seem part of a grander plan working in my favor. Roshi in seeing my pain and suffering (which is likely nothing compared to her own process) says "Remember, pain is made up of non-pain elements." I've been thinking a lot about that since, and it seems to me that it refers to many types of pain as well, be it emotional, physical, mental or spiritual. All of these when you think about them are made up of non-pain elements, and much of our pain is based on, or the result of our perception. But what I am also grateful for is the way in which our bodies slow us down at times, force us to reflect, or in my case hold us captive in places we long to stay for whatever the reason.

One of the other things Roshi said that has stuck with me regarding my journey the road ahead and relationships, "Not knowing... is most intimate." I've been thinking of that one too lots since my visit.

Once left alone I busied myself polishing stones for Marty, planting starter seeds for the summer garden and building a compost that will process both organic food waste and humanure. Nothing is to be wasted in this place, since in its remoteness everything becomes of potential value and is not to be taken for granted. The vision that has been developing is a vision of a place that is both informed by nature as well as a part of it. A place that grows as the landscape feeds the people on a multitude of levels and ways.

In the last few days when not puttering I took the weight off my knee and read about gardening in a great book called the Self-Sufficient Gardener, and cracked open The Walk by William DeBuys one of my recent interviews. I'm enjoying both books immensely and can't wait to get back to my relationship with them.

In preparing to leave and head back to Santa Fe with Maria on Tuesday morning I found myself feeling grungy having not bathed in a week, but also filled with an unshakable contentedness and deeply grounded. There would usually be sadness at leaving a place like this, but I have already vowed to return next week after some interviews, once the knee has healed, to help build a solar shower.

I'll be back before the coyote or elk even notice that Moses and I were gone ;-)

peace,d

Prajna is really an extraordinary place. It’s situated at 9,000ft in a valley that is the result of thousands of years of mountain erosion. Modest fields stretch out before the cabins providing a sense of expansiveness despite the deep isolation. In the summer these fields explode with waves of wildflowers and grasses, but right now everything is blanketed by snow that seems to be receding quite quickly. The surrounding forest pf poplar, spruce and pine stands poised on the periphery of this small cluster of inhabitation, almost as though planning an imminent invasion into the fields. This is truly off-grid remote mountain living with only Marty and Maria up here most of the year in their separate personal hermitages. The birds are chirping everywhere, the dogs are in bliss, and the only other signs of civilization are the contrails left by airliners high overhead.

After the nice meal and introductions I was shown to the other buildings. First the Main Lodge where I was to sleep and then to the Pyramid where Maria resides. All of these buildings came with the place when Roshi bought it. It seems this place has had a few incarnations but the one immediately before Prajna was as a small farm where sheep, lamas and horses grazed. The domesticated animals are all gone now aside from the dogs and cats. The land, grateful for the years of manure, is now prepped to rejoice and spring forth completely unhindered by plodding hooves and chomping jaws. It’s almost as if the human impacts themselves have played beautifully into the natural cycles of this place and it’s development.

Once settled in, we all returned back to the initial cabin that seems to act as Prajna’s center. We drank tea, ate wonderful organic vegetarian food, and talked late (10pm) into the night. These five women that I had found myself with were truly strong, beautiful and wonderful people. I fell asleep that night tired from the hike, full from the meals, and filled with a sense of warmth and love having been invited into this new and openhearted community.

There’s a lot to be said of living from the heart in openness, compassion and gratitude. Oftentimes we shy away from the doorways that are presented to us out of fear or due to longstanding personal agreements that have little basis in reality. My friend Steve always says that Fear stands for False Evidence Appearing Real… I’m grateful I’m open… and I’m grateful that the doors I walk through usually result in meeting beautiful people and arriving in extraordinary places.

peace,
d

Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Location: Santa Fe

Got back late yesterday afternoon from Prajna; Joan Halifax Roshi's refuge space up at 9,400ft. Had a wonderful time and found another place that definitely feels like home. There's something about off grid solar living, the absence of plumbing, wood stove heating, and needing to collect rainwater for drinking that just speaks to me. I think it's the fact that it speaks to simplicity and the fundamentals of living. I love being in a space where there are real consequences for inaction and complacency. I love places where we are forced to connect to our inner selves through communion with a wild and natural world.

It also helps when the space is at 9,400ft and the only way in is by strapping on snowshoes and trudging five miles straight up. This makes for a sparse population of only the most committed individuals at the top. It's makes getting there a big part of being there, and this is something I obviously deeply relate to.

A week ago I arrived at the Upaya Zen Center at 8 a.m. and walked straight into a flurry of packing and preparing. Roshi and her right hand woman Peg gave me some last minute packing details and off we went in Roshi truck, Veronica the van left in the dust of the Upaya parking lot.

Roshi's mountain compadre and contemporary sherpa Hal was waiting for us when we arrived at the base of the five mile trek. Hal greeted all of us with an open smile but was quick to point out my lack of snowshoes. Feeling in top form I was quick to point out that I'd be fine and was ready for anything.. I turned down Hals offer of his snowshoes and only upon the insistence of my fellow trekkers Peg and Lisle did I finally give up my fifty-pound bag of camera gear and clothing.

Sometimes when you most need it, humility can be in short supply.

Roshi sped off up the mountain side hanging onto Hal, this snowmobile shuttle is a recent aid to assist her past the first three miles of the trek. It seems Roshi shattered her femur last June and has since had to cope with some serious pain. This encountering a woman who has spent much time high on mountains whether here or on Eastern continents. Her spirit is far from shattered and really the only thing that seems to keep her from encountering the climb on foot is the love and insistence of those who care about her.

Lisle took off like a dart on her skis, while Peg and I trekked up on foot, her with snowshoes me without but doing fine. This was the case for at least the first mile.. then, as the snow deepened, the post-holing began. I was suffering and wrath of my ego deep footstep after deep footstep, boots filling with snow, jeans soaking through, and legs taking a tremendous beating. The sun was out and shining the snow was softening beneath our feet and it looks as though it was going to be a long long, very long day. After about a half-mile of contemplation on ego and humility I rounded a rock-faced bend, to see ahead on the snow path, Hal's snowshoes jutting out of the snowbank. In that moment the angels sang and the hot sun was transformed from sweaty burden into warm and blissful rays of light.

We reached our bags at the three mile point where Roshi and Hal had continued on foot for the remaining two miles of bushwhacking. After some lunch and a rest we continued our trudge uphill, packs now heavy upon our shoulders. After another grueling hour and a half, snowshoes slipping off trail into the deep snow, we arrived at Prajna...

We were greeted by the smiles of Roshi, Hal and Prajna residents Marty and Maria and dogs Dominga and Shannon. The picnic table where they were seated was filled end to end with Marty's fresh baked goods, breads, cheeses, and chocolates.. causing the trudge up the mountainside to quickly begin its transition out of the present and into the realm of memory.

peace,d