Not a Book Review

 

"Creaking to the post office 

on my rusty bike 

I saw one purple iris 

wild in the wet green 

of the rice field. 

I wanted to send it to you. 

I can only tell you 

it was there.  

 

Maura O'Hlloran 

  

This poem is from the epilogue of one of the most captivating books I have read in quite some time: Pure Heart, Enlightened Mind, The Zen Journal and Letters of Maura "Soshin" O'Halloran.  While traveling in 1979, this young Irish-American woman found her way (or the way found her) to a Buddhist monastery in Tokyo. In the three years she was there, she received the transmission of her roshi. Six months later, on a circuitous route to return to the West, she died in a bus accident in Thailand. I believe she was still in her late 20's.    

  

I have not yet finished reading this book. So many thoughts keep coming up, and I am not quite ready to try to form something cohesive. Yet, this morning, I decided to read the epilogue, and this poem is indeed the last word of Patricia Dai-En Bennage's afterward.  She also wrote, "Maura's practice was formed from both these halves - of zazen and Bodhisattva Way, meditation and sacrifice. Her journals are a poignant record of this practice and will make Maura's unique understanding available for the benefit of others. The Buddhadarma as lived by an Irish American female monk is now a part of modern Zen history." As I reread these lines, I am filled again with gratitude for Maura's writings. They are honest, moving and inspiring, even if one is not Buddhist. In her journal she wrote, "I want to be a Zen master." And she became one, even in a male Japanese speaking monastery with no other women. She was, and is much loved. 

  

This eloquent afterward, which I read in the pre-dawn hours, brought tears to my eyes. I was reminded of the importance of paying attention to our journeys, trusting who we are, and for me, the importance of writing. I do not believe it is a coincidence that after reading Bennage's words, I set the book down and walked outside. In the clear dark sky I could view the waning crescent moon. When the sky is clear, one can see not only the sparkling crescent, but also the faint outline of the new moon, or I often call it, "the moon that is coming." 

  

This book has changed my way of thinking about my own struggles with fear and discipline. I now realize that these struggles are universal, even for Zen masters. Standing in the clear darkness this morning, I knew that at the end of my own story, fear would not have the last word. Until that last word is known, I shall keep writing. I hear Jesus' words from last week's  lectionary text: "That is why I have come (Mark 1:38)." 

    

I am grateful for Maura Soshin's words, and for those who decided to share those words with the wider world. Thank you.  

        

image:  No, not from a rice field, but from my neighbor's fence where flowers have been planted every year since sometime in the 50's when Sally and Dean moved into their house down the street. They both have passed on, but a daughter keeps the tradition of greeting those walking by with flowers along the fence.   

  

I am grateful for it all.       

      

image:  No, not from a rice field, but from my neighbor's fence where flowers have been planted every year since sometime in the 50's when Sally and Dean moved into their house down the street. They both have passed on, but a daughter keeps the tradition of greeting those walking by with flowers along the fence.   

  

I am grateful for it all.