A Good Month at the Hermitage (2017)
Have had the good fortune to stay at the Hermitage several times over the last ten years. Each and every stay has been a different and valuable learning experience.
The winter of 2017, which was my most recent stay, I arrived in Kyoto after being on a walking pilgrimage in Japan for several days. Did not make much preparations for rain or cold weather, not even for spending some of the nights outside, so these rustic conditions left me physically worn by the time I contacted Jeff about the possibility of a stay and practice at the Hermitage. Still grateful that he kindly agreed to “squeeze me in.” As it turned out, the end of the year is a period when there tend to be plenty of people coming to stay. I was told later on: “It can even get full to overflowing!”
During this stay, which was over a month long, I had the opportunity to practice with quite a few zen enthusiasts from Australia, Canada, Germany, Japan, Cuba, Ireland, Mexico, The Netherlands, Serbia, Taiwan, and the United States. Some stayed at the Hermitage, while others stayed at nearby accommodations and came for the sitting periods.
Although many others have already mentioned it, I cannot but repeat that practice at the Hermitage would be impossible without the continuing support from Jeff and his wife Fusako. It is also crucial to feel the support from our fellow practitioners, perhaps even from the people who have been there before, and from those who will arrive after we have left Japan. (Since I am a Buddhist zen monk, I am also thankful for our fellow practitioners for their consideration and care in that regard).
Both the country where I was born and raised (Hungary) and where I have been living for more than 10 years as a Zen monk (South Korea) are considered to be homogenous societies. In fact, Korea can be thought of as a country with one of the most homogenous societies, where people usually respond (be it verbal or behavioral) to a certain situation in the same way. In this respect, the stay in Kyoto this time was especially valuable due to the diversity of the people at the Hermitage.
One of the many advantages of staying and sitting together with many people with different backgrounds in a small place is that we have to learn how to put our personal views aside. If our practice does not work in such a situation, something is lacking – probably the reason why we came to practice in the first place. My impression was that everyone who came and stayed there was aware of, willing to accept, and willing to work with this challenge.
Recently I heard about a famous zen garden where there are a number of rocks carefully placed in a way so that the spectator cannot see all of them at once. It is said that the garden is designed like this to remind us that there isn’t a single point of view that is completely correct. It is this kind of open mind, along with strong determination and trust, which contributes to the ongoing practice at the Hermitage in the heart of Kyoto.
Two weeks at the Hermitage, Summer 2016
Even if one is living in a Buddhist temple in a country with a deep Buddhist tradition, it is a valuable opportunity and a challenge to practice at the Hermitage in Kyoto. Actually, that “even” should be replaced with an “especially”! I say this as a Hungarian who has now lived several years as a Son (Zen) monk in South Korea.
This is because staying at the hermitage can be much like a solo retreat – the most advanced and valued way of practice in many meditation traditions. An opportunity to practice at a place like that, for example in a country like South Korea, is not easy at all. Besides, these places may not have experienced teachers available for guidance when needed.
The doors of such meditation places are often locked from the outside, so one can only leave when the retreat period is over. Food intake is restricted with usually only one meal a day. There are also three smaller rules that are quite widely known and applied: Not lying down (apart from sleeping at night), no speaking, and no leaning (i.e. not leaning against anything whenever sitting or standing).
I have learned about these rules while staying in South Korea, and thought to apply some of them during my stay in the Hermitage, because I was not sure how I could maintain discipline and focus when I will be by myself.
This was not the first time I practiced at the Hermitage, and I had good memories of the closest public phone, the nearby place to check email, and colorful images and unique scents from the convenient stores down the street. This time I thought that in order to cut all that out, I will try to bring enough food for two weeks, eating one meal a day. I had the same kind of food and the same portions for every day, so my expectations were met each mealtime. Also, I decided to not go out of the hermitage unless Jeff suggested it, or in order to maintain the harmony with other people who may be staying there.
I did not decide to do this because I wanted to make the practice more difficult. On the contrary, I thought it would be easier if I will only have to focus on the practice. It worked quite well not going out of the Hermitage for the first seven days at all.
This was also an occasion when I could make good use of very basic Japanese language skills, so I was glad to have learned a few useful words, as suggested by Jeff prior to the trip.
Staying at the Hermitage is not simply a solo retreat, however. Jeff is there to guide and to support in one-on-one, not only once but twice a day. This is precious indeed. There may also be other practitioners staying part of the time in the Hermitage. Hearing about the experiences of such people has also been a great support and inspiration for me. I am glad such exchanges were possible. With Vera, Jan, and Leon, the ones who came to sit the most frequently during those two weeks, we quickly became Dharma buddies. Sitting together with them was also a great help for me.
Practice places exist because of the effort of many people. I wish many more people continue to come to the Hermitage, and make their stay an opportunity to add their own efforts to the ongoing practice there. I am grateful for Jeff and Fusako whose dedication makes the Hermitage an easily accessible, friendly yet serious practice environment.
Chang Gyong (Krisztian Arpad Kovacs) South Korea/Hungary (age 40)
Hermitage Report
When I turned 50, the feeling of the finiteness of life became quite strong. My disquieting questions about life and death, about what really counts, grew larger and I felt a demanding urgency regarding these questions. In addition, Jeff´s admonition from my last retreat was still echoing in my ears: “Don´t waste your time!” A few weeks after my 50th birthday, I decided to travel to Japan to practice at the Hermitage.
I spent two precious weeks there. Hearing the word “Hermitage”, one associates things like forests, mountains or deserts, nature, deer and birds, stillness and solitude. The Hermitage in Kyoto is different from such associations in that it is in the midst of a city surrounded by traffic and electric cables. While sitting zazen in the Zendo, you can feel the dark shakings of the walls and the floor, caused by heavy trucks driving on the busy road around the corner: sometimes it felt like little earthquakes. Sitting zazen here means sitting in the midst of the moving and ordinary world.
We were a little fine community of three men practicing at the Hermitage. Sitting together in the little Zendo was an experience of settling in growing closeness and intimacy. You can strongly feel the commonly created field of practice that supports your zazen. I could almost smell H.´s breath, who was sitting beside me; I got a feeling for the depth of his samadhi and for the struggle with the pain. The developing intimacy was moving. The practice was carried by this field.
A part of the field in which the practice at the Hermitage takes place consists of two important Zen temples to the north and to the south of the Hermitage: Kennin-ji, quite close, and Tofuku-ji, a 25 minutes’ walk away. Kennin-ji is the oldest Zen temple in Kyoto, founded by Eisai Zenji, who brought Rinzai Zen from China to Japan. Also, Dogen Zenji lived and practiced at Kennin-ji. For me, it was moving to sit within this field and to have Zen neighbors like Eisai and Dogen practicing with us.
Our practice was constantly carried by the support and care of Jeff and his wife, Fusako. Jeff supported us in generous and open-hearted ways, such as: joining the sitting periods in the Hermitage in the morning and the evening; offering us daily one-on-one with his challenging mixture of inescapability and warmth while accompanying my struggles with what is true; opening the doors of Tofuku-ji so that we could join the evening sitting periods of the November sesshin and sit together with the monks; showing us beautiful places and inspiring spots, while telling interesting facts about their historic background and, inviting us to sometimes longer walks, where we could address our questions and impressions. All this was far more than I had expected.
While sitting day after day and hour after hour, something interesting happened: Traveling to Japan, being in Kyoto with its 1700 temples, living in the Hermitage – all of this was exciting and very special for me. But, as practice deepened over the course of the days, everything got increasingly simple. It was liberating to feel that nothing special is required, to come closer to and to get a sense of that, which makes everything complete without adding anything special …without adding anything at all.
I took a precious fruit from Kyoto back home. Above all, it is a deeper settling in and intimacy with the ordinary and a deeper involvement in all of daily life.
Christoph, Germany (50)
Returning Home
Why choose to fly halfway across the planet to sit inside for hours and hours, cross-legged? In summer of 2018 I had the good fortune of staying at the Hermitage for two weeks.
I’d visited Kyoto before on a couple of occasions. Both times as a tourist and, I confess, the first time as a bit of a Zen romantic. Fortunately, by now, after quite a few years of continuous practice, that notion and the expectation that had come with it, had been worn away, well mostly anyways.
That’s not to say that practicing in such close proximity to renowned Zen monasteries such as Kennin-ji and Tofuku-ji didn’t fuel my determination. And equally, I was left in awe, when one day on a bicycle ride with Jeff to Hanazono University, we stopped on a Kyoto side street. He casually pointed to a small shrine on the side of the road, explaining this is the spot where Zen Master Dogen had died some 765 years ago. But I guess Kyoto is just that kind of place.
I’d heard Kyoto can get a little warm in the summer, and the combination of jetlag, culture shock and the heat meant that by the time I arrived at the Hermitage I was a little disoriented and everything that could stick to me, stuck.
During the time I stayed at the Hermitage, Kyoto and the surrounding areas were hit by severe weather extremes. Days of scorching temperatures followed by torrential rains brought mudslides and subsequent loss of life to nearby towns and villages. They became a tragically poignant reminder of the fleetingness of this life.
Arriving at the Hermitage, I was warmly welcomed by one of the residents and another practitioner. On their helpful advice, a cold shower and some fresh sushi later, I was ready to sit. But boy was I feeling the heat! By this time I started to wonder whether I’d last the 2 weeks in the muggy and roasting Kyoto summer temperature.
During the second evening sit Jeff arrived. As if he’d sensed what I was thinking, he turned around and switched on a large fan that had been quiet for the previous four sits. How I bowed inwardly, and a wise teaching – if you’re hot, find shade and breeze. No need to suffer deliberately. And for me, this coolness of the fan was a metaphor for Jeff’s teaching: simple, direct, immensely practical and – like a refreshing breeze – cools the fires of confusion within. Small blessing, great gratitude.
Tellingly, I’d come with a suitcase full of books, thinking I would need them during my stay. Undoubtedly the words of the old masters can help spur us on. But with Jeff there every day and other dedicated practitioners either staying or visiting, there’s enough of that. With all due respect to the books and what they point toward, their physical presence and the fact that I’d lugged them halfway across the planet, they came to represent the weight I’d been willingly carrying around on my shoulders – and at the same time complaining about how heavy it all is! Endless delusions indeed.
The Hermitage is not a place to escape the world. Yes, in many ways it is a sanctuary, but the timetable has been very skilfully crafted. I could neither escape into the hustle and bustle of Kyoto and all its cultural delights, nor hide in the serene quietude of the Hermitage and withdraw from the world.
This was another wise and repeated lesson, as at various times it had become all to easy for ‘my’ practice to turn into something wrapped around the ego. Instead of being open to what is, I’d become closed-minded, very much about ‘me’. Rejecting one element of life whilst chasing after another, no different than any other desire, and an attempt to escape from suffering.
Maybe even worse, as it’s cloaked in a deluded holiness, and faux-spiritual ‘better-than-thou’ notion created by my ego as a way of not having to deal, recognise, confront and face what’s in front of me. And so I continue learning how practice and everyday life are not separate. Jeff very much encouraged me to ‘bring it out into the world’ as that careful attention, that open-heartedness and natural warmth and compassion for others, as it’s of no use otherwise.
Out of the two weeks I stayed, I was the only resident for about half the time. I soon settled into a routine and rhythm. Sweeping the front porch and a cup of coffee prior to the morning sit. Breakfast, washing, cleaning, buying food before the midday sit. In the afternoon, I cooked dinner and, weather permitting, a stroll along the Kamo River. Looking after the Hermitage became a fair exchange for it looking after me.
Some days felt long, others short. The days were always book-ended by Jeff’s presence, each time with the generous offer of one-on-one, as well as the frequent tasty morsels he’d bring along with him. That support was vital (and delicious!)
I’m not going to deny it – during some of the afternoon sits I questioned my sanity. The 50-minute periods sometimes went so slow it felt like 24 hours had past. In slow motion. Sitting alone, torrential rain clattering on the roof, through sometimes painful physical and mental feelings. I could get up any time I wanted. Yet something in me didn’t. Reflecting now on those moments, a deep joy and gratitude arises, for that resource is something that’s always there. To be still and endure, when the external, but more often internal, world seems in chaos.
The Hermitage itself has got everything one needs for sustained practice. Add to this Jeff’s expert guidance and Fusako’s loving kindness, and, really, what more does one need?
As I finish writing this, I feel the urge to bow East, whispering a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the Hermitage but especially to Jeff and Fusako and their family, whom I had the privilege of meeting, and I wonder how I can ever begin to repay this tremendous debt of gratitude. Their incredible support, generosity and warmth of heart carried me through my 2-week stay at the Hermitage.
Thank you, I look forward to visiting again. With love,
Joost, Dutchman living in the UK (41).
Western Hermit Practice
In December 2017 I had the pleasure of spending 2.5 weeks at the Hermitage in Kyoto. It was my second visit and this time I set myself the challenge of completing the Rohatsu retreat in the Tofukuji Training Monastery, a very intensive experience.
My ego and ambition turned out to be a little bigger than my Rohatsu experience. I left the monastery on the second day and continued the retreat in the hermitage under the experienced guidance of Jeff. Due to jet lag and sleep deprivation, I couldn’t keep my body warm and my mind cool enough to sustain the practice in this harsh environment.
This felt initially like I had ‘failed’. I had left my wife and children for 2.5 weeks to do this specific retreat and within a day I was back in the hermitage. This feeling of ‘defeat’ added an extra challenge to deal with during the remainder of my stay.
However, after a couple of days sitting still, and intense one on ones with Jeff, I realized that my stay at the hermitage was time very well spent. And I’m very grateful to everyone who made this possible, especially my wife and Jeff.
I had the privilege to meditate with some dedicated practitioners in the hermitage, and together we managed to stick to an intense retreat schedule similar to the monastery.
Moreover, Jeff’s presence and guidance helped me enormously. My inner doubt and resistance were at times so strong, but the daily one on ones kept me on track. Without his help and guidance I might not have had the strength to stay.
According to the dictionary, the meaning of ‘hermitage’ is: the dwelling of a hermit, especially when small and remote. And the meaning of a hermit is (among others), a person living in solitude as a religious discipline. Jeff and Fusako’s hermitage in Kyoto has all these elements: for a specific period of time you practice intensely in this small and remote dwelling whilst under the guidance of an experienced teacher.
And such an intensive retreat in this small and remote place is so valuable, especially for us westerners. Our hectic times and busy environments creates chaos in our minds. The ability to focus and clearly see, hear, feel and think of the important things in your life and that of others is at times almost impossible. And the price we pay for this ‘dis-ease’ in terms of health, compassion, relationships, fulfillment and so forth is very high. We can see this in those around us and experience this within ourselves. However, the mind and the ability to sense and feel clearly can be trained under the right conditions and guidance. You can do this with meditation, yoga or other contemplative practices. But to experience this for a longer period with others, in a suitable quiet place and especially under the expert guidance of an experienced teacher is of the utmost value.
I would highly recommend everyone to visit the hermitage in Kyoto for serious practice. Feel free to contact me if you want more information.
AJ ,the Netherlands (47)
Hermitage Report
I had the pleasure of staying at the Rokoan hermitage in Kyoto twice when I traveled to Japan to attend the Rohatsu Osesshin at the Tofukuji monastery in December of 2015 and 2017.
As a regular attendee at American retreats of the Being Without Self sangha since 2012, I had become acquainted with Jeff and his idiosyncratic style of teaching Zen Buddhism to laypeople. The experience of sustained zazen and individual one on one interviews during the many periods of silence during the retreats began to develop an aspiration within me to practice this way in a direct and committed fashion over several weeks in Japan.
I reached out out to the ever responsive Jeff and arranged for a two and half week stay at the hermitage as well as an introduction to the Tofukuji monks in order to be able to attend their formal retreat.
The hermitage environment is an excellent resource for any western Zen student wishing to have exposure to the Japanese Zen Buddhist complex. When I visited there were several members of the Being Without Self sangha already there and the familiar faces as well as Jeff’s generosity with his time made the practical navigation of Kyoto and surrounds extremely easy. The hermitage is a self sufficient practice center that is well appointed with everything necessary for practicing zazen, spending time individually with Jeff when he comes over during the morning and evening sitting periods and is flexible enough if one wishes to occasionally skip a few sittings in order to visit points of interest in Kyoto and the surrounding area.
We were also invited to participate in Jeff’s classroom activity as Zen students from the west and interacted with the priests in training and other students at Hanazono University where Jeff teaches. It was interesting to hear the questions and responses from the class of youngsters as they related to the practice of Zen. It appears that in Japan, zazen training is considered to be a rather ascetic and severe practice that is not engaged in by the general public and they were very curious to interact with westerners that came all the way to Japan to practice.
My personal experience of the rigor and long sitting periods during the cold days and nights of early December at the Tofukuji monastery was truly remarkable and made more fruitful by staying at Rokoan and having daily interviews with Jeff as a preparation. The hermitage was a home base where I felt comfortable getting acclimated to the time change and culture before the Rohatsu and a place to rest and reflect after.
This Zen practice is a highly personal affair; there is really no guidance in the world that can prepare the individual for what amounts to just being in the present moment and facing their true nature. It seems like a very simple thing to be able to do, however my personal mental conditioning and circumstances lead me to investigate this matter within the structure of the modern Zen school. To this end, my experience at Rokoan and with Jeff as a friendly guide and teacher is a great gift.
Milan, NYC, USA (age 42)
Hermitage Impressions
I arrived in Japan in the beginning of April at the tail end of the cherry blossoms. A few hours after landing in Kansai Airport, I was walking with Jeff Shore and with the other hermitage visitors, Haochen and Gosia, along the shores of the Kamo River, admiring the brilliant displays of purple and pink. Jeff enthusiastically oriented us to the beauty and history of Kyoto. After the walk, he oriented us to the rhythm of life in the hermitage and we kicked off our stay with our first zazen sit together.
I felt refreshed and energized to be back in Japan. I had lived previously at Sogenji. I had left the monastery three and half years ago opting to live a more conventional, workaday life in the States. Now another life transition awaited me. I was slotted to start grad school in late May. I planned this trip as a way to reconnect with the practice, to find solid ground, before starting off on the next life step. I would stay twelve days in the hermitage before going to Sogenji for Osesshin.
Jeff served as a wonderful guide during my stay. Nearly every morning and evening he joined us for zazen and gave one-on-one. On the days he was available Jeff showed us around the important Kyoto sites: Kennin-ji, Kiyomizu-dera, and the forest temples of Mt. Hiei. The several hours of zazen in the morning sensitized the mind to truly take in these special places.
The jet lag wore off and I felt naturally pulled to do more zazen. I began to sit more during the evenings. The street noise died down after nine. I relished the night’s stillness and relished the windowless space of the hermitage zendo in the late hours, not fully knowing whether it was day or night outside.
Amira moved in a day or two before Haochen and Gosia left. She became an excellent sitting companion and we would motivate each other to sit into the night. The pace and timbre of practice became steady and natural. We formed a routine for breakfast and for the midday meal. We learned at what times to make coffee or tea. We stuck to the prescribed hermitage timetable, but did not crumple if the schedule changed.
I appreciated the time Jeff could offer and the lovely meals at Jeff and Fusako’s. I appreciated the one-on-one encounters, especially in the mornings. They anchored my zazen, made clear why I had come in the first place.
The hermitage provided the space to focus on my practice, not in a grit-my-teeth way, but a natural, moment-to-moment approach. The more zazen I did, the more I wanted to keep going, to really see the world around me. Before thought, before all the subtle pangs of expectation or reversion, what is there?
After twelve days in the hermitage, I left to do Osesshin in Sogenji. Jeff, in his usual generous fashion, saw me off at the train station. I appreciated this final time spent together, especially the chance to ask questions about the practice in a straightforward manner.
Goodbye and Gassho. I was sitting in the train. I watched the mountains surrounding Kyoto recede as the bullet train shot westward. The stream of zazen out from the hermitage continued. And continues…
Piotr, USA (age 33)
Hermitage Account
I am very happy that I took the opportunity to sit and stay at Jeff Shore’s Hermitage for about a week. It is a beautiful place for sustained Zen practice. Jeff’s presence, care and love are beautifully felt. Every day, he came to sit with us at least one session and there were several opportunities to meet in one-on-one.
I was lucky that two other Truth lovers were at the Hermitage at the same time, so we could practice together. The sitting is intense, nine hours a day. What is sitting? For me: Just to be what is. Or to honor and cultivate our Stillness and not to be pulled into thinking. What is the effect of sitting truthfully? I experience a gathering of strength and confidence, an emerging of rest, which does not dissipate even in the activities of daily life.
It is very beautiful to have the small Hermitage in the middle of the city, a place of Light and Love.
Marco, Switzerland (39)
Hermitage account – February 2018
I felt welcomed the moment I shook hands with Jeff, just minutes after I had arrived in a new city and only a couple of days after I had landed in an extra-ordinary country.
I was home the moment Jeff showed me his ‘inner city hermitage’ and the street where I would live for the next nine days.
I felt part of the community of the men and women, Japanese and foreigners, with whom I would have the blessing to sit. Early in the morning and late at night. In the cold and in the pain often. In a beautiful spirit throughout.
I was part of the family when Jeff and his wife invited my housemate and I for dinner, offering us excellent food and drink, and great advice for the rest of my trip.
With high ambition, I had set to travel to Japan and learn about Zen. It seemed to make sense. I now see the significant role my ego-self had played in this decision. I could have ended up anywhere, but I was blessed with discovering the Rōkoan hermitage and meeting a teacher who embodies the qualities of kindness, wisdom and presence. I am immensely grateful for this opportunity, which has given me more trust in this journey.
While I would not be able to describe in words what zazen is about, I have the deep feeling I have touched some of the essence of the practice. I was shown Zen in paintings, on sliding doors, in gardens, in poems and in koans. And, above all, in people.
As I was grasping and wishing for these days not to finish, Jeff told me that a retreat does not end when one leaves. As I am sitting and writing these words thousands of miles away from Kyoto, I now see what he meant. Or do I?
Guillaume F, Swiss (age 36)
The Value of the Hermitage
Over the last 8 years I stayed at the hermitage once every two years, five separate visits, each lasting anywhere from a month to 3 months. The main value the hermitage provides, I thought initially, lies in providing a sesshin type of environment combined with daily one on one with Jeff. But later I came to appreciate something else, equally valuable: the time spent with Jeff outside of the hermitage, in the city of Kyoto.
My first visit in 2009 revolved completely around sitting with no interest at all in “seeing the sites” (as I thought of it then) with Jeff. So I came for 3 months, sat 12 hours a day, attended 2 sesshin at Tofukuji, and did one on one with Jeff at least twice daily. As mentioned in the first and only hermitage account I wrote 8 years ago, the one on ones with Jeff were beneficial in ways that seemed miraculous at the time. Even to this day I feel very fortunate that Jeff was there at the beginning, to help provide a living sense of what it means to “completely focus all one’s energy” in zazen. I doubt I could have come to that on my own. He also tried to get me out for lunch and for other stuff I did not care about, and out of politeness I would go. We had a great conversation once at a pizza place, but apart from that I found leaving the hermitage annoying and a waste of what I felt was very little precious time.
The next two years of my life went on with the same intensity of focus I had learned at the hermitage during that first visit. With such strong advice in the beginning, it was easy to integrate that focus into my life at home, which included taking full advantage of Jeff’s US retreats. Fairly soon, for a variety of reasons, the one on one’s were not offering the challenges and inspiration they did initially, even though I was definitely looking for them. Since I could not find what I was looking for in one on one, I began to look more carefully at Jeff’s life to see if the challenges were offered there without his intention, in a manner that was more natural for me to appreciate. It was all there once I began to look. The shortcomings were there too, but Jeff’s whole life in Kyoto and in the time we had spent together in the US outside of retreat was filled with very subtle unintended displays of selflessness that I found very inspiring, and unquestionably lacking in my own life. Is something holding me back, even though I don’t feel held back or lacking in freedom? Is rousing and focusing doubt crucial at this point in a way I am failing to appreciate? This has become for me the “other” value of the hermitage, going well beyond hours of zazen and one on one interviews. In the end, they all work together somehow as part of a complete practice.
So in addition to offering a sesshin type of practice environment, living at the hermitage offers the opportunity for “exchanges” with Jeff to arise more naturally and organically than during retreat and formal one on one interviews, and this may provide additional occasions to see what’s what. The retreats and one on one have their own value too, much like sesshin at Tofukuji. But if you can make the time, go to Kyoto and take advantage of both. (2017)
In late April, 2009, at the age of 39, I arrived in Kyoto for a 3-month zazen retreat at the hermitage. There were a lot of events that led up to this, but there were a few in particular that gave me the feeling that I needed to do it. I had given up on a lucrative career in finance in order to pursue a more fulfilling career teaching. Though this was a step in the right direction, something still wasn’t right. I was still searching. About three years before coming to Kyoto I had taken up zazen in the hopes that somehow this practice would help give some sense to a world and/or life that didn’t seem to have any. Though I was immediately grateful to have discovered zazen and the Rinzai tradition, “practice” began as just a part of my life.
Slowly over the following year it became clear that practice needed to become my whole life, and that I needed to start making decisions that would allow this to happen. I had read enough on the importance of cultivating “Great Doubt” to know that this was not happening in my practice. I was still on a career path (teaching) that I pursued largely because I found it fulfilling. Instead of focusing all the energies of this “hunger for fulfillment” on my koan in zazen, I continued to seek fulfillment in my career, and other areas of my life as well, zazen being only one of these. So a little over a year before arriving in Kyoto, I quit teaching, and chose a career (waiting tables) that had little or no chance of catering to my sense of purpose. Though I had often considered such work “dead end” jobs, the lack of ambition and drive this work required was perfect for zazen. Practice was naturally becoming more focused and continuous. Great Doubt was growing.
But why come to Kyoto? I was pretty confident that I knew what needed to be done and that I didn’t need a teacher to do it, but I contacted Jeff (whom I had met once during his sabbatical) by email and asked him what he thought about my idea of practicing alone for a couple of years in a hermitage of my choosing. In his own words Jeff told me that even if it turns out that no guidance is needed in my case, it can’t hurt to have someone around to help keep the practice focused and to point out blind spots in case there are any. I agreed. A year or so later I was in Kyoto practicing at the hermitage.
Was the guidance necessary? I think it would be insulting to call the guidance I received “necessary.” I went to Kyoto because I thought it might be necessary, but I left wondering what I had done to receive such a gift. The retreat environment of the hermitage (including sesshin at Tofukuji) provided the support I was hoping for, but I never could have expected the guidance I received in one-on-one. The harder I pushed, the more helpful Jeff proved. It’s not that I had some great kenshô experience or something like that, because I didn’t. But I could see what genuine zazen was a lot more clearly when I left than when I had arrived. I don’t see how I could have discerned the delicate subtleties and nuances of practice without Jeff’s help. In a very positive sense the entire experience was very humbling. “How the hell did this happen?” I thought. The gratitude I felt during this time has only grown since. It’s obvious that you don’t find this kind of lineage and guidance. It finds you.
If you are at the point in your life where you are trying to figure out how to give yourself more fully to your practice, it “can’t hurt” to spend some time at the hermitage. All the best. (2009)
Jack V, USA (age 39)
Six-Week Stay at the Hermitage after Finishing my College Studies in Munich in 2016
From the beginning of November until the middle of December I spent 6 weeks at the Hermitage. I was very warmly welcomed and had the great fortune to meet Christian and Leon upon my arrival. So I felt at home very quickly, though I needed a few days to adapt to the noise of the busy street around the corner and my jet lag.
Reflecting back, I had the time of my life in Kyōto. The warmth and encouragement I received on my ways beyond belief. Besides the intense sittings, I also had the chance to soak myself in the beauty of the city and the Japanese culture. I found the perfect place where practice and daily life walk hand in hand. With Jeff’s marvelous and humbling embodiment of that always close by. And, to top it off, the presence of his lovely wife Fusako.
After the first few days at the Hermitage I had the chance to do a few days of sesshin at Tōfukuji Monastery, which left a great impact on me. The centuries-old surrounding with its subtle smell of sweat and pain of countless seekers before me penetrated deep into my bones. As the icing on the cake, I had the chance to meet there with the abbot as well as Jeff.
The second chapter at Tōfukuji opened up for me in the Rohatsu retreat. Sleeping only 2 hours and devoting all of myself to the practice was very precious. When you’re ready for that, it’s truly something you need to see with your own eyes.
The Hermitage is equipped with everything you need. Supermarkets, shopping center and other cute Japanese shops are nearby. Within five minutes there is a wonderful fruit and veggie store with epic bananas, avocados and kaki (persimmons). I recommend it. 🙂 During Christian’s stay we would often cook all kinds of miso soup and rice together for lunch, which was a great joy for me.
Guided by Jeff I had the pleasure to experience Japanese hot springs, wonderful walks in the nearby hills, traditional food and so much more. Enjoying Fusako’s Japanese cuisine added another precious flavor to the whole experience.
From December Pablo from Spain came to the Hermitage so I even had a sitting buddy after Rohatsu. Though there was amazing company, the focus was mostly on of my own practice. Exposing myself over and over again, stepping beyond myself, peeling off old skin, unveiling layer after layer. Excruciating pain and sadness. Fear. Ugliness. Uncertainty. Doubt. Stuckness. Unworthiness. Freezing from the cold outside.
So is the Hermitage a place where all your wishes come true? Certainly not. Yet if you open up to where you are at any given moment, you’ll be perfectly met there. That at least was my experience. Every time I think of it, I am overwhelmed with immense gratitude for how I was met and treated by Jeff.
I send all my love to the friends I met at the Hermitage who all profoundly shaped my life: Christian, Leon, Brian, Pablo, Vera, Trevor and David.
Ludwig, München Germany (age 24)
Cold body, warm heart – three weeks in Kyoto, December 2016
I arrived in Kyoto just in time to go to Tofukuji for the last three days of the rohatsu o-sesshin (that means “the mother of all retreats”, roughly). There I found Ludwig, a great German kid who had been in Kyoto for over a month by the time I got there, and who would become my zazen “partner in crime” for the first half of my stay. Although I just dipped my feet in monastic life, it was enough for me to realize that’s not my path: all my romantic ideas swept away like old maple leaves. I realized I could bear the pain, the cold, the sleep deprivation… but that all of that wouldn’t make me a better, happier person.
Back from Tofukuji, Ludwig and I would alternate regular zazen sessions at the hermitage with some sightseeing in and around Kyoto with our reliable tour guide Mr. Jeff Shore. After Ludwig left, I started my own 7-day retreat at the hermitage. Following my own rhythm, I meditated for around 13 hours every day, doing long kinhin sessions as well as regular zazen, taking short pauses for lunch, and after sitting in the evenings with the monks at Tofukuji, sleeping a good 7 hours at night. Instead of trudging along, fighting against my body, the practice became naturally solid, and I still feel I could have gone on like that for months. No pain, no lack of sleep. Well, there was cold, but it wasn’t that bad. Then it ended and I had to come back to Spain, where Christmas awaited me.
I learned much during my stay in Kyoto, much more than what I can write here — or anywhere else, for that matter. But I can’t finish this report without expressing my infinite gratitude to Jeff and Fusako: their constant support, help, warmth and hospitality were overwhelming. I still can’t fully believe how well they treated me, how lucky I am. Truly, this is a marvelous life.
Pablo C. Spain (age 28)
Hermitage Report – Kyoto, October 18, 2016
There were moments when everything fell down, and what was right there became clear. There was a moment where I found myself sitting in between Jeff and our friend Hoi and I was sure that I was in between two cast iron skillets; two bronze statues. There, unveiled, was an uncompromising discipline; a brick-wall resolve to dismantle. That glimpse became for me a vow to aspire to. That vow allowed me to break through the pain.
Jeff’s presence in zazen was like sitting across from a bottomless lake: one so deep, so calmed, and so clear that it was impossible to see even a sliver beyond its glacier-blue circular surface. Like a solid, immovable block of ice: not because it seemed frozen, but because it was so permeable that it couldn’t be agitated. It was that kind of living stillness, that kind of touching-but-not-touching, that echoed what I found in my own glimpses of “before-thought.”
The opportunity to practice at the hermitage in the heart of Kyoto broadened the breadth of insight. My visit coincided with the formal induction of the new abbot at Tofukuji, where Jeff himself practiced for decades and received guidance. Witnessing the ceremonial procession of the monks entering the temple to honor this succession granted me an even deeper understanding of the profound way this teaching has been passed down, from mind to mind, since the infinite beginning. Perhaps I’ve begun to see that its purity has been preserved precisely because of the inability to utter it, which exists alongside the overwhelming compulsion to share it. Perhaps I’ve begun to accept that my own need to express it needn’t be perfect; that I need only to point at it, to nudge it in a certain direction, and then let it go.
I know that I have just received the most incredible gift. I am steadfast in continuing to nourish it through constant practice so that I may share this gift with others, as Jeff has done for me. This direct experience is the only means that could have possibly allowed me to understand the process that Jeff and countless others have undertaken: shedding oneself for the sake of everyone else. It amazes me to realize that I was likely not even in the world yet when Jeff began this process and passed through the most difficult part, but that, somehow, he had me in mind.
The words that Jeff spoke to me during one-on-one have resounded through me at the darkest moments, and at the most joyful as well. In twelve days he gave me access to a lifetime’s worth of wisdom. The most amazing part of this realization is attempting to grasp that what I’ve glimpsed is only a drop in the ocean.
Jeff’s generosity, openness, trust and compassion are beyond what I can comprehend. His raw direction has an incredible fatherly kindness to it that pierced straight into my heart and cracked it open: yellow light in every direction. I am forever grateful, and I am freed in knowing that I only need to live as a full celebration of this love in order to be a sincere expression of that gratitude.
Gasshou, Andrea O, USA (age 30)
Hermitage Report
I visited Jeff Shore in Kyoto two years ago in October for one month, including 3 weeks at the hermitage, then one week in Tofukuji for a monastic sesshin, and after that some days again in the hermitage. I was there together with Raoul, a Zen friend who came with me from Bremen, and Sergio from Mexico.
The daily schedule was nine periods of zazen: 50 minutes each with breaks of 10 minutes, starting at 6 a.m. and ending at 9 p.m. Every morning and evening Jeff joined so that we could have one-on-one twice a day! At other times we were free to shop, cook, take walks, etc.
I was happy to have a very good team with Raoul and Sergio – we did nearly everything together and supported each other very well. Also, Jeff showed us many interesting places in the city and surroundings. His home is around the corner from the hermitage so he visited us often. Also he and his wife Fusako invited us to their home on occasion. It was very pleasant. We went also to Hanazono University, where Jeff is professor, to give a short talk for his Japanese students about our respective lives, professions, and cultures.
Before we went to the Tôfukuji monastery for seven days sesshin, Jeff gave us the opportunity to sit there a few evenings with the monks. That was possible because he has known the abbot for a long time. It was a great help to encourage and prepare us for the sesshin. Afterwards we could reflect on our monastic experience and recover from it in the hermitage before traveling home. That was very helpful as well.
If you are ready to deepen your Zen practice while staying in the real world, the hermitage is the right place. For me the sitting was very hard and painful. Also, I didn’t sleep well because I was sensitive to the street noise. But the daily one-on-ones and the support of Raoul and Sergio helped me to get through it all.
Deep concentration in a small group – without giving up my own responsibility – was a new experience for me. Before that, I knew only retreats where I give up all responsibility to the jiki and the retreat schedule. Thus I struggled with problems and couldn’t find the time to sit really concentrated. Here there was strong form yet free decision, concentration on my own yet going out into the (in this case, Japanese!) world, being challenged to the extreme yet constantly supported. I cried nearly every day, yet I was really glad: life seemed so hard and so easy at the same time. I’m very glad and thankful to have had this opportunity! Thank you, Jeff.
gassho Eva P, Bremen, Germany (age 55)
Kyoto: A Stay at the Hermitage 2010
I share here some of my experiences from Jeff’s Hermitage and the Rinzai training monastery of Tofukuji in Kyoto. I hope it will be of some use to those who consider a trip to Japan.
After many years of retreats in The Netherlands, Hungary and the United States, I felt it was time for me to experience Zen practice in Japan. I went to Kyoto with my Dharma-friend G and we stayed at the Hermitage for about a month (from the end of November until the end of December 2010). Jeff provided the perfect opportunity with his Hermitage and his introductions to join two sesshins at Tofukuji monastery. In between the sesshins at Tofukuji, we sat at the Hermitage and allowed ourselves to walk Kyoto streets and hills as regular tourists. It also gave me memorable moments, like night sitting in a graveyard on top of a half built grave overlooking the city lights of Kyoto.
The most valuable part of staying at the Hermitage was the opportunity to have daily one-on-one with Jeff in the mornings and evenings. These frequent exchanges, however short they might be, proved to be pivotal in my Zen training. To continually put myself in front of this Zen-wall was at times deeply frustrating, but equally deeply rewarding. I suddenly realized I had entered Koan training – but in such a natural and informal way that I only became aware of it when I woke up one morning with this nagging question in my head, heart and body. There was no way I could get rid of the damn thing. It made me laugh at myself – so this is what it means when a Koan sticks to you and you get stuck on it. This is definitely not an academic, intellectual word game. And from experience I can now testify – it works!
Although sitting is basically the same any place in the world, the atmosphere of a Rinzai training monastery is incomparable to anything I’ve experienced and as I found, nothing can really prepare you for it. The thunderous sound of fierce hitting with the keisaku, the confusing speed of the dinner rituals, the intense cold in winter, the stone hard and equally cold tatami-mats in the Hondô (hall for lectures and sutra recitations), these things can be told, but are only understood when experienced by oneself. Zen itself it is a matter of practice. Only then will you know how your body and mind react to these conditions.
To be able to take part in a sesshin with the monks and share a bit of their life has made a difference. The intensity and rigor of such meditation discipline definitely affected my meditation practice, as well as my perspective on it. It was also a clash of cultural differences, a confrontation of conceptual views, and ultimately a confrontation with myself. Personally, the experience contributed to a fundamental change from a floundering practice into a daily discipline from within. It brought me a thorough awareness of what Zen practice is about and what it means to me. I learned more in these intense weeks in Kyoto than in many years of European retreats.
All in all, even after dropping out of the Rôhatsu sesshin after five days with symptoms of hypothermia, I can only say that it has been worth the travel, trouble and effort. I recently returned to the Hermitage for a weeklong retreat – sitting in the morning at the Hermitage and joining the monks at Tofukuji for the evening sitting periods. I can now recommend the Spring temperatures over the ones in December, if even just to lower at least one barrier for yourself.
The experiences in Kyoto also taught me that our meditation efforts in the West are in no way ‘inferior’ to the Japanese tradition. When asked about Zen practice in the West, the present master, Harada Roshi at Tofukuji said: “What matters is if it’s done with heart.”
I wish you all lots of ‘heart’ and a wonderful stay at the Hermitage. (By the way, if you intend to take part in a Winter sesshin, don’t forget to bring heat-pads to wear under seven layers of thermal clothes 😉 ).
Gasshou, Stefan v W, NL (age 46)
Gasshou, Stefan v W, NL (age 46)
My Experience at the Hermitage
Practice in the hermitage with Jeff helped me to end a lot of misunderstandings and fantasies about Zen practice, and brought me back on track to a more honest and real practice. It was an invaluable experience – and I am looking forward to return to Japan again next year to get to the bottom of myself. (2012)
I had the oportunity to practice and stay a second time at the hermitage. This time for over a month, plus a weeklong sesshin in the Tofukuji training monastery. There were four of us laypeople living together at the hermitage, so I could share the practice with serious and committed practitioners from different parts of the world. Practice at the hermitage was intense and steady, but in a different format from the monastery, because it is squarely grounded in our regular, daily lives (going to the supermarket, to a coffee shop when there’s time, etc.) Yet you are solidly sitting for about 8 hours a day. The most important thing is one-on-one twice every day with Jeff; this keeps you on track all the time, so you can steadily dig deeper into your practice. At the end we did the Tofukuji sesshin, which was very valuable and intense. It helped me to go deeper into what I was working on with Jeff. One day during the monastery sesshin, before the evening sittings, rain was pouring down all around us; I will never forget the one-on-one with Jeff then. At that moment I realized: “This is real practice!” The other day somebody ask me what I learned, what remains from the experience? My answer: “Complete trust in the practice.” (2013)
For me, staying at the hermitage is real practice. I have stayed there now five times over the last several years, from a few weeks to a full month each time. The intensity of having extended sitting periods with invaluable one-on-one sessions twice a day with Jeff, plus immersion in Japanese culture, is incomparable with anything I experienced before. All of it helping to propel in many ways the existential need for constant practice, and making it impossible to depart from the practice. (2016)
Leon C, Mexico (age 42)
A Month at the Hermitage
In 2011 I spent almost the whole month of December at the Hermitage in Kyoto. The first thing I noticed: it is a rather small place. Japanese people are used to living in houses like this, but we were three big foreign guys, and we needed to carefully use whatever space was available. Futons needed to be stowed away every morning simply because otherwise we would not have enough space to do zazen. Even getting rid of our suitcases proved quite a challenge. There is a closet upstairs, but it is best not to bring more than you really need.
S (my Dutch Dharma buddy) and I had come to do some serious sitting: it was the time of the Rohatsu sesshin at Tofukuji and we joined them. I decided, because of an injury, to just go in for the evening sits from 5-11PM, while S stayed at Tofukuji. Coming to Japan allowed me to sit in an environment (be it the Hermitage or Tofukiji) that was dedicated to sitting. Plus at the Hermitage there was Jeff coming in twice a day for one-on-one. That alone was worth every Euro we spent (including all we spent on souvenirs). I set up a zazen schedule (more or less the Tofukuji sesshin schedule) to sit by myself and somehow managed to follow it for almost the whole month. Over time I developed a set routine: espresso, breakfast, groceries, checking emails at the Gojo Café, cooking etc.
Not to be too holy: there was time off for sightseeing, souvenir shopping and dinners out also. We sat hard, but had plenty of good times too. What I especially remember was that I slowly got ‘sucked’ into the practice. I am used to sitting daily and to doing a few 4-5 day retreats per year, but actually sitting a consistent schedule for 25 days (including the one-on-ones) proved a very powerful way to deepen my practice and to become ‘walled in’ by it gradually. This evolved quite naturally and whenever we sat a lighter schedule or had a day of sightseeing, it didn‘t really break the hold the practice had on me.
Going to Tofukuji the first time was impressive. The whole place is geared to just one thing: Zen practice. Everything and everybody is a cog in that clockwork and you just have to make sure you do what is required at the right time. Initially it can be rather daunting. There is an intensity that starts right at the front gate and it is wonderfully inspiring and encouraging. Going there on my own or with Jeff and Alex meant a 30 minute walk south – a natural way of preparing for it.
Another thing I noticed: most Japanese do not speak English well. It is difficult to strike up even a casual conversation. Walking along the Kyoto city streets never made me feel like I was a ‘tourist’ though. The Japanese people are very polite: I’m sure I violated plenty of rules but I was never confronted about it – except of course at Tofukuji. Remember to walk quietly while there!
The Hermitage proved to be an excellent place to practice: the three of us always managed to sit together at least some periods every day and Jeff was available every day at least twice for one-on-ones. During sesshin we did three: one in the morning, one before leaving for Tofukuji around 4:30PM, and one after we got back at around 11:30PM. This too added to the intensity of my stay: there was no escaping or lagging. The mere fact that every single day – without exception – there was one-on-one kept me focused on the practice almost non-stop. Maintaining that for about a month (with all the ups-and-downs that you will inevitably experience in a month of intense sitting) was a unique and truly invaluable process, unlike any retreat or 1 month stays in a meditation centre in India I had done before.
‘Vaut le voyage’ as they say about three-star Michelin restaurants: ‘Worth the journey’. Trust me, that is an understatement here.
Gasshou. Guus v. O, NL (age 52)
Gasshou. Guus v. O, NL (age 52)
A Day at Rôko-an
03:00 – Wake-up. Curse myself for a moment. Stretch my arms and legs. Jump-up. Get the lights. Drink a glass of milk with a bit of honey. Splash my face with cold water.
03:05 – Zazen! In the mornings, the whole city slumbers. The sound of the traffic is nothing but a ghostly trickle. Sometimes, I hear the clack-clack-clack of heels against the pavement, but it usually only punctuates the prevailing silence and serenity of pre-dawn Kyoto. Ah, how wondrous just to sit and be!
06:30 – Restless. The pale blue glow of dawn spills in through the back door. The rice paper windows begin to faintly glow. A steady stream of taxis and bikes zip by. I long for sky above and the hues of dawn cast upon the scattered clouds. Make a cup of black tea with a shot of milk. Fill a water bottle. Pack my yoga mat and backpack.
06:40 – Stroll through Kyoto. Stop at a bright orange temple. Bow in gasshou to a 12-foot, 12-headed Kannon statue– “May I and all beings awaken!” Try to keep my attention inward – but what a beautiful girl, and those azaleas are such a vivid pink, as if the bush was aflame with flowers. Walk through Kennin-ji, the first Zen temple in Kyoto, amost next door. My heart settles amidst velvet-green moss, ancient pines, and tea bushes. Stop at a monument to Dôgen. Gasshou. From there, I head west to the river.
07:10 – Sitting beside the Kamo River beneath a willow. An old Japanese man places a can of cafe au lait at my feet and offers to buy me breakfast. I decline. We talk briefly before he gasshous and reverently leaves. I close my eyes and all that remains is the sound of a river, of salary men and joggers, and of bikes and cars flowing by.
09:30 – Walk back to Rôko-an, the hermitage. An old Japanese woman hunched over her cane greets me with a warm smile and “Ohayô Gozaimasu.”
09:50 – Light incense. Take a swig of water and a quick piss. Brush my teeth. Sweep the genkan entrance and the street outside. Pick the weeds out from the cracks.
10:00 – Zazen. Just the three of us – Alex, Jeff, and I, sit still in a windowless room. The walls and doors sometimes rattle as traffic rushes by. “Don’t those jerks know I’m meditating!?” We go upstairs for one-on-one. Jeff”s presence and guidance keeps me sharp and focused.
11:00 – Cook lunch. Alex and I chat while we dance in the kitchen – cutting cabbage, frying eggs, burning toast. We sit for a moment at the table and eat, sometimes talking, sometimes not.
12:00 – A belly full of food, I go for a stroll through Kyoto. Beautiful traditional houses with a rustic charm and modern, concrete monstrosities line the street. A beautiful Juniper bonsai catches my eye.
13:00 – Zazen back at Rôko-an. I sit with only the rattling doors and murmur of traffic for company. Soon, even that seems to fade.
16:00 – Restless. Pour myself a glass of milk. Lay down and admire the wood grain in the panels on the ceiling.
16:15 – Zazen. The traffic continues, joined by the intermittent shouts and laughs of children.
18:45 – Light incense. Swig down some oolong tea cooled in the fridge. Splash my face with water.
19:00 – Zazen. As soon as I hear that door slide open, I become taut and focused. I remember why I am here. Whatever’s said upstairs in the one-on-one room, there is one enduring message: don’t waste your time give yourself completely to whatever you’re doing.
20:00 – Alex and I chat for a bit after zazen. Our conversations range from the beauty of the breath, the history and richness of the Zen tradition, working with doubt, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. After, I pack my bag and yoga mat.
20:10 – To the dead! I stroll down the main street, headlights and backlights streaming by. Young Japanese kids weave through pedestrians on their bikes. As I approach the cemetery, the noises of the city quiet to a ghostly echo. The only living thing that remains here are the stray cats which sometimes dart beneath the streetlights or vanish in the cracks between houses. Even the crows have gone to sleep.
20:30 – Yaza on a granite plateau overlooking the city. The gravestone-obelisks stagger beneath the Kyoto skyline, the mountains behind lost in a dark haze. The graves mock the city which I sit before, a reminder that even the skyscrapers and towering apartment complexes will someday come crumbling down.
22:00 – Tired, I drag myself back to Roko-an.
22:15 – Drink some water. Rub my eyes and yawn. Brush my teeth. Roll out my futon. Ah, sleep!
Brendan S, USA (age 21)
03:05 – Zazen! In the mornings, the whole city slumbers. The sound of the traffic is nothing but a ghostly trickle. Sometimes, I hear the clack-clack-clack of heels against the pavement, but it usually only punctuates the prevailing silence and serenity of pre-dawn Kyoto. Ah, how wondrous just to sit and be!
06:30 – Restless. The pale blue glow of dawn spills in through the back door. The rice paper windows begin to faintly glow. A steady stream of taxis and bikes zip by. I long for sky above and the hues of dawn cast upon the scattered clouds. Make a cup of black tea with a shot of milk. Fill a water bottle. Pack my yoga mat and backpack.
06:40 – Stroll through Kyoto. Stop at a bright orange temple. Bow in gasshou to a 12-foot, 12-headed Kannon statue– “May I and all beings awaken!” Try to keep my attention inward – but what a beautiful girl, and those azaleas are such a vivid pink, as if the bush was aflame with flowers. Walk through Kennin-ji, the first Zen temple in Kyoto, amost next door. My heart settles amidst velvet-green moss, ancient pines, and tea bushes. Stop at a monument to Dôgen. Gasshou. From there, I head west to the river.
07:10 – Sitting beside the Kamo River beneath a willow. An old Japanese man places a can of cafe au lait at my feet and offers to buy me breakfast. I decline. We talk briefly before he gasshous and reverently leaves. I close my eyes and all that remains is the sound of a river, of salary men and joggers, and of bikes and cars flowing by.
09:30 – Walk back to Rôko-an, the hermitage. An old Japanese woman hunched over her cane greets me with a warm smile and “Ohayô Gozaimasu.”
09:50 – Light incense. Take a swig of water and a quick piss. Brush my teeth. Sweep the genkan entrance and the street outside. Pick the weeds out from the cracks.
10:00 – Zazen. Just the three of us – Alex, Jeff, and I, sit still in a windowless room. The walls and doors sometimes rattle as traffic rushes by. “Don’t those jerks know I’m meditating!?” We go upstairs for one-on-one. Jeff”s presence and guidance keeps me sharp and focused.
11:00 – Cook lunch. Alex and I chat while we dance in the kitchen – cutting cabbage, frying eggs, burning toast. We sit for a moment at the table and eat, sometimes talking, sometimes not.
12:00 – A belly full of food, I go for a stroll through Kyoto. Beautiful traditional houses with a rustic charm and modern, concrete monstrosities line the street. A beautiful Juniper bonsai catches my eye.
13:00 – Zazen back at Rôko-an. I sit with only the rattling doors and murmur of traffic for company. Soon, even that seems to fade.
16:00 – Restless. Pour myself a glass of milk. Lay down and admire the wood grain in the panels on the ceiling.
16:15 – Zazen. The traffic continues, joined by the intermittent shouts and laughs of children.
18:45 – Light incense. Swig down some oolong tea cooled in the fridge. Splash my face with water.
19:00 – Zazen. As soon as I hear that door slide open, I become taut and focused. I remember why I am here. Whatever’s said upstairs in the one-on-one room, there is one enduring message: don’t waste your time give yourself completely to whatever you’re doing.
20:00 – Alex and I chat for a bit after zazen. Our conversations range from the beauty of the breath, the history and richness of the Zen tradition, working with doubt, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. After, I pack my bag and yoga mat.
20:10 – To the dead! I stroll down the main street, headlights and backlights streaming by. Young Japanese kids weave through pedestrians on their bikes. As I approach the cemetery, the noises of the city quiet to a ghostly echo. The only living thing that remains here are the stray cats which sometimes dart beneath the streetlights or vanish in the cracks between houses. Even the crows have gone to sleep.
20:30 – Yaza on a granite plateau overlooking the city. The gravestone-obelisks stagger beneath the Kyoto skyline, the mountains behind lost in a dark haze. The graves mock the city which I sit before, a reminder that even the skyscrapers and towering apartment complexes will someday come crumbling down.
22:00 – Tired, I drag myself back to Roko-an.
22:15 – Drink some water. Rub my eyes and yawn. Brush my teeth. Roll out my futon. Ah, sleep!
Brendan S, USA (age 21)
Five-Day Retreat at the Hermitage
My five-day retreat at Jeff’s hermitage was a gift that came as I was on my way home to the USA after completing three years of training at a Rinzai Zen temple in Japan. I had been passionately training my breath and concentration, but was often suppressing my emotions. Lacking understanding and effective tools, my efforts at one-pointed concentration frequently resulted in tension and insecurity. Jeff’s approach helped me to unravel my emotional blockage and strive forth into a settled several days of real zazen.
I came convinced that I could not exhale in a long, comfortable way unless I had worn myself out trying for a few days in a sesshin. Jeff taught me to naturally breathe to and from the ground, from the earth itself. He showed me how the whole universe is supporting us in our practice. His meditation instruction was a sorely needed contrast to the samurai-style zazen I was stuck in. I connected with this instruction because of its supportive feel and practical straightforwardness. It continues to be a key tool for me.
By the second day it was apparent to Jeff, and then to myself, that I was running from my emotions and therefore the present moment. I was trying to just sit on the earth and believe it would support me, but I was still overwhelmed with fear and tension from some unacknowledged blockage. In one of the one-on-one meetings with Jeff on my second day he asked: “Do you know what you are running from?” I didn’t know how to answer, but it sure was refreshing that he was asking directly and giving me practical guidance.
He showed me how to let it come all the way up, and then really let it go. In this way, I could get down to the real work. I then gave myself some time to inquire: “What am I afraid of? What am I running from?” Addressing my body tension and blocked breathing directly allowed me to give myself permission and time to try new tools and acknowledge blocked feelings. Jeff helped me to acknowledge the thoughts and feelings that needed to work themselves through in order to move on.
I was very content, warm, and well fed in the hermitage, and visited by wonderful people who sometimes came to sit zazen. The question “What is lacking?” has become a precious concentration tool for weeding away the trivial thoughts that come from cravings and worries.
Jeff pointed out the problem of obsessing about a specific breathing technique. He warned me against mistaking any one technique for true Zen experience. In hindsight it seems that this should have been obvious to me, but my insecure thinking habits had me convinced that my breathing was just not adequate for zazen. This was an important turning point for me to let go of my obsession with the breath, and have more confidence in using the needed tools for gathering all into one. I found the tools he taught me to be effective, and once my concentration began to pick up momentum, I was pleased to experience that my three years of breathing and koan training had not been in vain.
When my concentration became stronger, the one-on-ones veered away from technique and directly into the living koan-questions of the moment. After a few years in a training temple in Japan, I had plenty of questions for Jeff as well. I was pleased to be able to ask my own clarifying questions and receive straightforward answers.
Jeff sent me off after my mostly solo retreat with the needed meditation tools and a deep sense of satisfaction. I have become more settled, more concentrated in a natural and comfortable way. Jeff’s parting words were a follow-up on “What is lacking?” and a response to my angst about the uncertain future I was heading into.
I hope this description of my experience will encourage readers to embark on a zazen retreat as soon as possible!
Raine W, U.S. (age 28).
Raine W, U.S. (age 28).
Brief thoughts on your stay at the hermitage
The time you are here should have one real focus, one true intention. That is breaking through, that is taking that steady, calm eye and honing it in and looking, digging and gazing into the perplexity of your utterly simple soul.
Sit, walk, bathe, eat and drink and take a dump on that warm toilet, but always without a break; keep that eye in penetrating gaze. Do not give it up for thoughts about pain or boredom or food or comfort. Don’t waste time beating yourself up because you dropped your practice and don’t waste time wallowing in these distractions. Return to your practice and eat, drink, and get some exercise, but do not let your practice go.
Don’t exchange it for the most glorious idea or insight or vision; it is not a fair trade and you will squander your time.
Don’t waste time in reflection or conversation or in fantasy or deprecation. Don’t exchange your practice for any of these.
Don’t give up your practice even for the sweet release of the mind in darkness, whether it’s laying down at night or sitting upright on your cushions. When you have your attention about you, put it to your practice.
The point of this hermitage is single pointed. Do zazen, do kinhin (walking zen), do one-on-one, eat well – and in all you do, keep your practice. You will have plenty of time to reflect later. If you are here at the hermitage you have made a sacrifice to focus on this one thing, this singular practice; continue that sacrifice. This is not the time to integrate your life and your practice; you will learn that after your time here. This is the time to penetrate beyond the usual boundaries of Self. Your entire life will continue in this practice, this is your time to establish some of the deepest foundations and break down some of the most hidden fortresses.
Don’t give my advice another thought.
Fr Justin L, USA (age 30)
Fr Justin L, USA (age 30)
Hermitage Account 2014
I spent a brief 10 days at the Rokoan hermitage in April/May 2014. Having practiced for many years in another Zen tradition in Australia, I had been listening to and reading Jeff’s talks for about 5 years and I found they spoke to me in a way that grew over time, so I decided to make the journey and meet Jeff. Jeff was quite welcoming, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, despite never having met me. Staying at Rokoan proved to be an important step in my practice because I found when I arrived that something within me was unresolved and Jeff skilfully asked me a series of simple but incisive questions that focused me on the underlying issue. Morning and evening interviews with Jeff and a schedule of zazen that included evening sits at Tofukuji kept this focus up and I came away more settled than when I had arrived. I was lucky to have a strong sitting partner staying with me at the time (Karin from Belgium), which helped me to keep my own practice strong. Jeff kindly made himself available for morning and evening one-on-one interviews and, along with Fusako, for sightseeing and dinners out and at home. Jeff’s depth of knowledge of Zen and his clarity, along with his skill as a teacher, were enormously helpful to me. I wholeheartedly recommend a stay at Rokoan to any serious Zen practitioner of whatever tradition. Jeff’s clear eye and his capacity to make use of it in helping others (in this case me) is something I will always treasure and hope to experience again sometime soon.
Jeff W (age 60), Australia
Jeff W (age 60), Australia
