When I first came to practice Zen meditation, I didn’t really know what I was looking for….just not this…I had a lot of questions, wondering, Is this all there is to life? There was a constant feeling that there must be more than what I was experiencing. I didn’t want things to be the way they were, and this created a lot of inner turmoil—suffering, really.
At first, sitting in silence with my thoughts felt impossible. The distractions in my mind were endless. My legs would go numb, and my thoughts would race, pulling me in a hundred different directions. At times, I found myself longing for the time keeper to ring the bell.
I was given a breath practice this gave me a point of focus, a simple anchor that helped build my concentration and calm my mind. I started to let what was arising be. I could soften my grip on the breath itself. I began to turn my awareness inward. I started to ask myself, Can I find where a thought begins or ends? What is the nature of these thoughts? Over time, I began to notice that the thoughts I identified with weren’t as solid as I once believed. They would arise and fade, like clouds passing through the sky, if left alone would ‘vanish like snowflakes on warm ground’.
Beneath, behind, beyond these thoughts, feelings, sensations that arise was a perception of space .Space, vast, boundless. It wasn’t a ‘thing’ I could hold onto, yet present.
Present awareness.
In the beginning, I didn’t have trust in myself, but I trusted my teacher. Her guidance and acceptance gave me great support, and knowing she had walked, and still walks ,this path helped me navigate my own doubts.
The sangha, the community of practitioners, a communal practice of individual deep inquiry, also played an essential role, knowing that we were all practicing together, supporting one another in our journeys. A sense of being held by this container, and together as this container. Trust grew through self-acceptance and by opening my heart/mind to the interconnectedness of all things. When we hide our difficulties, we create barriers that create a sense of separation with others. Taking refuge in the Sangha invited me to soften and let go of my defences, fostering connections and a deeper sense of understanding.
Practicing with the sangha hasn’t always been smooth. Over the years, I’ve faced moments of disconnection and uncertainty, but even during those times, it has been a constant support. Life/practice isn’t linear; through life’s changes, relationship challenges, motherhood, career shifts it can be messy and imperfect.
My intention with Wholehearted Sangha’s is not just about growing the group, but creating a space where everyone feels safe to be and be supported in their journey. We endeavour to show up for each other with sincerity and authenticity and keep practicing together. We all nurture the shared space, one body.
Wholehearted Zen sangha 