Cafe At The End Of Time (2)

Kyoto was a fantastic city….beautiful, clean

and outstanding history and character. I was

visiting my friend, Jim, who had moved there

to teach English, had learned Japanese tea

ceremony, and renovated an old Kyoto house

into a traditional tea house. His efforts had been

noticed by the media, and the Urasenke tea

school in which he had been trained moved him

up in rank quickly. Not bad for a gaijin.

Kyoto hadn’t been bombed during the second

world war since it was the cultural heart of Japan.

There were shops that sold only charcoal for

tea ceremony…charcoal that still looked like the

wood it had been made from, but shrunken. There

were tea shops…sake shops with a rainbow of

flavors and prices. We went to an archery range

where Kyudo was practiced in traditional dress by

Japanese businessmen. And we ate the best food of

my life….every day.

Jim wanted me to stay. I couldn’t see it. Jim was

doing what many people who adopt a new country

do….he was trying to become Japanese…it drove

me crazy. Japanese communicate very indirectly…

much is assumed to be known. This makes it very

hard for a foreigner to even understand the culture…

let alone become fluent in it. I guess I was too much

a no-bullshit-American to dig it. But I really enjoyed

sitting in the public baths and watching the sumo

tournament on T.V.. What I got tired of was every

Japanese person I met asking me the same first

question: “Isn’t Japan the best country in the world?”

Well, hate to bother you, but Fukushima happened,

and now Japan is not the best country in the world,

just the most radioactive. 

                                   ****

I went back to the States. I went to live at a

meditation center….staff plumber and water

works operator. I loved the mountains, the aspen

trees, the spaciousness….and the land had been

blessed by great Buddhist teachers…you

could feel it. I’ve been to power spots before,

and this was one. Lots of magic had happened

here….and lots of work.

In 1985, the center had a main building, an office

and a shower house. The kitchen had a four burner

stove and a sink. We had to get the place ready so

that 450 people could live there for three months.

We had ten weeks.  In that time, we built two bath-

houses, a toilet house, a complete commercial kitchen,

tent platforms and tents to accommodate those people.

Plus a circus sized dining tent and platform and a main

tent and platform for the program that would happen.

We completed the work the night before inspection

by Larimer County. The day after that, 450 people

arrived. And those are just the facts.

I remember deciding to take on the job. My teacher

had gone around his Board of Directors to see that

the project got started. I had just obtained my Master

Plumbing license from Colorado. I was pacing around

my house…contemplating what I would do. I stopped.

I decided that I would go for it, make it happen, At that

instant, appearing in the sky before me were the Buddhas

and Bodhisattvas, dakinis, dharma protectors…the whole

schmearcase…and they were applauding. I guess I made

the right decision.

                                         ****

My Buddhist teacher was the only shape shifter I have

ever known. All the time I knew him, how he appeared,

the way taught, his demeanor were all changing….as if

he was making himself up as he went along….which he

was. If you saw him over a period of time, it was

uncanny.  It was like him standing there was already

too much information, All the realized ones I met

were like that. But this one, my teacher…being with

him there was a constant sensation of being dissected

and examined. It was horribly embarrassing….and yet,

I was irrevocably drawn to him….go figure.

                                        ****

What’s the difference between a “click” and a “snap”

when it happens in your head? We say something “clicks”

when we understand something we’ve been thinking

about. We say someone “snaps” when the pressure of

their life gets too great. So it seems that a “click” is an

opening or a connection, while a “snap” seems to be

a short circuit or a separation. 

“Lots of clicking and snapping going on…you can

smell the ozone generated by the sparks…or, at least,

you think you can….the technicians running amok

with their clip boards trying to make sense of the

whole program…time for lunch….informal Western

style…lots of drooling in line as the senses begin to

come back in time to eat…it’s all programmed…ever

since you arrived…you knew what you were getting

into….or, at least, you thought you did. Should you

leave? Do you want to? Don’t you want to see how

it all turns out?”