The return of Mister Helpful

This morning in the zendo, a noisy fly buzzed around for the first twenty minutes. Something to listen to; I admit I waved it away a few times, when it sounded like it was coming in for a strafing run. I was reminded of something I read where the speaker, a longtime San Francisco Zen Center person, was quoting Reb Anderson, that temple's second white abbot. Anderson reportedly said that the reason people are so annoyed by the ubiquitous insects at Tassajara Mountain Zen Center is that "they think the bugs are optional."

Well, in San Francisco, the bugs pretty much are optional. And I've never heard a housefly buzzing around at 6:00 a.m. But there it was.

Finally, as it grew light outside, the fly went away to the other side of the room where the windows are. Making for the light, it smacked into a window: zzzzzzz-vut! and was heard no more. So much for that distraction.

When the bell rang, I stood up and got to see who else was in the room. "Josh," the nudge, reappeared several days ago, and has cut me a wide berth since returning. (Perhaps he read my weblog where I called him a nudge; that's the only explanation I can think of, hard as it is to believe anyone reads this at all.) He has hardly even looked at me, which suits me fine.

The only people there besides the regulars were this couple who come on Thursdays sometimes. Several weeks ago they got a full, unasked-for orientation from one of the priests -- but he's kind of the senior guy there, so he's got the right. That was before Josh came along at all, so he didn't know these two had already gotten the full spiel. So after the service when we all filed out (or actually just off to the shoes area, on the side), he went up to them and just started in. Stand this way -- hold your hands that way -- hold the sutra book this way -- the bells mean bow this way, et cetera.

I rolled my eyes, but as he went on and on -- the hapless couple humbly enduring it -- I glanced at him while I was putting my shoes on. He was so happy telling these people how to behave. He was still going at it as I left.

The funny thing about this is that later in the morning I read about Natalie Goldberg coming to the Minnesota Zen Center for the first time, how nobody told her what to do, and how that seemed so part of it.

But Hartford Street seems pretty informal about everything, frankly. It's really not strict. I don't know if that's part of the tradition there, or if it reflects the fact that the place seems a bit rudderless without a resident abbot or practice leader. (Kokai, the latest applicant, has vanished, so I guess something didn't work out about her. She seemed okay to me, but what do I know about how the place really runs.)