Fortune cookie

Y. was back in the zendo today. As before, he made a grand entrance that eliminated the Robe Chant. But this time he had with him some sort of companion. It was X., a young woman who had also come to the dinner last Friday night. At the time I thought, "Oh, he brought his girlfriend," but I didn't think much more of it. But this time she entered with him and sort of dogged his heels, as if she were his attendant. I knew that high-ranking monks at Tassajara had attendants but I'd never seen anything like it at Hartford Street.

I should probably make clear that Hartford Street Zen Center is the queer zen center in San Francisco; it's half a block from Castro Street; it was founded by a former drag queen/party boy-turned-zen monk. And I say that not because I think it's wrong for a straight guy to be the practice leader or even to bring his girlfriend, but if he's going to be an arrogant, passive-aggressive straight man whose girlfriend is his attendant, he's going to seem a little out of place.

So he did all his prostrations and sat down. Silence in the place. There was quite a crowd: all four residents were there, along with me, Lucky, and a woman who's on the board, in addition to Andy Capp and Wilma. Silence for a good thirty minutes -- perhaps a little stiff, but it was okay with me. I was feeling angry at the guy, but I was also thinking, maybe this bozo has been sent here to teach me patience and forebearance. Maybe I need to just chill out. I should give the guy another chance.

Then suddenly I hear the guy's voice. He's decided to throw in a little mini-... Well, I don't know what it was. He spoke some aphorism about how heaven and earth are separated by a "hair's breadth," and added, "Let your mind accord."

I'm sitting there thinking, Let my mind accord?? That's not even a verb.

Then he clammed up and we sat there for the remainder of the period. I reflected on his outburst. The only time I ever heard anyone speak during zazen was when John King announced the death of Philip Whalen. That was appropriate since Whalen was the former roshi of the temple. Compared to the gravity and drama of that morning, Y.'s blatt today was about as significant as a fortune cookie. Then to top it all off, after the service X. paraded out with him -- so pretentious! And they went upstairs and disappeared; down in the zendo the rest of us relaxed and chatted and met the new resident.

It's silly, of course, for me to let myself get so worked up about it. It's no skin off my nose if the guy wants to make nonsense pronouncements. But pretentiousness has always really pushed my buttons. I wonder what everyone else thinks.