The Unspoken Thing

February 20 · Teachings · Bonnie Myotai Treace, grief, grieving, Ground Zero, mourning, Myotai Sensei, refuge, September 11, Winter / Spring 2019, zazen

by Bonnie Myotai Treace, Sensei
Originally published in Mountain Record journal: “Practicing the Edge” (2001)

In the space between desire and despair, between holding and letting go; between clinging and release, in this space is the unspoken thing. The thing that lives.
—Lives of the Monster Dogs

I’ve been working over the last few weeks with family members as they make a memorial visit to Ground Zero. The trips begin at the Family Assistance Center on Dock 94, where death certificates are being issued and other support services can be arranged. The Center is very big and very busy. From there we get on a ferry that goes down river to the World Trade Center site. On the water there are gunboats everywhere you look, and on board there is significant security. The wind blows brisk and the river incongruously glistens, and on the way the clergy and mental health workers make what connections they can with the families, offering support or space as needed.

Sangha Reflections on Resilience

October 05 · Beyond Fear of Differences, Reflections · addiction, aging, art, Beyond Fear of Differences, BFoD, disability, equanimity, grief, income inequality, love, Resilience, Summer / Fall 2018, trauma

All the Way to Heaven

February 20 · Essays · grief, Heart Sutra, pain, Prajna Paramita

by Amy Shoko Brown
Originally published in Mountain Record journal: “Death and Renewal” (1993)

For a long time after Michael died I wanted to write but didn’t because somehow it felt like taking advantage of his absence. It was as if in some way Michael was looking over my shoulder and saying, “How could you do this to me?” And now he’s just humming along, looking out the window at the sky most of the time and then at me and he doesn’t even have to read what I write; he just says, “Oh, I didn’t know you felt that way.” And laughs, sometimes pokes me in the ribs, and once while I was writing he cried, “I never knew you felt that way.”