When I went to hear a Buddhist Abbott two days ago, I thumbed through the index to his book, to see if my teacher in the same Soto Zen tradition was listed. She studied at the same time as he did, with the same teacher and she also graduated from the same University. They must have known each other pretty well. Yet her name was not there. It felt to me like a kind of erasure. She was a woman in a man's spiritual world, and she broke off and had her own zendo nearby. She keeps getting written out of the history of the surge of meditation practice in my area. Her stories and experience are amazing. But she didn't have the luck to have a student who wanted to be her assistant, and compile her talks into a book, as so many other teachers have had.
At one time, I considered helping her, and offered, but she wasn't willing or ready, and then she moved three hours driving away, and I decided not to take on that challenge of distance and time compounded. I thought and still think she has so much to say about right speech, but instead of guiding her through a manuscript I'm writing this blog. Why? She has slipped cognitively and is unable to organize her thoughts or papers. I could do a biography of her, but again, it would be time consuming and difficult, though her long term memory is in pretty good shape. The short term memory, however, is agonized. It feels like it's much too late to get accurate information from her, and therefore, I'd have to rely entirely on interviews with colleagues and friends. Lots of time and travel. And I'm no spring chicken myself. I'm ten years younger.
So regret arose when I went to the reading, and sadness for my teacher. Perhaps she will have the recognition she deserves, but I won't be a part of it, other than speaking of her to friends. I'll always be grateful for her teachings, and pray for her now that she suffers from confusion and debilitation, but I've given up the idea of rescuing her place in the history of Buddhism in the west.
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