A short question and answer session with Karen Miller author of the new book Momma Zen
I don't have anything else to compare it to except my life as it is -- but to be precise, becoming a priest was a statement and a reminder of my commitment to my practice. By that I mean the practice of overcoming my ego and serving others. When you take such a visible step, it becomes harder to fool yourself, distract yourself, indulge yourself and cause harm, although I assure you I still do sometimes! Honestly, committing myself to my practice in this way has made everyone in my life much happier, because I don't cause nearly so much trouble as I used to.
I'm sure it has, or rather, I hope it has. I hope it has eased some of the struggle between "my" needs and my daughter's. I say "hope" because it's not something I think about. And not thinking about things really helps ease the struggle. For her part, my daughter wishes her mommy had long hair like I used to. I am more than happy to observe and appreciate her youth and beauty without longing for the way I used to look. And after age 35 or so a big part of life can be longing for what was rather than appreciating what it is. Perhaps that is the real answer: I appreciate my life as a parent, and I appreciate every day of my daughter's life, even the hard days.
First and most important, my husband is immensely loving, supportive and tolerant. I've really taken him for a ride! My priesthood helps me be more accepting of change, and a marriage is all about accepting change -- change in circumstances, feelings, attitudes, ambitions, expectations, and all the ups and downs that ordinary life brings.
That's a good question. Happily, I rarely hear from anyone who isn't. As you know, Buddhists aren't evangelists. We don't try to preach to anyone or convert. So I only share my beliefs with people who ask. And most people who ask are genuinely interested and open-minded. When they aren't, there is no need to talk.
I usually just call myself "Georgia's mom." I may also tell them I am a writer. My life is so normal that there's hardly ever a reason to tell anyone that I am a priest, unless they want me to perform a wedding ceremony!
In our tradition the duties vary according to the life choices of the priest. In other words, at my Center, several of the priests also work (accountants, musicians, teachers etc.) Within the temple organization and administration, there are several training positions that are filled by priests such as being in charge of liturgy and services, supervising the zendo or meditation hall and such. Priests also officiate at daily and other special services and ceremonies.
My life and my practice are one thing. "Practice" is not something special, occurring some other special place, wearing special clothes, chanting special words. Yes, when I do those things it is my practice, but so is making a peanut butter sandwich. My practice is never outside my life and my life is never outside my practice. When you think of them as separate, as we invariably do, we diminish ourselves and we lose many precious moments of being alive, all in the name of "waiting until" we can get to our practice! Being alert and attentive, being completely involved in whatever is happening right now is my life and my practice.
Another good question. First a tip: the question "what if" is a good way to lose focus on the life right in front of you, and I am happy to say that the scenario you describe is not right in front of me. So I can only answer as honestly as possible using my memory and imagination. The answer is "it depends." I would be lying if I said that I would sit in meditation or sing lullabies until the situation righted itself. I might scream instead! The situation you describe is how practice opportunities come to us. It would cause me to really examine how much I "had to be somewhere," how fixated I was on that particular outcome. A lot of the times I have found that those "have tos" are not really things I have to do but things I want to do. So that's the first thing I would look at. If I could change gears and give up on the car trip, I would. If I really had to get somewhere I might try a bribe, if one was at hand, or I might strong arm the rascal kicking and screaming into his seat. I have done all of these things, and when necessary, I have said afterwards, "I'm sorry."
I'd rather give up on vegetables this time than give into a battle. If I make vegetables a weapon, my kid will never make peace with them.
Turn off the TV. Detour around the mall. Curb your own consumer obsessions. Involve and absorb yourself in your child's life. Then, relax and have fun. Don't obsess about your likes, dislikes, preferences and ideologies. Don't make America the enemy. Don't make anything the enemy.
Not at all. LA is a fount of spirituality, both Western and Eastern traditions. I'm no longer pursuing my own self-image, so when I see others trapped that way I only see their suffering.
I think we as parents always see that point--it's just that sometimes we don't have the self-discipline to do difficult things like saying "no," setting boundaries, disappointing our children and handling the consequences of being firm and emphatic. This is when I remember Maezumi Roshi's teaching: "Don't deceive yourself." Discipline is something that we all deceive ourselves about a lot. Either we deceive ourselves by rationalizing being too punitive and harsh or rationalizing being too lax and indulgent. I never want to hit my child, because it doesn't take too much sense to realize that violence creates more violence. But every situation requires that I examine what I as the parent can do differently: using different words, different rules, a different tone, a different setting, or a different tactic in order to see a different outcome. In sum, when I take on discipline as one of my responsibilities, I am being self-disciplined. And a self-disciplined parent produces a self-disciplined child.
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