The theme of our practice period suggested by Junka Ken is “Committed Lay Practice” - practicing deeply in the middle of the lives we have. Not feeling like our practice in our busy lives is somehow less than if we had the life circumstances to join the few who practice at monasteries or residential Zen centers.
I was taking a look at the text for his class which is commentaries by Thich Nhat Hanh on the famous Vimalakirti Sutra - a long story about a great lay practitioner called Vimalakirti, and also a commentary on another sutra I’d never heard of that he calls the Ugrapariprccha Sutra.
The later one turns out to be a chapter from a longer sutra called the Maharatnakutra Sutra which did sound vaguely familiar and turns out to be a kind of collection of minor Mahayana Sutras including a wonderful one I love called the Lion’s Roar of Queen Shrimala - one of the few sutras that focuses on a woman teaching the Dharma.
In the short sutra chapter-as-sutra Thay chose a serious lay practitioner named Urga is having a dialog with the Buddha about how lay practitioners and monastics should practice. At the risk of stealing a little of Ken’s thunder I thought that at the first morning of our first Sansui-ji sesshin it would good to hear a little of what the Buddha teaches about this.
I actually think we’re both lay and monastic. And probably not completely either one. Some new hybrid that we’re part of a Western experiment about. Regular lay people in traditional Buddhist cultures wouldn’t usually sit for days like this, that’s the practice of monastics, we are doing that, and yet monastics are truly full time possessionless mendicants and we aren’t doing that. So we have a wonderful creative challenge of being both but also being neither.
It’s especially confusing for those of us who “ordain” and it’s hard when you think about the majority of the Buddhist tradition not to put the air quotes on “ordain” because for us it’s more of a symbolic act. When I ordained in 2000 I didn’t give away my possessions and start living in a monastery and I’m married which has been the norm for monastics for millennia. I’m glad that when Raizelah ordains on Sunday she won’t either, but she will go be a temporary monastic for two months at Green Gulch Farm Zen Center in California. And she did do a great act of renunciation yesterday which is the kind of practice monastics do.
So we know some of the ways we’re doing some version or other of monastic-lite but I don’t know if we know all that much about being serious lay practitioners from a traditional Buddhist perspective, so I’m glad Ken’s bringing up the question of whether we’re understanding the power of the lay practice half of our hybrid lineage.
This fits a curiosity I’ve had for some years now about the devotional aspects of our practice. And that’s part of why I was digging into our prayer for Kanzeon, the Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo - it’s not a sutra, it doesn’t teach anything at all really, it’s a prayer and an invitation to call on Buddha and Kanzeon and deeply understand that we are expressions of Buddha practice, or Kanzeon practice. Of wisdom and compassion. And to remember that day and night, day and night.
It seems to me it will serve us well to study how to be serious lay practitioners not only practice when we can as a temporary monastics. How do serious lay practitioners practice at home and at work? Our hybrid tradition has a both-and quality to it that we can enjoy and deepen into. That we can celebrate. We get to do it all in a certain way! And it’s radically confusing in a certain way too which we can also celebrate.
Anyway in this short sutra on the dialog between Buddha and the layman Urga the Buddha starts his description of committed lay practice by talking about the 3 refuges. We took those last night and again this morning. (And don’t worry Ken if you were going to be saying exactly this stuff on Monday night it bears repeating, and repeating, and repeating and you’ll talk about it in your own way and we’ll hear it with Monday’s ears as the people we’ll be then.)
[read p 23-25]
And another wonderful way to practice is through inspiration. To be inspired by the insight and commitment of other practitioners, so I want to share this morning about a deeply committed lay practitioner I’ve had the honor to practice with.
In about 2016 or so I got a message from the Willows Retirement Community - it’s just to the right of St Joe’s medical center. There was a class being offered to the residents on eastern spiritualities and would i come speak a little about Buddhism. Something like that.
So I did that. And while there i also talked about the secular style of mindfulness practice. The non profit I started, Mindfulness Northwest, was growing fast and was a huge part of my life at the time.
And so it was arranged that I would go back and offer a 4, or maybe 6, week class on mindfulness. I made a little manual and we did a variety of practices: formal meditations and suggestions for practice in the middle of the days. Plenty of discussion and exploration. It went well.
And out of that a practice group was born. I don’t think it’s ever had a name beyond the “meditation group”. I think they met weekly for a while but then decided twice a month was more realistic. And I started come to visit every month or so. If I was there I’d lead meditation and discussion and see. how they were doing. When I wasn’t they’d have rotating facilitators and listen to meditation recordings.
One of the leaders of the group and someone I soon was really taking to meditation and seeing ways to apply it in her life was a woman in her early 90’s named Maggie. After a while I discovered that she was Maggie Weisberg, the mother of an acquaintance of mine: Saul Weisberg who started the North Cascades Institute. And there was another kind of only-in-Bellingham connection in there: one of my first years in town in the early 90’s I taught pre-school at the University and Saul and his wife Shelly’s 3-year-old was in my class.
So I’ve known 3 generations in that family and even though I didn’t really know them - I’m not a friend of family who’s invited over on holidays or something, but this karmic affinity is there - I felt a real sense of connection. Of affinity - one of the translations of “en” in the Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo - that word for secondary cause that’s so hard to translate Enmei Jukku Kannon Gyo - SōtōZen.net
Anyway Maggie was just right away a steady practitioner. Making time to sit pretty much daily and making a steady effort to see her life, her stresses, her challenges, and her joys through the lens of practice. She never came to the Zen center but only worked in the mindfulness style I offer through Mindfulness Northwest. With almost all of her practice right there at the Willows in her apartment on her own and in twice a month group. She and her son Saul and his wife Shelley did come to a one day retreat I offered one time, I remember that, and she was also a regular at drop in practices we offer through Zoom with Mindfulness Northwest but mostly she sat on her own and with the group that emerged at her community.
The group has kept going to this day and I’ve kept supporting them with monthly visits until just recently.
And often when I’d go it’d be Maggie sharing how she’s using the insights of practice. That being in her breathing helped her at the doctor. That when faced with the frustrations of aging she was able to reminder herself of the things she can do when the mind gets over focussed on the things she can’t do anymore. That something from her past that she regretted had come up strongly and she was practicing seeing what had happened more clearly, taking responsibility for her part, and letting go of the tension around it that she now say she’d be carrying.
In this last example I remember we had a little argument. I said, to be reassuring I guess really, something like “well you were doing your best back then” and she shot back, “no, I don’t think I was doing my best but I’m working on forgiving myself.” A good teaching for me as a teacher: just reassuring someone isn’t always offering the wisdom of the Dharma - sometimes quite the opposite.
One time she wrote this little essay which we published in the Mindfulness Northwest newsletter:
A few weeks ago, I decided to meditate outside, on my deck. It was a beautiful day, a slight breeze rustling through the trees, birds twittering, sky a startling blue, with no clouds. As I was adjusting myself in the special seat I had prepared, with the pillow just in the right place supporting my back, focusing on my breathing, I was startled by loud, terrible noises. I had somehow forgotten the major construction going on next door, where Peace Health is building a parking garage, and enlarging a wing of the Hospital. Apparently lunch hour was over, and everyone was back at work: Jackhammers digging, trucks roaring, beeping as they backed up, hammers banging, cranes dumping loads of concrete. I was furious — filled with righteous anger. How am I supposed to meditate with this awful noise. It’s not fair! They’re ruining this beautiful day, etc.etc. I kept fuming, trying to ignore the noise, and concentrate on my breath.
Somehow, a phrase came to mind: “make everything the path”. It was suddenly clear that the only thing I had was this moment, and this moment was noise, and it didn’t matter if I liked it or not this is what was here —right now, — how was I going to live this moment? I could continue to stew and try to meditate anyway. I could go inside and close the windows so the noise was muted. I could meditate later when they stopped working. But I didn’t want any of these — I recognized I just wanted to be mad… I had a right to be mad! And then I got curious. Was it possible not to be mad. Was it possible to accept the noise — to allow it to be— to let it become part of me —to just listen without judging — to just be there with the noise. Something shifted. I began to distinguish different sounds: to really hear the roaring, the swishing, the beeping, the banging, scraping, screeching, plopping — a whole orchestra of sound. And I could still hear the birds, and the wind, and be acutely aware of the blue sky. And in sinking into the listening, and breathing and being, I could feel my forehead relaxing, my jaw unclenching, my shoulders lowering, my toes uncurling. I was actually smiling at how right — how good everything felt. I The longer I listened, the more the noise became just another kind of sound, as natural as a waterfall, a woodpecker, pouring rain. These were the sounds of humanity: men and women doing important, needed work, glad to have good paying jobs to support their families.
I sat my usual 30 minutes, focusing on the sounds, not analyzing or identifying them, just listening, amused and amazed at the sheer variety of tone and texture. I felt powerful and peaceful and alive.
I often meditate outside now. Sometimes there’s noise, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s people talking, or dogs barking; sometimes it’s absolutely silent — a different challenge to accept. There is so much to experience…
The insights she shared really helped the others in the group see how to apply and appreciate the practice - far more than anything I could say as someone not in the middle of late in life aging.
I don’t know Maggie’s biography particularly. I don’t know if she had a career or where she lived before Bellingham. New York roots are likely listening to her accent. I know she had a long marriage and, like many woman who life longer lives, she outlived him by a 2 or 3 decades. I remember her talking about the process she had to go through to shift her relationships with her children, and grandchildren, and recently her great grandchildren - shifting to being more spacious, kind and non-controlling, letting go of advice giving. She definitely started with some of the imprinting of the stereotypical Jewish mother it sounded like. Our Edie Norton went through a similar journey with her children.
I’ve appreciated everyone who’s come to the Willows meditation group. They are sincere, interested, and intelligent people. Mostly women and mostly in their 80’s and into their 90’s. It’s been a joy to go there, sitting in a circle with them with their walkers parked at the door doing the practice. Sometimes I think a good number do snooze during meditation but that’s okay. There’s always some gem I go away with at the end of my visit.
And through the decade I’ve been going they’ve all been aging as have I. At 59 I don’t feel quite as young when I walk into the Willows than I did at 49. But am young to them for sure. And I’ve learned so much from them about aging gracefully and the physical and mental challenges of our later years.
Regrets are one thing that challenge them and they particularly loved a meditation I brought them. So much so that the key phrases in it have become the group’s motto. I’ll share a 10 minute version of that with with you:
[10 minute Pam Erdman self acceptance meditation]
We’ve lost people in the group over the years. Some of the members have had their health shift to where they have to be in a nursing home with more services - you have to be able to still live fairly independently to be at the Willows - and some of the members have died. That’s a part of it. We all know that we’ll loose all of those whom we love eventually. There it’s not so “eventually.”
I was kind of thrilled a year and a half ago when Maggie turned 100 and was still going strong. She couldn’t do everything she used to but she could still get around with her walker. Didn’t have much pain. Was able to get out and see her family and enjoy the community at the Willows.
I did get a call from her daughter in law soon after that when she had a brief health scare. And I knew she’d decided to switch at that point to being on hospice care. Only palliate treatment for whatever the next health thing would be.
And she seemed always so present. Vibrant. Alive.
And I can’t know how much of that is her particular karma and trajectory, her good circumstances with a supportive loving living family, that that Willows is a pretty great place actually, and how much was her decade of steady meditation practice starting in her early 90’s.
And on Monday I got an email from her son Saul. Here is what it said:
Our mother, Maggie Weisberg, passed away peacefully with her family at her side on Saturday, September 20, 2025, in her apartment at The Willows in Bellingham WA. She was 101 years old – awake, alert and aware to the end. Maggie was grateful that M.A.I.D (Medical Assistance in Dying) is available in Washington State, giving her the opportunity to choose when, where and how she would die. https://endoflifewa.org/ Maggie wanted to share some personal reflections (attached PDF) about the last months of her life with her family and friends. We’re working on an extended obituary and will send a link when that is completed. Thank you for being part of Maggie’s community.
And here are Maggie’s end of life reflections:
End of Life Reflections
Maggie Weisberg
2/24/1924 – 9/20/2025
It’s been final for some time now: Saturday, September 20, 2025. The date of my
death. My choice.
I am relieved, calm, content. It feels right. I can’t say why I feel so clear about this
– how I know this is the time. It seems obvious. I’ve had a long, meaningful life,
with love and passion, sadness and joy, idealism and disillusion. I’ve known good
people, been part of a caring community, a wonderful family. I’m proud of how I
lived my life, what I believed and what I tried to do. Many things didn’t succeed,
and I made many mistakes. I’ve forgiven myself for not being perfect. I can finally
allow myself to just be me.
Close to death, I feel very alive. I observe and reflect on large and small things.
Curious, amazed, overwhelmed: coming to terms with being human. Where did we
come from? How did we get so wonderful? How did we get so terrible? How did
we survive? (How did I survive?). How will we get through this horrible time of
Trump, Gaza, climate change, environmental catastrophe....?
I believe in human beings: ordinary people all over the world – loving each other,
raising children, mostly doing no harm – living together with reasonable
understanding and compassion, and disagreeing without killing each other. They
are here in my small world: friends and family – each a speck, part of the universe,
changing it in ways I can’t imagine. When the time is right, ordinary people do
extraordinary things.
To my surprise, old age has been calmer, more interesting, more fun, than I ever
imagined. All the important life decisions have been made: marriage, friends,
children, career, ideologies. There are very few things I have to do. I do what I
enjoy: talk with family and friends, meditate, read, reflect, do improv, watch
movies. I feel strangely content, safe and at ease.
My job now is to know myself, to cherish being alive, to accept my place in this
vastness. I examine my life not to analyze or judge, not to second guess choices,
but to be open, vulnerable and honest with myself. I see different parts of my life
falling into place like a giant puzzle: judgements, mistakes and times of despair,
mixed with times of joy and new understanding. And I am still finding missing
pieces, some that surprise and delight, some that make me cringe.
I am finally learning what it means to be present – to pay attention. Focusing on
who I am right now – what’s here right now, has become a habit, and I’m
constantly surprised to see how this works. It’s a quiet way to be – conscious of
myself and at the same time detached. I observe myself from the outside, unique
and alone, yet extraordinarily aware and connected.
I’m grateful for the mysterious turns and twists of life that brought me here, with
this family, these friends, this apartment, this piece of the world. It has been
wonderful to have had these many years to see my kids, grandkids and great-
grandkids grow up – to get to know and appreciate each of them. I know they will
take care of each other, and the earth, as best they can.
There is no place I’d rather be right now: sitting in this chair, conscious of the
people I love and who love me, aware of the cactus on the windowsill, pictures on
the wall, a slight breeze cools my feet, a quiet sunset begins to paint the sky.
Maggie Weisberg
Thank you, Maggie, for your teachings and the privilege of practicing with you. She would never say that she took refuge in Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha but I think she absolutely did live that way.
May we all pay attention to the powerful lay practitioners in our lives. Whether they are formal students of Zen or not, whether they practice meditation or not. Bodhisattvas are everywhere, it’s on us to notice, learn, and grow with them and receive their teachings.
