A Momentous Ceremony, a Room Full of Love, and a Grey Rakusu for Jisen

One dark evening, about a year before the pandemic tied us down, a new woman strode in. Her gleaming enthusiasm lit the room. Energized, we soon found it was hard not to be smiling when we were near Paula Saracen. We learned she had recently embraced Buddhism following years of yoga, and our Shinzan as her teacher, having met him a New York Zen Center for Contemplative Care. Most of us gradually move into this practice and may begin by taking an intro class, then a number of meditation evenings before trying, perhaps, a half-day or maybe as much as one day of silence, testing the waters. We challenge ourselves in increments. Not this lovely woman, not Paula. Her first step, in New York, was jumping right into a full week of sesshin (silent retreat) right off the bat. She remarked that she felt she was in trouble immediately after, as in the airport she had to refrain from the impulse to grab and kiss everyone around her. “The magic of sesshin!” she exclaims.

I have had many joys in my life alongside Paula/Jisen as a dear Dharma sister, a true friend. She noticed that I usually took long trips by public transportation to get home. Her immediate offer to drive me launched many scintillating conversations. A few months hence, we enjoyed a parallel journey—an exciting collegiality—traveling together to, through, and from a life-changing pilgrimage to Shinzan’s source in Upaya Zen Center in New Mexico. She has furthered her practice there severally since. Now we’ve shared many years (and so many hugs she gives freely to one and all, always), growing in the Dharma together, supporting one another along the way. She teaches us that a friendship can run stronger, deeper than we imagined, as we experience a long-lasting trust.

I thank her boundless enthusiasm for suggesting my move to my now six-year tenure in the lay Buddhist community where I make my home, benefiting in countless ways.

We know Jisen—her name is ‘Spring of Compassion.’ In her, from her, this is an eternal, ever-abundant flow. We have all had moments when she has emphasized the positive, filled our self-esteem, encouraged. One example of a thousand: a fellow who had gained a lot of weight and was embarrassed. She approached and smiled, “You got a haircut. Looks good. I like shorter hair on you.” Such a seemingly minuscule gesture. But one could see in his face, all over him, how he responded—lifted a bit. Countless more are her daily lifts to every one of us, and to first-time arrivers, as she quite welcomes all with open arms.

Compassion. If you could’ve been along the day she invited me to accompany her on her rounds as an ombudsman. Gleaming in a multi-primary-colored outfit, she strode with purpose, right through and past the mostly uncaring staff. An image of brightness and fun, yet with serious intent. Time stopped as she zeroed in with each individual. Giving her whole attention, replying with the exact resources needed by each, she pledged her reliable follow-up.

Moreover, she brought them up and out. She introduced me to a deeply talented woman, a musician, a gifted piano player who’d wound up having to sleep in her car. The man sitting in the bed next door is a vastly educated man, mostly in the sciences, who’s taught her much as they’ve shared erudite conversations. Making contact on a shared wavelength, she makes them feel that they’re the only, most important person in the world. They’ve been pushed down, flopped in a bed, arrested or otherwise humiliated. Today it’s dignity they get. They get her genuine admiration.

Years march on—so too she—committing more time to various service activities, including months upon months in grueling county work during the pandemic. Now a thousand-plus hours of hospice. She says our practice reinforced the notion that just listening, in silence, often for hours, is all they need. This brings to mind a video of Thich Nhat Hanh where I observed him—all of him—being still, absolute, silent, listening to the one there. We have all felt her touch, witnessed her listening. In more than a decade of activities, she embodies respect for the elderly, a trait sadly so archaic in much of our modern world.

Bodhicitta? She was born with it (oh yes, we all are), but hers springs forth from a deep source—one that’s indomitable, even when she’s down, punished by the exigencies of life. Yes, she tires; she’s human, oh so very human. There’s vulnerability in our Jisen. Yet there’s a glimmer through the tears she has dared to shed with us. Jisen shows us how to live. She can tell us much about how to die.

And now, this day, she was called forth to a ceremony, one-on-one with our Sensei. Now, in his words:

The grey rakusu is a recognition for an Open Gate student who has practiced for over five years after Jukai and has shown dedication and inspiration in their practice. It signifies a "Dharma Guardian," meaning the practitioner can facilitate and host public services when a teacher or shuso is not present, holding the space in the zendo. Jisen has truly demonstrated her commitment and service to the community.
I chose grey to honor my years of practicing Korean Zen, as their samues are grey.

[Note: samue – official Japanese “work” outfit worn originally by monks, now we wear them sometimes as we practice together]

Jose M. Palma
SHINZAN

He led us through a service that included most of our familiar Jukai, taking the precepts once again. Bowing and repeating three times with each, Jisen added to her previous vows—now, as she is today. We all rode with her, every breath, every bow. And then it was time for each, one by one, to briefly go to the essence in voicing our connection with her. Joy and tears abound. As we grow here, in our sangha, in this room, there has been much love—but never more than this day.

In her words:

The grey rakusu represents to me finding my true voice. It represents my growth in confidence, my dedication to my practice and the sangha, and the shedding of past conditioning and habits—revealing underneath the glimmer of my true nature starting to shine through. I was deeply moved by the ceremony. The intimacy and love I could see in the eyes of my teacher and all the sangha members as they spoke such words of kindness to me during the ceremony was deeply moving. I will never forget that special day!

Her magic is simple, yet so rare. With more like her, one at a time, we can cure the world.

- Blair Mushin Whitcomb