Anzan’s Journey

About 10 years ago, I found Zen. I found myself wanting to deepen my meditation practice in a more serious and committed way. I came to realize that while the small gift shop (Buddha For You) on College Avenue that offered community meditation was an important part of my journey, it could not support that next step. I had many questions but no one could answer them, and I was eager to find ways to calm my pain. Like many who find this practice, I had been through so much, and I knew Buddhism could provide the solace I yearned for. 

And that’s when I met Shinzan.

The first time I met him, I was nervous for reasons I could not explain. I had gone to one of his talks and immediately connected with what he was saying. I felt a powerful draw to him. I had considered not returning because he scared me so much, but then I reminded myself that I was looking for answers, turning away would only take me further from what I was seeking.

There’s a saying, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears,” and I felt it deep down inside, I was ready.

Funny, I originally thought I would practice some form of Theravada Buddhism because I had been captivated with Thai motifs and culture: training Muay Thai had done that. But the more I sat with Shinzan, Joren, Dojin, Mumon, Kaiji, Mushin, Koe, and the sangha, the more Zen resonated within. 

Since then, I’ve been to many retreats, witnessed numerous ceremonies, and traveled to far away Zen centers. I’ve seen many peaks and valleys. I’ve fallen in love with this practice over and over. I’ve watched students be just as confused or eager as I was (still am!). I’ve watched others ask the same questions and commit the same “mistakes,” if I can call them that.

Since then, I’ve learned to be at peace with my life: pain, just as much as joy, is a part of it all. That doesn’t mean I enjoy pain. It means I no longer spend as much energy resisting it, running from it, or wishing reality was different than it is. When pain comes, whether it is disappointment, loss, fear, shame, or uncertainty, I try to meet it directly. I’ve learned that my familial ancestors are always with me and so are the Dharma ancestors too.

In meeting my pain directly, I’ve found that I’m much happier. That is not because life has become easier, but because I’m more present for it. I spend less time trapped in stories about the past or worries about the future and more time experiencing what is actually here. There is a freedom in that.

This practice has also helped me see more clearly that everything is impermanent. Every joy, every sorrow, every success, every failure, every relationship, and this very life is constantly changing. At first, that realization felt unsettling, but over time it became a source of peace. If difficult moments are temporary, I don't need to cling to them. If beautiful moments are temporary, I can appreciate them more fully while they are here. That’s impermanence, and it has taught me gratitude. It has taught me to cherish the people around me, to appreciate ordinary moments, and to meet each day with a little more humility. Things come and go, but being present for them, fully and sincerely, has become one of the greatest gifts of this practice.

So, I’ll keep trusting this practice and I’ll keep pushing. Not just for myself, but for others. Today, I’m a high school English teacher who serves a greater community in Sierra Mesa and beyond. I live about 11 minutes from Open Gate Zen Collective with my beautiful wife, Devon, and our four cats, Onyx, Jade, Sapphire, and Topaz. I’m currently training to be a Zen priest so I can better serve others, and I trust that the universe will place me where I need to be. Thanks to this practice, I’ve noticed a considerable difference in how I show up for people and my life. A special thanks to Shinzan, Joren, Devon, and Dojin, to all those who support me, and the ancestors who have kept this practice alive! My deepest gratitude.

A monk asked a Zen master how long it would take him to achieve enlightenment. The master said, “Ten years.” The monk replied, “What if I try very hard?” The master then replied, “Then twenty years.”

Alberto Anzan Apalategui May 28, 2026