Zen pilgrimage walk: The endless end

Earlier this summer I did a 4-week pilgrimage walk through the country as a Zen monk – carrying no money, just living from my alms bowl. So far I've written a number of articles about the walk (including why I would even do such a thing, the pain in my feet, and how I lived from the bowl on people's generosity, and sleeping rough).

The destination for my walk was a hill in the east of Lancashire, near the town of Burnley, called Pendle Hill. 

Pendle Hill as I approached it

Why Pendle Hill?

I am British, born and raised, but I practice on a path that originated in India and has been refined through the centuries in Japan. I took ordination in the Zen tradition and donned the robes of an Unsui (novice) monk. Walking up the country, I was a curious site: white British, but wearing a distinctly Japanese outfit, practising a "foreign" religion.

Pendle Hill is an important place in a home-grown British spiritual tradition – Quakerism. It was the place where it's founder, George Fox, had a great "opening" or revelation back in 1652. He described his vision on the hilltop :

As we travelled, we came near a very great hill, called Pendle Hill, and I was moved of the Lord to go up to the top of it; which I did with difficulty, it was so very steep and high. When I was come to the top, I saw the sea bordering upon Lancashire. From the top of this hill the Lord let me see in what places he had a great people to be gathered.
    — George Fox: An Autobiography, Chapter 6

Quakers

Fox initially just wanted to transform the existing Christian structures in England to a more accurate following of Christ. For this, he and his followers were persecuted by Cromwell's Puritan government and then the "restored" Charles II Catholics. Fox argued, based on the teachings of Peter (Acts 2 & 3), for an egalitarian, spirit-filled Christianity that would not be oppressive of people on account of race, sex, or class. By 1655 a national Quaker organisation had been founded.

Although Quakers have their roots in Christianity, they value the teachings and insights of other faiths and traditions, making them a very egalitarian and accepting group. They strongly believe that faith is lived through action, which is lived out through their social and political engagement to building a more just and peaceful world.

Quaker worship (called 'meeting for worship') normally lasts for an hour. They sit in stillness and quiet, listening and reflecting, looking for a sense of connection with those around, with themselves, and with God. During worship people may feel sufficiently moved to get up and speak, pray or read aloud. This is called "ministry", and can be done by anyone in the meeting. There are no priests, preachers, songs, set prayers or talks, and the table in the middle of the meeting circle often has the Bible, maybe the Qur'an, and a book called "Quaker faith & practice" – a collection of writing and experiences of Quakers from their 350-year history.

Over the years, Quakerism spread out through the world – notably into North America. Pennsylvania was actually established in 1681 by a Quaker. Here in England Cadbury's, Terry's, Fry's, Rowntree, Lloyds Banking Group, Barclays, and Clarks shoes were all set up by Quakers (although I'm not sure all these companies still operate with Quaker morals...)

So not only are the Quakers a British home-grown spiritual organisation, they are also very Zen-like. They practice by sitting in silence, sensing their connection with others and the world, and they put a big emphasis on living their faith (in Zen the phrase is do-zen, meaning "moving/acting Zen").

This made Pendle Hill a very appropriate place to end my own pilgrimage and connect what I was doing back to my own spiritual culture.

The endless end

At about 6pm on Thursday 6th August I got to the top of the hill, accompanied by a dear friend Kim Bennett. It was quite a climb, but totally worth it! They sky was blue with scattered fluffy white clouds, and you could certainly see "the sea bordering upon Lancashire".

It felt wonderful to be up there. Exhilarating!

We sat on the edge of the hill and did 30mins of zazen (sitting meditation) together. I could feel the earth, the history, and the moment vibrating up through me.

Did it feel like the end? No it didn't. I'd spent so many hours and footsteps over the previous weeks focussing on just being in the present moment – allowing the sensations, the experiences, the people to come and go – that this was just another moment. I was here... then I would come down the hill, come back down south, and get on with the rest of my life. It was an endless end. Just another event in the tapestry of life.

Sean's inspiring poem

Somewhere along my journey, another dear friend, Sean Collins, gave me this beautiful poem which I wanted to share with you. My monks name was Kuren.

Kuren
All the practice you have had
When sitting on you Zafu pad
A Buddha balanced on your rear
Aware of what you see or hear
Present with what you love or fear
Who are you?

Draw your sword and slice the bonds
That tie you to, or keep you from
The lessons that await you
Ancestors who create you
Those people who may hate you
Who are you?

Get up,
wake up
and walk to meet
the road that falls beneath your feet
in sun, wind, rain or sleet
Who are you?
Kensho!!!

(Kensho means seeing your own true nature)

All of life is a pilgrimage

Near the end of my walk someone pulled over in their car and offered me a lift. I couldn’t accept, but after talking for a while he said he thought we are all on our own kind of pilgrimage. I think he was right – life is like a long pilgrimage and we're all walking on our own path.

I am a member of the Zenways sangha led by Zen master Daizan Roshi, and I teach meditation, mindfulness and yoga at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell, London. See my website for further details.

I'd love to hear from you

Do you feel like you're on your own pilgrimage of life? Leave a comment below, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

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Zen pilgrimage walk: Sleeping rough

Earlier this summer I did a 4-week pilgrimage walk through the country as a Zen monk – carrying no money, just living from my alms bowl. So far I've written a number of articles about the walk (including why I would even do such a thing, the pain in my feet, and how I lived from the bowl on people's generosity).

In this post I'd like to share a little bit about the nights when I didn't have anywhere planned to stay.

The route for my journey was organised around people and places I wanted to visit. But I didn't have a bed lined up for every night. The other nights I had to have to find shelter for myself.

I've done some wild camping in my time, both here and abroad – but that was always with a tent. On this trip I took only a sleeping bag and a roll mat so on those nights I didn't have a bed, I had to find somewhere under-cover to protect myself from the elements.

The first rough night

The Post Office sorting office in Fordingbridge

The first night I slept rough, I ended up in a lovely small town called Fordingbridge in Hampshire. That evening I limped into town with my feet hurting to such a degree that I couldn't spend ages searching around for a place. After a short recce up the high street I spotted a covered porch outside the post office building. Actually it was a sorting office and parcel collection place, and the front of the building had a ramp up to the porch with a door in the corner that looked very unused. There were cobwebs all over it. It was ideal – a good roof, mostly hidden from the road, and not too dirty.

As I unrolled my mat and sleeping bag, I took note that the office opened at 6am, so I set my alarm for 5:15 to make sure I was up and out of there – just in case.

The town quietened down by about 9:30-10pm, with only the occasional car carrying it's driver up to the chippie round the corner. It was strange to hear the road so loudly as I was dropping off, and I think I remained quite vigilant to being noticed for quite some time. Eventually I fell asleep.

I woke up with the alarm. Just as I was rolling up my mat at about 5:45 the door in the porch started to unlock. Shit... I was convinced they're going to shoo me away and report me to the police! But so what if they did? – that would just be part to the pilgrimage. But I didn't think like that at the time.

So the door opened and out leaned a postie. "Do you want a cup of tea?" he asked. I was blown away! "That'll get you warmed up for the day!" he continued. Wow! So I sat there drinking my tea in a warm glow of incredulity and gratefulness to the kind postman.

That's how it continued really! I slept in someone's garage, under some scaffold, in the awning of a disused cafe, in a church doorway. I never had any major problems finding shelter.

The night of the Waitrose bridge

One evening I was walking into Newbury. On these days where I knew I didn't know where didn't know where I was going to sleep, the anxieties usually started arising at about 3-4pm when I still had a few hours walking to go. First would come the (re-)realisation that I didn't know where I was going to sleep that night. Then would come the thoughts – could I sleep in that bus stop if I had to? What if I was in deep suburbia and there was nothing but rows of houses? Where would I find then? That place looks good, but I can't stop now, it's too early. What if I can't find anywhere? Etc, etc.

Walking into Newbury I remember checking out some hedgerows, and some emergency stairs at the back of an office block. Them, as I was walking past a brand new Waitrose I noticed they had a delivery entrance on the other side of a short bridge. I surreptitiously snuck through some undergrowth to have a look under the bridge and happily found a nice bit of fairly clean, flat concrete between two pillars. I unrolled my mat as you can see in the photo.

A while later as I was in my sleeping bag, just nodding off, a couple of homeless people brushed past. I pulled up my head and the lady said "alright mate, we won't be long." They went round the corner and proceeded to have a blazing argument with lots of effing and blinding. This was the only time on the walk where I really felt vulnerable. Should I leave? It would take me at least 15mins to get dressed and pack up my stuff, and it would be very obvious to them what I was doing. I decided to just keep my head down. To them I was probably just another homeless guy – why should they bother me? And they said they wouldn't be long...

The argument continued for some time – but they did leave eventually. It was a strange feeling to drop off to sleep in that situation. I kept telling myself to relax, and whatever was going to happen would happen. Trust in the universe! I had an alright nights sleep in the end. The canal my route was
following was only 30secs walk away and it was a beautiful morning.

The night of the Church Doorway

Later on in the walk, I was looking for a place to kip in Balsover, Derbyshire. After some time looking around the edges of the town, I spotted a church doorway. I'd often stopped in church porches for breaks or to shelter from the rain, so when I saw this doorway I felt compelled to investigate!

As I approached, an older couple came out of an adjacent doorway of the church. I had to explain myself: "I'm a Zen monk... Would you be ok if I slept in this doorway?" They weren't exactly encouraging, but said it would be fine – as long as I didn't do any graffiti or get caught by the police.

What I learned

Before this walk I'd never slept rough. Granted when I was on my walk it was summer, and the nights weren't too cold, but I found it a surprisingly comfortable and very liberating experience. By the end of the walk I had quite a good eye for spots to shelter in – both in the town and out. My absolute ideal place to sleep would've been a barn full of hay. I actually found one once, but sadly it was the middle of the day at the time. Only once did I feel slightly vulnerable, but that was just my anxiety towards strangers. I should've just got up and had a chat to them.

I am a member of the Zenways sangha led by Zen master Daizan Roshi, and I teach meditation, mindfulness and yoga at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell, London. See my website for further details.

I'd love to hear from you

Ever had a similar experience? Leave a comment below, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

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Wedding zen

On 19th September I got married. As you can imagine (or as you may remember from your own big day) the wedding was quite a roller-coaster-ride of events and feelings. In this article, I'm not going to mention the months of planning, decisions, discussions, and bookings. I'm also not going to mention the jittery, energy-filled week preceding the big day, or the plans for how to get various members of the family to the wedding venue on time.

What I'd like to discuss is how the day itself went, how I felt, and in particular how I think my yoga and meditation practice affected things.

"The day"

On "the day" my alarm went at 6:30am and I straight away sat on the floor of the hotel room for 30mins meditation. I remember feeling quite calm and trying to stay present with my attention in my belly, whilst being aware of my room-mate (a good friend of my mum's who had also come from Sweden for the wedding) moving about and using the bathroom. I was actually quite surprised that I was this calm! This friend was desperate to visit Stonehenge (not far from the hotel in Salisbury where we were), and this morning was our only option since we were too late the night before. So after I'd finished the meditation we had a quick breakfast and headed out.

Stonehenge

Me at Stonehenge on the morning of my wedding

Getting out of the car in the visitors car park, the cool freshness of the air hit us. Neither of us had worn enough. After watching the stones silently appearing out of the mist as we approached, we then spent a wonderful half-hour circling the henge, taking photos, and drinking in the stillness of the 5000yr old monument.

I'm sure it was a fairly unorthodox way of starting a wedding day, but in hindsight it worked out really well! Out of town, and away from any stressing family!

My practice has taught me how to stay focussed on the moment in hand. I was able to be present at Stonehenge, feeling the atmosphere, whilst not letting my mind wander onto thoughts of the wedding.

Venue preparations

We got back to the hotel at about 11am. Over the next few hours things began to ramp up in both external activity and internal activity (in my belly)! We started moving stuff over to the venue from about 12:30 and all the preparations and decorating had to be done between 1 and 3pm, with guests due to arrive at 3:30 for a 4pm start.

Strangely enough, I found putting on my suit really helped me stay relaxed (see my previous article on the widsom of specific clothes). Once I'd got my shirt on I didn't want to sweat (miraculously it was a lovely sunny day), and wearing the suit and nice shoes brought with it a feeling of elegance. I found that walking and moving slowly with an intention of grace (whether or not that translated into a look of grace) really helped keep things calm. Purposefully talking slowly and calmly also really helped. It was hard though, and required attention to keep things slow.

Preparing the wedding venue

When I arrived at the venue, I found them still setting out the dinner tables All the stuff we'd hired (linen, crockery, cutlery, glasses, etc) was piled together, unlabelled in a back room. The flowers and decorations were still on their way, and people started asking me what they could do to help...

It was around about this time that I became extra-aware of my belly. Notably the churning, mildly nauseous feelings deep down in my abdomen. I worked on simply accepting their presence, and continuing to do my best to walk slowly, speak quietly and slowly, and being (or attempting to be) graceful.

When we found out that they'd missed off dinner plates from the hire list, my tummy took a fairly significant somersault. But I think this is really where the years of practice started to make a difference. I felt very little sense of panic, and only a slight rising of anxiety. I was acutely aware of my churning belly, which I think helped to keep my attention low in my body and therefore out of my head. I remember feeling sure there was a solution to the problem – and indeed one presented itself fairly quickly. The venue themselves kindly lent us their plates.

The ceremony and later into the evening

Over the last few years I've developed a habit of internally checking every now and then "am I in my hara". What I mean is: is my hara relaxed, and do I have some component of my attention resting in my hara? Experience has shown this to be particularly useful in stressful times, as, when I do check, I often find my belly tense and energy up in my head.

So regularly during the wedding ceremony and all through the evening I was asking myself "am I in my hara?" – purposefully softening and relaxing my belly, and asking myself what feelings are churning around. Every time I went to the loo, that was also a great time to stop, tune in, and purposefully settle, relax and let go (excuse the pun).

I guess you could say I did regular mini-meditations or body scans. This seemed absolutely essential.

The Zen candle ceremony, representing the coming together of our spiritual paths 

I don't think the practice necessarily makes you feel calmer – because you're more aware and sensitive to all that is going on – but it does give you the tools to simply observe without getting caught up in the whirlwind. It allowed me to appreciate the moments, the feelings, emotions, interactions, and the beauty and love of the day in a way that I don't think I could have otherwise. It's about noticing the discomfort in the belly, the stress and rising energy, and being OK with it, softening and allowing.

Before the wedding, friends said to me the day would flash by. But that's not how I experienced it. Sure it went quickly – there was lots to do and lots happening – but my ability to stay in the present moment (developed over years of practice) meant I could appreciate and savour the moments and people that were there sharing it with us.

It was the most amazing day, and I love my new wife very much. Thanks to all who came, helped out, and shared the celebrations with us.

I am a member of the Zenways sangha led by Zen master Daizan Roshi, and I teach meditation, mindfulness and yoga at the ZenYoga studio in Camberwell, London. See my website for further details.

I'd love to hear from you

How do you remember your wedding day? How has your practice has helped in a stressful situation? Leave a comment below, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

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