The narrative of an individual’s path to self-discovery often begins with seemingly mundane moments that, in retrospect, reveal profound turning points. For one woman, this journey commenced not in a grand setting, but within the utilitarian confines of the Brooklyn Public Library’s old A/V room. This modest, dimly lit space, a stark contrast to the branch’s otherwise ornate Beaux-Arts architecture, served as the backdrop for a pivotal experience that would later ripple through her life. Today, with extensive renovations transforming the library into a modern cultural hub boasting advanced performance spaces and state-of-the-art technology, the original A/V room’s obscurity is even more pronounced. Yet, for the individual at the center of this unfolding story, its intimate, almost clandestine atmosphere felt perfectly suited for the occasion.
It was within this setting that she and her then-boyfriend watched the classic Marx Brothers film, A Night at the Opera. The choice of movie, a personal suggestion, underscored a romantic mood that permeated the evening. The prolonged harp solo performed by Harpo Marx became a focal point, a moment of pure, timeless beauty that resonated deeply. Wrapped in her lover’s embrace, feeling seen and adored, she described an overwhelming sense of love, a feeling she wished to preserve indefinitely. This idealized vision of love, intertwined with the escapism of the film and the unique ambiance of the old A/V room, cemented itself as a benchmark for romantic fulfillment.
However, the passage of time would reveal the ephemeral nature of this early ideal. Years later, the relationship ended. Reflecting on the breakup, the author describes it as an "inevitable" conclusion, attributing the relationship’s foundation to superficial elements: physical attraction, sexual desire, and a shared fear of solitude. During the relationship, she recounts a period of isolation, where her ex-partner gradually distanced her from her established network of friends and family. This gradual estrangement, she later recognized, was a tactic that left her vulnerable and dependent. The aftermath of the breakup necessitated a period of intense introspection and reconnection with her former support system, a process vital for rediscovering her lost sense of self.
This pattern of relationships forming and dissolving was not an isolated phenomenon. The author observed a mirroring of these romantic dynamics in other spheres of her life. As a child, she had assumed the role of the responsible daughter, often tending to her anxious mother’s emotional needs. This ingrained pattern, she later understood, translated into her professional life, leading to burnout due to a similar tendency to overextend herself. The concept of unconscious habit patterns, or "karma" as it is understood in Buddhist philosophy, began to take shape in her mind. The realization that something fundamental needed to change spurred a quest for solitude and self-discovery.
The Solitude of the Mountains: A Search for Clarity
Seeking refuge and a space for profound introspection, the author retreated to a remote region in France. In this isolated environment, where she knew no one and was unknown, her days were largely defined by solitary mountain walks. This physical journey mirrored an internal one, guided by an inner voice she had carried since childhood – a voice that had offered companionship during solitary play as a young girl. Despite societal conditioning that had taught her to disregard or distrust this inner guidance, it now led her to the quiet woods of this foreign land.
Amidst the tranquil forest, a desire for deep understanding and clarity about the roots of her struggles began to surface. The mountain’s stillness provided fertile ground for this contemplation. Her romantic relationships, she realized, were part of a larger cycle of self-neglect: a tendency to give selflessly, harbor minimal expectations of others, and struggle with boundary setting. The author posits that her understanding of love had become conflated with meeting external conditions and fulfilling the perceived needs of others.
Upon her return to the United States, the author felt a decisive shift. She was no longer willing to diminish herself or suppress her capacity for love to fit into externally imposed societal expectations. The pervasive influence of "Black girl respectability" – a complex set of social codes dictating behavior to gain acceptance and avoid negative consequences – had reached a point of obsolescence. The author’s daily immersions in nature, which she likened to a baptism, became a restorative process, helping her reclaim lost aspects of herself. These mountain walks evoked vivid memories of Jamaica, her birth country, and the innate feeling of peace derived from simply pausing and listening. Her formative experiences with nature, characterized by its dazzling diversity and the inherent belonging of every living thing, had instilled a deep sense of affirmation. This connection to nature served as an intuitive reminder of unconditional acceptance and genuine belonging.
Though still navigating a sense of vulnerability, the author began to reacquaint herself with her true identity and origins. She recognized that this alienation from herself was not a new experience, and she anticipated it might occur again – a phenomenon she later identified as characteristic of codependency. Fortuitously, she possessed an almost primordial awareness of an enduring ancestral voice that, even in moments of confusion, guided her toward an inner truth. Her aspiration was to shed her fears and insecurities and to live authentically from a place of fearlessness. The path forward, though unclear, was understood to be a spiritual journey.
Finding Refuge: The Unexpected Path to Zen Practice
Two years after her breakup, the author took a leave of absence from her demanding work environment to focus on her well-being. The workplace had become increasingly toxic, culminating in a sustained campaign of workplace mobbing that had taken a significant physical toll. While therapy and intense physical workouts provided temporary relief, she recognized the underlying issue as spiritual. Her inherent gentleness and sensitivity, traits undervalued in a harsh world, were not indicators of weakness.
A serendipitous Google search for nearby retreats led her to Blue Cliff Monastery, nestled at the foot of the Catskill Mountains. Unfamiliar with Buddhism or meditation, she nevertheless followed that persistent ancestral voice. The weeklong retreat, specifically designed for people of color, proved to be a revelation. The teachings on the dharma and ritual felt intuitively natural and profoundly meaningful. Her roommates, seasoned practitioners from Brooklyn, became instrumental in her continued journey. At the retreat’s conclusion, inspired to deepen her practice, she sought their recommendation for a local spiritual center. This led her to the Brooklyn Zen Center, which would eventually become her spiritual home.
With the unwavering encouragement of her meditation teachers, the author committed to a regular practice. Daily sittings at home, weekly sessions at the center, and monthly extended silent retreats became integral to her life. Meditation offered a profound sense of refuge and joy, replicating the natural stillness she had experienced in her youth, when unstructured time was spent freely outdoors. A nascent connection formed between this new practitioner and the carefree child running barefoot through nature. The physical acts of prostration, sitting in lotus position on the ground, and going barefoot created a tangible link to her childhood, grounding her physically and emotionally to the earth. This connection facilitated a return to a simpler time and place where ancestral voices were more clearly heard.
Her curiosity about the natural world expanded to encompass an exploration of her own mind. Sitting meditation provided a valuable opportunity to observe her habitual responses to various stimuli. The concept of boredom during meditation, which some found challenging, was for her a welcome respite – a luxurious opportunity to simply be. In discussions with her teachers, she was encouraged to explore what arose during her practice and to cultivate self-care. The directive to "Return to the body" prompted her to identify the physical manifestations of emotions, shifting focus from the "why" of her suffering, which had previously led her down unproductive mental rabbit holes, to the "how" of experiencing present-moment reality. This practice of present-moment awareness became a profound refuge, reminiscent of her childhood experiences.
The author acknowledges that many individuals come to meditation practice carrying significant emotional burdens. She considers herself fortunate to have found a community characterized by sincerity, non-judgment, and profound commitment to her holistic well-being. The community’s dedication to the rigorous study of karma (unconscious habit patterns) and the dharma (the nature of reality) provided a stable and supportive framework. Her process of tending to her pain was interwoven with her study of the bodhisattva precepts, fostering an environment where she was encouraged to be still, heal, take her time, and embrace her authentic self. This profound blessing, she states, is a source of ongoing gratitude.
Much of her pain, she explains, was rooted in societal conditioning related to race and gender. The willingness and capacity of her teachers to engage with these specific challenges on a "dharmic path" were invaluable. Through intensely honest and often painful one-on-one sessions, she learned to confront the origins of her suffering with kindness. Her teachers encouraged vulnerability as a practice of honesty and humility, enabling her to face pride and shame and emerge stronger. Their ultimate aim was her fulfillment and happiness, unburdened by external demands. Together, they embarked on an investigation of life’s complexities, seeking to reconcile with the causes and conditions that shape existence, grounded in the principle of causing no harm, beginning with oneself.
This experience marked the first time she received such unconditional love. In previous relationships, there had often been an underlying expectation or a need for her to conform. Her teachers, however, were willing to delve into the challenging terrain of "America’s racial karma" with the shared goal of collective liberation. The author expresses profound gratitude for their unflinching honesty, respect, patience, and trust. She also values the relational aspect of this work, recognizing that such profound transformation is best achieved collaboratively, meeting fellow humans at eye level in a shared commitment to alleviate suffering.
The Crucible of Relationship: Finding Interconnectedness
The practice of sitting and attending to whatever arose, moment by moment, served to re-establish a connection with her embodied self, a connection that had been fractured by societal conditioning and well-intentioned but misguided advice from authority figures. A life dedicated to Zen practice allowed her to simply exist, to observe her situation without embellishment or judgment.
Working with her teachers provided accountability for her commitment to acknowledge and attend to every feeling, thought, or emotion that surfaced. They encouraged a deep and honest investigation of her more persistent and challenging emotions, fostering a willingness to sit with difficulty and pain with loving awareness. A significant potential outcome of this practice, she notes, is self-compassion. As her teachers frequently reminded her, compassion literally means "being with suffering." The invitation to experiment with this practice, with their supportive presence, proved transformative.
As her capacity to navigate difficult emotions grew, and she found refuge in kindness, the author began taking on practice roles at the Zen center. As greeter, work leader, and head of the meditation hall, she engaged in constant interaction with others. Like herself, these individuals carried their own histories, traumas, neuroses, and complexities.
This period prompted profound questions: What does it truly mean to be present for another’s suffering? How does one tend to pain that arises specifically within relational contexts? And how can this be approached with an understanding of non-separation? Her main teacher kept a stone in the practice discussion room, a symbol of the Zen concept of "not two, not one," as articulated by Shunryu Suzuki Roshi, founder of the San Francisco Zen Center. This duality of being both distinct and interconnected served as a constant reminder.
In her role as Ino (head of the meditation hall), a position of significant visibility and authority, the author was tasked with examining her relationship with power. The Ino plays a crucial role in organizing ceremonies and retreats, serving as a primary leader. In this capacity, she often found herself interacting with individuals who had complex and challenging histories with authority figures. Navigating the inevitable projections of anxieties, resentments, and fears onto her required constant presence – present for her own historical pain and for the experiences of the person before her.
These roles provided further clarity into limiting beliefs and habits that, despite their initial protective functions, no longer served her. They thrust her into a state of relationship with all phenomena, whether perceived as internal or external, self or other. The development of a spacious and flexible mind, responsive to the present unfolding of reality rather than ego-driven conveniences, became paramount. She began to understand the wisdom of establishing and respecting boundaries. Ultimately, she realized that existence is fundamentally relational. Being in relationship meant being present, listening, and acting with honesty. Self-deceptive actions, such as insincere speech or concealing her true intentions, were recognized as prioritizing performance over genuine connection, appearances over authentic presence.
The Embodiment of Love: From Tenderness to Interbeing
Insights into the nature of relationship were significantly informed by the teachings of Vietnamese Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh, particularly his concept of "interbeing." Hanh’s well-known analogy of seeing the tree, the sun, and the logger within a single sheet of paper illustrates this interconnectedness. Early in her practice, the author grasped the profound truth that everything and everyone is connected, and that love is the fundamental force underlying this interconnectedness. This realization was soon followed by an insight into "no birth," a concept that illuminated her profound connection to her mother, ancestors, and descendants. While these profound insights into the dharma underscored the importance of right relationship with all beings, it was a later, more ordinary, and embodied experience that allowed her to truly feel what love is.
Several years into her practice, during a retreat, she found herself quietly weeping. The sensation, difficult to articulate, was eventually recognized as love. She communicated this experience to her teachers and friends in a note: "I couldn’t name the feeling behind the tears. I usually associate tears with pain, but this wasn’t pain. It wasn’t necessarily joy either. Someone asked me if it could be love, and I had to think about it. Yes, they were tears of love. For friends, family, the community, and humanity in general. Because I couldn’t name this feeling, I’ve used the word sadness when trying to describe it. I now realize that’s not true. In trying to describe the feeling, I used sadness as an approximation, but it isn’t sadness at all. I guess the word I’ve heard used that comes closest to describing it is tenderness.”
This journey toward tenderness involved an initial inclination to flee from pain, followed by a profound process of becoming intimately acquainted with it. This intimate engagement with her own pain revealed the fundamental truth that relationship is the very essence of existence. This insight into relationship fostered a deep sense of gratitude for all beings who, in a very real sense, constituted her existence. Trusting herself to the tenderizing influence of zazen (seated meditation) meant repeatedly opening herself to both the beauty and the sorrow of the world, and feeling a profound sense of gratitude for it all.
As she continues to navigate this spiritual path, the author acknowledges the role of serendipity—being in the right place at the right time. The process of intimately understanding her own pain through sitting practice, and cultivating right relationship with others, inevitably led her toward self-compassion. It is from this grounded position of willingness to confront her own suffering that she can authentically engage with others, recognizing that beneath the layers of societal conditioning lies a tender, beating heart. She expresses deep gratitude to her parents, teachers, friends, and the countless beings who continue to meet her in right relationship—a relationship characterized by truth and love, synonymous with an embodied dharma.
