The path of Zen or meditation began for me around fifteen. Many kind souls would guide my steps but the very first arrived unexpectedly on a beach boardwalk in the summer of 2002. I was just a teenager when I saw this elderly Buddhist in saffron robes. They were the first monk I’d ever seen in person. I later learned that a local shop owner helped Buddhist refugees because she believe it would bring her and her business good karma.
I watched them as they moved through walking meditation. Eventually they stopped their walk. Then a sudden shout cut the air as they barked “Come!” I turned around and they pointed dead at me and said, “Yes yes! You! Come!”. Embarrassment flooded me because I’d thought they didn’t notice me watching them do their walking meditation!
As I walked over the old monk held out their hand. Mine met theirs for what I thought would be a simple handshake. Was I in for s surprise! They began grinding my knuckles… Hard! Questions tumbled from me, despite them painfully grinding my knuckles in their hand. But the old monk answered all of my questioning with a smile, and the grinding!
My questions slowed as my attention fell down to our hands. The grinding was actually slowing along with my questions. When my questions stopped the grinding did as well…
Now, he moved our hands gently side to side, up and down, as if testing the weight of them. His movements, our movements, became slower and slower… I watched, transfixed, as the movement became a pulse, as subtle as a heartbeat. The very moment our hands fell completely still, completely, the monk flung my hand away and shouted “Good luck!”
I was shocked. Blank. Just full of the moment. Alive. No questions.
Young bashfulness returned in a rush though. I bowed deep, not even knowing whether I should or not. They nodded. I thanked them and ran away.
Everything in a handshake.
Josen 静泉
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