Saying “No” to Bernie

Bernie had a way of creating conflicts with family obligations. Maybe that was something he inherited from Maezumi Roshi: Zen before family. It’s not what he believed but it was the way he acted. It was hard for me to say “no” to Bernie. Bernie was my teacher. Progress on the spiritual path demanded letting go and trusting.

The first Auschwitz Retreat would fall on the Thanksgiving weekend. It happened to be our first married Thanksgiving. Dee, unsure about my going, talked with her friend, Cathy. Cathy’s husband was always going off on golf outings with his firefighter buddies. Dee and Cathy decided a spiritual retreat was a better excuse than golf. I went off to Poland leaving Dee to make Thanksgiving dinner for her parents and my mother. I was grateful. It was an awesome experience. I felt guilty, but I hadn’t really learned to say “no.”

I finally got it 3½ years later. It wasn’t a national holiday. It was Morri’s second birthday; that wasn’t in Bernie’s calendar. I left her party early to catch a plane to LA  for the big, Santa Barbara Peacemaker retreat. I had misgivings as I boarded the plane, but the retreat, on a mountainside above the Pacific, was wonderful, the retreat where Bernie asked us to pick alter egos – I chose Martin Buber – and Egyoku Roshi introduced us to Zen 108, the practice of meditating an hour a day for 108 consecutive days. Wonderful, but on the flight home I was certain that I would never again voluntarily miss a Morri birthday.

After that, it was family first. It became one of our core values as we built our charter school network. A teacher had to leave early to pick up her own sick kid from school: we didn’t dock her pay. For maternity (or paternity) or bereavement, we didn’t count leave days. Take what you need. Anything we can do to help? Our team was an extended family. It helped make our charter network a special place to work.

Family comes before work. Family and work come before spiritual training. It meant saying “no” to so many Bernie invitations. I was jealous of those dharma siblings who were always gallivanting off with Bernie to wonderful, exotic places. I knew what I was giving up as householder. Spiritual practice needed to fit with job and family obligations. Bernie understood. He’d enjoyed his built-in immunity from Maezumi's all-hours-of-the-day-or-night calls. Unlike other senior Maezumi students, Bernie had his “Sorry, we’re just sitting down to dinner” or “It’s time to put the kids to bed.” Maybe Bernie had more strength or courage than the others. Or maybe, it was Helen, Bernie’s wife who had the strength.

Bernie was always the advocate for a balanced life. I loved it when Bernie was asked by another student – it was one of my first times in a small group with him – what percentage of effort should go into spiritual practice, what percentage into work, what percentage into family. When he answered, “Put 100% of your effort into your spiritual practice,” my heart sank, but he continued, “put 100% into you family; put 100% into your career.” That was Bernie’s Zen.

Much of Buddhism divides the world into monastics and householders. Householders so often can only pray for a monastic rebirth. Zen has made a place of equality for householders, but it’s a hard place. It’s the only place I know. I haven’t missed any more family holidays. And, for sure, I have no regrets about that.