Today was my Zen teacher's ceremony. Those of you who might be reading this for a deeper understanding of the role of ceremony and liturgy in Zen traditions had better stop reading this right now - this is a totally egocentric, first person account of the ceremony from one self-perspective only. And I'm recounting it here not to praise myself, but just to document it for those who may have no idea what it might be like.

But as I was saying, today was the day. I got to the zendo at about 8:00 a.m. and the roshi insisted that I wear a borrowed black ceremonial robe, the hem of which kept getting under my feet and tripping me up as I rose from sitting. I sat in meditation for about 90 minutes to calm the mind before the 10:00 ceremony.

The ceremony itself consisted of the four candidates filing in to the room and the usual prostration bows and incense offering just like the initiate's and the disciple's ceremonies, but then went on to a sort of public test of the candidates' understanding. I've previously discussed the central koan (case study) for the ceremony here in this blog, although I had not identified it as such. The senior teachers put both prescribed and spontaneous questions to us. My prescribed question was, "A great master tumbles, dancing in the spring breeze. Falling in amazement, apricot blossoms scatter in a riot of crimson."

Very nice image, but hard to find a question in that. Responding to the imagery, I replied "Yes. And a single purple daffodil blossoms by the zendo door." Not a bad answer, I thought, because, after all, it was true - there was a single purple bloom in the otherwise seasonably dead garden by the front door (although I was later told it was an iris, not a daffodil), and the image also could symbolize the blossoming of wisdom and understanding through zazen.

All of you reading this can probably think of better answers, but you're not on the spot kneeling in front of the sangha in a borrowed ceremonial robe.

But then the senior teacher replied, "Can't you do better than that?"

Well, of course I could. All words miss the mark anyway, and a better answer would be silence. So I stood still and quiet for a minute, and could sense the sangha at first thinking I was struggling to formulate an answer, but then gradually realizing that the silence itself was my answer. Or so I thought, until the roshi cut in with a few words to help me out of my "predicament."

So, I mumbled something about "blossoms fade while weeds flourish," drank a big bitter cup of humility and waited on the next questions.

They were fairly easy after that, especially as I regained my Zen footing and tried to avoid answers that stuck to either the relative or the absolute. I was asked to recite some scripture, I was asked if Buddhas existed in both the mountains and the cities, I was asked if we shouldn't rather perform zazen standing on our heads than sitting on our asses.

Then I was asked to recite my poem based on the koan.

I had thought about the assignment all last week, and most of the poem came to me while in the shower last Friday morning. Arising, I said:

"Nanyue searched but could not find
The face that fronts ordinary mind.
Eight years spent in meditation,
Mind devoid of conversation,
Finally swung the dharma door.
If the face you're looking for
Is whiskers, nose hair and eyelashes
Your practice is dead wood and ashes.
If you yearn for silent thunder,
Then take Pittsburgh and the over-under.
But in pure practice, undefiled,
The Buddhas laugh, and Huineng smiled."

It was the best that I could come up with, and I'm not quitting my day job, but I did hear some gratifying laughter after the "over-under" line.

The roshi finally declared "Well done, Shokai" and after a few words, declared myself and the other three candidates senseis, and led the procession (or is it "recession"?) out of the hall. Hugs and congratulations all around, a meal, and that was that.

I'm sure others in the room have a different experience of the ceremony, and might recall the events differently, but there are as many different experiences as there were attendees. I can only recount mine.