| The Robe of Mother's Mind |
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| ~ Welcome to Stories of Heart! ~ If you are not a subscriber and this has been passed on to you, join us by sending a blank e-mail to four_ears @ msn.com with "subscribe" in the subject line. And get the love direct! Tour our web site: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001 ________________________________________________________ "Until you make peace with who you are, you'll never be content with what you have." -- Doris Mortman ________________________________________________________ Folks, give a Texas-sized howdy to one of my favorite authors, Algernon D'Ammassa, whose story below gives you a peek into his extraordinary relationship with his mother. Thank you, Mu Mun! ________________________________________________________ THE ROBE OF MOTHER'S MIND In 1993, I began practicing Zen pretty seriously, and in three years I took Buddhist precepts at Providence Zen Center in Rhode Island. At that point, my mother became curious and asked questions about what we do and why. My parents attended my precepts ceremony and mother liked what she heard. She had grown up Catholic herself, but listened to the Zen Master's talk about precepts and morality with a broad mind and finally said, "This is pretty much what I was taught." She also threw me a "Zen Mitzvah" party, proving herself a classy mom indeed. Her curiosity actually led her to meeting my teacher and trying sitting meditation. (She still gets up early in the morning and sits sometimes - she has a meditation cushion in her living room.) Some time passed. I entered a two-year training period as a Dharma Teacher, learning how to give meditation instruction and lead practice. There was no guarantee I would ordain and don the long robes of a "DT," but as the time approached, my mother asked about it. "Are you going to become a Dharma Teacher?" she asked one day out of nowhere. I wasn't sure yet. She nodded and said, "If you do, I would like to know if I could make your robe." Make my robe? It was a difficult project, but possible. The robe is a traditional, Taoist-style robe made of grey material, with long pleats that assist with folding it up, and a belt that ties in a square knot at the front, over one's kasa (that's the brown, bib-like garment one is issued after taking precepts). They are the standard ceremonial wear of Korean monks and, in America, lay Dharma Teachers wear them as well (to the consternation of Korean people). Usually, one orders a robe from Korea, but the sewing patterns are available for the rare creature who dares to sew his own. My mother was asking for this challenge. It actually helped prod me toward the decision to go through with the ceremony. But why was she doing this? "Because," she told me, "If you were my daughter, I would want to make your wedding dress. You aren't my daughter, and in any case you don't seem to be getting married soon, so..." Months went by. My mother worked very hard, referring to patterns and badly-written sewing instructions. The written measurements were off; mother had to improvise using her common sense and an approximate model (a kimono-style bathrobe). The specifications of the traditional robe baffled her, but she plowed ahead. From time to time, I would try on a fragment, make a comment about length, and so on. I did not see a fully-assembled mock-up until a few days before the Dharma Teacher ceremony. It was finally ready the morning of the ceremony. My mother's determination to get this strange garment assembled, and her enormous pride at seeing it on me when I took my three prostrations before the assembly as a Dharma Teacher, were radiant that day. It was an April morning, and it snowed briefly during the ceremony. The robe, it must be said, is a bit funky. The pleats are not exactly straight; the robe folds up messily; the collar is slim; the belt is too long and too wide, requiring me to fold it over before tying it. The length is a bit high, leading people to ask with tongue in cheek whether my Zen Center experiences floods. Mostly, people tell me, "It's time to get a new robe." But how appropriate it is, this crooked robe, made by a mother who only kept the mind of a great bodhisattva while she made it: not understanding Buddhism or Zen, but only supporting and helping her son. This is the mind of the bodhisattva momma, Avalokitesvara: not knowing anything, but only focused on how she can provide help. This kind of mind, this love, made my Dharma Teacher's robe. I may get a more "standard" robe to wear on certain occasions, but this robe of great mother's mind definitely belongs here at the Zen Center. I hope to remain swaddled in mother's mind. Algernon D'Ammassa mumun @ dharmazen.com Copyright © 2002 by Algernon D'Ammassa. All rights reserved. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ About the author: Algernon D'Ammassa is a former professional actor currently serving as Abbot of the Dharma Zen Center in Los Angeles (http://www.dharmazen.com/), a chapter of the Kwan Um School of Zen. ~ Do yourself a favor and subscribe to Algernon's musings just by sending him an e-mail! You'll be glad you did! _________________________________________________________ The Baptist Children's Home (Orphanage) in Baxley, Georgia, has about fifty children in their care. I am trying to start a program called "e-Doptions". It will allow the children to receive snail- mail letters from those living outside the orphanage. People will write to a specific child, giving them words of encouragement on a monthly basis. This would mean so much to these kids. It is hoped that this will give these children a feeling of being part of something other than just being part of an orphanage. To help please email your name and address to: Roger Dean Kiser, Sr. mailto:trampolineone @ webtv.net or visit The Sad Orphan Foundation web page at: The Sad Orphan Foundation http://www.geocities.com/thesadorphanfoundation _________________________________________________________ FAMILY LOVE MOMENT Six-year-old Ethan was sitting in front of the TV, watching his favorite video, when his little sister, Madison, toddled to him and bent over to give him a hug out of the blue. He grinned and hugged her back. Suddenly Ethan had an idea. He dragged a pillow from his bed and placed it on his stomach. Madison laid her head down on the pillow so that the two of them could watch the movie together. _________________________________________________________ ON THE HOMEFRONT Happy birthday to a beautiful woman: my mother, Vesta Senger! And happy birthday to our sweet nephew, Tristan Oliver! Stephen took the kiddos - yes, all four of them - up to Lubbock to visit his cousin for a two-week vacation. At first, I was a little excited about my little mini-vacation alone without any interruptions. I could write up a storm. So I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. Then as the days wore on, I began to realize how much a part my family was in my life - noisy interruptions and all. I couldn't stand to be in such a clean, noise-free home! It's abnormal! Everyone came home safely tonight. Thank the Lord we are back to normal once again. "I missed you, sink!" four-year-old Matthew said, hugging our bathroom sink. God bless you, my friends and family. _________________________________________________________ LOVE, JENNIFER I. OLIVER AND FAMILY four_ears @ msn.com "To live that in thy last long sleep, Smiles my be thine wile all around thee weep." - Nellie L. Wallace, June 24, 1873 _________________________________________________________ This E-mail may be forwarded in its entirety, but first ask the writer for permission before forwarding. Thank you for doing the decent thing! Ü ________________________________________________________ SUBMIT STORY, QUOTE, OR FAMILY LOVE MOMENT: http://www.geocities.com/jenniferioliver2001/submission.htm FEEDBACK: four_ears @ msn.com ________________________________________________________ |
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