Another Visit to Haight-Ashbury

I got up at 7 am and tried to be quick, but it was 8 am by the time I left the breakfast room. I went down Powell and couldn’t remember which bus stop I stood at last weekend; was it the one in the middle of the street, where there’s a railing for street cars? (This seems to be an easy mistake to make in San Francisco—I had sort of the same question last night, after the play.) So it was at least 8:45 by the time I got on the bus, and I was thinking, “So much for getting to the Basic Meditation class on time!”

After I got off the bus, it didn’t take me long to get to the Zen Center. So last Saturday I was late because I got lost after getting off the bus, and this morning I was late to get on the bus. But this time I went up the steps and into the lobby after all. I told the receptionist (or whatever I should call her) that I came for the basic meditation class but was relying on public transportation and unfortunately arrived too late. She explained that they were downstairs and getting preliminary instructions and that I could go into the hall when they came back up. I went with that idea, and in the meantime I went into a little courtyard garden.

The building is very pretty and Victorian inside, with large arched windows, tall ceilings and fun detail. I think some French doors too. In the courtyard, there’s a water fountain in the center that appears to be carved as a Triple Goddess and that contains lilies and tiny goldfish. There are benches, Buddhas, plants and flowers of quite a variety around the outside of the path that circles the fountain. Opposite the doors is a gallery with arched windows, and on the other walls are other arched windows looking into rooms (and I could see a classroom with lots of people seated on cushions and meditating). It’d be nice to have a house with this feature—I mean the inner courtyard.

When I spotted the people coming upstairs, I was feeling very timid about approaching them and hesitated a little. The instructor was just about to close the door behind them all, when at last I caught her eye, mentioned that I was late due to the bus, and asked if I could join in. She said yes and asked me to close the door behind me, so I took off my shoes (lots of shoes were lined up outside the door) and went in. The basic course was more instruction and explanation and questions and answers than meditating, which I kind of think we did for about ten minutes, but I got a lot out of it—particularly posture. Also, it turns out that zazen is done with the eyes open typically (like dzogchen in Tibetan practice), but someone asked if it’s OK to have your eyes closed and the instructor said, “Definitely.” It’s mainly to prevent falling asleep. Someone pointed out that it seems like your thoughts are less likely to wander if your eyes are open, and I think she had a point.

After the class, there was a lecture in the same room, and at some point I thought, “Dude, this is like organized religion,” while people were silently coming into the room and sitting down. I'm generally wary of organized religion. Most placed their hands together in prayer position and bowed to their cushion and then turned and did the same facing the front of the hall before sitting down. The room got crowded.

An older black man delivered the lecture; he wore festive bright yellow robes with metallic gold threads—maybe he was the abbot or whatever, because the others wore sober black robes and in some cases just navy blue aprons (basically, they were dressed like Genjo Sanzo in the anime series Saiyuki, except he wore white robes and had sutras draped over his shoulders). The lecture topic was spiritual teachers, how it’s important to have at least one (he has ten) helping you along the path. And he talked about helping out lots of displaced Southeast Asians in, like, 1979. They lost home, family, etc, and there were lots of suicides—it was like what we’ve more recently seen in Louisiana, with Katrina victims.

I got on Haight Street and at about noon spotted a Thai restaurant, where I had a yummy lunch (and a tall glass of ice water) for $5.75 plus a $1 tip. That’s my kind of price. I also started reading In Praise of Tara, a book I picked up at the Zen Center's bookstore.

After lunch, I went to Buena Vista Park and found a spot on a short stone wall and under the trees, to sit down and read. That’s after I nearly sat directly across from a homeless person sleeping in the bushes. They sleep during the day because the signs say not to sleep in the park at night. I communed with the scent of pine, with a very well-behaved bulldog that came up and sniffed me, squirrels, and loud-mouthed crows. After about one and a half hours, I got up and headed along the path and further down Haight. I was remembering a beautiful Tara amulet that I saw at the Tibetan Style store, but before I got there, I stopped at Dreams of Kathmandu to see if they had it, because the books were sort of heavy and it was a shorter walk. Besides, it looked like an interesting store.

It turned out to be a wonderful store full of beautiful things—masks, embroidered bags, Buddhas and Ganeshas, pendants and rings. They did have the pendant, but it was $124! Eek. I said I’d have to pass, but I was very gracious about it. So I headed up the street again. I looked around at the interesting crowd—there were quite a few punkers and hippies. The sidewalks were full of people, and there were lots of interesting, colorful stores.

I did indeed get back to Tibetan Style (that’s the name of the store) and there were lots of customers there and a different assortment of clothing. There were dark wool shirts or jackets instead of the light cotton ones that had been on sale a week ago. . I didn’t experience the same special and tranquil atmosphere I had on the first visit, because of the crowd. I noticed that some of the customers were looking at things that weren’t Tibetan, such as toe rings, and someone made a comment that there was a lot of gaudy stuff. Well, not everyone likes turquoise, coral, and silver, but it’s a very Tibetan style, and I like it. I bought a much less expensive amulet—it was $39 and is silver, coral, and turquoise.

I stopped walking when I got to a bus shelter that listed Route 71, which I know goes downtown. The bus I climbed onto was definitely the most crowded I’d ever seen—it was a challenge to even get behind the yellow line to stand, but a nice woman in the front held my book bags in her lap, till she got off at Van Ness Station and I took her seat and held the books and purse in my lap up Market Street.