There are many paths up a mountain that lead to spiritual self-discovery, but author, strategist, and Zen Buddhist priest Christina Moon has taken a particularly steep one. “I think most paths are winding, but some people want to go straight up the mountain,” she says. “That's what works for them, and that's what works for me.”
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In his new memoir, “Three Years on the Great Mountain: A memoir of Zen and Fearlessness” (Penguin Random House), Moon details his spiritual journey from working as a human rights activist in Burma (now Myanmar) to marketing corporate mindfulness training groups in the Bay Area, to finally taking up residence at Chozenji Temple, a Zen temple and martial arts center in Hawaii known for its rigorous training practices.
She eventually became a Zen monk herself, and still lives at the temple, where she continues to train in a particularly rigorous form of the Japanese sword art known as kendo, as well as teaching martial arts, pottery and other Japanese arts to students, helping them discover what Japanese Zen monks call their “true selves” – happy, free and beyond all fear and self-imposed limitations.
Moon knows the difficult path she's chosen isn't for everyone, but she hopes that by writing honestly and vulnerable about the challenges and growth she experienced during her first three years at Chozenji, she can inspire others to seek out the teachers and communities that will best help them face life's obstacles fearlessly.
“If you train hard, you can find your way home,” she writes in the book's introduction.
Moon spoke to The Times about his transformative experience at Chosenji, what it means to face challenges with a “navel-forward” approach, and how we can all work to live life with less fear.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
One of the goals of your Zen Buddhist practice is to cultivate fearlessness. This seems so important right now, given that there's a lot to fear in the world: war, climate change, political unrest. What does fearlessness mean to you, and how can we work to achieve it?
Fearlessness in a very practical sense is simply finding a way to live your life without hesitation. When you see an opportunity, when you see an opportunity, can you take it 100% without being held back by fear? And then inspire and share that with others.
Overcoming my fears when I first started attending Chozenji was really simple things like not ducking or getting small when someone was trying to hit me over the head. [the Japanese martial art] Kendo, or not being afraid to feel discomfort or pain while sitting and meditating for long periods of time.
But the same can be said for anyone who does any kind of physical training or exercise: you push through those moments of doubt and you're running up a hill. I want to give up right now and walk up this hill, but I know I'll get there soon. Doing it physically allows you to do it in other parts of your life emotionally, mentally, and interpersonally.
What I learned at Chozenji Temple hairEndo — The Way of the Sword — and cHado, or the tea ceremony. Could you please explain these practices and what you learned from them?
“Do” is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese word “Tao” and means universal energy, universal truth. When you attach this word to a discipline or art, it basically means that you can use this martial art or fine art as a training method to shape yourself.
“Ken” means sword and “do” means way. So kendo is the way of the sword. Kendo is a traditional Japanese martial art that is quite intense and aggressive. When samurai actually existed, they used metal swords, but now they use bamboo swords or wooden swords. In the kendo approach, you don't learn defensive movements. You train how to step forward and cut in a straight line.
The goal is to cut through the middle faster and with less hesitation than your opponent, so that when you're faced with an attack, you're the first to land a hit. This particular type of training develops fearlessness, so that when you get hit, you don't care. When you get hit, you can move forward and do what you need to do.
“This special training makes you fearless, so that if you get hit you don't care. You can still go forward and do what you have to do.”
— Christina Moon on the Japanese martial art of Kendo
Chado, or the art of tea, is completely different. It's amazing because it incorporates philosophy and all the art forms: cooking, calligraphy, aesthetics, tea itself, sweets, ceramics. When you're in the teahouse, it's really all integrated. What I didn't realize until I started training was that male samurai were the first people to train in chado. It was a counterpoint to their lifestyle and livelihood, a moment of peace.
What they both have in common is the cultivation of life energy called “kiai.” Ideally, there should be no separation between kendo opponents, between man and sword, between host, equipment and guest. It is an opportunity to experience the connection and oneness of all things.
Your book details how rigorous the training at Chozenji was. In addition to the physical demands of long meditation sessions and martial arts, your teachers They were always correcting you. Did you have to develop a tolerance for being told you were doing something wrong?
In Hawaii, this is called “rebuke.” It's one of the first things people have to deal with when they come to train at Chozenji because they get reprimanded for everything. Sometimes the feedback is very warm, but when it's harsh, it's unpleasant for people. We're always warned that if the rebukes or feedback stop, it's time to get worried because it means people have given up on you.
We don't do things because they are precious or sacred. We do things like how to hold our hands, how to walk, how to tie our hakama, etc. [traditional Japanese martial arts training clothes] All of this helps you learn how to pay attention and heighten your senses.
I love the phrase in your book, “approach life with your belly button facing forward.” What does that mean to you?
It means meeting life's challenges and opportunities head-on instead of looking for clever ways around them. It means honesty and integrity, and it means being willing to face things head-on, especially when they are difficult.
One chapter in your book is titled “2-1=3.” Can you explain this?
This is something I was taught by Kangen Roshi, one of the teachers here, and the idea is that when you let go of something, you release all that energy and space and gain an understanding that is far more transcendent than our everyday understanding of the world being zero-sum and how things are supposed to work.
He also gave me a copy of “Jitterbug Perfume” by Tom Robbins. At the end of the book, some characters die and are at this way station to find out if they're going to go to heaven. The test is to weigh your heart on a scale, and only hearts lighter than a feather will go to heaven. That means you have to let go of all your burdens. You have to let go of everything.
In this book, for the first time sEssin is a week of intense training, with only four hours of sleep a night. One of my teachers told me, “Stop wasting your energy by beating yourself up.” Why was that a big turning point for you??
Sesshin is an extreme situation where you have to figure out how to let go of your burdens and the things that are holding you back. The situation leaves you with no choice.
At my first sesshin, I was preoccupied with how tired I was. I had a constant monologue in my head: “I'm so tired. I can't do this. I don't think I'll make it.” For me, the most effective rebuke was to be told, “You're young, you're healthy, and you've been doing this every day for six months. Look around you and there are so many people who aren't as fit as you are, who don't know what they're doing, and who don't have as much experience as you. What effect does it have on these people that you're feeling so down?”
summary
From “Three Years at Mt. Daisen”
From then on, whenever I heard the voice say, “I'm so tired,” I simply said, “No!” and started putting more energy into whatever I was doing. I immediately noticed that I had more energy.
The really painful realization that came from that was that I had left something undone throughout my life.
Most people probably won't leave their jobs and homes to live and train in a dojo in Hawaii for three years. What can you do to challenge yourself in your everyday life?
My experience at Chozenji was truly unusual. 99% of the people who train here don't live in Chozenji. They have jobs, they have families, they live on Oahu, and they come here one or two days a week. But my advice to others is to find a dojo in your area. The best place to start is a martial arts dojo or boxing gym. It's something close to home for those who are ready to rethink how they want to approach their life.
I know that after an eight-hour work day and an hour-long commute, the temptation is to have a beer, eat dinner, watch four hours of Netflix, and go to bed, but how does that prepare you for what life inevitably brings: the best of times, the worst of times, the most difficult times?
Many people feel fear and anxiety about the future. Have you learned anything that can help you overcome those fears?
The real answer is not the rational answer we are looking for. Beyond issues like climate change, it is certain that everyone we love will die, including ourselves. And accepting that in some way can actually make us freer and happier and more able to cherish the life we have. The worst thing we can do is become depressed, nihilistic, or resigned, knowing that is the outcome for all of us.
It's such a wonderful opportunity to be able to live knowing that it's coming. Maybe every moment matters. Maybe what you're doing right now matters. How can you make it count?
I've read a lot of Buddhist memoirs and self-help books over the years, but this is the first one I've read written by an Asian American woman, so I was surprised. I wondered if there were other books I hadn't read, or if there weren't any others?
There are a few. Sharon Hsu wrote a book called Occupy This Body: A Buddhist Memoir, which I think was published by a very small publisher. Cheng-Hsin Han published a memoir called One Long Listening, about her experience as a Buddhist pastor and losing a close friend to leukemia. These are the two most recent books that I know of.
My book is a Buddhist book, but I tried to make it relatable and read like a mainstream memoir, and the reason for that is really this: our stories aren't being told. I think there's a growing movement towards Asian American representation in the Buddhist world overall, but there's still a long way to go.
Shelf Help is a new health column that interviews researchers, thinkers, and authors about their latest books. The goal is to help you learn how to live a more fulfilling life. Have a suggestion for us? Email us Alyssa.bereznak@latimes.com.