WOMEN ANCESTORS

Many of you know that my Mom passed away during the past year. I still don’t know what to say about that. Mothers and daughters have complicated relationships. I miss being able to talk to her on the phone...I wish she had taken better care of her health. I would like her to still be alive. She passed into the next realm in the night, from her own bed, while at home. She had just returned from a long vacation in Hawaii. She would have said that was good timing and the right way to leave us.

Over the past 9 months I’ve been both looking at and avoiding this photograph. Taken in 1988 in Pacific Palisades in front of my Great-Aunt Marie’s House, the picture is of my Mother (Casey Wood), my maternal grandmother (Ethel Robinson) and myself. A rare photo, the three of us are casually dressed, together in the morning with Grandma’s beautiful Impatient flowers framing us on either side. I am dark in dress and possibly mood. Struggling to figure out who I am, I have just begun to teach yoga and am ending a failed marriage. My wardrobe reflects the state of my life. Mom has just returned from 2 years living in Hawaii. She is sunny with a sparkle in her eyes. And Grandma, a widow of 20 years is at the center, the heart of our matriarchy. She is a strong, gentile, and healthy presence. Aunt Marie, widowed herself just 2 years before, is taking the picture of us.

They are all gone now. Aunt Marie died in 98’, Grandma in 2004’ and my Mom last October. Even the house is gone, razed and replaced with a house that leaves no room for Impatiens to grow. Concrete from edge to edge.

I’m feeling a bit displaced when I look at this photo and nostalgic all at once. I feel a little atilt - awhirl. Like the ride at the amusement park. I’m longing for the comfort of the scent and voice of these dear women.

Zen has been my spiritual practice over the past 10 years or so. Among the supporting elements of this practice is the recognition of the ground that is laid for our present by the lives of countless beings past, present and future. Our very real human ancestors transmit to us through their lives and teachings sacred truths that are available to us if we slow down enough to appreciate and validate them for ourselves.

Each of the past 10 summers I have traveled to California to spend time at the Tassajara Zen Mountain Center. During the summer guest season there are four scheduled times to be in the Zendo Temple for meditation and/or service (morning, mid-day, late afternoon and evening). In the mornings a person runs through the complex with a hand bell to wake us up. And then two people trade clapping sounds on wooden blocks that echo across the little valley. It is the signal for people to come into the zendo for early morning meditation. After 50 minutes of meditation, there are a number of traditional chants that are sung. The final chant is one in which we recite the names of the buddhist women ancestors all the way back to the The Buddha’s mother. The list is incomplete. Many women’s names have been lost and their teachings and contributions to the practice ignored or undervalued. By chanting the names listed we acknowledge the desire to remember those who are known and unknown. The recitation of this list each morning is a very emotional and important part of the service for many women and men. Its inclusion in the service is radical in its feminism in this very patriarchal Japanese Buddhist Lineage. Saying the names of these women out loud with those congregated helps all of us to be more fully grounded and present somehow.

I’ve great trust in the unfolding of this spiritual practice. Nothing is ever really missing, though it is sometimes hidden until one is ready or the time is right for it to be revealed. In my current tilt -awhirl present it became apparent to me that it was time to glean, a clearer, stronger, ground that includes my personal women ancestors known and unknown. With research provided by my step-mom Myrna Bailey and my Grandma Ethel’s family history notes, names, dates and geography begin to form a very basic view of these women. I’m finding in their names beauty and mystery. I ponder our interdependence. Many of these women’s names are new to me. They are a part of my heritage that I have sought through omission and ignorance to minimize. It is time to embrace all of them and all of them that is and will become manifest in me. I acknowledge that they have already blessed me; through the truth of their presence and effort, they have created the way for this moment. I can choose to anchor today and my practice in this thought. With gratitude and respect here are their names;

Rayo Portillo, Ann Watson, Espirdiona Garcia, Hester Racheal Jones, Annie M Bower, Josefa Huizar, Rafaela Rivas, Alice May Luddington, Victoria Robinson, Ethel Hook, Elizabeth Alice Farrington, Hazel Mae Farrington, Marie Robinson, Wilhelmina Burke, Jerri Seaberg , Catherine Robinson, Consuelo Ponce, Carmelinda C. Ponce, Inez Harriet Hook, Miss Clough, Ethel M. Farrington and Carol (Casey) J. Robinson.

May we all know happiness, freedom from fear and true realization