One year has passed since I last wrote about my experience for the Antaiji yearbook, which
means I have now been here for a year and a half. Like last year, I struggled with what to
write. This year, I found myself grappling with it while coughing in bed. Each time I thought
about what to say, the coughing would start again, making it hard to concentrate. My head
and throat ached, and the cold weather only added to the discomfort. I experienced the
challenges of being in a human body. As the night fell, the coughing grew more frequent.
As I pondered what to write, I realized that I don’t enjoy dwelling on the past. It reminded
me of a quote I once heard: “The past is history, the future is a mystery, but this moment is
a gift—that’s why it’s called the present.” This quote highlights the importance of being fully
present, even when the moment is uncomfortable. Despite my reluctance, writing for this
yearbook is something that must be done, and it offers an opportunity for reflection.
For the 2024 Antaiji yearbook, what stands out most to me is serving as tenzo during the
spring, summer, and autumn retreats. People from many countries came to Antaiji to
experience Zen practice. Some left with life-changing experiences, some stopped the
practice, and others continued their journeys in different ways. Whatever their path, I wish
them well. My life here moves forward regardless of theirs. I am merely a passerby they
encountered. All I can do is try to prepare nourishing meals for them and serve them at the
right time.
Each retreat as tenzo brought unique challenges. In the spring, I had to forage for wild
vegetables. It was difficult since it was my first spring at Antaiji, and I wasn’t familiar with
the local plants. One particularly tough day, I only slept for two hours due to poor time
management and forgetting to prepare the next day’s meal. I even witnessed tears from my
tenzo assistant during a tea meeting, which showed me how overwhelming it had been for
him. He eventually left Antaiji, and I reflected on how demanding the role could be.
During the summer retreat, my tenzo assistant could only help with setting tables because
the season was so busy. However, I had improved my time management and was able to
complete my tasks on time. Still, there were challenges—like the day I didn’t cook enough
rice. By the time of the autumn retreat in November, I faced a different problem: I kept
changing the menu. Due to limited time for planning, I occasionally ended up with two
deep-fried dishes in a single day, which I had to adjust quickly.
This year’s experience was difficult, but I learned invaluable lessons. I became more
resilient, adaptable, and mindful of time. The future remains a mystery, one I eagerly
anticipate. But for now, I am reminded that this present moment is a gift—one to be
cherished and appreciated.
