Suffering in Silence
This Is Why I Became a Janitor
Dear Permission to be Powerful reader,
Last October, I moved into the Rochester Zen Center.
Since then, I’ve shed several decades of trauma.
It’s a beautiful thing.
I’ve spent more time on the mat than just about anyone.
I’m so funny.
I get a job as a janitor and they don’t even pay.
I’m coming up on six months and I am eligible to get a “salary”
$300 per month.
And they work me to the bone.
Up at 6 am for meditation in the Zendo every day.
Brown robes, giant bell, the whole nine yards.
We do chanting every day at the end of the first sitting.
The cool thing about the chanting is…
You drill Buddhist teachings into your bones.
After a while, it imprints in your mind, and you unlock wisdom and insight.
But there’s such a beautiful unfolding happening here.
I worry that the outside world will tempt me away from this place too soon.
Moving to the Rochester Zen Center has been one of the most worthwhile experiences of my life. Hands down.
But you might not think so if you looked at me.
In practical terms, I was a janitor for my first four months.
They recently moved me to the kitchen.
I’m a pot scrubber.
Moving up in society.
About 3 hours of meditation per day.
Morning, noon, and night.
Some insane results y’all.
Insane.
I’m seeing more clearly than ever before by a lot.
I can see through people’s bullshit in ways that I couldn’t before.
I’ve never needed others' approval less.
I’m more authentic than I’ve ever been.
And there’s a quiet strength about Zen.
When you have gone as hard as I have…
You see the world differently.
Your motivations change.
People see you differently.
People are so noisy.
I see their nervous tics.
Their restlessness.
There are some really interesting case studies.
The common theme is the tiny trail of chaos they always leave behind.
“Normal” people are…
Angry.
Hostile…
Childish.
Not everyone. Of course.
But many.
Most people are kids in adult bodies.
People who don’t meditate tend to be addicted to instant results.
My buddy asked me, “So, are you, like, enlightened yet, bro?”
No.
My sensei says, I’m changed.
I asked her how.
“You looked settled.”
“More comfortable in your skin.”
It’s true.
This place has absolutely cleaned my clock.
I’ve done about 8 or 9 7-day retreats.
This is where we go to a secluded monastery, and we go full Buddhist monk.
No talking ever.
No reading.
No tech.
Just meditation and chores all day.
4 am wakeup mock tock.
There’s only enough time to brush teeth, put on robe, and get a quick cup of coffee.
Then we walk outside in our dope Zen quad.
Rain or shine.
In January, it might as well be Anartica.
Pure misery.
But no time to think about that, off we go to sit in silence for the next ten hours straight.
The night ends around 9:30.
We are eating like…
As few calories as possible.
Suffering on purpose.
I skip breakfast.
Three crackers and a bowl of hummus.
Half a slice of bread and a tiny salad for dinner.
One apple before bed.
They never taste better.
The first three days are always the worst.
Your mind is fighting back.
It has nowhere to run and it won’t go silently.
Here’s your favourite doom spiral to throw you off balance.
It’s behaving like an addict in withdrawal.
Once your mind settles down, you can see the whole world anew.
You see things as they are.
Not as your mind tells you.
You process decades of junk that’s been living rent free in your mind.
This is the mother of all spring cleanings.
By the end…
You gained a decade of wisdom.
You have a whole new lease on life.
You’ve let go of so much bullshit that’s been weighing you down.
Often solutions to problems show up automatically.
Just sit and wait.
That’s all you have to do.
Do absolutely nothing for seven days.
NOTHING.
No moving.
Eyes shut.
Not a peep.
Nowhere to run or hide.
Everytime I think I have this place figured out, I unlock some new insight that clarifies my life.
I came to this place to seek refuge.
My life was in crisis mode.
I needed protection from the outside world.
I never worry about gossip.
I don’t have time to follow the news.
I live life in a perfectly controlled environment.
The retreat center at Chapin Mill, I like to think about it like a spiritual pressure cooker.
The constraints are so severe that they force rapid progress.
Something profoundly beautiful is happening inside me.
I don’t know what.
But I love the results.
Tony
Editor-in-Chief
Permission to be Powerful
