Touching Ground by Tim Testu

Author:Tim Testu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wisdom Publications

8. MONKHOOD

For months I’d been entertaining the idea of leaving the home life, but I still hadn’t made a decision. The abbot, in hints subtle and not so subtle, had made it clear that the best way for some of us to reach enlightenment was to leave home and become monks or nuns. Every week he told stories of how each of the patriarchs first left home and then later became enlightened. At Gold Mountain it was clear that the left-home people got all the attention, while the laymen played second fiddle. But I didn’t know if I had the confidence to go through with it. I had spent most of my life as a drinker and a doper. Could I really commit myself to the spiritual life? If the master were to give me the go-ahead, I decided, if he told me that I had the deep roots and wisdom to do the job, then I would leave home. I reckoned that since he could see the future, I could probably cajole him into giving me a glimpse, and perhaps then I’d see what was in store for me.

One day I finally mustered up the guts to ask the master whether or not I should leave the home life. I got down on my knees before him and popped the big one.

“Shifu, should I become a monk, or should I remain a layman?” I inquired.

The master was not baited. He took a long draw from his cup of tea, shifted around in his seat to get a little more comfortable, and with a mind centered in true suchness and the voice of Jack Nicholson, replied, “Kuo Yu, if you were to drop dead right now, I could bring you back to life. But as far as answering your question about leaving the home life, I can’t help you. You have to make that decision yourself.”

On September 22, 1972, at Gold Mountain Monastery in the city of San Francisco, without the consent or blessing of my parents, nor the knowledge of any of my old friends, I took the vows of a novice monk, just as all the patriarchs had done throughout history. I shaved my head and was given the robes of a Buddhist monk. The master presided over the ceremony, and three of us made our vows. (Later on, we would take the complete precepts of full ordination there in Gold Mountain Monastery and become the first Americans in our tradition to do so on American soil.) There was Irving, a newcomer with a degree in Chinese studies, and Judy, a bright young woman studying for her doctorate in Sanskrit at the University of California. And then there was me, an ex-submarine sailor turned idealistic and wastrel hippie. With little fanfare or recognition, we left home, formally dedicating our lives to the achievement of buddhahood for ourselves and for all living beings. Together the three of us knelt with palms joined and, following the master’s lead, recited our

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