Homage to my Mother and Father on the eve of 2021

Preparing for my last Basics of Buddhism class, which is on women in Buddhism, I decided to start off by sharing my story. I am, after all, a woman in Buddhism and have a pretty interesting story to tell. Since each class includes a power point presentation I used a picture of me, my mom, dad and daughter sitting at the feet of the Venerable Ananda Maitreya, an esteemed Sri Lanka monk and scholar. While preparing for the talk I took some time to look at this picture. Seeing my parents flanking either side of the esteemed monk started a flood of memories and profound appreciation for both my mother and father. The wave of gratitude was so strong I abandoned my original December newsletter to write this. Honoring our teachers is an essential part of the Buddhist path. We all stand on the shoulders of those who came before us. It’s important to remember this, that we are part of something and not lone creators.

 My mother brought me to my first classical Buddhist teacher Anagarika Dhamma Dinna. My mother was always searching, learning and working on self-development. On a yoga trip up to Vancouver Canada she found Anagarika. Although I always thought of Anagarika as my root teacher, it struck me while looking at the photo that my lineage actually traces back to my mother and father. As I continued to trace my spiritual journey, memories arose of my mother bringing me to her spiritual counselor Ina Goldman, a Religious Science Practitioner. Ina lived in Los Angeles and studied with the founder of Religious Science, Ernest Holmes. Ina taught me many spiritual principles and her presence was deep and accepting of my adolescent awkward way of presenting in the world. At 13 my mother asked me if I was inclined to choose Judaism and get a bat mitzvah. I told her there were certain things in Judaism I just could not go along with. She said, OK, but you need some spiritual training-what will it be? I somehow found a Vedanta Temple in Hollywood and my mother, bless her soul, drove me there each Sunday to listen to the Hindu priest talk about levels of existence. Who does that? Giving a child a choice like that? Supporting the choice taken? My mother was remarkable.

 While my mother taught me the primary importance of a disciplined spiritual practice my father taught me the warrior path of bravery. My father was a shaman, a shape shifter, a raven. He shook things up, and many people hated him. But he knew how to wield power. When I was a little girl, unable to sleep out of sheer terror, I got out of bed and walked into the dining room where my father was busy studying for the Bar exam. I crawled up into his lap and talked to him about my fear as he fed me cheese. He asked, “What are you afraid of?” and we went off into a series of questions and answers that eventually ended up in fear of death. How he got there, I don’t know. Looking back on that I’m realizing that it must have taken a great deal of skill. He said, “Death is nothing to be afraid of. Either death is the end, and that’s it, or it’s the beginning of a new adventure. Either way there is nothing bad about death.” Wow! What a teaching to impart on a child-a teaching that has impacted my life to this day.

 My mother and father were wonderful root teachers. They molded me very deliberately. My mother taught me to love words, to use words impeccably, to be honest, work hard, and think independently. My father taught me not be afraid to stand up to power, to make my own path even if it is harder and longer than someone else’s way. Although their lives were filled with both happiness and lots of unhappiness, and they were flawed human beings, they were both powerful in their own way. My mother a great scholar and my father a great warrior. A scholar and a warrior are a volatile combination. But like oil and vinegar if mixed skillfully they can make a great salad dressing.

My job has been to mix the oil and vinegar of my parent’s imprint and make the best salad dressing I can possibly make. It’s a work in process. The patriarchal approach of my father hampered my confidence, as did the feeling of not being seen by my mother. Yet even these shadow elements have greatly informed my growth as a teacher and as a person. Without the pain of growing up in a culture that devalued women reinforced by a father who was both patriarchal and loved me very much, the drive to lift women up around the world would not have emerged. Without the lack of confidence from not being seen as a child I could easily have grown up arrogant and self-involved with a sense of entitlement. Thanks to my shadow I never lose track of my beginner’s mind.

 We’re all many things. We were all shaped by our early years. Painful and happy, it can all be recycled into a gift of service. It is useful to periodically look back with a more mature eye and with a sense of gratitude for the forces that shaped us into the powers that make us who we are today. None of us got here on our own. As we navigate the last year of this mandatory retreat COVID 19 has offered, it is my greatest wish that you embrace the unique beauty and miracle that you are today-all of you. And that you take a moment, as the new year approaches, to remember who shaped you.