I was on a three-month-long US trip in 1987. After spending a month and a half at The Oak Grove School (run by the Krishnamurti Foundation of America) in Ojai, near Santa Barbara, I left for San Francisco (by a Greyhound bus from Ventura) to catch my flight to New York on the way to Bombay (now Mumbai). As an Indian teacher and a Hindi translator of Shree J. Krishnamurti's books with a humble economic background, I was not sure if life would ever give me another chance to visit America again; so, I was trying my best to make the most of my trip and was extremely keen to go around SF before catching my flight. Seeing my eagerness to see the beautiful city, my new friend in Ojai arranged for me to spend a night with his ex-girlfriend living in Sausalito, across the Golden Gate Bridge.
Janice (I hope I remember her name correctly), a social activist involved in the pacifist movement, told me that she would show me around the city at night as she was leaving the next morning for a day program at the Green Gulch Farm Zen Center at Muir Beach. I blurted out, "Oh, I wish I were also coming with you to have a taste of Zazen, but I don't have enough money to extend my departure date for New York and prolong my stay in this area." She assured me that she would introduce me to the Center director and request a weeklong scholarship. She said, "To start with, let me first extend your departure date for NYC, and then we will see what is in store for you."
The next day, after the first session of Yoga practice, I was introduced to Abbot Tenshin Reb Anderson. He said, "Can't you afford to pay only $10 per day?" I said, "I have only a little more than the bus fare to take me to the San Francisco International Airport, apart from some Indian currency to spend after landing in Bombay." He offered to waive the charges, but I would have to put in some hours of manual work—doing the dishes or working on the farm. I readily agreed. He explained that life would be hard, as on an Intensive Zazen Day, I would have to get up as early as 4 AM for the first session of Zazen and go to bed at 10 PM after the last session. Though I initially shuddered at the hectic, arduous schedule, I mustered enough courage and determination and vowed to live up to the expectations of the Abbot.
I can never forget those seven days. Sitting in the Zendo practicing Zazen, I received more than one gentle blow of the Kyosaku on my shoulder from my teacher, Blanche (Zenkei Blanche Hartman), to make me alert and return to paying attention to my breathing again. Though I was a farmer's son in India, it was at the Zen Farm at Muir Beach that I learned for the first time how to pull potatoes in a potato field.
When I heard about their other two centers—at 300 Page Street in San Francisco and the Tassajara Zen Mountain Center near Carmel—I determinedly vowed to spend at least a week at each of the other two centers, and help came miraculously. I was able to immerse myself in Zazen for three weeks in total.
Hareesh
On Jan 3, 2026 Hareshwar Singh wrote :