March 9, 2026

Welcome to whatever comes next.

My year in residence at Zen Mountain Monastery continues. I am just beyond the halfway mark. I can imagine that many people would think that spending extended time at a Zen Monastery is a time of quietude and reflection, a time to rejuvenate the body and spirit. It is those things sometimes. But Zen, in particular, has a long tradition of work being an integral part of training and practice. Think: chop wood, carry water. Work is not something separate from sitting on the meditation cushion. So, safe to say that I have been wholeheartedly working quite a bit. It doesn’t leave a lot of time to think about art but I also have learned that I am not a happy person if I don’t carve out some time to think about - and actually make - some art. It is a non-negotiable.

Still, the reality of being here is that I get 20 minutes here and 30 minutes there to take care of my own business - laundry, rest, physical well-being and art making. What I have found works best for me is to keep paper and watercolours out on my desk. Playing with colour has been so nourishing, especially this winter, which has been so cold and snowy. I can feel myself coming back to life as I lean into saturated colour and the unexpected things that can happen when water and pigments mix.

I also have been collecting sounds around the monastery. I have been especially interested in the sound of the doors that lead out of the meditation hall in the morning. We rise early for dawn zazen and, most mornings, the teachers offer face to face teaching. Once/week, each person in residence has this opportunity to meet with a teacher privately to share about what is happening in their practice and ask a question. There are three doors that lead out to the rooms where the teachers are offering this part of our training and they each have a specific sound when they open and close. The teacher rings a bell to signal that the next student should enter. So, the sound of bells is combined with the doors, each with their specific squeaks, along with robes rustling and cushions being places on a wooden shoe rack. It is so particular to this place and, having listened to these sounds over decades, I want to capture it and use it somehow in a future work.

It is exciting to wander into this world of sound. It feels a little audacious too. Who am I to take up such a thing with no experience working in this realm?

Yes! Exactly that!