I asked her, do you need any help?

She responded by saying it was her first time at the Zen Center. She was waiting, but I wasn’t sure for what, so I pressed her a little further. Had she been to the Beginner’s Instruction? No, she hadn’t.

I was impressed. I attended the Beginner’s Instruction twice before I had the confidence to sit and meditate like a regular old Zennie. This young woman was diving right in.

I whispered to her some basic instructions. Walk in, find a seat and face the wall. Don’t close your eyes, but leave them almost halfway open. The bell will ring to start meditation and you’ll hear it again when it’s finished. We’ll have a short service and chant a little and that will be it.

She smiled and straightened up a little. I smiled back. I watched her walk in to the meditation hall, look around and then find a seat.

I was elated, but then as I sat down for meditation myself, I couldn’t help but think about all the things I didn’t tell her.

When you find a seat, bow towards it, then turn and bow again to the outside world. Only then should you sit.

Try to sit as still as possible. Don’t fidget.

If you get lost in your thoughts, just come back to your breath. Always come back to your breath. It will help you return to the moment.

But how could I possibly say all of this before she was even able to sit down? I consoled myself by affirming that these were all things she could learn – would learn, eventually, if she decided to come back.

In a way, I envied her. All fresh and new to the Zen Center. Everything a new impression. She wasn’t flooded with memories the moment she opened the front door. The smell of incense doesn’t remind her of anything yet. The bells just sound like bells and that springy meditation cushion still holds promise.

But her newness and awkwardness, which might have embarrassed her, was bright and beautiful to me and made me glad. As I finish sewing my rakusu, this is what I want to remember. That there is no right answer. There is no escape (from memories or anything else). There is only newness, awkwardness and hopefully a little compassion.