Familiar

Familiar

Trying Something New Can Lead to a Feeling of Familiarity

As you walk up the cracked concrete stairs you will notice a little wooden sign hanging on the faded brown door to the Brady house it reads; “This is an American House ran Japanese Style”. Which means, take off your shoes. Upon entrance to your first Buddhist Meeting at the District House, a sound that resembles a swarm of bumble bees is almost overwhelming and you notice that you can’t understand what they are saying. Your friend politely whispers to you “they are chanting”. You will probably trip over the piles of shoes and flip flops tossed about in the cramped entry way as you make your climb up the beige carpeted stairs. Many guests’ facial expressions are a mix of confusion, intrigue and anxiety. After the initial shock of “what have I gotten myself into?” wears off, a calm comes over most when they realize the compassion and belonging that surround them like a parent welcoming home their child after a long separation. This is where I belong.
I notice the smell of Niko Niko rice that has probably been in the cooker over 6 hours. I take my place on the newly shampooed carpeted floor beside my best friend Mieko and crisscross my legs. The older Japanese women can sit over an hour in such a way that make my legs ache just looking at them. The sound of the enormous brass hand hammered bell being struck takes me by surprise and resonates in the modest living room for a few seconds. Silence. We bow our heads in unison and like well trained soldiers we all simultaneously open our soft cover sutra books. I just bought a new one so its 4 inch pages are so crisp that I fear a nasty paper cut. Most have the translated English version but for the original practitioners, Japanese style. I notice the humming of the early model air conditioner that’s held in the single paned window by a piece of plywood kick on. It is greatly welcomed since there are more than 30...

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