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My ears and brain perch attentively trying to follow the conversation with my very limited high school Japanese. Purnamrit Bhawani High school is a high school in the region. The town has grown into an academic powerhouse of the region. Two people, their digestive systems doing their thing. First thing after arriving in Japan, I shopped for presentable summer clothes-another years-long area of growth Sensei has beckoned me into. Sensei mentions we are actually at the historical birthplace of the tea ceremony tradition. The younger abbott serves us tea. When our gentle time together in this tatami room comes to a close, the abbott farewells us and we move on to visit the Zuihoin zen garden. So, when it comes to my interactions with women in leadership, a certain set of ping pong balls get set off. We stop twenty feet away from the towering structure and I set up the camera while Sensei takes in the surroundings.

With my set of lenses, biases, hurts, looking at her as clearly as I can. Keeping in step with her field, looking over at her out the corner of my eye. And in me, some traits trigger physiological fears, while others open my mind to new ways of looking. Through all of this, I see more clearly all the ways I have dismissed my female Teacher and the women in my life. Knowing what is, what has been, the ways we suffer, cannot be dismissed - as it is all making up the walls of the castle on which we are (a)mazing our way through - from which we stand upon to obtain a mightier view. The hairs on my body stand up, in salute! As the Zen saying goes: six times fall down, seven times stand up. Sensei stands slowly. I follow her into the meditation hall next to the zen garden. As we turn the corner, a Zen rock garden comes into view. His father, the former abbott, comes by at one point. There is no one there but us, and we find a seat under the roof’s wooden eaves. I nod and smile, repeatedly, as I can’t find many words in Japanese.

More confident, and a better support for her as we navigate Japanese society. I can be more than the black-wearing queer punk anarchist stereotype of my youth. After the heart realises what it did not know and how it continued to act in ignorance, it can sing a mournful song as an offering, then turn it to a joyful one; the eyes look up, brighter. One day, after our morning filming, Sensei looks up from her natto and congee breakfast and says, "I’m going to take you somewhere special." We catch the subway, then a taxi, and soon we are at Daitokuji, Kyoto’s historical Rinzai Zen monastery. If you think you’re going to get hurt, you will. She said, what do you think? Though great women peek through the Buddhist history books occasionally, think of the big spiritual names you know: The Dalai Lama, the 16th Karmapa, Namgyal Rinpoche, Sayadaw U Thila Wunta… This is a difficult position, particularly for women Teachers at this time in history. They have known each other a long time. Some of my most painful moments in the Dharma have been with Sensei. In our Dharma tradition, the relationship with one’s Teacher, guru, or spiritual mentor is of upmost importance.

But, dear friends, after 18 years of yearly, long meditation retreats, and constant training in the Dharma with very awake Teachers, I am of the opinion that there are places in my consciousness that are thick like mud, and that the filters we wear run very deep, for decades! The great boon of the seeking human consciousness. The zoonotic pork tapeworm Taenia solium, which causes porcine cysticercosis and human taeniasis/cysticercosis, is also an increasing public health problem in Waling area like many other parts of the country where pork is commonly consumed. Yet, in the world of human form, physicality, conceptions, you are also all the time something of a mirage to this person. As a young person I heard stories of Buddhist nuns in Asia praying to be born as men in the next lifetime, for greater spiritual attainment. My mother was a good person doing the best she could. Sensei would check in on me, "How are you doing? For me, as the mind quiets, focuses, the body-mind becomes like an archeological dig-chunks of old metal imbedded in flesh, leakages from the heart, constrictions in the gut. Exhausted by that swordplay, the mind shifted to: Okay.

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