Sects: Zen, with a Difference

It is appropriate that Tassajara should be almost as difficult to reach as the state of satori. High in the hills of California's rugged Big Sur country, 160 miles south of San Francisco, Tassajara is the site of the nation's first and only Zen Buddhist monastery.

Founded 18 months ago on the site of a former hot-springs resort, the stone-and-redwood monastery compound at Tassajara was purchased for $300,000 by a group of wealthy Zen enthusiasts. There is a Japanese roshi, or Zen master, Shunryu Suzuki, 65, who gives guidance in meditation. The American director of the monastery, Richard Baker, 32, is a Berkeley graduate who specialized in Oriental studies. His 60 fulltime novices include college students—for some reason, most come from Minnesota and Texas—professors, a psychiatrist, an importer, a bookshop owner and a former naval commander. There is also a sprinkling of housewives: Tassajara is the world's first Zen monastery to admit women.

Trimmed Ritual. Baker insists that "there is no conscious effort to adapt Zen to America." He concedes, however, that the traditional Buddhist rituals have been trimmed to fit the American attention span. "The Japanese like huge ceremonies that go on for a week," says Baker. "Now the roshi will take a two-or three-day ceremony and cut it down to two hours. Recently I told him that if he doesn't cut it down to half an hour, I won't come." There is also no rule in the community that members must shave their heads, although, in practice, most of them do. In a similarly pragmatic vein, the community continues to take in paying weekend guests at Tassajara, and uses the income to operate and refurbish the monastery.

Into the Zendo. The day at Tassajara begins at 4:40 a.m. with the sound of a tinkling hand bell and the han—a length of ash planking that is struck with a wooden mallet. Students must report to the zendo (meditation hall) by 5. As each person enters the zendo, he bows to the platform that holds the Buddha, burning incense, the roshi and Zen priests. After removing his shoes, the student arranges his zafu (black cushion), adopts the lotus position, and meditates for 40 minutes.

"I tried zazen (meditation) during my visit," reports TIME Correspondent Eleanor Hoover. "At first the lotus position—the straight spine, the fingers pressed together, the lowered posture of the jaw—is not so bad. The cushions seem quaint instead of hard. After a little while, however, the sense of confinement sets in. Panic at the thought that there is no escape, that you simply must sit there just that way for 40 minutes, is well-nigh unbearable."

According to Tassajara's students, panic and pain eventually give way to an unearthly sense of tranquillity. After meditation, the striking of a bell signals the start of a 20-minute Zen service. Although a few of these sessions are partly in English, the early morning one is in Japanese. Collectively, the students chant the Prajnā-Pāramita Sutra: "Form is not different from emptiness. Emptiness is not different from form. Form is emptiness. Emptiness is the form."