Steve Jobs | Jikoji | Mindful Hiking
Yesterday I decided to spend some time alone with myself: go to the Zen center where Steve Jobs used to meditate, and read and sit. Early in the morning I finished my work, packed a picnic, hopped into my good friend's beloved car that I'd borrowed, and
off I went!
Destination: Jikoji Zen Center in Los Gatos
Picnic menu: two boiled eggs, two bottles of drinking water, a banana, an apple, two segments of red grapefruit, 25g of nuts.
Jikoji Zen Center
It was founded by the Japanese Soto Zen monk Kobun Chino Otogawa. Jobs embraced Zen Buddhism at 20, and Kobun Chino Otogawa was his spiritual mentor and friend; on March 18, 1991, he officiated at the wedding of Jobs and his wife, Laurene Powell.
Address: 12100 Skyline Blvd
Los Gatos, CA 95033
United States
Without navigation, it's easy to miss on a road where cars are speeding past, and on top of that, the entrance is marked private property. In American movies, walk into a place like this and you're liable to end up staring down the barrel of a shotgun... After a lot of hesitation, I drove on down anyway.
The whole temple has a beautiful atmosphere, tucked deep in the mountains amid wonderful natural surroundings. Along the way, a few deer bounded from one side of the road onto the hillside on the other, then turned their heads to stare at me, their gentle big eyes without the slightest fear of humans.
Following the mountain road downhill for 5 minutes, I reached a parking lot. Two buildings full of Japanese Zen feeling, the Zendo, sit among the mountains, with wisps of smoke curling up from a chimney that made it feel even more tranquil.
The sun was lovely. By the entrance stood two whiteboards with the Zen center's opening hours and a hand-drawn map of the layout, plus the rules and etiquette to observe once inside, such as keeping quiet, and stillness during meditation.
Walking down the steps should take you to where guests are received, and following the forest path deeper into the woods brings you to the Zendo for meditation. Every blade of grass and every tree seemed especially lovely, full of Zen.
I stood at the entrance for a while. It was hushed and there was no one around. It turned out you needed to "ring the doorbell," which is this bell with a real sense of age~ Beside it, a mallet hung from a nylon cord, and when you strike the bell it rings out clear and crisp.
A white practitioner greeted me. It turned out that on ordinary days you need a reservation to meditate and sit on your own.
Every Sunday at 9:30 a.m. it's open to the public, with beginner meditation and stretching classes, followed by lunch together. 20 spots, first come, first served. Here's the official website, you're welcome~ www.jikoji.org
Mindful Hiking
Meditation was off the table, but I still wanted to walk around a bit. The weather was just too good, and besides, I'd come all this way.
With the Zen practitioner's permission, I left my car in their parking lot and followed the little path beside it toward the forest. The afternoon sun filtered through the yellow autumn leaves onto the forest path, still wet from the recent rain.
I came to a lake, its water reflecting the trees and the sunlight, full of vitality.
Past this fence, the standard hiking trail begins. Keep walking and you reach a fork in the path; I chose the Peters Creek Trail. This was my first solo hiking
From here, I began my "mindful walking."
What is mindfulness? It's focusing on everything happening in the present moment; it's a process of seeing, accepting, and letting go.
In the end, just three things matter: How well we have lived. How well we have loved. How well we have learned to let go. — mindfulness teacher Jack Kornfield
The first ray of light that meets your eyes when you wake up in the early morning;
The stabbing pain in your mouth from an ulcer;
The sweet, fresh taste bursting out as sea urchin is crushed in your mouth;
The seaside wind, cold enough to cut to the bone;
A meeting so drawn-out it puts you to sleep;
The restless anger inside when you argue with family or friends;
And,
Walking along the path, the rustling murmur of the woods and the crisp sound of the stream.
Everything is noticed just as it is, and met with love.
The very first time I practiced mindful walking, I fell in love with this activity that sits somewhere between exercise and meditation: the practice lifts you out of overthinking and lets you notice your body as it walks.
Feel, as you walk, the space you're in, the air, the sounds, the feeling of walking on the ground, how balance is broken and rebuilt, how your center of gravity shifts, letting the body become the focus of your attention in that moment.
Feel, as you walk, the instant your soles touch the ground: every step down is an embrace of the earth, and at the same time you are embraced by it.
Feel, as you walk, the thoughts and emotions when it's flowing, when it's slow, when it's fast, when it's interrupted.
Without noticing, I arrived at a spot with an open view, where there was a semicircular bench built of stone, facing the distant mountains, the wide-open sky, and a valley filled with green.
Someone must have really loved the view here to have built a bench like this on purpose, just so others could sit in this spot and enjoy the beautiful scenery from exactly this angle.
This is the view you see when you sit down.
Because the scenery was so beautiful, I started to stray from my planned route: instead of going back the way I came, I continued down a trail with the same name. And sure enough, after walking for a while, a rustle in the grass on the hillside startled me, and I started to feel scared. I glanced at my phone: no signal at all.
A string of questions instantly flooded my brain:
What if an animal attacks me and I'm bleeding, what do I do?
What if it gets dark and I still haven't made it out, what do I do?
If I get lost, which direction should I go?
Looking up, the road ahead was unknown, and the road back was distant and long...
So much like life at certain moments.
Right then, I made it clear to myself that "I have to acquire some wilderness survival skills."
But that was a matter for the future. How did I solve the problem in the moment?
Luckily, offline maps still work...
When I finally saw a familiar trail sign, I let out a long sigh of relief. At last I was in the mood to pick up a few pretty branches to take home.
In the end, it took 2 hours to complete a little mindful hike + solo hiking.
Art is sometimes an accident.
My lens got smudged, and it somehow captured a dreamlike forest.
A little adventure.