Why I wrote Three Years on the Great Mountain

This was supposed to be just a reveal of the cover art and a FYI that copies are available for pre-order—but I found that I had much more to say.

Two and a half years ago, I decided to write a memoir about my experiences living and training at Chozen-ji, the Rinzai Zen temple and martial arts dojo in Hawaiʻi I call home. Part of what motivated me was a desire to process my own journey: How exactly had I found myself here? How did it work, this intensity and fullness that turns one day at the Dojo into what feels like a whole week's worth of living? What had I learned so far, and what drove me to stay and keep training?

How exactly had I found myself here? How did it work, this intensity and fullness that turns one day at the Dojo into what feels like a whole week's worth of living?

At the time, I was so engrossed in the life in front of me that I thought little about how I'd felt before it. But as I began to put words to the page, I remembered more and more how, in the twelve years after first venturing into Buddhist meditation, I so often felt the profound absence of a clear Buddhist teacher and lineage, and diverse, engaging methods to train in. Back then, I mostly only let myself look askance at the empty space inside that so deeply wanted to make spiritual training my life, and life my training. I didn’t dare look at it straight on because I didn't know how to put that desire into action. I didn't even know how to articulate that dream in words.

As I wrote in the early hours each day after morning zazen, now living the life of training I’d wanted—in many ways not even knowing it—memories of this time coalesced. I remembered when I lived in places like New York and San Francisco, and how I had largely felt confident that I was doing the max, that what I was doing spiritually was as far as I could go. 

And yet, I remembered at other times being filled with a sense of longing and uncertainty. In those moments, I'd revisit and add on to the sporadic journal entries in which I wondered aloud if I should go to Southeast Asia and become a Buddhist nun. I always said, No, not yet. And after about ten years of pushing back the goalposts, I eventually resigned myself to having lost the chance for good. 

In the process of writing my memoir, I realized that, while some of writing this book was still for myself—to "write the book I had inside me"—I also wanted to write something for those who share this feeling of longing, even if it’s longing for something that cannot fully be imagined yet. Perhaps there are others out there with similarly monkish tendencies, gravitating to a simpler and more purposeful life. Not really hermit material, but still dissatisfied and convinced that there is something just… more. More to the full scope of being human than most of our lives would evince.

Perhaps there are others out there with similarly monkish tendencies, gravitating to a simpler and more purposeful life. Not really hermit material, but still dissatisfied and convinced that there is something just… more.

I wrote this in Three Years on the Great Mountain, about my first few years here:

"Throughout the days, I tried to remain disciplined and focused on the goal that brought me to Chozen-ji: to realize my True Self. Despite whatever assumptions I had had about what life at a Zen temple would be like, the reality here was always, “Go, go, go.” I was up before the sun and in bed long past dark and, through such training, had cultivated the ability to endure tiredness, pain, and all manner of discomfort to a degree that I had previously thought impossible. Yet I lived most days back on my heels, never quite able to anticipate the demands of the Dojo and never feeling like I was close enough to my goal. I always carried with me the vague but persistent feeling that, despite my efforts and the generosity of my teachers, I had not learned nearly enough."

The big difference between how I've felt before and after coming to the Dojo is the confidence of knowing that I am on the right path. I can't say exactly where that confidence comes from, though I know that partly it's because I feel deeply challenged to grow and develop myself each day. I guess that spiritual training, just by itself, also brings about a sense of solid ground under one's feet—or being set and solid no matter the terrain.

I guess what I am trying to say is that, if there is anything in these words that resonates, "Here, I wrote this book for you." 

I guess what I am trying to say is that, if there is anything in these words that resonates, "Here, I wrote this book for you." 

It’s worth my saying that not everyone should come to Chozen-ji. (In fact, most of you shouldn't! We don't have the space but more importantly, this method of training is truly not for everyone. It’s not even for most people.) But I want folks to know that there is, indeed, more. Not just at Chozen-ji but in all of the places around the world—all of the dojos—where exceptional human beings are forged, finding simple but universal truths and an understanding of why we're here and what to do with our precious human lives.

Three Years on the Great Mountain is a way to take people on my journey so that they may embark or be propelled forward on their own. 

If you are the kind of person who doesn't mind pre-ordering a book and not receiving it for another eight months, you are welcome to purchase it now at your preferred bookseller. Actually, I would be incredibly grateful if you did but, I will understand if you prefer to wait.

Now that the cover art is done and I’ve done my final proofread of the manuscript, all that's left is to receive some endorsements from friends and other authors. In a few weeks, the physical book will be done! My next tasks will be to work on promotion and marketing. 

If you have a book club, community organization, school, or group that would like to do a book event for Three Years on the Great Mountain, I would be happy to join you virtually or in-person beginning in April 2024. I am particularly keen to participate in any events that are a part of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month in May, and which could reach further into the Asian American community than I currently have access to. If you have any ideas on this or want to invite me to an event, I'd love to hear from you.

If you have a book club, community organization, school, or group that would like to do a book event for Three Years on the Great Mountain, I would be happy to join you virtually or in-person beginning in April 2024.

And finally, thank you. I have been moved deeply by what a supportive community I've found here on Substack and am grateful for your attention, words of encouragement, and financial support through paid subscriptions. I'm excited to see this community grow through the release of Three Years on the Great Mountain and to learning and growing together.

Thank you for being here with me. I'm excited for what comes next.