Speak Out! 
Flowers Fall
What's the Meaning of This?
Confessions of an Extremist
The last couple of weeks have been very interesting. I was called to do a freelance editing job, and as these things usually go, it was a big job that needed to be done in a big rush. I hesitated signing on, knowing that my plate is pretty full with teaching, taking care of the baby, doing some other editing gigs, spending afternoons pitching articles to editors, back and forth, honing a story, never to hear from them again, waiting to hear from my agent about the course my future shall take, etc., etc. But being the hungry ghost that I am, I couldn't resist the work or money, and it sounded intriguing. The job is done now, officially, but I am still mulling the whole thing over.
Before the baby was born, I had so many rules. For instance, you don't eat food from a box unless it's a cracker (and crackers are to be eaten with guests, not as a meal) or possibly cereal. And you don't work past six or seven when papers must be handed back the next day, and while working on the weekends is inevitable when you're a teacher, you do it on Sunday, and under no circumstances is work to be done on a Friday or Saturday night. This is of course just the beginning of a very long list of laws that used to govern Planet Bethany, and most of them involved much more delicate operations involving emotional currency. I won't even go there.
My point is that while completing this job, which I expected to be pretty horrible in that it would demand the rupture of so many rules all at once, I actually had a total blast. I (along with Thayer) would get up at 5am, do zazen, as usual, then greet baby when she woke around 6 or 6:30, as usual, hang out, feed/eat, as usual, until the babysitter (aptly named Grace) arrived at 9, as usual, then work, as usual, until Grace left at around 3, as usual, or go teach my class until 5, as usual, then play/feed/bathe/hang with baby until bed around 6 to 6:30, as usual. Then, instead of having dinner with Thayer, grading a few more papers, doing some reading, writing a blog, talking to my mom, cleaning up, doing laundry, etc., etc., as usual, I would go back to my desk and work my tail off until 10 or 11. Then pass out and start over the next day. Dinner was toast at my desk. I cancelled plans with friends on Friday night because the job wasn't done. I know people do this all the time, and it's not, objectively speaking, a big deal. But what is a big deal, for me, is that I wasn't griping at all (that alone is miraculous); in fact, I really enjoyed it, and was kind of sad when it was over.
So what is the meaning of this?
I think the meaning has to do with meaning. I left the monastery three and half years ago. Thayer and I stayed up here and bought a house, thinking that proximity would breed connection, that by staying in the neighborhood of the life and community in which we had become so enmeshed, and to which we felt so committed, we would remain enmeshed and committed. Sure, it would look different. We would be "on the outside" (the actual words used to describe people not living within the monastery walls—the "outside sangha," to be exact), but surely our relationships that had taken nearly a decade to develop would be maintained through our nearness.
Wrong. But let me speak for myself.
Maybe if I had just remained "outside sangha" it could have worked, since I would be there more, doing retreats, showing up for morning service, and anything else that struck my fancy, and before the baby, that's what I did, and it worked. But now I feel like a double outsider—living out here in the world of the householder, and being a mom. My practice, in many ways, feels stronger that ever. But I can't rely on formal practice to give my life meaning anymore. I am not part of a community the way I used to be. And as much as I love my girl and feel completely devoted to her; as much as being a mom defines me in a functional way—I can do this, but I can't do that because I am a mom—I am finding that as an identity, as a way to forge meaning in my life, motherhood, and this is a confession, doesn't satisfy me the way it seems to for other women, or the way I wish it did for me.
Thus, the fun of working really hard.
This week has been back to normal. Today I worked while Grace was here, but when she left, the baby took a nap and I talked to a friend on the phone for over an hour! When the baby woke up, we played, I made a video of her dancing to Raffi, we went grocery shopping, returned, put the food away, had a bath, hung out, she ate her non-dinner, then went to bed. Thayer is at school tonight. So I cleaned up the Cheerios and plastic whatnots, made myself a smoothie, washed the dishes, did some work for tomorrow, then sat down to this.
I have always liked extremes best. But maybe there is something to this balance thing.
Bethany Saltman lives in Phoenicia with her husband, Thayer, and baby, Azalea. She has been a student of John Daido Loori Roshi, Abbot of Zen Mountain Monastery, for ten years. Her work has been published in magazines like The Sun, Buddhadharma, Geez, and, of course, Chronogram. She is currently working on a book called Sweet Jesus: Americans Convert to Christianity. E-mail Bethany at Bethanysaltman@gmail.com.