By Ann. My visit to Dai Bosatsu Zendo changed me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. Located deep in the Catskill Mountains, this monastery sits about four hours by bus from New York City, plus another hour’s drive from a place aptly named Devil’s Kitchen. It’s wonderfully isolated—a perfect replica of Ryutaku-ji in Japan, complete with a pond, cemetery, and a small cabin with a fireplace.
It was at the cemetery where inspiration struck. I found myself drawn to a marble granite obelisk with beautiful kanji characters carved around it. Something about those ancient symbols spoke to me, and I knew immediately that I wanted to create an etching to preserve them.
I walked back to the monastery, gathering what materials I could find: unperforated paper towels, masking tape, and pencils. Determined, I returned to the obelisk and taped the paper towels against the stone surface, but the pencils weren’t creating the impression I needed.
I don’t take credit for the thoughts that came next—they simply arrived. I remembered the cabin with its fireplace. “There might be charcoal there,” I thought. Sure enough, I found some charcoal wood, which I borrowed (okay, swiped) and returned to the obelisk to complete my etching.
But then came another challenge: how would I transport this delicate charcoal etching back to California without it smudging? As I walked down the road toward the monastery, I spotted an empty two-liter 7UP bottle lying on the ground. It seemed like divine intervention. I carefully wrapped my etching around the bottle to prevent any folds or smudging. I can only imagine what TSA thought when I carried that bottle onto the plane!
Back home, I took my treasure to a framing shop. After selecting the perfect frame, I noticed something when I picked it up—the last word at the bottom seemed to be cut off. When I mentioned this to the framer, she assured me, “Oh no, I’m sure that’s the way the artist wanted it.” I had to smile at that.
What makes this etching so special isn’t just the adventure of creating it, but the profound meaning behind those kanji characters. They represent the words “Namu Dai Bosa”—”I take refuge in Buddha.” But refuge doesn’t mean hiding away or giving all power to Buddha or God. It means having faith.
As I grow older, especially with everything happening in our world today, I find it increasingly difficult to maintain faith. There is bad, and there is good. But true faith isn’t about believing everything will be okay in some distant future. It’s about recognizing that right now—this moment, this place—is exactly where you’re supposed to be. Where you were meant to be. And you should hold this knowledge, this moment, with preciousness.
That’s what my etching reminds me of every day.
Hakone Zendo 