| |
| |
|
| |
|
|
Caitríona Reed and Michele Benzamin-Miki are informed by a lifetime of questioning, and an openness to the continual rediscovering of the miraculous in everyday life.
They have practiced Buddhism and Buddhist meditation for an accumulated total of more than sixty years.
They are rooted in the principles of socially engaged spiritual practice, and by the central guiding idea that the spiritual life is not separate from all other aspects of living.
|
|
They have come to appreciate that Spiritual Practice, including Meditation and Training in Mindfulness Skills, are ways to cultivate awareness, and personal and social responsibility, in all of life's situations.
Together, they have developed a unique way of teaching, integrating the timeless practice of the Dharma, as it is expressed in both the Theravada (Vipassana) and the Tien (Vietnamese Zen) traditions, and their training in multiple modalities of hypnosis and hypnotherapy, with contemporary environmental and social realities. They are co-founders of Ordinary Dharma and Manzanita Village. They are currently teaching a second two year training program for social activists.
Michele is also founder and guiding Sensei of the Aikido Sho Bi Juku Dojo (Los Angeles) in the lineage of Morihei Ueshiba O'Sensei and Shoji Nishio Sensei. She also has affiliate dojos in New York, Minnesota and Northern California where she is a guiding teacher.
|
| |
I
am grateful beyond words for the remarkable work of Caitríona and Michele.
No spiritual teachers I know bring a broader, more relevant range of
knowledge, experience, and well-honed skills for awakening us to fullness
of being. While thoroughly schooled in ancient traditions, their work
is fresh and bold, igniting both courage and joy for meeting the challenges
of today's world. For over a decade my own life and teaching has been
enriched by their adventurous creativity and passionate respect for
life.
Joanna Macy, activist, teacher,
and author of "World as Lover, World as Self" and "Coming Back to Life",
and co-founder of the Buddhist Peace Fellowship
|
|
Michele Benzamin Miki |
| |

|
Michele Benzamin-Miki is bi-racial, of Japanese and European-American heritage. She grew up a Catholic. Her mother was Japanese, a Shinto Catholic. Her Jewish-American father had converted to Catholicism as a young man. In the 70's she went back to Japan for the first time since she was a small child. She came back inspired to study Buddhism.
She began her Buddhist practice in the late 70s at the International Buddhist Meditation Center in Los Angeles, training in Vipassana in the Theravada tradition. She began co-teaching in the mid 1980's with her partner Caitriona Reed, with whom she helped found Ordinary Dharma Meditation Center. In 1987 she began training with Thich Nhat Hahn in theThien, Vietnamese Zen tradition. In 1989 she was ordained into the "Order of Interbeing" (Tiep Hien) in Plum Village, in France and continued training and teaching in that lineage for eleven years. |
In 1992 she co-founded Manzanita Village retreat center where she lives and teaches with her partner Caitriona. She has taught Meditation and the principles of Non-violence and peace education throughout the US and Europe since 1986.
She has taught Meditation and peace education to children in the Los Angeles city schools, particularly within the inner city programs in East and South Central Los Angeles for youth at risk, as well as within the probation systems. She worked in the Central Juvenile Hall prison in Los Angeles for 2½ years teaching Meditation and Non-violence in the system's school programs and special units in the 'Scared Straight' programs for special high-risk offender, the lock down section and special protection units. Her work has inspired programs that have continued since that time.
Michele also teaches retreats at Spirit Rock Meditation Center, in the San Francisco Bay Area, for People of Color. She is a pioneer in finding skillful ways to bring the Dharma out its context of Euro-centric sensibility (as it so often manifests in its recent North American forms) and fostering practice among communities of color. She and Caitríona are strong advocates for diversity and inclusiveness, seeking to create a Sangha that address racism through the Dharma.
Michele is a high-ranking woman martial artist with her own school, Aikido Sho Bi Juku, and is the guiding teacher of three other schools in New York, Minneapolis, and Ukiah. She has a 5th degree Black belt in Aikido through the Aiki-Kai Federation, Hombu Dojo, Japan; and a 4th degree Black belt in Aiki Toho Iaido, through the Japan Iaido Federation, both under Shoji Nishio Sensei. She is vice president of the International Shinrenbukai Federation, a US based organization of Sosho Ryu Iaido, and is a 5th degree Black belt in that style, through Masakazu Tazaki Sensei.
She teaches at the summer training camps for the Pacific Association of Women Martial Artists (PAWMA), The National Women's Martial Arts Federation Steering Committee (NWMAF), and The Association of Women Martial Arts Instructors. She demonstrates, performs, and lectures on non-violence with her sword worldwide.
She is a painter and performance artist. She is also a clinical Hypnotherapist. With Caitríona, she is also co-founder of Five Changes Foundation, an organization to further Non-violence Education, Community Building, and Social Justice.
Paintings and Drawing by Michele Benzamin-Miki
|
| |
| |
What Students
have said about these Teachers
|
| |
"there is a
gentle interplay between these teachers and a breath of knowledge
and a depth of love they share . . the flow in their work is amazing,
and their teaching is very deep"
Wanda Fox
|
These teachers are incredible:
deeply seasoned in classical Buddhist practices, on the leading-edge
of engaged spiritual practices, affirming of classical Buddhism and
also appropriately critiquing of it (in the best spirit of the Buddha),
deeply "real",
Lawrence Ellis (Activist, Organizational Consultant)
|
"I now have an understanding
of what Buddhist practice fused with concern for social justice can
be. And I have a sense of what Buddhist space for people of color
and white people conscious about, and struggling against racism, feels
like"
Eric Roman
|
"I love the way the Dharma
is presented-practical, relevant, deep, creative and playful-all at
the same time . . ."
unsigned evaluation of Retreat with Caitríona Reed and
Michele Benzamin-Miki
|
". . .inspiring
intersection of spiritual practice teachings and socially engaged/activism
ideas"
unsigned evaluation
of a Retreat with Caitríona Reed and Michele Benzamin-Miki
|
"Both of you, Michele
& Caitríona, have integrity to the max. You create peace,
and are peaceful - firm without rigidity, yielding without weakness
- incredible modeling for how to live in balance in an unbalanced
world."
Penny Post
|
"Hey folks, these Buddhist
teachers are amazing. They've helped me fuse my spiritual practice
with my work for justice and liberation.. and through this,
have helped me to understand the world and my place in it. I urge
you to come check this out... it's beginner-meditator friendly and
guaranteed to rock your world (if you're open to being rocked)."
Neelam Pathikonda (San Francisco based activist)
|
| |
| Return
To Top |
| Caitríona Reed |
| |
|
Caitríona: "By chance
I met Chogyam Trungpa Rimpoche and Akong Rimpoche as a teenager
when they first arrived in the U.K. from India in the mid 1960's.
They were staying at one of the Oxford colleges and had been invited
to visit my school, which was not far from Oxford. My life in
the Dharma has since been marked by a number of other fortunate
accidental encounters."
Caitríona began her practice at Same Ling
Monastery in Scotland in 1970, and went on to study with teachers
in Asia, Europe, and the U.S. She has led retreats since 1981.
|
She was a senior teacher in
Thich Nhat Hahn's Order of Interbeing, and received the Lamp transmission
from him in 1992. Prior to meeting Thich Nhat Hanh she trained in Vipassana
in Sri Lanka at Kanduboda Monastery (with Sivali Thera) and at Rockhill
Hermitage (with Akasa Thera and Kassapa Thera); in the U.K. (with Ajahn
Summedo); and in the U.S. with teachers at the Insight Meditation Society
with Joseph Goldstein, Jack Kornfield, Dipa Ma, Munindra, Mahaghosananda
and others. Through most of the 80's and until the establishment of
Manzanita Village in 1993, she led retreats at Dhamma Dena, Ruth Denison's
Retreat Center in the Mojave Desert, She continues to look to Ruth as
a significant inspiration and is clear that it would never have been
possible to establish Manzanita Village retreat center without the inspiration
of Dhamma Dena.
Asked why she is no longer formally associated with Thich Nhat Hanh
and his tradition she replied. "I have immense respect and gratitude
for the contribution that Thich Nhat Hanh has made to our understanding
of Buddhist teachings and practice, and of course deep gratitude for
the years I spent with him as his student. For very personal reasons
I felt the need to distance myself as best as I could from hierarchical
institutions of all kinds, and to connect instead with the Dharma, as
well as with my friends and with my students, in a more personal and
intimate way; not to dilute the teachings, rather to go more fully into
them so that they might meet my own need for an ever more integrated
practice . . . then to do my best to communicate that intimacy and integration
in my own teaching."
"By 'integrated' I mean a practice that does not in any way make a hierarchical
distinction between the political/social/cultural/environmental as well
as spiritual needs of our time. So much Buddhist Practice in America
seems to have become somewhat commodified, recreational spirituality
for the privileged. I am interested in helping build those 'communities
of resistance' where Dharma practice is used to address issues of cultural,
structural as well as direct violence, in addition to meeting our personal
needs for self-actualization. My instinct is that we cannot separate
those two functions of practice. We cannot have one without the other."
Caitríona is also poet who "experienced a difficult twenty-year gap
between one poem and the next." Since "coming home to her life" as a
(transsexual) woman she has happily returned to writing poetry and has
started reading publicly and publishing again.
She is a Clinical Hypnotherapist with a practice based in Los Angeles
(Westwood) and at Manzanita Village.
Poetry by Caitríona Reed
|
| Return
To Top |
| Man,
Woman, Other
by Caitríona Reed |
| |

|
I am still surprised at how often people tell me that
they feel they don't fit the gender designation of their own bodies,
or that the little 'F' or 'M' which appears on their driver's license
doesn't seem to be entirely accurate. Perhaps people feel safer bringing
up this delicate subject with me than they might with other people.
I am, after all, a transsexual woman-someone who has crossed the forbidden
line.
As a person who spent much of my life as a "full-time male-impersonator,"
hiding the reality of my own inner identity, I used to wonder that
more people did not question the monolithic, impregnable, apparently
never-to-be-questioned specter, of a binary gender system, that has
maintained that you must be either a masculine/male/man or a feminine/female/woman.
I now realize that it is not so much whether people had questions,
but whether they felt safe voicing them. |
|
Outside of feminist and queer
communities, and apart from the occasional gender-bending icons of the
past few decades-David Bowie, Michael Jackson-there is remarkably little
public discussion of this binary system. "Is it a boy or a girl?" is
the first question asked when someone is born. When we meet someone
for the first time we automatically look for the clues that will determine
their gender. If there is any uncertainty, most of us become extremely
uncomfortable.
More disturbing are the accounts of physicians surgically altering the
genitalia of ambiguously sexed infants; as well as the daily violence
perpetrated against ambiguously gendered and otherwise queer folk.
For years, I bought into that same binary system. As a male-child who
felt that she did not fit either the body she inhabited, or the social
identity she imagined was projected onto her, I believed that I was
doomed to a shadow life of confusion and hidden desire. When I emerged
into transsexual identity I thought, as did the professionals I turned
to for help, that my best and only hope was to conform to society's
idea of what a woman is supposed to be. I bought into that same heterosexist
system.
Heterosexism and intolerance are by no means universal. In Navajo culture
there is said to be at least forty-nine genders and gender designations.
Well into the twentieth century, in places as far apart as Central Asia,
Yugoslavia, Indonesia, and Africa, people with varieties of gender expression
and sexual preference were accepted in the community, and often held
respected positions-as healers, shamans, oracles, and leaders.
But today, on the anniversary of 9/11/2001, what I really want to say
is this: we live by constructed identities-of gender, sexuality, class,
race, culture, and religion. Though it is assumed that we live in a
materialistic society, we have little respect for material things. We
respect the constructs of power, and the money by which we measure them.
We are afraid of our bodies. We deny their process, as we deny our own
loving, aging, and dying. We hide our desires and fears, imagining that
they would otherwise consume us. The violence of our denial erupts into
the violence that is perpetrated in our names, and which we have come
to tolerate in our society and in our lives.
My experience as a transsexual has radicalized me in ways I never expected.
In this time of deception and fabricated war I have come to see, more
clearly than ever, how we use constructs of 'difference' and 'other
' to marginalize those who do not conform to the status quo-"queer,"
"transgendered," "Muslim," "liberal," "terrorist," "immigrant," "homeless,"
"welfare recipient" "black," "white," "brown," etc.
For all the lip service we pay to individuality, we are extremely wary
of the 'other'. Unwilling to accept complexity and difference, we settle
for oversimplifications-personally, politically and spiritually-that
perpetuate division, dehumanize people, and create real suffering in
real lives.
I sometimes tell people that I underwent surgery to become a middle-aged
virgin. In truth, by being transsexual, I became 'other'. That experience
has led me to a far deeper awareness of racism, violence, economic exploitation,
the manipulation of public opinion, and the perpetuation of mythologies
that distance us, as individuals, and as a society from our experience
of life and from our responsibilities. I shifted my own personal identity
to align myself, and the work that I do, not with women, or with queer
communities, but rather with oppressed communities and individuals,
wherever they are, whoever they are. My experience has become a doorway
to a larger world.
But my experience is not unique. I took a risk in order to embody my
own personal authenticity. It is something anyone can do. In Buddhist
terminology we talk of 'Dharma Doors' as anything that catalyses awakening
and compassion. There are said to be ten thousand Dharma Doors. Perhaps
there are as many doors as there are people to pass through them.
My interest is in embodiment. I maintain that the body, and the body
of the world, is sacred, and given to us in sacred trust. What I have
learned as a transsexual woman is that life reveals itself and that
I can always trust the revelation, beyond the categories by which I
seek to define them.
. . . and so, in writing this, if I identify as just your average radicalized
bi-lesbian white femme transsexual Buddhist sista, with attitude and
a passion for social justice, you know that that's just a construct,
just a way of talkin'. And we both know it could all change in a heartbeat!
Originally Published in Vision Magazine, San Diego. September 2002
|
| Return
To Top |
Fertile
Ground For A Warrior
by Michele Benzamin-Miki |
| |
I walk upon the rich
soil of many traditions, cultural and religious. My mother was
Japanese and her root religion was Shinto, later to be Catholic.
My father was born and raised in America of mixed parentage-Czechoslovakian
Catholics on his mother's side, and on his father's side Spanish
Sephardic Jews. He is Catholic.
My parents met in Japan during the Korean War, and were married
in a Catholic church in Kobe. My mother and father traveled back
and forth several times to America and Japan trying to decide
where to put down roots for a family. I was born on one trip to
America, my sister was born a year later on the trip back to Japan,
and there we stayed until I was almost four.
|
|
|
When I was a small child, this cross cultural heritage was my playground
and I was happy in it. As I grew older I felt my parents' discomfort
as they adjusted to a biracial marriage and their decision to raise
us in America. I found myself having to pledge allegiance to only one
country, America, and profess only one faith, Catholicism. This created
in me confusion, frustration, and, worst of all, a sense of oppression.
. . .
On Being Biracial
. . . . There is a field of all possibilities, where I could go beyond
race, religion, and economic class to a place much like a borderland.
I lived here, in between, not completely American or Japanese. I walked
a path in the middle of the two worlds, where I need be loyal to no
other authority other than my own heart.
A trip to Japan at twenty-one, my first time back since I was three,
stirred up childhood memories and reunited me with a part of myself
I had disowned. It was strangely familiar, walking inside those enormous
hollow bodies of bronze Buddhas in Kamakura, Nara, and Kyoto. I was
amazed to see my mother resurrected there in her homeland, after suffering
the many hardships of adjusting to life in America. I watched her reconnect
to her heritage and root religion, and regain personal sovereignty.
Despite language barriers, I too reclaimed bonds to my Japanese family
that would later change my entire view of life and spirituality.
I came back to America and continued seeking ways of enriching my experience
in Japan. I began training in the martial arts, starting with karatedo,
and soon after that I took up vipassana meditation. My father had studied
martial arts and meditation while in Japan, and had taught me some basic
self-defense when I was a girl. When my mother was a young girl, during
the war, it was part of physical education training in school to learn
how to use a short staff and some fighting techniques. It was in my
blood, so I felt right at home in the martial arts. . . .
Meditation
. . . I discovered the benefits of meditation when I walked into a Buddhist
temple in Los Angeles with a friend who had invited me to attend a yoga
class with her. Here I was, once again, standing in front of an enormous
Buddha statue, more colorful that the ones I had seen in Japan. A bald
man in ocher robes approached us and said, "Come in, you are early,
we start in half an hour." We both felt this was probably the wrong
place for a stretch class, but the man was interesting and we were adventurous.
So began my vipassana practice.
Inside the enormous body of the Buddha, inside the Dharma I found there
was room for everything. I was now embarking on the well-trodden path
of integrating the martial arts and meditation, as well as beginning
to put together the puzzle-pieces of my life. I could recognize my relatives
from Japan and America, my relation to Pearl Harbor and Hiroshima, Jesus
and Mary, Shakyamuni and Tara, angels and bodhisattvas. In the body
of the Dharma all the opposites of my life merged. I signed a peace
treaty with all the warring factions inside myself, and became aware
of the path set before me.
I am a warrior. The word "war," from the Old English and Old French
werra, means "bring into confusion." In times of great anguish and confusion-times
like ours-warriors are born, arise, and called forth into action to
help restore peace and bring about understanding and clarity.
It is easy to fall asleep in the middle-class comfort and convenience
of late twentieth-century America. Whatever our economic background,
we are living in an era in which leading a simple and content life is
neither valued nor supported. In order to be happy, we constantly try
to upgrade our lifestyles. We buy consumer conveniences that are supposed
to save us time, yet we find ourselves so busy trying to keep up with
our possessions that we have lost contact with one another, and lost
touch with what we are doing to the planet. Our communication falters
and our patience with one another wears thin in a world of fast food,
mini-malls on every block, "instant cash" to immediately gratify every
whim, and "virtual reality." These things are seen as progress, designed
so that we cannot see the long term effects of living this way.
When we create a closed system where only human values and desires are
honored, we sever our relationship to this planet. We see the planet
and every other life form as either a commodity or a resource to use
as we see fit. It is a point of religious argument that humans are at
the top of a spiritual hierarchy that renders the earth as our domain.
Even the point of view that we are caretakers, in a role of stewardship
to the planet, breeds arrogance. We are a part of the planet, in symbiotic
relationship with and interconnected to all life-human, animal, vegetable,
and mineral. . . .
Being In the Body
. . . . Buddhist scriptures talk much about awakened mind, "enlightenment."
Here I find the danger of interpreting this to mean mind separate from
body, setting up an epic battle between the "defiled" body and the "supreme"
mind. When we view our bodies just as a vehicle for enlightenment, not
intrinsic to the very experience of enlightenment, we turn them into
a spiritual commodity. We may use spiritual practice to disengage and
retreat from the world, if we see the world, like our bodies, only as
a field of endless suffering (samsara). There is the danger of splitting
mind from body, nirvana from samsara, a danger of repeating the battle
of duality from other "civilized" cultures and religions: the Greeks'
psyche and soma, Christianity's Spirit and the flesh, the Victorian
division between reason and emotion. As Sam Keen writes, "If we were
fully integrated persons we might refer to ourselves as being bodyminds,
rather than as having bodies." We would then engage in life fully and
compassionately, understanding that samsara and nirvana coexist, as
in the Gospel of John: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us,
full of grace and truth." In the words of Lama Anagarika Govinda: "To
the enlightened man ... whose consciousness embraces the universe, to
him the universe becomes his 'Body."'
If we continue to exist in a way that disconnects us from our bodies
and the planet, we will soon die as a species. We have already created
a legacy of suffering that will last a long time after our extinction.
Is this the function of a spiritual life? Perhaps we feel helpless or
overwhelmed, and would rather leave it up to someone else stronger or
more capable to change our situation, or, as some would have it, to
"just leave it in God's hands."
The most common and convenient denial for Buddhists is not to be attached
to anything, even to this life, this planet. Yet we are attached, interconnected,
and inseparable. We are in a constant flow of interconnection: this
very body, this life, this world, is the body of the Buddha, the Dharma,
and the Sangha. We create more suffering, more karma, by continuing
to separate ourselves and act as if our actions don't count. Thich Nhat
Hanh has said, "Someday there will be an instrument that can measure
the effect of a leaf falling to earth on a distant star." I see mindfulness
as that instrument. With our mindfulness we can see that our intentions
and smallest actions have an effect on the world.
I see the interrelationship of our complacency, denial, and fear, hidden
sometimes behind the mask of "spiritual detachment," with the destruction
of life on earth. It recalls to me the image of a frog immersed in a
kettle of lukewarm water on a stove, the flame low, simmering, slowly
being cooked. The frog does not realize its imminent demise, and so
has no reason to jump out of the kettle. Are we dead already? Dead Buddhists?
Or is it time to wake up and smell the toxins, and act before it is
too late? The action can be as simple as a shift in the way we view
our part in this world, not as spectators but as active participants
in the world as it is, in its present state. . . .
The Sword
. . . . The path of the Buddhadharma has brought the sword of compassion
and wisdom into my martial arts training. With these tools a warrior
can develop tireless energy and a clear focus in action. She or he has
the inner strength to be steady and still at times, sustaining an immovable
gaze, and the freedom and abandon to jump in and take risks when necessary.
To know intimately the beauty of failure. To let go of attachment to
outcome only after having given everything you have to give. The warrior
realizes the only true enemy is complacency and self-righteousness.
Without compassion and wisdom the warrior loses sight; energy and zeal
turn into a destructive, out-of-control force. With misguided passions,
she or he can be bought and soldiered into acts of self righteous"benevolence,"
lashing out irresponsibility without understanding the full consequences
of their actions. When there is an enemy to fight against, we are for
the moment safe from having to look into our own deep wounds. But we
do not heal, and the problem remains.
I have been teaching meditation and contemplation on compassion along
with the nonviolence principles of aikido for some time now, and countless
times I am asked if I would kill someone in order to protect myself
or a loved one. I've answered, "I would kill. I'd kill their action,
not the person." Yet now, as I write this, another thought enters my
mind: Yes, I could indeed kill the person. I feel this is important
for me to acknowledge. I am reminded of a story a friend told me. He
was participating in a peace rally, and someone angrily threw a question
to him: "What would you do if you met the person who killed your loved
ones? Don't tell me you wouldn't be angry and want to take their life!"
He replied, "Yes, but then I would count on you, brother, to restrain
me." We are not alone in our struggle; it is necessary to know to ask
for help.
As I walk the path of the warrior, I find love and tolerance to be my
great teachers. I call myself a "warrior" because I am a woman who is
discovering her strengths, who has taken up a path traditionally walked
by men. In doing so, I am uncovering a long lineage of female warriors,
and bringing these archetypes of strength back for myself and other
women. I feel strongly that women need to acknowledge their personal
power.
Everyone has a legacy of stories and rituals deriving from their culture,
background, and lineage. These myths give us security and identity,
but they can also create intolerance, selective blindness, and rigidity.
As women we need to uncover our own myths, handed down through history
and by our families. If we understand how our actions have been controlled
by these myths, and ask the question "For whom does it serve," and the
reply is not "women"- ourselves then it is time to reevaluate and rewrite
them.
I feel my role as a woman in Buddhism is to pay homage to, honor, and
love deeply my own mother, grandmother, and the ancestral mothers and
sisters within the Buddhist tradition. If we as women can do this, we
can begin to reclaim and bring back to life the rich heritage of women's
participation in Buddhism, often obscured in history, and blaze new
trails for ourselves as well as the mothers and daughters of the future.
This earth is fertile ground for a woman warrior to walk upon.
Extracts taken from Michele's essay Fertile Ground For A Warrior
published in Buddhist Women on The Edge: Contemporary Perspectives
from the Western Frontier
North Atlantic Books, 1996.
|
| Return
To Top |
| |
| |