Ring of Moss Zazenkai Hike Recap from Sunday, July 13, 2025

Nine stalwart folks showed up at Floss at 7:15 am to meet and carpool to the first ROM Zazenkai Hike at the Welch’s trailhead along the Salmon River.  One person met us at the trailhead. 

So what is a Zazenkai Hike?  It follows a long tradition of Mountains and Rivers sesshins at Ring of Bone and Hale Malie hikes in Hawaii. 

And how does it work?  First, it requires scouting the area—which Andrew and Lori Mason did. Second, it is not just a hike--It’s Zen Practice.  And third, it has a form—periods of zazen, walking in silence, a dharma talk, eating and socializing over a bag lunch, stopping to look at the mountains, rivers, trees, sunlight, and listening to the sounds in the forest. 

I believe that each of us benefitted from this experience in ways we don’t even realize.  As we sat and listened to Andrew’s dharma talk, I was distracted by all of the moss hanging from the hemlock trees, and couldn’t help blurting out at the end:  “We are sitting in a Ring of Moss”.

Enclosed are the reflections of two of the hikers. We are so grateful to Susan Zalkind and Deborah Ball for accepting the invitation to share their personal experience.

 And we are grateful to Deborah Ball for leading off our hike with the chant:  E Ala E: (Arise, Awaken) It is a chant to awaken the inner wisdom and strength of people....speaks of the sun rising out of deep, deep ocean, climbing to the highest heavens symbolizing rebirth, the power of life.

-Jane Lawson

Impressions By Susan Zalkind, Alabaster Master, M.Ed.

Walking along the Salmon River on the Salmon River Trail with my Ring of Moss Zen Sangha, my first time up on Mt Hood after moving to Portland 6+1/2 years ago, was a revelation.  Astonishing beauty at every turn, with every glance. Quiet. Nature. Just Being.  Ten of us.  The benefits from the experience, thought and consideration that went into the planning and structure of the practice hike were great and still resonate in me a week later and possibly always will.  After meditating in circle we were instructed to leave at least 90 seconds to 2 minutes after the previous hiker, to silently pick up our gear and walk singly along the path with the awareness of being separate but a part of the whole.  The sense of being alone on the trail in these gorgeous woods by the river sparkling yet knowing that we were all together, supporting each other, elevated and deepened the experience.  At our arrival point, feet startled and relieved by the chill of the water, visual system dazzled by dappled light through lemony/green maples leaves and easy breezes, with the smell of the woods penetrating deeply, we meditated together in circle again under a ring of moss hanging from hemlocks.  Can we do it again?

Mossy Zazenkai Hike and Kinhin in the Hospital Corridors  By Deborah Ball

Kinhin (walking meditation) along the Salmon River….the rocks, fir trees and their roots, ferns and moss…..a gentle thump, thump, thump in the rhythm of my step revealing an earthy echo.  Each of those joining this Ring of Moss Zazenkai spaced out silently on the forest trail.  Hiking together felt safe and healing.  We gathered in a circle for zazen at the river’s edge under a grove of large shapely trees.

Then, Andrew Mason gave teisho (a formal conveying of Zen teaching).  Afterwards, during my exchange with him, Andrew shared about a moment when he was out in the wilderness with Nelson Foster.  The stunning beauty of the mountains revealed to him, “How dare we?(!)”  Andrew’s insight conveyed we are violating our earthen interrelatedness.  This reminded me of our responsibility to malama ‘aina (Hawaiianan phrase meaning to nurture and care for the land). ‘Aina can be literally translated as “that which feeds.”  May we nurture the earth that nurtures us.

The next week working at the hospital, Andrew’s insight came to me in a very different way.  During a chaplain meeting, I felt uneasy about a chaplain colleague’s plan and I was anxious to get out to visit the patients I had not yet seen that day.  My concerns led me to be unskillful in the way I spoke during the meeting.

The next day, I was moved by the efficacious and powerful way I helped improve a couple of different patient’s sense of wellbeing.  I witnessed the preciousness of my interventions.  After one visit, I walked the corridor, my footsteps echoing the forest kinhin.  The ring of Andrew’s teisho under the trees at Salmon River arose in me: “how dare I?(!)”  I saw how small my actions in the meeting were given the vast suffering around me in the hospital and community.  I was reminded of the complex nature of the hardships many patients are facing.  I had allowed my feeling of insecurity and “picking and choosing” to eclipse the power of my capacity to be a vessel of healing.

I realized my aspiration to be effective in reducing the suffering of others is too narrowly focused on patients, families and medical staff.  I need to open my eyes to the rocks, roots, fir trees and ferns right at hand: to embody greater compassionate skillfulness with my fellow chaplains.  Following this insight, I created an opportunity to offer an apology to each of my colleagues.

I struggle with what seems like a dualistic perspective.  I offer a great bottomless well of understanding to those I see as disadvantaged or suffering in some way.  Yet simultaneously, I often overlook the hidden burdens of my colleagues who may be enacting their own unhealed wounds.  Can I allow the creative compassion I experience in other contexts to arise within me when I am with my immediate colleagues?  Such creative compassion could enable me to respond with skill to my fellow colleagues even in challenging moments.

Talking with my Honolulu Diamond Sangha Zendo teacher, Michael Kieran, he reminded me of having “facility” in our Zen practice.  Facility is doing something with ease.  He shared that it is derived from the French word facile.  I looked up the Latin etymology of the French word facile- it can also mean “doable”.  Something facile is uncomplicated, achieved with apparent ease—Proficiency.  It requires attention, intention and practice.

May I meet my chaplain colleagues with the ease and compassion I experienced on the Salmon River trail.  Next time discomfort arises, I will pause, breathe in mossy patience, and respond with the graceful facility of a tree’s branches in the wind.  I will offer the same gracious bottomless well with my colleagues that I provide patients.  Amen.