Karen Maezen Miller is a author, a blogger and a Zen Buddhist priest, but don’t let any of that fool you. Underneath all the trappings of titles is a woman of heart and wit who also happens to have done her soul work. Every page of
Momma Zen will convince you, I promise. I asked Karen to talk to me about being a writer, a Buddhist and a mother.
I loved reading Momma Zen so much–it made me wish for a sequel. What books are nearest and dearest to your heart? What are you reading right now?
That makes two of us! I’m wishing for a sequel too. Life is always delivering us a sequel; I just have to wait and see what comes out of it. Right now I’m finally reading Anita Diamant’s The Red Tent which is every woman’s prequel. I consume books. I inhale them, and then I exhale them. Books are life, but when they are on the shelf they are not alive. I love them so much I do not hold or cherish them. I readily pass them on so they can be born anew. This, by the way, is a pet peeve of my sentimentally minded husband, who does not share my exhilaration in the parting. So his books stay here and my books take flight.
When you were writing Momma Zen, did you have a certain ideal book in mind to inspire you? For example, did you ever think, “If I could just write a book like ___________, (insert title) I’d be thrilled?”
No. Having avoided motherhood for so long, having sidestepped the issue entirely, I was poorly read on the topic. I consider that a good thing, since I likely would have been silenced by the talent and profundity of my predecessors. I was ignorantly blissful, which is a Zen thing. I was, however, mortified by each new motherhood title that hit the shelves as I was inching my way along with writing a proposal, getting an agent and publisher, and finishing the manuscript. I was certain that each new book that came out was the same as my book, written first and better by someone else. But they never were. It helped me to trust that my book could only be written by me, and yours by you. It’s not a race or a contest. If you’re being authentically true to yourself, no one can beat you to the punch.
How did you decide to become a Buddhist? Did you ever consider returning to the spiritual roots of your childhood?
This will sound trite, but all truth is a bit unoriginal. I didn’t decide. At that point in my life, age 35, when everything else stopped working for me (romance, status, killer shoes and money), Buddhism was standing right in front of me. On my own bookshelf in my own house I found a book that someone had left behind, the Tao te Ching. When I read it, I felt instantly at home. My direction then was unmistakable and unavoidable. It’s like when you’re thirsty, you don’t stop and deliberate whether to take the glass of water. The spiritual roots of my childhood were not my roots, but my mother’s. She was an woman of deep faith. I became a woman of deep faith. From different perspectives, we ended up having everything in common, without conflict, worry or doubt. I would say we were each other’s number one fans.
What’s your greatest challenge in motherhood right now? Your greatest joy?
My greatest challenge is what it has always been: me. My limitations, my breaking points, my anger, my ideas, my ambitions, my judgments, my fears, my stinginess, my stubbornness. My greatest joy is always my daughter Georgia just as she is. Such pure life! Such whimsy! Such honesty! As she approaches age 9 I see how eternal is our vigil; how tricky the steps. My job now is to watch her turn and not run after, to watch her jump and not buffer the fall; to see her question her place, her heart, and even her body. My job is still to be close by, just to be close by. To feel everything and prevent nothing; to let her life unfold.
What music is inspiring you these days?
The amazing songs of my friend Sally Dworsky who has just released a new CD called Boxes. Now here’s what’s so inspiring. Sally has two children who were in preschool with my daughter. She had a significant career in music before becoming a mother. We used to get away for coffee while our kids were cavorting. We’d sit there, shell-shocked, and wonder if we’d ever have a life again. She wondered if the music would ever return to her, if she’d ever write another song. Well, she did. They are astounding. My heart leaps with them.
(Jen inserts here: This blog is a big fan of Sally–I linked to her video Kitchen somewhere in the beginning pages. She’s truly wonderful!)
I think most people think of Zen Buddhists as being perpetually peaceful and calm. So. Are you perpetually peaceful and calm?
Oh shut up.
Or can you be totally type A and be a Buddhist priest?
Thankfully, there are no prerequisites.
Not that I know any type A types who are interested in Buddhism or anything.
Buddhism is the miracle cure for terminal Type As. You’re still a Type A. You still get everything done, you just don’t worry about getting it done. Seriously, Buddhism is not about attaining some perfect, other place of peace and calm. Buddhism is about realizing that the place you’re already at is peaceful and calm if you would just stop screaming and throwing dishes.
So many times I think people long for more spiritual depth or substance in their lives, but there’s no tragedy or hard circumstance to make digging deeper feel imperative. What do you say to people who feel a little listless & longing in the spirituality department?
Don’t worry. The pain, sadness, sickness, hurt, grief, disappointment, anxiety, alienation, fear and doubt will arrive on schedule. No one is ever shortchanged on pain. So too do we have the equal opportunity for love, faith, kindness, light and wisdom, since they come from within. Everything comes to you in life right where you are, as you are. I only hope you’re awake to see it. One day you might recognize your ordinary life as the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.
When do you feel most happy?
Now. What other time could there possibly be?
(March 2008) (
