Tesshin began this week by reminding us of the tea and snacks provided to us as a gift from Houn Jeff and expressing continued gratitude.

Tesshin then shared the wonderful news that Soshin successfully entered the nunnery in Nagoya this past week. The temple had informed him before her arrival that they were planning a traditional greeting, which came as a pleasant surprise; he had actually told her just the week prior not to expect it, especially since she has not yet been formally ordained. Traditionally, all the priests, monks, and nuns gather at the gate to welcome an incoming practitioner, in this case including Aoyama Roshi, who is quite advanced in years. As it turned out, the entire community was there at the gate to welcome Soshin—surely an emotional and unforgettable moment. Tesshin joked that even he had never received such an honor! In this tradition, practitioners are welcomed at the gate upon arrival and gathered together to be waved off upon departing, a custom he finds deeply moving. He noted with a laugh that while he was waved off when he left, he certainly was never welcomed in that manner. He expressed how eager he is to hear about her journey over the coming weeks, sharing his profound excitement for her—a feeling surely shared by the entire sangha.

He then reminded us of a theme he often returns to: the vital need in our practice and daily lives to actively condition ourselves for wisdom. In Zen, we are continually taught not to become attached to anything, including the teachings themselves. Zen is by no means the only path to enlightenment; there are countless paths. Zen is simply the particular practice we feel drawn to and engage with. However, that does not change the fact that we must continually condition ourselves so that wisdom can enter our lives, wherever it may come from. That remains a deeply personal endeavor. For Tesshin, one of the things he enjoys most is exploring other wisdom traditions to see what we can learn and integrate into our own practice. One practice he personally adopts most regularly from other traditions is fasting. While fasting is not strictly standard in Zen, he finds it extraordinarily powerful—so much so that he has integrated fasting into the sangha’s sesshin trips to Japan, as well as into his personal routine. There are truly so many valuable insights and ways to learn from other traditions.

Turning to the Jewish tradition, Tesshin noted that we are entering a particularly fascinating time of year: the month of Elul. He described it as something like the “Super Bowl” of Jewish spiritual practice. Every rabbi is sweating bullets preparing their major sermons, because this is when the pews are full, offering a rare opportunity to make a lasting impression. Tesshin chuckled as he mentioned speaking with his rabbi friends who anxiously wonder what they are going to do to meet the moment each year. He explained how much he has learned from—and continues to practice within—these traditions. Interestingly, throughout the Jewish calendar, it is customary for people to offer prayers and blessings to sanctify the start of each new month, with one notable exception: human beings offer no blessings for this particular month. Because it is the holiest period, it is taught that this month is blessed directly by the universe—the Creator—fueling the intense spiritual work required. As Tesshin put it, traversing this period demands far more “diesel,” because the month of Elul functions as a massive spiritual reset. Through the High Holy Days of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, people take rigorous moral inventory, fast, offer apologies, and genuinely reset their lives onto the right track.

Tesshin remarked on how baffling he finds religious traditions that promise a “one and done” approach to spirituality—the notion that one can perform a single ritual and be set for life. Human beings, he observed, simply do not work that way. We make mistakes over and over again; we learn a lesson, promptly forget it, and require constant reminders to steer us back on course. We fundamentally need these cyclical patterns to recalibrate. While Judaism offers an intensive, month-long communal reset, in the Zen tradition, every single moment is theoretically a reset. Every breath provides an opportunity to begin again. We bring all our accumulated baggage and mental clutter to the cushion, and as we sit with our breath, we reset. We let it go and return to who we truly are. This moment-to-moment recalibration is an essential foundation of our practice—not just an annual or monthly event, but a continuous resetting with every single breath.

Yet, as ideal as that sounds, Tesshin acknowledged that human reality often falls short. In his experience, we frequently struggle with resetting. While we can let certain minor things go, there are often deep, nagging grievances or attachments lurking in the back of our minds that we cling to for years. We remain angry, stuck, or obsessed, unable to release that one stubborn issue. We might manage everything else just fine, but that single hang-up refuses to budge, no matter how hard we sit, how diligently we try, or how cleverly we intellectualize it. We find ourselves entirely unable to reset it. This led Tesshin to ponder aloud—without claiming an easy answer—whether we might benefit from introducing something into our Zen practice that carries the dramatic, unmistakable weight of that Jewish “Super Bowl” reset.

He pointed out that we do have jukai, the precept ceremony. Practitioners frequently describe going through the process of jukai as a profound reset in their lives, finding that the intensive study and the taking of the vows mark a major spiritual turning point. Furthermore, when the sangha holds the ceremony each summer, all members are invited to retake and renew their vows together, offering an annual opportunity to reset priorities, values, and commitments. So, at least at Yorktown Zen, a version of an annual reset does exist. Still, Tesshin expressed genuine curiosity about whether there are other ways to incorporate a powerful “reset button” into our practice, welcoming our thoughts and suggestions. In the meantime, he mentioned that he will be attending Rosh Hashanah services the following week, eager to begin hitting his own personal reset button.

Returning to the theme of examining ourselves and refining a practice that benefits both ourselves and others, Tesshin emphasized that conditioning ourselves for wisdom requires remaining open to insight from any source. He shared that just the night before, he had been listening to an interview with Dr. Andrew Huberman, a neuroscientist whose work he regularly follows. Huberman was being interviewed by Steven Bartlett, another figure Tesshin enjoys. While Tesshin was already familiar with most of Huberman’s regular health and neuroscience talking points, the conversation took an unexpected turn when Bartlett asked Huberman about his personal spiritual journey—a topic he is rarely asked to discuss. In response, Huberman shared a striking revelation he had received from a close friend and colleague who is both a neuroscientist and a devout Catholic.

This scientist friend pointed out a fundamental principle: our brains possess biological mechanisms that signal thirst, and because that mechanism exists, we know that water exists to satisfy it. Similarly, the brain has mechanisms that trigger hunger, confirming that food exists to fulfill that physiological need. We drink in response to thirst and eat in response to hunger. In that same way, our brains contain an inherent mechanism that seeks happiness, wisdom, compassion, and spiritual depth. Because that neurological architecture exists within all of us, we know that these states of being are genuinely possible. Form follows function; we are literally designed to realize wisdom and compassion. We might feel frustrated when we fall short, but Tesshin stressed that we must always remember that our very nature is wired for this realization.

Of course, being designed for wisdom does not mean we always make the right choices. When our brain signals thirst, we ought to drink pure water, but instead we often reach for a soft drink. When it signals hunger, instead of nourishing ourselves, we might shovel down fast food. In the exact same manner, when we feel the innate pull toward happiness, love, and wisdom, we often make terrible substitutions. We listen to the wrong voices, abandon our practice, ingest things that offer only fleeting pleasure, or foster an unhealthy obsession with retail therapy on Amazon, hoping it will fulfill us. These missteps do not invalidate our innate capacity for genuine peace; they simply show that we applied the wrong remedy. In our practice, when something fails to generate wholesome karma, there is no need to fall into cynicism, sarcasm, or despair. The ultimate proof of our potential is already right here, sitting on the cushion. Our task is simply to discern the right decisions, practices, and lifestyle that allow our natural wisdom to come to full fruition.

Tesshin found this insight deeply moving. Consider where it traveled from: originating with a devout Catholic neuroscientist, passed along to another scientist, shared on a public broadcast, and finally brought into our Zen zendo. That kind of synthesis happens only when we open our hearts and condition ourselves to receive wisdom wherever it appears. Zen is far from the only path that holds truth. We sit on the cushion precisely to cultivate that spacious presence—to open ourselves completely so that genuine insight can enter our lives.

As we enter this season of the great reset, Tesshin encouraged each of us to reflect on what personal rituals or actions we might adopt to hit our own reset button. It might be something bold and dramatic. In theory, that is what vacations are supposed to provide—a chance to step away and return thoroughly revitalized—though Tesshin confessed with a smile that for him, family vacations are usually far too exhausting to offer any real spiritual reset! While the meditation cushion is our primary, indispensable tool, if we find ourselves persistently stuck on stubborn patterns, he invited us to challenge ourselves. We can ask in our own reflections: What would it take to truly reset this? It might feel intimidating or unfamiliar, but as the days grow shorter and we enter this potent contemplative season, it is a wonderful time to experiment. With that, Tesshin left us to contemplate the power of the big reset, encouraging us to explore and experiment as we return to our practice on the cushion.