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For today, "Thank you, hello, I work as an acupuncturist," and "She’s my meditation teacher," will have to suffice. One who both cared for and scolded you, a female figure, the authority, who moulded you from tantruming toddler into a functioning adult? One day, after our morning filming, Sensei looks up from her natto and congee breakfast and says, "I’m going to take you somewhere special." We catch the subway, then a taxi, and soon we are at Daitokuji, Kyoto’s historical Rinzai Zen monastery. After the heart realises what it did not know and how it continued to act in ignorance, it can sing a mournful song as an offering, then turn it to a joyful one; the eyes look up, brighter. I look over at Sensei, trying to follow her lead. Keeping in step with her field, looking over at her out the corner of my eye. Tears like water slowly massaged out of a stone. For me, as the mind quiets, focuses, the body-mind becomes like an archeological dig-chunks of old metal imbedded in flesh, leakages from the heart, constrictions in the gut.

This is the case for me, and, no surprise, like clockwork these responses are mapped onto females of authority in my life; my first and oldest, deepest template for this being my mother. There are no lights, but camera and action happen next. There is power in awareness, acceptance, letting go. Often these treasures were acquired via the wealth and power of kimono merchants, whose prosperity during certain periods financed a great deal of the festival. With gratitude to Sensei, Qapel, Namgyal Rinpoche, lineage, to transmission, to the power of sangha, the teachings of awakening, and the awakening that dwells in all beings. Though great women peek through the Buddhist history books occasionally, think of the big spiritual names you know: The Dalai Lama, the 16th Karmapa, Namgyal Rinpoche, Sayadaw U Thila Wunta… So the best I hope to do as a student of consciousness is to love and appreciate my Teacher for her service, her wisdom, her talents, the spiritual work she has done. I tried to explain that I had been shopping with her in mind, to buy the best organic food, for her… Yes, but you got so caught up in your need to make me the best organic dinner, you forgot to think that I might be hungry!

You forgot to think about my well-being, here, today. As spiritual practitioners, we can think we’re well beyond commonplace gender bias-of course I’m not a misogynist, I’m a holy, woke, feminist spiritual seeker! What does it mean to be attendant to, in service of, your spiritual teacher? What do I mean by that? With my set of lenses, biases, hurts, looking at her as clearly as I can. So, when it comes to my interactions with women in leadership, a certain set of ping pong balls get set off. When our gentle time together in this tatami room comes to a close, the abbott farewells us and we move on to visit the Zuihoin zen garden. His father, the former abbott, comes by at one point. We enjoy two cups of matcha, each served in a one of a kind bowl. I soon learn that these we are using today are Shigaraki ceramics, renowned as one of Japan’s six ancient kilns. She shows me the ancient paintings, black ink on the washi paper walls, some faded, some slightly torn. At some point, I lean against a wall, and get black tar on my brand new white jeans…

If you think you’re going to get hurt, you will. She’s reintroducing the importance of the festival’s spiritual foundations, Beautiful female yoga couple and the community of people who have kept it going for more than a millennia. They have known each other a long time. My Lama field radar says: Time to move! We continue to the next float and repeat this process, visiting as many as we can, a handful, until it is time for breakfast. I film some of the detail, trying to be as quick as Sensei’s feet-they begin to carry her on to the next float. Over the past three years, I had earnestly attended Qapel and Sensei’s Zen and Chan courses and retreats. Looking out over the grey pebbles that curve, precisely raked into an ocean, lapping up against the landmass of moss covered rocks, I feel swept away. I wandered around the grocery store awestruck by the smells, colours, tastes, picking out ingredients to cook for future dinners.