FURNACE MOUNTAIN BUDDHA Part 1
A winter trip to Kentucky, part one.
A limestone Buddha carved in Kentucky in 1993
Preface
Carving Buddhas for Zen temples had been on my mind since I made one for the Providence Zen Center in 1985. All I needed was an invitation.
Some years back I had visited the Lexington Kentucky Zen Center and met its then director, Master Dae Gak. In 1993, Master Dae Gak, now the abbot of the Furnace Mountain Zen Retreat Center, asked me to carve a Buddha.
The nascent center was under construction in the Appalachian foothills of Eastern Kentucky. I traveled there in my Sportsmobile, a converted E-350 Ford beverage-body van. It towed the trailer I used to move large carving stones from quarries, which held my mobile carving platform and the 500-pound rough Buddha I had prepared at my studio in New Hampshire.
The following is my diary from that 1,000-mile journey.
DAY ONE
I left New Hampshire this morning, headed for the Furnace Mountain Zen Retreat Center, where I am to carve a Buddha. My trailer easily holds the Buddha stone and my rolling platform – both tarped and roped down. The empty trailer seemed determined to teach me patience. I can't back the thing in a straight line or even a gentle curve. It hangs up at right angles, so backing up is a slow, painful process. But now with the two large objects sticking up, I could reverse direction easily.
For the first few hours, I headed south without a care in the world.
Then, oops!
"Lady," the toll operator said as I exited the New York thruway. "There's something wrong with one of your trailer wheels - it's sticking out at an angle. You lost a wheel bearing or maybe the axle is bent."
I pulled over and inspected the offending wheel. It leaned outwards at an angle like a jug-eared boy. It seems that the Buddha stone is too heavy for driving at highway speeds on rough New Hampshire and Vermont roads.
I called a friend and he helped me find a sympathetic RV dealer. It was late Saturday on the Martin Luther King holiday weekend. "Can't do anything til Monday", the dealer said. “It doesn't look too bad - but your axle is bent. We can straighten it, but if I ask anyone to work tonight, they'll just laugh at me. Come back Monday and we'll do it first thing."
DAY FIVE
I took the trailer to the shop early this morning. The back axle is as twisted as a pretzel. They told me I need a heftier set of axles to carry the weight of the block. The owner and I chatted while his men worked, and it turns out he comes from an Italian stone-working family. The idea of carving stone fascinated him. I showed him pictures of my work and encouraged him to try. At this point, I knew he wouldn't overcharge me. He also warned me about unscrupulous mechanics who take advantage of women on the road! I was back on the highway by noon.
DAY SIX
The trailer rides fine now. The mudguards the dealer installed keep the road slop from spraying other vehicles. The van and the trailer are gray from road salt. The trailer’s fenders look sandblasted.
The Buddha stone rides well too, now that I have slowed down. I feel like I'm towing a powerhouse. People ask to peek under the tarp to see the Buddha. Human beings are more curious than cats!
After 350 miles, I stopped for the night in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. I usually take breaks at truck stops, but I wanted to cook in the van, so I found a campground. The van is cozy for sleeping, rides easily, has cruise control, and a great stereo. It’s definitely the most comfortable vehicle I have ever owned.
Washed up and cooked supper while listening to Dvorak's New World Symphony. Have about 500 miles tomorrow, so I am going to set my alarm and leave early.
DAY SEVEN
The route through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and West Virginia dipped between low mountains and rivers. After ten hours of driving, I crossed into Kentucky and arrived at Furnace Mountain near dusk. The temple is about thirty miles southeast of Lexington and up eight miles of narrow ditch-lined road. It was a bit nerve-wracking after driving highways all day.
The retreat's abbot, Zen Master Dae Gak, bought 400 acres here several years ago; it includes a spectacular cliff called State Rock. He is building a Korean-style Zen temple and four cabins and a lodge.
The Furnace Mountain Temple and State Rock
Master Dae Gak lives in Lexington and drives up several days a week to supervise the construction and creation of this new community. He gives talks and koan interviews during the long winter retreat, which is currently underway.
When I arrived, folks gathered to discuss how to offload the Buddha. It was too dark to maneuver the trailer safely, so we will do it tomorrow.
DAY EIGHT
We drove to the carving site, a wide terrace just below and in line with the energy center of the temple. With the construction crew's tractor, we unloaded the Buddha stone and set it atop my rolling platform. By tomorrow, there will be a small tent around it, thanks to a loan from the two potters-in-residence, Josh and Leah.
Winter weather in the Kentucky mountains can be nasty, so was I told, and so it is: misty, windy, and cold. Yet the people here make me feel most welcome. I'm staying in the lodge with its four bedrooms and a common area with a big stone fireplace.
I share the space with Josh and Leah and the temple architect, Haskel. We practice and take meals in the Dharma Room, which is nicely finished and so cozy on these rainy days. The other residents are the abbess, Nina, and the retreat master, Dan, a former Jesuit priest, as well as a few retreatants. Our schedule includes morning chanting, meditation, breakfast at 7:45, and household chores.
Lunch is at noon, then more chores, a sitting, supper at 5:30, followed by evening practice til nine-thirty. My job is carving, so I only join in the early morning and the evening practice.
I took my tools down to the work site today, along with image reference books, a thermos of decaf, and water. The tools and books stay there. I rested during the late afternoon, cooked supper, and hung out with a few folks not involved in the evening sitting.
DAY TEN
In my first week here, I rushed back to my quarters every day, stuporous with fatigue and popping Ibuprophen for sore knees. (I saw a doctor about the swelling, and his advice was to stop mountain climbing and walk on the flat. Right!)
Now my condition has improved. In the late afternoons, I experiment with carving the local sandstone. I finished a small Buddha and gave it to the retreat master for his birthday. The abbot loves the little figure and wants dozens of them! Fortunately, I have time to rough out a few more Buddha blanks, and set up a workstation and display area in the lodge.
It's all pretty strenuous. I took another 200 pounds of stone off the Buddha and spent hours rasping some areas smooth. I am hiking a quarter mile up and down a steep path from the lodge to the work site several times a day.
There has been a heavy rain and the whole place is a sea of thick mud, red from the iron-rich soil. It gets into and clots everything. Laundry once a week is not enough! I tried driving my van down to the work site. It is a nightmare to turn around in the slippery mud. I have given up and parked it up at the temple.
DAY FIFTEEN
The rain has stopped and the weather is beautiful. In the 50s. I work in shirtsleeves and enjoy the spectacular view out through the cliffs. Looking west down the valley, cut by a winding creek, are the White Tiger and Blue Dragon ridges. The wind sighs through the pines on the cliff tops. With the temple site at about 1,100 feet, the natural energy is marvelous. Some of it must pour into the Buddha and into me, as the carving is going quite well.
DAY SIXTEEN
Today was sunny with birds singing. Relaxing after washing my hair (which despite a scarf has turned into dreadlocks), I noticed some crocuses starting to bloom. These plants are foolish to push up in the middle of winter, for Nina assures me this good weather won't last.
"We always have blizzards in February," she said, so the present good weather is a honeymoon. I work under the tent with no problems. I roll back the cover and carve in bright sun, the better to see the details and shadows on the sculpture.
The stones overpower the scenery. Ah, the stones! Limestone and sandstone boulders lie around the grounds. Sandstone is funny stuff - some is too crumbly, brittle, and unstable to carve – while others are firm and split easily. There is a quarry nearby I can visit to get bigger pieces.
Dan, the retreat master, took me on a rock scramble today. We saw wonderful cave formations and signs of erosion. A nearby creek has fossils and wonderfully weathered limestone - tawny yellow and salmon red with lovely brown striations.
The Cumberland Mountains are another country altogether, yet somehow this place feels a lot like my former farm in New Hampshire. Tractors, the smell of earth, walking around in mud… It is a lot like home.
End of Part One