"Here is my current, simplified altar: a traveling, folding altar I got in Tokyo at Soto Zen Headquarters; an incensor (rather too large) made by a Zen priest friend who is also a master potter; a portable inkin, and small mokugyo and bell; and a few figures (Jizo, Daruma) and token objects which will rotate. This is where I sit with you in the mornings at home."

“The Bodhidharma scroll above my home altar is a rubbing on paper of a stele, which is a carved stone slab. It’s one of the two oldest representations of Bodhidharma, from the Stele Forest (Bei Lin) in Xi’an, China. In ancient times they would preserve calligraphy and artwork by carving it in stone. People would then make rubbings of it, kind of an ancient Chinese Xerox machine.”

“Here is a picture of my home altar. This table is just the right height so when I sit Zazen in front of the altar, my hands are level with the sculpture of the hands.

“I’ve had my home altar for many years. The table is from a thrift store. The Buddha came from Thailand, bought from a young man who had been there. Kosho suggested a photo of myself as a baby as a way to practice loving kindness. I went to a landscaping yard and was looking for just the right piece of limestone. When the owner asked what I was doing I told him I was looking for a stone for an altar. He gave it to me. The seashell is from India given to me by my father. One of the small stones is from Plum Village.”

“It’s just to the right of my desk where I spend most of my days. In addition to the Buddha holding a stone from the Canyon Loop in Tucson, there are many pictures that speak to me of interconnectedness (waves, the wheel of existence, the cave painting, others). The poem is my own “capping verse” to my study of the Mu koan. The pieces of the tea cup in front of it are from the demonstration offering I did to my teacher. I don’t meditate in front of the altar. I like to think of it as the physicist John Wheeler’s conception of “the participatory universe.” It’s just there, perceiving itself."

“This is my altar. It has a candle, a cup for holding incense with ash from my fireplace, incense, Buddha, some seashells (which are great for holding spent matches), and pictures of my parents and my brother who have dies. I bought the ‘altar’ at World Market. It is actually a CD holder. Someone joked that since it is an altar it would be only appropriate to hold spiritual CDs so I have great zen master Beethoven and devoted monk Tom Petty inside."

“The alarm rings at 5:40. I press it once for a ten minute snooze. It takes only five to slip out of bed, dress in something dark and arrived at my cushion logged into the zoom zendo. I light a candle and illuminate the gentle glow of a multi-colored lamp across the room. On my screen I appear as barely a shadow against the wall."

"My meditation spot is a convenient corner of my home office. It started simply with a comfy cushion and folded quilt for a zabuton, set up in front of a cabinet. Then came an oversized wood carving of a Buddha head. At that point, I didn’t think of the set up as an altar. Just a convenient cabinet and meditation spot. Shortly after the new AZC online zendo format started, out came the incense burner, candle holders and bell. Passing the altar as I go in and out of the office has started to feel like entering and leaving the zendo, inspiring a sense of care as i move around the rest of the house."

"Here is my home altar. The Buddha used to live on my porch at my cabin in California. The porch was above a basement, and then the Thomas Fire in 2017 burned the house, the Buddha fell straight down onto the debris in the basement, landing sitting straight up, but with his head burned. He reminds me of Dogen: “Fearing the swift passage of the sunlight, practice the way as though saving your head from fire.” The vase on the altar is an antique Rookwood ceramic vase that belonged to my stepmother’s family for several generations. The vase survived the Sycamore Canyon Fire in Santa Barbara in 1977. I had stored it at my mother’s apartment in 2017, so it was spared the Thomas Fire."

"Here's my home altar. I believe it’s Quan Yin, the Buddha of Compassion. My husband George bought it many years ago while visiting Palo Alto, in an antique shop. He was told it was from a monastery that had closed. We’ve enjoyed it for many years, even before I came to Buddhism. Its always been in our bedroom, and it’s now the centerpiece of my home altar. Its serene beauty radiates all around. And behind it is a Tibetan thangka a friend brought from her travels a long time ago. I don’t know the symbolism behind it, but its intricate drawings are also awe-inspiring."

"Here’s my home altar. It sits on my desk. My sister, Michelle A., gave me the Buddha statue for Christmas. I’m reminded of her when I see it. She’s recovering from cancer. I send out loving kindness to her. My routine is to go out and get flowers before zazen. These are Evening Primrose. They’re all over town right now. In a book I read that Evening Primrose symbolize hope and happiness. I really want to contemplate of offer these thoughts and wishes. I’m struggling to have either right now. Somewhere else I read that primroses represent desperation. Perhaps my wish for hope and happiness is desperate in such difficult times. I am trying to let go of wanting things to be otherwise. Zazen helps with that sometimes. When I sit zazen I turn to the door next to my desk."

"If you walk down the narrow hallway my bedroom, you will dead-end at a small, quiet, light-filled space for meditation. The large Bodhisattva statue traveled with me from Austin to Whidbey Island. On the shelves I keep photographs of my Tibetan and Zen teachers to bless and inspire my practice. There is a large of Guru Rinpoche, as well as statues of the Buddha, Tara and, all important figures in my Nyingma Tibetan lineage. I have a card with the question, “What is my heart’s inmost request right now?” that was a gift from Kosho. On the wall beside the daybed is a calligraphy from the 12th Gyalwang Drukpa, one of my teachers. As I sit in this place of beauty and peace, I am reminded that we do not practice by or for ourselves. We awaken together."

"In the master bedroom, on a bookshelf given me by my wife, sits my official spartan altar, which has had an incense bowl and flowers, but presently only has my rakusu, lineage document in the purple cloth wrap from Eiheiji, an electric candle, and the cherished Shakyamuni statue given me by Kokyo. He performed an eye-opening ceremony with invisible (just to people with only 2 eyes open) ink on the Buddha. She/he was originally a gift from Kokyo’s mother Jane to Kokyo that he thinks she bought for him from the Tassajara bookstore, and is maybe from Shasta Abbey. I sit every day, wherever it is quiet, which in our small home is a corner of one or the other of my two daughters’ bedrooms. Between sessions, I try to rest in that same still space."

"Traveling through Nepal near the Buddha’s birthplace, I had this wood carving of the Buddha made for me. I placed the carving in one of those ubiquitous tin transport-boxes of the Himalayas, strapped it to my back and hiked back down…Two weeks later I was still hiking with it strapped to my back when I finally was able to ship it home. For 30+ years I have only trusted myself to handle it with the right care. I have spent a lot of time in front of this Buddha wondering if we’re going to be stuck sheltering together. Or if we will have a short reprieve so I can once again feel the comforting weight strapped to my back; but this time I don a face mask and make a run for it!"

"My altar, like my mind, is busy. The cat was sewn by my niece; the radrarushka mala was a gift from my wife’s family, the chips in front are sobriety chips from AA, and the Tibetan bell and vajra relate to my father’s recent passing. The Buddha was from an AZC mailing 5 or 6 years ago."