At the outset of the pandemic, I entered a Zen intensive with a most unusual sensei.
It begins, “Romeo is a fish that lives in our kitchen. My daughter chose him from a pet store four years ago, when she was 11. She bought him with her own money along with a square plastic fishbowl, white rocks and a decorative accessory: a mock-wood signpost that reads “beach” in jaunty letters with an arrow pointing the way. Ever since we brought him home, Romeo’s habitat has sat in the same place on the counter, next to a ceramic fruit bowl that rarely holds any fruit.”
