good afternoon,
i've been asked to say a few words about our founder, mr. peet. this opportunity has been given to me as a result of what i wrote on our website which you may have read--not the part about my simply needing a job but his curiosity and involvement with eastern religions.
i've been practicing zen buddhism for the past 23 years. having begun this path in new york, when i decided to travel to berkeley in '87 to continue my spiritual journey i carried with me my buddhist robe and among other things an olympia manual-pull espresso machine which some of you may remember we used to carry. liz paurel, who was the assistant manager of vine back then must've thought i was worth trying out since i referenced the seriousness of my coffee brewing preferences. this past july i celebrated my 20th anniversary all of which, except for a few months at domingo during our remodel, have been spent at walnut and vine--mr. peet's first store.
although mr. peet had sold the business some years before, he would come in occasionally and engage me in conversation. undoubtedly we would enter into impromptu tastings there at the counter and his focused intensity hadn't abated one iota since letting go of ownership. i felt extremely honored to have these moments with him--to be in the presence of someone who was passionately committed to quality, an attention to detail and the rest you all know so well.
a zen priest friend of mine told me she and her husband had led a couple silent retreats at the unitarian church in the 70's where mr. peet was a congregant. she said he was an enthusiastic participant in the retreats which, being a unitarian, is somewhat surprising given what is commonly thought to be a basic premise in that tradition: when arriving at a crossroads where one road leads to god and another to talk about god, a unitarian will choose the latter! i once presented him with some literature from the zen center where i reside and asked him about these matters of the spirit. however, he chose not to engage me in this way and i dropped the subject. although outspoken in the store, i found out later that he was a very private person. many of you have read his words when asked to recount his life's story. for me, his response speaks to that silence cultivated through reflection in various spiritual traditions. he simply said, "the coffee tells my story." i learned recently that he considered himself a taoist later in life and read from that literature daily with friends and caretakers.
i think about mr. peet establishing his business and the rest of us establishing ours both at work and in our so-called personal life. actually when you look closely there's no difference. it's more about our attitude which divides them. there's a famous zen story of a japanese zen monk who traveled to china looking for an authentic teacher. upon his return to his homeland he was asked, "what did you learn?" his response was, "eyes horizontal; nose vertical." the vertical represents the distinction, the hierarchy of things. certainly mr. peet was at the top and we've inherited his vision at whatever level of responsibility we now hold. the horizontal represents the oneness of all phenomena. in this way we all are of the same piece, interrelated and working together. the matrix of these two vertices is called "our life". my sense now of mr. peet in these later years was one of reflection. having left an indelible mark on the world of coffee and tea he still had to come to terms with his own mortality as we all do. in mr. peet's copy of the book zen mind, beginner's mind, which i was kindly presented, the author suzuki roshi states on a coffee or tea stained page, i'm not sure which, "when you are you, you see things as they are, and you become one with your surroundings." i think mr. peet embodied that. anybody in his presence could feel it as well.
thank you
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
eulogy for barry
i would like to eulogize my friend barry fitzgerald who died recently at the age of 63.
barry was the head of the photography department at the local paper where i grew up. i worked there during my high school years after school, on saturdays and summers mixing chemicals, developing film, printing pictures for publication and occasionally going out on assignment.
he was a kind teacher to me: mild-mannered, extremely patient, humorous and very talented. it was so long ago. i was just 16, earning $1.65 an hour at my first job in the world and he was all of 29 but a mentor nevertheless. working silently in the darkroom by feel and intuition as well as learning to wait patiently for the perfectly composed moment in my camera's viewfinder before releasing the shutter were two fundamental practices i undertook. they now feel like precursors to the zen meditation i was to embark upon a decade later.
barry won numerous awards for his work. before leaving to attend college i asked him and the other staff photographer to pose for me with their cameras. i requested that they choose their favorite lens and attach it to their respective camera bodies. barry let his camera hang lensless and struck a memorable pose. i didn't get it then but i now understand his choice. he didn't have strong preferences. he was easygoing and manifested a great deal of equanimity.
his photograph of a white horse in the midst of a darkened landscape hanging in my apartment is a reminder to me that within the dark there is light. i try to remember that when i feel out of sorts--to pause, compose and release my own shutter--my breath, and capture that moment which goes beyond picking and choosing.
good-bye barry and thank you...
barry was the head of the photography department at the local paper where i grew up. i worked there during my high school years after school, on saturdays and summers mixing chemicals, developing film, printing pictures for publication and occasionally going out on assignment.
he was a kind teacher to me: mild-mannered, extremely patient, humorous and very talented. it was so long ago. i was just 16, earning $1.65 an hour at my first job in the world and he was all of 29 but a mentor nevertheless. working silently in the darkroom by feel and intuition as well as learning to wait patiently for the perfectly composed moment in my camera's viewfinder before releasing the shutter were two fundamental practices i undertook. they now feel like precursors to the zen meditation i was to embark upon a decade later.
barry won numerous awards for his work. before leaving to attend college i asked him and the other staff photographer to pose for me with their cameras. i requested that they choose their favorite lens and attach it to their respective camera bodies. barry let his camera hang lensless and struck a memorable pose. i didn't get it then but i now understand his choice. he didn't have strong preferences. he was easygoing and manifested a great deal of equanimity.
his photograph of a white horse in the midst of a darkened landscape hanging in my apartment is a reminder to me that within the dark there is light. i try to remember that when i feel out of sorts--to pause, compose and release my own shutter--my breath, and capture that moment which goes beyond picking and choosing.
good-bye barry and thank you...
Sunday, September 2, 2007
I recently celebrated my 20th year of employment at the original Peet's on the corner of Walnut & Vine Street. I came out from the East Coast that same year to continue my meditation studies in Zen Buddhism by moving into the Berkeley Zen Center where I still reside. By way of a part-time livelihood, Peet's has provided me with financial support and the opportunity to bring my meditation practice into the world. I've often lectured and written about these two aspects as the one piece of my Bay Area life. Much has already been said about the founder of Peet's Coffee & Tea regarding his high quality standards which i try to maintain at work. Upon reflection, one can see many aspects of his work ethic being applicable elsewhere as well--mindfulness, attention to detail, using a light hand to let the ingredients speak for themselves are but a few examples.
Mr. Peet, who died recently, reminds me of the 13th century Japanese Soto Zen monk Dogen Zenji. He wasn't satisfied with the native teachers of his day (nor was Mr. Peet satisfied with the coffee Americans were drinking) and thus he made a pilgrimage to Sung China in search of someone who could impart to him the Buddha's teachings. He "apprenticed" for five years before returning to his homeland and established the first Soto Zen temple in Japan. The teachings we follow are a direct result of that transmission.
Mr. Peet attended the Unitarian Church where the mother of our Zen priest friend was also a member. That friend and her husband (Blanche and Lou Hartman of San Francisco Zen Center) led two one-day silent meditation retreats for these Unitarians back in the 70's. They informed me that during the group's orientation the day before, the congregation laughed when they were told about the guideline of silence, explaining that when Unitarians are at a crossroads and given a choice between a road to God or one to talk about God, they traditionally choose the latter! However, Blanche told me that Mr. Peet was an enthusiastic participant at those retreats. Much later, when asked to recount his life's story, he responded simply, "The coffee tells my story." I think he learned something in that silence.
One could posit that Mr. Peet was to Dogen Zenji that the "other" coffee company is to Keizan Zenji. While in the same lineage as Dogen Zenji, a few generations later Keizan Zenji became a great propagator of Zen in Japan, especially to the laity, in contrast to the former's singular monastic model of Eihei-ji. That other company, having learned some fundamentals from Mr. Peet is rather ubiquitous whereas Peet's has remained small and intimate by comparison.
Have a cup of tea (or coffee),
Ross
Mr. Peet, who died recently, reminds me of the 13th century Japanese Soto Zen monk Dogen Zenji. He wasn't satisfied with the native teachers of his day (nor was Mr. Peet satisfied with the coffee Americans were drinking) and thus he made a pilgrimage to Sung China in search of someone who could impart to him the Buddha's teachings. He "apprenticed" for five years before returning to his homeland and established the first Soto Zen temple in Japan. The teachings we follow are a direct result of that transmission.
Mr. Peet attended the Unitarian Church where the mother of our Zen priest friend was also a member. That friend and her husband (Blanche and Lou Hartman of San Francisco Zen Center) led two one-day silent meditation retreats for these Unitarians back in the 70's. They informed me that during the group's orientation the day before, the congregation laughed when they were told about the guideline of silence, explaining that when Unitarians are at a crossroads and given a choice between a road to God or one to talk about God, they traditionally choose the latter! However, Blanche told me that Mr. Peet was an enthusiastic participant at those retreats. Much later, when asked to recount his life's story, he responded simply, "The coffee tells my story." I think he learned something in that silence.
One could posit that Mr. Peet was to Dogen Zenji that the "other" coffee company is to Keizan Zenji. While in the same lineage as Dogen Zenji, a few generations later Keizan Zenji became a great propagator of Zen in Japan, especially to the laity, in contrast to the former's singular monastic model of Eihei-ji. That other company, having learned some fundamentals from Mr. Peet is rather ubiquitous whereas Peet's has remained small and intimate by comparison.
Have a cup of tea (or coffee),
Ross
Friday, June 1, 2007
a bicycle
something prosaic as movement is a touchstone to our deepest experiences. from the birth canal to intercontinental travel we move through this universe in ways which enhance our world view. when a baby begins to crawl, then walk there's no turning back. we're on our way desiring more experiences upon myriad landscapes. moving further and further away from our embryonic home we seek new adventures and the comfort of the womb. in our vertical upright position we ride into new adventures. while laying horizontal in bed, having let go of worldly things, we return to the womb .
in our youth, we often crave the opportunity to drive an automobile but have to wait until an age deemed appropriate. our parents may let us hold the steering wheel or shift a gear while they remain in ultimate control. the thrill of moving through space at combustible engine speed is quite exhilarating--and then there's the bicycle. many of us discovered our first freedom away from home via the bicycle. whether riding across town or across the country, the combination of the familiar and intimate movements of our legs as in walking with the rapid propulsion through space on this machine is somewhat miraculous. the expression, "one never forgets how to ride a bicycle" connotes something as fundamental to us as breathing.
riding a bicycle through town one sees and experiences much more than within the confines of an automobile. often getting from point a to b takes about the same amount of time as well though being in the elements lends itself to a more intimate experience.
as an adult i feel i've come full circle with regard to the desire to expand my world view. as a kid, jumping onto my bike and riding off to other lands felt expansive. now i ride what for
some would appear to be smaller parameters but the expansiveness is just as large--within.
in our youth, we often crave the opportunity to drive an automobile but have to wait until an age deemed appropriate. our parents may let us hold the steering wheel or shift a gear while they remain in ultimate control. the thrill of moving through space at combustible engine speed is quite exhilarating--and then there's the bicycle. many of us discovered our first freedom away from home via the bicycle. whether riding across town or across the country, the combination of the familiar and intimate movements of our legs as in walking with the rapid propulsion through space on this machine is somewhat miraculous. the expression, "one never forgets how to ride a bicycle" connotes something as fundamental to us as breathing.
riding a bicycle through town one sees and experiences much more than within the confines of an automobile. often getting from point a to b takes about the same amount of time as well though being in the elements lends itself to a more intimate experience.
as an adult i feel i've come full circle with regard to the desire to expand my world view. as a kid, jumping onto my bike and riding off to other lands felt expansive. now i ride what for
some would appear to be smaller parameters but the expansiveness is just as large--within.
what goes around...changes
i lent my sleeping bag to a homeless person one evening and gave him its storage bag as well to use as a pillow. the next morning i found my sleeping bag at my doorstep but not the storage bag. a few weeks later when i saw the man again i inquired after the missing bag and was informed that it had been stolen.
the other day after purchasing my new macbook i tried to fit it into my backpack but miscalculated and was at a loss for how to get it home on my bicycle. i was reluctant to ride home one-handed showing off a much coveted laptop for fear of having an accident or worse, being robbed there on the street. i asked the salesman for a bag which it so happened had a long drawstring like a laundry bag. i placed the laptop inside, drew the bag closed and draped the string over my shoulder. while the apple logo was clearly evident on the outside, i felt the laptop inside was more discreet and thus a bit safer. i could now ride home with two hands! after arriving back at my apartment i had the thought that this bag could be used to store my sleeping bag and you know what? it does, perfectly!
the other day after purchasing my new macbook i tried to fit it into my backpack but miscalculated and was at a loss for how to get it home on my bicycle. i was reluctant to ride home one-handed showing off a much coveted laptop for fear of having an accident or worse, being robbed there on the street. i asked the salesman for a bag which it so happened had a long drawstring like a laundry bag. i placed the laptop inside, drew the bag closed and draped the string over my shoulder. while the apple logo was clearly evident on the outside, i felt the laptop inside was more discreet and thus a bit safer. i could now ride home with two hands! after arriving back at my apartment i had the thought that this bag could be used to store my sleeping bag and you know what? it does, perfectly!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
my participation within interrelatedness
a friend recently asked if i missed riding my motorcycle. "at times", i responded while reflecting on not missing the direct consumption of oil in the form of gasoline. my old raleigh 3-speed gets me around as well as generous offers from friends with their automobiles. surely my bicycle needs oil for lubrication and its parts as well as other commodities i consume rely on transported deliveries powered by oil in order to reach me. consuming less makes sense.
sometimes people ask me if i miss eating "meat" (having eaten animals my first 21 years of life). "no", i respond while reflecting on missing living animals more by virtue of their slaughter feeding our carnivorous society. world vegetarianism (where sustainable) would end world hunger. i have no excuse for the leather i wear other than vanity.
sometimes people ask me if i miss eating "meat" (having eaten animals my first 21 years of life). "no", i respond while reflecting on missing living animals more by virtue of their slaughter feeding our carnivorous society. world vegetarianism (where sustainable) would end world hunger. i have no excuse for the leather i wear other than vanity.
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