Notes from the Road

2026-08-04:  Growing Into a Name

When I was born, my mother tried to name me Sarah--a name my father immediately vetoed.  Earlier this year, while chatting on the phone, I finally asked him why he'd felt so strongly.  After a thoughtful pause, he surprised me by saying that he simply knew it wasn't my name.  He doesn't remember why Julie became my mother's second choice, just that it generated no objections and, therefore, the matter was settled.  If I'm honest, though, I've never really felt like a Julie; I just didn't know who else I might be.

Fast forward to 2019, when our current Gomonshu, Kojun Ohtani, last visited the United States and held a small number of confirmation ceremonies (kikyoshiki) where sangha members had the opportunity to receive their homyo or aspirational Buddhist name directly from Gomonshu-sama.  At the Nishi Betsuin in Los Angeles, during my kikyoshiki, I was given the name Shaku Jikyo, or Compassionate Teaching.  Looking back on that ceremony, I remember the chorus of voices taking refuge; I remember the act of symbolic tonsure by the Gomonshu-sama; I remember experiencing something profoundly meaningful.  

If I'm honest, though, I didn't initially connect with my homyo, either.  While still in the hondo in LA, I remember looking at the official card with my new name, and listening to how Bishop Harada and Rev. Wondra translated it contextually, thinking, "Really?"  Once home, I remember looking in the mirror, thinking, "That doesn't seem like me." Yet I remained grateful for the experience.  

For several years, however, I didn't use my Buddhist name at all.  When I started giving more regular Dharma talks, I chose to actively try on my name--to sit with it and use it in the smallest of ways, such as on the cover slide of every talk I give and every class I teach.  Even then, however, I hadn't fully settled into my name.  That changed unexpectedly in 2026 after an article I wrote for Everyday Buddhist prompted a comment from a reader that made me stop and think. Looking back, I realized that I had already begun growing toward the aspiration expressed in the name, Compassionate Teaching. I also recognized that I would likely be growing into this name for the rest of my life--and that felt right.

In a sense, just as my father somehow knew that Sarah wasn't my name, I gradually came to recognize that Jikyo is--so much so, in fact, that I've chosen to keep it even though I could've requested a new homyo when becoming a Certified Minister's Assistant next month.

A note about Buddhist names:  My understanding is that for affirmation ceremonies (kieshiki) led by the BCA Bishop, a sangha member may frequently propose one character for their homyo while the Bishop selects the second which gives the overall context.  In contrast, my homyo was fully selected by the Gomonshu.  In a sense, Jikyo was as much an externally granted name as Julie.

2026-06-26:  Remembering Robert A.F. Thurman

(August 3, 1941 - June 16, 2026)

While I cannot claim any deep personal relationship with Tenzin Robert Thurman, I nonetheless felt connected to him through his work, which has floated in and out my life for twenty-eight years. At some point, he simply became "Bob" in my head.  For this reason, when I learned of his recent passing, I found myself rattled.  I needed to sit down and reflect.

I originally encountered Bob's work through his translation of The Holy Teachings of Vimalakirti from Tibetan into English in my very first undergraduate course on Buddhism back in 1998.  By the time I graduated, I would study Buddhism with multiple teachers; that text resurfaced again and again as required reading--and rightfully so.  

In many ways, The Holy Teachings of Vimalakirti walked alongside me as I stepped more fully onto the path. 

As I open my old copy and look back, I see how carefully my younger self highlighted this precious text and wrote her early understandings in the margins.  Not only do its covers house the sutra; they also house my early awakenings.  Some were but the first steps toward deeper understandings as the years passed; others remain just as true to me today. 

The last time I saw Bob in person was at U.C. Irvine for a conference honoring and celebrating the 80th birthday of His Holiness the Dalai Lama.  That was nearly eleven years ago.  Like everyone else, I made sure to take a photo of His Holiness.  Looking back, however, I'm grateful I also thought to capture this moment of Bob in reflection while speaking--not simply because it's a photo of him, but because it also shows others listening in rapt attention.  Together, both aspects of this image represent how he remains situated in my memory.

Although I read several of Bob's books, it wasn't until 2017 that I purchased my second one, Infinite Life: Awakening to Bliss Within.  I knew immediately it was something I'd want to keep with me--and I was right.

Years later, during the pandemic, I would sit outside on my back patio in the mornings and read from Infinite Life over coffee.  I think that's likely the point at which he became fully "Bob" to me.  As someone navigating the isolation of the pandemic while quarantined alone, I deeply appreciated the generosity and warm invitation of his words; they helped me retain a sense of connection--to embody, in a small but real way, the truth of interconnectedness even in extended solitude.

In the days since Bob's passing, His Holiness has said “Bob lived a meaningful life and has left behind a legacy that will continue to inspire future students of Tibetan Buddhism and culture for generations to come.” [link]   How true that is.  I am but one example.

Thank you, Bob.  

Namo Amida Butsu.