A Buddhist meditation hall at the remote Tassajara Mountain Zen Center in Central California burned down just as practitioners were in the home stretch of a sequestered, three-month meditation program in which they had been contemplating the impermanence of existence.

The March 26 attic fire swallowed up the entire wooden structure and damaged the nearby library. But dozens of other structures were spared thanks to timely action on the part of monks and staff members at the monastery who are no strangers to dealing with fires — whether they are sparked by faulty wiring or by the gusting winds in the wild.

It was fortuitous that David Zimmerman, former Tassajara director and an experienced hand at fighting previous fires at that location, was leading a retreat when this fire broke out, said Michael McCord, president of the San Francisco Zen Center, which owns and runs the retreat. Zimmerman is a famed member of a band of “ fire monks ” who in 2008 and again in 2021 valiantly stayed to defend their sacred space — even after authorities issued evacuation orders.

Under his leadership last week, the resourceful bunch sprayed hoses and dumped buckets of water to contain the fire until a crew of volunteer firefighters — stationed an hour away — could make their way up the jagged mountain on a one-lane dirt road without guardrails.

The Cachagua Fire Department posted their kudos on social media in a statement that said: “The staff at Tassajara Mountain Zen Center should be incredibly proud, their initial fire attack efforts helped keep the fire contained, buying critical time for responding apparatus to arrive and preventing further damage.”

For the monks and spiritual practitioners who visit from around the U.S. and the world, having their beloved meditation center that is deeply symbolic burn to the ground is sad, McCord said. But, he said, it is also a study in impermanence, the foundational Buddhist principle that all things — physical, mental and environmental — are in a constant state of flux and eventually pass away.

“We’d like the Zen center to always be here, and the people to be here,” he said. “But Buddhist teachings tell us that everyone we love and everything we appreciate will eventually go away. It’s not meant to induce fear or anxiety, but to teach us that we need to treasure and take good care of what we have now.”

What survived the fire, what didn’t and what’s unknown

McCord said they wouldn’t know what they lost in the fire until they sift through the rubble. In addition to the building, gone are the sitting cushions, the altar and oryoki bowls used by Zen monks for mindful, formal meals.

Several priceless sacred items might also be damaged or lost. Among them are a 2,000-year-old Gandharan Buddha statue, rescued from the meditation center when an electrical fire gutted it in 1978. It was originally found in the northwestern Indian subcontinent, said to be from the time of the ancient Indo-Aryan Gandhara civilization.

Also buried in the rubble are a century-old Japanese bell and a wooden fish-shaped drum called mokugyo, played during chanting and ritual, he said.

“We are eager to see if these items can be salvaged from the rubble and repaired,” McCord said. “Right now, we’re receiving an outpouring of support from around the world. People are really sad. But we’re relieved no one was injured.”

Colleen Morton Busch, a Zen practitioner, wrote about the firefighting monastics of Tassajara in her 2011 book titled “Fire Monks.” She said the monks are neither trained firemen nor “some burly, fit, heroic types ready to charge into a dangerous situation.”

“They are humble people who share a deep love of Tassajara and have this incredible ability to stay calm and clear-headed — to pause and think what’s appropriate and possible at this moment,” she said. “That’s cultivated through the practice of meditation.”

A history of practicing Buddhism with a looming fire threat

Tassajara was founded in 1967 as the oldest Japanese Buddhist Soto Zen monastery in the U.S. and the first Zen monastery established outside Asia. The center’s name is derived from an Indigenous Esselen word, which means “where meat is hung to dry.”

The center is inaccessible during the winter months because of snow and rain. It is also closed to the public between September and April, when it serves as a training monastery for groups of Zen practitioners.

McCord said they still hope to keep the center open this summer when the site’s natural hot springs are accessible to the general public with reservations.

Fire has always been a looming threat at Tassajara. But the Indigenous Esselen people in Los Padres had a tradition of caring for the chapparal with controlled burns every 25 years, McCord said.

“There are flowers in that land that bloom only after a fire,” said McCord, who lived on the site for several years during his training period as a monk. “The seeds pop out of the pods with the heat of the fire like popcorn. It’s part of the ecology of those grasslands.”

The natural beauty and remoteness of Tassajara, which makes it a blessing, is also what makes it dangerous, Busch said.

“When you’re there it’s all really simple, pared down and fundamental,” she said. “You hear the creek, the birds. All your senses get rebooted in a way.”

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