The importance of sangha

Or...even writers need company now and again

A few weeks ago, the San Francisco Zen Center (where I practice) opened its doors for the first time since the pandemic began. There were a no small number of hoops to jump through—you had to be signed up for the practice period, you had to be vaccinated, and you had to self test before coming in.

But after two years away, I was willing to jump through those hoops, and on a still-dark and chilly Wednesday morning, I found myself seated inside the zendo on Page Street.

I’d been meditating on my own throughout the pandemic, and it’s been fine. Still, I’d forgotten the way being in a room with people all doing the same thing you’re doing can make you feel supported. Can make you believe you’ve suddenly gotten better at the thing you’re doing together.

In Buddhism, your community, i.e. those people sitting in the zendo with you, is known as your sangha. And in Buddhism, your sangha is one of the important aspects of practice. So much so, that it’s referred to as one of the Three Treasures (along with Buddha and the Dharma).

Your sangha—family, friends, co-practitioners—is the soil, and you’re the seed. No matter how vigorous the seed is, if the soil does not provide nourishment, your seed will die. A good sangha is crucial for the practice. Please find a good sangha or help create one.

— Thich Nhat Hanh

Early on in the pandemic, four writer friends and I began meeting on Zoom to write together. We called it Surveillance Writing, because it was a way to keep tabs on each other as we worked, but we could have just as easily called it Sangha Writing.

Seeing those writers on my screen every day, the five of us doing the same thing together, i.e. turning words into stories, made me feel supported. Made me believe they were helping me become a better writer.

We think of writing as solitary, and writers as introverts. But lately, I’ve come to believe it’s the very solitary nature of what we do that makes us crave community.

As I write this, I am sitting at a table by the window inside Page Street, the co-working space Lit Camp has just opened for writers. It’s only our first week, but already the time I’ve spent here—working alongside the members of my new writing sangha—has made me feel supported. Has made me believe that the book I’m working on has just been planted in the most nourishing soil.