The Methow Valley offers vast views for outdoor sits, such as from Janice Dickinson’s yard where we sat Sept. 9.
Photos by: Annie Filer, Dani Golden, Lisa McMillian, K.C Mehaffey, Pat Norwil, Jayne Schrock

For someone who doesn’t travel very much, last March was eventful.  I was on retreat at Birken Forest Monastery, in British Columbia, when Abbot Ajahn Sona summoned me to the office.

He told me Covid-19 was exploding in Washington State. He asked if I wanted to leave a day early.

Sharon Cohen guiding an online meditation, from the Methow Valley Wellness Center.

On the drive home, amid news of closing borders, toilet paper shortages, and dire illness, I hesitated for a minute, then cancelled the caterer for our upcoming Mindful Methow spring retreats in the Methow Valley.  

The Methow is a rural area east of the Cascade Mountains in Washington state, best known for cross country skiing, hiking and vacation homes.  The biggest local town is Twisp, with a population of 938.  

Like everyone else in Washington, we were practicing with fear and uncertainty.  Then three days after I got home, my elderly mother back East broke her wrist. I quickly boarded a plane to New York City, at that time the only other Covid-19 epicenter in the United States. 

My mom and I quickly settled into strict quarantine in her home in the town of Pelham, which borders the New York City borough of the Bronx. At that time we were possibly contagious because she had been treated in the first New York State hospital to receive COVID-19 patients, and I had passed through three airports on my way to be with her.  I asked her regular caregiver to go on paid leave until….when?

Sitting together online from top: Lisa McMillian,  Sharon Cohen, Marie Tracie, Janice Dickinson.

It was clear that I would be with my mom for a while, so I sent out an email cancelling our Methow Valley weekly meditation. But almost immediately, a techie member of our group offered to guide me through hosting our gatherings online. (Thank you Ron Overbeck!)    

Our first attempts online were a bit rough, and video and audio quality were uneven.  So at others’ encouragement, we switched to Zoom.  

At first we meditated together, followed by reflections.  But silent meditation seemed awkward online, possibly tying up precious bandwidth and cell phone minutes for our rural Sangha members.  We easily agreed to meditate independently, then log in online for reflections and discussion.

Zoom definitely added a personal touch of its own. Each week I removed my mother’s paintings from the wall behind my sleeping area and set up my laptop on my bed, which was just a few feet from her bedroom. 

Before our gatherings I would attempt to satisfy all of my mom’s needs, but almost every meeting was paused when she called out for assistance.  Our meditation group became an extension of my New York family, as Methow  Sangha members waited for me to adjust my mom’s television, or to help her to the bathroom.  Isn’t that the intimacy and beauty of Zoom?

Sharon Cohen helps bring together Sangha in the Methow Valley.

In Pelham I became an engaged member of a diverse community suffering and living through Covid.  New York Governor Andrew Cuomo was every day on my mom’s television trying to guide the state through the pandemic. My brother Alan Cohen’s restaurant, AJ’s Burgers, was feeding National Guard and medical people at coronavirus testing facilities and food banks. 

Lines at the grocery stores were long, and New Yorkers were reaching out to take care of each other.  As I waited in line to enter our small local grocery store, the man behind me shared his family’s grief at losing his beloved father-in-law to Covid-19.  I was in tears as I entered the shop, moved by his openness, and by his story.

It was beyond supportive for me, to share these stories with my Methow Valley friends.  The valley itself can seem like a protected bubble, so hearing my reports from New York brought the sad reality closer for my friends.  COVID-19 reminded us how much we mean to each other.

I was back in the Methow by June, and our weekly Zoom meetings continued.  But soon people were asking to meditate together in person outdoors, which seemed possible because COVID-19 cases in the valley were very low. I checked with a few people to determine there was enough interest, then sent the emails and rang the bells.  We brought our own chairs, cushions and masks, and meditated in silence.   It felt great to sit together.

Our outdoors meditation view from Annie Filer’s yard on Sept 7.

Sangha member Annie Filer said, “For me, even random in-person meetings outdoors have been a wonderful supplement to the Zoom meetings. Nothing can begin to replace face-to-face contact. Masked face-to-masked face, of course!!!   Occasionally we cancelled due to (wildfire) smoke.”

By September we got more creative.  We organized three completely outdoor silent daylong retreats in different people’s yards.  We used their indoor bathroom, lots of hand sanitizer, and limited participants to 12. 

The outdoor days were so enjoyable we plan to continue these in the post- pandemic future. Anne Eckmann appreciated one of these daylongs.

“The daylong outdoor retreat at Larry and Jane’s was very special,” she said. “It was such a treat to sit outdoors with others and focus on the sounds of the river, and wind on my skin, surrounded by a huge weeping willow, a cool barn, and forested hillsides. I so appreciated being together and connected with everyone in person.”

Elizabeth Weiss, bundled up for outdoor meditation in Annie’s Filer’s yard.

We probably waited too long, until it was already getting dark and cold, but by September we also moved our weekly Zoom sessions outdoors.

Annie Filer offered her yard for us to sit together physically while simultaneously streaming online.   With an extension cord powering my laptop, and very few props, it all went smoothly.  Up to eight people met outdoors, social distancing while wearing masks, and more meditators joined by Zoom.

Later we returned back to our regular meeting place, the Methow Valley Wellness Center in Winthrop.  Up to six people would join in person, while others joined on Zoom.  (A big benefit was that our out-of-town members could continue to participate.)

This format accommodates varying comfort levels and needs.  The Wellness Center has a good ventilation system and a HEPA filter, and we kept more than 6 feet apart, wearing masks.  Because space is limited, people texted me to see if there is a spot available.   

We also sat in Larry and Jayne Schrock’s yard, with its barn and beautiful shade-providing willow.

But then on Nov. 15 we had to roll back the clock, when Washington State Gov. Jay Inslee announced new restrictions due to COVID-19 cases rising in the state. Now we’re again not meeting in person on Monday evenings, and are back to Zoom-only until the guidelines change! 

Our group is a very much an outgrowth of the mindfulness-based stress reduction class I began teaching in 2011.  The Methow Valley is rural, isolated, and culturally diverse, and our group is not specifically Buddhist.   Teachings are presented from a variety of Buddhist sources and from Western psychology, physiology, neuroscience, poetry, and literature, as well as from the ethics universal to all wisdom traditions. 

We have offered two week-long retreats a year, always well attended.   Over the years in this small valley, our retreats, weekly gatherings, and shared lives have created space for friendship to deepen, for joys and sorrows to be shared.  

The bedroom of K.C Mehaffey’s friend, the centerpiece of her poem.

Here’s a poem, about love, loss, and the strength of community, written by Sangha member KC Mehaffey:

I sit, my lifelong friend lying in bed, cancer slowly filling her body. We take turns sitting with her.

Alone with her, I meditate, my breath, in out; her oxygen machine, in out. Tears come.  I let them. I feel my chest tighten, my throat close. My dear, dear friend, wasting away.

I can do this—sit here, be here, focus on breath, feel pain, let go, focus on breath, feel pain—by maintaining a daily practice.

For the past eight months I have maintained a daily practice with the love and support of group meditation led by Sharon. Once a week, when I am able, I sit for 40 minutes, and dial in to hear her Dharma talk.

At a daylong retreat a month ago, under the trees, 10 feet apart, we meditate. In walking meditation, a leaf falls. The river moves by. The clouds cover the sun. Everything is always hanging. I think of my friend and smile.