An Adventure Story About My Temple Life

Memoir of a North Adams Based Daoist Monk

By: Charles Giuliano - Jul 16, 2024

 

At the age of 65 it took two and a half hours for Michael McGrath to ascend the stone steps to an ancient Chinese temple. A year later, having endured the hardship and discipline of Daoist training, he would leave the mountain and return to loved ones on Cape Cod as Cheng Tong. It is a name bestowed on him by the Abbott. That identifies him with the brotherhood of the temple.

Initially, the Abbott predicted that he would wash out in a month. The training and austere lifestyle that he describes with exquisite detail, humor and insight in this remarkable book, is just that daunting. He outlasted younger initiates as the ranks thinned and tightened.

Before taking on this late-in-life spiritual quest he had already pursued what for most people would define a lifetime. He came of age on Cape Cod where the family fished and harvested clams. Nature, the shore and dunes were his habitat. A natural athlete he played quarterback for a winning high school football team until he blew out a knee in sophomore year. Coming from a devout Irish family he was to be its designated priest. That didn’t pan out but was an indicator for a spiritual quest, initially through Buddhism and qigong training, that predated time in the temple.

Initially,  he practiced law but was unsatisfied. He swapped that for a chef’s hat creating a locally sourced weekly menu for one of Provincetown’s leading gourmet restaurants. A core of regulars including summer celebrities came to enjoy his exquisite food. He is still an avid cook, mostly Asian, but just for himself.

Michael often speaks of his three daughters and grandchildren. They and their husbands are employed in aspects of criminal justice on Cape Cod. While on the mountain he kept in touch by smart phone. There is just enough intermittent juice to charge devices and send text messages. He kept a journal of his retreat which formed the notes for this book. It’s why there is so much crisp and compelling anecdotal detail.

Seven years ago he bought a fixer-upper in a working class neighborhood in the former mill town of North Adams. During that first year he returned to China as he has several times since that initial year. With each visit he learned new forms and perfected those he knew.

Having finally settled in North Adams he took on the task of renovating and updating the house as well as clearing a spacious yard of invasive scrub and decades of detritus. From the roadside parking space one descends steep steps to approach the house.

Slow-by-slow as he often says he set out to transform this derelict property into a garden and oasis for daily training and meditation. His first effort was to construct a platform on which to train and eventually teach. Initially, there were a few students, three of which endured the winter. Now he is fully booked year round just leaving Sunday for chores and rest. He was invited to teach as an adjunct for Williams College. That largely consisted of faculty and administrators some of whom continued as private students.

As it was at the temple, the day begins at 5 AM with meditation, exercise then breakfast. While on the deck playing gigong he is met by a squirrel. She has come to expect, no demand, a ration of honey roasted peanuts. There is a ground hog with which he shares a banana.

Pre-pandemic there were weekly dinners for artists and friends at a Chinese restaurant. That’s where I first encountered him with some skepticism. Just who was this guy introduced to the group as a monk and wearing Chinese garb?

During one dinner I was seated next to him while we watched a ball game on TV. We discovered a mutual interest in Boston’s teams. In my typically abrasive, curmudgeonly manner I asked “what’s with the outfit?” With typical patience in dealing with a grasshopper he spoke a bit of Daoism and his training.

Following up I invited him to lunch to learn more. There was immediate compatibility and we have met for lunch once a week ever since. Given his austere regimen and a full teaching schedule, he describes our encounters as his entire social life.

He is a vivid and colorful story teller as we never run out of lively conversation. I often speak of my involvement with writing about the arts. He insists that our sessions have been a learning process for him as well.

Of course I wanted to know about Daoism but more as a friend than disciple. I often came to lunch with a personal agenda of gripes and groans. As I unloaded he would listen with patience and attention. After I vented he would then guide me back on track with choice observations and suggestions. With time there has been ever less of that, now mostly sharing sports, news of the day, and the nation’s truly grave existential crisis. His sharp legal mind brings insight to political conundrums. While the insights are valuable we share a grim prognosis.

At some point I began weekly training with basic moves, learning to breathe and raise chi in my body. Starting so late in life it was helpful and made me feel good to be paying attention to my body.

Then the pandemic hit just as I succumbed to extreme spinal stenosis. There were complications involving four vertebrae and I was rendered helpless. My wife Astrid was charged with my care as well as running the household. We were totally stressed and Michael volunteered to drive me to the hospital at 7 AM. It was a cold March morning as he kept me distracted with a stream of truly terrible jokes. He gave me a book of daily Daoist readings which proved to be helpful during convalescence.

After a month of quarantined rehab I returned home. Astrid had visited outside my window and on a very restricted Easter Sunday. Michael would come and sit with me giving Astrid some time to shop and run errands. With time, and daily PT, I have gotten back on track. Eventually, I was able to get into the kitchen and resumed my share of cooking and washing up.

I am ever grateful to Michael and his use of Daoism to show me a path through to dealing with adversity. One often applied insight is that “It’s only weather.” It’s what the Abbott said when training in severe conditions. It’s also why I have come more richly to enjoy a fine Berkshire day.

All of what he describes in this richly compelling book I have heard in our regular conversations. He is a truly remarkable story teller. What I most enjoy about this book is that I can hear his voice. It is written just as he speaks which is a rare skill and gift.

While this remarkable old man’s tale was told to me in weekly increments over six years it is a delight to have it presented as a seamless narrative. I was surprised that some details, while told to me directly, have been left out of the book. That stems from his respect for privacy. He feels entitled to tell his own story but not those of his peers and mentor.

The initial motivation for this very personal story of a spiritual quest was for his family and students. It was a means of articulating and clarifying why he had made this decision.

What has resulted is an engaging, amusing, and insightful tale of an old man’s last ditch, life-changing quest. It has a broad appeal beyond the inner circle of family, friends and students. Our society is obsessed with youth. This is a rare, remarkable, uplifting and life affirming story of old age. We get to share the adventure of a man who proved that it is never too late to overcome adversity with a vision quest. In than sense this is a warrior’s tale.

Ad astra per aspera — "to the stars through difficulties."

Along The Way To Wudang: An Old Man's Daoist Life

Link to Amazon  above.