The Passing of Chris Pleim

Chris was a neighbor of mine in Wayland mass. And a long time friend who I kept in touch with quite a bit. So sorry that he's not still with us. He was always a man of great optimism. Recently I'd called but didn't get through so I decided to look online. And I just saw this notice about him passing on June 23rd. His rare sense of humor and multiple insights when it comes to music, as well as the Buddhist traditions will be missed.

I’m so sad to hear of Chris’s death. I knew him when we were in high school together in Wayland, and then we became reacquainted during the past couple of years. He was whip-smart, funny, clever, delightfully direct, and a very kind soul. He taught me more about Buddhism which I appreciate. I’ll never forget the wild motorcycle ride he gave me at 16 and our conversations in the past couple years. Rest in peace, Chris.

I was deeply saddened to hear of the loss of my friend, Chris Pleim, and I was honored to attend his Sukhavati Ceremony which was both Pleimly sublime and brutally honest. I worked for Chris for about a year around '95, and although he was really just my gateway drug to Aardvark Piano, he became a close friend and an ardent supporter when I hung up my own shingle. He introduced me to David Stanwood and Piano Metrology, he showed up to just about every class I taught just to support me, he called for my advice (softening the mentor/apprentice relationship), he became a client when I started making soundboard panels, but most of all he was one of those primary members of our piano communiy that I was always happy to see and always expected to be there. Outside of piano tech, we shared a love of music, and as a Vippassana meditator, we shared a bond and he always encouraged me to join him at Shambhala. I know he was a complicated individual, and perhaps I was lucky never to fall in his crosshairs, but mostly I wish there could have been more time for Chris, more heathspan. When I think of him, I will always remember his smile. Rock the Bardo, my friend!

I knew Chris from the old days on Upland Road…interminable meetings around the dining room table...quite a cast of characters. Chris was part of Rinpoche’s sangha for a long time, and after…his whole life I guess. So long, Chris, and thanks for the memories!

Chris -- you wild man with a wide open heart.

"Hippie" was the Vidyadara's name for him, so he told me.

When I lived in Boston in the mid 80s, we would play tennis almost every week, often with Peter Lieberson and others. We always had "G and Ts" afterwards (Gin and Tonics) of which he was a master and taught me the craft of mixing, placing emphasis on the lime juice!

After moving to Boulder I didn't see him for many years until we both attended teachings with Dzongsar Kyentse, Rinpoche in Mexico about 6 years ago.

I was very surprised to hear of his death. Had he been sick? Was it due to cancer?

With loving appreciation, Travel well my friend.

Roland

There is so much to say about our very dear friend Chris and all that we shared. We were the closest of vajra brothers, as well as being Deadheads from the late ‘60s, another kind of deep, enduring bond. We stayed in touch fairly regularly, mostly by phone, albeit with long occasional gaps, and we stayed in each others’ homes more than a few times, not to mention dozens of dharma gatherings.

For now, I’d just like to offer something especially for his musician & piano-tech friends.

By auspicious coincidence, I learned that Chris was a piano student of the legendary master teacher and musician Charlie Banacos from Boston. My stumbling upon this was due to a series of conversations with an old high-school friend, Terre Roche (founding member of the wonderful Roches), who surprisingly had been a member of the NY Dharmadhatu, unbeknownst to me for a very long time. Terre and her partner Garry Dial were students of Charlie, so I learned a little about this most amazing teacher.

I mentioned Charlie to Chris, curious to know whether he knew of him. Chris was shocked to hear his name coming from me, and he launched into his remembrances of being his student. Most notably, Chris told me that his being a student or disciple of both Charlie and the Vidyadhara came to some kind of painful point. Both were “vajra masters,” and Chris felt that he had to choose to follow only one of them. We all know his choice. However, most of us probably don’t know how difficult a choice that was.

I asked Terre if she could send me a link to something about Charlie, for those of us who did not know of him. She replied quickly with the following:

"I'm sorry to hear you lost your friend. I remember the story of how he was asked to choose between Charlie Banacos and Chogyam Trungpa. I think of his story from time to time. Coincidentally, Garry put out a beautiful tribute album, which is also a book about Charlie last year. It's called "Keep Swingin'" and it's arrangements played by many of Charlie's students over the years.

"Here's a link to Garry's website where you'll find the project available and featured.

https://www.garrydial.com/

"That's the best possible thing I can think of to gift to anyone who was touched by Charlie. It's a beautiful tribute from many of his students. Garry took Charlie's series of blues lessons and contacted all of these students to see if they wanted to contribute arrangements of them. Every one of his students was very happy to contribute from their various places around the globe. Many of them are well-known in the jazz world and attribute their musical journeys to Charlie. There is a wide variety of interpretations on the album."

I am so sad not to have been able to share this link with Chris, only learning of it today. So sad for Chris’s passing and not being able to share our continuing journey, at least in the way we have. May we continue in future lives with our root guru!

With much love,
Larry

Chris and I shared a long professional relationship in the field of piano technology. I served as his consultant on the intricate art of balancing piano actions. We were united by a deep passion for getting it right—and for many years, we did just that, together.

Our connection extended beyond our work. We also shared a lifelong love of sailing. Both of us grew up summering on Buzzards Bay—Chris in Mattapoisett, and I in West Falmouth. Buzzards Bay is famous for its prevailing summer wind that builds from the southwest during the heat of the day—a sailor’s dream. It’s a place made for those who love “knocking about” in the wind and waves, as we both did.

My wife, Eleanor, and I settled on Martha’s Vineyard. Chris visited us on several occasions. One visit in particular stands out. In July of 2015, Chris was cruising on a sailboat with a friend named Beth. They made their way to Oak Bluffs, and Chris gave me a call, hoping we could sail together.

The skipper of their boat was hesitant to head out in the brisk twenty-knot southwest breeze that was building that day. That really pissed off Chris. I said ‘No problem. Let’s go in our boat!” So Chris and Beth joined Eleanor and me aboard our 30’ sloop, Prelude—a boat named by her previous owners, two sailing grandmothers who were both professional pianists. Prelude is moored in a quiet anchorage at the end of Lake Tashmoo, a place as peaceful as its name suggests.
We got on board and tied a double reef in the mainsail for comfort in the expected strong winds outside the harbor. We sailed off the mooring, through the lake, and out past the breakwaters into the Vineyard Sound. What followed was an exhilarating broad reach of 3 nautical miles across to Woods Hole with sun, wind, waves, salt spray, and laughter. We tied up in Woods Hole and walked to the Captain Kidd for dinner on the back porch, overlooking scenic Eel Pond bathed in setting sunlight.

After dinner, we saw Chris and Beth off on the ferry back to the Vineyard. Eleanor and I sailed off in the calming wind to a scenic quiet anchorage away from the hustle and bustle for a romantic night under the waxing Gibbous Moon. It was a quintessential summer day—full of wind and sea, stories and friendship. One of those special days that stays with you. Thanks for the memories Chris

My connection with Chris was mostly through Vajrayana practice. There was much more to it, but practice was the heart of it. We spent years and years at programs together, often long ones.

I think it is possible that Chris’s trajectory was straight up at the time of his death. I hope he knew what was happening to him, but even if he didn’t, I think it is possible he bypassed the bardo. He was soaked in practice over 50 years - the best practices with the best teachers. He could identify a great teacher and stuck with it. He had just been on retreat when he died.

It Is said that Buddha Nature and samsara do not obstruct each other. I don’t think it is fruitful or even relevant to worry about Chris’s worldly path. He worked with what he had, and he was transparent.

He was a beloved sangha member because he enjoyed people’s company so much, he had a great, self-effacing sense of humor, and he was well intentioned. At the same time, he could not constitutionally treat the sangha entirely as a social club. His critical mind got in the way.

This was greatly to his credit, in my view. I don’t know many people with his discriminating awareness. I remember once he said he was attracted to a certain book but hadn’t read it. He asked me what I thought of it. I told him I didn’t think much of it. We conducted a challenge experiment, which he suggested. He
opened the book to a random page and read out the first line his eyes came across. It was total bs, and we both knew it. He started to laugh hysterically. It was a delightful moment, similar to the result of a good debate, which is to get to the truth.

I feel gladdened for having known him as a fellow yogi, and I feel encouraged by his example.

I loved Chris. I had the extraordinary pleasure to spend ten days rooming with him in a rental on Whidbey Island in early June while we attended Kilung Rinpoche’s teachings on Jigme Lingpa’s Yeshe Lama. Chris died less these a week later.

One day, while we were driving to the temple in the morning during the retreat, Chris was uncharacteristically silent for about 30 seconds (Chris otherwise talks all the time). Then he turned to me (I was driving) and he said: “I need you to promise me something.” I said, “What is that?” He said, “If I die before you do and you say anything at my sukhavati, you have to tell them that “I realized, late in life, that I have been very arrogant. I thought that the rules didn’t apply to me. The rules do apply to me.”

He was very serious. I said: “Of course, I promise I will tell them that.”

Then Chris was silent for another 20 seconds. Then he said, “But that is not all you should say. Tell them that I was funny, that I had charisma. Tell them some good stories.”

That is what I tried to do at his sukhavati tonight. But I think others also have some good stories.

Chris was an indestructibly devoted student of our teacher, a decades long pillar of the Boston sangha, and a very close vajra brother to Susan and I for many years. We were deeply saddened to hear that he died, but delighted to learn that he had just spent two weeks on retreat receiving the Yeshe Lama. No doubt his devotion, humor, and insatiable appetite for dharma will serve him well in the bardo. We love you Chris.

Chris Pleim taught the first dharma class I ever took, at the Boston Dharmadhatu in 1978 or 1979. I remember sitting in the class, with a bunch of other college students from around Boston, and probably a mix of other people, all of whom seemed to be new to the dharma scene. We watched the minutes go by as we waited for Chris to show up for the 7 pm class. 7:10, 7:15, 7:20, 7:25 – a few people got up and left. Around that time Chris came in. He sat in the teacher’s chair (we were on gomdens and zafus) and he didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there. A few minutes went by. He continued to sit there, expressionless. I still remember the way his arm was draped over the armrest of his chair, the way the Vidyadhara’s arm would rest. People in the class had been annoyed about Chris being late and now started to become uncomfortable. A few more got up and walked out. After what seemed like an eternity (who knows how long it actually was) Chris started to teach. But I thought the class was good. Relatively few people showed up the next week, but I did, and have been hooked ever since.
Whether or not that was an appropriate way to start a class, it certainly was courageous, fearless. I didn’t know Chris well, but well enough to know he was fearless. And usually fun. I moved away from Boston for a long time, but lived the area again in the ~1997 – 2020 timeframe. I did have the pleasure of having Chris tune my piano in ~2011. Also, he had an on-again / off-again jazz band and he reconstituted the band to play at my wedding in 2012. I would almost always have some laughs when I saw Chris. It’s sad to see him go.

Chris offered to be my meditation instructor when I first moved into the Dharmadhatu house on Upland Rd. in the 1970's. We both liked music and early on went to see Springsteen in Boston during one of his early live tours. As we entered the theater Chris got caught carrying in some nips booze. I was totally surprised, 'This guy is my MI?', I thought.
Years later, after I moved to Western Mass, Chris came out as a visiting teacher and really encouraged our group to study Khempo Tsultrim's Mahamudra teachings. I don't think that initiative ever took root, but Chris's passionate enthusiasm for the Dharma inspired me a lot. When I did some solo retreats he sent me some of the Khenpo's teachings.
We started socializing and along with Tony Cape went to lots of music events in at the Lizard Lounge in Cambridge, and venues in Boston and elsewhere. It was great fun visiting Chris, staying with him in Brighton and just having a rollicking, joyful time . His conviviality and warmth were infectious. He was so disorganized that it could be a frustrating ordeal sometime to just get out of his house to get where we were going. Still, he was always cheerful and great fun to be with.
As time went on his drinking increased more and more. Eventually he was on some kind of crazy (to my mind at least) regimen of X number of shots per day that was supposed to lead to sobriety. He kept that up for years and though I (and many other friends) tried to help him stop - that didn't seem like it would ever happen - in this life. I had strongly conflicted feeling - wanting to help him get sober and wanting to accept him just as he was.
Ironically, it seems as though he died after a vigorous bike ride trying to get healthy - not a drawn-out spell of organ failure and morbidity. May your passion and warm heart lead you onward Chris!

Among the most dedicated practitioners I've known. Always happy to talk Dharma, argue Dharma, teach Dharma. Always truly sangha. And perennially showing up as a teacher. I'm not surprised that Chris had just been attending a program, even though I'm surprised that he was physically capable of getting there. A person, often maddening, to whom any notion of strengths and weaknesses, virtues and vices, never quite seemed to apply.

I worked for Chris in the piano business for over 10 years. He taught me pretty much everything I know now about tuning, repairing and regulating piano. I didn't mean to become a piano technician first- I just wanted to learn how to tune a piano and it was suggested I would go talk to him. But the first day I went to meet him, he put me to work. I had no experience with piano work except for playing the instrument, but it didn't seem to be a problem for him. From that day on I worked closely with him, for over 10 years. He was incredibly generous, kind, and patient in teaching me and working with me. He also drove me crazy like nobody else has, to this day. He was always genuine and brutally honest, and seemed to want everyone to be that way. He would tell me about many important things in his life including his family and friends, and about his Shambhala practice and his teachers, and invited me to events and gatherings. He didn't stop working while grieving the biggest losses of his life. He was never shy about showing his emotions, no matter how vulnerable and raw they were, even in front of his customers. I saw him face everyone he encountered with honesty as well as a persistent desire for their honesty, which I am now convinced took so much passion and care. It is difficult to describe Chris in short words, other than to say that he was truly one of a kind. He was here clearly with a mission, and he pursued it so sincerely and seriously. I wish I said this to him directly- I'm grateful for him and the way he lived, even though it often drove me (and many others) completely crazy. I have many many stories about Chris, like everyone who knew him does, and that's a great gift that he has left for us.

Chris was close friends with my dad, Stavros, and mom, Anne. He was a regular fixture at the dinner table, and my memories of him all involve a lot of laughter (and gin & tonics). He was an avuncular and benevolent presence all through my growing up- from sledding up in New Hampshire at Binny's place, to swimming in buzzards bay, to dinners in Marblehead with (his) Ann. He was a faithful and appreciative attendee at all the classical events my mom invited him to. He stayed in Greece with us one summer and I have never heard such snoring! He was one of the few people in my life who was willing to talk about death, was there when my Dad was passing. He shared his experience helping others in death, particularly Ann, and that was really valuable to me during that time.

Kalo Taxidi, Chris.

Chris was a valuable and cheerful shipmate and was crew on several of our Purnachandra trips to and from Nova Scotia under sail. He was disciplined, courageous, and always positive and inspired by the many challenges of sailing multiple days in fog and cold weather. Chris was endlessly curious, a dedicated practicioner and a loved and respected leaderof the Boston sangha.

Thanks, Chris for our journey together. Fair weather and calm seas for the solo voyage you are departing on,

Love D2

I met Chris in 1978 at the School of Contemporary Music. He was in a piano rebuilders co-op which I joined. Over the years we were in seven different piano shops, two of which I had him thrown out of. You may ask, why did you ever go back with him? Anyone who knew him would know the answer. In spite of him lacking what you would consider normal social barriers, he was a unique and exotic creature who made you think and examine your existence. He was unrelenting in that regard. We argued about almost everything. I had dinner with him the night before he died and we debated how much water was in Gin and that is why he did not have to consume the daily recommended amount. No conversation seemed to have an ending so getting off the phone with him was a challenge. Knowing Chris for nearly half a century opened the doors to traveling back in time which only long term friends can give you. I knew his ups and downs and he knew mine. We spoke almost everyday the last couple of years and the conversation would begin with me asking him “are you still alive?” Sad to say that he cannot answer yes. For better or worse I will miss him terribly.

When I moved to Boston in 1977, Chris Pleim was already considered a “senior student.” He was a very clear, knowledgeable, and caring dharma teacher, and also a very dedicated and devoted student. He practiced. Hard. He was also a wild man and a goof. He partied as hard as he practiced. His gait was little bit Mr. Natural and he had a Cheshire cat smile and a mischievous laugh. He was an accomplished musician, including in both Gagaku and Jazz, as well as a respected piano tuner and restorer (check out his website to see some beautiful pianos). As a sailor and an avid drinker, he was one of the early members of the Dorje Kasung naval branch, the Purnachandra. I lived with him for a time in a big pile with marble floors on Jamaica Pond, the former Italian consulate, where he comported himself like a young prince. He always found unique places to live and generously opened his home to many people passing through.
When Shambhala started to come apart at the seams, Chris remained a stalwart, nonsectarian, and apolitical force, only interested in ensuring access to the Vidyadhara’s dharma for both present and especially future generations, which was why he was one of the pioneers in helping to establish the Profound Treasury Retreat. He led the search for a space to hold the retreat and secured the first location in Maine, Sky High, and the second one, Ferry Beach, which has been the East Coast home to the retreat for 11 years.
Chris brought many people to the dharma and nurtured them on the path. Well done, sir. I miss your crazy, and your wisdom.

Chris was my first cousin and I”ll miss his dry wit and centered nature. There were five of us cousins growing up and we had fun times at our grandparent’s house on Long Island and later his parents beach house on Buzzard’s Bay. As adults we’ve gotten together a few times over the years; me traveling to Boston and Chris visiting me in Buffalo NY but the times I treasure were the childhood memories. Blessed be cousin🙏🏻

Such sad news. I haven't been in touch with Chris in quite a few years, yet I know he continued his passionate devotion to the dharma, to practice and study, and to teaching, all with his typical verve. He embodied the dedication of the best of practitioners and enthusiastically shepherded Boston sangha in their own practice and study (and fun!).

Last night I dreamed (it must have been after some large event or other) folks were gathering their shoes from the remaining mess after most had left. We stragglers were alarmed to find out that we had missed our ride! Then Chris appeared and offered to drive us all home.

I wish him travels filled with brilliance.

This world will be a little less colorful and interesting without Chris. I was on retreat with Chris for two weeks with Kilung Rinpoche right before Chris passed. He worked so hard to get to the retreat and to be there.

While in the retreat, he was in such a soft-hearted space which says a lot given how irascible he was by nature. Honestly, while saddened by his passing, he must have very special karma to have known so many great teachers and passed almost immediately after two weeks of intensive practice.

Chris was a piece of work, mostly in a good way. Among other things, he was a rock solid, devoted practitioner, and a hell of a lot fun to hang out with. And while he devoted most of his time in later years to advanced study and practice, he was also part of the gang that kick started the Profound Treasury Retreats, which continue to benefit practitioners new and old. So thank you for that, Chris. I know you are well prepared for your journey.

I met Chris at meetings of the Boston Chapter of the Piano Technicians Guild, ca. early 1980. Chapter meetings were often in the shop space he shared with George Crawford and others (Joe Pagano, Fred Mudge). Always a lot of fun, and happy to share knowledge about our trade. An excellent piano rebuilder!
My dharma path (different school of T. Buddhism) wasn’t the same as Chris’s; I was always impressed by his devotion to his teacher and sangha.
Although it was a bit of a physical struggle for him, he attended several Boston PTG meetings in the past year, always with wit and intelligent commentary.
I’m sure you’ll have a successful passage in the bardo, my friend.

sweetheart Chris.
Travel well. See ya in the front lines.
I love ya brother
we will always have El Topo.
js

Chris played the hichiriki in our gagaku orchestra. He was a gagaku student of Suenobu Togi Sensei. He carried a humble
yet noble character and a ready sense of humour. Having played gagaku at the Kami Shrine empowerment and at the Stupa Consecration he will be missed at such celebrations.
I am sad to hear of your passing on dear Chris and wish you many blessings and joy on your journey.
Dessie

Chris embodied the transitional (not contradictory) state: a man's man who wore women's silk, a wild child who held samaya, a piano tuner with a keen intellect. We shared a time of transition in the sangha as well, from creating a new practice center in Newton Corner to living through the illness and death of our teacher. Some saw him seething, others saw a glow. My image of him will always be that noted by Julia Sagebien one day as he sat in the sunlight: You look like a golden Nordic faun.
That he was. Chris was always quietly shining in the in-between places. I am grateful to him and like to think he will be comfortable being uncomfortable in whatever bardo he finds himself in.

I remember walking on Boylston Street with Chris sometime in the 70's, outside the new Boston Dharmadhatu. We were talking about death for some forgotten reason. He said very definitely that he wanted to die sitting in front of his shrine.
I hope that actually happened. He was a light.

Dear Chris-
Thank you for gently introducing me to the lucidity and warmth of Shambhala level 2 and much more when I lived in Boston. I was attending a Kilung Rinpoche retreat in Quincy a while back with Chris. At the break, Chris, Michael Fagan and me went for a walk outside.
I forget what we were talking about when I turned suddenly to Chris and said apropos of nothing “a yogin should not associate with a samaya corrupter even for an instant.” Chris paused, looked at me and then broke into a broad smile and repeated that line as though savoring it. I think it was one of the few times I may have surprised him.
I will miss you, Chris - enjoy the bardos!

Chris directed one of the best Level I Shambhala Trainings I ever witnessed. Just bri)liant.

I loved being around him.

Julia's Conversation with Chris Pleim

I met Chris 40 years ago, briefly dated him when I first moved to Boston in 1985, and soon decided that he was a drunken, sexist jerk. But Chris, ever gregarious, continued to contact me. Years after I'd moved to California, he attended a dharma program that lasted five consecutive summers in a nearby town and he called wanting to borrow my bike to get to and from his hotel. Over those years, we grew closer and closer. In the last couple of years, a time of increasing loneliness for him, he called me at least weekly.
As for so many of us, suffering sanded off Chris's rough edges, softening his heart. He lost adored friends, Binny and Stavros, his older brother, a woman he called the love of his life. He got cancer. His knees gave out. He drank more and more and eventually stopped trying to quit.
Despite all his quirks, Chris was fun loving, funny, intelligent, scholarly, musical, athletic, deeply devoted to Trungpa Rinpoche who he always referred to as "the boss", and well versed in the Dharma. He was a teacher, a musician, and a skilled craftsman. He laughed easily and was one of the friendliest people I've ever met. Turns out, he was possessed of a deeply loving heart. I felt loved by him and love for him and will forever miss him.