7. Put your controller in pairing mode. This differs from controller to controller, so check its documentation or look it up online.

OculusQuest 2 controllers

Now we move more carefully, more slowly through the garden, and there is very little commentary but she is proud of herself for this exertion.

Ruth and I sit out on the patio, she in turquoise jacket, white pants, large-brimmed straw hat. She smiles, as she tells me how much she likes singing, how her German caretaker Norma sings with her every night before she goes to sleep. She croons a German lullaby to show me. I am astonished by how alert she is.

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As for the particular style and depth of Ruth’s practice and teaching of the dharma, her powerful love of life, her spontaneity and her insistence on bodily sensations as the doorway to liberation live on in each of us who practiced with her over the years. My love for her is partly for the teacher, but also, more intimately, for a human being who is my own private, especially cherished person. When she dies, only some of that will disappear. The rest will belong to me until my own swift or gradual disintegration. In the meantime, Ruth Denison remains as alive as the desert sun touching the pale dirt and gilding the tough yet vulnerable plants, the essential animals in this difficult inner/outer landscape.

And into my memory’s cinematic display strides Henry Denison, her tall, bearded, distinguished husband whom she adored and stayed married to for forty years. “He is an elegant man,” she used to tell me, lowering her eyes and subtly smiling in appreciation. Henry had been a Vedanta monk and remained a spiritual seeker. Now and then he came to sit at Ruth’s holiday retreat, an impressive presence among us, and once in a while he could not stop himself from asking philosophical questions designed to throw Ruth off balance. I watched in trepidation, but she did not falter. She would frown, take a breath and then point out to him that his question, while certainly intriguing, was unrelated to the vipassana meditation method that we were following. And she would direct him, once again, to practice with the bodily sensations.

Here we’re using a standard Xbox Series X controller for the tutorial, but your mileage may vary if you have something more esoteric.

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As I sit on Ruth’s patio, with her kuti behind me, scenes tumble through my mind. How many group interviews have I attended in which she did most of the talking? How many late nights have I sat here alone with Ruth, after the evening Dharma talk and meditation session, listening while she critiqued the day, made tea, offered chocolates? How often have I seen Ruth at her desk in the office, glasses slid down on her nose, mouth pursed, trying to keep track of the paperwork for Dhamma Dena—always interrupted by the next knock on the door, the next head poked in to ask for help, to complain, to report a crisis?

She coughs, gripping her side in pain. Now she focuses, holding my gaze for a moment. “There’s not much left of what I call me,” she says earnestly. And adds, “It came very fast.” Then she is gone again. I sit back, brought up short by this clarity.

Having just met Nicky, I like her immediately. She is obviously a kindly soul, and competent, blown away by Ruth (“She taught me to meditate!”) before “the change.” The change in Ruth’s condition happened sometime in August—an abrupt plunge into serious dementia, perhaps connected with a stroke.

The Meta Quest and Meta Quest 2 both come with a pair of brilliant Touch controllers that let you feel and interact with the VR world. However, they aren’t always the best and most convenient solution.Fortunately, it’s easy to use a standard game controller in either wired or wired mode with either headset (though Quest 2 is far more common).

Connecting your controller via Bluetooth couldn’t be any easier. Before we show you the steps, please note that it’s not possible to provide screenshots of all the menus involved in the procedure, because casting, screenshots, and screen recordings don’t work when Bluetooth pairing is activated. With that said, here are the steps to follow:

She instructs me: “We go out into the world. I invite us for a different view. All of us can use a little bit of thinking about this.” It doesn’t make sense, and it does make sense: Pay attention. She teaches.

I see before me the succession of dachshunds, rescued from the pound, who shared Ruth’s and her students’ lives; the roadrunners, Ruth’s favorite bird, that she fed with small meatballs and who strutted brazenly through her doorway to demand food; the rabbits, munching discarded vegetables from old automobile tires near the meditation hall; the coyotes, distantly howling, fed dinner scraps each night far out in the desert.

When I leave so that Nicky can get Ruth ready for the doctor, I stand outside the door in the desert heat and cannot move. My heart feels like a jagged rock in my chest.

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I lie among the meditating people, hearing Ruth’s voice from the front of the room guiding the meditation, always returning our attention to the body with piercing precision. And I surrender into deep relaxation, a loving regard for my weak, compromised physical self.

Out the glass patio doors, the creosote bushes dance above the pale desert soil. A small pile-up of stones supports a Buddha head. Far out, the reclining shapes of mountains lean against the enormous sky.

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We go inside Las Vegas House to sit at the beautiful cherry-wood table that Henry made and which graced their home in the Hollywood Hills for decades. I have brought tuna salad and tomato for lunch. Ruth talks of food, comments on her German caretaker’s penchant for potatoes. Classical music from the iPod speaker fills the dining room. After we eat, a young German filmmaker, Aleksandra, who has been shooting a film about Ruth, comes to say goodbye. They speak in German, and Aleksandra tells me they are talking about Ruth’s house in Germany, which her family lost during the war. “Am I homeless?” Ruth asks Aleksandra, who assures her that she is safe, this is her house, she owns it, no one will take it away from her.

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Suddenly I am transported back in time, decades ago, to a moment in the meditation hall. It is the worst year of my life—major abdominal surgery for cancer, twenty-six weeks of chemotherapy, nausea, weakness, disability. I am sitting in the back of the meditation hall, doing my best to stay upright, my eyes closed, when suddenly I sense a presence. Opening my eyes, I see Ruth squatting before me in her voluminous, Zen-inspired skirt.

I recall Ruth’s generosity as I saw her give money and goods to many Dharma projects—a monastery, groups of aspiring nuns, individual students signing up for graduate school or needing airfare to England or Asia to enter the monastic life. She supported young people’s efforts to establish their own Dharma centers—in the U.S., Germany, Canada, Alaska.

Ruth’s commemorations hang framed on the side walls. We went together to Thailand to receive two of them: the 2006 Outstanding Women in Buddhism certificate and the 2009 Sawang Kuan-Im Thammasathan Foundation plaque for the opening of the majestic Kwan Yin temple in Bangkok.

Represented here in this beautiful room is forty years of tireless effort fueled by Ruth’s urgency to awaken us to the profound teachings of the Buddha, and to return us always to the reliable laboratory of this mind-body continuum we inhabit in order to directly experience and gain insight into our reality. What has happened to that history, that journey, that map carved out through rough terrain? From what I can tell so far on this visit, it’s all so very distant from Ruth now, except in random shreds. Yet alive in the reminders here at Dhamma Dena, alive in each of us, her students.

Dhamma Dena, well cared for by one resident, managed by another, will continue to offer residential meditation retreats, inspired by Ruth’s teachings but without her physical presence. And Ruth—so cradled by her caretakers American and German—goes on enjoying guests, food, music, her garden.

Walking across the desert after Ruth has fallen asleep in her chair, I wonder: Is this beloved meditation center coming to an end? Will Ruth soon disappear?

Her teaching is finished now. I feel the weight of this awareness as I watch the sun ride higher in the sky. Now Ruth, who used to care for so many, is cared for by others—in “Las Vegas House,” ten minutes’ walk across the desert from here—with twenty-four hours a day of close monitoring, gentle nurturing.

Ruth is in a pensive mood when I come over. She sits in the easy chair, wrapped in a wool shawl, and listens to music. I join her. We receive the deep-voiced Tibetan chant backed by an orchestra, and at moments Ruth brushes away a tear from the outer corner of her eye. She looks at me trustfully, as if to say, “Yes, you know why this music makes me sad.” I do not know, but that doesn’t matter.

My experience today is so different from yesterday’s. Where is her physical discomfort, her sadness? Ruth’s condition, her mental state, flutter as insubstantially as lacework doilies. In the moment, everything changes, shifts, falls apart.

When Aleksandra has gone, Nicky makes coffee for us and brings us pound cake she has bought at the grocery. Ruth tells me, “My mother made this cake. You must try it, dahling. Very delicious.”

“Dahling, you are straining,” she whispers. “You must lie down.” I am taken by surprise. This strict, demanding teacher who brooks no whining is inviting me to lie down in the meditation hall! She gets up to gather cushions and a blanket from the corner pile, arranges a narrow bed and helps me lower myself down on it.

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Henry lived his last years in the house where Ruth is now living hers. At the end, he sat all day in an armchair, barely present, his handsome head erect, with Ruth and others in loving attendance.

In addition to Touch controllers and hand tracking, the Meta Quest 2 has native support for traditional controllers or “gamepads”, if you’re old enough to remember the Gravis Gamepad. Why would you want to do this? Well, there are VR games (such as the Tetris Effect or certain racing titles) that simply play better with a controller, and if you can’t use (or don’t like) hand tracking then a standard controller can be a more comfortable away to operate media apps or the web browser, compared to having a touch controller strapped to your wrist. Whatever the reason you want to use a controller, you can do it thanks to Meta’s decision to add this feature to their headsets.

And I remember my visit to her last year. We traversed the garden as she told me, “I’ve invented a new irrigation system that saves water; I just carry a big bottle around here in my basket and pour it only where it’s needed, so I don’t waste any.” Leaning, she reached to pull dead blossoms from a potted plant. That was before “the change.”

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I’ve come over to the kuti, the remodeled chicken house that Ruth previously used for her office, interview room and sleeping place. I sit out back on a dusty old chair, on this covered patio, looking past her garden to the desert stretching to mountains reclining against brilliant morning sky. This view I receive like an old friend, after thirty years of retreats here with Ruth, now in her nineties.

Now you can use the controller with apps and games that are compatible with it. If you want to know whether a given game or app supports a controller, head over to its store page and if it says “Supports Gamepad,” then you’re good to go.(Image Credit: Tom’s Hardware)

Meta Quest headsets (both versions) let you use your bare hands through the hand-tracking feature, which is great with certain games (e.g. Waltz of the Wizard) that are designed for hand-tracking in particular and media apps or the web browser, where you don’t necessarily want to grab a controller ever few seconds to scroll down a page or pause something.

And she gave of herself without limit, at any hour of day or night, building Dhamma Dena room by room. She could be as demanding as a Prussian officer, and she could bring joy to many people—instructing, caring and engaging with an intense focus on life’s delights, its many snags and bumps, its sometimes glorious expansiveness, here on this desert soil.

She is so cheerful and available that I take her for a walk in her garden. She holds onto the handles of what she calls her “motorcycle,” an upscale rubber-wheeled walker with a carrier basket, and we push around among the trees, I poised to catch her in case she trips.

Nicky brings Ruth into the dining room in her wheelchair. Greasy straight hair (Nicky explains that Ruth had had a massage with oil the day before), vacant eyes that glance off—here for some seconds, then peering into space. Ruth addresses Mister as if she can see him, although he is in the next room, invisible to her. After both Nicky and I announce my presence, Ruth says my name but it’s unclear if she recognizes me or is just repeating what she heard, without comprehension.

Las Vegas House shines, newly cleaned and polished. The formerly wild tomcat, Mister, looking magnificently fluffy and content, lies sprawled asleep on the couch. Nicky, the caretaker from Joshua Tree, tells me Ruth is somewhat ill, will be going to the doctor soon, but I can have a short visit.

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I sit before her as, haltingly, Ruth tells me about something traumatic that happened in the middle of the night—how the “wind at the corner” was blowing in every direction. Then she drifts off into silence and her eyes search the walls of the room. What is she seeing?

I stay for an hour, most of the time just sitting with Ruth, listening with her, as the music changes to Gregorian chants. “Is that Tibetan?” she asks, and I answer, “No, it’s European, it’s Christian.” We don’t talk much, although she does tell me about the Russian officers who sometimes come to visit her. (This is a disconcerting hallucination, given her history of abuse by Russian soldiers in defeated Germany.) I think she’s just making sure I know about this visitation, not asking for my help with it. In our companionable hour, I realize how much I love this small, feeling person. I am content just sharing the music with her.

While we didn’t see it documented anywhere, our Xbox Series X controller has a USB-C port, and our Meta Quest 2 has a USB-C port so, you can see where this is going. It turns out that this totally works, and we could activate menu choices and scroll up and down text pages using the controller by simply plugging it in. We also made sure there were no batteries in the controller, so there was no doubt the magic was happening over the cable.

Stepping outside the meditation hall, facing west, I sink into a metal chair to watch the sun drop behind the mountains. Slathers of white cloud float on pale blue sky, lit from below with gold. Then the light changes to pink and the clouds congeal into orange pillows against robin’s egg blue. Coolness in the air. Silence. End of the day at Dhamma Dena. Color deepens as great scarves of scarlet are flung across the horizon. Finally, the whole sky is on fire!

So much of what I do as a Buddhist writer and teacher is informed by Ruth’s example and teachings. She opened the door of the Dharma to me. I try to pass on her dedication and bright, joyful spirit.

When I can walk again, I go across the desert to the meditation hall. Sitting in a comfortable chair, I look at what Ruth has made. This space has been so carefully created over many years—the giant oriental rug before the altar, the two beautiful Kwan Yins and seated Buddha, and above them on the wall the five-foot-diameter, round mosaic made by Ruth of tiny squares of glass, some of them gleaming gold in the afternoon light.

Officially, Meta lists “Bluetooth 3.0 Class 2” controllers as compatible. In practice, if you already have a controller there’s no harm in trying it with your Quest to see if it works. However, if you’re looking to buy a controller to use with your Quest, it’s essential to do a web search to see whether it works or not.