I have something I want to talk to you about. And these stories give me a chance to talk to you about things I couldn't talk to you about otherwise, because I would have no excuse I'd have no motivation to talk to you. But someone wisely left these stories for us, which are rather troublesome, and so I have to talk to you about them, and it actually gives me a good excuse as I said, to talk to you about things I couldn't say otherwise. You would have to really press me to get me to talk about this kind of thing under normal circumstances, or some great opportunity would have to present itself.

[01:27]

Such opportunities will present themselves if we stay together long enough. Even after I die, such opportunities will present themselves. It's not necessary in my lifetime or Suzuki Roshi's lifetime or even your lifetime. Can you hear me in the back? Someone asked me yesterday about the Absolute. What's the meaning of such a phrase or word? It's not useful. What's absolute? That's right. That's correct. But if you say everything is relative, that's not right. If you say, if you, on the other hand, are practicing to realize the absolute, that's not right.

[03:01]

So what do we mean by talking about relative or absolute? If you sit up straight, maybe, that's absolute. If you slouch, that's relative. If your mind is always discriminating and you have no real experience of anything, that's relative. If you have some sense of things beyond their changing and coming and going, that's absolute. But if you practice in this realm of

[04:09]

absolute, trying to realize the absolute and shun the relative. This is samsara. What these ancient masters are speaking about is something more than that. When Suzuki Roshi, as you know, I think, before, just before or shortly before Suzuki Roshi died, I asked him, where will I meet you? And as you know, he brought his hands out from under the covers and bowed to me. That's relative and absolute.

[05:16]

Just bowing. That's relative. This is absolute. Not just this. He also bowed. But answer or his response isn't limited to bowing or moving the covers or his lying there nearly dead. suffering. There's no beginning and end for this response, and I always meet him when I bow, and in everything I see. And Tsukiyoshi had a favorite poem, or was particularly fond of

[06:21]

Setso's poem which ends this koan, this case number two of the Hekigan Roku. So this poem is trying to suggest for us what the usefulness and trap of relative and absolute is. Suzuki Roshi liked this poem.

[07:30]

so much that when he first showed it to us, presented it to us, maybe ten or twelve years ago, he drew it, each character of the poem he drew on the blackboard, and even got out a book of photographs of Japanese and Chinese buildings. I talked about this poem a little bit. a month or so ago here, and showed us how, from a Japanese house, you look out and you see the roka, or the porch, or engawa, it's called, and then there is often a railing. So it's translated as beyond the cliff sometimes, and sometimes it's translated as outside the window. But I think literally it means beyond this railing. So he was quite interested in how you sit and you see the near... That's already separated from you, but it's quite near. And beyond that you see distant mountain.

[08:55]

As I said, too, Engo makes this kind of thing maybe too clear. Someone asked about Engo yesterday. And, in fact, Engo's disciple burned the Blue Cliff Records. He thought it, told people too much, so he burned it. was lost for several centuries, I believe till about the 16th century. And Engo lived in 12th and 13th century, I think, and Setso in the 11th and 12th. And then it was put back together, and supposedly Dogen

[10:03]

Zenji brought a handwritten copy back to Japan with him, which was called One Night Hekigan. Hekigan is an interesting word because it could almost be translated green gulch. It means literally green gorge or something like that. Maybe we should call Green Gulch, Hekigan-ji. Green Gulch Temple. Blue Cliff Temple. Blue Cliff, I think it means gorge, actually. Anyway, Dogen brought a copy called Hekigan, One Night Hekigan, because he supposedly copied it all out by hand the night before he left.

[11:06]

which is unlikely, but maybe so. And then that was kept hidden in a temple until quite recently. I think Daijoji, I don't remember. I think it's a temple I visited, let's say, a temple in the mountains near Eheji, but I'm not sure. Anyway, it was kept there, and no one ever looked at it because it was said you would go blind if you looked at it. But D.T. Suzuki, being modern and brave, got permission to look at it, and he published a Japanese edition of it twenty years ago or so. Anyway, this poem is a wonderful example of this world. It begins with the same lines. The real way is not difficult.

[12:37]

Words and words point to it, phrases point to it. The one, one has many ways. Two ways are not two. At the edge of the sky, the sun rises and the pale moon sets. Beyond the railing, the mountains are blue and the water cold. Cold streams. From the skull, no sensation. Sensation is gone from the skull.

[13:43]

Yet will joy arise in it? Will joy arise? The dry withered tree moans like a dragon. Difficult, yes, difficult. Relative and absolute. Preferences and cloudless clarity. Friends, find out for yourself. I don't know how useful such a poem is to you, but maybe the more you've practiced and the more you've asked yourself questions like the question, like, what is real? What is reality anyway?

[15:23]

Why should I sit zazen? Anyway, again he starts out with the real way is not difficult. Real way, the absolute or something. And words point to it and phrases point to it. and gestures point to it. And then he says, one has many ways. Maybe emptiness is form. And he says, two ways are not two. This is particularly interesting. Two ways are not two. If you can understand that two ways are not two, understand it by your actual, in your actual experience, this poem will become

[16:59]

quite clear to you. So Suzuki Roshi says, sun and moon may not be one, and sun and moon may not be two. What is the standpoint of sun and moon, not one and not two? Of two ways, but not two. Or as Engo said, here he's giving you a double head with three faces. What does Engo mean, a double head with three faces? This is the utter darkness I've been talking about. Ingo says that birds

[18:23]

He says something like, birds feathers in the air or fill the air or something, and fish stir up the water. Or as Dogen said, dragons don't live in pure water. There's nothing to eat. And sunrises and pale moonsets can have many meanings, but it suggests our practice, our life and death, enlightenment and delusion. And Blue Mountain is maybe absolute.

[19:39]

and railing something near, you know, what is distant and far. Even though it's far away, Blue Mountain is far away, water is cold. Maybe this is some mountain temple, and from the Blue Mountain a stream comes. So from the mountain such a mountain the water will always be cold, like Kasahara Creek. And that's maybe the water, the temple, this mountain temple is using. So which is which, relative and absolute? That Hekiganroku was named for a brother... the brother dis... I forget, but Dogo Enchi

[21:13]

and his brother, Dharma brother, Tozan's, Dogo Enchi's Dharma brother, disciple, was named and he had a temple in which his study was called the Green Grotto, Green Gorge. And it was a couple of hundred years later that Engo, living in that same temple, gave the lectures on Setsuo's compilation, which became the Hekigan Roku, the Blue Cliff Records. But originally it was a temple of Kassan Zenne. And Kassan Zenne was asked a question, what is the state of Kassan?

[22:44]

What is the situation of Kassan?" And he said, The monkeys clasp their young to their breast and return behind the blue mountain. A bird with a flower in its beak lands in front of my green grotto in front of my ekigan. Anyway, this is quite a famous poem. And the monkeys clasping their young to their breast, returning behind the blue mountain, is same kind of meaning as blue mountain and cold water. or same kind of meaning as utter darkness, as I mentioned to you last night. Our stream of blood which flows in utter darkness, withered

[24:15]

tree which can come to life, which the wind, you know, maybe makes it moan or dragon stirs. There's also a very famous poem going back to Yaksan Igen and Tozan Ryokai and other teachers in our lineage. I mean, Suzuki Roshi talked... One thing that was interesting to me at the time is Suzuki Roshi talked about seeing skulls as quite a common occurrence. We don't see them so much here, he implied, but in a place like Japan, which has been settled for a couple thousand years

[25:36]

1500 years or a long time, it's quite common to be walking in a field and see a skull. Sometimes someone was buried there or died there or a farmer turns up bones. And they sometimes bury people by leaving them out, you know. So, I don't know about Japan, but that's a theme in Buddhism. So, to see a skull makes you think, relative or absolute. Is there any life left? What is consciousness? What is our life? That dead skull, where has his consciousness gone? Is it part of that utter darkness? Blue sky is there. Sun is rising and setting. Moon is rising and setting. Grain is being

[27:04]

harvested and stored. Soon we'll have the flower festival. And traditional idea in Japan is that the flowers are the ancestors of the rice crop. And flowers moved down talking with Sterling about this last year, he says it may technically be true that flowers occur in certain kinds of circumstances which later make possible other kinds of plants which can be then eaten. Anyway, they have the idea that the flowers, the spirits of the flowers came down and made the rice crop, and rice crop made us possible. And so the ancestors of each of us are worshipped with ancestors of the rice as the flowers. And the birth of Buddha is mixed in there. So April 8th is Hanumatsuri, Flower Festival, so that we

[28:26]

In Japan, they mix up our ancestors and Buddha's birth and family, our family and Buddha's birth and flowers and the spring rice crop. So we'll do that, you know, April 8th. We'll go up to the horse pasture and shoo in a new era of Buddha. As I said, Dogen said, pay your respect to the great body of Buddha, or continuous being, and realize your nirmanakaya, realize your shakyamuni, Gautama Buddha.

[30:00]

This poem, you know, can give us some feeling for that being which we are, in which distinctions between skull and withered tree and joy and life and preferences and clarity at relative and absolute disappear. Whereas such distinctions are gone. We no longer create outer and inner subject and object.

[32:35]

I don't know how to express. Realizing everything is like dew or lightning flash. is relative and absolute. And only when you fully Realize that. By realize, I mean it's the characteristic of your every action. It's clear from your actions. You act and live in this world knowing that truth. Then you can understand Yogacara philosophy of mind only. Because you see that do is your own mind,

[34:01]

and you're creating feelings and thoughts from that one mind. But, you know, we need... It's interesting to see the example of Daito Kokushi, which I mentioned last night, how we need permission just as surely as we need parents. For our rebirth, maybe, we need permission, as surely as we need parents. But that permission in Zen is given to you, to give yourself permission. This is, I think, a difficult point to understand, because we don't want to feel dependent. When we know intuitively we're independent, as Sally, my daughter, saying to me when I said, you belong to me, I made you. She said, it's too late now, I belong to me.

[35:41]

We know we're independent like that. And yet Sally is independent and yet she had to have parents. And so utter darkness is your own independence and also that dark stream of blood. by which you can realize yourself. We have some great opportunity to find out the actual nature of this existence, not one, not two even. not by outer or inner, by what can we realize this? So, Daito Kokushi had been given by his teacher. This story is interesting, too, because it still exists. It was written down, these poems and statements, and it still exists at

[37:13]

It could be a forgery, of course, but probably it's not. Though some things about his life are not true. Some things that are said about his life. But Omon, anyway, he was, the Daitokokushi was given Umman's barrier. Umman was famous for his one-word answers. And the Umman school had three barriers, three questions. What includes the whole world? I don't remember the questions exactly, but basically they're asking, what is emptiness? What is the absolute?

[38:14]

What is practice or realization? And what is phenomena? What is emptiness? What is realization? And what is form? Are the three barriers. So probably it was this he was working on, these three barriers. What is emptiness? What is Realization and what is phenomena, form? Phenomena is wave following, what is wave following wave is third question. Second question is, what is something about flowers I can't remember. But basically it's emptiness, realization and form. Absolute, you and appearances. When we say absolute, we say no mountains, no human being, no you, no self. Nothing you can say is self or mountain. When we say appearances, relative, we say there is mountain and flowers and you.

[39:42]

So, Taito Kokushi was working on this problem and he had a big experience and he wrote down his poems. Well, first he ran to his teacher's room and told him and His teacher said, I had a dream last night that Unmum came to visit me. You must be the new Unmum. And Daito Kokushi couldn't stand hearing such a thing, so he covered his ears and he ran out of the room. But then he composed these two poems, you know, which he brought back. The poems are all about, you know, East, South, North, West, every road is open and the sun is shining and free activity, et cetera, you know, the azure sky. Anyway, he felt good.

[41:14]

His teacher said something very subtle. He said, reading these poems about, you know, all this free activity and shining sun, his teacher said, now you have cast away brightness and joined yourself to utter darkness. So that's something more than the poem said. But he says, now you have eye can see. Now you have cast away brightness and joined yourself to darkness. And then he said something even more interesting. He said, you are not me. You are not me. You are better than me. So he freed him from him. You have your own permission now. You are not me. You are better than me. Don't look to me." And then he said, "...now with you my line is fully established." So he pointed again at you.

[42:48]

you as lineage, you as that stream of blood in darkness, you. Now with you, my school is firmly established." And then he said, "'But before you teach, you must mature for twenty years.' So Daito-Kokushi went into retirement for 20 years. So the last statement is about you, Daito-Kokushi, specifically what you should do in this lifetime. You should teach, but first be in retirement for 20 years. This is real transmission. This is Daito Kokushi's, Daio Kokushi, the teacher, knowing what to do, not to.

[44:07]

So our great problem is the same. We may establish some great Buddhist institution here, or some healthy community, which is quite helpful to us for our lifetime, for the years of our practice. Zen Center may be a place where many people practice Buddhism in this decade or several decades, and it may be very useful

[45:23]

in that way. But that's not so important, you know. And the important thing is, will you realize, will you join utter darkness and continue this stream of blood, continue Suzuki Roshi's way, Dogen's way, Tozan's Seigen Gyoshi in Sixth Patriarch's Way, Buddha's Way. You must do it. No!

[46:46]

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