Good morning. So this is an intimate group here. It reminds me of the thrilling session days of yesteryear. But I really appreciate everyone being here, particularly Anna. holiday weekend, there are other things to do, there are other polls at us, and yet this is a wonderful place to be. What I will do today, we've been telling stories for the last two days and then commenting on them a bit, the Buddha's passing, the story of that, the story of the encounter between Dao Wu and Chen Yuan.

[01:03]

And today I thought I would read a few pages from the end of Tolstoy's well-known story, The Death of Ivan Illich, which is very moving and quite directly relevant to what we've been bringing up. And I probably won't comment on it much because what I'd like to do is just leave time for conversation and discussion. There have been unfinished issues from the last two days and I have no illusion that anything will be finished, but yet we can go deeper and further. I was really taken at the, just to say, the Issa haiku that I came across yesterday, or the day before yesterday.

[02:07]

Actually, I found it in An essay I was remembering by Robert Aitkenboshi, Death, a Zen Perspective. And I was looking for the precise wording of the story about his wife Anne's comment on getting on the bus. And then I was looking through the essay and found this poem. In the dewdrop of this dewdrop world, such quarrels. in the dewdrop of this dewdrop world such quarrels. Even though the reality is impermanent, even though we know that intellectually, even though at some place in our bodies we know that,

[03:11]

And yet all kinds of quarrels, fights, conflicts, hurt arises right in the midst of that impermanence despite our best understanding. This I think is part of our human condition. and how we deal with these quarrels is a matter of our practice. I'm thinking, last night, Lori and the kids went to my sister's for dinner, and they were supposed to remember something. I had asked Sylvie and Lori to bring it back, bring something back for me, and they both forgot. And so they came in at the end of the day yesterday

[04:16]

And then he said, oh, we forgot. And in the midst of the impermanence of Sesshin, the exposure, the emotional rawness, I was hurt. It was like, it actually really hurt a lot, even though it was really nothing. It was nothing that I needed. The hurt was not, I needed this and you didn't get it. The hurt was, oh, you forgot me. And I went to bed and I just lay there thinking about it. It's like, what is the quality of this hurt? Where is it? How does it feel? Do I think they don't love me?

[05:18]

Well, maybe there's a part of me that actually wants to think that, a willful part of me, but that's so off the chart. No, they just were busy and forgot, and it's not a big deal. And yet, in the dewdrop of this dewdrop world, such quarrels, internal quarrels. I could have started a fight. You know, so I, this morning I just said, well, that I felt hurt and I just needed to get that said so I wasn't carrying it around. And Laurie acknowledged that and apologized for forgetting and it's gone. That's part of the dew drop, right? By the way, I am gonna get this story.

[06:26]

In Dosan yesterday, a couple people brought up a thread that I think is directly connected to this story and it's connected to what? to what I was just saying, that the hurt was something in my body. And I was talking about the physiological anxiety or tie that we have to this abiding reality of impermanence and proximity of death. that it is physiological. And what came up in further discussion, which I didn't elaborate because I was going someplace else, is just to say, yeah, I think that this is an animal. Maybe all living entities recoil from non-existence.

[07:34]

Certainly all mammals do. and have emotions about it. The distinction of being human and the approach of Zen practice is to realize that when that anxiety arises we have other opportunities and choices that can be made. rather than repress that anxiety, to look at it, to acknowledge it, to shine the light of awareness or mindfulness on it, which is sort of like the, I was saying to someone, it's sort of like the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. When you shine the light of mindfulness on something, you're actually bringing an energy to that and it changes.

[08:37]

it changes just that simple awareness itself, changes the energy of what you're looking at. So if you bring the light of mindfulness to your anxiety, your fear, whatever afflictive emotions, there's no guarantee that it'll change, but that is the condition for it to change. And that condition, I would say that mindfulness is not a, It's really not strictly a Buddhist technology. It exists in, it's a potentiality in all humans. And you find it in all spiritual traditions, in humanistic traditions. We have it a little more clarified. We develop it. We develop it here in Zazen just looking at

[09:39]

the workings of our mind and body here now for this is the third day. That's actually our work. It's not a peripheral task. It's the main deal. So I just wanted to say that's the distinction that I feel. That's the distinction of being human. The distinction of Buddha nature that exists in and around all of us. So with that, turn to the story. So Death of Ivan Illich was written in 1886 by Leo Tolstoy and it was really his first major work after a very dark, depressive time in his life. It was a real crisis and then that was kind of concluded by a spiritual conversion to a kind of mystical Christianity.

[10:42]

So this is the first thing that he wrote in the aftermath of that experience. The main character, Ivan Ilyich Golovkin, a judge in St. Petersburg and he had a wife and family and the narrator says he has lived a life that is most simple and most ordinary and therefore most terrible. Interesting expression. And one day he begins to have some pains in his side and this gets worse and he goes to a doctor and The doctor can't really locate what's going on, but it becomes clear that this is terminal. It's probably some kind of cancer and he's wasting away. And so he's brought right face to face with his mortality.

[11:45]

So this story sort of recounts this long and painful process of his death. And, you know, he begins with the idea that he's lived a good life and doesn't deserve this pain and suffering. And he thinks, well, if I hadn't lived a good life, then I could see some reason for it. But since he had, then the pain is kind of arbitrary, and the impending death is arbitrary and senseless, and he cannot accept that. And so, along with that, he begins to hate his family, who never mention the condition that he's experiencing, and the only comfort he finds is in the peasant servant, Gerasim, which is a bit of an idealization, who is not afraid of death, who's not afraid of taking care of him, and he's the only person who has any compassion for Ivan.

[13:02]

And in the midst of that, he begins seriously to question maybe I haven't lived well or rightly. And this fact intensifies and that's where I will begin reading. So this is towards the end of the story. It's like the last three pages. Another two weeks went by in this way and during that fortnight an event occurred that Ivan Illich and his wife had desired. Petrashev formally proposed. Petrashev was the suitor of his daughter. Petrashev formally proposed. It happened in the evening. The next day Praskovya Fedorivna came into her husband's room considering how best to inform him of it. But that very night, there had been a fresh change for the worst in his condition. She found him lying on the sofa, but in a different position.

[14:09]

He lay on his back, groaning and staring fixedly straight in front of him. She began to remind him of his medicines, but he turned his eyes towards her with such a look that she did not finish what she was saying. So great an animosity to her in particular did that look express. For Christ's sake, let me die in peace, he said. She would have gone away, but just then their daughter came in and went up to say good morning. He looked at her as he had done at his wife, and in reply to her inquiry about his health, said dryly that he would soon free them all of himself. They were both silent, and after sitting with him for a while, went away. Is it our fault? Lisa said to her mother. It's as if we were to blame. I am sorry for Papa, but why should we be tortured? The doctor came at his usual time.

[15:11]

Ivan Illich answered yes and no, never taking his angry eyes from him, and at last said, you know, you can do nothing for me, so leave me alone. We can ease your sufferings. You can't even do that. Let me be. The doctor went into the drawing room and told Praskovia Fedorovna that the case was very serious and the only resource left was opium to allay her husband's sufferings, which must be terrible. It was true, as the doctor said, that Ivan Illich's physical sufferings were terrible, but worse than the physical sufferings were his mental sufferings, which were his chief torture. His mental sufferings were due to the fact that that night, as he looked at Gerasim, the servant's sleepy, good-natured face with its prominent cheekbones, the question suddenly occurred to him, what if my whole life has been wrong? His mental sufferings were due to, oh, I'm sorry.

[16:14]

It occurred to him that what had appeared perfectly impossible before, namely that he had not spent his life as he should have done, might all be true. It occurred to him that his scarcely perceptible attempts to struggle against what was considered good by the most highly placed people, those scarcely noticeable impulses which he had immediately suppressed, might have been the real thing. And all the rest, false. and his professional duties and the whole arrangement of his life and of his family and all his social and official interests might all have been false. He tried to defend all those things to himself and suddenly felt the weakness of what he was defending. There was nothing to defend. But if that is so, he said to himself, and I am leaving this life with the consciousness that I have lost all that was given me and it is impossible to rectify it, What then? He lay on his back and began to pass his life in review in quite a new way.

[17:20]

In the morning when he saw first his footman, then his wife, then his daughter, and then the doctor, there every word and movement confirmed to him the awful truth that had been revealed to him during the night. In them he saw himself. all that for which he had lived, and saw clearly that it was not real at all, but a terrible and huge deception which had hidden both life and death. This consciousness intensified his physical suffering tenfold. He groaned and tossed about and pulled at his clothing which choked and stifled him, and he hated them on that account. He was given a large dose of opium and became unconscious. But at noon, his sufferings began again. He drove everybody away and tossed from side to side. His wife came to him and said, Gene, my dear, do this for me. It can't do any harm and often helps.

[18:23]

Healthy people often do it. He opened his eyes wide. What? Take communion? Why? It's unnecessary." She began to cry. Yes, do, my dear. I'll send for our priest. He's such a nice man. All right. Very well, he muttered. When the priest came and heard his confession, Ivan Illich was softened and seemed to feel a relief from his doubts and consequently from his sufferings. And for a moment, there came a ray of hope. He again began to think of the veriform appendix and the possibility of correcting it. He received the sacrament with tears in his eyes. When they laid him down again afterwards, he felt a moment's ease, and the hope that he might live awoke in him again. He began to think of the operation that had been suggested to him.

[19:25]

To live, I want to live, he said to himself. By the way, this To Live is the title of Kurosawa's movie, the Japanese words are Ikiru, and that is an astonishing movie if you haven't seen it. It's a parallel story that was actually inspired by Death by an Illich. It's just a really wonderful movie that goes to the same place. To live, I want to live, he said to himself. His wife came in to congratulate him after his communion, and when uttering the usual conventional words, she said, you feel better, don't you? Without looking at her, he said, yes. Her dress, her figure, the expression of her face, the tone of her voice, all revealed the same thing. This is wrong. It is not as it should be. All you have lived for and still live for is falsehood and deception, hiding life and death from you."

[20:32]

And as soon as he admitted that thought, his hatred and his agonizing physical suffering again sprang up. And with that suffering, a consciousness of the unavoidable approaching end. And to this was added a new sensation of grinding, shooting pain and a feeling of suffocation. The expression of his face when he uttered that yes was dreadful. Having uttered it, he looked her straight in the eyes and turned his face with a rapidity extraordinary in his weak state and shouted, go away, go away and leave me alone. From that moment, the screaming began that continued for three days. and was so terrible that one could not hear it through two closed doors without horror. At the moment he answered, his wife realized that he was lost and that there was no return, that the end had come, the very end, and his doubts were still unsolved and remained doubts.

[21:44]

Oh, oh, oh, he cried in various intonations. He had begun by screaming, I won't, and continued screaming on the letter O. For three days, during which time did not exist for him, he struggled in that black sack into which he was being thrust by an invisible, resistless force. He struggled as a man condemned to death struggles in the hands of the executioner, knowing that he cannot save himself. At every moment, he felt that despite all his efforts, he was drawing nearer and nearer to what terrified him. He felt that his agony was due to his being thrust into that black hole and still more to his not being able to get right into it. He was hindered from getting into it by his conviction that his life had been a good one. That very justification of his life held him fast and prevented his moving forward, and it caused him most torment of all.

[22:53]

Suddenly, some force struck him in the chest and side, making it still harder to breathe, and he fell through the hole, and there at the bottom was a light. What had happened to him was like the sensation one sometimes experiences in a railway carriage when one thinks one is going backwards while one is really going forwards and suddenly becomes aware of the real direction. Yes, it was not the right thing, he said to himself, but that's no matter. It can be done. But what is the right thing, he asked himself, and suddenly grew quiet. This occurred at the end of the third day, two hours before his death. Just then his schoolboy son had crept softly in and gone up to the bedside. The dying man was still screaming desperately and waving his arms.

[23:58]

His hand fell on the boy's head and the boy caught it, pressed it to his lips and began to cry. That very moment Ivan Illich fell through and caught sight of the light. And it was revealed to him that though his life had not been what it should have been, this could still be rectified. He asked himself, what is the right thing? And grew still listening. Then he felt that someone was kissing his hand. He opened his eyes. looked at his son and felt sorry for him. His wife came up to him and he glanced at her. She was gazing at him open-mouthed, with undried tears on her nose and cheek and a despairing look on her face. He felt sorry for her, too. Yes, I am making them wretched, he thought. They are sorry, but it will be better for them when I die.

[25:01]

He wished to say this, but he had not the strength to utter it. Besides, why speak? I must act, he thought. With a look at his wife, he indicated his son and said, take him away. Sorry for you. Sorry for him. He tried to add, forgive me, but said, forgo, and waved his hand, knowing that he whose understanding mattered would understand. And suddenly it grew clear to him that what had been oppressing him and would not leave his, hmm, I think there's a word left out, and would not leave him was all dropping away at once from two sides, from 10 sides, and from all sides. He was sorry for them. He must act so as not to hurt them, release them, and free himself from this sufferings. How good, how simple, he thought.

[26:05]

And the pain, he asked himself, what has become of it? Where are you, pain? He turned his attention to it. Yes, here it is. Well, what of it? Let the pain be. And death, where is it? He sought his former accustomed fear of death and did not find it. Where is it? What death? There was no fear because there was no death. In place of death, there was light. So that's what it is, he suddenly exclaimed aloud. What joy. To him, all this happened in a single instant, and the meaning of that instant did not change. For those present, his agony continued for another two hours. Something rattled in his throat. His emaciated body twitched, and then the gasping and rattle became less and less frequent.

[27:14]

It is finished, said someone near him. He heard these words and repeated them in his soul. Death is finished, he said to himself. It is no more. He drew in a breath, stopped in the midst of a sigh, stretched out, and died. Thank you for listening.

[28:30]

Very hard to break the silence after that, but it's very… I can hardly read that without weeping. whatever is on your mind, to share together. The floor is open. Thanks.

[29:44]

Oh. I think she still loves me a lot better than she did.

[32:48]

I was not in love with her. She died. I had to take care of her. And I watched her go through everything. I hated everything. I realized how much I certainly wouldn't work.

[33:49]

No I don't, I'm pretty clear from the last paragraph that they did not. But what was happening in him was bigger and greater than what you little brown kids see. And I think that's just true. Denise? I'd also add too, at least in the context of the story, he had pretty much lived, it sounds like, I think it's a little different actually. Of course, I didn't know Bob's mother, but I take it on knowing Bob that if she had a year of happiness and satisfaction, it was probably a real happiness.

[35:46]

And what this story sets up, and it sets it up very much from the beginning, was that his whole value system was a sham. And it was a system of really of bourgeois self-deception. And he was not happy. He just was accomplishing all these things and meeting these marks that were the convention. And so it's not exactly the same situation, I think. Mm-hmm. Denise? A long time ago, I had this dream where I became a statue in a dream, and when I awoke,

[37:22]

And it sounds like the body which saw that at the very end of his life, like that he hadn't quite hit the mark of what that might have been. And that he didn't know what it was. And seeing Thank you. What's really interesting about, have any of you seen Ikiru? What's really interesting about Ikiru to me, it sort of breaks in half.

[38:49]

One is the story of this guy's diagnosis and his illness and his decline. It breaks in more than half. The second half is like all of his friends and family gathering at the funeral to figure out what was going on. And how did he die and what was he doing in a park when he died? How did he get there? But what's wonderful is that instead of this awakening, which happens right in the last moments in this story, the awakening happens, there's a kind of enlightenment experience at the end of Akira when he dies. He turns to life, where he's been a kind of a cypher bureaucrat, and he finds something that he needs to do which actually is in the world. He builds a park in a polluted desert.

[39:53]

by a polluted pond in a working-class neighborhood in Tokyo. And he makes this his absolute mission, to do this for the poor women and children. And that is what we were talking about yesterday. It's positive activity slash emancipation. And in that, with absolute determination, you see his determination growing and you see his body wasting away at the same time. That's... Well, this was Suzuki Rushi's favorite movie. You know, that's the spirit of our practice is turning towards life with this positive activity while we can. And I think part of the tragedy of this story that makes us think is, oh, if only he had been able to come to this a bit sooner.

[41:06]

But he came to it when he could come to it, and release was there nonetheless. but nothing was necessarily, I mean, this is also the conundrum, I think, of this story is nothing was necessarily transmitted to those who were around him. Whereas in Ikiru, it's like those who are capable of getting it in the course of this increasingly drunken funeral reception themselves understand something. And the light that comes at the end of the movie is not the inner light for the character who dies, but it's actually the sun rising over a railroad trestle onto the park and one of his associates seeing this.

[42:15]

So it's about transmitting this. This is our job. in this practice is to take the light that is alive in this room and to bring it forth in the world while we can, irrespective of the condition of our life, because whatever the limitations are that we have, we're totally we have the opportunity to act and to generate compassion, action. Other comments or thoughts? Hi K I R U. I have a copy which I can lend someone, by the way.

[43:20]

I have a DVD of it. There was a place in this story where I was really thinking of Millie. I can't quite remember where it was. But I actually know she liked this story. And we were, Sojan and Mary Mosina and I were actually with her when she died.

[44:29]

And we don't know what was going on in there. And it was hard. She spent most of a week dying. I hope it was not too painful. You wonder what it was like in the days before pain medications. She was surrounded by love and grief at the same time. Sue, did you want to say something? A number of years ago, you had a class where you read this. Oh yeah, with Guy Miko. He provided the only comfort.

[45:53]

I mean, there's a touchstone. This section doesn't touch on him very much, but he's the touchstone, the only touchstone of relief through that. And it's an interesting conundrum. It's the person who might, given his class background, have the most reason to be skeptical of the values of this family and yet he just gives. Now this is maybe it's an idealization I mean we could critique it in different ways but he represents some human principle of connecting that's very precious. Helen? It may be something that's related to traditional cultures that we have sadly lost in part.

[47:21]

We can always regain it, but we have to make an effort. I feel like, you know, there were like many things you touched upon yesterday that partly you wanted to hear more of what you thought, and then later you'd say something and then realize, oh, I was taking that in a whole different direction. And I was thinking about that. what you do think at times and then kind of at other times wondering and kind of being interested in where I'm taking things too, internally, all at the same time.

[48:43]

So it's very rich for me in that way. Thank you. This piece about the dew drop poems, I've been probably taken by it. When you went over the one again this morning, what kind of came to me is how And when I thought that, it actually made me feel a little bit more generous towards myself in the world. You know, like, oh yeah, this is part of our nature. I think that's right. You know, it's not strictly speaking a plea, can't we all just get along? It's like, this is part of the impermanence, and if we can see that, as impermanence, not locked down on it, then we can accept the differences. But I think, probably we've got time to end, but I think the most important thing to me is the extent to which each of us works with what arises,

[49:58]

in our minds, irrespective of what my opinion might be, because my opinion is only partial, but the idea is just, is there something that we can work with, is there something useful, or let it work on us. So if that happens, good. I must say I have some trepidations as I was getting into the weekend, thinking, oh God, this is really heavy. But it's also, it's just what we were doing, and I'm very happy to be doing it here with you, Helen. Yes, I want to get it exactly right, it's right here. And this was the poem that Isa composed on the death of his baby daughter.

[51:01]

The dewdrop world, in the dewdrop world, and yet, and yet, Thank you very much.

[51:21]

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