and translate and teach Dōgen. And over these many years we've been the beneficiaries of that hard effort of scholarship and many years of sitting practice. When we read the wholehearted practice of the Way and the Tenzo Kiyoken, Yehe Kuroko, we're reading Shōhaku Okamura's translation He is now the founding teacher of Sanxin Zen community in Bloomington, Indiana. He also still is actively involved in the Soda Shu in San Francisco, where many of us know him from. His teachings and translations of Dogon are unique and profound expressions, not only of 35 years of scholarship, but 35 years of deep practice experience. We're very fortunate to have him come once again after a week of teaching at San Francisco Sunset.

[01:01]

Thank you. Good morning, everyone.

[02:09]

I'm really happy to be here again to share our practice and Dharma. I would like to say thank you to Sojun Roshi and all the friends at the Berkley Zen Center for inviting me and having me this morning, even though this is a dueling session. I'm really honored to participate in this session. Well, as Andrea said, I had a seven-day Genzo retreat at San Francisco Zen Center until yesterday evening. So I talked on one of the chapters of Shobo Genzo entitled Shobo Jisso.

[03:11]

It's a quite philosophical writing of Dogen. and I'm just tired of talking about it. So, I'm really happy to talk on something else. So, as you have the handout, I'm going to talk on Ryokan's poem. I selected Ryokan's poem on meditation or Zazen practice. This morning I'm going to talk on one poem. If you have the first poem on page one, I'm sorry my handwriting is not so good. I made this handout for a series of lectures on Ryokan's poem I had when I was in Minneapolis.

[04:23]

So I wanted to show both original Chinese characters and English translation from this book, Great Fool. If you are interested in Ryokan, I think this is the best book. I hope this is still in print. Oh, good. Which page is it? If you have this book, page 147. Let me read this poem. Finished begging my food in a ramshackle town, I returned to my home among the green hills. The evening sun drops behind the western peaks. A pale moon light the stream that runs by my door.

[05:30]

I wash my feet, climb onto a rock, burn incense, and sit in meditation. I am, after all, a Buddhist monk. How can I let the years just drift uselessly by? This is a poem. And this is one of my favorite poems of Ryokan. Ryokan lived about 200 years ago, so in the second half of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th century. And he was born in a very old, I mean,

[06:34]

rich family, and because he was the first son of that family, he was expected to take over the family position and wealth. But somehow he didn't want to, so he escaped and became a Buddhist monk when he was 18. His teacher was Dai-nin Kokusen. He was the abbot of a monastery in Okayama Prefecture. The monastery is still there. The name of the monastery was En-tsu-ji. And he practiced there more than 10 years. So he was trained at Sotozen Monastery by his teacher, Kokusen. and he finished training, and when his teacher died, Ryokan left the monastery.

[07:41]

And for several years, we don't know where he was. It seems he was traveling all over Japan. And when he was around 40 years old, he came back to his hometown in Echigo. and he started to live in a small hermitage named Go-Go-An on the mountain. Go-Go means five cups of rice. That means the hermitage belongs to not a Zen, but a Shingon temple. And a retired abbot of that temple lived in that hermitage. And that retired abbot was provided five cups of rice a day.

[08:47]

That was why it was called Go-Go-An. But because the ryokan didn't belong to that temple, he didn't receive the rice. So he had to do takuhatsu, or begging. And so begging was his main practice. And so in this poem, he said, finished begging my food in a ramshackle town. So this poem is about after he finished begging food and came back to this small hut in the mountain. As I said, this is one of my favorite poems of Ryokan because I had the same, I spent the same kind of life for about three years.

[09:52]

After my teacher, Uchiyama Kousho Roshi, retired in 1975, I came to this country. and lived in Massachusetts, in the woods of western Massachusetts. create a small Zen community there. And the Zen Do is still there. But after five years of practicing and working there, I had a problem with my body. So I had to go back to Japan. And I had no place to live. And I didn't have money and job and Sangha. At that time, a friend of mine owned two temples. One of them is a small, used to be a nun temple.

[10:56]

All nuns lived at that temple by herself because her disciples died before her, so she was alone. my friend took care of that old nun, but old nun also passed away. So my friend need a caretaker of that small temple. And that's the name of that small temple is Seitai-an. It was very close to the old Antai site before Antai moved to the countryside. So for About three years, I lived in that small nun temple by myself. And because I didn't have a job, I didn't have money, so I lived on takuhatsu.

[11:56]

And during that time, I worked on translation with one of my Dharma brothers, Daitsu Tomuraite. And those books Andrea mentioned, Refining Your Life, that is Uchiyama Roshi's commentary on Tenzo Kyokun, or Instruction for the Cook, and Opening the Hand of Thought. and my translation of Uchiyama Roshi's Teisho on Bendowa, now published with the title A Whole-Hearted Way. Those books, I translated, worked on those books during that time. So that was done early 80s. I was early 30s, so I was still young. And I decided in order to work on translation and we had a five-day session each month.

[13:09]

Uchiyama Roshio and Taiji style session just doesn't session. So I had the same experience as Ryokan described in this poem. I went to... I did takuhatsu in the daytime. I didn't takuhatsu so often. It seems Ryokan did takuhatsu very often, but I lived in Kyoto. I did takuhatsu in the city or in a marketplace in Kyoto, Osaka, and Kobe. Those are big cities. So I didn't need to do takuhatsu so often. I didn't beg for food, but people make small amount of donation, monetary donation.

[14:14]

So, during those three years, I lived with about, let's see, between $200 to $300 a month. That was enough. And that means I did tako hats two or three times a month. That was enough to support my life. So I did takahatsu in the city and came back to this small temple and sat by myself. So this is exactly the same thing as Ryokan did. So in the first line he said, finished begging my food in a ramshackle town. So he did takat in a small village.

[15:19]

So it's not a big city. So I don't think he received a lot of donation because he said ramshackle town. And He said, I returned to my home among the green hills. I have a question about this translation. It said among the green hills, but originally it said by the green rock. So I think not the hills, but probably by his hermitage there was a big rock covered with moss. I think that Ryokan, right. So I don't think this is among the green hills. When I compare the original Chinese and English translation. You know, I have many questions.

[16:23]

But it's interesting to compare original and English. Anyway, next he said, the evening sun drops behind the western peaks. So this was about the time sun set And a pale moon, pale moon lights, I mean, pale moon light the stream that runs by my door. So it seems by his hut, there was a small stream running. And on that stream, the moon, pale moon is reflected. That is, you know, very beautiful scenery in the, you know, time between, very short time between day, time and night.

[17:31]

It's a really beautiful time. Actually, I talked a little bit about the expression, eko henshou, during the genzoe. Are you familiar with the expression, eko henshou? Eko Hensho is an expression Dogen Zenji used in the Fukan Zazengi, or the Universal Recommendation of the Zen. And one of the translations of this expression, Eko Hensho, is turn the light inward and illuminate the self. Are you familiar with this expression? This is a translation of Chinese expression, eko henshou. Turn the light inward and illuminate the self is not a literal translation. E means to turn, and ko is light.

[18:38]

So turn the light. And hen shou is, hen is to return, and shou is to illuminate. So this expression doesn't say illuminate the self, but it just says, you know, turn the light and return the illumination. And this Chinese expression has at least three meanings. The original meaning of this echo henshou, or turn the light and return the illumination, is a scenery of this time of day. right after sunset, so sun is already set. And yet, you know, as Ryokan said, the sun is set behind the mountain in the west.

[19:41]

So sun is already gone. And pale moon is there. And yet the sky is really bright. really beautiful, so this is a really beautiful time of the day. So the sun is already gone, and yet the light from that sun, already gone, illuminates this entire world. This is what turning the light means. So the sun is already not here, already gone, but the light of the sun that is already gone illuminates this entire world. And the mountains in the east side is really illuminated by this sun, this light. And that light, the mountains,

[20:48]

illuminate by this light from the sun, return the light and make this sky more bright and beautiful. This expression is a description. When I lived in Massachusetts, our zendo is located on the east side of one hill. So, the sun set quite early, around three or four in the afternoon. So, sun is already gone, and yet, you know, we had hills in the east side, and those hills are really bright. So, I'm familiar with this scenery. So it's really beautiful.

[21:49]

And this scenery, description of this scenery, is not simply the description of the scenery. But this is about the Awaza Zen. That is, as Dogen used this expression, Eko Hensho, in Fukanza Zengi. And the second meaning of this expression, Chinese expression, ekō hēi shōu, is, this is, I looked up a dictionary and also heard from a Chinese person that this expression is used to express, you know, when a person is dying, right before dying, somehow the life force comes back and the person's face becomes bright. So this expression is used to describe the person's death.

[22:56]

The person is almost gone and yet at the last moment the person's life force comes back and makes the person's face bright. So this is from the scenery of the, what do you call, this time of the day. What's the English word for this? Twilight. Twilight. So it's almost the end of life. And yet, at that moment, this life force returns and illuminates the person. That is the second meaning of this expression. And the third meaning is... In English you have the expression, second wind. That is, when we do some exercise, or some... And when we are tired, we feel we have no more energy at all.

[24:06]

But after a while, when we lost all energy, somehow we find a new energy, you know, a second wind comes and allows us to continue. That is the third meaning of this expression, echo, henshou. common point of those three meanings of this expression is the sun is already gone or life is almost gone or our energy is gone so it's not there anymore and yet the life force illuminates this world or ourselves and makes it really bright and beautiful and allows us to live in peace.

[25:21]

And this time of twilight, as I said, is between daytime and night. That means during daytime, there are many things we have to think and we have to do, especially when we do takuhatsu. I did takuhatsu in the city. When we do takuhatsu, we hold all your keyboard like this and walk on the street and standing in front of each and every shop or houses and walk around. And we walked about, I walked about, you know, let's see, six or seven hours a day. So it's a lot of work. And when we walk on the busy marketplace, we have to be really alert and careful not to disturb other people because we are bigger.

[26:29]

We cannot say, I'm right to walk. We try to be really careful not to disturb the person at the shop and the people who are doing shopping and the people walking on the street. we have to be really humble and careful not to disturb those people. And we have to, when we receive some donation, regardless how much the donation is, sometimes it's like one cent or five cent or 50 cent. At most, usually at most, One dollar. You know, small coins people can offer without hesitation. Rarely I received like a ten dollar bill.

[27:38]

Then I was really happy. So during doing takuhatsu we have to be really being alert and careful not to disturb others on the street. So we are tired when we come back. And first thing we should do is washing our feet because we walk wearing straw sandals. So during walking, we have to, you know, think what's the best way to do takuhatsu without disturbing others, which way I should go. So I have to, you know, think so many things, moment by moment, and I have to make decisions.

[28:44]

But when I came back, during the toilet time. Now I don't need to think and make decision. I can put aside those thinking and making decision and washing our feet and now I can rest. And because this is still not in the night, it's not yet dark. Dark means there's no discrimination at all. So daytime and night is a Zen term. Daytime is a time of discrimination. Even if we don't do takuhatsu, during daytime we have to do business, doing so many things.

[29:49]

In order to do so, we have to think and we have to find the best way to do things. That's the time of discrimination. And during, in the night, when it's dark, we don't see things. So, and we don't need to make discrimination. But this twilight time is between, or kind of a boundary between discrimination and non-discrimination. Or in Fukanza Zengi, thinking and not thinking. So, in our Zazen, you know, our thinking mind, our discriminating mind is already set, like a sign set, but of course there is some thought coming and going, but we don't really make discrimination. And that thought is still there. So thinking and not thinking are both there in our zazen.

[30:55]

Our zazen is not completely not thinking or no discrimination. Thoughts are almost always constantly coming and going. But we don't think. We just let them come up and let them go away. This you know, not a condition, but this is things happening in our present is, I think, exactly the same as the time of twilight. boundary between daytime when we have to make discrimination and make judgment and choice, and in the night we can just rest or sleep, so there's no discrimination. But this twilight time is really halfway or a boundary between thinking and not thinking.

[31:58]

And both are there. And it's, you know, one of the most beautiful time of the day. Entire sky is, you know, illuminated by the light and all different kinds of colors. And this color is not a man-made color. It's the color of the beauty of nature. So... In this poem, these two lines is a description of the scenery when Ryokan came back from begging and he climbed up the rock and sit outside. So this is a description of scenery when he sits outside.

[33:03]

But this is, I don't think, this is only simply a description of scenery, outside scenery. But this is a description of his zazen or our zazen. So the evening sun drops behind the western peak. So sun is already gone. And yet, and pale moonlight light the stream. So moon is reflected on the water. Of course, this moon is a symbol of Buddha nature. or boundless reality beyond discrimination is there. And yet it's still pale. And this entire world is really beautiful and bright.

[34:04]

So, Ryokan, I wash my feet, climb onto a rock, burn incense, and sit in meditation. And he said, I am, after all, a Buddhist monk. The expression Ryokan use is, I am a child. I'm a child of the Sangha. Sangha child. So I don't like Buddhist monk. So, even though he, after he left the monastery, when his teacher died, after that, he never lived in a monastery. He never had his own temple. This small hut was not his own. But he was a... What do you call it? A person staying there without paying anything. A caretaker. He didn't caretaker. There was nothing to take care of.

[35:07]

He was just there. and yet he still thinks he is a child of the Sangha. That means he's a child of Buddha. So, how can I let the ears just drift uselessly by? So this is, you know, begging in the town, that means to meet with people, and return to the hut and practice Zazen was his practice. So even though he lived by himself without Sangha, he still thinks he is a member of the Sangha. I think it's time to stop talking. I'm sorry it's too short.

[36:09]

I'm going to talk a few, several more poems in the afternoon. So if we have time, please come to listen. Thank you very much.

[36:24]

@Text_v004
@Score_JJ