I want to talk this morning about the monk poet, Ryokan, who lived from 1758 to 1831, Japanese monk and great poet. So for new people, what we do here is not really about Japanese culture or Asian culture. We are... developing and transforming and translating this ancient practice for our lives here in Chicago. And yet, this tradition and practice has been conveyed from the Buddha 2,500 years ago in India, through China, Japan, and California, and here to Chicago. And so I often talk about the writings of the 13th century Japanese Soto Zen founder Dogen, or about the stories from the great 9th century Chinese Chan or Zen masters.

[01:12]

Ryokan is a little more recent, 19th century, less than a couple hundred years ago, although it was still before It was still before Japan was opened by Commodore Perry in the 1860s, so it was a kind of insular society. Anyway, he lived from 1758 to 1831, and he's famous as a great poet. He was famous in his own time as a great calligrapher. So calligraphy is an art form that is part of that culture, East Asian culture. And he's also famous as a great fool. So he took the Dharma named Daigu, which means literally great fool. So I want to tell you some stories about his foolishness and read you some of his poems.

[02:12]

So just a little more background. He did formal Soto Zen monastic training. and finished that. He was one of the few people in that time period who actually read Dogen, whose writings are now very important in terms of bringing Buddhism to the West. And there's a long poem that Ryokan wrote that's the beginning of the long Dogen's extensive record. I helped translate with Shohaku Okamura, where Ryokan talks about how sad he is that Nobody at that time reads Dogen or knows how wonderful Dogen is. So there were just a few Soto monks and scholars who read Dogen at that time. Anyway, Ryokan finished his training and could have been an abbot of a significant monastery in Japan. But instead, he returned to his home village.

[03:20]

And he was about 40 at the time. And spent the rest of his life living in a little hut outside the village, very, very modest little hut, writing poetry and doing meditation or zazen, as we've just done, and going out on begging rounds, a traditional way, a traditional practice in Asian Buddhism, to support himself, and also playing a lot with children. So anyway, I want to tell stories about his foolishness. But first I'll read a little description of his hut. This was by a Japanese fellow who was wandering around as people did then. He says, when I was in my early 20s, I traveled to the Tosa district.

[04:22]

At dusk one day, I was caught in a rainstorm. Since I was quite far from the castle town, I sought shelter in a lonely little hut by the road. A shabbily dressed monk was living there who invited me in with apologies that there was nothing to eat, nor was there any bedding. After our initial conversation, he said nothing, but just sat silently in a meditation posture, as we've just done. I thought he might be a bit weak in the head. I fell asleep. The following morning, he shared his thin gruel with me. The only things in the hut were a tiny Buddha image, a little desk, and two books. The one I picked up was a Tang edition of the writings of Zhuangzi, a great Taoist master and writer. Inside were copies of poems written by the hermit, a beautiful cursive script. I then realized that this was no ordinary monk. I asked him to inscribe two blank fans that I had had with me. On one, he brushed a painting of plum blossoms on the other Mount Fuji, he signed them Ryokan, native of Echigo. The monk refused to take any money but gladly accepted some calligraphy paper.

[05:24]

Anyway, that's a little bit of a description of his hut. And even in his own time, his calligraphy was very much appreciated, beautiful cursive script, as the story says. And his calligraphy was actually very valuable, even in his own time. We have an example on the back wall of, actually, that was written by a Japanese national treasure, Sato Sensei, who came here. And since this straightforward mind, direct mind, this is the place of awakening, the dojo. So calligraphy is very much a very highly treasured art form in East Asia. Anyway, Ryokan, again, lived this very simple, life. I'll just mention, since Gene Reeves was here recently talking about the Lotus Sutra, that Dogen was also one of the relatively rare Shoto monks, along with Dogen, the founder of Shoto-sen, who really loved the Lotus Sutra and took as his hero the Bodhisattva, never disrespecting, who respected everyone and bowed to everyone, and was also a little foolish, like Ryokan.

[06:36]

So, some examples of why And again, I want to read a bunch of his poetry, but some stories first. Ryokan used to go around on his begging rounds. He carried balls in his sleeve to play with the children. He would stop and play with the children a lot. Often, he would also stop to talk with farmers and drink sake with them. Anyway, once Ryokan was playing hide and seek with the children, and he ran to hide in a nearby shed. The children knew where he was and decided to play a joke on him. They ran away without letting him know the game was over. The following morning, a farmer's wife came into the shed and was startled to find Ryokan crouching in a corner. What are you doing here, Ryokan, she asked. Quiet, he whispered, or else the children will find me. So I don't know if he was just in Samadhi all night or, you know. Anyway, it's kind of one of many foolish stories. Another famous story about him, once a misdirected thief entered his hermitage, Gokumon, but naturally found nothing of value.

[07:51]

Out of frustration, the thief took Ryokan's old and torn sleeping quilt and his meditation cushion. When Ryokan returned to the hut and discovered what had happened, he wrote this haiku. The thief left it behind, the moon at the window. There's other versions of the story that Ryokan was actually there when the thief came in and said, I don't have anything but here, have my blanket. And then wrote this poem about how he wished he could give him the moon. So there's a number of stories about people trying to trick Ryokan to get copies of his valuable calligraphy. Ryokan adored flowers. One of his friends by the name of Yamada had a garden full of magnificent peonies. Yamada would not let anyone touch the precious flowers, but one day he caught Ryokan, who could contain himself no longer, trying to sneak off a branch.

[08:54]

Seeing a chance to get some calligraphy from Ryokan, Yamada shouted, even if you are a Zen master, you still can't get away with this. Yamada took the embarrassed Ryokan to the village constable and had him shut up in a little room. Yamada made a sketch of Ryokan making off with the peonies and said to the monk, listen here, flower thief, I'll let you go if you brush an inscription on this sketch. So Ryokan wrote contritely, Ryokan caught red-handed stealing flowers. Now everyone will always know. So now we know two of these soul flowers. Anyway, the point was to get a copy of the calligraphy. Railcon love to play the board game Go. Is anyone here ever played Go? Oh, yeah, it's a wonderful game. It's sort of like chess, but you put black or white stones on intersections on a board. I really loved it when I was young, but I realized that I would have to devote my life totally to Go if I was going to ever be any good at it, so I gave it up.

[09:57]

Anyway, Rokkan loved to play the board game Go, but he hated to lose, though, which was unfortunate since he was not a strong player. After one close defeat, he wanted a rematch, and his opponent agreed, only if you promise to give me a piece of calligraphy each time you lose. Ryokan reluctantly agreed, but he lost again and again. His opponent expected several prized pieces of Zen wisdom, but all he got on each sheet was this poem. Picking persimmons, my testicles are frozen by the autumn wind. Ryokan once did a painting of a skull, a favorite theme of Zen artists for a priest friend. The priest wanted Ryokan to add an inscription. Ryokan thought the painting was fine as it was. The priest persisted, though, asking Ryokan to write something each time he visited. Finally, Ryokan brushed his inscription. Today, Ryokan has written something. Anyway, well, one more. A friend of Ryokan asked for a piece of calligraphy that would bring good luck and prosperity to his family.

[11:01]

Ryokan brushed a single-syllable sheet on a full-size sheet of paper. What does it mean, the friend asked. And Ryokan applied death, so it's the character for death. Ryokan said, when people are mindful of death, they don't waste time or squander their wealth. Anyway, there are other stories about people trying to trick him so they could get calligraphy from him. Another story, again, about his... Relationship with children, once a relative of Ryokan's asked him to speak to his delinquent son. Ryokan came to visit the family but did not say a word of admonition to the boy. He stayed overnight and prepared to leave the following morning. As the wayward boy was helping Tai Ryokan straw sandals, he felt a drop of warm water on her shoulder. Glancing up, you saw Ryokan looking down at him with eyes full of tears. Ryokan returned to his termitage, and the boy had a complete change of heart.

[12:05]

I mean, I didn't say anything to him, but the boy felt something. Okay, many of the stories have to do with how Ryokan was, very careful about taking care of all beings. So, this is his one story, again, showing Ryokan's foolishness. Ryokan, one spring day, noticed three bamboo shoots growing under his veranda. Bamboo grows rapidly, and soon the shoots were pushing against the bottom of the floor. Ryokan was anxious, but did not like to see anything suffer, even plants. He started to chop an opening in the floor. The bamboo grew through, but then it was coming towards the ceiling, and so Ryokan decided to burn a hole in a section of the thatched roof, covering the veranda to permit the bamboo to grow unimpeded.

[13:10]

But when Ryokan put a candle to that part of the roof, the entire veranda caught fire and the whole hut burned down. Riocon held a funeral service for the roasted bamboo, and then built a roofless veranda with sliding floorboards that would allow the bamboo shoots to slip through. Again, very foolish by our ordinary standards. So other stories. And again, I just want to read a bunch of his poems. But another story, and actually I heard this from Donald King. I took a graduate course with him in New York. Donald King is an American, but he's considered in Japan to be the greatest modern critic and scholar of Japanese literature. So I took this wonderful course with him. When he got to Ryokan, though, he said, he kind of dismissed Ryokan.

[14:15]

He said no American could ever appreciate Ryokan because of the following story. Oh, there's a poem later, but the story goes that Ryokan used to sit out in front of his hut in the morning to sun himself. kind of like Thoreau at Walden. And he would loosen his robes, and he would take the lice out from inside his robe and put them on a rock, carefully, so as to not hurt them. When he was finished sunning himself, he would gather his robes back together and take the lice and put them back in. So that may gross you out, and you don't want to hear any more. If you want to leave, you can. He wrote a poem sort of about that.

[15:19]

I'll read the Japanese. So the poems I'm going to read, some are Japanese waka poems, five-line traditional poems. Some of them are written in Chinese. So this one is a Japanese poem. So I'll read you the Japanese just to get the sound of it. Nomishirami nani naku aki no mushi na raba waga futokoro wa musashino no hara. Does anyone here speak Japanese? Not me either, really. OK, here's the poem in English. Fleas, lice, any autumn bug that wants to sing. The breast of my robe is musashino more, which is a nice area in Kyoto where there's wildlife. Anyway, so I'm going to read some poems. So these are Japanese poems.

[16:28]

And Don, later on, will remind you to tell you the story about the lamps. Sometimes I sit quietly, listening to the sound of falling leaves. Peaceful, indeed, is the life of a monk, cut off from all worldly matters. Then why do I shed these tears? So a number of his poems talk about his loneliness. So he chose this life. Really a radical, you know, from the point of view of our society, I've referred to him as an anti-consumerist extremist because he just, you know, he didn't need anything, he was content. Anyway, if you are not put off by the voice of the valley and the starry peaks, why not walk through the shady cedars and come see me? Faint trickle of mossy water from a crevice in the mountain rock.

[17:51]

The clear still way I pass through the world. I'll read that again. And actually, as I'm reading these, if anybody wants me to read any of them again, please. Faint trickle of mossy water from a crevice in the mountain rock. The clear still way I pass through the world. So this connection with nature, which is so much part of not just Japanese culture, but of our practice. And the simplicity of his own life, he compares to this faint trickle of mossy water in the crevice of the mountain rock. Here's another one about his lifestyle, about his hermitage. On slopes of Mount Kugami hold up for winter. Day after day the snow goes on falling, till trails show no sign of a soul passing by, and no word comes from people at home.

[18:54]

So I shut my gate on the drifting world, and here with this one thread of clear water from the crags, straight as the string plucked by the carpenters of Hida. I keep myself alive. Through another year, another today, I go on living." So, you know, in most of Zen, most of Buddhist tradition is, well, the monastic tradition, which sort of kept it alive developing once we taught. And so, you know, Keizan and Eishin and I are wearing this monk's robe, and Roy and Don with the lay rugs. These aren't particularly Japanese culture things. These are part of a tradition. And so one piece of that tradition is this kind of hermit context. And these hermit poets are famous in China and Japan. and the poetry celebrated. And Ryokan is an example of that. But he was also connected to the world.

[19:57]

He would go through his begging rounds to his favorite children. He was connected. And the other part of this tradition that comes to us is the actual just practice of sitting and being upright and settling into being present with ourselves. So this Ryokan also exemplifies. And then there's the popular We can say popular religion and scholars sometimes demean that, but actually the cultural context of Buddhist practice and Buddhist awareness, of practice of contentment, which Ryokan also exemplifies, and of community, which is very important. So even though Ryokan lived alone as a hermit, he did not take on living in a monastery and so forth. He had this community of friends and of children that he lived with, but also this context in Buddhism of this culture of calligraphy in Japan, a culture of calligraphy and poetry and so forth, and of appreciation of nature.

[21:09]

So Ryokan is still very much beloved in Japan, probably maybe along with Dogen, the best known Soto monk in Japan. I want to read some more of his, these are Chinese poems. So I'm going to read a few more poems and then maybe have some time for questions or responses. This one is about his begging rounds. Spring wind feels rather soft. Ringing amongst staff, I enter the eastern town. So green, well as in the garden. So restless, floating grass over the pond. My bowl is fragrant with rice of a thousand homes. My heart has abandoned splendor of 10,000 carriages. yearning for traces of ancient Buddhas. Step by step, I walk, begging."

[22:10]

So that conveys some feeling of his life and practice. Also, he expresses Buddha's teaching in various ways through his poetry. Where beauty is, then there is ugliness. Where right is, also there is wrong. Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent. Delusion and enlightenment condition each other. Since olden times, it has been so. How could it be otherwise now? Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other is merely realizing a scene of stupidity. Even if you speak of the wonder in it all, how do you deal with each thing changing? So wonderful practice instruction, Dharma instruction. Good. I'd like to read it again. Thank you. Where beauty is, then there is ugliness. Where right is, also there is wrong.

[23:14]

Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent. Delusion and enlightenment condition each other. Since olden times, it has been so. Half of it be otherwise now. Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other is merely realizing a scene of stupidity, even if you speak of the wonder in it all. How do you deal with each thing changing? So on that one, I'll add some commentary. This idea of enlightenment, which attracted many of us to first get involved in Buddhist practice. From the point of view of Ryokan, or from the point of view of Dogen, such as his founder, the point is not to get a hold of enlightenment. Delusion and enlightenment are both part of our life. They condition each other. Knowledge and ignorance are interdependent. So wisdom and realization happens in both delusion and enlightenment. Wanting to get rid of one and grab the other is merely realizing a scene of stupidity.

[24:18]

So even if you speak of the wonder in it all, and this is part of our practice, is to realize, to be grateful for the wonder of our life, to really appreciate that which is inspiring to us. and how in spite of all the problems we each have in our own lives, in spite of all the terrible injustices in our society and so forth, still there is this wonder in our lives. But even if you see that, Ryokan says, how do you deal with each thing changing? So our practice is to take on the changing of our life right in front of us. All my life, another one says, all my life, too lackadaisical to stand up for myself. Ointmently, I leave everything to the harmony of reality. In my sack, three scoops of rice. Beside the fire, a bundle of firewood.

[25:23]

Who would ask about traces of delusion and enlightenment? How could you know the dusts of name and fame and game? Evening rain in my thatched hut, I casually stretch out my legs. So for those of you who've done long meditation, days of meditation, the joy of evening rain in my thatched hut, I casually stretch out my legs. Maybe you can get some feeling of it. Here's one about playing with children again. Day after day, day after day, again day after day. Idly accompanying small children, I pass my time. In my sleeves, two or three embroidered balls. Useless, entirely intoxicated with spring peacefulness. Again and again, I bounce an embroidered ball, proud of my skill beyond comparison.

[26:26]

If you ask for the secret in this, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, Another one, old and sick, I woke up and couldn't sleep. Late at night, the four walls were somber and heavy. No light in the lamp, no charcoal for fire, only a miserable chill piled up on the bed. Not knowing how to divert my mind in darkness, I walked with a cane at the garden's edge. All the stars spread out, blossoms of a bald tree. The distant valley stream flows, a lute with no strings. That night, with that feeling, I had some understanding. Some time, some morning, for whom shall I sing? So he actually had one disciple. He gave up teaching and living in a monastery, but he had one disciple. But his disciple died young, so he was sad about that. This is one of my favorites, and it really speaks to the basic Buddhist practice of contentment.

[27:33]

In our culture, we're taught to need more and more and more. Economy's based on you have to get more and more and more. Go out, go shopping. Anyway, but real concept. Without desire, everything is sufficient. With seeking, myriad things are impoverished. Plain vegetables can soothe hunger. A pastro is enough to cover this bent old body. Alone, I hike with a deer. Cheerfully, I sing with village children. The stream under the cliff cleanses my ears. The pine on the mountaintop fits my heart. I'll read that one again. Without desire, everything is sufficient. With seeking, myriad things are impoverished. Plain vegetables can soothe hunger. A patch brogue is enough to cover this bent old body. Alone, I hike with a deer. Cheerfully I sing with village children. The stream under the cliff cleanses my ears. The pine on the mountaintop fits my heart."

[28:36]

So here's this Zen fool who doesn't care about accumulating things and lives this very simple life. And yet he was a very skilled meditator, very knowledgeable about Buddhist teaching. Ah, here's another one about playing with children. I'll read this again in Japanese first. Long spring days when mists rise, hitting the handball along with the children. I've passed this one too. And this one, here's one that expresses the idea of the Bodhisattva, which is the background of our practice, that we don't awaken just for ourselves.

[30:10]

Actually, that's not possible. As we do this practice, as we sit regularly and are present in this body and mind, we see that we are deeply interconnected with everybody else in the room and with everybody else in our life and in the world and all beings in the world. And so the bodhisattva ideal, which is the background, again, of Zen, which Ryokan really exemplifies in his particular way, is about helping others. And that's not separate from helping oneself, but at some point, our practice, we can let, you know, this idea of non-self in Buddhism, it doesn't mean to get rid of your ego, but we see through our stories about ourselves, and we let go of that, and we see our connectedness. So Yocan once wrote, if these sleeves of my black robe were only whiter, I'd shelter all the people in this up and down world. So maybe I'll close with some poems from the end of his life.

[31:21]

And I mentioned that he wrote sometimes about his loneliness. There's other stories. There's one story about, A friend came to visit, and Ryokan said, oh, I should go get some sake so we can drink together. So Ryokan left. And after quite a while, the friend wondered what happened to Ryokan. He hadn't returned. So he headed down the hill. And there was Ryokan, not far from the hut, sitting, looking up at the moon. Anyway, so this is, you know, you can get a feeling of his foolishness. But the story goes that when he was 70, Ryokan met and fell in love with a beautiful young nun named Teishi. She was 30, so there was this big age difference. And it seems like their,

[32:22]

Relationship was platonic, but there was certainly love expressed. So I'll read you some of the poems they wrote each other. Ryo-Kan, after he first met her, wrote this poem. Was it really you I saw? Or is this joy I still feel? Only a dream. Oh no, that was Tenshin's poem to Ryokan, I'm sorry. And Ryokan's reply was, in this dream world we doze and talk of dreams. Dream, dream on as much as you wish. She wrote to him once, here with you I could remain for countless days and years, silent as the bright moon we gazed at together. Rio Conrad bet, if your heart remains unchanged, we will be bound as tightly as an endless line for ages and ages. Another time he wrote her, in all of heaven and earth, there is nothing more precious than a visit from you on the first day of spring.

[33:39]

So there are many of these poems between them. She later wrote them down. Another one of Ryokan's. The breeze is fresh, the moon so bright. Together, let's stand till dawn as a farewell to my old age. Once he wrote, I'd love to take you anywhere I go, but won't people suspect us of being lovebirds? So, I'll finish with his death poem, 1831. So he was 73, thereabouts. What will remain as my legacy?

[34:43]

Flowers in the spring, the cuckoo in the summer, and the crimson leaves of autumn. So this, you know, simple, maybe simple-minded, foolish guy is a kind of great hero in Centro Zen. Now this is not a practice that any of us maybe could or would want to emulate exactly, but the spirit of, his spirit of appreciating the world and appreciating his practice is something to give us. So comments, responses, anyone, please feel free. Keisan. Speaking of my first Soto teacher, I've been practicing another tradition.

[35:44]

I'm in the library. later to live in the institute and study with him. It turns out his seat name is Ole Miss Sunbury, which I love that he didn't mention, because he's very nice. But yeah, it is so important. So here's just one example. Again, the point of our practice is how do we bring the awareness, each of us in our own way, to our practice in the world here in Chicago in the 21st century. But we have these traditional examples of old Buddhas and Bodhisattvas.

[36:51]

Other questions or responses or comments? George. Can I read a version of one of his poems, which is my favorite? Please. You read a version of it, too, which I think is actually more poetic. But this one I read a long time ago, and it really kind of saddened me. It said, without a jot of ambition in life, I let my nature flow with great will. There are ten days of rice in my bag, and by the hearth, a bundle of firewood. Who prowls of illusion and nirvana, forgetting the equal dusts of name and fortune, listening to the night rain on the roof of my house? I sit at ease, both legs stretched out. His translation is that? Oh, yeah.

[37:54]

Some of the translations I read, including that one, were translations I did with Kaz Tanahashi. Some of them were from Burton Watson and some John Stevens. Other responses? Hi, Carla. Do we have any of his books or translations in this book? You know, I'm not sure, but we're working on the library. We just got a whole bunch of new books donated, so I'll check that. If not, we will. And I can check with you afterwards in case there's one that you can take out. So are some of his poems, I mean, are they still in print? Oh yeah, their books are, yeah, there's a, this is a hard book to get, Three Zen Masters by John Stevens, but it's very good about Ryokan and also Ikkyu and Hakuin. One of the best books of translations is by Burton Watson. I'm sure it's still on print, Ryokan Zen Monk Poets of Japan.

[38:56]

there's another one robe one bowl I think is John Stevens collection and so this sorry this scholarly footnote. The best book about Ryokan is by Ryuichi Abe and Peter Haskell called Great Fool which is a more scholarly, you know, covering the translations of the poems, but also about his life in more detail. So it's the best detailed book about him. Yes, Phil. Since he actually had the name Big Fool or Great Fool, was there some sort of ritual function in the culture that he was a part of to be a full character for other people? That's an interesting question. You know, these names, when people take the precepts formally, they're given dharmanims.

[39:58]

My name, Taigen Shizan, was given by my teacher. It means alternate source, smooth mountain. Dawn's name that I gave her, what do you say in Japanese? Yoren Shokan. Which means dawn, modus, illuminating kindness. so people are given Dharma names. But Daidu, the name that he took, he gave himself. He had other, you know, priest names given by his teacher. And yeah, there is, it's not that he decided, oh, I'm going to grow up and become a fool. It's like he just, he was just being himself, but it fits into this pattern and there are People like this in the Zen tradition very much. So Han Shan, great cold mountain, his name is Cold Mountain, a great poet in China. There are numbers of them who represent this kind of sacred foolishness. That's a motif in Native American traditions too, sacred fool, and in many spiritual traditions.

[41:02]

Part of this practice is to find, to get through our attachments and personal graspings and karma, but then when we do that, who we are in some ways. I'm going to be talking about this in a three-day sitting coming up, who we are kind of flowers. So one of the things I most appreciated when I first started practicing at San Francisco Zen Center many years ago is that the senior people were all kind of weird. They were very particular, each in their own way. And yet, in their own way, sometimes very gruffly, but they were very kind. So this is just Ryokan being Ryokan. This was how he chose to live. He could have been a temple priest in a small temple. He could have been habit of a large monastery, but he chose to just live in this, modestly in this hut and get drunk on Zazen and looking at the moon, you know, and hang out with the children.

[42:08]

So, by worldly standards, certainly foolish still. You want a handshake, Domino? You want a cool mountain poems? The clear water sparkles like crystal. You can see through it easily, right to the bottom. My mind is free from every thought. Nothing in myriad realms can move it. Good. Would you do it again, please, Father? The clear water sparkles like crystal. One can see through it easily, right to the bottom. My mind is free from every thought. Nothing in the myriad realms can move it. Thank you. Yeah, Han Chan, Cold Mountain, is another, you know, actually was a model for Ryokan. So in that sense, Ryokan really appreciated Han Chan. So in some sense, maybe he was adamant himself after Han Chan, who I don't think was a monk, actually.

[43:13]

He had a monk friend who worked in the kitchen of a monastery, I think on Chentai. They would hang out together, and then Hanschan would wander around the mountain just writing poems. And he never published or wrote down anything, but later people went around and saw these poems inscribed on rocks and copied them down. That's the story anyway, one story. Thank you. Harlan. What is the significance of calligraphy? considered mostly in art form. Because, I mean, I noticed that in Judaism, like, there are lots of scrolls of calligraphy. And just the, apart from what the words say, there seems to be meaning just in the actual, you know, figures of art on there. Yeah, so there are people who do English language calligraphy, too, who do very beautiful lettering.

[44:18]

But Chinese characters have a variety of meanings, and all schoolchildren learn to do calligraphy. And when I was in monasteries in Japan, we had times when we would work on calligraphy. And so each of the characters The calligraphy is a kind of expressive way of expressing some of those characters. So we have examples here, Sato-sensei's there. The character one, Ichi, Katsunohashi, a Dogen translator and an old friend of mine, has been here a couple of times doing calligraphy workshops. The scroll out front is just the character one. And, you know, it's the simplest possible, it's the first character, the simplest character, and school children will spend, and it's using a brush, not a ballpoint pen, so it's very different. It's got a texture, and school children will spend, when you study calligraphy, you spend a lot of time just learning to do the one, so you can see it on the way out.

[45:24]

So any last comments, questions, responses? I just wanted to say thank you for that. I thought that was very nice. And that I like that, you know, of course, that she has this thing for kids. And I just wonder where that stems from, or what that's about. And I try to think of what my deal is. And sometimes it's just kind of fun to hang out with kids, because they're different. They're still open. They haven't come up with their own answers yet. They're still open. And it's just, they kind of blossom better over time. And I think it's just really cool. And they're just fun. And so, but then I was also wondering, maybe like this, this love, this love that he had, if there were ever any children?

[46:42]

Like, do you know if he ever had any children? No, and apparently there was a relationship with his son, Mr. Platonic. Okay. But he loved children, and so, Dawn, for those of you who don't know, he's a professional and he does child care, so can relate to your point in terms of that. Yeah, I think there's a way in which when we hang out with children, there's a childishness that we can start to feel the kind of sense of wonder that he talked about in one poem, that we can feel maybe more with children sometimes, that they're not caught up in, certainly, in status and you know, all the things that we get caught up in and thinking, well, you know, I guess commercials now pollute all of us into thinking we need, you know, whatever was in the last commercial to be happy. But children have this kind of simplicity. So yeah, there's many aspects of this in Zen tradition and the child-likeness, which is not exactly the aim of practice because the point is to

[47:52]

to return to something like that with the knowledge of how the world is and how we can respond to it. But real time was most at home with children.

[48:05]

@Transcribed_v004
@Text_v005
@Score_83.88