I vow to taste the juice of death as once. Good afternoon, everyone.

[01:04]

So today I'm going to talk on some... Hello? Hello? Working? Okay. This afternoon I'm going to talk on the several poems by Ryokan in the section entitled Butterfly Dreams. This morning I talked about the meaning of this expression, butterfly dream, and the meanings of this word, dream, in Buddhism.

[02:10]

I said there are two almost opposite ways of using this word, dream. One is dream and delusion. And another is when we wake up from that dream, the things as they are seem to be like a dream. So there are two meanings of dreaming. And those two are completely penetrating each other. That is a complication and contradiction and also a source of humor in Buddhism or the master's humor came from this kind of interpenetration. So sometimes delusion is like an awakening, and awakening is sometimes like a delusion. They are both dreams. Anyway, if you have this book, A Great Fool, the section starts page 181,

[03:13]

And first one, first poem, well, I made a handout. I made this when I had a workshop on Ryokan's poems while I was in Minneapolis. And I selected several poems from this section. So not all of them, and I don't think I can talk on all of them, in one and a half hour. So the first one is one of the most well-known poems of Ryokan, and also one of my favourite poems of Ryokan. This is about a butterfly and a flower. Let me read the English translation. Without intending it, the flower attracts the butterfly.

[04:19]

Without intending it, the butterfly seeks out the flower. When the flower opens, the butterfly comes. When the butterfly comes, the flower opens. I am the same. I may not know other people. and they may not know me, but without knowing one another, we naturally follow the universal law. So this is a poem about the interconnectedness. We are all existing within relationship with others. In this case, Ryo can pick up two examples, a flower and a butterfly. It doesn't necessarily need to be a butterfly.

[05:22]

It can be a bee or any other insect. But somehow this is a poem about spring. When spring comes, somehow the air becomes warm. and the sprout of a plant comes from the ground. It's interesting. And finally a bloomed flower. And when a flower blooms, somehow a butterfly or other insect visits the flower. And I don't know why, exactly why, the reason, but somehow a flower has something to offer to a butterfly or other insect. And the butterfly receives that offering, and yet also those butterflies or other insects offer some help to the plant that is spreading that pollen.

[06:33]

in order to continue the life of the plant. So this is not something special. It's always happening. in spring in any part of this world or even among human society somehow something happening then that can help someone and when the people who receive that offering can offer something, not necessarily to the person or to the flower, but within this world. But how things are interconnected and spread, not only good influence, but also some unwholesome influence can spread in that way. But that is how things are working within this network of interdependent ordination.

[07:38]

Anything? Okay. I'm sorry. So, how shall I do? Hello. Okay. So, now I start to read this poem. I start to read this poem line by line. In this English translation, The first line is, without intending it, the flower attracts the butterfly. This is not really a literal translation. Underneath each of the Chinese characters, I wrote the possible English meaning of each Chinese character.

[08:50]

The first one is, of course, flower, and the word that is translated into intending it is 無心. 無心 is no mind. as a meaning, without intending it, is not mistaken. But this word, mushin, is much larger, broader, or much deeper. It's not simply without knowing or without intention. Mushin is a very important word in Buddhism and also Zen tradition. No mind. No mind means no discriminating mind or no calculating mind. So the plant blooms flowers without any plan, any expectation, any discrimination that I produce nectar for that kind of butterfly, not for the bees.

[10:03]

or I don't want to offer, I want to keep this mine, there's no such calculation or planning. But as a life activity of the plant, somehow, you know, the plant grows and produces nectar. And the next word is invite. In this translation it says attract, but I think attract and invite are different. The flower has no intention to attract, but somehow the flower just blooms. Then somehow that opening of the flower is itself an invitation. and never make choice who can be the customer or client and who cannot, but it's just open, open invitation to everyone.

[11:17]

Of course, some animals or insects don't like nectar, that's okay, but if anyone like or necessarily needs nectar, just offer it. And somehow, also, the butterfly, same word, mushin, so without without or with no mind. With no mind, the butterfly... The original word, I think, is a visit, not a seek. Seek out is, you know, something... I want something to get. But I think the original word is visit. So invitation and visiting. There's no, how can I say, mind to, how can I say, making plan or making benefit.

[12:22]

Somehow, you know, flower just bloom and somehow butterfly just come. There's no calculation, no self-centeredness. but somehow as a natural expression of life force. In the spring, flowers bloom and butterflies visit. And when the flower opens, the butterfly comes. And when the butterfly comes, the flower opens. So the time a flower opens and the time a butterfly visits are exactly the same time. It's kind of an amazing thing, but somehow it's a very natural thing also. In the last Genzoe, we studied about Ginzu, that is a supernatural power.

[13:32]

There are many supernatural powers, It is said as a result of meditation practice, it is said in the Buddhist sutras, we can attain different kinds of miraculous or magical power. And Dogen Zenji discussed what is the miraculous power or supernatural power. And he said he talks about great supernatural power or spiritual power. And he said those magical powers that he said we could attain as a result of meditation practice are small spiritual powers. And he discussed what is the larger, or bigger, or greater spiritual power. And he picked up several koan stories from Zen literatures.

[14:42]

And one of them is about a dream. This is one of the very well-known Chinese Zen masters who was named Does this work? Okay, I have to hold this. No? Okay. The name of the Chinese Zen master is Issan in Japanese or Guishan in Chinese. And he was taking a nap, he was sleeping in his room and he had a dream. And somehow one of his disciples went into his room And then Guishan moved and lying facing the wall.

[15:44]

And when this disciple went out of the room, Guishan, the master, woke up and called him. So that disciple, his name was Gyōsan, came back to the master And Guishan told to his student that, I had a dream. Could you interpret my dream? And yet, Guishan didn't talk about his dream at all, but just said, interpret my dream. And Gyo-san just left and came back with a basin of water and a hand towel, and came back to the master and just offered the basin of water and hand towel.

[16:51]

So, Guishan washed his face and dried his face and hands. That's all, you know, those two people did. And at that time, another disciple of Guishan came in. His name was Kyo Gen. He was also a very well-known Zen master. Anyway, then Guishan told to that person that now this person, Gyo-san, did a great spiritual did, or that is the word, display or perform a great spiritual power. Then he also asked that person, could you interpret my dream? Then that person, Kyogen, also left and came back with a cup of tea and offered the tea to

[17:57]

the master. And Guishan at that time said, the supernatural power or great spiritual powers of two of you are greater than Shariputra and Moggallana. That is the source of this expression, Jin Tzu. Jin Tzu means supernatural power, or superhuman power, or spiritual powers, or there are many, several English, possible English translations. But Dogen then said, you know, this is the origin, or this is real supernatural power, the spiritual powers. When someone, in this case the teacher, wake up, from, you know, sleep.

[18:58]

One of his disciples offered a basin of water to wash his face. So somehow the student knew what is needed for this person to the ability to know what is the best thing to do, to offer. in this certain situation, for the person in front of him, is the greatest supernatural power. So this is not supernatural, this is really natural power. And he said this power is much greater than the ability to do, you know, or something like sitting in a lotus posture and fly in the sky. That is one of the supernatural powers Jesus said in the Buddhist sutras.

[20:05]

That is the point of Dogen. The greatest supernatural power or spiritual power is the ability without making calculation or discrimination, just, you know, see what is the best thing to offer for this person, to the person in front of him or the situation around him. So the most natural power is most supernatural power. That is what Rogen said. And, you know, Ryokan describing here is also a very natural thing. It happens, you know, every spring. And same kind of things happen, you know, all the time and everywhere. So, Dogen said, anything special that can happen only in a certain place, or only at a certain time, and only certain people can do it.

[21:26]

The thing which has such limitation is small spiritual powers. but the great spiritual power or great power is something happening everywhere, anytime, and anyone can do it. So this is really a supernatural power, and that is the most natural thing. This is another way of dreaming. Something special is nothing special. And nothing special is the most special thing. Because we are always looking for something special. And we want to become someone special. That is our thinking mind, our desire. I want to get something special. And I want to become something special. And I want to experience something special.

[22:28]

Often our motivation to start to practice is something like that. I want to find something I don't want. This desire to get something in order to feel something lacking, then I expect I become happier. I become a happy person. My life becomes more fulfilled. But that is not really a natural power. We are looking for something special. Only I can do it. Only I can possess. But the most natural and also at the same time supernatural power is being natural. Being nothing special. And this is one of the examples of very ordinary things.

[23:36]

Flower opens, a butterfly visits. And yet, somehow, these natural activities allow living beings to continue. their lives, continue their stream or flow of their life force to the next generation. So this is really kind of an interesting thing. I mean, maybe I often talk about my examples. When I was a teenager, I had many questions about life. Why I have to... I want to know why I have to live and what's the best way to live. And I had many doubts about the things I was taught or I was expected

[24:45]

by my parents, teachers, and the Japanese society. At that time, in the 60s and 70s, Japan was really busy to make money. When I was a high school student, I thought high school is a factory. to produce a part of this money-making machine. And the entire Japanese society was like one huge money-making machine. And school is not a place to study truth. but school is simply a factory to produce part of that machine. And I couldn't find any means to live in that way. That's why I wanted to escape or drop out from that machine. But I didn't know any alternative way of life.

[25:50]

So I had many questions, but I didn't know the answer at all. But during that time, I had a chance to read my teacher's book, Ichiyan Roshi's book, and I found... I didn't understand. In that book, he basically wrote about his experience of searching the way. And he found... When he was there, teenager, he had the same kind of question, and he devoted his life to find the answer. And to do so, he studied Western philosophy at the university, and somehow he became a Buddhist monk. And this Zazen practice was his answer. So after he found the answer, he continued to practice and share the practice and the teaching with younger generation.

[26:59]

That was basically what he wrote. And I found somehow I wanted to live like him. So I was looking for something, but I didn't know what I was looking for. At that time, somehow, that was his first book. So, in a sense, the flower of his dharma opened. Somehow, I visited. I don't know why. I didn't understand what was his answer. I thought I understood that he had the same question. So, somehow, I wanted to live like him. That's all, you know, that is kind of an invitation, like a flower opening. Somehow, a butterfly wanted to visit it. And that, you know, determined the rest of my life. After that, I have been doing the same thing.

[28:03]

So, somehow, something happens, something, you know, something responds. or someone starts to do something, or some people respond. I think when Suzuki Roshi came to this country, something happened. Somehow he started to just practice. Then many young American people somehow responded and came to Suzuki Roshi. And we are in the kind of stream of that river head. I think not only then in America, but Buddhism in general is the same. Somehow a person whose name was Shakyamuni found something, and then other people somehow

[29:07]

get together to study what Shakyamuni discovered, and that was Dharma. And that stream still continues until today. That's why somehow we are here. If that person is not awakened to the Dharma, that one person, we are not here. You know, more than 2,000 years later, somehow we are here. And within this 2,500 years, somehow the same thing happens in each generation. Excuse me. And this continuation is expressed by Dogen, this is also I taught during the Genzoe, with the expression of kato.

[30:09]

Kato is, katsu is kuzu, and to is wisteria. Both are vines. And kato, usually, you see, negative meaning. That means entanglement, when two or more people are living closely and there are many different emotions that start to happen. Love and hatred and respect and looking down despise, all those mixtures are happening and yet somehow those people cannot spread out. So there are many different kinds of entanglement that start to exist. That entanglement is called katto, you know, different kinds of vines entwine each other, and we don't know what is what.

[31:18]

It's so complicated. So, one of the meanings, or more common meanings of this word katto is entanglement, negative thing, and to cut off that entanglement is one meaning of attaining enlightenment. and also things happening in our mind using many different kinds of thinking. Something seems very positive and I want that, but somehow from another side I don't think it's not so good. So within our mind, all different ideas and ways of thinking, intertwine each other and we are confused and we give up. But to cut off that entanglement means to see the reality as it is. That is one meaning of so-called enlightenment in Zen.

[32:23]

Cut off our discriminating mind and see things straightforwardly. That is the usual usage of this expression, kattō. But Dōgen, he's a kind of a magician of wording, using words. He used this negative expression in a perfect, completely positive way. And he used this, you know, intertwining or entanglement. as the way Dharma has been transmitted from Shakyamuni to Mahakasyapa, Zen tradition, and Ananda, and after 28 generations, it's reached to Bodhidharma, and Bodhidharma went to China. And when he went to China somehow, not a big number, but some number of Chinese people started to practice this strange foreign monk, Indian monk.

[33:32]

And that is the beginning of the history of Zen. So when someone comes, like a Bodhidharma, some people start to come and practice. You know, that kind of thing is happening in each and every generation. And that's how Buddhism has been transmitted and also spread. So, this is really a natural thing, but very, in a sense, a special thing. Even one of the persons in our lineage couldn't practice, when it didn't come, then we are not here. So it's really amazing, you know, this lineage has been transmitted until today. But that is how, you know, this interconnectedness or network of interdependent origination has been maintained in the history.

[34:44]

So this is something very natural, nothing special, but this is a really precious thing. So we have to really appreciate it. And after this, he started to talk about not only flowers and butterflies, but between people, between people, the same thing is happening. He says, I am the same. I may not know other people and they may not know me. I'm not sure this is people or not, plural or singular. It seems singular to me. I don't know the person who is in front of me. and the person in front of me doesn't know me. So it's not many people and him, but it's one-on-one.

[35:47]

And probably, it doesn't say, but probably this is, he's talking, not talking, but writing about his experience in takuhatsu. He supported his life and practice by doing takuhatsu or begging. He didn't live in a temple. He lived in a small hermitage in the mountains. So he had no income. So he supported his life by doing takuhatsu or begging. So begging is his practice, main practice. And he didn't have Sangha. He lived by himself. So, whenever he could walk outside, he did takuhatsu. During winter, sometimes he couldn't even walk outside. But whenever he could, he walked.

[36:49]

Especially in the spring, he enjoyed walking outside after a long winter. The place where Ryokan lived, had a lot of snow. It was facing the Japan Sea. That means the cold wind from Siberia come crossing the Japan Sea. That means carry a lot of humidity and hit the mountain in Japan and go up and become snow. So sometimes In that area, they have 10 feet of snow. Entire town is really buried underneath the snow. So, they have really a lot of snow and long winter. So, in some of his poems, he wrote how, you know,

[37:52]

enjoyable spring is. So he's really energetic when spring has come. So probably the first day of the winter, he could walk and with takahatsu, he'd go down to the village and started to do takahatsu. And that is the time he saw some flowers blooming and a butterfly is flying. And he was walking doing takahatsu. Somehow, You know, when he did takuhatsu, somehow people come and make even a tiny donation. People offer a tiny donation to Ryokan. Maybe that is what he is describing. So flowers open, you know, butterfly start to fly, and monk, ryokan, start to walk outside and do takuhatsu, then somehow this person came out from the house, maybe, and made a tiny bit of offering.

[39:04]

Probably that is what he is describing here. And when we do takohatsu or begging, we put this black robe, and we wear the straw sandals, and put a bamboo hat. So we don't see the half of the world. We only see this area. So I don't really see that person who make donation. So Ryokan didn't know who is that person. And because he was wearing the big bamboo hat, the person probably didn't see Ryokan. So they don't know each other. And yet somehow, you know, when spring comes, Ryokan start to do tako-hatsu, and somehow this person came out and make a tiny bit of

[40:08]

This is, I think, what he is writing here. And Takahatsu or begging is really a powerful practice. I'm sorry in this country we can't practice Takahatsu in the way I did in Japan. But, you know, I did Takahatsu, I walked on the street and stand in front of each and every houses and shops. And we just say ho, ho means gold or oryoki, how. And, you know, people don't know who I am. But somehow people trust this oryoki and this robe. That means People don't make offering to me as Shōhaku, as a person, but they make offering for the Dharma, or for the Buddha, or Buddhist, they trust Buddhist tradition.

[41:23]

They have no reason they could trust me as a person, but somehow they make even a tiny little offering. This is really something. There's no individual connection between this person, Shōhaku, and that person. We don't know about each other, and we may never meet each other again. But somehow, this tiny bit of offering is coming. And so, when I did Takahatsu, it's really also but it's really difficult. I have to examine my motivation. If I'm living and doing things for the sake of dharma or just I live on Beijing because I don't want to work.

[42:26]

And that was true. I didn't want to work in order to make money. But at that time, while I supported my life, I lived in a small temple as a caretaker, and I did a five-day session with a few people, and I was working on translation of Dogen's text and also Uchiyama's writings. Somehow, I don't know why, but Japanese people don't need to read English. they can live in Japanese. So what I was doing has nothing to do with Japanese people. So I cannot say I'm working and doing something meaningful to this person or these people. But I thought this is for the sake of Dharma, but I cannot say I'm doing something important.

[43:28]

because it means nothing for Japanese people. So I had to examine my motivation, if this is for myself or for the benefit of this person, or for the Dharma. Because the result is not... I couldn't see the result. I was not sure if my translation could be... published and read by Western people or not. So I really had no idea, but somehow that was my life, my practice. So I did, and in order to support my activity, I did Akohatsu. I believed so, but Half is about dream and not dream. But half of myself also thinks, I don't want to work. It's kind of silly to commute in a crowded train to work and to make money.

[44:38]

I don't want to live that way. So, from another side, this might be just, I want to do what I want to do. So I had to really strictly examine my motivation. So Zazen is a really strict teacher, but also Tako Hatsu is another very strict teacher. I cannot deceive myself. I can deceive other people, but I cannot deceive myself. So, when I read this kind of poems by Ryokan about Degin or Takahatsu, he was like my Dharma brother or he was my teacher. He really did live in that way. So, this kind of poems are really kind of an encouragement to me. because I felt not only me, but people like Ryokan did in the same way, practice in the same way.

[45:49]

So this poem was one of the best encouragement to me to continue to practice in that way. I think that's what this means. I'm the same, I don't know... I don't think this is, may not know, but I don't know. It's definitely she didn't know the person who made that offering. And the person did not know who Ryokan is somehow, but somehow, not only the person who make offering to Ryokan, but also Ryokan made offering to those people. That is what Ryōkan wrote in one of his poems about Takahatsu. He said, by carrying the empty bow, Oryōki-bō, this practice offers people to, how can I say, to give a chance to make offering.

[47:03]

Practice dāna. So this is also one of the ways to continue the Dharma. So for him, taku-hatsu is not the method to support his life or his practice. What he wrote, taku-hatsu is itself practice. But in my case, my practice was to sit for a five-day session and work on translation. So when I did tako-hatsu, I needed to be kind of effective. So I cannot write ryokan. Ryokan didn't care to start to... He often started to play with children, and he forgot about Takahatsu. And he gained anything at all from the game. But that was his practice, and playing with children is his practice.

[48:07]

It's kind of an offering for him, as I talked about his playing with children last year. So this is the way how the Dharma has been shared and transmitted. So in the last line he said, but without knowing each other from another, we naturally follow the universal law The original word Ryōkan used is emperor's law, laws by emperor, but this emperor means not the head of the country, but that means the nature, the regulation, not regulation, but principle of the nature allow us to live in this way, somehow just be myself and try to do what I need to do.

[49:09]

and somehow it can be offering to others and other people respond to what I'm doing. What is happening now is the same thing. I have been sitting for myself. I didn't you know, practice tazen to talk about tazen to other people. But I just practiced for myself and my teacher just practiced for himself. So his practice was not to teach me, but his practice was an invitation for me to go there and continue his practice and I have been practicing for my own. I have no desire to, you know, how can I say, service to people.

[50:15]

But this is my practice. And because I was invited, I come and talk about myself. There's no desire to, you know, ask you to practice in the way I'm talking. I'm very happy if what I'm saying right now is helpful for your practice. This is like a flower of the nectar. And yet somehow people come and listen to me even though my English is not so great. Somehow people come and it looks like they're happy. And that makes me happy. That is how, you know, we can share instead of, you know, this is not a trading. But somehow I talk about myself and my practice and my understanding of this practice.

[51:18]

Then somehow it's accepted. And that makes me happy. That is how this Dharma has been transmitted and spread. Both flowers and butterflies help each other, make offerings to each other. That is the way this network of interdependent ordination really works. We can exist and live and practice only within this network. We cannot live even one day or even one moment without a relationship with this connection. I think that is what he is writing here. I'd like to go to the next poem. This poem about the flower and the butterfly is not really about a dream.

[52:25]

but in the next poem he used this word, butterfly dream. A forest of masts, ships from every corner of the land, disgorging their cargo onto the docks. The boatmen chanting, I O, in prompt music of the piers, Yesterday, I went to a temple in the mountains. But there, too, it was just butterfly dreams in spring." So, first two lines, he described the way people are working in the port. The town, Ryokan's hometown, that name was Izumozaki, was a port town. And there is an island in the Japan Sea named Sadogashima.

[53:33]

And Sadogashima was famous for its gold mine. They produced gold. So this port, Izumozaki, was an important port for the government. And Ryokan's family, for many generations, was the head of that town. But somehow, and Ryokan was the oldest son, first son of that family, so he had to take over the family property and responsibility. But somehow, when he was 18, he escaped from that responsibility and became a monk, became a monk. Anyway, so probably this is a description of the town he had grown up in. There were many ships from all different kinds of places in Japan that came, and all different kinds of goods were coming and going, and people were working, but how were people living?

[54:52]

within this interconnection. So this is a description of the real world. And in the third line, he said, yesterday I went to a temple in the mountains. So before he came to this port, he went to a temple in the mountains. That means deep mountain, quiet place, and maybe he just, you know, sat there. To me, this is like an actual life in the society. And, you know, like coming to zendo and sit is, you know, a thing of thought. We are actually living two different worlds. If we are Zen practitioners, we need to... I have a family and I have a job, so I'm not really a monk.

[55:59]

I'm not so different from the lay people. So I work in both worlds. Because of my practice, this sitting and letting go and stay in a quiet place is my job. And it's also my practice. I think in that way I feel I'm very lucky. My job and my practice is the same thing. I don't need to go to a market place. to make money, or to make income. But usually people do. So he is kind of describing both worlds. The world of just sitting and seeing dreams as dreams. But in the marketplace, we cannot say those things are dreams.

[57:08]

And we can see that the movement of those commercial goods and also movement of money is dream. When we are in the marketplace, we need to work and follow the rules of the marketplace. So, you know, money, in a sense, is a real thing. And commercial goods is a real thing. And people's desire Without people's desire, those commercial goods cannot move. So, people's desire is also important. But when we sit in the zendo and letting go of thought, that kind of movement or activity is like a dream. But when we are in the marketplace, sitting in the zendo is like a dream. So, Both are like a dream. And if we stay only one side, we don't really know.

[58:14]

We only think that is dream. And those people live in a delusion. That is not good. And people who only know the work in the marketplace, you know, may think sitting in a zendo is just a fun. just a wasting of time or a bad living. But when we know both, somehow, we can see both are dreams. And our life becomes really completely, I can say, interpenetration of two different dreams, coming and going. And we kind of a back and forth between this dream and that dream. I think this is really, sometimes it's difficult and painful, almost painful, but sometimes, more often, it's very, how can I say, educational.

[59:23]

Our way of thinking, our way of doing things, and our way of behaving, doing things, become flexible and more broader. So I really appreciate, you know, doing both. Anyway, so to see both, you know, and the world of just sitting and seeing all these forms are being, and also work in the marketplace, and what Buddhist monks are discussing are agreeing. I think both need to be part of our life. And that, in a sense, those two sides negate each other, and yet at the same time support each other. And it makes our life kind of

[60:26]

more interesting and broader and more flexible and more joyful. So finally he said, but there too it was just butterfly dreams in spring, both people working in the court and people just sitting in the deep mountains and those dreams, spring dreams. And as the dream is reality, as I said this morning, that dream is reality. When we awake, we start to see reality is a kind of a dream. So that is the way we awake to the reality that is like a dream.

[61:33]

So that is our practice, I think. Let me go to the next poem, page two. In this poem he is thinking about his own life, or the beginning of his life, or our lives. Where did my life come from? What is the beginning of my life? Where will it go? Meditating by the window of my tumbledown hut, I search my heart, absorbed in silence, but I search and search, and still don't know where it all began.

[62:44]

How will I ever find where it ends? Even the present moment cannot be pinned down. Everything changes. Everything is empty. And in that emptiness, this I exists. Only for a little while. How can one say anything is or is not? best just to hold to these little thoughts, let things simply take their way, and so be natural and at your ease." So, in this poem he also points out, our life is like a dream. So first he said, where did my life come from?

[63:50]

What is the beginning or origin of my life? And of course, we don't know. When I started to think who I am, I was already a teenager. Before that, I didn't think who I was. I didn't think about me. I was just enjoying being a kid. But then we start to think, who I am? What is this? Why I have to be in this way? I already lived no more than 10 years. So I was already in a sense, limited, conditioned. And I started to think, what is the origin of my life? And of course, we don't know. I really wanted to know for what this world was created.

[64:53]

If I found the reason why this world and we were created, then I could find how I should live, what the meaning of life. So I tried to find the beginning of our life, but somehow I couldn't find anything. And that is what Ryokan is saying. This is just in the process of cause and result, cause and result, and cause and result. And we trace back result to the cause and result to the cause. We cannot find anything. And in modern science, this world started with Big Bang. And it said, before Big Bang, there's no time and space. Time and space were created at the time of Big Bang. But I still can question, what is it like, you know, before space and time were created?

[66:05]

Is it, you know, accidentally happens, or there must be some cause of Big Bang? Then fat was the cause of Big Bang. So there's no way to find the original first cause of these things happening now. So we don't know where we came from and we really don't know where we are going. Or even I don't know how long I can live. because it's empty and because it's impermanent. So, this is kind of interesting. He's sitting, probably, I think he's sitting in Zazen, but he's thinking in his Zazen. meditating.

[67:07]

In this translation, it says meditating, but this original word Ryōkan used is doku-za. Doku-za means sitting alone. So, I'm pretty sure this sitting alone means the Zen. He was sitting by himself in his hermitage, and by the window of my tumbled-down hat. That means not so... not a luxurious, you know, house. And I searched my heart. The first two Chinese characters in the next line is gōtsu gōtsu. This gōtsu gōtsu is a word Dōgen Zenji used in Fukanza Zenji. In the quotes, Dogen quotes the question and answer between a monk and a yaku-san.

[68:12]

What do you think in immovable sitting? And the yaku-san said, think of not thinking. Then the monk asked, how do you think of not thinking? And the yaku-san said, hishidyo, or in my translation, beyond thinking. In this you know, expression or koan, this word, immovable sitting, is go-tsu go-tsu chi. So when Ryokan used this word, go-tsu go-tsu, this referred to zazen. So he was sitting by himself, by the wind, so he was practicing zazen. And, next line, he said, I search my heart I don't like this translation. He doesn't look for his heart. But this third word is quietly, that is in silence.

[69:19]

And the last two Chinese characters are jìn shì. This jìn shì is a Buddhist technical term that is one of the functions of our mind. It's not, how can I say, not coarse... What is the word? I forget. Very subtle thinking. Not thinking, I like this, I hate that, but much more deeper and subtle way of our mind moving. That is called Jin Shi. Literally, Jin means to search or to visit, and Shi is thinking, but I don't think this is, you know, he was looking for his heart. That doesn't make sense to me at all. And he continued the same word, jinshi, in the beginning of the next line.

[70:28]

So it seems he continued. And he said, I search and search and still don't know where it all began. There's no way you can see the beginning of this life. How will I ever find where it ends? So we don't also know where it ends. There's no beginning and no end. Somehow I am here for a while, and here Ryōkan is sitting quietly by himself. So this is only reality right now, right here. We don't know the beginning, and we don't know the future, the end. But somehow the reality is only this moment. Right now, right here, this person is sitting.

[71:30]

But all reality we can live. And another thing, this is also important in Dogen's teaching, this present moment also doesn't really exist. this present moment has no length. If there is even the slightest length, still we can cut into two. And this part is already past, and this part, another part, is still in the future. So this present moment has no length. It's really zero. This present moment is just a border or boundary between past and the future. So the only thing is the time which is already gone and the time which has not yet come. So this moment is not time.

[72:33]

This is the important point in Dogen's insight about time and being, and he said in Shobogenzo Uji, being and time are just really the same thing. It's not two separate things. But in our mind, thinking mind, we think time is like a a stream that flows from the beginning, the past, to the future. And now, this moment is part of this flow. And within our mind, we make a story. I'm here because something happened in the past. And because I'm doing this right now, right here, probably tomorrow, something happens. Actually, the day after tomorrow, I need to go to Japan. This is kind of a, you know, schedule.

[73:40]

And I made kind of a story, you know, because I have been doing such and such things. Next week, I need to go to Japan. And I understand that, so I accept that plan. But as a reality, reality is only this moment. Next week, or going to Japan, is already still in the future, and it has nothing. It's not really here. But only in my story about my life, I'm thinking, next Monday I'm going to Japan. But that is only thinking of this moment. You know, plan or idea or desire is only this moment. And this moment has no end. That means this moment also doesn't really exist.

[74:44]

So what is existing? Nothing. Nothing is really existing. That is what this dream means. Our life is really like a dream. And this is not a heuristic view, but this dream is a real thing. So we have to really attentively live within this dream-like reality. That is how we live as a bodhisattva, without clinging to anything. Anything means clinging neither ourselves nor the object of our sense organs. But somehow we try to offer whatever we can do. This is bodhisattva practice. And this is possible because everything is like a dream.

[75:50]

So even the present moment cannot be done. Everything changes. Everything is empty, really like a dream. And in that emptiness, This I exists within this dream. Somehow, I dream of shōhaku, the same as the chuantsū, or the butterfly dreams chuantsū, and that is solid and unmistakable. And as a dream of butterfly, Shōhaku is solid and unmistakable. So, because Shōhaku is a Buddhist priest, as a responsibility of a Buddhist priest, I talk about my understanding of Buddhist teaching. what I am doing now. I'm trying to do my best to share my understanding and my experience and my practice with people who are here.

[77:07]

That is how I respect my dream of as a solid and mistakable person named Shōhaku, as a Buddhist priest. So still this is a dream. That means I cannot cling to what I'm doing and I say, I do this, therefore I am a great person, or I'm a good priest, or I'm a good Buddhist. Then I It's kind of a happiness. I define what I'm doing. So I try just to do it, as I believe. And when it's gone, you know, it's already gone, so I have to face another next moment. So moment by moment, there's no trace.

[78:10]

That is another thing Dogen said. Our practice without trace, without defilement is great spiritual power. That means without clinging or attaching to ourselves and to what we are doing and to the people and things we are working with. Awakening and practice within that emptiness. And within that emptiness there is I for my, in my case, as a Buddhist priest. So I try to do my best. When we practice in this way, being free from our own self-made stories, then we can be a part of this universal movement.

[79:12]

Best just to hold to these little thoughts. Just to hold to these little thoughts. These little thoughts. Whatever thoughts are little. There might be some relatively larger thoughts, but thoughts are still just thoughts. And let things simply take their way. And so be natural and at your ease. I think this is the same as what he said in the poem I taught this morning. Just find the joy, and moment by moment, and flow in a harmonious way with this natural movement. Pardon me?

[80:24]

Yeah, there are many people, but not... how can I say? Not so many modern people. You know, people like, for example, like Basho, and teaching in the peace ceremonies, and, you know, high poet like Bashō, they really enjoy impermanence. And within impermanence, they discover eternity. You know, things are always changing and nothing stays forever, but that is a source of Japanese sense of beauty. you know, like a plastic flower that doesn't, you know, change the color, of course it changes, you know, in a long period of time, but an actual living flower doesn't stay, you know, so long.

[81:37]

That's why it's beautiful. So impermanence makes a flower beautiful. So the flower is really like a dream. It's there, yet it's not there. And it's not there, and it's there. So it's really like a dream. This is really a... How can I say? not simply in Buddhist teaching, but in Japanese culture, this idea, not idea, this attitude, to find eternity within impermanence, and to find a boundless space within tiny, tiny space. That is, again, what Bogen said in Jinzū. He quoted from the Vimalakirti Sutra, that one mustard seed can contain Mount Sumeru, or one hair follicle can contain a vast ocean.

[82:50]

That's not an idea, but not a sense of, how can I say, this is a freedom or liberation from dichotomies. Something small is really small, and something big is really big, but actually there is no such dichotomy. That is the very basic teaching of Mahāyāna Buddhism. And Zen, and also many of Japanese culture, continue this kind of, not understanding, but attitude toward life, impermanence, is not something negative, but within impermanence we see eternity. This is the same thing Dogen said, you know, in each and every tiny drop of dew, the boundless moonlight is reflected.

[83:55]

This is a very basic motif of Japanese culture or Japanese poetry. Not only poetry, but like a practice like peace ceremony or flower arrangement. Kate wants to read, she's 18 to 4. The next one is a very long poem, so maybe I cannot talk. Next one is kind of a funny point. So, just let me read. I don't have time to talk line by line, but just let me. This is his kind of a joke. Joke about impermanence. This is a colophon for a painting of a skeleton.

[85:04]

Everything that arises from conditions will cease when these conditions come to an end. Again, impermanence. But from where did these conditions arise? From previous conditions, of course. Then, how about the first condition? Where does it come from? It's the same question as he said in the previous point. When you arrive here, words fail your thinking, words fail you, and thinking is simply no use. There's no way to think more than that. I brought all this to the old woman, who's my neighbor to the east, but the old woman didn't like it at all. She doesn't care about such a question. So I told it to the old man, who is my neighbor to the west, and the old man just frowned and walked away.

[86:16]

You know, this question is a question by both settlers, but not so many people in the marketplace are not interested in this kind of question. tried writing it down on a rice cake and feeding it to a dog. Now he's joking. But even the dog wouldn't take it. So this kind of patient is good for nothing. My choice of words must be bad. I thought my language must be a bit confused, so I rolled arising and ceasing into one big hole and gave it to the skeleton lying in the field. Instantly, the skeleton stood up and started to sing and dance for me.

[87:28]

Its song went on and on, resonating through the past, the present, the future. So this is the song and dance of impermanence. This impermanence continues through past, present, and future. That is a very interesting point. Its dance's subtlety revealed all the realms of sentient life, Three times the song was repeated, three times the dance performed, and then it stopped. The moon had sunk below the horizon, and I heard the midnight bell tolling in the city of Chang'an. Do you know Chang'an? Chang'an is the name of a city in China. which was the capital of China in Tongtang dynasty.

[88:33]

And this Chang'an or Chō'an in Japanese pronunciation means eternal peace. So this name of the city is used as a metaphor to point out nirvana, eternal peace. So, where, you know, this skeleton is singing and dancing, the eternal peace revealed. This is a joke, but it's a good joke, I think. Meaningful joke. Well, it's already almost four. Thank you very much for listening. I really enjoyed talking about the ryokans. Kind of a serious and yet funny joke. And I hope I can come again next year.

[89:39]

So thank you for everything. Thank you very much.

[89:44]

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