This poem that we've been studying, sitting with, practicing with... The way is not difficult. Just stop picking and choosing, or for one who refuses to pick and choose, or for one who has no preferences. And I've mentioned that this translation of Stephen Mitchell's, for one who is not attached to their preferences, I kind of leaned in that direction because I found it so difficult to imagine having no preferences. And then someone in the class that I'm teaching Thursday night brought up, just for that very reason, she likes these translations who say, just give up picking and choosing.

[01:21]

Just refuse to pick and choose. It has that kind of vastness of vow, like, beings are numberless, I vow to save them. You know, it has that kind of boundlessness that imagining that it's possible to give up attachment to our preferences kind of narrows it down a little bit. So it gives me a new... that's what I like about it when we all take up something and study it together. None of us has the last word on it, and everybody has a fresh way of seeing it that we can share with each other. And I really appreciated this way of seeing it. It's just a vast and impossible task, and I want to face that direction anyhow.

[02:25]

That's the direction I want to move in my life, even though there's no end to the practice. There's no end to the effort. But there's something about this, just giving up picking and choosing, that also relates to something I talk about often, this just throwing yourself into your life. You know, when we're sewing Buddha's robe, we take refuge in Buddha with each stitch. And I mention to every class, the translation, the literal translation of the Japanese words for taking refuge in Buddha are namo kiei butsu, is the Japanese, and this namu means,

[03:29]

the closest meaning is, oh yes! And kiei means to plunge into, with nothing held back, with no reservation. And butsu is Buddha. So we say namo kiei butsu, namo kiei ho, ho is Dharma, namo kiei so, so is Sangha. So this Japanese version of taking refuge is just to plunge into, completely, with nothing held back. And you know, you may be bored hearing me talk about this, this is a very important to me, way of understanding our practice. And one of the reasons it's so important to me is the example that I experienced when

[04:35]

I first came to practice, of people whom I saw just throwing themselves into the practice with no reservation. Chief among them, I think, among the first people I met was Katagiri Roshi, whose enthusiasm for practice, whose complete kind of body, mind and spirit plunging into practice was so apparent all the time, his sort of total and wholehearted approach was so infectious and so inspiring and so wonderful to be with, that I want to present it to you again and again, hoping that you will, I present it to you in words, and it's the direction also

[05:42]

that I take in my life, I try, and I can't, and I try, but this is my vow to throw myself in to practice and I recommend it to you for the very reason that when you're wholehearted about what you do, you have the joy of being wholehearted, not divided, not ambivalent, but just completely doing what you're doing. And this kind of enthusiasm is so supportive of everyone around you, and it's so supportive of your own life, and it's very much related to this mind of complete faith, or this mind of complete trust, to trust in yourself and trust in the moment enough to just do it,

[06:47]

whatever is in front of you. I was so surprised when someone who's a fairly new resident here told me that she was cleaning the bathroom or something, you know, doing something quite ordinary, but doing it very enthusiastically because that's how she likes to do things. And someone who'd been around a while said, oh, you're so enthusiastic, that'll be gone in a month or so, and I thought, what a shame, what a shame for those of us who are practicing to be so discouraging to a new student, and what a shame for someone to feel that way about their practice. Gee, you know, if it isn't what you want to do, find something you want to do and do that, you know? If this isn't what you love, find what you do love and do it. This is a lot about what practice is, is to find out what's the most important thing,

[07:56]

do I really want to do, how do I want to live my life, and do it with all you've got, give it all you've got. What are you saving it for? You know, that very energy and enthusiasm that you spend renews itself and replenishes itself. It's an endless fountain. And when you hold back and save it, you just kind of pinch it off and squeeze it down to a drip instead of a flood. When you do things, you know, do whatever's in front of you without picking and choosing and do it fully and wholeheartedly, the energy keeps renewing itself, it doesn't go away.

[09:00]

It doesn't get used up. That very vitality will keep the flow going. And the timidity of holding back just kind of dams it up. So, I hope that new students who are here with great enthusiasm will not find it dulled and damped. And I hope new students with energy and enthusiasm will kind of revitalize some people who've forgotten why they came here, forgotten what their motivation is, or forgotten to enjoy their practice.

[10:02]

Please enjoy your practice. Please enjoy each breath. Someone said they were smiling in the, you know, I don't know, in the meal line during the silent period, and someone said, not so much levity. Well, let's have a lot of levity, let's have so much levity that we all just kind of lift each other up. Life is too serious to take it so seriously, as my friend Lou says. It's true that we practice with a sense of urgency. It's true that the verse of the Han, which got put on upside down and sanded off and hasn't been put on again, but the verse of the Han says, you know, life and death, birth

[11:09]

and death is the great matter. Impermanent, quickly passing. Awake, awake each one. Don't waste time. It's true that we practice each moment with that sense of urgency, but that doesn't mean we have to be so serious about it. We can still enjoy it. We can still enjoy this life, even though it's brief, even though it's gone in a flash. All the more reason to enjoy it while it's here. So please, those of you who are new and fresh and full of enthusiasm, help those of us who are kind of old and jaded and who need a little refreshment to remember why we left the life

[12:21]

we lived before to come here and do this practice. Life. Not to get something, not to accomplish something, but to be fully, vitally present in our life as it is right now. Not for some time later when it's better, different, more like we imagined it to be, more like we thought we wanted it to be. The life that you thought you wanted, this perfect life that you imagined, exists only in your imagination. This life that we have to live is this one right now, as we are, just like this. Thanks to our trustee librarian, Hal, I found out that there's another book of lectures

[13:30]

on Xin Xin Ming. There are many commentaries on Xin Xin Ming. One of the things in this introduction is that it tells about a great many commentaries on Xin Xin Ming, which is known as the first Zen poem. And this happens, The Eye Never Sleeps, is a series of lectures given by Genpo Mirzal, a disciple of Maizumi Roshi, on this poem. And in it is an introduction by Maizumi Roshi, and I'd like to share some of it with you. Maizumi Roshi, as you know, died just this year, and he was one of the foremost founders of Soto Zen in America. He began teaching shortly after Suzuki Roshi, and his sangha, Zen Center of Los Angeles,

[14:36]

and all of its offspring, and this sangha are sort of two of the major sanghas of Soto Zen in America, together also with Katagiri Roshi's sangha in Minneapolis, which came some years later. So he says, an outstanding characteristic of the poem is that it is written in genuine Chinese without using any Sanskrit or Pali Buddhist terms. This is known as the first Zen poem, and it directly and vividly expresses the Zen spirit in simple, compact form. The main themes expressed in Shin Ching Ming derive from one of the few authentic writings of Bodhidharma. We have little information about the life of the third ancestor to whom this poem is

[15:48]

attributed, though it may be of a slightly later date than that. According to the Denko Roku, he was a layman over 40 years old, suffering from leprosy when he met the second ancestor for the first time in 551 of the Christian era, being deeply impressed with this layman's capacity for the Dharma. Riko shaved the third ancestor's head and named him Seng San, which means Jewel of the Community. He was gradually cured of his illness, and after they had practiced together for two years, Riko gave him the robin bow, signifying the transmission of the Dharma. Anticipating the persecution of Buddhists in China prophesied by Bodhisattva, Riko ordered his successor to hide in the mountains and not to teach. The third ancestor remained in seclusion for over 24 years, and he later met the monk

[16:50]

Dao Shin and transmitted the Dharma to him. And after that, he moved to a mountain near Canton for three years, and then he returned to his original mountain and died in 606. It is said that he passed away standing under a big tree with his palms together in Gassho. The title Shin Shin Ming is translated as Verses on the Faith Mind. The title of a poem is sometimes likened to the forehead, which expresses a person's unique characteristics. In Shin Shin Ming, Shin is generally understood as faith. However, the word is also used in a different sense in the context of verses. As for example, at the very end, Shin Shin Pu-er, Faith Mind or Not To, Pu-er Shin Shin,

[17:53]

non-dual faith mind. The translator renders these lines as to live in this faith is the road to non-duality, because the non-dual is one with the trusting mind. In this context, faith does not have the usual meaning of having faith in something. This is something we talked about in our group this afternoon. I think it was our group this afternoon. It's not having faith in something. No, maybe it was in practice discussion. Some faith in something, because that suggests faith in something outside yourself. We say at the beginning of the ordination ceremony, in faith that we are Buddha, we enter Buddha's way.

[18:54]

Faith in Buddhism is more faith that than faith in something, which suggests something outside yourself. But Maizumi Roshi says, in this context, faith does not have the usual meaning of having faith in something, but rather that faith is the very fact of existence of reality itself. Dogen Zenji says, without attaining Buddhahood, the faith won't manifest. Where the faith manifests, Buddhas and ancestors manifest. The Nirvana Sutra states, great faith is no other than Buddha nature. Kozan Garyu says that 1,700 koans, this is the whole collection of koans, are altogether the expression of this mind of faith.

[19:58]

The word Ming means written expression and also warnings or admonitions. Hence, the title means the verbal expression of the fact that the very nature of existence and of all the phenomenal world are no other than the faith mind. The Shinshin Ming declares, although all dualities come from the one, do not be attached even to this one. That is to say, at the bottom of the two, there is one. And at the bottom of the one, there is zero. And that zero is just this, the unborn one mind, which is the faith mind. This faith mind is the mind with which we sit.

[21:21]

This faith mind is the mind which, what I'm always saying, what is it that gets out of bed and goes to the Zen Do, when I want to stay asleep? It's just this faith mind. Whatever I say, it just gets up and goes to the Zen Do. From the time of its composition up to the present day, the Shinshin Ming has been published and translated repeatedly by various scholars and appreciated by different Chinese and Japanese teachers who have written numerous commentaries on it. The master's frequent references to the poem have authenticated it as a genuine expression of the spirit of Zen.

[22:26]

And then he just lists one after another of commentaries on this poem. And I find among those, one that I'm fascinated to see if I can discover, if there's any English translation of, because the teacher whom I mentioned over and over again, because he was the teacher of Joshin-san, my sewing teacher, and he said, you know, he said, you know, he said, you know, Homeless Kodo, Suwakikoda Roshi, apparently did a commentary on Shinshin Ming. And I'm going to see if I can find out if any of it's been translated into English, because I feel such a strong affinity for Suwakikoda Roshi. He was the teacher in this century who really revitalized Zazen as the fundamental expression

[23:31]

of Dogen Senji's way, and went all over Japan. He was called Homeless Kodo because he never had his own temple. He went all over Japan leading sesshins for monks and laymen alike, or lay people alike, men and women, which was unheard of in Japan. And kindled the joy of Zazen in many, many people, including many people who have come here to teach us. He was a great influence on Kobunshino Roshi, whom some of you have met, who teaches in this country. He was the teacher of my teacher, Joshin-san, as I mentioned, who was another of those people who was just completely threw herself into practice,

[24:35]

into the practice of sewing Buddha's robe, and whose total enthusiasm for sewing Buddha's robe was so infectious for me. Who really was kind of... The only way I passed sewing class in high school was to refinish the sewing machines because my sewing teacher sort of let me know that it was a waste of her time to try to teach me to sew. And I always thought it was such a kind of a marvelous karmic irony that after 50 years of avoiding any kind of work that could be identified as women's work, and studying manual training in math and physics in high school,

[25:38]

and chemistry in college, and on and on, I ended up being sort of identified as a sewing teacher. And it was out of my intense feminism that all this happened because these women teachers came from Japan. And I wanted to hang... I got all excited about women teachers, and I wanted to hang out with them, but they came from a traditional culture where women did traditional women's stuff, and they were sewing teachers. And so I became a sewing teacher. I've always thought that was kind of a neat little twist of fate, or karma. But Gyoshin-san's enthusiasm was so infectious, I just wanted to hang out with her. She just took so much joy in life, and so much joy in sewing Buddha's robe,

[26:43]

and so much joy in everything she did, including drinking beer, I might say. And toward the end of her life, and I've mentioned this before, but there are new people here, and it's one of the big influences in my life, so I should mention it. Toward the end of her life, she had had a heart attack, and she had had a stroke, and had some paralysis in her right hand, and she had cataracts. So she could no longer do what she loved to do. And she wrote me on Taiji Monastery where she practiced, had moved from Kyoto out to the mountains, and they had built a new monastery, and they built her a little house of her own. And she was so happy, she'd never had her own house. She went to study in a nunnery when she was a teenager, when she was an orphan,

[27:43]

and then she left to go study with Sawaki Kotoroshi. And she'd never had her own house, and they built her a little house. I went to see it in 1991 when I went to Japan, 92. It was a little house, a tiny little house, but it was her house. And she was so happy, and she sent me pictures of it, and she says, the monks have built me my own house, and they take very good care of me, and I live a life now of gratitude and gassho. And I was so impressed that here she was, not really able to take care of herself, no longer able to sow what she loved to do, losing her eyesight, partly paralyzed, and saying with the same enthusiasm she always had, I live a life now of gratitude and gassho. And I was moved very deeply to really practice with all my heart

[28:50]

when I got that letter, because I thought, how can that be? How can someone at this stage of her life say I live a life of gratitude and gassho when she's losing her faculties and has to be cared for? And I think it's because she always practiced with such total devotion to practice, total devotion to sewing Buddha's robe, to practicing zazen, to being tenzo at on taiji. She used to describe to me what it was like to be tenzo at on taiji. She was only about four foot ten, and she never spoke English, never spoke Japanese.

[29:53]

This all happened through kind of waving her arms in sign language. And so I'm cooking in these big pots, and the smoke is going up my nose, and my eyes are watering, and I'm putting wood on the fire. She's describing what it's like in this old monastery with a wood stove in the kitchen, cooking for everyone by herself for seshin at on taiji. And when she was sewing at Tassahara, she was so determined that all the robes get done, she would sew late into the night, and we had only kerosene lamps, and these were black robes, so Lu was really worried about her eyes. You know, it's just a kerosene lamp. So he took a cashew can and cut it open to get the shiny metal and used it for a reflector,

[30:55]

so that he put three kerosene lamps and this reflector to make a little more light for her because she was sewing so late at night. And I kept saying to her, but Shoshin-san, please go to bed, please take care. Why are you staying up so late to sew? And she went to the suitcase where we kept the sewing things, and she took out some unfinished rakusus left from previous sewing classes. And again, speaking only Japanese, no English, she said, I'm sure she said, That's why, and that's why, and that's why. That's bad, that's bad, that's bad. There should never be an unfinished Buddha's robe. And so I must stay up late at night and finish them because they must be finished before I have to go back to Japan. And because I loved her so much, because I was really worried about her, I said, I will finish them.

[31:56]

I will see that they're finished. Please go to bed. I promise I will see that they're finished. And then she really started to teach me how to sew. She had me sit there and sew like a Shoshin. All of the pieces that she used to do, the bits that were too much trouble to teach somebody else how to do each one, she had me do corners of okases. These corners, they're a little bit complicated, how to get it all folded in there without it being lumpy. And she had me do them all day long. One corner after the other. But she couldn't tell me how because we didn't speak the same language. So she would put the needle in. She'd say, there, look. And I would look. And then she'd take it out and say, you do it. So then I would put it in. She'd say, no, no, no. This way, there, look. And we'd do that all day long. Until finally I learned how to do the corners. She showed me each thing she had to teach me how to do,

[33:00]

and then she went back to Japan. And there were 11 people sewing cases. There are four corners on each case. There are four corners on each baguette. There are 88 corners. And when we finally had the ceremony, I sent her a telegram saying, Shukke Tokudo completed today. And I sent her a telegram. And then I sent her a photograph. That we actually had completed all these cases. So that is how she somehow conned me into being a sewing teacher. And I have to say, it's the great joy of my life. I love it. I still can't sew, but I love it.

[34:01]

And I love it because I'm kind of with her every time I do it. Joshin-san is there in the room with me every time I do it. So please, enjoy your life. Do something that you can do with your whole heart. This is the mind of complete faith. Beings are numberless.

[34:41]

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