This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good evening. That's the sound for everyone. The theme for tonight's talk is Suzuki Roshi's teaching on Enmost Request. So I appreciate being here on a Wednesday night. It's lovely. It has sort of a family feeling in the Buddha Hall on a Wednesday night. And I can sense in myself the family feeling sort of... radiating out from the buddha hall straight into the camera i see someone on a zoom screen all of us included as is customary i'd like to begin by thanking my teachers shinshi linda galleon kojin gil fransdahl thanks to abbot david and thank you to the tonto for the invitation

[01:22]

So to enter into this topic, I'd like to note that this next year is one of transition for us as a sangha. And what I mean by that is we're expecting that a number of our teachers are going to retire. A number of the teachers, several of them have been fostering this community. with great care for a number of years. And so we keep hearing this phrase, generational shift. Generational shift. And so this question keeps coming up for me. In light of that, how do we clarify and stay close to what's most important? Not far from there, Suzuki Roshi's inmost request.

[02:31]

It's like, what is the inmost request of our own practice? What's the inmost request of the Sangha? So in this month, July, 57 years ago, 1965, this now pretty well-known teaching by Suzuki Roshi was given language, at least insofar as it's recorded for the first time, in most requests. It first shows up in some of his comments on the Blue Cliff Record and then the Heart Sutra. And then Suzuki Roshi made use of this phrase pretty often for the rest of the year. And then interesting, it almost drops off when 1966-67 roll around. But during 1965, he uses this phrase and unrolls at least a few different teachings. So the first one, it's a teaching we hear probably the most often.

[03:33]

And it actually turns out it's in the middle of a seshin that this happens. They have a Q&A in the afternoon during the seshin. Sounds lovely. July 27th, 1965 at Sokoji. Just down the street. Actually wasn't here. And this teaching that many of us may know... Simply put, Suzuki Roshi said, what is your inmost request? What will appease your suffering? What will appease your suffering? And I think to get into that experience, to get under the words and really sense what that was like, you could imagine yourself sitting across from a wise, kind friend with those kind of eyes that can actually see you. all the different parts of you and look right in to the depths and somehow in the silence communicate a safety and a trust and a sort of confidence in you and your practice and then that question coming out from that place what is your inmost request what will appease your suffering

[04:49]

Could you say? Do you think you could say? I think a lot of us could probably say. But it may not be true that we could always. I certainly remember times in my own practice when I couldn't answer that question. Too much confusion. So to give a glimpse of that, I wanted to tell you a story. I have this memory. I'm looking down at a red tile floor, this dark gray grout that's almost as black as the line on the tatami here. And above me is one of those fluorescent lights, the searing type. And on my left, there's this bank of large burners. And on my right is the door to a walk-in freezer. I'm in the back kitchen, a commercial kitchen in a big restaurant, and I'm wearing a suit and a tie. And I'm looking into the eyes of this wise, kind friend who's maybe 30 years my senior.

[06:06]

And he's holding space for me in this commercial kitchen. As I have a marriage falling apart. And I have this big upwelling of emotion. And I can feel that something is about to emerge from me. And I don't know what that's going to be. And I feel it come up, and I hear it come out of my mouth. I say to my friend, I don't know what I want. I don't know what I want, but I know it's not this. I couldn't say. I didn't know what my inmost request was. And some couple of weeks later, that shifted. I was sitting on the edge of a fireplace. one that my Labrador had very kindly chewed the corner of. I'm sitting on the corner there, and what had been my home, my house, is gradually emptying of the things.

[07:16]

The things are going, and along with the things, all of my plants and the desires, they're just falling away like so many autumn leaves. And right in the midst of that, right in the midst of that, the sort of like swirl of confusion, after having settled in it for such a long time, there arose, right in the midst, this, this will be the center of my life. There was an intention that came forward. And it was, sitting practice is going to be the center of my life. It presented itself as the inmost request. see i had had a taste of a little bit of how uh zazen had benefited me in the sense that on the days that i sat i was so much more kind and patient and it put me in touch with something deeper in my being and then on those days that i didn't i was kind of just i was a swirl but this basic intention had emerged

[08:28]

And it was just with that intention that a new life started to take shape, started to crystallize. And Suzuki Roshi's teaching, in most requests, I think the first layer is it points to this emerging of a basic intention, something that's deeper than our everyday cravings and aversions or pleasures and pains, our everyday desires. even at the time, even deeper than the joy and the grief arising right there. So that sense of the inmost request of this basic intention came up in Suzuki Roshi's teaching and that phrase and that session Q&A and said, what is the pure most concerning point? What is your inmost request? What will appease your suffering? Or, you know, your agitation.

[09:31]

And then he laughs. Or your irritation. What will appease your agitation or irritation? And how can you appease it? So I take this question to be a fruitful one right now. important to reflect on. What are we becoming? What do we want to be at the center of our being as we're making this transition? What's the most important thing? And what is the utmost request? And my hope is that as we let go into a period of transition with our faith, that this will reveal a basic intention that can crystallize in our new community.

[10:37]

And I hope we keep asking it. I hope we keep asking the question because there's something how a repeated question sort of like gets beyond the well-rehearsed. We could ask it a couple times and get the usual answers and then ask it again and get a little bit deeper, ask it again, get a little deeper, and maybe surprise ourselves as we discover. I think is a little encouragement in this period, in this time, this process. There's a quote attributed to Gustav Mahler, who's a 19th century composer who was really known for breaking the mold. And he's meant to have said, tradition is tending the fire, it's not worshiping the ashes. Tradition is tending the fire, it's not worshiping the ashes. And to me, this distills to how do we move into aliveness? How do we move into what's alive? Of course, we're not the first Buddhist community to undergo a generational shift, generational change.

[11:43]

I keep thinking of the venerable Ananda at the time of the Buddha's death is approaching. And I have to think like this... This kind-hearted, loyal monk, he attended for 20 years and his teacher he knows in the next year is about to pass away. And what would the implications for the Sangha, for the community be? The Buddha of this time says, I'm currently 80 years old. And just as an old cart keeps going by relying on being strapped together. In the same way, my body keeps going by relying on straps, or so it would seem. You've lived a hard life. And then he offers Ananda this encouraging response for this transition that's about to happen. And he says, the teaching we know well. Ananda, be your own refuge.

[12:46]

Be your own island. Let the teaching be your island and your refuge. With no other refuge. And then he says, how do we do that? We practice mindfulness. He actually goes on to talk about the four foundations of mindfulness. I think in our language we can say, Ananda, Satsasa. In easy times and in the difficult ones, I think in the times of stability, in the times of transition, Suzuki Roshi certainly made much of zazen as our fundamental concern. And I think for good reason, as it can provide this access to depth or a ballast or a nourishment and clear sight as we make our way through change. It's zazen as this ground practice.

[13:49]

that connects us again and again with our inmost request. And in this series of inmost request teachings, Suzuki Roshi puts it this way, why we sit is because there is no other way to appease your innate nature. He uses innate nature and inmost request interchangeably for a lot of these teachings. No other way to appease your inmost request. Perhaps you think it may be better to take some medicine rather than to sit. But even though you take medicine, even though you obtain calmness of mind, you will not be satisfied with it. The only way, he says, he's saying this in the midst of seshin, of course, too. So you've got to imagine the support of the whole seshin container and community and the momentum of practice. And he's saying the only way is to give up all of the appeasement.

[14:53]

Give up all of the appeasement, all the medicine, all the way that is supposed to be effective. Give up even our desires. And when we give up... What do you advise? Oh, there we go. Thank you very much. Time for a water break. When we give up everything, we'll have direct insight of the hunger, he says. Direct insight of our instinct. And when we know what is our inmost request and all the things you do will serve as an appeasement.

[16:03]

Like there's something fundamental, the fundamental shift here. It's like, in that time of grief, I could be in a world and like reaching out for appeasement here and there. And it's just like, nothing is working, but there's something about knowing and seeing your inmost request and being intimate with it. But whatever the activity is, nourishes us. Suzuki Roshi says, that's why we sit. And as we practiced, many of us this Saturday, in the one day sitting, sitting with our body and our breathing, amidst all of the coming and going, amidst all of the pleasure and the pain, all of those fabrications of yourself and other me myself and mine and that person over there sitting with all the stresses and sitting with all of the joy the faith the settledness the pleasures of a collected mind happiness

[17:21]

sitting with just awareness in its pristine simplicity. Just awareness. It's like sitting from the leaves to the limbs to the trunk to the heartwood to the taproot right to the center. reveals something of an aspect of our inmost request. It's deeper even than desire, deeper even than that basic intention, deeper even than your thoughts, deeper than feeling. something that's more basic to our process of being, or more fundamental to our awareness of experience.

[18:33]

As Suzuki Roshi puts it in these teachings, he says, this realization is not some experience by thinking, by feeling, or by the five or six senses. a direct experience will know what it is. A direct, genuine experience is the experience before any thinking activity or feeling activity arises. In other words, he says, when you just sit, you have this feeling. There's a crucial turn here that he then makes. He talks about this Whatever this is, whatever this is in the depth of our being, he says in negative language of absence, we can call up calmness of mind. In the positive language, we can call it the origin of all of our activities.

[19:44]

It sort of fills me with wonder, right? Like, what is it? What is it that's before thinking? What's before feeling? And I think we can catch glimpses of this every day. You know, it might sound some way, but we can get glimpses of it in the everyday. Like when you hear the first couple notes of a song, but you can't quite identify it yet. Having some sense experience, but concept hasn't put its name on it yet. Or when you see a person walking down Page Street, but you can't quite recognize, they get closer, closer. Oh, ah, it's Michael. Hi, Michael. But there was that period of sense experience. Something direct was happening. An idea wasn't interfering. Same thing in the kitchen. Catch an aroma of an herb. What is that?

[20:50]

Before recognition. Sense contact before concept. Sense contact before concept. And I think that gives us something of the trajectory that Suzuki Roshi is talking about here. And I think one of the basic reasons we try to stay so close to just basic direct experience, coming into contact in most requests, And then the turn here, it's like something about intimacy here that fills us with aliveness, fills us with vitality, like energy, life. I don't know how many of you have stepped out a door after maybe a morning of meditation, and aren't the leaves sparkling just a little bit more? Isn't everything just a little bit more pristine? It's like somehow the system is reoriented.

[21:54]

some hunch that this was part of what was so powerful about Suzuki Roshi's friendship. You hear people like Abbot Ed talk about how just knowing Suzuki Roshi changed him. I have to wonder if this was the undercurrent that was there. I thought Ryushin, if I may, characterized this really beautifully at the end of the one-day sitting. this whole park, and I'll paraphrase, said something like, I hope that in the process of sitting upright, discovered something about a connection with the depth of your being. And then that we bring the merit and the fruits of that out into the world. And the vehicle for that, I'm remembering correctly, he said is a simple one, it's kindness.

[23:08]

More or less, thank you. Yeah. So I think that as we tread into this time of transition as a community, my hope is that we'll continue to ask the question. sort of align with this wisdom and compassion that comes from being in deep contact with the depths of our being i believe it's very close to the best that we have to offer to ourselves and as a community i often think of this phrase from the ordination uh ordination ceremonies realization beyond the realm of karma is the offering of true compassion It's meant different things to me over the years, but it keeps coming back. So maybe this is a simple idea, but I find it inspiring. You know, I'm inspired by our continued community practice together in inquiry.

[24:17]

And I'm inspired by how it animates us. Just this full of vitality. And how does that happen? How does that happen? I think that Zazen is full of questions we can't answer. And yet, it just bursts forth as vitality. I wonder how many poems have been written involuntarily by the mind of Zazen. How many images that have become art? Or how many interpersonal problems had a solution arise and crystallize from the mind of Zazen? It's so wonderful. Zazen nurtures a sense of aliveness and of rightness. Such that, as Suzuki Roshi put it, whatever we do, at least for ourselves, isn't an appeasement. It's like it connects us to the heartbeat of the earth.

[25:21]

And I'm inspired by that possibility. So I hope we continue to ask the question. amidst all the transition, stay close to our basic intention, and amidst all the zazen, to realize something of our inmost request, and to turn that over for the benefit of the world, for the benefit of beings. I didn't bring a clock, Brian. How are we doing on time? 8.15. Okay, I'm going to take three minutes to do one more thing. This might break the cadence and the tone just a little bit. We've really been keeping it even. But I want to capture something of the vitality that I'm trying to point to. And so I want to share with you a poem that probably a lot of inspiration and speaks to some of these themes, like connecting with something deep in ourselves and then how that can burst forth.

[26:27]

It's by this poet named Daniel B. Summerhill. He's an assistant professor of poetry and social action and composition studies at CSU Monterey Bay. And he's the inaugural poet laureate for Monterey County 2022-23. And, yeah, he's pretty amazing. Author Jasmine Manns says of him that he keeps asking questions that I can't answer. So I have to return. And this is his poem, and we'll close with this. It's called Ode to Slow Dancing. There are mornings when the clouds seem closer to earth than usual, when Mother Nature is open to interpretation.

[27:30]

Either the sky is falling, or our dreams are within arm's reach. Most days, I like to think that the clouds are just a blanket to keep me warm, a friendly reminder that infinity is glorious when we decide to take a step into it, that life is just a series of slow dances. The more grand the music, the more brilliant we become. Each song a testament to the resilience of our own character, an ode to the fire in our bellies, in the rhythm of our heartbeats, we laugh. In love and learn and labor and live, we stand and strive and stride and spark and step and stop for nothing.

[28:31]

We are Earth's heartbeat. each a unique palpitation, marvelous enigmas. So let's be legendary. Let's dance and mean it, shine like discharged fireflies, run like clouds are at our feet, and smile like we have a thousand grandmother hands at our cheek. Let's find out who we were born to be, on purpose. Because growing pains are tiny revolutions, turning youth into wisdom. Transitions are short and one of the most beautiful periods ever imagined. When the sun sits selfless and allows the moon to bellow in its glory, chin up. Even when they seem darker than usual, pull your galaxies up by the stream,

[29:31]

and realize you are a star. And you shine brightest when everything else around you is without light. So whichever way you interpret the heavens, always remember we are jubilous symphonies composed of life's finest instruments. Let's make gorgeous music. For more information, please visit sfzc.org and click Giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[30:28]

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