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. Can you hear me? Yes? Okay, good. Oh, wow. This is amazing to look around the room and see everyone's face and to see us all in the same room. face to face.

[01:00]

Before I begin, there's some people I'd like to thank. I'd like to start with my Dharma sister, Nancy Petran. Thank you for this invitation. And this beautiful quince branch. such an honor to take this seat and be here and to prepare a talk. I also want to thank my two teachers, Ed Sadezan and Linda Ruth Cutts, who have nourished me, guided me, supported me for many years, and there's just no way I'd be here tonight without their

[02:01]

tremendous guidance and company. I want to thank the Eno, Brian Clark. He's taken such good care of me these last few days, and it's been such a pleasure and a wonderful way to enter the Buddha Hall. I want to thank you for that. And I also want to thank Heather LaRusso for bringing all those online folks into the room. Welcome to you. I'm so glad you're here. And I hope you'll be able to see and hear me in the same way that the people in the room are. So thank you, Heather. Of course, there's many more people to thank and to acknowledge. I could just spend the whole night doing that, but I don't know that it would be inspiring to you.

[03:05]

And I guess that's, you know, what I'm trying to do tonight. I hope my words will inspire or at the very least, perhaps make you curious. I want to start with a poem by Naomi Shiabnai. I think one of the things that we practice and do here is listen. And listening tonight, I'm listening to you, and you're listening to me. And here's what she says about that sensibility. The poem is called, You Have to Be Careful. You have to be careful telling things. Some ears are tunnels. Your words will go in and get lost in the dark. Some ears are flat pans like the miners used looking for gold.

[04:11]

What you say will be washed out with the stones. You look a long time till you find the right ears. Till then there are birds and lamps to be spoken to. A patient cloth. rubbing shine in circles and the slow, gradually growing possibility that when you find such ears, they already know. Tonight, I want to speak about correspondence. I want to discuss and read some letters to you. and talk about how correspondence resonates in our practice, how we converse, and why it's important. What is the meaning of correspondence, and how does it occur in our studies?

[05:15]

Often during the week, I reside with a wonderful group of centering beings in the library. The books and I have correspondence, Whenever we're together down there, we have a kind of conversation. I didn't really introduce myself. Should I do that now? Well, why not? So if you haven't, my name is Marsha Lieberman, and I'm sorry to drop it in at this point, but that's okay. And I'm currently the... reference librarian here at San Francisco Zen Center. I have practiced here for a long time, since 1989, and I've had the good fortune to live at all three centers. I think that should do. Friendship is usually initiated as a face-to-face relationship.

[06:27]

but it's often sustained through writing. Tonight, please keep these key qualities of what a correspondence is in your mind as I speak. What makes something a correspondence? It usually goes to a selected recipient. It allows a pause in the exchange. It's a slower process. It puts down ideas into words. It gives a choice to read and reread. It makes an opportunity to reply or not, but a reply is usually expected. It develops a relationship, and it creates together, but not together. In speaking about correspondence, there's two arenas I'd like to cover.

[07:32]

One is a famous phrase we have, butso yo butso, face to face. And the other is the actual acknowledgement of letter writing as it exists in the liturgy that we read, the things we chant, and the things we study. Relationship Conversing is so important. This phrase, butsu yo butsu, is a profound base of our practice. We see it everywhere. It's from the Lotus Sutra, and basically is only a Buddha together with a Buddha. So it emphasizes the importance of relations. Relation is just another form of cause and effect. What is the intention? I only understand what you understand.

[08:37]

You understand only what I understand. There are many definitions and many translations of this famous phrase. Here's just a couple of them for you to ponder. Each one of them has a key word. It's just a little bit different, kind of like Philip Glass's music. Just a slight shift. So, see what you hear. Gene Reeves translated this phrase as, only among Buddhas can the true character of all things be fathomed. Only a Buddha, together with a Buddha, can fathom the ultimate reality of all things. Risho Kosakai. Burton Watson, the true aspect of all phenomenon can only be understood and shared between Buddhas.

[09:40]

And Suraganari Kubo and Akira Yuyama said, no one but the Buddhas can completely know the real aspects of all dharmas. And lastly, Leon Urwitz. Only a Buddha and a Buddha can exhaust the reality of all things. I've saved the best for last, Suzuki Roshi. What did he say about Butsu-yobutsu? These are his comments he made in July of 1970. There are four characters... But this, if you explain it, is very difficult to explain. Only Buddha and Yoibutsu. Only Buddha. Yoibutsu means with Buddha. Only Buddha and with Buddha.

[10:41]

It means that you are Buddha and I am Buddha. When you are Buddha, you know I am not Buddha. You are Buddha. When I am Buddha, you are not Buddha. So, each of us are Buddha. So, you can say, you and me are Buddha, and sometimes you can say, I am only Buddha. So, he says, yobutsu, yobutsu. This is his technical term. Only Buddha you know. I am only Buddha is not perfect. Sometime when I am Buddha, you are not Buddha, but we are two of us Buddha. And he laughed. Do you understand? To have vivid and refreshed way of expression of our true way. So disciple cannot be disciple's way, cannot be exactly like teacher's way, but there must be some similarity.

[11:52]

But even though they are similar, actually, what they will do is quite different. Teacher and disciples usually speak, you know, same language. I don't mean Japanese or American. English language, you know, language by language. I mean, yo. This kind of language. No. This kind of language, you know. We should be able to understand with each other in that way. So much said there. I think that Suzuki Roshi is emphasizing sharing but not being the same. He speaks to the separateness in the same way that there are two letters in a correspondence. but the content of the letters is shared.

[12:54]

Finding common language. Another way that we correspond is koan study. How so? So koans basically are an exchange between a student and a teacher, face to face, and then there's a commentary. And I see the commentary as a way in which to look in on this conversation and to comment on it and to consider what's being said. Perhaps some of you have written commentaries. I encourage you to do that. It's a wonderful way to practice and to take a deep look at an exchange. Again, that correspondence... is between two people and the process is slowed down. The commentary allows you, a third person, to participate.

[13:57]

I'd like to then speak about letter writing, something that's very dear to my heart. Letter writing is a sample and a style of correspondence. Letter writing is historically used to teach in Buddhist practice. Reading today part of our studies, we read letters that are embedded in the things that we chant. How is this different from an essay or a sutra? I think a letter is more intimate. It also speaks to the relationship. You can watch it. You can see how it grows. You can see how the relationship changes in letter writing. Looking in on two persons learning from each other, you see acts of expression.

[15:04]

They're also acts of connection, depending on whom you're writing to and who you're receiving letters from. family members, peers, friends. As well, a letter can be a form of text. Reading in the literature, there's quite a survival of letter writing in the books downstairs in the library. This tells me, and it's noted, that letter writing was very important historically, that letters circulated, they were read, and they were shared. And it was also, in particular, a form that was not exclusive. In other words, you didn't need to read or write well to write a letter and send it. In fact, I see it as an extended social interaction beyond face-to-face meetings.

[16:08]

During the pandemic, I was isolated, and I decided that as part of my practice, every week I would write a letter. So each month I would make a list of four people, and during the month, each week, I would write a letter to one of those people. And I did that for, I guess, two years. I just stopped. It was a way to connect. It was a way to express myself. It was, at that time, one of the few ways, actually, to connect with someone. And I so enjoyed that practice. I feel like I learned a lot putting my words on the page. Growing up, I wrote to my parents quite a bit. In fact, I was looking at some letters this last week that my father saved. Turns out he saved... all my letters, from the time I was a child, from the time I went to college, from the time I was a young mother, and then from the time I was a middle-aged woman.

[17:24]

In fact, often, my parents both worked. I would write a letter to them and leave it on the table when they came home. I don't know why I did this, but I did. And then, most recently, I started writing letters at a cafe. Heather's smiling because she knows about this. So I set up a table at a cafe that's in my neighborhood. And I put up my typewriter. And on the table is stationery, envelopes, and stamps. And the invitation is to sit down and dictate a letter to me. And then I pass the letter to them and they can mail it. I've been doing this now for a while, and I'm so moved by the letters that people want to write. It's extraordinary to listen to their thoughts and their ideas, and even to see who they've decided to write a letter to.

[18:29]

You might say, well, it's not very private. But my experience of it is that I don't remember what they say. It goes right on the page. and then it's gone. Working in the library has also allowed me to read a lot more of the letters in our liturgy. We have some amazing volunteers in the library. They come each week, or they live in the building, and they come down to the library, and they help keep it open. They make it a place that each of you can go to. When was the last time you received a letter? How did it feel to open it? Did you read it more than once? When was the last time you wrote a letter?

[19:39]

What inspired you? What got in the way? How is letter writing or correspondence a part of your practice? Just like Sozan said last week, I think it's part of giving, receiving, and gift. So I brought some letters. Letters that I've gathered that are part of our practice that I'd like to read to you. Well, and I'm going to start with a biggie, Dogen. The Genjo Cohen was a letter. It was written to a student in 1233 to Koshujo. What we read is a revised version from 1252. So it doesn't really sound like a letter now, but just think of what it might feel like to receive a letter and have this be the opening remark.

[20:56]

Dear Nancy, When all dharmas are Buddha Dharma, there are delusion, realization, practice, birth and death, Buddhas and sentient beings. Dear David, when the myriad dharmas are without a self, there is no delusion, no realization, no Buddha, no sentient being, no birth and death. Quite a correspondence. As well, I brought a letter that he wrote to Rushing, Master Rushing. Just about the time when he was ready to give up his pilgrimage and head back for Japan, Dogen met Master Rushing, and he was immediately taken by his teaching, and he wrote him a letter, and here's what he said.

[21:56]

I have set my heart on enlightenment, and since my youth, I have sought the way from various teachers in my country and came to know something of the basis of cause and effect. I still didn't know the ultimate goal of Buddhism and lingered in the externals of names and forms. Later, I entered the room of Zen Master Isai and first heard the way of Rinzai Zen. Now I have come to China with Master Myozen and have gotten the opportunity to join your congregation. This is the luck of a past blessing. Now... I pray that in your great compassion, you will allow a foreigner, an insignificant man from a distant place, to freely come to your room and ask about the teaching without the question of time and manner. So please be merciful and kind and permit me this.

[23:00]

And Ru Jing responded in correspondence, Dogen, come anytime, day or night, to do face-to-face interviews. Some of you may know Nan Obutsu. She was a contemporary of Dogen, and she lived, obviously, in the 13th century in Japan. She wrote in Kana script, which was historically considered a woman's hand. It was a kind of script that was written by ladies of the court. And very, quite often, we come across this kind of writing. It's actually a genre of women's writing in medieval Japan. And it's linked to ideals of self-reflection.

[24:03]

confession, and lyricism, and especially everyday life. It's a beautiful, beautiful source for learning about practice and everyday life at that time. Her work is so well noted and her calligraphy is so beautiful, it's part of the Metropolitan Museum's collection in New York. She was a scholar. She was a commentator and a debater. She was known for her expertise on the tale of Genji. In medieval Japan, women were considered to be passive readers as opposed to writing commentary. But she broke that ritual. I think it's important to read her record, as it's one of the few that exist that allows a female gaze to resonate with our practice. Here's a short letter that she wrote to her daughter advising her.

[25:08]

This particular letter is used in Japan as guidance for women who are seeking careers. She said, If despite your perseverance, things do not proceed as you had hoped, one does not live forever in this world. So distance yourself from this cycle of birth and death. and follow the way of the bodhisattvas. Without regret, calm your heart, change your appearance, which meant take tonsure, and enter the true path. A couple more examples. One is Hakuen. Hakuen was a mid-Tokugawa priest and writer and was the person that revived Rinzai Zen.

[26:14]

He had a very strict koan study, and he had a great concern for the general public. He often advised people by his letters. In fact, in the library, we have a whole book of his letters. letters. So here's just one of them. He's advising a wealthy young lord of Okeyama Castle. Imagine if you were a lord and you received this advice. When the mind as master is fixed with a certainty, do not even for a moment adopt the heirs of a great ruler, but keep your morning and evening meals simple, wear mostly cotton clothing both summer and winter, and avoid being seen by others. Clean up the garden, change the water in the basin, and with a laughing face, wash the feet of your retainer's horses. And a letter by Suzuki Roshi.

[27:23]

I want to read this letter. We read Suzuki Roshi all the time. We listen to him. But this letter is really intimate. And even though it's just a simple letter, I think that we can get a sense, another view, another sense of who Suzuki Roshi was. It was written in 1964 in September. That's another great thing about letters. They're all dated. Dear Mr. and Mrs. John Mitchell, whenever I receive your letter, and even when I read it after, I find a great encouragement in it. Now, I decided to visit your home one of these days after the 20th of this month. Please let me know what day is convenient for you and where and how I can meet you. I think I can stay there more than one week. I have no idea of forcing our way to anyone, but I want to be sincere enough to accept people and help people improving for the better.

[28:42]

I am sure we will have an interesting talk between us about the matter we are concerned most. With Gashow, Reverend Sunyu Suzuki. I am always in black robe with Japanese komono. I'd like to include one more person before I move towards closing my talk. And that is a woman that I didn't know much about until a few weeks ago. Her name is Maura Soshan Ohaloran. She was an Irish-American woman who left the States to study in Japan.

[29:44]

She received Dharma transmission within three years. And she's said to be one of the few practitioners that followed a particular method that Dogen followed, which was to sit upright for a thousand days. She wrote to her family prolifically, and fortunately they saved her letters, because six months after she received Dharma transmission, she had an accident and died. I think her writing, and again we have a book of her writing in the library, is such a beautiful example of a sincere and heartfelt correspondence, teaching in just a simple language. Here's an entry that she wrote in June. Tetsugen-san, and that was her friend, made me a chin rest.

[30:47]

The wood smells beautiful. The chin is curved. The board is carved. He inscribed my name and an old Zen exhortation that from ancient times people have done such hard training and attained great enlightenment. It hangs by a royal purple string. You can just imagine it. Holding it in my hands, I feel a sort of reverence for all the hard training that has gone before. However, that didn't do me much good last night. It's hard to sleep on the bloody thing. Thank you. In closing, I want to acknowledge what's going on in the world. I want to include that in this evening talk. Currently, I'm reading a book by Errol Morris.

[31:54]

You may know him as a filmmaker. He directed Fog of War and Thin Blue Line. He's someone who's extremely interested and writes quite a bit about truth and believability. The book that I am reading is just about that. What can you believe? What is true? It's called Believing is Seeing. In this book, he discusses, he takes a whole chapter to discuss a photograph. You may know this photograph. This was the first war photographer. This was the first war photograph that was ever made in 1855. It's called the Valley of the Death.

[32:56]

In this chapter, he talks about Richard Fenton, who took the picture. And this picture was taken during the Crimean War. Fenton, in the midst of this battle, wrote to his wife. And I find his letter very moving in terms of believability and truth and war, what is evil and what is not. It turns out that Fenton made two pictures like this one, and there was a slight difference. There was... Just a second.

[34:07]

Are we back on again? Oh, it sounds different now. Maybe that's because I'm holding it. That's cool. I like that. Sorry. So he made two photographs, and they were slightly different from each other. And there's been a long controversy about which one is true, which one is right. As a photographer, I deal a lot with what is fabricated or what is true. In fact, you could say that my Dogen book, I imagine the garden that he lived in. But actually, I address that garden with real, true blossoms. If I take your portrait, which is what I did a lot when I was a working artist, it was a correspondence. It was a conversation between the two of us.

[35:09]

Sometimes I would even ask people who I didn't have the chance to meet before I photographed them to write me a letter and describe themselves so that if I was walking down the street, I'd be able to know who they were. Another kind of correspondence. So this correspondence that Richard Fenton wrote to his wife, I think, addresses what we're dealing with these days with the war. Again, it was 1855. It was about two months after he made the photograph that I showed you. He's commenting on whether he should have taken the photograph, whether anyone should see it, whether they should see the truth,

[36:12]

Because no one, prior to this photograph, had seen war except those people that were actually there. It's kind of hard to imagine that now, today, with all the media. But in 1855, that's how it was. He wrote in his letter, I am, however, beset by a painful thought. Perhaps I ought not to have said it, and when he says said, I'm assuming he means taken a picture. Perhaps what I have said belongs to the category of those harmful truths each of us carries around in his subconscious. Truths we must not utter aloud, lest they cause active damage. Where in this narration is there any illustration of evil that is to be avoided? Where is there any illustration of good that is to be emulated?

[37:15]

Who is the villain of the piece, and who is its hero? All the characters are equally blameless and equally wicked. No, the hero of my story, whom I love with all my heart and soul, whom I've attempted to portray in all his beauty, and who has always been, is now, and will always be supremely magnificent, is truth. Thank you for listening tonight. Thank you for opening this room up, and for you, coming here online and being with us as well. I'd like to, once more, read the poem that I started with and close in that manner.

[38:22]

You have to be careful. You have to be careful telling things. Some ears are tunnels. Your words will go in and get lost in the dark. Some ears are flat pans like the miners used looking for gold. What you say will be washed out with the stones. You look a long time till you find the right ears. Till then, there are birds and lamps to be spoken to, a patient cloth rubbing shine in circles, and the slow, gradually growing possibility that when you find such years, they already know. Thank you so much. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center.

[39:43]

Our Dharma talks are offered at no cost, and this is made possible by the donations we receive. Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, visit sfcc.org and click Giving. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[40:03]

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