This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at www.sfzc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good evening, everyone. Welcome and thank you for being here this evening. My name is Hakusho Johan Ostland, and I am... the Tanto, head of practice here at Tassahara currently. And I'm wanting to start tonight's talk with some words that our Zen Center president, Linda Gallien, I think more or less ended her talk on a month or so ago because they've been with me. And she was relating the story of a former Zen Center Abbott's Blanche Hartman going to practice at Tassahara for the first time and talking with former Zen Center Abbott, Sojin Mel Weizmann, about Tassahara, and Mel told Blanche that at Tassahara, everybody can see who you are, and you can too, is the line.

[01:22]

So I think the reason why this has stayed with me is that there's something both so intriguing and so frightening about this statement. To get to see who I am does sound intriguing and it does sound a little frightening. And for others to get to see who I am, that sounds terrifying. And I have a pretty well-grounded hunch that throughout the course of my life I have spent massive efforts and energy to try to prevent others from seeing who I am, actually. So why would I want somebody to see who I am? And I don't think I'm alone. And, of course, we would never put this in our promotional material for attracting students to Tassajara Summers to say that, come to Tassajara, where everybody gets to see who you really are. And so will you, too.

[02:26]

However, There is something intriguing about this too, and if I have spent so much energy and time keeping others from seeing who I am, and I'm being told how futile this is at Tassahara, perhaps that energy can be actually freed up and deployed in some other way. What might I choose to direct myself towards instead if I'm not trying to do cover-ups so much? I think perhaps what Mel had in mind was partly the squeeze of life at Tassajara. There's something about living so close to one another as we're doing here. The limits of sleep where the schedule allows and the hot summers and the cold winters quite effectively over time where some of our defenses wish we'd try to keep people from seeing us.

[03:46]

And because we live, work and practice with the same people it's almost impossible cover up all the time, right? It's a little bit like family in this way. And if we're not careful, it can seem a little bit too much like family. We might at times find ourselves seemingly with no control whatsoever over our own behavior, acting in rather immature ways. Or we might see when we do that, it might happen in front of other people. which can be both embarrassing and a little shocking. And we might get to see others, too, acting in less mature ways, and sometimes those who have been here longer than ourselves, and this can be discouraging when this happens. So, is this practice making us regress?

[04:50]

Is that what's going on? I don't think so. But I think it is making us see ourselves and the presence of others will help us or can help us with this. Even if it doesn't seem like it, so much of our lives in this valley are actually closely aligned. We've chosen to dedicate this portion of our lives to living and practicing in this way. We all come looking for some kind of liberation, though the liberation I'm looking for might be quite different than the one that you're looking for. Nevertheless, we're looking for liberation. So the extent to which our lives overlap and intertwine is also the extent to which we get to mirror each other.

[05:55]

both the appealing aspects of ourselves and the less appealing aspects of ourselves. And when we're acting in less than mature ways, what we're seeing is not actually some new behavior. It's rather some old stuff, some ancient twisted karma, which we might have been secretly wishing it was all gone. It hasn't appeared for a while. Yep, there it is, rising to the surface. Brought about by the current and perhaps family-like conditions that we're finding ourselves in. So the good news, it gives the news, it's not news, but I'd like to bring it up. Actually, this surfacing is what allows for transformation to happen. It's necessary. For things to change, they need to be faced.

[06:58]

When I started practicing meditation, I found the metaphor, I came across the metaphor of washing one's clothes by hand, a very helpful one. At Tazahara, there are no laundry machines, so all of us who live here, we wash all our clothes by hand. When you first start doing this, the color of the wash water would be kind of shocking. Like, I had no idea there was so much dirt in these clothes. And the same is true when you start to meditate. And once you sit down and sort of stop, parts of our lives that we've been running from catch up with us, and we get to see them. And again, we can... This can be a little shocking at times, and it's easy to get discouraged even, how much gunk is coming out of our mind, wherever that place is where it's coming from exactly, I don't quite know.

[08:07]

So this is getting to see part of who we really are, and the extent to which we can open up to those. gunkier parts of ourselves is also the extent to which we can open up to the more beautiful parts of ourselves. They come together. So in order for transformation to occur, we first need to get a clear look at what is. And in Buddhism, the whole approach to the spiritual path actually begins with a full acknowledgement of one's own discomfort and disease. This is the first noble truth. If we skip over these aches and pains, we try to skip over the messy and unflattering parts of ourselves, then we also strip the ground of the soil which our practice can grow in.

[09:20]

However, this recognition of what is is not the whole path, it's the beginning of it. It's crucial to not escape what is and to start right here. And if that isn't met with some deep desire for how to live our lives, some intention, some vow, there might not be much impetus for change. And so another significant aspect of our training here, other than getting to see who we are and who others are, is the cultivation of ideals. It might seem well hidden at first because it's so obvious. We chant them all the time. The Buddha's teachings start with the first noble truth, the acknowledgement of pain and distress, and then goes on to include the promise of a way out of these painful places, and it's somewhat of a sketch of a map for how to get there, how to move in that direction.

[10:39]

If we want to find a way out of our own petty behaviors, it's really helpful for us to see them, have them mirrored to us, and If we really want to grow up, it's helpful to meet these behaviors with some vow and intention and aspiration. It's a little bit like if we're traveling. It's really good to see where we are and the direction that we're heading in. But mostly if we're wanting to go to some place in particular, if we want to travel in a particular direction, that observation is helpful and our practice is kind of the same. Can we see where we are? And can we see where we want to go? And can we actually hold the dissonance of these two, both the actual and the ideal?

[11:49]

to bear with that tension that's there? Can we try to meet our failures to live by our ideals in a way that honors these ideals? And can we meet our own immaturities and those of others in a mature and grown-up way? Today, it's 50 years ago since the moon landing, July 20th, 1969. And so our founder, Suzuki Roshi, was apparently not so impressed by this. He gave a talk on the same day of the landing, and he seemed to question whether outer space was really the best direction for humanity to be traveling in.

[13:00]

moving towards. So in his talk 50 years ago today, he said, to arrive at the moon may be great, a great historical event, but if we don't change our understanding of life, it won't have much meaning or make much sense. Went on to speak about the findings of the trip before we really knew or anyone knew, but he said, I don't think there's a great difference between the rocks we have on the earth and those on the moon. Even if you go to Mars, I think you will find the same rocks. I'm quite sure about it. But if you want to find something interesting, instead of hopping around the universe like this, enjoy your life in every moment. Observe what you have now and truly live in your surroundings. And I think he was correct. I don't think those rocks were that... interesting.

[14:04]

I don't know. I haven't heard. It didn't change so much. So Tassajara and San Francisco Zen Center is a Zodo Zen Buddhist center. We have a Japanese founder and we trace our lineage to Japan. And as a center for Buddhist training, we are trying to cultivate both the capacity to see who we are and the aspiration to live for something larger than the satisfaction of our own individual desires. To open up to the suffering of others as our own suffering, to how what happens to us happens to all of us. And we have a long way to go. We have some impossible vows to fulfill. And yet, that's the direction we're traveling in.

[15:06]

We're trying to, like, orienting towards the North Star. You're not going to get there. And yet, it can set one on the course. Just because our vows are impossible doesn't mean we shouldn't strive towards them. And remembering to keep our feet firmly on the ground where we are at the same time. So just a few hours ago, we held a memorial ceremony in this room in sympathy with the larger ceremony taking place outside of the Fort Hill Detention Center in Lawton, Oklahoma. And our memorial, like the one in Oklahoma, was held to commemorate in particular the three men who died at Fort Sill while incarcerated during the Second World War. And the children have died in detention centers over the last year.

[16:17]

And all those who've suffered in such camps, including the Apache tribe, members of the Apache tribe in the late 19th and early 20th century. And the memorial ceremony at Fort Sill was organized by Tsuru for solidarity. which is a solidarity group of Japanese Americans protesting the conditions of detention facilities, which are currently holding asylum seekers and migrants, and also protesting the underlying xenophobia. Several of the organizers were themselves incarcerated as children during the Second World War, where their parents were for no other reason than their Japanese heritage. And they're now organizing under the slogan, Never Again is Now, holding the ceremony and similar ones as well.

[17:23]

They're eventually heading to Washington, D.C., I think, both as a protest and also as a prayer for history to not be repeating itself. and with them they brought paper cranes, tsuru in Japanese, tens of thousands of them, and I think we made 226, is that the number, at Tassahara, and some at City Center and Green Gulch too, I think, and many centers they're making these. So the ceremony, Fort Sill, outside of the detention center, was officiated by Duncan Ryokin Williams. And he published earlier this year the book American Sutra, in which he describes the mass incarceration of Japanese Americans during the Second World War.

[18:25]

Following Pearl Harbor, all the... people of Japanese descent living on the west coast of the United States were classified as potential threats to national security and most of them incarcerated. The U.S. was also at war, of course, with Germany and with Italy, but Americans of German and Italian heritage were not subject to the mass incarceration that the Japanese Americans were. So the lines as to who was considered a threat were fairly drawn along the lines of race and also along the lines of religion, actually. Japanese American Christians were sometimes successful in proving their loyalty to the U.S. Buddhists and Shintoists.

[19:28]

were all viewed as foreign and thereby potentially dangerous by default. So they were all mass incarcerated. So I'm speaking as somebody who had no idea about this aspect of American history before I heard about these protests. And so I picked up Reverend William's book, hoping it would help to dispel some of my ignorance around this. And it's such a moving book, which is why I brought it with me tonight, talking about the incredible hardships that people went through, the grief and injustices, and also about the incredible acts of faith that people had to actually go through these horrible experiences.

[20:34]

So I don't mean to minimize those hardships at all. We should, again, should not skip over suffering. However, they're perhaps not so different, they're really similar to the ones we can read about today, the situation with migrants today. So I wanted to focus on some of the teaching stories in here, the greatest teaching stories for me, which are those of people meeting these hardships with an unwavering faith and equanimity and with some sense that even though so much has been taken away, there's still possible to live a life of practice and a life of vow. So one of the many priests in detention, Reverend Daisho Tana, one of his journal entries quoted in here.

[21:44]

May 23rd, 1942. Because of our robes, we Buddhist priests are usually isolated from larger society. But being put in a place like this We are just regular human beings who experience suffering just like everyone else. Indeed, without this kind of experience, we priests should not talk to others about the purpose of life. So I'm really humbled by his willingness to even this situation. this opportunity for practice and to be using it to deepen his understanding of the human condition. And I do not have the experience to teach from such a deep place, so I'm wanting to highlight those to do this talk a little bit.

[23:01]

So to quote Zen Buddhist priest Niogen Senzaki on the eve of leaving for his temple in L.A., for a camp, wrote the following poem called Parting. Thus have I heard. The army ordered all Japanese faces to be evacuated from the city of Los Angeles. This homeless monk has nothing but a Japanese face. He stayed here 13 springs, meditating with all faces from all parts of the world, and studied the teaching of Buddha with them. Wherever he goes, he may form other groups, inviting friends of all faces, beckoning them with the empty hands of Zen. So even though his freedom was taken away from him and he could no longer serve the congregation that he'd worked hard to build up, his mind remained open to how can I as a priest be of service going into this change, into captivity.

[24:36]

And so nobody could actually take being a priest away from him. Of the 700 detainees at Fort Sill during World War II, 90 of them were Buddhist priests, actually, which I'm thinking is a pretty high percentage. It's a higher percentage than we have in this valley right now, I think. We think of ourselves as a Zen monastery. Last bit of the book that I wanted to share is from Reverend Williams' own writing. And he's addressing the temptations for Buddhists to convert to Christianity or to sort of hide, not display their faith in order to hopefully escape or minimize prosecution. So he writes, some Buddhists did convert to Christianity, or at least downplay public displays of their faith.

[25:49]

Yet, after several months between barbed wire at the assembly centers, and certainly by the fall when they had been transferred to the war relocation camps, many Buddhists had pushed back. They argued that their religion was not only compatible with life in America, but that the religious freedom enshrined in the Constitution would be undermined if they succumbed to pressures to become Christian. So, again, I'm humbled by this willingness to suffer or to not escape suffering out of a thoroughly rooted and deeply tested faith that the ideals of Both of Buddhism and of the U.S. Constitution are perfectly good and should not be abandoned.

[26:51]

How beautiful. And these priests and lay people sticking to their faith in the midst of such oppression, their efforts actually, they really did matter. helped shape the Buddhism of today in America. Even before the mass incarceration, Yogan Senzaki and other Buddhist teachers were already inviting friends of all faces to come and sit with them. And they continued during the war, and they continued after the war ended, and they were released. And as Reverend Williams points out in his book, it's because of their persistence that be practicing Buddha is no longer un-American in this country, or anti-American as it was at that time. So I've been reflecting.

[27:59]

We chant for our ancestors each morning in here every day, for our male ancestors, and every day for our female ancestors. And it's a little bit unfortunate, particularly the list of male answers. It's a lineage, so it all goes teacher to student, which makes it kind of appear like there wasn't anything before Suzuki Roshi came, before our founder came. It goes from Japan to America there. So we miss these efforts and this suffering and this carrying on of the faith and the practice that was going on before Suzuki Roshi ever put his feet. in this country ever landed. So I am intent on practicing with a larger view and vision of who my ancestors are in this practice.

[29:03]

I invite you, those who live here, to do the same. Last thing I wanted to try to address, because this two Paper Cranes for Solidarity, which we're engaged with here, and Argelia has been leading our efforts, and sent them down with Greg Fane, who's in Oklahoma as well, together with former abbess, Agent Linda Cutts, and Tova Green as well. Zen Center resident priests who went to Oklahoma for this memorial. So why the folding of paper cranes? These tens of thousands of them at the memorial. Well, I think birds are not bound by borders.

[30:10]

In fact, many of them are migratory. One reason. And in Buddhism, they're a symbol for liberation. And you need the two wings of the bird. The bird needs the two wings to fly. And one is the wing of wisdom. And the other is the wing of compassion. So it's the wing of direct insight or clear seeing to what is. And the wing of warm care. Things matter. how does the folding of paper cranes actually relieve the suffering of those detained in the past and those detained right now? Well, I don't know. What else can we do from here? At least, I think in Buddhism it's crucial to do something and even a small act, the smallest act, if it's

[31:18]

directed in the right direction and with the right intention, it has a positive outcome both in the world and for ourselves in our own cultivation. So it's always infinitely better to do something small than to do nothing at all. So even, you know, every... well-intentioned action with a well-intentioned heart does have a reaction inside and outside, even if it's hard to see. Thank you very much. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center. Our Dharma talks are offered free of charge, 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.

[32:25]

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