Good morning. I want to keep this talk as informal as possible. So I'd like to tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Shuichi Thomas Kurai. You know, the name Kurai, if you know Japanese, You might think it means dark, but it doesn't. So when I introduce myself, especially to Japanese, it's kind of funny to say, kurai desu. That means I'm a dark person, dark in character, you know. So I always say, kurai desu, keredomo, akarui desu. Which means I'm a dark person, but... I am bright and cheerful. But the kanji or Chinese characters to kurai means, kura is warehouse, and i is ido, ido is for ido, which means well.

[01:17]

So warehouse, well. Many of the Japanese surnames derive from the kind of living or the type of place where that person comes from. So every name has a very special meaning. I was born in Nye Prefecture in Japan. And I came to Richmond actually on a big passenger boat. And then we drove down to Los Angeles. where I grew up from age five. The town I was born in is called Katada, and it's on the Shima Peninsula in Miya Prefecture. It's inside of the Ise Shima National Park, which is famous for several things.

[02:21]

The married rocks called Futami Gaura, If you saw the movie Sayonara, that was in the movie. And also the holiest place in Japan, the Shinto shrine called the Ise Jingu, the Ise Grand Shrine. And also, Mikimoto Pearl Island is in the national park where pearl culturing developed. So I was born in a small peninsula, Shima. Peninsula, and the temple belonged to my grandfather. It goes back six generations. And at our local graveyard, my father, part of his remains are buried there, and all of the other generations of priests in one plot.

[03:23]

I don't know if I'll go there. After my father left, my cousin took over the temple and he left and it was taken over by another family. So it no longer belongs to the family, but I still go back for services. I'll tell you a little bit about my parents. My father... Shuyu Hideo Kurai was born in 1916. And he became a high school teacher teaching kokugo or Japanese. And he was inducted into the Imperial Japanese Army and spent some time in Burma and then came back and resumed teaching. And my mother, was actually born just south of here in the San Jose area on a strawberry farm in Cupertino.

[04:28]

So she's a second generation. When she was 12, she was sent to Japan to get an education. And so we call that generation Nisei, second generation, Kibei. Kibei means to return. So she went to Japan. and came back to the United States, returned back to the United States. So she met my father and married into a temple family. And when I became five, we came here, mainly because she wanted to come back to see her family because she had been living in Japan for about 18 years. And so my father got a job as a missionary and was assigned to Zenshuji Soto Mission, which is now the North American headquarters of Soto Zen Buddhism in North America, and it's based in Los Angeles. He was there for about 17 years, and before he left, there was a dedication of a new building at Zen Chujing.

[05:43]

At that time, he was the acting abbot. He decided to... start his own independent Soto Zen temple in 1971. And he was there until he passed away in 1986. He was 69. And at that time, the board members asked me if I could take over. So I've been there since 1971. My mother's family, going back a little bit, Spent the World War II years at Hard Mountain in Wyoming. It was one of the Japanese-American concentration camps. And that was an experience that affected me and my entire family. I'd like to tell you a little bit about...

[06:47]

how I got involved in taiko and a little bit about my practice and how it's different from Zen center practice. So when I was a child, I saw my father play the taiko for the first time during the Obon festival. Obon is a Buddhist observance where we welcome people. our dead ancestors. And we appreciate our past. And we do what we call a obon dance or obon dance, which is a folk dance in a circle. And this is one way that we welcome our ancestors back. And that was my first introduction to this ancient instrument. And when he was playing, I felt my whole heart beating along with the sound of the taiko.

[07:49]

And so before I decided to become a priest, I wanted to be a taiko player. So I've been a priest about 21 years, and I have been playing taiko about 32 years. So in about 1970, I joined a taiko group called King Nara Taiko. King Nara is a Buddhist term meaning celestial musicians. And it was based at a Pure Land Jodo Shinshu temple in the west part of Los Angeles called Senshin Buddhist Temple or Senshin Buddhist Church. And we... performed, but we did that to educate people about Buddhism through the drum.

[08:52]

Many of the pieces we performed were based on Buddhist concepts. For example, samsara and another one called prapancha. And so this was Japanese-American Buddhist taiko drumming. And after two and a half years, I started my own group and started teaching the children and the youth at our temple, Sozenji, in Montebello. The word Sozenji literally means Sotozen Temple. And this word was borrowed from my father's friends temple, a very famous Sotozen temple in Osaka called Sozenji. And so I started teaching our children at the temple.

[09:54]

And after that, I went to Japan and learned Japanese. I studied Japanese at... which is an international Christian university in Tokyo. And then I came back after three years and started taiko again. When I play taiko, I basically lose myself in the sound and also the no sound of taiko. Just like The empty space, which gives shape to objects in paintings, the absence of sound gives shape and fullness to the sound. The obon taiko player, when he's playing with the dancers like my father did years ago, does not play every beat of the rhythm for the dance, but plays to complement and enhance the music and the dance.

[11:11]

The dancers do not hear the sound of the taiko when it is played properly, but they miss it when the taiko is not played at all. So if you play too much, then you're getting in the way of the dance, the song, and the steps and the movement. But if you don't play at all, then it's missed. So this is like the middle way. You don't play too much. But again, if you don't play at all, then you miss it. I have instructed several people in the past 30 years or so, and one of the groups that I taught was members of a Japanese American Community Center. in East San Gabriel Valley called the East San Gabriel Valley Japanese Community Center in West Covina, California.

[12:14]

And before I came to teach, they called themselves West Covina Taiko. And I changed the name to Kishindaiko. And this word means literally return to the heart. because I felt that returning to the heart, returning to one's roots or one's home is like finding out about yourself, finding out about your true self and being your true self. Taiko is something that was imported from Japan and now it's become pretty much an American art form. And this is something that I recognized. and also keeping the tradition alive, but not only keeping the tradition and having it stale and just be static. After I learned the basics in taiko and learned the tradition, I decided to carry it further and started collaborating.

[13:26]

So, for example, I do things like tap dancing with taiko, Taiko with gamelan, Indonesian gamelan with Latin percussion, African. And so these are new traditions being created. And I thought that that was very important to do that. Also, the word kishin, I found that in Hinduism, kishin, is nicknamed for Lord Krishna, who urges one to exit from the cycle of birth and death and to return to Krishna. This could also refer to one's roots or one's home or one's self. In the 1970s, when I first began playing taiko,

[14:32]

the Sansei or the third generation Japanese Americans were searching for their identity, their culture and language and art and religion have all been brought to the United States by the first generation, the Issei. When the Japanese Americans were sent to concentration camps during World War II, much of the culture was suppressed. And Taiko is an art form that is easily accessible. And many third generation Sansei embraced it as part of their cultural heritage. So during the early to mid 70s, there was a lot of awareness going on about identity and ethnic studies began to develop. and multiculturalism and a whole new awareness about who we are.

[15:35]

And so I became an activist in my community, in the Japanese-American community. I joined a group called the Manzanar Committee. Manzanar was one of the ten camps located near Bishop. And we educated people about... what happened during that time because when I was going to high school, it was certainly left out in our history books. So I thought it was important to do that. And it was during this time in 1975 when I was in the Manzanar committee that I was asked to find a taiko group to perform at the pilgrimage. So I Before I started playing taiko, I asked several groups and I couldn't find a group to go up there. So someone told me, don't you have a taiko at the temple?

[16:36]

And I said, why don't you get that out and start practicing? So that's how I got involved. And I had maybe about a month before seeing San Jose taiko perform. So I was very motivated. And as a child, I did play with my chopsticks at the dinner table all the time. So maybe that was a calling that I had from back then. So that's how I started through my political activism. And then from there was kind of like a cultural phase of my life. first becoming politicized and becoming more conscientious about what's going on in the world. And then I got involved through my heritage, through culture, through through the taiko. And I never, you know, stopped since then.

[17:40]

In Shinto mythology, there's a goddess. named Amaterasu. Have you heard of Amaterasu, anyone? Okay. This is the sun goddess. And she was angry with her brother and she hid in a cave. And when she did this, obviously there was no sunshine in the world. And it became, I'm going to use this word, kurai. And so many things were done to try to get Amaterasu out of the cave. And the goddess of dance and music, Uzume, decided to dance on a drum.

[18:45]

And when she heard this... Amaterasu came out of her cave and the whole world was filled with sunshine again. And so I was very much influenced by the story about how the taiko brought back a world of darkness into light again. And, of course, the sun goddess resides in my hometown, which is Ise. at the Issei Grand Shrine, Issei Jingu. So that, I thought, was pretty faithful, too, to hear that story. The taiko was prominent in the creation of villages in Japan. Taiko, the drum, and other cultures, of course, before it was used for music, was used for communication. And boundaries were drawn at the furthest distance that the sound resonated to.

[19:52]

And the center of the village stood a tall tower called a yagura. And a taiko player would stand on top of the yagura and play specific patterns and send messages and announcements. For example, there was a pending storm. or if there was a locust invasion or a fire. So I was used for communication. And so the people that lived in the village depended on the taiko to get news. They didn't have television. They're talking about, okay, what beat is going to be on at 12 o'clock today? Let's see. So the taiko was part of everyday life in Japanese culture and Japanese society.

[20:59]

So, of course, if you're outside the village, you could not hear these messages. Of course, the taiko... was used in religious ceremonies and sacred ceremonies in the Shinto tradition and Buddhism. Taiko is used to announce activities in the monasteries and in the temples. And also the taiko is, or the sound of the taiko, is the voice of the Buddha or the voice of the Dharma or teachings. So when you hear the taiko, it's like listening to the Buddha speak, listening to the teachings. And also, if you listen through your heart and through your soul, you can hear yourself through the taiko. Early on when I was studying taiko, I learned the word ki.

[22:11]

which is qi in Chinese. And this means energy. This also means heart, mind, and soul. All of these things mean qi. So very similar to martial arts, when you're playing taiko, you're aware of your energy, your mind, your heart, and your soul. So all of these things come together when playing the taiko. The first sound that we hear as human beings is the sound of your mother's heartbeat in the womb. That is why babies are known to be low to sleep in Japan by the sound of a very large taiko with a very deep sound. The beating of our hearts is the very rhythm of life itself Like breathing in Zazen, we follow a natural rhythm without consciously knowing it.

[23:19]

Our moods and feelings depend on rhythm in our daily lives, and sometimes we are going along with that beat, and other times we are going against it. Listening and playing the taiko is very much like sitting in Zazen. Sometimes my mind and body are one, and sometimes it isn't. Becoming one with the sound of the taiko is like becoming one with mind and body. There is no separation between myself and the sound, and I am the sound, and it is me. A member of the world-famous taiko group, Kodo, Has anyone seen Kodo? Yes. Okay. Said one time, when I perform, I have very few moments when I feel completely satisfied with myself.

[24:28]

But when I forget myself and become one with the sound of the drum, that is when I am released and feel totally free and So this is just like Zazen. Sometimes we have good sits and sometimes not so good and sometimes in between. Right now, I'm teaching about 16 classes a week in Taiko. And... I teach in various different places. I teach community classes at a Lutheran church, at a Japanese community center, at a museum, at two elementary schools, and a dance studio.

[25:40]

I teach also at my temple, of course, and then at the University of California in Riverside, where I teach an accredited course in Taiko Ensemble. Students there get one unit credit, and they get a little break from their academic studies, and so they can... get the stress and frustrations out so it's a very popular class I have to say and you know they don't have to play well to get an A they just they just have to be there and try and students at end of the quarter perform in a recital on campus And then once a year, we have a taiko concert, a two-hour taiko concert with my students and my performing ensemble.

[26:45]

And there's a taiko club on campus there, too. I also teach at a state forensic hospital. It's a mental hospital, Patton State Hospital in San Bernardino, California. It's a music therapy program. And I've been there now for seven years. And all of the patients there had committed some type of violent crime. And at first I was very scared to go. But I found that it was not only a challenging experience for me teaching the patients there, But I learned a lot from them as well. One patient through taiko admitted quitting smoking. And so you might want to try that.

[27:47]

I also have taught taiko to special ed students. I did a residency at Los Angeles High School with all developmentally challenged children, both physically and mentally challenged students. At one time, I told my students, I'm going to try to teach every person how to play taiko as long as they have at least one arm. But when I taught at this high school, there were children with no arms, children who were deaf and blind. But when we got into teaching the taiko and even the deaf children, even the children with no arms, I could see the joy in their faces.

[29:00]

from the sound or if they could not hear at least the the feel or the vibration of the sound and so when I said years ago that I would teach everyone that had at least one arm I don't think you need to have an arm to appreciate it and to benefit from from that I also taught to a group of young Chinese monks in a monastery called Sage Sagely Monastery. And it was founded by a monk from Hong Kong who founded the Temple of

[30:01]

10,000 Buddhas up in central northern California. And the monks there were from age 10 to 21. And I was really impressed with their energy and their devotion. The senior monk wanted the students not only to the young monks not only to learn or train in chanting and the performing ceremonies, but they wanted music. They wanted to get them music training as well. But this music training had to be spiritual training as well. So that's why they called on me to train these monks.

[31:05]

And some of the monks, the older monks, I found when they went to bed, they were not in a prone or horizontal position like when we go to sleep. But they actually sleep in the zazen. They sleep sitting and they have a little box that they sit in so that they can stay upright. And they also eat only one meal a day. But they eat a lot. One meal is I couldn't. It's so incredible how much they ate. It's like a week's worth, but it's only one time. that they eat. Another group of Buddhists that I teach currently is a group called the Tzu Chi Association.

[32:15]

They're from Taiwan. And they have about 60,000 members here in the United States alone. And they're the second largest bone marrow. donors they and they do a lot of charity work and this is a mostly a lay organization and is headed by a woman who's kind of like a mother Teresa figure in Taiwan and most of the people that I teach are Taiwanese housewives of businessmen and They're so devoted and their technique is not the best, but when they come together and they play, their spirit and their energy is so alive and so united that when they play, they play as one person rather than four or five or six.

[33:18]

And about 10 years ago, They took me to their 30th anniversary celebration in Hualin, which is in the mountains. You've probably seen Chinese brush paintings with the mist and the valleys and the mountains and the rivers. Well, this place looked exactly like those those paintings. And I met the head abbess there and immediately. I was very touched by her and I knew right away how she could affect people just by speaking with her for just a few seconds. And I was only there for four days, but that was a very memorable experience for me teaching at Tzu Chi. But the time is just about up, I think, isn't it?

[34:56]

It's 11 o'clock. Right. Okay. Yes. Okay. So we're going to have a question and answer period during tea later on. So I could answer any questions you have. And then after that, I'll be here for Taiko and... Mokugyo. These are the temple percussion instruments, a workshop after lunch. So thank you very much for listening.

[35:29]

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