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. So we've had a day here that we probably didn't expect to have. Lots of... changes and excitement and I just wanted to, since most of us or many of us are gathered here to let you know, just an update. The fire, because of the fire retardant and the drop in temperatures is quieting right now, according to our wonderful fire professionals. There'll be eight crews of 20 people coming in to the area tomorrow.

[01:07]

They won't necessarily be at Tassajara. They'll be helicoptering from Memorial Seiko over to the fire area, which the director told me is being called the Tassajara Fire. We're the closest point. It's about 200 And there's 650 acres in a square mile. So if you can imagine that. But all these wonderful firefighters are coming in tomorrow to really work on containing it. And so we'll see. There will be more helicopters tomorrow. And we'll have reports at breakfast or posted in the morning. for all of us. So that's the latest update. So lots of changes.

[02:10]

The Zen and Yoga retreat that I'm co-leading with Patricia Sullivan has, not quite half have left, but we're down to a much smaller group. And maybe some of you, your friends have left, people you know. And I was noticing myself the power of causes and conditions, the power of the sound of helicopters and, you know, even the word evacuation, you know, and words like, the road will be closed, there won't be a chance, you know. And I just watched as the words hit or entered my psychophysical being, watching the feelings that came up, the change in heart rate, the growing, I don't know what to call it, excitement or anxiety, and then letting it go and coming back and just appreciating the power of it, the power of being when it causes

[03:23]

that we are causes and conditions. We can't separate ourselves from causes and conditions and how to find our composure, our stability, our careful awareness in the middle of changes that are happening very fast. And in some ways this is always so. You know, every moment there's changes and yet they may be so subtle we don't get too upset or too affected, really. We don't feel it that much. And then there's times when there are big changes. So all of you who are here, I realized you're here because you want to be here. There was a chance earlier today to leave Tassajara. So everyone's here because they really want to be here.

[04:29]

And this is like, really want to be here. I mean, you all want to be here. That's why you're here. And now you've got to confirm that. Reconsecrate yourselves to Tassajara. Now the guests will go over the road. They will get to go home soon. But that feeling of Where do I stand? What's my choice? How do I feel? So each of us got to make that choice today. Kind of unexpectedly. This is not something you had in your vacation plans or your summer plans, perhaps. So in the Yoga Zen Retreat, we've been looking at this, you could call it the principle, maybe, or that might be too intellectual sounding, but the principle. reality of call and response. When there's a call, there's a response.

[05:30]

And in studying it together, we came close to realizing that everything is just call and response. Call and response. The whole world, our whole world together is call and response. and what will be our response, what will be an appropriate response. Sometimes we have an intellectual understanding of our practice and maybe take pride in that or have had some very strong experience or glimpse into the nature of things, you might say. And there could be a tendency to hold to that and cling to that and use that almost as a way of making a place for ourself in the world.

[06:40]

And I think there's a risk or a danger in that, in practice, in our practice life. which is why it's wonderful to practice with others, because they often will call you on it, call in response, or test it in some way, or ask more of you. So I wanted to tell a story tonight, a Zen story of call and response, and maybe all the koans, all the Zen stories express this principle of call and response, which come up together. Inquiry and response come up together as part of one of the poems that we recite. And the Bodhisattva of Infinite Compassion, Guan Yin's name, is the one who hears the cries of the world. So her or his practice is listening

[07:45]

listening to the call and responding. And there's also a female expression of an awakened one, Tara Buddha. And the green Tara sits, she doesn't sit in full lotus, where it might take a little while to uncross her legs. She has one leg hanging down, as does... bodhisattva of infinite compassion, ready to act, ready for fast action. So these are, this is the iconography, you know, in figures, practice figures. How do you embody a being that is ready to respond? What does that look like? What is the posture of readiness to respond? And in these statues, There's a more relaxed one leg ready to actually step forward and meet the situation.

[08:52]

So sometimes our intellectual understanding, which may be very good and is important to study the teachings and have, as a teacher once told me, you need to know more about Buddhism than that your knees hurt. We do need to know something about the teaching. That's very useful. And yet if we get too wrapped up in that, it can separate us, separate us from others, separate us from our direct experience. So the Zen koan that I wanted to bring up, which comes in the commentary in the blue, Book of Serenity, collection of koans. Dogen tells it in his master work, Treasury of the True Dharma Eye, in the Bendo, Whole Heart of Practice chapter, tells this story in the extensive record.

[10:04]

It's all over, and I realized it's been one of my most favorite stories, and in fact, I've heard it and told it many times, and almost every time when I get to the end, I feel like crying. There's something about the story. Maybe that was a spoiler, sorry. But anyway, it always affects me very strongly. This particular koan, which is another koan, my own genjo koan, the koan of actualizing the fundamental point of my own life. How is it that I'm so moved by this story? So I'm still turning that question and the question that comes up or what the koan story is. And this has a kind of endless quality to continue to study and have the aspiration and the will, the willingness to study, not so much will or willpower, but willingness to study and keep studying and studying forever.

[11:08]

That kind of spirit is, I think, what moves me and is, I think, laced within this story as a kind of, between the lines, maybe. So this is a story about Zen master Bauen Schwansa and an encounter with his teacher Fayan. And Fayan... was a very famous teacher. He, in China, in the 800s to 900s, 865 to 958, something like that, China, Tang, Tang, China, Tang Dynasty. And he, Fa Yan, started one of the five houses of Zen, Chinese Zen. There were different lineages and schools. So many, many followers at one time, a thousand monks in his temple complex.

[12:09]

And you may know him as the teacher who was on pilgrimage with a number of his brothers, Dharma brothers, and they got lost in a snowstorm. This is a side story about Vayan. And they ended up at a... monastery of Dijon. And Dijon asked them, well, what are you doing? And Fayan said, I'm going around on pilgrimage. And the teacher said, well, what are you doing? Why are you doing that? And he said, I don't know. And the teacher said, not knowing is most intimate. And at that moment, Fayan was awakened at those words. Not knowing is most intimate, or not knowing is nearest. Not knowing is nearest. Which also kind of underlines this story too, I think, where the knowing side got in the way, I think.

[13:19]

There's another great little story I'll just tell you about Fayan. There was a monk who was living kind of isolated in a hut And he had written, he had a sign over the door that said, mind. And he had another sign over the window that said, mind. And he had a big sign on his wall that said, mind. And Fayan said, it would be better if he had written over the door, door. And a sign over the window saying, window. And a sign on the wall saying, wall. That's Fayan. There's more about Fayan. So, once upon a time, Schwansa was living at Fayan's temple, and Schwansa was the director. He had one of the senior staff positions. It's hard to say whether he was kind of director-treasurer or there was kind of combinations of the different monastic jobs, but...

[14:24]

One translation says director, another says treasurer. So I'm saying he was the director. And he had been at this temple for quite a while. And Fai Yan, who was the abbot, spoke to him and said, Schwanza, how long have you been in this assembly, in this community? And Schwanza said, I've been here about three years. And Fai Yan said, three years? That's... It's quite a long time. How is it that you've never come to me to ask a question? So he'd been in this community three years, had never gone for doksan or to meet face-to-face with the teacher. And Xuanzang said, I dare not deceive you, teacher, but I actually was working with another teacher before I came here, Master Qianfang. under that master, I, you know, received peace and tranquility.

[15:28]

Peace and joy. Basically saying, I realized my true nature. I have, you know, I don't need to come to you. So Fayan said, you know, that's very interesting. Upon what words did you enter this realization? And Schwansa said, I asked Xianfeng, what is the self of the student? Or what is the self of the practitioner? And a kind of meaning of that is, what is my true self? And he said, well, what did the teacher say? And the teacher answered him, the fire boy seeks for fire. And Fayan said, those are very good words, but I see now that you don't understand.

[16:31]

And Schwansa was a little perturbed, and he said, fire boy seeks for fire, the self seeks for self, the self of the self seeks for the self. And then Fayan said, oh, now I know for sure that you didn't understand. Okay. So... Schwanza got very overwrought and upset and kind of stormed out of there, like, you know, how dare you question my realization, and went kind of storming off and was walking down the path and going along. And then while he was walking, he thought, you know, this Fa Yan is, he's a teacher of many, many guides, many, many students. Maybe he had some words, was trying to correct my error, maybe, maybe I should go back, you know. So he turned around and he went back to the temple and he found Fa Yan and he did prostrations in front of him in repentance.

[17:43]

And Fa Yan said, ask your question. And Schwantza said, what is the self of the student? And Fayan said, the fire boy seeks for fire. And at that moment, Schwantza was greatly enlightened. So, the, um, Fireboy, by the way, this is a term, byoji dojo, I think. Did I say that right? Byojo doji, byojo doji, which is the kind of, it refers to the fire apprentice, or the kind of novice monk that goes around and lights the lamps, cares for the fire, sort of like at Tassajara when we had all cares and lamps all over the place, the Jikido, who would be taking care of the lamps, cleaning them, lighting them, putting them out.

[18:59]

So the fire apprentice is another translation of this, or the fire boy. The fire boy seeks for fire. So one might say, well, he just said the exact same thing that other teacher said, didn't he? What's the difference there? How come? What? I don't get it, you know. So what you might, you know, in reflecting on the story, what changed, you know, what were the causes and conditions for this second time around or this next, it wasn't the second time around. It was its own unique time. And what was the difference there? What was the difference in Xuanzang's body-mind and between Fa-yen and Xuanzang, their affinity? So in turning this, looking at this attitude that Xuanzang had,

[20:05]

Being at the monastery for those years, really, three years is kind of a long time not to see any practice leader or a teacher or to check out your practice or to ask about the Dharma. And how come he didn't? Well, he was, what should we say, resting on his laurels. I was recently at the Legion of Honor Museum in San Francisco and saw a laurel wreath, they have one, And it's these bay laurel leaves in gold in this wreath. It's in this case. And you could just picture that being placed on your head as the victorious one. And there it is. And you would never want it to leave. And somehow resting on your laurels, or it's really under your laurels, because I don't think you'd want to sit on your laurel wreath. Anyway, resting under your laurel wreath. So he was kind of resting on, he had this, maybe he had some kind of glimpse with this other teacher, Chiang Feng, so much so that he wasn't totally confused or something.

[21:18]

But what happened there? Do you think he might have clung to that in some way or attached to it or maybe... Was he using it as praising self at the expense of others? He had an understanding. These other people really don't know. I don't need to go to the teacher. And probably because I'm, you know, my understanding or realization is deep enough, wide enough that I don't need to continue study. And I think that kind of notion will be a stumbling block for us, will be, at least I'm mixing my metaphors, a pitfall and a stumbling block. Maybe you stumble and fall to the pit. This will be a problem, you know, to hold to one's understanding or an experience in such a way that one isn't ready for,

[22:24]

to, with open hands, listen to something else, because all of our understanding, you know, there's something missing. When the Dharma fills our body and mind, we know there's something missing. And this is what, you know, endlessly allows us to keep studying, to keep asking, to keep listening, and to be ready to learn from As that one Zen teacher said, if the seven-year-old young girl is teaching Dharma, I'll learn from her. If an 80-year-old Zen master teaches out whoever to be open and ready 360 degrees to listen and to respond to that call of the Dharma. So I think Shwanza was a little bit not so open, right?

[23:24]

even to the abbot of the monastery, this very famous teacher. So then in talking with the teacher, this is my comments, you know, my commentary, and the kindness of the teacher, the kindness of Fayan, rather than, I don't know what he could have done, yelled at him, or, you know, there's these different modes of Zen teachers yelling, striking, pushing him out the door, excuse me, You know, all sorts of stuff. But instead, he just said, oh, you know, I see. You know, kind of kindly. Yes, well, those were good words, but I see now you didn't quite understand them. Kind of kindly, kind of grandmotherly, actually, I think. But he left in a big huff. You don't know what you're talking about. You're a bunch of baloney. I know, you know. and stomping off. It says, the translation says, overwrought.

[24:25]

So I kind of imagine him shaking on his sleeves and striding away. But then, on the road, something dawned upon him, like, hmm. Maybe he said to himself, Schwanzer, wait a minute here. And he did say, I mean, Story says, he said, this is a guiding teacher for many, many, maybe there was something there. This is, what is that that arose, you know, that responded to this situation that cut through his clinging maybe to his own understanding and allowed him to turn around and head on back. And it must have, you know, that must have taken a lot. And then not only that, to go before the teacher and this detail that says he did prostrations. You know, I think before Fayan had to say, have you, you know, he had to go after him a little bit.

[25:31]

He goes to the teacher and bows in repentance. And repentance means to be sorry, to actually feel sorrow for your actions. And I think he truly did feel like. I'm off here, and made these bows, got his head down to the ground, full prostrations, not so high and mighty, but humbled, meaning close to the ground, grounded, and right then the teacher says, ask your question. And out of that posture, the posture both physically the posture and also full body-mind physically and mentally, emotionally, humbly asking his question, what is the self of the student? And then the fire boy seeks for fire.

[26:35]

And in this, at this moment, he really was seeking. The fire boy was truly seeking. His way-seeking mind had arisen and had turned him around to go. Asking. Truly asking. Truly seeking. Humbly. Not full of himself and his ideas. So this... This story, as I said at the beginning, I always feel tears well up at what happened to Schwansa, this turning and the meeting, their meeting, and his understanding, his nature, his own nature is the way-seeking nature and Buddha-seeking Buddha.

[27:39]

or fire boy seeking fire boy, this nature of Buddha nature. Buddha nature seeks for Buddha nature. But if we just think, oh, Buddha nature seeks for Buddha nature, okay, got that. Dogen actually says, and Suzuki Roshi says, too, in his commentary on this koan, if Buddhism were like that, It would never have lasted until this day if it was, okay, we're Buddha nature, all of us are Buddha nature, and so we try and seek that, and great. It would have died out long ago. How could it have lasted that long if it was just some intellectual kind of, yeah, I kind of get it. So one has to fully, you know, this full bow into our life, plunging into the vow, plunging into the vow of our life with full seeking, not with self-concern and am I shining?

[28:54]

How am I seeing? How do I look? How do people see me? Setting that all aside and just being open and ready at any moment to ask and seek, not for selfish desire or for our self alone in some way, taking care of our self alone, but this wider seeking because we long to meet our true self. So it's almost time to end lecture, believe it or not. I think I wanted to end with a poem that I've been practicing reciting. And I recited it recently in a Dharma talk.

[29:59]

after the Dharma talk, I realized, oh, there's a whole Zen story that could have been involved with this poem, which didn't even occur to me. It came to me later. And the poem is called From Blossoms by Li Yang Li. Li Yang Li, a Chinese poet. I think that's his name, Li Yang Li. And it's a poem about peach blossoms, which is wonderful for the middle of summer when the peaches are in, you know, and they are luscious, you know. And the Zen story is of a Ryu and the Zen master who was awakened upon seeing peach blossoms in bloom, directly seeing, directly seeing and understanding the reality of his life. Upon seeing peach blossoms, call and response, seeing these peach blossoms.

[31:02]

So this poem is kind of just a summer poem. From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend of the road when we turned toward signs painted peaches. From laden boughs From hands, from sweet fellowship in the bins comes nectar at the roadside, succulent peaches that we devour, dusty skin and all. Comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. Oh, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade not only the sugar but the days to hold the fruit in our hand and adore it and bite into the round jubilance of peach they are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background from joy to joy from wing

[32:31]

to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom to sweet impossible blossom. So in learning this poem, I realized that it's filled with these images right in the middle of the luscious succulents. full summer, peach and blossoms. There's, you know, this line, there are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background, as if. But of course we always know. And in that first verse there's, I think the word dust is like three times familiar dust of summer, dusty skin, dust, dust from dust to dust. from dust, we come from dust. So right in the middle of our luscious, succulent jubilance of peach, there's the shade and the dust as if death were nowhere in the background.

[33:45]

But of course, because death is in the background, because death is in the background, this joy is possible. That may seem like that doesn't go together, but knowing the transience of our life, the impermanence, the impermanence of each thing we love, each person, each moment, tasahara, you know. Knowing that we can take joy in our life together and in caring for each thing. and appreciating and loving each and everything. Thank you very much. Thank you for listening to this podcast offered by the San Francisco Zen Center.

[34:49]

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.

[35:04]

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