This podcast is offered by San Francisco's Zen Center on the web at sfcc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Yesterday was the 49th day after the passing of our great friend and teacher. He's Suzuki Sensei, who we called Sensei and we called Okusang. And now, that passage, she has a new name, which is Jigetsu Myoman Zenmi. Zen priest. mood of loving kindness.

[01:05]

Yesterday was the 49th day, but because of people's schedules, the city center schedule, we moved the memorial ceremony to today. So this afternoon, we will have a memorial ceremony in her honor, her memory. I've heard that she was born in 1914 in a city in Japan called Shizuoka, which means quiet hills. April 23, 1914. She lived a life that had many difficulties and she frequently spoke of the necessity of difficulties in order to bring out our virtues.

[02:31]

She said sometimes she felt sorry for modern Japanese children who have life so easy. It's difficult for them to mature without some challenges. Parents love their children and don't want to give them unnecessary difficulties. They see that the children are already having a hard time, but sometimes difficulties come anyway, and sometimes the children mature in the face of hardship.

[03:34]

Oksan, Suzuki Sensei, was one of these people who had hardship and did mature. When she was 11, her mother died. So she became the woman of the house, taking care of the rest of her family. When she was about 19, having become... disenchanted by the Buddhist practice that she experienced in Japan. She felt it was not warm, maybe cold, and too ritualistic. She became a Christian.

[04:35]

She joined the Christian church when she was 19. When she was 22, in 1936, she got married to a man named Matsuno, Masahiro. And then in 1937, when Japan went to war with China, her husband went into the Air Force and died rather soon, just a few weeks. after their daughter was born. So now she's living in Japan during the war, taking care of her baby and other family members. Towards the end of the war, actually shortly before the end of the war, her hometown, city of Shizuoka, was burned to the ground

[05:44]

She lived through that. At some point, maybe after the war, she went to school and got credentials to teach and became the principal of one or two kindergartens. in Shizuoka. At that same time, in a small town near Shizuoka called Yaizu, there lived a Zen priest named Suzuki Shinryu. He wanted to rebuild the kindergarten associated with his temple, Renso-in. and went looking for someone to take charge of the kindergarten.

[06:51]

I guess he heard about Matsuno Mitsu-san and went to meet her and invited her to come and visit his temple kindergarten. And she said she really couldn't leave and didn't even have time to go visit but as the story goes he was persistent I didn't so much think of Suzuki Roshi as persistent but he's described as persistent on this point and he kept begging her to come to visit and finally just to visit And finally, she did come to visit, and as the story goes, when she saw the school, she was convinced that it was appropriate for her to leave Shizuoka and go to Yaizu and take over this kindergarten.

[08:00]

So then they became close colleagues, taking care of the children, and also I heard Suzuki Roshi went to this kindergarten, The Zen priest went to the kindergarten to teach the children. And so they worked together from around 1946, I would guess. And then the terrible tragedy happened at Suzuki Roshi's temple. His wife was murdered by an insane monk. who was staying in the temple. And left Suzuki Hiroshi with the temple and three children. And people felt that he needed help. He needed a wife.

[09:01]

And so Matsuno Mitsu was the one invited. by Suzuki Roshi and the congregation to come and be Suzuki Roshi's wife. They were married in 1958. In 1959, Suzuki Shinryu Roshi was invited to come to America of all places San Francisco, and become the abbot of a temple called Sokoji, which is on Laguna, over that way. Actually, it's on Laguna and Bush. And he always wanted to go to America and give Americans something really valuable.

[10:10]

So he wanted to accept, and it was a limited invitation. I've heard that it was for three years or less. So he accepted the invitation, and now he leaves his dear wife and colleague after a pretty short time to take care of Rin Soin and the children and two kindergartens. Here she is, a woman who can face difficulty and she stayed and did take care of all that. And he came over here and did this little Zen thing. He came and gave the gift that he wanted to give. He came to do his job as a priest to encourage the practice of Zazen.

[11:17]

encourage the practice which is unsurpassed complete perfect enlightenment whereby there is an unceasing effort to free all beings so they may dwell in peace he kept giving this gift to Japanese Americans and also to beatniks and hippies who gradually found out about him and came to practice with him. 1959. He's living in the temple by himself. And one time, Ok San told me a story about something that happened during that time. At night, he would lock up the temple.

[12:20]

And so he did one night. But one of the students hid in the temple. And after locking it up and going up to his room, she went up to his room. To make a long story short, he escorted her to the door. Or maybe to make a short story long, He escorted her to the door. And after that, I think it was kind of hard on him that some of the students didn't understand what was appropriate in terms of their teacher. It was hard for him to continue to be the very warm and compassionate person that he was concerned that people would misunderstand his kindness.

[13:25]

I think it put him into a painful conflict of how to transmit this teaching that people might misunderstand. One way to say it is that therefore Oksan came. Another way to say it is, after three years, he could see that three years wasn't long enough, and the children were older, so he asked her to come. When she arrived, it made things clearer, or she made things clearer. He was not alone in the temple. There was a very kind and fierce person living with him. There would be no nonsense. From 1961 when she came, Zen Center started around the same time she arrived.

[14:37]

From 1961 to 1967, Suzuki Roshi was teaching, Oksan was supporting him, protecting him, assisting him, and the... the group was developing. In 1966 and 67, Zen Center found this place called Tassahara and started in the summer of 1967 a monastery in the valley of Tassahara Hot Springs. I went there in August of 1967 to visit, and Suzuki Roshi and Okusan were not there. And then I left, and I didn't like Tazahara very much. I thought it smelled bad, and there were so many flies.

[15:40]

But after I left in the weeks and months following, I thought, well, maybe actually I'll go back. And so I went back to San Francisco, wanted to meet Suzuki Roshi. And I did meet him. And after meeting him, I decided that I might move to San Francisco, which I did. following that, in the spring of 68. And I practiced at this temple, Sokoji, from that time. Fortunately for me, the day I arrived, there was a place to stay right across the street from the temple. So I lived across from the temple for the rest of that year, and I practiced in that zendo.

[16:47]

And in that zendo, there was a feeling. And it was a feeling which I... a precious, encouraging, deep, sweet, calm presence. And the temples on Bush Street, which has... had a lot of traffic, maybe even more than Oak Street. So while we're sitting, you know, it goes... But still very calm in the temple, in Zendo. And right next to the Zendo was Suzuki Roshi's office, and on the other side of the Zendo was the kitchen. And the temple, I don't know, it didn't seem to be a rich temple, but the altar was always full of flowers.

[17:48]

And there was a feeling of life and a great fragrance, lovely fragrance, which wasn't just the flowers in the room. Somehow, Okusan, Mitsu Suzuki, and Suzuki Roshi together created this living spirit in that room. In the summer of 1969, in early 1969, Suzuki Roshi and Zentana received word from the Japanese American congregation of Sokoji Temple that the number of non-Japanese Americans practicing at Sokoji was outnumbering the Japanese Americans. They were feeling crowded out, and they asked the non-Japanese Americans

[18:51]

to maybe find another place to practice. In a very polite way, they asked us to find another place. And our members found another place. Here it is. It's this place. So in the summer of... And I remember we had a meeting one time. We sat in a circle in the Zendo. And... considering whether to buy this place. And Jacques Chou Kwong said to Suzuki Roshi, well, what do you think, Roshi? Do you think we should do it? And he said, mm-hmm. And that was that. So we went ahead and purchased this building for the actually good price back then, too, $425,000. It took a while to pay for it, but basically we knew it was a good deal.

[19:56]

So then in the autumn of 1969, we moved in here. Suzuki Hiroshi and Oksan moved in here, and 75 students moved in. Now we were living together in this building. Suzuki, Rushi, and Oxon live right up there. In January of 1970, we experienced our first New Years here in the building, I remember, and we sat in the zendo in the evening, and we started the practice of ringing the bell 108 times around the beginning of the year, and we also sat through the whole night.

[21:41]

And in the morning, we went up on the roof and had a toast to celebrate the beginning of the new year with our teacher. Then I went to Tassajara and... Sussigurshi did not lead that practice period. He stayed here in the city, and during that first three months of 1970, the teacher who was visiting Tassajara, who was leading the practice period that I was participating in, came up from Tassajara to the city center, and they had a ceremony, a formal ceremony, to open the zendo. And the zendo was named Maha Bodhisattva Zendo.

[22:49]

The temple name had not been given yet, just the zendo. And at that time, this room became the Buddha Hall. Before that, this room was a very nice living room. This is a fireplace, and there were lots of big stuffed chairs in here. You know, it was like the dining room of a... of a millionaire, and we got to sit in it. But then, at that time, in the spring of 70, this became our Buddha Hall. So we had Zendo and Buddha Hall. Then in the summer of 1970, Oksan and Suzuki Rishi came down to Tassajara, and they made a film of him at Tassajara at that time. of him and his students, which you can see on YouTube. And I remember at that time, he was talking and he, Suzuki Roshi said, my disciples such and such.

[24:06]

And after the talk, I said, Roshi, and when he said that, I thought, I wonder who his disciples are. I was wondering if I was one of his disciples. And so after the talk, I said, Roshi, you said you referred to your disciple. Who are your disciples? And he said, I don't like to think this way, but there's two kinds of students at Tassahara. One kind are here for the welfare of themselves. Another kind are here to help others. My students are the ones who are here to help others. I was wondering which category I was in. At that time, I was also helping him sometimes move rocks in the garden.

[25:11]

Big rocks. Rocks, I don't know. rocks like, you know, four or five feet long and two feet wide and three feet tall. Rocks weighing maybe a ton. We had various tools and young men to help him move the rocks. So we're moving the rocks around in the garden, and his wife, Mitsu, comes out of the abbot's cabin, which is right there, And she kind of, I would say, barks. Barks something. It was in Japanese. I don't know what it was. But then he said something to me in English. And I don't really remember what it was, but it's something like, either, she thinks she has me on a leash.

[26:12]

You know, she thinks so. But actually, you know, kind of like, he didn't say this part, but the implication was, actually, she doesn't. Actually, I'm free. And then there was some, also over the years, there was some kind of like explanation of this, that because she was a principal of a kindergarten for so long... There was some tendency to try to... I don't know what the word is. Anyway, take care of Suzuki Roshi. Make sure that he was doing his job properly. He did a great job. He did do his job properly. And she was helping him. I felt he was being a little defensive.

[27:18]

Kind of like, I'm a zen master, you know. The other interpretation was that maybe he had her on a leash, so she wouldn't really be able to cause any trouble. I don't know which way it was. But anyway, also at that time, I was having kind of an easy time practicing there. I was enjoying being there with him, but basically having an easy time. And I had been having a hard time during the whole time I had been in Zen Center before that. I was having a hard time sitting still. You know, not for ten minutes, but for sitting still a lot. It was hard for me. And I had come to a place where I wasn't having a hard time anymore, and I thought maybe something was wrong.

[28:23]

So I went and asked him about it. And said, am I missing something? And he took a piece of paper and folded it. He said, when we practice origami, we make the fold, and after we make the fold, we press. Sometimes the folds are rather difficult, but once they're made, we just press on them for a while. And that's not so hard. So the next day, the next fold came to me. The officers of Zen Center asked me to leave Tatsahara and come to this building to be the director. And I said, okay, did you ask Suzuki Roshi? And they said, yeah, we asked him. He said, okay. I said, all right. So then I came up here to be director, and one of the jobs of the director was to assign rooms to people.

[29:32]

So I, you know, took the opportunity to abuse my power. I didn't evict anybody, but I assigned myself to that room right there, room 10. I assigned my room right next to Suzuki Rashi. So that from then on, for the rest of his life, I was right there. If he needed me for anything, generally speaking, if I was in my room, I had my door open so he and Oksan could ask my help for anything. I was available. I didn't go to them to say, can I hang out? But this wonderful woman, I don't know why she did it, but I don't know why she did it, but she would invite me to come into her lovely little kitchen, and she gave me a chair, and the chair she gave me was the chair closest to Page Street, and then she would make tea and give me pickles.

[30:43]

And she only gave me green tea. I never asked for any other kind of tea. She made green tea, and the way she made it was she had a brown ceramic, like a cup with a spout on it, and she would pour the boiling water into the brown ceramic receiving cup, and then she'd put the tea in another cup, and then she would pour from the brown cup into the teapot, and then pour the tea. And looking back now, when I look at that, I see that receiving cup. It's radiant. And the room was, the kitchen was radiant. And she invited us to come in. She didn't have to. I mean, she did have to. But anyway, she invited us. We didn't go and knock on the door. Can we come in? She came to us and invited us in. Again and again and again. Didn't she? She did.

[31:48]

And sometimes Suzuki Roshi was there, sometimes he wasn't, but it was always this wonderful gift, this wonderful transmission of Zazen, this wonderful transmission of stillness and silence in the middle of the city. In the fall of 1970, later in the fall, towards, I guess in December, yeah, Suzuki Roshi and Oksan went to Japan to conduct, partly, to conduct diamond transmission with the second abbot, Richard Baker Roshi, and then they came back at the end of, oh no, I'm a year off.

[32:51]

That's the year before. No, that's right, 1970. 1970. Yeah, 1970 they went and did that. And it came back. And then 1971 we started. And then in March of 1971, Suzuki Rishi was invited to go to Portland to teach Duluth Sashin. And we went to Portland. He asked me to be his attendant, so we went to Portland. And during the sitting, I was carrying the stick. And during the sitting, he leaned forward like this while sitting and stayed down for a while. And I said, I went over to him, I said, Roshi, are you okay? And he said, I have a terrible pain.

[33:52]

So he left the sitting and went to the place where we were staying and asked me to stay and finish it, which I did. And then we went back to San Francisco. And when we got to the airport, in those days, people could go right up to the gate. So Oxon and Yvonne Rand were there waiting for us. with a wheelchair, and Roshi said, I don't need the wheelchair. I'm a Zen master. Again, I thought maybe he was being a little defensive. But anyway, he did walk. And then we walked in here, and he walked up the stairs and down the hall to his room, and he went into his room. But when he got in his room, he just let his rope drop off him. which I never saw him do before. He was having a little trouble with the pain and didn't have time to fold his robes properly, just let him drop.

[35:05]

And I thought, wow. And then the ambulance came and took him away to the hospital. So he had his gallbladder removed. And he didn't tell us, and Oksan didn't tell us, that it was malignant. I think they were hoping and thinking that maybe now that's out, he would be feeling better. And around that time, Oksan really started to write poetry to help her deal with her husband's sickness. And he did seem to be getting healthier and healthier. And then in the summer of 71, he went to Tassajara.

[36:10]

And he worked really hard. And so I heard that one day he was working in the garden, and Okusan Mitsu-sensei yelled at him and said, she called him, in my hearing, she called him Hojo-san. That's what I always heard her call him. Hojo is like the abbot's room, and san, like, polite turn. Hojo-san is a name called the abbots in Japan. Hojo-san, you're cutting your life short, working so hard. And he said, if I don't cut my life short, my students will not grow.

[37:13]

And she said, go ahead and cut your life short if that's what you want. And around that time she wrote, Hojo, In her writing, she just says, Hojo. Hojo and I are staying at Tassajara during the month of August. Dharma talk every evening after evening. Blood and sweat. Hojo and I write haiku together. And then they came back from Tassajara to the city center here. And when he came back, his skin had turned yellow. They thought he had jaundice, but quickly found out that it was liver cancer. She wrote, Hojo is getting sicker and sicker.

[38:15]

the illness was much stronger than we thought, came faster and stronger than we thought, so he only lived until December 4th of that year. Close to the end of his life, Oksan Mitsu-sensei said to him, after you die, what should I do? He said, stay here and help these people. And she said, I'm only able to help them because I'm with you. And he said, you are a fair and honest person. Therefore, you will be able to help them. This is 1971.

[39:28]

She related this story in 1991 and she said, now for the last 20 years, every day I'm filled with gratitude that he trusted me. And his trust was fulfilled. All these years, these 20 years, she grew and grew and It became more and more the embodiment of the founder's wisdom and compassion. She lived in San Francisco for 33 years. She lived in this building for 25 years. 23 years after her husband departed. And she happily and heroically practiced here, taking care of all the students, encouraging us to continue the practice.

[40:40]

When I was ordained here in 1970, August, before the ceremony, I was up in Suzuki Roshi's room and Oksan was in the room and I looked at a table tabletop that's still there large piece of wood on a table which was given to Suzuki Roshi as a gift by the people who were ordained as priests a month or so before and so I thought well maybe I should give a present to Suzuki Roshi now that I'm being ordained. So I said to Oksan, what gift should I give to Suzuki Roshi to express my gratitude for his kindness of ordaining me as a Zen priest? And she said, she didn't yell, she just said firmly, practice.

[41:48]

She had already learned from him that the greatest gift, the gift he came to San Francisco to transmit, was the practice of enlightenment. She understood that that's the gift we give. And that's the gift she gave. And if you want to give her a gift, I think what she would want you to give her would be to practice. Practice enlightenment. Remember stillness all day long. Like she did. Like Suzuki Rishi did. Receive stillness. Practice stillness. And transmit stillness to everyone you meet.

[42:54]

in all your daily life. Just like Suzuki Roshi, just like Osan. This is what they want us to do to repay their kindness to us. I think, I think so. They may want some other things too sometimes, but this is the main thing. I'm chuckling because When I was living in room 10, they sometimes would come and ask me to help them with things. One of the things they asked me to help them with was their television wasn't working. So they asked me to fix their television. And I said, okay. And so I had this brilliant idea to go up on the roof. and checked the antenna.

[44:00]

And it was disconnected. So I connected it, and I came down, and so they thought I was a genius. And invited me on later occasions to perform similar technological feats. Another time I came in, something wasn't working. And I got down behind whatever it was. And it was unplugged, so I plugged it in. Because I was nearby and had my door open, if they needed me, they could ask. And I was so happy to help them in any way because they were so kind to me. And I think all of us felt that way. So, after Suzuki Roshi died, Okasan stayed, just like he suggested.

[45:05]

1971, 72, 73, 74, she stayed. In 1974, she received license to be a tea teacher, which Suzuki Roshi encouraged her to learn the... the tea ceremony tradition. She became a successor in that tradition, a motesenke tradition, and she became a tea teacher and made her room into a tea room, and people started to come and study tea with her. Some of the people are here right now. So she formally taught tea and informally taught Zen, throughout the building, year after year. In 1983, we entered a period of great difficulty at Zen Center, and she just continued her practice, continued to remind us of the practice in the midst of all the emotional turmoil.

[46:22]

She was not in a position to, you know, give lectures and tell us what to do. So she would tell individuals. Like she said to me one time, Suzuki Roshi's way is not to hate. Some people were hating, right here in the Zen Center. People were hating people, hating their Sangha members. Shiris reminded his way was not to hate. Sometimes she would hear people talking about criticizing other people and she would remind us to study ourself. Maybe the people at Zen Center are forgetting to study themselves, she would say, during this time. Continually reminding us to remember stillness and to receive it and practice it in the midst of all this turmoil.

[47:29]

being kind to all parties, and also honest. And many of us helped her too, like one time I took her to her doctor's appointment, and she had a very nice doctor. His name was Sander Burstein. He was very nice to her, but still I could tell she had a little difficulty understanding and being able to express her needs in English. And as she got approached 80, she started to think, maybe I should go back to Japan, where I can really understand the doctors and communicate my situation better, more easily, more accurately. So when she was 80 years old, 1994, she went back to Japan.

[48:32]

After she went back, she lived with her daughter, but she continued to write poetry and keep in communication with all of the people here at Zen Center, and stay in touch with Rinso in Temple, and take good care of herself, exercising and not hating. Not hating. It's very good for our health. So she lived to be 102. And her mind was good up until just a few minutes before she had to go away. And I was surprised to hear this, that one of her granddaughters said to her, grandmother, it would be really difficult if you die at New Year's.

[49:44]

Please don't die at New Year's. So she didn't. She waited until January 9th. And so they could take care of her and do a wonderful ceremony for her in Japan, I guess on January 14th and 15th. He said to me one time, my years at Zen Center were the best of my life. Of course, she was making great effort in Japan through all that hardship, but at Zen Center, her life bloomed into great wisdom and great compassion for all our benefits. And then when she went to Japan, she continues to be a wonderful person, but in retirement, in her little house, with not so many people being able to partake of her kindness.

[51:00]

So it was a great 33-year run here. We're so blessed. And I still am inspired and filled with gratitude, thinking of how kind she was to us. She still... How does she say it? The temple bell is rung. is still swinging. May all be at peace. 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.

[52:08]

Your financial support helps us to continue to offer the Dharma. For more information, please visit sfcc.org and click Giving. May we all fully enjoy the Dharma.

[52:21]

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