This podcast is offered by the San Francisco Zen Center on the web at sfzc.org. Our public programs are made possible by donations from people like you. Good morning, everyone. I'm really happy to be here again this morning. I'm asked... to talk to the children first. So let me talk about a story about Oryoki bowl and Ryokan-san. I think you may know the Oryoki bowl. It's very important bowl for us Zen Buddhist priest. We eat with the bowl and also we use the bowl for or begging. So one bowl can be a bowl to receive offering, and we use the bowl for eating also.

[01:15]

And this person, Ryokan-san, is a very famous person, Soto Zen Buddhist monk. When he was young, He wanted to practice Zen. So he started to live in a small temple in his hometown. And one time, a great Zen master visited that temple and he wanted to become his student. So he went to this Zen master's monastery and practiced with that teacher. And he practiced for 10 years or more. And when he completed his training, he received Orioki as a symbol of dharma transmission, and also he received staff for travelling, black staff for travelling. Since then, this Orioki received his teacher and also the staff to walk.

[02:23]

It became a very important thing for him. So whenever he traveled, he carried the oryoki and the staff. And about 20 years after he left his hometown, he returned to his hometown, and he lived in a heritage. And his practice was begging, or takuhatsu. So he always walking on the street, in the villages and towns. And whenever He, Ryokan-san, walked in the town on the street. Children get together and came to Ryokan-san because they knew Ryokan-san loved children. So often he forget about begging and he started to pray with children. Sometimes he played with the ball, bouncing the ball, and he forgets the time.

[03:28]

He played with those children all day. He was a very wonderful poet. He wrote many work-up poems about playing with children. One of them is as follows. playing ball with the children in this village. Spring day, never let the shadow fall. So he enjoyed so much to play with children, bouncing ball. He didn't want to stop it, so he wished never sunset. Then he can play with children forever. Unfortunately, maybe that was not possible. And another time in the spring, when he was walking on the road in the village, he saw many violets and dandelions all over the rice paddies before planting the rice.

[04:54]

children came to play with him, so he again forget about begging. So he started to play with children and picked violets and dandelions and put them in his begging bowl. And he wrote another poem, that is, I was on my way to beg, but passing by a spring field, spent the whole day picking violets. So he completely forget about his job, but he prayed with children the entire day. And another poem, In my begging bowl, violets and dandelions are mixed together.

[05:56]

Let's make an offering to all the Buddhas in the three times. So begging the bowl is a bowl to receive offering from the people for Ryokan. But this time he picked those beautiful flowers violets and dandelions and put it on his begging bowl and offer those beautiful flowers to the Buddhas and ancestors. So begging bowl become a bowl to offer. That is how he practiced with children. He really loved the children. He played with children like that. Somehow he forget to take his ball.

[07:01]

So he left the ball by the roadside and went back to his hut. And after he arrived at his heritage, he remembered that his ball was not with him. The ball was very important friends for him. Wherever he went, he carried the ball. But somehow he found he left the ball on the roadside. So he was so sad and anxious if someone took his ball away and he lost the ball forever. So he was so sad all day, all night long. So next morning, he ran to the place he played the day before, and he found the ball was still there.

[08:07]

That means no one took the ball. And he wrote a poem again about the ball he left. Poem is, Oh, my poor begging ball, I left it behind, picking violet by the roadside. So he was so sad. And another poem, I left my begging ball behind, and yet no one took it. No one took the begging ball. No one took it. My poor begging bowl. So he was very happy that no one took his bowl. And yet he also had a little sad that no one took it.

[09:11]

That means no one didn't care about the bowl. That means the bowl, because he used the bowl for so long time, as a friend, the ball was not new and not in a good shape. So no other people care about this ball. So he had a kind of mixture of being happy and sad. No one care about this ball. But so he took back his ball and he continued to using the ball. Well, that was how Ryokan-san practiced and played with children. And playing with his children is one of his very important practices of identity action. Well, this is my story.

[10:14]

I hope it's long enough. And I hope you understand. OK. Okay. Good morning again. I live in Bloomington, Indiana. And this time, so now it's very cold. It's covered with snow or ice or at least frost.

[11:17]

And when I came to California, I was surprised whether this is winter or not. This time, I visited five Zen centers. in the Bay Area, and I gave seven talks. This is the seventh, this is the last one, so I'll be happy after this talk. Anyway, this time I talk on two newly published books to introduce them. One is the Zen teaching of homeless Kodo. This was published in October last year. And this was a collection of Kodo Sawaki-Roshi's short sayings selected by my teacher Uchiyama Kosho-Roshi.

[12:20]

And he wrote short comments. And originally this used to be a newspaper article series. It lasts about more than one year. And it was published, you know, 40 years ago or so. Anyway, Sawaki Kozoroshi was my teacher's teacher, and he died 1965, December 21st. So this year, in December, we'd have the 50th anniversary, 50th of his death. So I wanted to make a new translation of this book. And the editor asked me to write my own commentaries on Sawaki Roshi's and Ucham Roshi's sayings. So I'm very happy. This book is published now before Sawaki Roshi's 50th anniversary.

[13:25]

Anyway, another book. is this one. The title is Zen of Four Seasons, Dogen Zenji's Waka. I translated one Waka poem by Dogen for Sanxin Zen community e-newsletters each month, and I write a short explanations on each worker poem. And in the first year, I translated 12 worker poems on the four seasons, spring, summer, fall or autumn, and winter. So this is a collection of 14 worker poems. I added two poems as a

[14:27]

introduction and conclusion. So this includes 14 Waka poems by Dogen on four seasons, so three Waka's in each season. We made this at Sanxinzen Community, so this is not available, not published from the publisher, commercial publisher, and In Bloomington, we have a person who is an expert of traditional bookbinding, especially Asian. And he bound this book traditional Japanese way. And he bought the paper from Nepal. This is a handmade paper from Nepal. And kindly, Kazu Tanahashi, he's a great calligrapher, made two calligraphs for this book.

[15:38]

I really appreciate his kindness. Anyway, this morning I'd like to introduce one of Dogen Zenji's waka poem. This one is about the autumn, actually late autumn. If you know the season in Japan, it's really different from California. We have very clear four seasons and each season has three months length from ancient times China. And in Japan, we received a calendar from China. So one season has three-month length, and first to third month is winter, and fourth to sixth is summer, and seventh to ninth month, lunar month, is autumn, and tenth to

[16:50]

12th is the winter. And this poem is about 9th lunar month. That is around November in Japan. When I moved to Minneapolis from Japan, I was surprised. They don't have four seasons. They only have two seasons. You know, one is, of course, winter. You know, almost half a year is winter. And another season they called a season for road construction. And I lived in Minneapolis for four years teaching at the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center. Then I moved to California. First, I lived in Los Angeles. That was another extreme.

[17:54]

They don't have winter. And I lived in Los Angeles, then moved to San Francisco. The weather was much better, better than Minneapolis or Los Angeles. But we don't have seasons. That was kind of a frustration to me. So when I planned to establish my own temple, I wanted to find a place where there are four seasons. And now I live in Bloomington, Indiana. So we have a cold winter and hot summer, but also a very beautiful spring and fall. So I'm really happy. For us Japanese, those four seasons, the beauty of each season is really important to keep peace of mind.

[18:56]

Anyway, this is the Waka poem by Dogen about the scenery of ninth renommence, that is about the end of the autumn. Before this worker poem, there's a little short explanation. That is, on the 25th day of the ninth month of the second year of Kangen era, that is 1244, there was the first snowfall of more than one hut. On that occasion, Dogen composed this poem. This was written in the year 1244. If you are familiar with Dogenzenji's life, this is a kind of important year.

[20:04]

That means he established his own first monastery in Kyoto, named Koshoji. in 19, I mean, 1233, and he lived there and practiced with his disciples for 10 years in Kyoto. But for some reason, he had to leave Kyoto and move to HZM. We really don't know exactly what was the reason, but his move, his and his sound move, seems very abrupt. If we have a plan and to move, then first we choose the place and build a new temple, and after the temple is ready, they move. But when Dogen and his Sangha moved to Echizen, where he established a Heiji, they didn't have temple.

[21:12]

After they moved, they started to build a temple. They moved in the summer of 1243, that year before he wrote this poem. He didn't have a new temple, so he stayed in a small temple named Yoshimedera, or another temple named Yamashibu. He didn't have a monastery. for more than one year. So it must be a kind of a difficult transition for his sangha. But Dogen Zenji was a very amazing person. Within this time, when he didn't have temple, he wrote almost 40 fascicles of Shobogenzo. probably because he didn't need to give a Dharma discourse, or taught, or they couldn't have session, or formal practice.

[22:26]

So probably he could focus on writing, and he wrote many fascicles of Shobo Genzo. The construction of the new temple started in the spring of 1244. And the dharma hall was completed. Construction of the dharma hall was completed in the fall. And he moved to a new temple named Daibutsuji. Daibutsu means a great Buddha temple. Later, two years later, he changed the name of the temple into Eiheiji. Anyway, this time, in the fall of this year, he just moved into Daibutsuji. And probably right after that, he saw, you know, the colors of mountains are so beautiful.

[23:32]

You know, each and every tree has different colors. And on that beautiful colors of the leaves, they had snow. And it said they had one foot of snow. That means, you know, huge amount of snow. And it was very rare in this scenery. There is autumn and winter together. So his poem is as follows. In the month of long nights, on the colorful leaves, it snowed. Why don't those who see this compose a poem? Let me read it again.

[24:34]

Let me read in Japanese first, and in English. This is Japanese, and my English translation is, In the month of long nights, On the colorful leaves, it snowed. Why don't those who see this compose a poem? So this is a kind of a very unusual scenery. You know, the beauty of the colors of leaves, but on that colorful mountains, they had snow. So within autumn, Winter is already there. The first poem of early spring has kind of the same situation.

[25:51]

That is, the first poem in the early spring is, although it is snowing ceaselessly, At the gate of the mountain valley, the wobbler is a small bird singing with a very beautiful voice. The wobbler is singing. Spring has already come. So in this poem, the scenery is completely like winter. Everything is covered with snow, but this tiny bird start to sing. And that was the sign of the spring. So in this poem, winter and spring are both there. But in this poem about the autumn, autumn and winter are both there.

[26:52]

So what is this? Is this winter or is this fall? Or is this winter or spring? that has something to do with Japanese sensitivity about the seasons. You know, because of the calendar, in the calendar, this is certainly a fall, because this is still ninth month. But snow starts to fall. So is this fall or winter? And, you know, this is a beautiful scenery. And Dogen described the beauty of the seasons, mixture of fall and winter. But in our tradition, in Soto Zen tradition, we interpret these Dogen Zen poems, not about the beauty of the seasons, but about the expression of Dharma.

[28:04]

And in the case of Bobola's singing in the snow, we interpret this as his expression of his essential teaching of practice and realization or in the enlightenment are one. You know, winter is like our practice and the spring is like awakening. or enlightenment. So within the scenery of the winter, completely like a winter, when the wobbler sings, and it said, spring has already here. That means within our practice, and when we practice, we still have a lot of problems, delusions, or desires, so we have to work. This working is our practice.

[29:06]

But within this wholehearted practice and working, each one of us has different problems, so we need to work. That is our practice. But within this practice, based on our bodhicitta, our awakening mind, then spring is already there. That is how we interpret this poem about the spring. worker poem about fall. That means the scenery is still beautiful scenery in the fall, with many different colors on the trees. But the white snow covered all of those different colors. So we interpret this poem as interpenetration of multiplicity and oneness.

[30:11]

You know, that is same as merging of difference and unity. I think you are familiar with Sandokai, that was a very beautiful poem written by Sekito Kisen Zenji, and we often chant in our tradition, so probably many of you are familiar with it. Difference means each and everything has different quality and force. And so each thing has its own uniqueness. And each person has unique quality. So we are different. I'm not you, you are not me. And I'm from Japan, so I think using Japanese language. And because I became Buddhist, I think using Buddhist, you know, terms and my way of my picture of the world is so-called Japanese Buddhist.

[31:20]

And I talk about Japanese Buddhist from Japanese Buddhist tradition. So I probably I'm different from many of you and you have your own uniqueness. But You know, unity means we are all human beings and we share the same life, not only among human beings, but even the trees in the mountains and each leaves on the trees and each and every birds and flowers and, you know, river or ocean and many living beings. We share the same life. So as living beings, we are one. There's no such separation or discrimination. These two, difference and unity, or multiplicity, or uniqueness of each thing, and the universality of all beings, not only living beings, but everything is interconnected and work as one.

[32:38]

In Zen Buddhism, we always see each and everything from two perspectives, uniqueness and individuality and universality or oneness. And oneness is often called emptiness. And each uniqueness is called a form. And you are familiar, I think you are familiar with the Heart Sutra. Form is emptiness. and emptiness is formed. This interpenetration of both sides, each are different, and yet everything is the same. This kind of strange thing is manifesting itself in this beautiful scenery. The mountains are still beautiful, and each tree has its own uniqueness, so the leaves have its own unique colors.

[33:44]

But all of those unique leaves are covered with snow, oneness. So how can we express this interpenetration of uniqueness and oneness. That is a very important point of our practice. And we are, each one of us, is a kind of intersection of two aspects of beings. You know, we are living only within the network of interdependent origination or more kind of common expression is Indra's net. We are part of the net. Everything is interconnected. So we are unique, but we cannot exist without relation with others.

[34:49]

That means we are supported by all beings. You know, air is not me, but without air I cannot live. And water is not me. But if I cannot drink water, I cannot be as shouhaku. So all those things support us. So this shouhaku or the compounds of air, water, and other things, not only materials, but also the way my mind works, is also a kind of a gift from, in my case, Japanese culture. And to think my unique way, or we can say self-centered way, I have to use Japanese language.

[35:52]

And Japanese language is a gift from Japanese society through education. And so what I think, how I think, is also a gift. And I can create a very ego-centered way, ego-centered idea and view. Still, to create such an ego-centered view, I have to use the gift I received from the society. So, what is this? Is this unique person? whose name is Shohaku, or is it just a collection of all different elements? And we can say both. We cannot negate each side. So what is this? It's really important and interesting koan for all of us. And how do you express?

[36:54]

How do you describe this? is Dogen's question to his monks. How do we express this intersection of uniqueness and a sameness, or difference and unity? So even though this is simply an expression or description of beautiful scenery in the end of the fall, but still, You know, this is a koham. And not only the snow in the autumn leaves, but almost everything we see or almost everything we experience has both qualities. So how we can understand and practice with that condition. by seeing from two sides how I practice and live as me, as shohaku, and how we can live together with all beings without losing either side.

[38:13]

Uniqueness of each person is important. But if we cannot live harmoniously with others, we cannot really live as me. So how we can live? including both sides. It's really not only in Zen, but in any situation or in any culture. I think it's a very important point. So Dogen didn't give any answer. He just asked, how do you express it? That is Zen teaching. You have to find your own answer. Well, it's already 11, so I have to stop talking now. Anyway, at the Sanxinzen community, we produced this book, 500 copies.

[39:20]

Because this is really handmade, it takes a long time and a lot of work. So we have made, I think, about 150 copies now. And we continue to make them. But I think this is not available through Amazon. So I have to introduce to let people know. That's why I talk about this book today. And I brought several copies. Less than 10, about 10 copies. So if you are lucky or if you are interested, you can purchase today. Or it's not possible to buy today, you can order from Sanxin Zen community through the website. That is the message I want to say this morning.

[40:26]

Thank you very much for listening. May we fully enjoy the Dharma.

[41:02]

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