It's a pleasure and an honor. Zen Center in Bloomington, Indiana. So he's another one of these Zen pioneers who is not only caring, not only daring to carry Zen to America, but actually taking it even to the middle of America.

[01:12]

Thank you very much for coming. Thank you very much. Good morning, everyone. I'm really happy to be here again and to share zazen and dharma. This morning, I'd like to talk on Ryokan's poem. Does it work? Okay. I think many of you already know Ryokan. He's pretty famous even in, I mean, outside of Japan. In Japan, he's really famous. Even children knows at least some of his poems and some of his stories.

[02:13]

Because many, you know, children book on Dogen, I mean Ryokan, Ryokan's, you know, stories appeared. So he's really well-known Sotozen priest in Japan and now it's getting more and more well-known in this country also. This morning I'd like to share one of his, maybe a few, of his poems about, he discussed, not discussed, he is saying his poem is not a poem. This is a book on Ryokan's life and some translation of his poems, both in Chinese and Japanese poems, and I think this is one of the best books on Ryokan published in English.

[03:33]

The title of this book is Great Fool. This is his name. I mean, his Buddhist Dharma name is Dai Gu Ryokan. And this Great Fool is a translation of Dai Gu. Dai Gu is great. I mean, Dai is great, and Gu means fool. So he was a great fool. And this is the name given by his teacher. So his teacher recognized him as a great fool. And of course in Buddhism or Zen, fool means beyond discrimination. So his life is really beyond discrimination. And that is something about the quality or nature of his poem.

[04:36]

And that is why I think he says his poem is not a poem. If you have this book, The first section of translation of his poems is entitled as My Poems Aren't Poems. Let me introduce one poem. It says, who says, who says that my poems are poems? My poems aren't poems at all. When you understand that my poems really aren't poems, then we can talk poetry together.

[05:41]

So if you want to talk about poetry with Ryokan, you have to understand that his poem is not a poem. And to me, Ryokan is one of my teachers. I was ordained as a Sotozen priest when I was 22. I was a university student by my teacher, Uchiyama Koshoroshi, and I practiced with him until 75, when he retired from the temple. And when he retired, he sent three of his disciples to this country, and unfortunately I was one of them. So I came to this country when I was 27.

[06:43]

So more than 30 years ago, now I'm 50, no, exactly 50 years ago, I mean 30 years ago, now I'm 57. So that was 75. Three of his disciples, three Japanese priests, lived in the woods in Western Massachusetts, and we had nothing. and we enjoyed a very quiet place with a lot of work. We built our own zendo and we cleaned the land, cut the trees and dug the stumps and really built a zendo from scratch. And I lived there for five years until 81. And because of too much hard work, my body was half broken.

[07:52]

And in my 20s, I thought the more I use this body, the body becomes stronger. And it worked in that way within my 20s. But right after I became 30, it didn't work. So my body became half broken. So I had to go back to Japan. And my teacher encouraged me to work on translation. So I started to work on translation with one of my Dharman brothers. His name is Daitsu Tomuraite, and I think some of you are familiar with his translation book, Refining Your Life. That is Uchiyama Roshi's commentary on Tenzo Kyokun. and I worked on translation with him and one of the work we did is a translation of Opening the Hand of Thought.

[09:04]

I think some of you are familiar with that book also. When I went back to Japan from Massachusetts, the first three years I lived in a small nun temple. The old nun died without successors. So a friend of mine took over the temple, but he had his own temple outside of Kyoto, so he kindly allowed me to stay there as a caretaker. So I had a place to live without paying rent, but I had no income, so I supported my practice. I lived by myself and I sat in the mornings and we had a five-day session every month with Tom and a few other lay people.

[10:15]

So I supported my life with takuhatsu. Takuhatsu is begging. So this afternoon I'm going to talk about Ryokan's poem on takuhatsu. But the main practice of Ryokan was takuhatsu. So he wrote many poems. You know, takuhatsu means begging. We wore this kind of robes and rags and put on the bamboo hat and straw sandals. and walk on the street, usually a marketplace, and holding oryoki, and just walk and stand in front of each shop and just say, ho! I explain what ho means in the afternoon anyway.

[11:22]

While I was practicing takuhatsu, because there are many poems, Ryokan's poems about takuhatsu, so I studied about takuhatsu, what kind of attitude I should, you know, keep. So Ryokan became my teacher for doing takuhatsu. And, you know, of course, Japanese Soto Zen tradition was transmitted from China to Japan by Dogen Zenji. So Dogen Zenji is a founder of Japanese Soto school. He lived in the 13th century. So Sōtōzen tradition has 800 years of history and Sōtō school has 15,000 temples.

[12:27]

You know, Japan is smaller than California and it has 15,000 temples. That means we have more than 20,000 Sōtōzen priests at this moment. and it has 800 years of history. That means thousands of people lived as a Soto Zen priest following Dogen Zen's teaching. And I don't think you know many of those people. Maybe you know Dogen, and Keizan, and a few others, and maybe one of them, Ryokan. You know, not many Japanese Soto Zen priests or monks are not yet introduced. And there are many excellent people there.

[13:27]

And not all of them practice Zen like Dogen. Many of them have their own style of practice. Of course, they lived in temples. but their way of, their style of practice, various. But we, I think, many American people, you know, image Sotozen priest or monk with the image of Dogen Zenji, always sitting and giving lectures and writing difficult, you know, like Shobo Genzo. So when I started to work on translation, I'd like to introduce at least two models of sotos and priests, different from Dogen. And one of them was Ryokan, and another one was Tosui.

[14:35]

I'm not sure if you are familiar with Tosui. Tosui is lived in the 17th century and well I don't have much time about this person. This person was called Tosui the Beggar. I mean he was trained as a Sotozen priest and he became a temple priest supported by feudal lord but somehow he didn't like the temple life supported by the political power. So he was an avatar. of that big temple. And once he had a summer practice period, three-month summer practice period. At the end of the summer practice period, he wrote a poem. I don't really remember the poem, but he said, now this is end of practice period.

[15:44]

Tomorrow you can go anywhere. I'm leaving before you. So he really escaped from that temple and went to Kyoto. Kyoto was the capital of Japan and he lived together with beggars in like a slums and he helped those people in need. And he lived in that way for the rest of his life. Anyway, those ryokan and Tosui are kind of my heroes when I was doing takuhatsu. and I wanted to introduce and translate some of Ryokan's poems and biography of Tosui, but fortunately, or unfortunately, someone else did.

[16:46]

One of the translators of this book is Peter Haskell, and he also translated the biography of Tosui, So if you want to read about his life, the title of the book is Letting Go. I think you can find the book at a bookstore. So if you want, please try to read it. He is really a wonderful person. Well, about Ryokan's poem, that is not a poem. I think there are two reasons he said his poems are not poems. One of the reasons, I think, is he often neglects the rules of Chinese poems. You know, there are certain rules to compose formal Chinese poems, but he often neglects all such poems.

[17:55]

one of his friends write about that point of his poems, that is, let's see, if we have this book, page 26, it says, Ryokan appears not to care if his poems fail to be recognized as such. What is it then he aims to accomplish through his poetry? Ozeki Bunchu, one of his friends, one of Ryokan's literary friends and a local physician, provides a clue. Once someone remarked that the master's Kanshi, Kanshi is a Chinese poems, master's Kanshi contained many technical errors, many technical errors.

[19:07]

The master replied, I mean, Ryokan said, I just say whatever is in my mind. What do I know about technical matters? If there are people schooled in such matters, they can make the correction themselves. So if they want to make correction of his poems, just go, just do. Avast, the fellow slant of Ryokan, underscore this point in the following poem. How pitiful, this is another poem, how pitiful those virtuous fellows moving into the recesses they immerse themselves in composing poetry For ancient style, their models are the poems of Han and Wei.

[20:17]

Han and Wei is an ancient dynasty of China, almost more than 2,000 years ago. And for recent form, the Tang poets are their guide. Tang is about from 7th century to 9th century, so still more than a thousand years ago. But, you know, Japanese poets, you know, follow the model of those ancient Chinese poetry. With gaudy words, their lines are formed and further, adorned by novel and curious phrases. Yet, if they fail to express Fats in their own minds, Fats the youth, no matter how many poems they compose,

[21:19]

So for him, writing poems is expressing something in his mind. So he doesn't care about rules of poetry. I think that is one of the reasons. And another reason is, I think, more kind of, how can I say, deep, and also has something to do with his Zen practice. or awakening. Let me introduce another poem by Ryokan. So this point is about the experience, what we experience, the reality we awaken to, and how we express that experience using words.

[22:36]

And often this point is expressed in Zen as the moon in the sky and a finger to point out the moon. So the finger is words or verbal expression and the moon is the reality itself. And often in then teaching we are cautioned that don't see the finger but see the moon by yourself and any teachings or expressions or poems are one of them is a method or tools to show the moon. So you should not see the finger, but see the moon or reality itself.

[23:41]

But somehow Ryokan is not completely agreed with this teaching. And this, I think, came from Ryokan's understanding of Dogen's teaching. I don't think I have time to talk about Dogen's teaching about reality or experience and verbal expressions. If you are interested in, you know, I and Taigen-san worked on the translation of Ryokan's extensive record, and if you read it, it's a big book, but If you read it, you can find some, you know, Dogen's thought about our actual experience and expression of that experience to share with other people. So expression or using words and concepts

[24:50]

is also important to share the reality with other people. That is a kind of a skillful means in Buddhist tradition. But according to Dogen and Ryokan, their verbal expression is not simply a skillful means. I think that is what he is saying in this poem. This is my translation of one of his poems. The same poem was translated in this book. And if you have this book, Great Fool, their translation is in page 152. but let me read my translation.

[25:52]

This poem has no title, but it says, depending upon a finger, depending upon a finger, we see the moon. So because someone points out the moon, we can see the reality of moon. So it's kind of a helpful thing or a skill means or a tool to let us find the moon. So depending up, let me read the entire poem first. Depending upon a finger, we see the moon. Depending upon the moon, we understand the finger. The moon and the finger are neither same nor different. In order to guide beginners, this analogy is used as an expedient means, as a skillful means.

[27:05]

This analogy of finger, well, let me read the poem. This analogy is used as an expedient means. Once having seen things as they are, there is neither the moon nor the finger. Let me read it again. Depending upon a finger, we see the moon. Depending upon the moon, we understand the finger. The moon and the finger are neither same nor different. In order to guide beginners, this analogy is used as an expedient means, but once having seen things as they are, there is neither the moon nor the finger.

[28:10]

Do you understand the meaning? So the teaching that moon is reality and the finger is just a tool to point out the reality, so you should see the moon, not the finger, is a you know, very common teaching in Zen. So we have, instead of reading, you know, sutras or Buddhist texts, we have to practice and actually experience what is written and taught in the scriptures. That is the meaning of this analogy. We should not see the finger, but we should see the moon. But according to Ryokan, this teaching is just an expedient means. If we really see the moon, we see that finger is a part of the moon.

[29:19]

It's not the matter that moon is reality, but finger is not reality. But finger or words we use, is part, should be part of the reality. So the discrimination or distinction between the reality and the verbal expression of reality is two separate things. And the reality itself is more important and expression of reality using words is less important. So that is one of the most important points when I have to talk about Dogen, of Dogen's teaching. He also says the same thing, and in Dogenzen's teaching, the verbal expression of our

[30:27]

direct experience is really important. And he used the expression, do toku. Do means to say something, to speak something. And Dogen says, if we really experience something, we need to say something. We speak something about that reality. You know, Katagiri Dainin Roshi was the founder of the Minnesota Zen Meditation Center and he died in 1990. Anyway, two of his books are published. The first one is Returning to Silence. That means, and his, Katagi Roshi's most famous, one of the most famous teaching is, shut your mouth and just sit.

[31:31]

This is really returning to silence. Don't think, don't talk, close your mouth and just sit. This shows the importance of experience, actual practice. But the title of his second book is, You Have to Say Something. You Have to Say Something. And that is, you know, these two should be together. Shut your mouth and just sit. And yet, you have to say something. How can you say without opening your mouth? That is one point. And also, when we open our mouth and say something, that speaking, that saying, your words, should be expression of that silence. So how can we express the silence using words?

[32:35]

is another aspect of our practice. How can we speak? How can we express? How can we share that experience with other people? And Dogen's point is, unless you find how to express your experience within silence, Your experience is not genuine. Your insight is not deep enough. So we should keep sitting. But once you have certain insight, you have to put it into words. otherwise your practice is not complete. So in that case, the finger is a really important thing. Finger is not, or verbal expression is not simply an expedient means.

[33:47]

but this is part of the moon. In a sense, how does the moon express itself using our mouth? How can we, ourselves, including our brain, how can this body and mind be a part of the moon and how we can we express it using our words to communicate with other human beings is that I think the point of Ryokan when he said there is neither a finger nor a moon because these are one thing And as a kind of example of such a poem, I'd like to introduce one more poem about his poem that is not a poem.

[34:57]

The first day of summer. I lazily pull on my robes. So he was not in a hurry. You know, we are too busy. Modern people are too busy. But he lived in a hut by himself. No one asked him to wake up. And no schedule for him on that day. So he just wake up and start to think, what I should do today? That's kind of life. So the first day of summer, I lazily pull on my robes by the water's edge. So he just started to walk. Put on clothes and start to walk, take a walk. By the water's edge, willows have turned a deep green. So the colors of the leaves of willow tree getting more and more

[36:09]

but the word thick, dark blue, green. And on the opposite bank, peach and plum blossoms. So he can see the green leaves of willow tree on one side of the river, and he saw the peach and plum blossoms on the other side of the river. These, you know, green leaves and the colours of those peach blossoms are kind of an expression of the reality as it is. It's a very famous expression Scattered in the morning breeze, I ambled along, plucking blades of wild grass and casually knocked at a brushwood gate.

[37:21]

So he arrived at someone's house. Butterflies, butterflies, cabot, in the garden in the south. Turnip flowers choke the bamboo fence in the east, here in an atmosphere of perfect ease. The long summer days stretch endlessly, so remote so remote a spot is naturally striking easily moved by beauty such is my nature i take a few phrases and they just turn into poems so they just turn into poems so poems is not kind of a

[38:32]

at least for him, a man-made thing. But it naturally came out of his experience. He just woke up in the morning and walked along the river and visited his friend's house. And he saw the green leaves and peach blossoms and butterflies. He just, you know, described all that he saw. But just, you know, nothing special. It's really ordinary experience. But somehow, just his very simple, ordinary walking. and just list up what he saw and what he experienced.

[39:34]

Nothing special, but somehow, not by his thinking, but somehow, naturally, those things turn into a poem. I think this kind of poem is simply expression of our, you know, life experiences. And I think we are not like Ryokan. Our experience does not naturally turn into poems. But I think this is an important point, even though we are not a poet. I'm not a poet, but I have many occasions to talk, and unfortunately I have to talk in English. I'm thinking in Japanese, but somehow I have to speak in English.

[40:42]

And I often, you know, when I talk on certain subjects, I try to study thoroughly and make sure my understanding is not so far from, in the case of Ryokan or Dogen, not deviate from what they are discussing. But I try not to write a draft. If I write a draft first in Japanese and translate it into English using dictionaries, I think my talk might be more accurate and logical. But somehow I don't like that kind of... way to express my understanding or my experience. So I try to study the material, but I try not to make any draft.

[41:47]

So I try to speak using active vocabulary of English I have inside of myself. not without using dictionaries. So my talk, I don't have much vocabulary. So my talk, my English talk might be really simple. So I'm afraid, you know, I really, you know, talk what I'm thinking. You know, I can, in Japanese, if I can explain in more details. And I can make any grey zones between black and white. But when I talk in English, I have to say black or white. I cannot express any grey zones.

[42:51]

So sometimes I feel my talk is not deep enough or not well expressed what I'm thinking or what I'm trying to say. But I think this way of talking, just talk from my heart, using only my active vocabulary, Somehow I think it's a better way to express my being instead of my thinking. So I hope you understand and like my talk. Well, it's time to stop. It's five after eleven. Okay, if you have a question, please.

[43:58]

In your Moon and Your Finger poem, in your translation, why did you bring in Venus? Why did I bring what? You mentioned Venus. Okay, I misheard. What? I apologize. I thought I heard a word in your poem. But I did not hear that one. Maybe she misunderstood the translation so she's taking back her question. Okay, okay. Good. Please. The last poem I didn't quite understand because he was talking about the first day of summer and the willow is turning dark green so then he talks about plum and peach blossom on the other side of the creek which is spring, early spring so it doesn't quite fit so it must be a metaphorical

[45:04]

Well, we can interpret it in that way, you know, this side and the other side is in Buddhist literature, means this shore of Samsara and the other shore of Nirvana. So we can interpret it in that way also. But I'd rather, you know, just read as a scenery of the time he walked So, either way, I think it's okay as an interpretation of this poem, of course. Okay? Please. Well, you were talking about Finger and Moon and other things, but I always thought, from some old associations in my mind, that Ryokan also wrote poems about wine and women. Is that true? What? Wine and women? Did he write poems about sort of drinking wine and loving women or am I just having a crazy fantasy?

[46:12]

I think that is not Ryokan but probably Ikkyu. Ikkyu, that's right. Ikkyu is Rinzai Zen Master. Tosui. Tosui. Tosui. His teaching? Well, actually, he never taught. There is no writings by him at all. He is known because one of his dharma relatives

[47:20]

whose name was Menzan Zuiho. He was a very great Sotozen scholar. He found this person's life was very interesting and meaningful. So he collected information about this person's life. and Menzan wrote his biography and Menzan wrote verses about his actions. And that is a translation by Peter Haskell. So there's no verbal expression of his life. He just lived. Oh yeah, when he lived in Vegas, one of his former disciples came, visited him, found him, and asked him to allow him to practice with Tosui.

[48:44]

he rejected but that student wanted to come with him so he walked for a while with his disciple and on their way they find a dead body of a beggar And by the dead body of the beggar, there was a bowl of rice which is almost rotten. And Tosui asked his student, eat this. If you can eat this, you can come with me. and the student tried to eat and only a little, you know, portion of that rotten rice gruel, you know, he had to vomit and Toshi, you know,

[50:00]

took the bowl and ate entirely and said, you know, this is my practice. So you should go and practice with other teacher. That is a story. So that was his practice. So he was very strict about that. So he didn't give any kind of a wise teaching. But that was his teaching. Please. I was thinking about trying to represent something in words that is very difficult to represent in words. And science also tries to do that. Science? Science. Science. Chemistry. Okay, okay. So they have to draw pictures. The picture is like the finger, but it's not really an atom.

[51:05]

And so there are two different ways of representation. But science uses logic and models and concepts, and Zen more often uses artistic representation. And so I wonder if you think there's a kind of a contradiction between science and Zen. I don't think it's a contradiction, it's difference. You can use poem to explain how atom is, I think. But usually, you know, scientist doesn't use that method. But I think they can, if they want. Do you think Zen could use concepts and scientific models? I'm not sure. Maybe it's possible, but it's not so attractive. Yes, people don't want to, you know, logical writings about Zen experience.

[52:13]

I think we're going to have to end if we're going to have a break before the afternoon session. Okay. Okay, thank you very much.

[52:24]

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