I think many of you know Michael Wenger, but I'm going to introduce him. He's the Dean of Buddhist Studies at the San Francisco Zen Center. And he's recently published a book called Wind Bell. The Wind Bell is a publication periodical of the San Francisco Zen Center. The first copy came out in 1961, I think. And it's a periodical which appeared maybe four times a year, sometimes three times a year, sometimes twice a year, sometimes once a year. depending on how people can get to it. But it's still going. It's the voice, the published, the periodical voice of the San Francisco Densen.

[01:05]

And over the course of many, many years, There's been a lot of talks and teachings published in it, and Suzuki Roshi's teachings, and the Zen Center teachers' teachings, and visiting teachers' teachings, and so forth. And so Michael put together a compendium of wind bell talks, very nicely done. He and I are going to read from the book. And at the end, we have books that people can buy. Me, I only bought one. They can buy another. We'll sign them if you like. Thank you.

[02:18]

Mel is modest. He had a lot to do with this book. Not only are there two lectures of his in it, but most of the Suzuki Roshi talks that are in it were edited by him. Before we start on the book, I kind of wanted to do one thing, because a couple of weeks ago, a friend and Dharma teacher, Philip Tsenshin Whelan, died. And in a way, his connection is he was with a wave of people who, be it poets and writers, who sort of helped pave the way for Zen Center. And we did publish some of his poems in Windmill, but I didn't print it in the Windmill book. So to make up for that, I wanted to read one of his poems today, just as a reminder.

[03:25]

And this poem, I think, was, let's see, when was it written? It was written in the 50s. It's written in 1956. So it goes. Further notice. I can't live in this world, and I refuse to kill myself or let you kill me. The dill plant lives, the airplane, my alarm clock, this ink. I won't go away. I shall be myself, free. a genius, an embarrassment, like the Indian, the buffalo, like Yellowstone National Park. So Philip and all generation, that was their response to the kind of white bread, bland culture of the time.

[04:40]

I wanted to thank him and acknowledge him before we move on to the 60s and the window. The book looks like this. My purpose and what I used to choose the articles in the Wind Bell, I've been editor of the Wind Bell pretty much since 1983 with a short. Laurie Schley also edited it in the early 90s, and then Ed Brown did it for a few years, and then I've been doing it for the last four or five years. And my purpose in picking, which was difficult to pick,

[05:44]

you know, so many issues and so many good things, so many good lectures and articles. But one of my touchstones of picking was to have the variety and differences in voice, subject, and temperament of the wind bell selections, because I believe that the Dharma is everywhere and takes many manifestations. And I've been lecturing recently about the koan of Uman. The world is vast and wide. Why do you put your robe on in the morning when the bell rings? Why do you sit zazen? And I invited Gretel Ehrlich to Tassajara where she gave a talk on this. And she also wrote the introduction to this book. And Gretel told him an Inuit myth from Greenland, which was two young people... Well, first of all, Greenland is virtually flat, so you can see the horizon wherever you go, and there aren't skyscrapers there.

[07:04]

It's mostly ice. And so you can see the horizon in any direction. And they thought that they could visit the whole world because they thought its limits was the horizon. So they traveled and they traveled and they traveled. And finally they came back to their village when they were quite old. Many of the villagers had died and the rest of them hardly remembered who they were. And they turned to each other and said, the world is vaster and wider than we thought. In fact, it's than we can think. And the teachings of Buddhism and Zen are wider than we can think. That's why we write books. Not that the books can encapsulate it, it just can point to a wider world. And So I'd like to read from a lecture that Suzuki Roshi gave.

[08:11]

He gave it in July 1971 and it's called One Particle of Dust and it's on a koan. Fugetsu said to the assembled monks, if one particle of dust is raised, the state will come into being. If no particle of dust is raised, the state will perish. Sekito later, holding up his staff, said, is there anyone among you who will live with him and die with him? And the verse goes, Let the elders knit their brows as they will. For the moment, let the state be established. Where are the wise statesmen, the veteran generals? The cool breeze blows, I nod to myself.

[09:15]

And then I'll just read some selections from his commentary, which is about Well, I'll read his commentary and I'll let you decide what it's about. Big mind in contrast to small mind is not real big mind. Normal is actually the great mind. The reason we have Zen Center is so that we can practice our way and develop our great mind. But if you have the idea of Zen Center too much as an organization, basically there is something wrong. This point should be carefully examined. Mel chose this lecture to be put in the windmill during 1983-84 when we were having a lot of upheaval at Zen Center about what was what. It was an apt choice. Many Zen students come to Zen Center or go to some other Zen Center.

[10:28]

Is there something meaningful or not? If something good happens, at the same time something bad will happen. Most likely, if one good thing happens, 10 or 12 or more than 20 bad things will happen. I see you've experienced this. So we should think when we pick up a speck of dust, whether it is a good or a bad thing to do. But if you don't do anything, nothing will happen. This is also true. What will you do? Will you pick up a speck of dust or not pick up a piece of dust? Or will you leave everything as it is without saying anything? To pick up a speck of dust means to do something like start a monastery or start a Zen group or Zendo somewhere. But he didn't say it's just that way. He said that just to pick up a speck of dust in the great universe or great Buddha land to start a zendo is just to pick up a speck of dust, not a big thing.

[11:29]

It may be just a small thing, but nevertheless, if you don't do it, nothing will happen. The purpose of Buddhism is not to establish Buddhist teaching or Buddhist groups. but to help people to find their own way when they cannot find their own way. So Buddha gives them some warning. If you do not follow the right path, you will be lost. That is the only reason Buddha left his teachings for human beings. So if all sentient beings follow the right path, there is no need to pick up anything. But some Buddhists will make a big mistake. We're used to making big mistakes. They tried to establish something for the sake of Buddhism in its narrow sense. The real purpose of Buddhism is to bring us to the point where we do not need Buddhist teachings or a Zen center even. Without a teacher we can follow our own way.

[12:36]

That is best. That is the goal of Buddhism. The goal of Buddhism is to bring about the real human life where there is no Buddhism. So to develop our human life to the point where there is no need to pick up anything is why we make our effort. It is because we always try to pick up or establish something in its small sense that we get in trouble. If we establish something just to make more trouble it doesn't make sense. So the more important point of our practice is to always try to do something with big mind. When you do something with big mind If there's no need to do it, you will not do it. Only when you have to do it will you do it. A day may come when we no longer need any generals or shoguns or sin masters, but in the meantime

[13:38]

To bring about that kind of peaceful situation for people, we will tentatively make some foundation. We will pick up a speck of dust. That is the actual Genjo koan. It is the most real koan for us. That is what we are doing at Tassajara. We have already picked up something. But some old Zen masters will make a face knowing that we dare to pick up something. So again, it is good to fulfill your responsibilities and help establish Zen Center, but if there's the slightest idea of self in it, you cannot see Buddha's face. We should not be proud of our faculties, of our personality, or our bright, smart mind. When you have good practice, that is also the enemy of Buddhism. You should not pursue the Buddha way for the sake of change or for your own personal interest.

[14:46]

We should not seek for some advantage in our everyday life. Whether people like what you do or not, it is necessary. You should do it. So if you pick up a speck of dust, people may not like it. But if you think it is necessary, you should do it. That is our spirit. You should not do it so that people will admire you or because it will help you lead a successful life in the future. To make the best effort in our everyday life is actually Buddhist practice. Our practice looks very rigid and formal, but the reason we observe such a rigid, formal practice is to acquire absolute freedom. People may say that it might be better not to be involved in such a rigid practice.

[15:51]

It is very difficult to discuss Buddhism with such people. They do not know Genjokon, the koan of our everyday life. They do not know that day after day, moment after moment, we are creating bad karma. I have to accept it. Even in Tassajara we are eating eggs. They are living beings. Each grain is a living being. You are killing them. But you have to eat them knowing they are not dead. We can do it because we choose big mind instead of small mind. We shouldn't mind so much what will happen in the future, but we should be concerned about the moment. Whether you are happy or not is important. If you are following the right path, the quality of your life doesn't differ from the quality of Buddha's life.

[16:57]

Of course, there is some difference in its breadth or in its lastingness or in its maturity, but the quality of practice is the same. As with a fan, whether it is large or small, a fan is a fan, same quality. So our practice may not be so good, but the quality of the practice is the same. When we realize our nature, it can be a big problem. But for someone to say that all you have to do is to follow your own way narrow view of nature, and that is freedom, and then in the same way you will be ignored by the sun or the various stars in space. When we realize our nature it can be a big problem. But for someone to say that all you have to do is to follow your own narrow view of nature, and that is freedom, then in the same way you will be ignored by the sun or the various stars in space.

[18:04]

If you realize that you cannot be ignored by the universe, even though you are small, then you realize who you are. At the same time, you realize that you are alive because you are supported by some truth. Unless you are supported by some truth and follow that truth, you cannot be free. There's a lot of stuff in this lecture, but I'll turn it over to Mel. Well, when we had, a few years ago, a conference on Suzuki Roshi down in the peninsula, I don't know if you may remember that. It was at the Saki Center, and I saw the virtual conference, and I remember her telling me that. And it was quite a nice conference, and a lot of the secretaries and secretaries were there.

[19:15]

I don't know if you remember that. So during the conference, I was asked to give a talk. I don't know whether I was asked to give a talk on Shikantaza or not. Yes, you were. I was. And I gave a talk on Shikantaza. Anderson gave a talk on shikantaza, and both of them are published in his book, Side by Side. Shikantaza is what we call a practice. Sometimes shikantaza is contrasted with koan practice. And sometimes people identify Rinzai style practice with Koan practice, and Soto style practice with Shikantaza. But Shikantaza, you know, is like the basis of all practice. And it's the basis of the Jogyen's Ginjo Koan.

[20:18]

And it's the basis of all Koan practice. So, you know, in Soto then we have our, we don't ignore Koans, practice, but our emphasis is on incho koans, the fundamental koan of our life. And shikantaza is like the heart of incho koan practice. So I'm going to read my talk, which is short, on my view, my understanding of shikantaza. So I remember reading a description of Shikantaza by a contemporary Japanese Zen master. He described Shikantaza as a very special kind of practice in which you sit zazen so hard that sweat pours out of your body. You can sit that way for only about a half an hour because it's so intense.

[21:24]

When I read that, I thought, or ever heard anything about from Suzuki Roshi. I wasn't thinking that such intense zazen is a wrong practice of shikantaza, but it does seem to me that this is elitist shikantaza, or Olympic-style shikantaza, trying to accomplish some great feat. Suzuki Roshi always talked about shikantaza as one's day-to-day, moment-to-moment life of selflessness. One of the main things of Suzuki Roshi was, don't be selfish. At Sokoji, that was the temple on 4th street where we started sitting together. At Sokoji, when we were in the middle of a Sashin, maybe my first or second one, for some reason or another he said, you people don't know how selfish you are. He just said that right in the middle of Sashin.

[22:28]

And I thought, is that the right word? Maybe he means selfless. So that was an adding word for me, too. Because I really understood that the central teaching of Suzuki Roshi was not to be selfish. It's a very simple phrase. It's something that our mother always taught us, right? Not to be selfish. But in Buddhism, we learn to be selfless. Selfish, which has a connotation that is a little more personal, and is one that we don't like so much. It's easier to say, I want to be selfless, than to say selfish. It's emotionally different. So, Suzuki Ueshi's simple day-to-day activities, the way he would sit down and stand up, eat his dinner, walk, put on his sandals,

[23:37]

This was his expression of shikantaza. Everyday activity with no selfishness. Just doing the thing for the thing. That was his shikantaza. We usually say that shikantaza means just sitting. And that's true. Just sitting or just putting on your shoes, too. But this just has a special meaning. It means without going any further or without adding anything extra. When we go about our daily activities, we always have a purpose. If I go to the store, I want to buy something. So I have a purpose. And that purpose motivates me to go to the store. But while going to the store, I'm living my life step by step, moment by moment, increment by increment. It has something to do with going to the store and the motivation to do so, but it's totally separate at the same time. It's just this step, this step. this step, totally living the life of walking within walking.

[24:40]

We're always doing something, making up a story about our life. And making up this story about our life is okay. This is our dream. We've been talking about the dream. Everybody has a dream. We have a dream of going to the store. Every thought is a dream. But the shikantaza, or the just doing, is the selfless activity of just doing within the dream. In other words, we move and then we rest. We move and then we rest. Life is a movement and a rest. But in our practice, we move and rest at the same time. Within our movement is perfect stillness. Stillness and movement are the two aspects of this life. I think about Shikantaza as a state in which our thought and our activity have no gap. When an athlete is skiing in the Olympics and performing an outstanding feat, a body and mind have no gap. Thought and activity are one.

[25:42]

The athlete isn't thinking about something. The thought is the activity, and the activity is the thought. But Shikantaza doesn't require a highly motivated, spectacular event like Olympic skiing. It should be our day-to-day, moment-to-moment activity, the simplest activity. And this is what we recognized in Suzuki Roshi, when we say, this is what he was like, we mean that his shikantaza was right there for all of us to experience. It was not spectacular, yet there was something so wonderful about it. We couldn't put our finger on it. Just putting on his sandals was a simple act of standing up and sitting down. We all do that, but there was something about his putting on sandals that was exactly the same quality as skiing in the Olympics. It had exactly the same quality. Shikantaza is rather undefinable. How do we practice shikantaza? It is the very simple practice of lack of selfishness, of lack of self-centeredness, and of just doing.

[26:46]

As Rick said in his previous lecture, if you put yourself totally into an activity, the universe meets you and confirms you, and there's no gap between you and the universe. That's my understanding. So the world is vast and wide, internally and externally. This next piece is called The Agony of Hate. It's about repentance, compassion, and transformation. We all make mistakes, but what do we do about them? This is by Rachel Carr. My feelings for the Japanese people were sharply divided between hate and love. I had suffered greatly from starvation and cold in Shanghai when the Japanese occupied the city. In the 1950s, when I made my home in Tokyo with my family, I agonized over how to rid myself of this hate.

[27:50]

I began a serious study of the language and various cultural arts. In one of my jaunts through the suburbs of Tokyo, I discovered a little-known temple that became a haven for me. As I approached the garden, I was surprised to see a slender, tall Caucasian in his thirties in Buddhist robes raking the sand with a bamboo broom. I approached the monk and asked him if I could study Zen in the temple. He smiled and said in an American accent that I had come to the right place. Please wait here. I will call Suzuki sensei. It's not our related Suzuki. He will be the newly appointed abbot of this temple. The young abbot said, the only way to find your inner peace is by knowing that others have suffered in similar ways and how they have transcended agonizing barriers.

[29:00]

Perhaps you are wondering what the tall Gaijin, American, you have just met is doing in my temple. He has abandoned his worldly cares and shares the life of serenity and peace with us here. I will tell you how we met. When Tokyo was bombed by American planes during the Second World War, I lost my entire family. I was wandering in a daze among the ruins when the teacher of the temple found me. I have lived with him ever since. Although I loved the teacher, I could not understand how he was able to forgive the enemy who exploded two atomic bombs on innocent Japanese. That was the time when the foreigner came to this temple for instruction in Zazen and was a faithful student for a long time. Whenever I saw him, I was stirred with fury. On the day I was to be installed as the abbot, I was so unsettled inside myself.

[30:10]

Was I really capable of taking over the mantle from the teacher? He was the personification of compassion and forgiveness. I was the one plagued with hate and revenge. On his way to the teacher's chambers, he heard a familiar voice laughing. No, it couldn't be. On entering the chamber, he saw the Westerner sitting awkwardly on his abaton.

[31:19]

His long legs were loosely crossed, and he was chatting amiably with the teacher in a mixture of Japanese and English. The teacher smiled at his arrival, then suddenly excused himself and withdrew from the room. The two young men now left alone faced each other. I am humbled by your presence, he told the Westerner, and I yours, the Westerner. I have heard that your parents and three brothers were killed in the war. I suppose you feel that we Americans killed your family with our bombs. Remember, Japan started the war. The new abbot felt as if a dagger had pierced his heart. He had reasons for bringing us together on this auspicious day. You see, my father was killed by the Japanese policemen in China.

[32:21]

I was a teenager then. My mother died soon after from grief. So the Westerner's parents were killed by the Japanese in China, and the Japanese person's parents were killed by the bombing of the Americans. And one thinks of the Middle East where everyone is killing everyone for good reasons. I don't know if there's such good reasons. I didn't choose to come to your country, the Westerner said. I was sent by my company. The reason I have been coming to the temple for study in Zazen is to rid myself of the hate I harbor for the Japanese. Except for the teacher, I love him. He is like a father to me. The new abbot's heart was racing. That makes us brothers, he thought, suppressing his emotions. After hearing this moving story, I found it incredible for the three of us were caught in the same web of hate.

[33:39]

Eventually, I also came to terms with my agony. I learned to forgive and forget. While living in Japan, I developed a love for that country. So we all have good reasons for our wrong than our own discomfort and hatred. But other people have good reasons, too. And what are we going to do about it? Your turn. about the true dragon.

[34:41]

I don't know if you've all heard that story. But I'll read it. Dogen's entry says, don't practice your way like a blind man trying to find out what an elephant is. A blind man touching an elephant may think an elephant is like a wall or a robe or a plank. The blind man trying to figure out what is an elephant. I think it's a tree. I think it's a snake. So don't be like a blind man touching an elephant. But the real elephant is not any of those. And he says, don't be suspicious of a true dragon. Don't be suspicious of a true dragon like Seiko. In China, there was a man named Seiko.

[35:45]

He loved dragons. All his scrolls were of dragons. He designed his house like a dragon house. And he had many figures of dragons. So a real dragon thought, if I appear in his house, he will be very pleased. So one day, the dragon appeared in his room. And he was very scared. And he scared him and almost threw his sword to chop off his nose. The real dragon said, oh my. And he hurriedly escaped from the room. Don't be like Seiko, Dogen Senji says. Most of us are practicing our way like a blind man, except Seiko. That is why we have to start a practice over and over. If you think you're practicing real zazen, you may think you're practicing real zazen, but it may not be so. Zazen, you have to start the practice of true Zazen again. Over and over we have to start our Zazen because we're always apt to practice Zazen like a blind man, or like Seiko.

[36:54]

Here's another story which was told by Master Nangaku. When Vassa was practicing Zazen, Nangaku, who passed by, asked him, what are you doing? Nangaku was his teacher. What are you doing? As you see, I'm practicing Zazen. Why are you practicing Zazen? I want to attain Buddhahood. And Nagarjuna didn't say anything. But he picked up a tile and he started polishing the tile, rubbing the tile. At this, Vassa started wondering what Nagarjuna was doing and asked him, What are you doing? I'm making a jewel." Baso said, how is it possible to make a tile into a jewel? And Nagarjuna replied, how is it possible to obtain Buddhahood by practicing zazen?

[37:58]

After this story, Nagarjuna asked Baso, when the cart does not go, which do you whip, the cart or the horse? Dogen Zenji says, usually there is no person who hits the cart to make it go. Usually people hit the horse to make it go. But there should be a way to whip the cart. When you practice Zazen, almost all of you know you should whip the horse. And to whip the horse you practice Zazen. You're giving the whip pretty hard to your practice. without knowing how to whip the cart. But you should know there is another way to practice, to whip the cart instead of the horse. Horse is a symbol of mind. The cart means body. It also means the form of zazen, formal practice of zazen. Horse means attainment, spiritual attainment, and cart means physical practice.

[39:06]

Usually, you know, we understand zazen practice as formal practice, or shikantaza is formal practice, and koan practice is more mental practice. But this kind of understanding is not complete. This kind of understanding is the understanding of blind men like Sekito, Seiko. True practice is not formal practice or so-called shikantaza or koan practice. This is like Seiko loves the dragon, carved dragon, not the real one. So each one of us must get on this point. Each one of us practices zazen in his or her own way, with his or her own understanding, and continues to do that kind of practice, thinking this is right practice, through your own understanding. So even though one is sitting here in the zendo,

[40:09]

and involved in your own practice. In other words, carving, carefully carving your own dragon, which is not real. That is what most of the people are doing. Some people may explain what Zazen is in a philosophical way, but some people try to express their Zazen in literature, or painting, or in a scientific way, without knowing that that is their own dragon, not the real one. That is not wrong, it's okay, but we should know that there must be the right way to whip the cart. We should know there is a true dragon which has no form or color, which is called nothingness or emptiness, and which includes koan practice and so-called shikantaza and various Hinayana ways of practice or pre-Buddhist practice. This is the practice transmitted from Buddha to us. But at least, when we do something, there must be that which is supposed to be the true dragon, the real dragon.

[41:15]

In this way we practice zazen. You come and you practice zazen in this zen-do, where there should be the true dragon. But the instant you think, this is the true dragon, that is a mistake. But knowing that, if you come to this zendo, you should practice zazen with people forgetting all about your carving or your painting. You should practice zazen with the people in this zendo, with your friends, completely involved in the atmosphere we have here. Sometimes I allow people who are stuck sticking to an old way to do that, but strictly speaking, those who practice zazen here should be completely involved in the feeling we have in the zendo. And practice our way with people according to my instructions. That is what you should do. Not thinking up your own way. Just let go of your own way of doing things. And practice according to the practice.

[42:20]

Instead of, you know, carving your own dragon, thinking up your own way, having your own reasons, your own excuses. and basing it on certain ideas that you have from learning, or from painting, or from studying. Just let go of all that, okay? Just to, zazen. For the sake of zazen. Shikantaza. But people who do not know what real emptiness is, or the true dragon, may think they are being forced in this way. This is a Sokoji long time ago. Sokoji is a Soto Zen temple. I've been practicing the Rinzai way, but that is not true. We are practicing the way transmitted from Buddha to us. We are Buddha's disciples and we practice Zazen with Buddha and with the ancestors. That's all. So, it goes on and on.

[43:23]

So, he said, when you practice your own personal practice, you have a problem. When you sit, when you just sit being absorbed in the feeling like having a zendo, there's no problem at all. We should make our effort on this point more instead of carving our own dragon. In this way, you have complete freedom from everything, including yourself. To talk about freedom is quite easy, but actually to have it is not so easy. Unless you are able to have freedom from yourself, you will never have freedom from anything. Or if you only have freedom from yourself, you will have freedom from everything. How we attain this freedom is our practice. You should not listen to the various instructions as something forced on you. The instructions will help you only when you are ready to practice Zazen according to the place where you practice, forgetting all about the old way you have, or your old idea of practice that you have been making.

[44:42]

I'm not emphasizing Soto way instead of Rinzai way, but as long as you practice Zazen in this place, you should practice this place's way, or else you will just be involved in your own personal practice. You will be carving your own dragon, always thinking, this is the true dragon. This way of thinking is a silly mistake. You shouldn't create this kind of problem for your practice. As some Zen masters say, our way is like taking a walk, step by step. This is our practice. When you stand on one leg, you know you should forget the other leg. or leftward, you cannot walk. This is how we practice our way, and this is complete freedom. I know it's hard to listen to just reading, but I want to read one more, and then maybe, should we take a few questions?

[45:48]

We're actually sort of over time. We're over time? Okay. We'll finish fairly soon. Okay, so I'll just read the last page. I didn't read the first page, but I'll read the last page. I introduce it by saying, the confrontation between Abbot Sojin Weitzman and Mitsu Zen Lu Hartman took place on January 29th, 1997, on the occasion of Sojin stepping down as Abbot of the San Francisco Zen Center. It is a moment in a 30-year discussion between two practitioners of the way. Dogen once said, life is one continuous mistake. Dear reader, continue on. Mitsu Zen Lu Hartman, one third of my life has been spent in this practice and you were my first teacher. I can still remember your original teaching. One morning I ran into your old house on Dwight Way waving D.T. Suzuki's No Mind and saying, I just have to talk to you about this book.

[46:50]

And you said, I don't have to talk with you about that book, but if you want to go up on the Zendo and sit, that's fine with me." Well, I didn't realize at that time, but that was my first step away from practice based on intellectual understanding. Now it's 27 years later, and not only don't I talk about books anymore, I don't write books anymore, I don't even read them. So I'll tell you something, your advice was a big mistake. So what do you have to say to me now? Now, without a pause, make the best of a bad mistake. So the world is vast and wide, in a book and outside of a book.

[47:54]

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