Good afternoon, everybody. As I said this morning, this time we are going to read Ryokan's poem in the section of Strolling Without a Care in this book, Great Full, from page 192. to 201. I'm not sure how many poems I can talk in one and a half hour, but I'm going to read and talk a few of them. Does everyone have their hand up? There are more right there. First I read the second poem on page 193.

[01:14]

Let me read the poem. The second poem is on page 193. The weather at last is turning mild, swinging my staff. I set off for a spring outing. Streams bubble in the valleys and gorges. Mountains and forests ring with the trilling of birds. I may go walking with a monk, stop at a friend's and rest a while. There's nothing like this life of mine. A boat that slipped its moorings, boggling on the waves. In the first line, he says, the weather at last is turning mild.

[02:53]

So this is around the same time of the year with the poem I read this morning, that is, in the spring. Then, it's getting warm, and the mountains turn to green, and flowers start to bloom, and birds start to sing. Again, he said, swinging my staff, I set off for a spring outing. Again, he went out of his advantage. It's a spring outing, so it seems he didn't go out for taku-hatsu this time. He was just walking in the mountains to have a good time.

[03:57]

And he said, I set off for a spring outing. Before that, swinging my staff. So he holds his staff and goes out. I'd like to talk a little bit about this staff. In another poem, he said, this staff He did pilgrimage all over Japan, and after he settled down in a small hermitage in Echigo, his practice was walking, doing begging or takuatsu. So, he was always walking. So, this stuff is really important.

[05:02]

And also, This particular stuff is very important for him. This is the stuff given from his teacher when he received Dharma transmission. Originally, it says shakru. Shakru is stuff with the readings. That is shakru or shakujo. If you have this book on page 47, his teacher's poem, His teacher gave transmission to Ryokan and gave this stuff to him.

[06:03]

It's translated, so it only reads the poem, Ryokan's teacher's poem, about that stuff. First he said, Ryokan. How nice to be like a fool. His personal dharma name is Ryokan, and another first part of his dharma name is Daigu. Daigu is a great fool. So, this great fool is the first part of his dharma name. Anyway, let me read his teacher's poem first. Ryokan hungers to be like a fool.

[07:04]

So his teacher called him a fool, or a great fool. For them, one's way is grand beyond measure. Free and easy, so free and easy already came here. free and easy, letting things take their course. Who can fathom it? I therefore entrust to you this stuff of wild wisteria. Whenever you lean it against a wall, Let it bring the peace of a noon-day nap. Let me read it again.

[08:06]

Ryokan. How nice to be like a fool. For then, one's way is grand beyond measure. free and easy, letting things take their course. Who can follow it? I therefore entrust to you this staff of wild wisteria. Whenever you lean it against a wall, let it bring the peace of a moonday nap. So that means if he doesn't use that stuff for walking around in the world, take a nap. So, this stuff is really important for Ryokan. He kept this stuff, and also he kept this poem by his teacher for the rest of his life.

[09:12]

So, even though, you know, as I said this morning, he escaped from the Buddhist institutions. After his teacher, Kokusen, passed away, he left the monastery, and he never went back to the monastery, and he never lived in any monastery or temples that belonged to Soto school, even though he He completed training as a Sotozen priest or monk and received a transmission. So, if he wanted, he could be a temple priest or a abbot of a monastery. But somehow, that was not what he wanted. So, he just left and walked around all over Japan. and went back to his hometown and started to live in a very small hermitage in a mountain.

[10:21]

So, he left his home, that means his family, and also he left his temple, or his teacher's monastery. And yet, as I said this morning, he didn't really he cut off the connection with his family and people in the town. He didn't cut off the relation or connection with his teacher and with his teaching, and teacher's teaching, and also practice. So, even though he was a hermit living in the mountains by himself, he never lived with other people. He was living in a hamlet by himself and supported his life with begging, or takuhatsu, and playing with kids, and writing poems, and making calligraphies.

[11:40]

That was his practice. He is still holding his teacher's staff. That is a symbol of his teacher's dharma. So, he is walking with this staff. Swinging my staff, I set off for spring outing. Streams burble in the valley and gorge. This is a scenery of spring outing. Mountains and forests ring while the trilling of birds. I may go walking with a monk on the way he might get together with a monk.

[12:46]

So, when he meet with a monk, he walk with a monk. And stop after friends So, when he came across someone's house he knows, he stopped by at the house and just took a rest. That means he has no choice. Whenever, wherever he meets, he gets along and walks for a while. say goodbye and stop by someone else's house and have a good time. And it is said sometimes he stayed at someone's house for a while, but the people in that house, while Ryokan was staying, said somehow

[13:53]

As long as Ryokan was there, the entire house, all family members, were in peace. Very peaceful and joyful. So, somehow, Ryokan's presence influenced the entire family. So, he was that kind of person. He didn't work for the society as a part of the job, but he had something to offer. Peacefulness. And also, when he prayed with children, that was also his offering to the children. You know, I have some experience But my begging was mainly on the busy market street in the city.

[14:56]

And I never played with children. Because when I did takuhatsu, children were not on the street. They were at school or kindergarten. But at the time of Ryokan, there was no such thing. So, when Ryokan was playing with kids, What is the word? Like a babysitter. You know, their parents, farmers, had to work in the field all day. So, no one took care of the children. So, children had to, you know, play together. So, ryokan was kind of a toy for those kids. And really he was like a toy. You know, kids had a good time with this almost like a foolish monk.

[15:59]

And the monk never scolded them, but just played as a kid. And sometimes, you know, in the spring, they played on the field, collecting violets and dandelions. And sometimes he wrote a poem about, you know, that was on his way home after doing tako-hatsu, but the ball was again empty, because he stopped doing and practicing, no, playing with kids. And he left, he forgot his empty ball to take. So, the empty ball was by the roadside. So, the next day, he found that he lost his begging ball.

[17:00]

So, he returned to the place where he prayed with the kids and he found the empty ball there. So, he was really happy. No one is taken. That meant this because this is no value for other people. So, that was his way of life and his personality. And, you know, offering peace and joy and a good time was, you know, like a big tree, a big useless tree. even though Ryokan was useless, and yet he had a really precious thing to offer to all people. So, I went walking with a monk.

[18:02]

or stop at friends and rest awhile so he didn't really escape from the world, even though he lived separate from the busy, noisy, materialistic society. He was a good friend with all people in the society. There is nothing like this life of mine. So, other people cannot imitate his way of life. And all people are busy, but his life was very peaceful. So, his life is very useless, very useless, but very precious. Finding preciousness, good quality, within something useless.

[19:08]

Useless means there is no way to measure the virtue of the person, or the way of life, or activities. It is a very important part of Dharma, I think. And finally he said, A boat that lifts its moorings, bobbing on the waves. This is a boat that is not tied. So, when the wind blows, the boat is just moving around freely. This is an image of Zen practice. In Alan's bookshelf, I found a book entitled A Drifting Boat. That book is the anthology of Chinese Zen poetry.

[20:11]

So, this A Drifting Boat is not tied, but usually we are tied. with the family, for work, for whatever. And that is important to us, being tied. But it's untied, so it's freely moving around. When the wind blows from the west, it goes this way. a description of how the monks lived without being tied, and not only the way monks lived, but also, for example, Dogen Renji uses this image of drifting boat, or untied boat, as a description about Zen.

[21:24]

In our Zazen, we sit upright posture, and please seal our nose deeply from our abdomen, and we keep our eyes open, don't sleep, and whatever thought coming and going, we just let go. This letting go, or in my teacher, Uchen Muroshi's expression, opening the hand through. or not tired. So, our mind is not under control. Our practice of sitting does not control our mind, but we untie the knot. And so, when we sit, we really just sit. And when we find that we do something else besides sitting,

[22:28]

we return to this sitting. That means, sometimes we find we are interacting with the thought coming within our mind. Then, in that case, a part of our mind, coming and going, becomes the object of this person. And we start a conversation. And sometimes I really don't like this thought. Thought or memory or something I experienced. Then I start to fight against it or I try to eliminate it and try to push it away. Or sometimes I really like this thought and so try to keep it with me. and continue thinking. That is a kind of clinging or grasping.

[23:32]

Then we are tied. Me and my thought become separate into two pieces, and I become subject, and a part of my mind becomes object, and we start to, you know, make interactions. That is how we are tied within our Zazen practice. And letting go of thought or opening the hand of thought is to untie this hooking. Then the mind is just moving. But I am not moved. In our Zazen, we are like a big sky, and the thought coming and going is like a cloud in the sky.

[24:35]

Somehow, clouds appear, and stay for a while, changing the shape, and go away. That is, you know, things constantly happening. coming, stay for a while, changing, and disappear. I have been practicing for many years, and within my experiences, there is no single thought which never disappears. All thoughts somehow come up and disappear. And what we do is just letting go. That means we don't interact with those thoughts. We don't fight against it. We don't push them away, or we don't grasp them, or we don't chase after them. So thoughts are like clouds in the sky. Of course, sometimes we have really beautiful blue sky without any clouds.

[25:41]

That's okay. And if we have such a condition, we can enjoy it. But sooner or later, you know, clouds appear. Sometimes the clouds are very peaceful, white, you know, and joyful, but we just let go. But sometimes, you know, more than half of the sky is covered with the salt or clouds, or even the entire sky can be, you know, covered with clouds. And, sometimes, perhaps, you know, storm, or, you know, lightning, or snowing. But, that is all the condition. And, what we do in our zazen is just let go. That means we are not overwhelmed by those different conditions.

[26:48]

Our practice is to keep sitting upright and letting go. So our practice is not a method to eliminate the clouds coming and going. But our practice is, without controlling the weather, we keep sitting in this upright posture and going through all different kinds of conditions. of our mind. Depending upon the situation of our life, our mind functions in different ways. And our practice is not a method to control our mind, but our practice is just being friendly with whatever is happening in our mind by letting go, by opening the hand. Then, all different kinds of conditions stay for a while and sooner or later disappear and change.

[27:58]

So we have another condition. But the important point is to keep our posture upright and going through any conditions. When we have a beautiful day like we have today, we can just enjoy it. But sometimes our situation might be very difficult, but still the only thing we can do is go straight with this upright posture without being overwhelmed. I think that is the image of a drifting boat. in this poem, a boat that slipped its moorings bobbing on the waves. So, this is not simply, you know, Ryokan left home and left monastery, so he was free from all that kind of bondage.

[29:05]

That is not only what he meant here. that because his mind is untied, therefore it is ungrasped, so it can be really peaceful, and in whatever condition he can be friendly with himself and also other people when we meet with other people. So, this is one of the virtues of, you know, uselessness. Good for nothing. Our practice is, as Thao Kiroi said, our practice is good for nothing. And yes, this good for nothing is really precious. But, it allows us to be peaceful and friendly.

[30:07]

with ourselves and with other people and with other beings in the world. I think that is his writing in this poem. Next I'd like to talk on, let's see, page 196. The above poem on page 196. This is a well-known poem of Ryokan in popular time. I've never bothered about getting ahead, but just going leisurely along. Letting things take their way.

[31:12]

In my bag are three measures of rice. A bundle of firewood set by the horse. Who cares about delusion and enlightenment? Fat youth is there in fame and fortune. In my heart, I listen to the evening rain and stretch my legs without a care in the world." So this is another description of his life in the heart, but I think it's also a description of his mind. I've never bothered about getting ahead. Getting ahead.

[32:16]

The real concept here is to become something, become someone important in the world. Whether it's a businessman, or a scholar, or a Buddhist priest, to become someone important. in the world, and since he was very young, he was not interested in that kind of path of life, in a sense, a kind of social climbing to become a wealthy or famous or powerful person. When I was a teenager, that was in I was born in 1948, so three years after World War II.

[33:20]

So when I was a young child, Japan was very poor. So all Japanese people worked very hard to restore the prosperity before World War II. And when I went to elementary school, the basic message I received from the teachers, or Japanese education, or teachers, and also the entire Japanese society is, you know, this world is getting better. because of the development of science and technology, and after World War II we learned demography from America.

[34:25]

Because of those things, this world, or at least Japanese society, Therefore, we have to work at Chizurin, have to work hard, study more, and make contribution to this development of science and technology. Until I became a teenager, I think that was basic message from Japanese society I received. But in the 60s, the message changed. You know, people started to say, you know, the development of science and technology is the cause of the problems. If you are the same age as me, I think you know what it means.

[35:34]

Until then, we think those are very positive things, and when the science and technology is developed, then all problems will be solved, and this world becomes really like a paradise. That was the kind of illusion I think we were taught when I was a kid. But in the 70s, it became clear that was not true. And especially in Japan, that was the time Japanese economy grew so rapidly. So, all the people were still working very hard. And my parents, teachers' parents, asked us also to work hard, study hard. and went to a good university, received a good education, and have a good job, and work hard, then everything is getting better.

[36:49]

But, by the time I became a high school student, I had a really deep doubt about this way of life. Around that time, in the middle of the 1960s, Japanese people were called economic animals. And that was the time, you know, in Japan, you know, the bullet train, or the Shinkansen, was made, and they built the highway between Tokyo and Osaka. And I lived in a small town between Osaka and Kyoto. named Ibaraki. In that town, you know, the construction of Shinkansen and the highway went on. And to me, that was a destruction of nature and the rice field and the pollution of rivers.

[37:53]

You know, when I was a kid, I became a middle school student, swimming was prohibited because the water is really polluted by the factory that built that river. So, to me, that kind of people called this development. And they destroyed the rice field. and built the factories and the houses. That was since happened when I was a teenager. And to me, at that time, Japanese society, entire Japanese society, looks like a huge money-making machine. And what we did at the school was to, our school was like a factory.

[38:56]

produce that part of that huge machine. And if I studied hard and went to a good university, then I could make money, a lot of money, and I could buy everything I want. And I had a big house and good luxury cars. That kind of life was of what we were expecting. So, when I was a high school student, I had a doubt against this way of life. And that was also a time during the Cold War, and also the Vietnam War. That was a part of the Cold War. And people were afraid of nuclear war. So, to me, you know, what happened in that time looks very negative, and especially I couldn't find any meaning to live in the way I was expected by the Japanese society.

[40:15]

So, I wanted to escape, dropped off from that path. And I tried to find the alternative way of life, but I couldn't. So what I could do is just reading books. And one of the books I read and I loved was Chuang Tzu at that time. So I wanted to escape from this, you know, society. fly high up, like a big bird, but I don't know how I could do it. I only had a desire to drop off from that money-making machine. And another book I encountered was Uchiyama Doshi's book about Zen practice. So, to me, first of all, Zen practice

[41:17]

is escaping from this noisy, busy, materialist society. And that is the main reason I wanted to become Uchen Roshi's disciple. But I didn't know what Zen or what Buddhism is at all. So, first I went to I went to Komazawa University to study Buddhism and Dogen Zen's teachings. When I studied Buddhism and Dogen Zen's teachings, I found the difference between Chuan Tzu and Buddhist teachings. Especially, I wrote about this in the recently published book, Realizing Tenjoku-Wan.

[42:19]

You know, Chan Tzu said, we should be like a big bird, apart from this world. But Dogen Zenji said, even if we are like a pigeon or a skate, we are still, you know, flying in the entire sky. Even we are tiny fish, still we are swimming in this entire vast ocean. So, what he taught was we don't need to go up high in the sky, but we can live this as a kind of being free from this greediness, greedy way of life. to gain this and that. But, at that time, I understood and I appreciated Father Dogen a lot.

[43:24]

In Genjo-kohan, still, my main motivation was escaping. I really wanted to escape from that society. So, even though, also, Uchiagarashi said, our practice, You know, we don't need to escape. And also, we should not escape. As a Bodhisattva, we should live together with all beings. So, he always put emphasis on four vows. Beings are numberless. We vow to save them, save or free them. That means we need to work together with all beings. I understood that. And still, my desire was escaping from the society.

[44:27]

And I was in a very poor monastery, and I had no family members. That means there was no regular income. So, with one or Takahatsu. Even though according to Buddha's or Dogen's or Uchamara's teaching, this is not escaping, but walking together with all people in the society. But to me, this was a really good escape. I really liked it. You know, at Amitājū, the main thing we did was just sitting. We sat five hours every day, except one day a week. I think that was on Monday. And we had a five-day session each month.

[45:30]

And during the session, we just sat. We had no interaction with other people. We really faced on facing the wall and sitting. One kered was 15 minutes, 5-0, 15 minutes. And we sat 14 kered a day, from 4 to 9. It was really intensive practice and it was difficult for me. I was in early twenties. But I really love this. And to me, that practice was escaping from the path I was expecting when I was a student. And I practiced in that way at Antaji for five years. And Uchiyama Roshi retired in 1975, and at that time he sent three

[46:33]

to this country, me and two of my Dharma brothers, and we lived in western Massachusetts and worked to establish a small Zen community called Pioneer Valley Zen Do. We owned about five or six acres of land in the woods, so we had nothing besides trees. And first we cut the trees and built a tiny, like a ryokan's hamtage. We built tiny buildings and three of us lived there together. And the first floor was a kitchen and a study and the second floor was our bedroom and zendo and study room.

[47:50]

So three of us lived really in a small room, maybe smaller than half of this zendo. Three people lived together 24 hours a day. It was kind of a very difficult way of life. But we just worked in the nature, and we sat, I think, four periods a day. And we had a five-day session every month. So, I really loved that way of life. Of course, it was really but we had no connection with that busy, noisy material world. It was really nice, good to me.

[48:53]

I could just focus on sitting and practice. We did nothing but sitting, and we had no TV, no radio. We didn't read newspapers. you know, things, news or information from the rest of the world. Not many people knew where Japanese monks were living there, so we didn't have many visitors. Only a few people came to sit with us. So, I lived there for five years. So, during that five years, I had no information about what happened in the world. So, even now, From 1975 to 1981, I have no memory of things that happened in this world.

[49:54]

The only thing I knew was that something happened in Cambodia, that millions of people were killed. That was the only news I heard. That was all I knew. You know, other things are really not in my world. While I was living there in that way, I really felt I was a drifting boat untied from that world, and I was really happy about that. And during that period, I had my friend, whose name was Arthur Braverman. You may read his book, entitled, Living and Dying in the Zen.

[50:57]

And he also translated Batsui Tokusho. The title was Water and Mud. and also Suzuki Sho-san. Anyway, he lived in New York and often came to Massachusetts to study with us, but we, Arthur and me, started a session in New York. There was a small Zen center near from the Central Park, and the teacher was Japanese, But the teacher had a regular job, so he couldn't have sesshin. So, when Arthur and me asked them if we could have sesshin there, they liked to have sesshin with us. So, they allowed us to use their zendo. So, for a while, I went to New York City.

[52:00]

At that time, we had a part-time job at a tofu factory. In Massachusetts, there was still a big, what is the word, macrobiotic group. So organic food, natural food was very popular already there. So there was a tofu shop. and we had a part-time job. So three of us went to that tofu shop in town, and our job was a janitor cleaning up things. Anyway, by doing that job, I think three of us had about $500 a month. That's all income we had. And more than half of that income was spent for fixing the old car.

[53:13]

And we found, we decided, each one of us received $20 a month. So that was the only money we had. And I spent that $20 to go to New York. And I think the bus ticket cost about $15. So I had $5 extra, not extra actually. have lunch. During the session, they feed me so I didn't need to pay. Anyway, after the session was over, I had lunch and I took a walk. In the afternoon, I took a bus to... went back to Massachusetts. Since I had extra time, I walked toward the south, and I reached the park at the southern end of Manhattan, where I could see the Statue of Liberty.

[54:39]

And I had no money. I already had lunch. I had a bus ticket, but no money. And I didn't have a passport. And I didn't have a driving license. So, I had no money, no ID. And at that time, probably because I saw the Statue of Liberty, I really feel now I am free. And I was really like a drifting boat. And I thought, if I was hit by a car on that street, no one knew me, who I was. And I really liked that feeling. And I felt my escape from that world is completed. That was really kind of a turning point of my practice.

[55:41]

I felt, you know, my escape is done, completely done. So I felt I don't need to escape anymore. And since then, I gradually returned to the world. Not as a part of that money-making machine, but returned to the world with Zazen. Until then, I was really, you know, just escaped. I really hate to be a part of the world. Anyway, I think Ryokan has the same kind of feeling. I never bothered about getting ahead. but just go leisurely along, letting things take their way. This letting things take their way, I think, appeared in his teacher's poem.

[56:47]

was practicing at the monastery with his teacher. That was his way of life. And this, letting things take their way, is a translation of a Chinese expression, leave things to ten-shin. Ten is heaven, and shin is truth. So, Truth of the Heavens. Actually, this was Tenshin. It's part of the Dharma name of Tenshin Andasen. So, this is not... The meaning is OK, letting things take their way, but this... things... The way things take is how the truth of the heaven, that means this entire universe, is evolving, manifesting itself.

[57:52]

So leave everything to this movement of interdependent origination. and he described his life. In my book are three measures of life. Three measures is, I don't know how much, one measure is like more than one liter, I don't know about pound. Anyways, three measure of rice is not such a big amount. That is the amount he could carry in his begging bag. And that means if he has this amount of money, I mean, rice, he could live for a while. That means he has no desire to save, to save anything extra to give for a while.

[59:07]

And a bundle of firewood sits by the hearth. So he had some rice and firewood to cook, and that was enough for him. And the life supported by Takahatsu is the same thing. You know, in Kyoto, in Japan, in Kyoto, we went out to do Takahatsu a few times a month. And we, in Japan today, when we do Takahatsu, we don't receive food, but we receive money. But a few times a month, doing takuhatsu is really enough to support our practice, including sesshi. And we never went to do takuhatsu more than enough. So, we never had saving.

[60:15]

So we had no, how can I say, long-range plan about the future. You know, if we have enough food and firewood for probably a week or a month, that is enough. And we just sitting. So, that was his life. Who cares about delusion and enlightenment? Of course, delusion and enlightenment are the most important things for Buddhist monks, Buddhist practitioners. But he already has no interest in attaining enlightenment and getting So, he didn't care about, you know, practice in order to attain so-called enlightenment.

[61:25]

So, that is the meaning, you know, he left his Buddhist institution. He left that kind of world, that people who attain enlightenment and study Buddhist teaching a lot and have not a lot of knowledge and could give lectures, gave up that kind of religious institutional world. So he was not interested in that kind of life anymore. And, of course, thought use is there in fame and fortune. This fame and fortune, of course, is a concern for the people in the world. But he So he is free from both worldly life to make money or fame, and also he is not concerned about becoming a great Buddhist priest or Zen master.

[62:44]

In my heart, I listen to the evening rain. and stretch my legs without a care in the world. So, when it rains, he cannot walk outside, so he just stays in his hut and just relaxes. And this expression, stretch my legs without a care, it came from one of the In literature, someone said, when I'm hungry, I eat. When I'm tired, I lie down and stretch my legs. So, this is a kind of expression of his enlightenment. His enlightenment is that he did not care about enlightenment and delusion. And actually that is what Dogen said.

[63:50]

Our practice is not to attain some kind of enlightenment, and our practice is not to escape from delusion, but we sit with enlightenment and delusion. So, to gain or to escape is not the matter. I think that is the quality of nature of Dogen Zenji. Just sitting, really just sit without chasing after something or escaping from something. Just be peaceful and stay right now, right here, together with all beings. So, this poem is a kind of a description of his way of life in the small hermitage in the mountains, but also this is a description of his mind.

[64:54]

It's a little like Bozeman's Fifth Rite, Go-I. Yeah, hostum jinni host. Hostum jinni host is like There are no such ranks to go up, but this is it. Right here. We are right here. Well, I'd like to go... It's already 3.40, so I'd like to read one more poem. That is next page, page 197. The other poem, page 197, this is also one of the well-known poems of Ryokan.

[65:58]

Rugs and patches, patches and rugs, rugs and patches, that's my life. My food is whatever I beg by the roadside. My house is completely overrun with wild grass. In autumn, gazing up the moon, I recite poetry all night long. In spring, entranced by the blossoms I wander off and forget to come home. I left the temple, and this is how I've ended up. A broken, dumb, old, new. This is how he called himself. Broken, dumb, old, new.

[67:02]

The first two sentences are about his robe, probably because he didn't buy new robes. So he wore the same robe for many years. So he had to touch many places. and not only the robes, but probably his body also. So, rags and patches and patches and rags. Then, you know, there's some hole, we have to fix it. And when we have some problem in our life, we have to fix it. And our body is getting older and older. Actually, in my life, You know, I have just entered that stage of my life.

[68:12]

After I became 60, now I am 62, you know, my body needs some touches. You know, I had a 5-day Sesshin in June, last June, I had a 5-day Sesshin. But right after the 5-day Sesshin, I had a low back pain. So, I can sit on the floor as now. I hope this is one time thing, hopefully. But, I have arthritis on my knees also. So, you know, those knees and my back and hip is now, you know, points which has been, you know, supporting my sitting. for 40 years. So, I have no way to complain about it.

[69:14]

You know, I have to... I have to really, you know, grateful of all the attention of all the parts of my body. And, when I was younger, you know, I was very... almost foolish and strong, because I was strong and healthy. I thought I could do anything. I think that was part of the problem I have now. Anyway, that means I abused my body when I was young by sitting a lot and also working, you know, physical working, especially while I lived in Massachusetts. I dug a well with hand, with shovel. And my main work was cutting wood trees with a chainsaw and split with an axe.

[70:17]

So, caused by my stupidity and a kind of arrogance of being young and strong. And this is the result, so I have no complaints. Anyway, that was his life also, I think. So, to be a Zen master is not such a great thing, but both body and mind need fixing. And taking care of that part of our life is also a practice. So I feel kind of exciting, you know. I have been sitting for 40 years in this way, and now I cannot sit so much as I did the last 40 years.

[71:24]

So I have to be creative and find a new way of practice. And sitting in the chair, now I'm kind of challenging. In, I think, last February, I tried to sit on the chair during Sesshin. During Sesshin, we sit, you know, fourteen periods a day. Fourteen, fifteen minutes period for five days. I sat one day on chair and I was intimidated. Sitting on the chair is much more difficult than sitting up. on a cushion. So I sat one day and that was enough to me. And I started to sit on the cushion again from February until June. But somehow my body didn't say yes anymore.

[72:29]

So now I'm training myself to sit on the chair. In September, I have another five-day session, so I'm now training myself to sit more than one day on the chair. So, this is a kind of, how can I say, challenging, a bit difficult, but difficult transition. But if I think, you know, the way I practiced last 40 years was the right, correct practice, but if I couldn't, I cannot sit in that way, and if I feel, you know, this is not the right practice, then the only thing I can have is depression. I'm not good anymore. But I don't think that is the right attitude. I have to respect my body.

[73:33]

And this process of being born, living, aging and dying, Dogen Zenji said, this living and dying, life and death, is Buddha's life. So, somehow we have to find a way to practice with this aging body. So, for now, this is my practice of beginner's mind. This is the first time I sit with this condition of body. So, this is something very new and interesting, actually. Until a few years ago, whether full lotus or half lotus, you know, five days is five days, and ten times a year was very natural thing to me. I could do that without any effort, too much effort.

[74:37]

But now, for now, it was like a miracle. I don't understand. I could practice in that way, but this is reality. That condition is already gone. So that is not reality anymore. So I have to find a way to practice with this, you know, patched rug. I think that is what Ryokan is saying. Rugs and patches. Patches and rugs. Rugs and patches. That's my life. This is my life. My food is whatever I take by the roadside. Again, he's talking about food received by doing takuhatsu. Even though I don't do takuhatsu here, because I can't do, but I think basically we are the same.

[75:42]

We receive something offered from the people or society or the nature. without receiving those offerings from this world, we cannot live. So, even though I was not like Ryokan, my life is not like Ryokan, but I think not so different. We can continue to live by the offerings of many people and many things, actually entire world. And my house is completely overrun with wild grass. He was old already and he couldn't work so hard, so he couldn't, you know, pick the weeds and clean his garden or even You know, because his hut was a grass hut, so even on the roof there are weeds.

[76:53]

And probably he couldn't climb to the roof and pick up those roots. So his heritage was also covered with weeds. And, of course, usually we don't like weeds. We love flowers, as Dogen said in Genja Goan. We love flowers and we hate weeds. But somehow we have to live with weeds. So that is the condition of our life. In autumn, gazing at the moon, I recite poetry all night long. making, composing, but also reciting was his, I think, joy. You know, he didn't have TV. He had no way to read, to watch movies.

[77:58]

He has no such entertainment. The only entertainment he had was reading poems and writing poems. and making calligraphies. And he enjoyed that. And in spring, entranced by the blossoms, I wander off and forget to come home. So he knew how to enjoy life, even though his clothing are patched robes and he didn't have many things. but he knew how to enjoy his life. In autumn, he watches the moon and recites the poems. And in the spring, he walks around, sings, and enjoys the flowers. So, even though we don't have so many things to enjoy,

[78:59]

or empowering ourselves, still we can enjoy ourselves without so much possession. I left the temple. That means when his teacher died, he left the temple, and he never returned to the temple life. I left the temple, and this is how I ended up. A broken-down old mule. So, that was the way he described himself and his life, but he's really enjoying the life of a broken-down old mule that is good for nothing. This is, excuse me, this is one of the, how can I say, goal, not a goal, maybe goal is not a good word, not the way I'd like to live.

[80:15]

So, Ryokan is a really good example for me, especially from now on. When I was young, I didn't think I could read like Ryokan. But now, I'm getting closer. Well, it's already 4 o'clock, almost 4 o'clock, so I need to stop here. I'm sorry I couldn't read so many poems. I appreciate your being here and sharing these poems and my talk. I hope I can come again and meet with all of you. Thank you very much. Thank you very much for your hospitality and having me and my wife, Yuko.

[81:20]

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