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Greetings from Shohaku Okumura
Dear practitioners and friends:
In February at Kojin-an Zendo during Buddha's Parinirvana sesshin, I talked on the
following poem written by Uchiyama Roshi.
"
Samadhi of the Treasury of the Radiant Light"
Though poor, never poor.
Though sick, never sick.
Though aging, never aging.
Though dying, never dying.
Reality prior to division;
Herein lies unlimited depth.
This is a concluding poem in his collection of seven poems about life-and-death.
I think this poem expresses the essential meaning of Buddha's awakening and entry
into Nirvana.
I gave two lectures on Uchiyama Roshi's collection of lifeand- death poems at Iowa
City Zen Center in March during a weekend sesshin. The sesshin was held on March
13 and 14. Because March 13 was the day Uchiyama Roshi passed away in 1998, I thought
of it as a memorial sesshin for my teacher, and I thought that these poems were suitable
for that occasion. I felt two lectures were not enough, so I gave three talks on
the same poems in Pittsburgh in April, and still I was not satisfied. I gave five
talks at the Southern Dharma Retreat Center during the sesshin I had in April. Finally,
I felt that was enough for now.
As Dogen Zenji said in Shobogenzo Shoji (Life-and- Death), to clarify life
and death is the most vital matter for all Buddhist practitioners. According to his
biography, Shakyamuni Buddha saw an aged person, a sick person, and a dying person
when he walked out of his palace. That experience made him give up the throne and
leave his palace to become a religious practitioner in order to become free from
the suffering caused by life and death (birth, aging, sickness and dying). According
to Buddhist sutras, when he attained enlightenment and became a Buddha (Awakened
One), he was completely released from life-and-death (samsara) and entered Nirvana.
And yet, according to the Parinibbana Sutra, when he was entering Nirvana, he was
aged, sick, and dying in the same way as the people the Buddha saw when he was young.
The Buddha was still subject to aging, sickness, and death, and he died as all human
beings die.
If the Buddha was still subject to aging, sickness, and death when he died, what
were his enlightenment, emancipation, and Nirvana? This is a very important and essential
question in order to understand what the Buddha taught. I think Uchiyama Roshi's
poem reveals a very clear answer to this question through the reference to his own
experience of aging, sickness, and dying. When Uchiyama Roshi wrote the poem, he
was about seventy years old and was very sick. Sometimes we worried that he might
be dying. Being poor, aging, sick, and dying were Uchiyama Roshi's actual reality,
but he found another side of his life that is never poor, never aging, never sick,
and never dying. We need to find that our ordinary life in which we have to be aged,
sick, and dying is at the same time the Buddha's life that is never aging, sick,
and dying.
During the course of many sesshins and much thinking since Uchiyama Roshi's death,
I have started to understand that my vision of Sanshin is not simply "my" vision
anymore. Ultimately speaking, Sanshin is for American people who are inspired to
practice zazen according to Shakyamuni Buddha's, Dogen Zenji's, and Sawaki and Uchiyama
Roshis' teachings and also are inspired to create the most suitable style of zazen
practice in this country for the 21st century.
As I have said before, I have two goals for Sanshin Zen Community at this point.
First, I recommend that the Community work to establish a practice center for a small
number of resident practitioners and visitors and where my family and I might also
make our home. Second, I wish Sanshin to continue to form and strengthen the network
of various Zen groups and individual practitioners interested in Sanshin practice.
In order to actualize this vision, we need to work on making a long-range plan and
conduct associated fundraising.
The growing interest in Sanshin practice motivates practitioners to attend sesshins,
sometimes from great distances. Relationships are beginning to build among Sanshin
practitioners from a variety of regions. The regional focus of the Community is beginning
to emerge in personal relationships. If practitioners are interested, it will be
possible to begin offering activities, like those I envision at a Sanshin practice
center, during scheduled practice events. For now, I look forward to sharing with
you my practice and perspectives and to providing opportunities for practitioners
to learn from, and participate in, my translation work.
As the Community proceeds with acquisition of property for the practice center while
making an effort to strengthen the network of Sanshin Zen Community practitioners
and Zen Centers, I would like to discuss some questions that are important to me
and probably to everyone who joins or supports Sanshin's practice.
Is it possible to work on fundraising without being pulled by the three poisonous
minds (greed, angerhatred, and ignorance)?
Can fundraising be true practice of the Dharma as an expression of the three minds
or sanshin (magnanimous mind, tender or parental mind, and joyful mind)?
In considering these questions, I am reminded that February 15th was Shakyamuni Buddha's
Parinirvana Day. Before the Buddha died, he preached his last teaching, which is
recorded as the Sutra of Last Discourse (Yuikyogyo). In his last teaching,
the Buddha said that his students must follow the eight points of awakening of a
great person (hachidainingaku). Dogen Zenji's last writing before his death
also dealt with these eight points (Shobogenzo Hachidainingaku). The first
two of the eight points are “small desire” (shoyoku) and “knowing
enough” (chisoku). A commentary on the sutra defines “small desire” as
not pursuing the many unnecessary things that one has not yet gained. “Knowing
enough,” means to be satisfied with the things one already has.
When I went to Massachusetts in 1975 with two of my dharma brothers, Uchiyama Roshi
said that we should not advertise our group in an attempt to collect money and gather
people. Rather, we should just sit quietly. I think Uchiyama Roshi's admonition came
from small desire and knowing enough. We should focus on the most essential and genuine
practice without greedy mind.
I have heard from some people who have participated in fundraising activities at
various Zen Centers. They often say that they didn't have time to practice zazen
because fundraising activities used up all the time and energy they had for Dharma.
Let me restate my questions:
Is it possible to work on fundraising for Sanshin practice center with “small
desire” and “knowing enough?”
How can each person ask for, and how can each person make, a donation without three
poisonous minds (greed, anger-hatred, and ignorance), especially greed?
How will individuals avoid ill feelings if other people do not agree with, or cannot
help, Sanshin Zen Community?
For those moments in which our ignorance presents itself, how will individuals prevent
that attitude from clinging to Sanshin as a larger ego?
Certainly, a center and practice established with an attitude of the three poisonous
minds cannot nurture the three minds (magnanimous mind, tender or parental mind,
and joyful mind) in the place and people practicing there. Instead, in a community
that creates samsara because of poisoned practice, people will feel pain and difficulties.
Each individual will need to discover his or her own answers to these questions.
In the Buddhist tradition, we have two methods of fundraising. One is takuhatsu (begging)
and the other is kanjin (asking for donation). When Dogen Zenji founded his first
monastery, Koshoji, in Kyoto, he wrote an appeal for fundraising (kanjin). A copy
of his appeal still remains and some of his talks about establishing a practice place
are recorded in Shobogenzo-Zuimonki. I will write elsewhere about the principle of
takuhatsu, that is, the inner attitude we need to maintain to do takuhatsu appropriately
[please see section in this newsletter entitled “Dharma Inquiry”].
Please consider for yourself how to create a practice center and community of practitioners
without giving rise to the three poisonous minds. Please feel free to provide me
with your ideas at the address below. In the meantime, the Sanshin Board of Directors
and I will continue to discuss regional practice events, which might include activities
suitable for a Sanshin practice center, and how to conduct fundraising. Based on
people's opinions and ideas, the Board will be able to make decisions about realistic
steps to reach the goals I listed for the community at the beginning of this letter.
I would like this letter to promote communication among as many people as possible
that are interested in helping Sanshin.
Thank you very much for your aspiration to work and practice together for the sake
of the Dharma in this country for the next century. I hope all of you are in good
health and that things are going well with you and your families.
A final note: the office of the Soto Zen Education Center will move to Sokoji temple
in San Francisco, probably in July. So, I will move to San Francisco. I am considering
living at the San Francisco Zen Center so that I can walk to Sokoji. I am discussing
this possibility with Blanche Hartman, the abbess of the Zen Center. Moving again?
More and more, I feel that I am homeless. When my job at the Education Center is
done in three and a half years, I wish to settle down at a place where I can stay
and practice with others.
Gassho,
Shohaku Okumura
April 1999
Please send comments or questions to: Shohaku Okumura, Soto Zen Education Center,
Soto Zen Education Center, 123 S. Hewitt St., Los Angeles, CA, 90012; shohaku@aol.com;
fax: (213) 617-0200.
I may relay your comments and questions to the Board of Directors or other practitioners,
unless you indicate a preference otherwise.
Dharma Inquiry
Editor's Note: In the preceding letter, Shohaku Okumura briefly discussed takuhatsu,
or begging. In the following article, Rev. Okumura offers his thoughts about two
chapters from Dogen Zenji's Shobogenzo-Zuimonki, discussing the attitude one should
have with regard to generous offerings. Sensei also shares his own experience of
takuhatsu.
Shobogenzo-Zuimonki 5-6
Dogen instructed: A monk who has left home should never be overjoyed upon receiving
offerings from others. Nor, however, should such an offering be refused. The
late Sojo (Eisai) said, “It goes against the precepts of the Buddha to
rejoice upon receiving offerings. It also goes against the good will of the donor
to be ungrateful.” What we should keep in mind on this point is that the
offerings are not to ourselves, but to the Three Treasures (Buddha, Dharma, and
Sangha). So, in acknowledging thanks, you should say, “The Three Treasures
will surely accept your offerings.”
Commentary on Chapter 5-6
In this section, as in others (e.g., Zuimonki, 2-6), Dogen Zenji uses the
idea of two poles or extremes. On the surface, the poles contradict each other: we
should not be greedy to receive offerings; but we should not reject any offering.
We should accept an offering with gratitude. What is the difference between rejoicing
and showing gratitude? When I was at Pioneer Valley Zendo, I was the treasurer. With
regard to receiving donations, I made this policy: “No donation requested.
No donation refused.” The idea behind my policy came out of Dogen Zenji's teaching
in this section. We should receive all donations for the sake of the Three Treasures
(Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha). It is not “we” who receive the donation.
Rather, the Three Treasures receive them. As part of the Sangha Treasure, we should
use the donation in the best way possible for the sake of the Three Treasures. I
believe this is the way to be free from the three poisonous minds (greed, anger-hatred,
and ignorance) while we are working for the sake of Dharma. Even though this is very
difficult, in our practice of zazen we cultivate this attitude. What is this attitude?
Not being happy to receive a donation (from the network of interdependent origination),
and yet not rejecting any donation. In a sense, our own life, body, and mind are
the donation from the Buddha.
Shobogenzo-Zuimonki 5-21
Dogen instructed: Do not make arrangements in advance for obtaining food and clothing.
Only when you run out of food and have nothing to cook, should you beg for food.
Even planning ahead who to ask for what you need is the same as storing food.
This is evil food gained by improper means. A Zen monk should be like a cloud
with no fixed abode, like flowing water with nothing to rely on. Such is called
a monk. Though possessing nothing except robes and a bowl, if you rely on a patron
or close relative, you and they are both bound to each other, so the food becomes
impure. It is impossible to realize the pure and great dharma of the Buddhas
with a body and mind fed and maintained by impure food. Just as cloth dyed with
indigo becomes indigo-blue, and cloth dyed with kihada (Chinese cork tree) becomes
yellow, a body and mind dyed with food gained by improper means becomes a body
of impure life. Desiring to attain the buddha-dharma with such a body and mind
is like pressing sand to get oil. Just handle everything in accordance with the
Way in each situation. To plan in advance goes entirely against the Way. You
should consider this very carefully.
Commentary on Chapter 5-21
I have been trying to live following this teaching of Dogen Zenji. “Just handle
everything in accordance with the Way in each situation. To plan in advance goes
entirely against the Way.” To live with this attitude is not easy, especially
when you have a family to help support. Before I had a family, this attitude lived
in me almost by nature. I went to Massachusetts with one backpack and returned to
Japan with the same backpack. I accumulated nothing during my 5- year stay at Pioneer
Valley Zendo. After I married and had children, I tried to make a plan to earn a
livelihood for the sake of my family. Almost always, I felt as if I did not have
enough time and energy to give to zazen practice, translation work, my other obligations,
and to my family. I am very bad at making plans. Sometimes, I felt I couldn't work
for the Dharma enough because I had a family. And other times, I felt like I couldn't
have enough income to support my family and enough time to spend with my family because
of my practice. This dilemma has been and, to a degree, continues to be a frustration
for both me and my family. I also feel grateful that we have been able to survive
in this way because of the support from many people and Buddha's compassion.
So, as Dogen taught, I have been trying to do my best to work for the Dharma and
to support my family in each situation at each moment. I appreciate the effort of
some Sanshin practitioners who will help me develop a long-range plan for Sanshin
Zen Community that is in harmony with Dogen's teaching. I really think that establishing
Sanshin's practice with the help of American people is a very precious learning process
for me. I hope this also is a meaningful learning process for Americans.
My Experience of Takuhatsu
What is Takuhatsu?
In India, since the time of Shakyamuni Buddha, monks had to give up all family life,
livelihood and property except for three robes and one bowl (oryoki). Monks went
to nearby towns to beg for food every morning, holding their bowls out to receive
offerings. They ate food once before noon and were prohibited from eating in
the afternoon. For monks, takuhatsu was a part of one's practice to be free from
desire for possessions and to be free from ego. They lived only for the sake
of spiritual release from samsara. For lay people, offering food for monks was
a practice of giving (dana paramita) to accumulate merit. This tradition still
continues in Theravada Buddhist tradition of Southeast Asian countries. In this
tradition there exist two sorts of offerings: lay people offer materials such
as food, clothing, and other things to monasteries or monks; and monks offer
Dharma, spiritual teachings they have studied through their practice. Monks and
laity thereby support each other through the practice of offering.
Unlike ancient India, in China the Emperor, government and people from high society
supported Buddhist monasteries. In the Zen tradition, monks started to grow their
own food by farming. Many Zen masters entered mountains and built their own temple
buildings, clearing and cultivating the land to grow rice and vegetables. Manual
labor became a very important part of their practice. These monasteries had cooks
called tenzos. Monks within the monasteries didn't beg for food. Later in the history
of Zen, big monasteries owned large property and hired lay people as workers. While
Buddhist monks did takuhatsu, it was not the main way they supported their practice.
In Japan in the thirteenth century, as Dogen Zenji said in Zuimonki, takuhatsu was
not considered an important practice. Later, at Zen monasteries, monks did takuhatsu.
Also, traveling monks did takuhatsu. Today, almost all Buddhist temples are supported
by danka (family members). Only at Zen training monasteries is takuhatsu still practiced.
Takuhatsu at Antaiji
Antaiji, where I was ordained by Uchiyama Roshi and practiced for about four years,
was a small, poor temple without any family members (danka). Thus, Antaiji
had no regular income. From the time Uchiyama Roshi began to live at Antaiji
in 1948, he lived on takuhatsu. This situation didn't change until Uchiyama Roshi
retired from Antaiji in 1975. In 1976, Antaiji moved to the countryside near
the Japan Sea. Since then, monks support their practice by farming. They grow
almost everything they eat. They do takuhatsu only when they need cash. While
I practiced at Antaiji, we lived on takuhatsu. We did takuhatsu a few times a
month. People offered money instead of food. We received just enough money to
support our practice. We didn't charge people who came to practice with us during
sesshin or on other occasions. In the flyer of the monthly sesshin, it said, "Please
bring one cup of rice per meal."
For takuhatsu, we wore our kimono and koromo (black robe), straw sandals and a bamboo
hat--the traditional style of dress for monks while travelling. Before leaving the
temple, we chanted Hannya Shingyo (the Heart Sutra) and a short dharani called Shosaimyokichijo-darani.
When we arrived at the street on which we planned to do takuhatsu, the monks bowed
to each other, holding their bowls in front of their faces. We formed a line on one
or both sides of the street depending on the number of monks. We intoned "Hooo." One
person would stand in front of a house or a shop saying, “Hooo,” until
the people gave a donation or expressed rejection by words or gesture. After standing
for a few minutes, if no one was there or people didn't react, we would go to the
next house. When people made a donation, we recited the verse of Dana, "Zaiho
nise kudoku muryo danbaramitsu gusoku enman naishi hokkai byodo riyaku.” (The
virtue of two kinds of offering, offering of material and offering of Dharma, is
boundless. Perfection (paramita) of generosity is completed and benefits all beings
in the whole dharma world.)
When we were rejected or ignored, we just bowed silently and went to the next house
or shop. The amount of a donation would sometimes be as little as one yen (one cent),
but most often was around 50 yen to 100 yen (one dollar). It was rare to receive
more than 1000 yen (ten dollars) from one person. Some people bow with gassho, like
they do to Buddha, when they put their donation into our oryoki (begging bowl). Some
people looked down upon us and put money in our bowls like they would to ordinary
beggars. Some people shouted, “Go away.” Some people rejected our efforts
by saying, “I am sorry but...” Some people just ignored us. Some people
made fun of us. We encountered many different reactions from many different people.
Since we wore big bamboo hats, we didn't see half of the world. Despite a person's
reaction, we needed to keep the same respectful attitude toward all people. We walked
this way for about five to six hours a day.
Our attitude in doing Takuhatsu
When we first began takuhatsu, we were taught several principles. The most important
principle of takuhatsu is to keep the same respectful attitude toward all people.
We would not skip any single house or shop on the street. Whether rich or poor,
kind or not kind, we would not treat anyone with preference or discrimination.
We would not change our attitude toward people based upon the amount of their
donations or the way that they reacted to us. We would not disturb people working
at a shop, people shopping or people walking on the street.
Takuhatsu by myself
While I was at Antaiji, I did takuhatsu with other monks. Such takuhatsu was not
difficult. In these circumstances, I liked takuhatsu. After I went back to Japan
from Pioneer Valley Zendo in Massachusetts, I lived by myself at a small temple
as a caretaker. I lived on takuhatsu. Doing takuhatsu by my self was completely
different from doing takuhatsu with other monks. I often felt like I was just
a meaningless beggar.
A few experiences of takuhatsu
Once I did takuhatsu alone in a market place in Osaka. Osaka and Kyoto (near where
Antaiji was located) are quite different. In Kyoto, because there are many temples
and monasteries, people are familiar with takuhatsu and generally respect monks
doing takuhatsu. But in Osaka, people do not respect monks as much. Osaka has
been a city of merchants from ancient times. Members of my family were merchants
in Osaka for six generations, about three hundred years.
While I was begging in Osaka, one boy about ten years old asked me, “You want
money right?” To me, his question sounded like he had asked if I did takuhatsu,
not for the sake of Dharma, but for the sake of money. I could not give him any answer.
It was a big and difficult koan to me. If I didn't need money, I didn't do takuhatsu.
But, if I wanted to make money, I didn't do takuhatsu either. I knew easier and more
efficient ways to make money. I did takuhatsu to support my life practicing zazen
and working on translation of Zen texts. What the boy said to me was true. I did
takuhatsu for money. But if I really wanted to make money, I wouldn't do takuhatsu
either. Takuhatsu is not an easy way to make money. Not only physically, but also
mentally, it is very difficult. While doing takuhatsu alone, I often felt like I
was a meaningless, valueless person in society. Sometimes I didn't want to go. Sometimes
I felt guilty for living by begging. It was much easier to work for money. I had
many good reasons to quit being a monk. In doing takuhatsu, it became necessary to
be very clear about whether I did things for the sake of Dharma or for my personal
desire.
Once when I was begging in Kobe, a middle aged man riding a bicycle stopped in front
of me and offered me a 1000 yen bill saying, ”My wife died a few days go, this
offering is for her.” We don't talk much during takuhatsu with people, but
in each encounter without words I had a deep and powerful communication. I felt the
virtue of takuhatsu was not only for me but also for the people who made an offering.
And to receive those offerings, I believed I should keep my attitude toward my life
free from selfishness. I had to determine for myself that I would live and practice
for the sake of Dharma, not for myself. To keep this attitude is difficult. Doing
takuhatsu is a hard, and yet wonderful, way to examine my attitude toward my own
way of life.
The Meaning of Takuhatsu
While practicing zazen and studying Dharma in a monastery, one can feel that he or
she is doing something more meaningful than the people working in the marketplace
are. At least, I had such a tendency. When I was a teenager, I didn't want to
live as many Japanese people do. To me, it seemed that Japanese society was one
big moneymaking machine and that people were forced to be a part of the machine.
I couldn't find any meaning to living that way. I wanted to escape from such
a way of life. That was one of the reasons I became a Buddhist monk. Because
of this, I sometimes looked down on people who worked primarily to make money.
I felt that my way of life had a higher meaning than that of the people who were
satisfied with these standards. In doing takuhatsu, I was forced to realize that
those people supported my practice. I could not, and should not, look down on
anyone. Actually, Shakyamuni Buddha taught us to help such people. If I simply
escaped from a busy, noisy, stressful, materialistic society, and despised people
in the society even though those people support my practice, my way of life would
be completely contrary to the Buddha's way.
Between Two Poles
One interesting aspect of takuhatsu as a Buddhist practice is the idea of two poles,
which I commented on above. In the case of takuhatsu, we could not request that
people make offerings. We could not predict how much we would receive. And we
knew we should not do takuhatsu for the sake of money. We should not attach ourselves
to the result. We received only the amount people offered. What we received was
completely dependent upon the people who gave, not upon our efforts. Still, if
we did takuhatsu for a long time in the same area, we could tell how much we
could expect from a certain district. And if we supported our practice by takuhatsu,
we'd have to calculate how much money we needed each month. We would try to get
the amount of money we needed as efficiently as possible or else we wouldn't
have time to practice.
So, there are two almost contradictory principles: one should not calculate and simply
receive what one is given; or, one should calculate and make money as efficiently
as possible. This contradiction is like the contradiction between discrimination
and non-discrimination or between thinking and not thinking. Takuhatsu is a practice,
a koan that each person actually faces in his or her very concrete daily activity.
Conclusion
I am writing to you about Dogen Zenji's attitudes toward kanjin (fund raising
activity) and my experience of takuhatsu in order to offer some information about
the Buddhist ideas of fundraising to American practitioners who are interested in
helping fundraising activities for Sanshin Zen Community. If Sanshin Zen Community
practitioners and friends conduct fundraising, I hope it is done as a Buddhist practice
with a genuine Bodhisattva spirit. This means, as I wrote in my letter to you [ed:
i.e., the letter contained in the Greetings article above], to do fundraising without
defilement of the three poisonous minds and, also, to use this activity as a chance
to nurture the sanshin (magnanimous mind, joyful mind, and tender mind). In order
to do this, each person needs to examine his or her attitude toward practice and
his or her own life.
I hope this information is helpful for everyone. If anyone has comments or questions
on this, please feel free to send them to me. [See contact information at the end
of the preceding section of the newsletter]. In addition, it would be very nice if
we had a chance to initiate an open discussion during a sesshin or another activity
that we share together.
Sesshin without Toys
Many have enjoyed Uchiyama Roshi's expression, “Sesshin without Toys.” This
saying was part of the focus of Shohaku Okumura's lectures during a sesshin in Minneapolis
this past January. In the Lotus Sutra, a parable points out our fascination with
the three poisonous minds, greed, anger-hatred, and ignorance, despite the suffering
brought by them. The parable tells of children so entranced by their toys that they
ignore their father's pleas to leave their burning house. Uchiyama Roshi devised
a sesshin schedule that includes an early morning wake-up and 14 periods of zazen
daily because he believed it was a skillful means to enable bodhi mind, that is,
the Dharma, to replace the causes of suffering or samsara. Unlike other sesshins
held at his temple, Antaji, these monthly sesshins did not include lectures, dokusan,
work periods or chanting.
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