Author: dorakuan

Maybe I recently read too much about abusive Japanese Zen Masters living in the West, causing severe harm to their (female) students, their Sangha and the development of Zen outside Japan. Maybe I recently read too much about Western Zen adepts pretending to be fully acknowledged Zen Masters (Roshi) in this or that Japanese tradition, and by and by it turns out they never got any of the titles they claimed, leaving behind desperate students who dedicated a lot of life-time (and money) working with and for their fraudulent want-to-be master. One “Zen Master” (who carefully avoids any hint to his lineage on his numerous web-pages) even boasts one Prof.h.c. and two Dr.h.c. titles you can buy here.

Very well I remember when my former teacher once was asked to translate what his owner supposed to be a “Zen Master’s Certificate” … just a monk’s name written, no master’s title. Proud owner will be enlightened to find out … he said with a smile. Though later friends told me, the mistaken master boldly showed off with a gold-brocade robe and his keisaku skills during a following sesshin.

I’m just so much fed up with all this!!

What is Zen? What is our Zen-praxis? Why and how and with whom do we study?

Not being affiliated with any of these “real” but evil Masters, not claiming any nebulous authority but my former teacher’s allowance to teach what I have learned from him, I am increasingly worried to be lumped together with those people. “You are Zen teacher? Well, I heard about these …!” It feels a bit the same as holding a “real” PhD gained after years of hard-working research, in the face of all the c&p thesis coming to light recently. You feel tempted to hide your qualifications, just to avoid being associated with those who boast with what they never mastered.

Said that, more worried I am about potential students. I well remember my time as a searching and clueless beginner. I hoped to find a “real good” teacher, but how to judge? That ranks, titles and coloured robes are the worst indicator for real qualification I did not know, and was just lucky not to get caught in the trap. Actually, I must admit I initially mistrusted all of my teachers, just because they were lacking of what I considered to be the necessary symbols of a Real Master.

My first encounter with the fabulous Hirokazu Kobayashi, my late Aikido teacher, was seeing an old man with slightly messy hair wearing a yellow t-shirt and carrying four plastic bags in his hands entering our changing room to put on dogi and hakama in the middle of his students. Can he really do Aikido? I wondered …

My Zen-teacher I mistook for a tacky monk’s statue somebody put in the Zendo next to the altar. I was not lightly shocked when the statue suddenly smiled upon my close inspection. Does a real Zen Master just look like that? I wondered …

The Shakuhachi sounded awful, and it seemed much too big for that little old man who sometimes seemed to produce more wind than music. It was so different from any Shakuhachi-CDs I loved to listen … Is that real Shakuhachi? I wondered …

Glad I mistook the old man in working-clothes riding his bicycle up to the temple I visited for Zen praxis not for one of the local farmers, since he was the Roshi … a real one by the way, and not at all evil as far as I know. He appears “just normal” … even when playing with a ball in the Zendo.

Though I fear it might not attract sufficient students to survive and pay the rent, I believe being just normal is the best a Zen-teacher can do. How’s your teacher? – Well, nothing special, I guess he is just normal …

Some time ago I wrote about “Abuse and Zen” in this blog, referring to the case of Eido Tai Shimano Roshi, a prominent Zen Master teaching in the U.S. After decades of struggle and allegations of sexual misconduct, the “Zen Studies Society” eventually parted from their former Abbot in December 2010.

Recently I read that Eido Shimano and his wife are suing Zen Studies Society for damages in excess of $2 million USD because of not having received any retirement payment. Furthermore, the couple wishes to regain what is described in the court document as “as significant collection of spiritual and artistic items”. A married Roshi abuses female students and later sues the community which over decades covered up his misconduct for a pension? In addition, the man who is supposed to own nothing more than a bowl and three robes wants to have back his precious art collection …

A single case?

Read here a recent Daily Mail article about Joshu Sasaki Roshi, another Japanese Zen Master teaching in the U.S. since the early 60ies and maybe known as the Zen teacher of Leonard Cohen. Joshu Sasaki “has allegedly groped and sexually harassed women across the U.S. for over 50 years.”. The article states “accusations
have been circulating since the early 70s”, but the Zen community covered up. A New York Times article is quoting victims who confronted the community and Mr Sasaki concerning his misconduct received no support and were driven out. The whole case did not become public until this article was psoted in sweepingzen.com in November 2012.

More than a century ago Japanese Zen started to root in the U.S., though in the light of these severe cases of misconduct of two most prominent Masters and their large communities covering up, what remains? I feel sorry for the victims, the direct ones suffering abuse, and those Zen students who eventually have to realise the true character of their seniors and teachers. I feel sorry for the two old men who destroyed their work of a lifetime, and probably the whole of Rinzai Zen in the U.S.

I strongly believe that in the 21st century in the West we deserve a different, a new way of studying and practising Zen. One, which is not rooted in overcome monastic traditions of a lifelong dependency on old men regardless of their misconduct, but one where we can meet with the true Old Masters of the past on eye level while we sit on our pillows, or whatever we do all day long.

It is up to us now. In the face of all these victims, we deserve a true Zen revolution, at least!

Occasionally I enjoy watching Jidaigeki, Japanese period dramas with a few brave Samurai saving many good ones (usually the poor and hard working) against certain bad ones (typically wealthy and completely irresponsible and ignorant leaders or bandits) by incredible skill and acts of bravery, often while ignoring their superiors’ orders. I feel less guilty watching such nonsense after I recently read the late Ueashiba Morihei, founder of Aikido, also liked Jidaigeki … though I must admit this sounds a bit like Picasso loved painting by numbers.

A few weeks ago the man who saved Tokyo died from esophageal cancer: the engineer Yoshida Masao, who was leading with a handful others the fight against the Fukushima nuclear disaster. His decision to pump seawater for cooling into the run-away reactors most likely stopped the cores from exploding and prevented Tokyo from becoming a deserted no-man’s land … well against the orders of the TEPCO management, who threatened to penalize Yoshida, because they feared the sea-water might corrode the expensive equipment.

How would Yoshida feel about the ongoing disaster with high amounts of radioactive water leaking from the storage tanks due to most careless negligance, if he was still alive? Building water-proof tanks is not rocket-science, but it costs some money. Is it surprising re-used tanks might leak after re-assembling? Let alone the groundwater issue, which two and a half years after the disaster the Japanese government tries to fix with a $500 project (which is roughly 1/3 of TEPCO’s profit in the year before the earthquake). “These actions indicate that you don’t know what you are doing, you do not have a plan and that you are not doing all you can to protect the environment and the people” TEPCO’s external expert Dale Klein, the former head of the US Nuclear Regulatory Commission concluded.

I wonder if, in case Japan early enough decides to invest sufficient money to really resolve the Fukushima radiation catastrophe, future Jidaigeki will tell stories of a brave engineer who saved Tokyo against ruthless managers interested in nothing but their assets.

By the way, “The Sword that Saved Edo” is really not worth watching …

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P.S.: while editing this post, Tokyo won the bid for the 2020 Olympics … so maybe the whole situation is now, in spite of all scientific evidence, quite opposite? Tsunekazu Takeda, president of the Japanese Olympic Committee said, that “not one person in Tokyo has been affected by this issue, Tokyo and Fukushima are almost 250 kilometers apart. We are quite remote from Fukushima” and in the words of Prime Minister Abe “It has never done and will never do any damage to Tokyo. There are no health-related problems until now, and nor will there be in the future.”
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P.P.S.: … just in case one hopes spreading of radioactive material is a local problem, unfortunately it is not: “Tons of cesium-tainted wood chips found near Japan’s biggest lake”. This lake is far from Fukushima, but close to Kyoto. 

Along with the “otaku” scence, google reveals the existence of a slightly more serious group of people discussing how much of a Zen-Master’s wisdom is contained in the puppet called Yoda, acting in parts of the Star Wars series. Very likely Yoda’s most popular quote “Do or do not. There is no try” sounds too convincing in our complicated world (where I can at best “try” to keep my computer running),  and the call was answered by the trademark “Just Do It.”, presumably to hoax us into buying new shoes.

Behind all this, there is the more serious question of what makes a genuine “Master”. Why not follow a puppet, a hermit living high up in the mountains we’ll never have a chance to meet in person, or someone popular whom we only know through books or media?

The Masters I experienced did not allow to be employed for any kind of projection from their (real or want-to-be) students (which includes to be “followed”, sometimes even to be called “Master”). Instead, their interaction helped us students to realise ourselves, not just enjoy our own “my master” fantasies. These Masters acted like setting up a mirror instead of a silver screen in front of a projector: what we see after switching on light is not the film we expected, but the projector itself … most likely a sobering experience.

As most important I experienced the exchange from person to person … just “watching” a Master (or reading their books) is like watching food. It does not help at all if you are hungry … what counts is the interaction with him or her and you. You want to taste, chew, swallow and digest … only looking does not feed an empty stomach. Watching nice films, hearing wise words, admiring from far acts of bravery and mercy … forget it it! You ask and get an answer. You are being asked and have to answer. Verbal or non-verbal, polite or rude … but it is not words and actions of eternal wisdom, what you can expect from interacting with real Masters is what you need (or deserve) right here, right now. So, even if Yoda was the most enlightened Zen-Master ever, watching him on the silver screen can be, at best, entertaining.

Said that … there seems to be a reason why I (and so many others) apparently like Yoda. Looking at this picture, I believe his late creator was quite a character …

When I am in Tokyo I usually do a day-trip to Kamakura and visit the Engaku-ji Temple in Kita-Kamakura. To the Temple compounds belongs a Kyudo (Japanese archery) Dojo, where visitors can observe the students shooting from the veranda facing a Japanese style garden. While the old master, Suhara Koun Osho, was still in good health he sometimes invited me for a coup of tea or to enter the Dojo and watch from the elevated position next to him. I always admire his friendliness and vitality, as well as the excellent performance of his students.

Once I read, I forgot where it was, that the advanced archer does not even loose concentration when the string of the bow ruptures. I have never seen this happen, but I imagine the concentration must be extraordinary to not be startled or even shocked by such an unexpected event.

Yesterday I had the pleasure to see another ever-vital master in action, the 72 years old Chick Corea with band. During the concert suddenly a big bang: the lower string of Christian McBride’s acoustic bass exploded in the middle of a solo. As if nothing had happened he just said “sorry” and played on. “You didn’t need this anyway” Chick Corea commented after the piece was finished, and McBride answered with a smile “no, three is enough…”.

That moment I was sure he’d even continued to play without any bass … true independence doesn’t just come from an intellectual decision to let it go, but from superior skills acquired through years of practice, in a moment of perfect concentration.

The other day I joined a discussion on the web concerning a book called “Zen no Sho, The Calligraphy of Fukushima Keido Roshi”. The Roshi’s brushwork is very inspiring indeed, but unfortunately the processing of the book came along with certain errors, namely the character 「禅」(Zen)  printed upside down on the cover. I vividly remember how upset my former teacher was about “such a carelessly done work in the name of Zen Calligraphy”, alas I never received any response from the editors concerning my letter suggesting some errata.

Often things in Zen surprise us, as if coming from a world upside down. The message sounds like “say good-bye to your concepts of how things should be, weather something is wrong or right … just let it go!”, and the more scholarly type of Zen adept might explain about the wrong dualism of good and bad versus the correct (sic!) non-dualistic approach of Zen.

Sometimes I am asked by puzzled students, if really from a Zen point of view everything is equal, no good or bad, no wrong or right does exist. War, rape and murder are equally good or bad as compassion and peace-work? Criticizing a famouse Roshi of molesting young female students just reflects a not yet developed state of mind, stuck in a dualistic point of view?

The answer can be found in the 般若心経 (Heart Sutra):

無無明亦無無明尽 (むむみょうやくむむみょうじん)
No ignorance and also no extinction of it

So, even the correct non-dualistic view is dualistic, the concept of “no right or wrong” goes far beyond the idea that there is simply no right or wrong … so what is the consequence for our every day life, if we want to consider that Zen point of view?

The simple message is to just take full care of what we are doing in this very moment … what I do right here right now, fully concentrated and to the best of my skills, this is beyond right or wrong, it is just it. Working and living like this, moment by moment, is not only very fulfilling, it also makes it very unlikely that a calligraphy 「禅」 on the cover of a book will be printed upside down. Or that I will be upset or disappointed about the outcome of my calligraphy. That trace of ink, that is just me …

In our Western culture, statues of Buddha and Hotei (the latter usually mixed up with Buddha) became popular decorative items. Posters, garden decoration, candles, bed-sheets, soaps, ash-trays … walking through the city, a look into the window of a cosmetic-, cloths- or book-store might offer a sight of Buddha or Hotei in a more or less creative alienation of it’s traditional setting.

I never really considered this blasphemy. The meaning of a symbol depends on the context, and in most cases the Buddha or Hotei kitsch symbolise in the West a kind of vague “Asian feel-good” … not my coup of tea, but no big problem either. I don’t believe many of us who replace their parents’ garden gnomes by Buddha or Hotei intended to insult Buddhist believers.

Said that, I can understand that someone grown up in a Buddhist culture might feel disturbed. If he happens to be artist and invited to design an object for display in a German city centre, why not comment on the flood of decorative Buddha items with a super-sized lying souvenir Buddha? Maybe the one or other tourist or citizen might realise how this originally religious symbol was transformed in our culture from something “Holy” into something “Made in Dresden“?

That is what happened in the framework of a Munich art project entitled “A space called public”. And following an old tradition, the messenger of the bad news gets punished: the Munich lying Buddha causes a storm of protest and uproar.

Not too much disturbed appear some locals with their typical distinction between “mia” (us) and “Preissn” (Prussian, a Bavarian pars pro toto for the rest of the world):  „Oa Preiß mehr is a scho wurscht“ (Another Prussian more does not matter) I read as the comment by a laid-back Munich aborigine.
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P.S.: The Munich Culture Department is quoted with “a few middle-aged man with Asian spouses” submitted complaints. Well, it wasn’t me … but the comment inspired me for some contribution to the inter-religious dialogue which was triggered by this art installation. Without intending to insult anyone, I call it “a symbol is just a symbol”:

Every day I practice calligraphy, and often I take pictures. Occasionally, I take pictures of calligraphy. The picture below shows part of my face in a calligraphy I photographed at Tenryuji temple in Arashiyama (west of Kyoto) in October 2010. Originally I had the intention to filter away all reflections (including my face) to just show the dynamic brush-strokes … but during post-processing, this very shot ignited the idea in my mind to combine calligraphy and photography in a creative way.

Writing calligraphy and taking pictures feel all the same for me: full
concentration, completed in one breath and the final piece is finished
in my mind before the brush touches the paper or the shutter is pressed.
Yet, lots of uncontrollable parameters result in the uniqueness of each
effort, which at best contribute to it’s beauty and are welcome in any way.

So I thought about various possibilities of merging both. Most obvious would be writing on beautiful solemn photographies of landscape and nature (preferably in black and white), a modern version of Chinese ink paintings with some text. But somehow so far I did not find the idea interesting enough to realise …

Another way could be interweaving calligraphy and photography during post-processing in a most creative way, like this picture by Stefan Eichberg, displaying the calligrapher Kaoru Akagawa in one of her works. Though, simply mixing brush-strokes and pictures, which have not much in common besides both residing on my computers hard-drive, seems too much of an artificial concept.

How can I realise a dialogue between traces of ink and rays of light, beyond all theoretical concepts, on one sheet of paper?

“There is a crack in everything/That’s how the light gets in” (Leonard Cohen, Anthem).

I was so excited when beautifully rendered Japanese fonts in semi-cursive gyosho style became available for the PC. A perfect line of characters on a sheet of paper was no more the question of years of practice and maybe eventually never achievable, but just a few key-strokes away. Alas, it did not take me long until I found this perfect beauty and uniformity pretty boring.

Calligraphers like to point out in that context, that in the cherished “Preface to the Poems Collected from the Orchid Pavilion” (蘭亭集序, Chinese: Lántíngjí Xù) written by Wáng Xīzhī (王羲之) in the year 353, the character 之 appears 20 times, but no two look the same. This variety in style and expression, together with a few roughly corrected mistakes and imperfections, are considered to largely contribute to the beauty of this famous masterpiece.

In the old photography books I inherited from my grandfather I found in many of the prints a kind of softness and “magic glow” I failed to achieve even when employing the most advanced digital post-processing techniques and close-to-perfect modern lenses. This effect remained an unsolved miracle for me until very recently, when I discovered a related remark in a book written by the famous photographer Ansel Adams. The specific atmosphere I cherish so much is produced by the imperfect optical design of old lenses, which makes particularly the bright areas of an image appear soft and glowing, while the dark edges remain sharp and focussed.

As I prefer the brush to my computer when it comes to writing beautifully imperfect calligraphy, I now consider employing a more than hundred years old camera stored away in my father’s cellar for my further photographic work. The modern equipment is maybe too perfect …

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Copyright notice: The picture “Kinder am Brunnen” presented here was scanned from the 1936 edition of “Das Deutsche Lichtbild” (p. 127). The appendix lists “Franz Ulrich” as the photographer. I reproduce it here under the assumption that any copyright expired. In case I am mistaken, please let me kindly know and I put it off the page!

Research projects can be fascinating. They provide funding for scientists all over the world to join forces (and make a living) by discovering something new. I spent a major part of my scientific career contributing to the one or other research project, and therefore carry a generally positive attitude towards such efforts.

Recently, the “Human Brain Project” was launched, with an estimated budget of 1190 million €. The promotion video proudly announces:

The brain project will create a realistic simulation of the brain.
This new tool will be used to understand how the mind works.

I first couldn’t quite trust my ears. The equation mind=brain was overcome already more than a century ago. Reducing “mind” to operations taking place inside the brain alone and aiming to simulate “mind” by a computer model of the brain is for sure a – very expensive – misunderstanding.

“Mind” is something I develop as a human being while interacting with other human beings and the world around me.  Developing “mind” requires a body and a social environment. That is one reason for practising Zazen or Zen-Arts …

Of course I might be wrong, in case they manage to simulate “Empty Mind” 無心 (MUSHIN), “Beginners Mind” 初心 (SHOSHIN) or “Zen Mind” 禅心 (ZENSHIN) towards the end of the Human Brain Project, I promise to become a devoted student of SuperComputer Roshi.

Another research project currently in the news is based on hunting whales, supported by the Japanese government. What is not immediately used for scientific purpose (I guess 99% or so) ends up on the tables of くじら restaurants all over Japan. The United Nations International Court of Justice (ICJ) in The Hague is dealing these days with a proposal to end Japan’s so-called “scientific whaling”.

Though I never tasted whale myself, I have particularly bad memories of the topic thanks to one of my past Japanese language teachers who was a whale meat enthusiast. When we discussed an article in our textbook promoting whale hunting as a Japanese cultural asset which should be respected by other nations, I dared to remark that scientific research and not tradition is the official pretence for whaling. Well, Sensei made me read a long and complicated recipe for “whale burgers” full of unknown Kanji the next lesson, as a reward for my contribution …