Author: dorakuan

When I had to go back to Kyoto after seven days I was really sad. My time at the International Zen-Dojo felt much longer than just one week, and the Tekishinjuku became a bit my home … I will miss K-san and J, our morning coffee on Roshi’s exclusive staircase, and so much more.

Our daily soup (with spoons)

New guests will come and I won’t be there to help cooking. How will the polite Japanese man who arrived the other day and now moved into “my room” in the guesthouse get along with the group of tourists living under the same roof? They do not just not share the same schedule, but also not a single word of the same language? And also I did not even finish sharpening the second cooking knife … o.k., I have to let it go!

What could I learn after all, in such a short time … or was it in the end just some “Zen-tourism” I did?

Today, on the way to the airport, I found a leaflet in my pocket I must have collected two weeks ago at the Engakuji Temple in Kitakamakura. The answer to my question was written on it:

Although the spoon touches the soup every day year after year, it will never know the soup’s taste. But if you just drink one single drop, you will know the taste.

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P.S.: A friend made me aware that the probably eldest source of the “spoon and soup” proverb is the Dhammapada, Chap.5 V.64+65. Not intending to discriminate fools and wise (or count me to the one or other group), I just wanted to say that it’s up to us to make the best out of what we find, and learn from it. Otherwise, however far you might travel, however long you might stay, whomever you might meet, chances are high “that’s a spoon ye’ll sup sorrow with yet …”

I was happy to discover a collection of huge wooden swords (suburito) behind the Temple. So I could do a few suburi or Aikiken (Aikido sword style) every day, and sometimes all of us practised together.

It is a big relief for stiff shoulders and neck to exercise with the wooden sword, and personally I like some Budo spirit at a Zen Dojo. Working with the sword is an excellent Zen-practise for a variety of reasons, therefore I also plan to teach seminars on Zazen, Hitsuzdendo and Aikiken in 2013.

On the last day we were half through with our exercise while it was a bit raining, when suddenly K-san called us across the garden wall “Roshi said we maybe can do Zazen now!” I was a bit shocked, because I did not realise the Roshi was around in the garden. So I feared he might be upset because we practised sword outside on the parking-lot, while inside the Temple he held a memorial service with some local guests who came an hour ago in very formal black suits. When I heard him say “very good” while we passed by to put back the swords, I felt much relieved. He just wanted to make us come inside because of the rain…

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P.S.: Back home, I found this picture on the web, indicating that the Roshi likes practising with a sword himself. To my surprise he is standing in a typical “hanmi” (half body) posture, more common in some branches of Aikiken than any other more traditional schools of sword fighting.

A pity I did not ask him, aside from Omori Sogen’s Jikishinkage-ryu, where did he learn handling the sword apparently the same way I do…?

I have absolutely no talent for languages; achieving my current poor level of Japanese took me ten years of hard work, and I still cannot even read a newspaper. So the good news is that it is possible for everyone to learn one’s teacher’s language to a certain basic extend, and very likely in a much shorter time!

For a student in Zen and Martial Arts, speaking, hearing and especially reading are not so important,  first comes carefully observing your teacher and seniors, trying to understand and imitate what they do and why. Said that, I always thought it is a bit impolite and showing a certain ignorance towards what your teacher might have to tell you, if you do not even try to learn communicating in a language he or she feels comfortable with. If after years of being a Japanese teacher’s favourite student, all you can say his “Hai Roshi, hai …” and “Ossu”, I imagine this uses up a big deal of his infinite generosity and tolerance. And it makes you dependent on the clumsy translations performed by people like me …

This morning after the Sutra Chanting, our Dojo was full with guests, the Roshi gave a long explanation about the background of the breathing exercise he created and just performed with us, the underlying principles and the importance of developing a strong Hara. He talked once more about the unity of human beings and nature, and how important it is to have heart and body act together for being free, for which Zen provides a good background. Also he mentioned that his new temple has beams and doors higher than 1,80, extra for us Westerners … and in the middle of explaining all this, he turned towards me and said “please translate”.  That was a pretty good wakeup-call!

Rice is our essential food, three times a day. If we did not have an electric rice-cooker, one of us would permanently be busy in the kitchen. So, using some modern technology is maybe o.k., the more even this can provide a good lecture.

After a few days working in the kitchen I realised that the removable inner lid of the rice-cooker has not been cleaned for possibly a very long time, so I got rid of lots of brownish-greenish smelly stuff hiding there. Also the ventilation on top did not look and smell too good, carefully speaking, and I decided to clean it the next day.

Never postpone anything to tomorrow!

Last evening J must have set up the cooker for the rice-soup accidentally with the wrong program. After morning-Zazen was finished, we found lots of water was leaking from the cooker, and this water had a really strange colour. The rice was dyed in the same strange colour, we quickly discovered … but the top ventilation I wanted to clean today was now properly washed. “Maybe strange colour, but we don’t care … still can eat rice!” K-san decided. And we had to eat it all up …

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P.S.: I just read about the Tenzo or cook of a Monastery: “Since ancient times this office has been held by realized monks or by senior disciples who have roused the enlightened. Those entrusted with this work but who lack a disciplined mind will only cause and endure hardship despite all their efforts.” Mea culpa …

Sometimes small things make life difficult. Kamemushi for example. I wondered about the awful smell in my room after getting all dead insects out on the first day, and the smell was not completely gone a week later when I left.

As soon as we opened a window or sliding door to the veranda, the Kamemushi came in. Little bugs, who usually play dead, but become awfully stinky when being touched.

Sometimes I saw them wandering around in the Zendo during the Morning Service or Zazen, and K-san told me he accidentally once crashed a Kamemushi which sat on the Mokugyo, the big wooden drum-fish, during Sutra chanting.

It is not always romantic harmony, human beings and nature living closely together, and a Japanese house on countryside can be a good training ground in case you feel a bit uncomfortable with insects crawling around. The impact of small things on your Zen practise should never be underestimated…

I remember I once read a funny story about the young Shunryu Suzuki, when he and his fellow monks buried some spoiled takuan (pickled radish) in the back of the garden, so they don’t have to eat it any more.

It must have been the same kind of takuan we have three times a day with our meals, and as much as I usually love takuan, I am not sure if our specific sample still fulfils all necessary requirements for being called “edible”. I imagine it is just some left-over from the Monks who deserted the International Zen-Dojo in March 2011 … but we have to eat all up!

In a Temple and Zen Dojo there is a special way of taking the meals, called Oryoki (応量器). The details differ from place to place, but basically one has five bowls (called jihatsu 持鉢), of which three to all are used (depending on the meal) together with chopsticks and some wrapping and cleaning cloth. The whole procedure is pretty complicated, consisting of Sutra chanting, a specific way to unpack and later clean and pack the bowls … and also eating itself is formalised and usually very fast!

I had a hard time learning the Oryoki procedure, so I asked T-san where I could buy such bowls in Kyoto to practice back home. He replied that he maybe can ask the Roshi where to find a specialised shop.

The next day the Roshi talked to me about the bowls, and offered to buy them for me in a shop near Myoshinji Temple. I first thought I must have misunderstood his Japanese … just a stranger, a passer by to his Temple and Dojo, not even his student, he offers to go and buy Jihatsu bowls for me ? “Very unusual!” K-san remarked later … I agree, the Roshi really is an unusually kind person.

I feel much embarrassed that I completely messed up the Oryoki procedure again during today’s supper … maybe I should start practising with  just one bowl for the next decade or so…?

The guesthouse of the International Zen-Dojo I stay for these seven days is an old Japanese house surrounded by a beautiful garden. I love it, although at night it is as spooky as you just can imagine, and freezing cold. In daytime it is heaven to sit on the veranda (where I am writing right now) while enjoying the beautiful scene of the garden.

Japanese houses can teach us westerners modesty and awareness for details. Especially if we, like myself, are taller than the typical 1,80 meters height of doors and horizontal beams. The paper sliding doors are easy to destroy, everything is fragile and has to be used with a certain skill and care.

This morning, while waiting in the garden for his guests to wake up, the Roshi talked with me about the benefits of this kind of old Japanese architecture: it makes us human beings live closer to nature than any modern insulated apartment made of concrete and steel. A wood- and paper house surrounded by a garden opens our heart and helps us feel and understand that we are part of nature, not separated beings.

An old friend and student of Roshi, a high ranked martial arts teacher, was announced to arrive with his wife, baby and two students for holiday. I wondered if it might not become challenging to combine a Zen Dojo’s busy schedule with that of a group of tourists, and I was a bit worried about sharing the house with people who go to bed late after pub and get up half a day after the rest of us. But unexpected interference is always a good Zen exercise …

The morning after his guests arrived the Roshi came three or four times to the guesthouse for discussing the sightseeing schedule, though in vein, all of them were still sound asleep.

Since it was our free day, I just did some cleaning inside the house, very silently not to wake up the sleeping ones, so every now and then I had the opportunity to talk a bit with the Roshi. He took me to the neighbour’s house, a cultivator of bonsai trees, and we had some interesting exchange concerning architecture and living in an old Japanese house.

When his visitors finally made it out of their futons around eleven, he asked me to translate. The Roshi did not show any anger, just slight astonishment, and I concluded he really must be a very generous character. Though, he asked all of them to join next morning’s service at 5 am, and I had the impression that his friends did not really trust my translation at first …

At a Zen-Temple or Dojo one is usually quite busy from dusk to dawn. A good chance to go to the supermarket, do ones washing or just relax a bit is the “day off” every two weeks. The schedule is much relaxed, after Morning Service, Zazen and cleaning (all finished around 7:30 am) the meals are free-style, and no other program points.

Stream with bamboo near the Temple

First I was disappointed to hear my seven days at the Zen-Dojo will be interrupted by a day off, but now I am happy! I have time to write a bit, explore the neighbourhood and take a few pictures, eat a relaxed meal with my friends outside on the veranda. And I can enjoy the lovely guesthouse and garden in the sun! 

With all the strict schedule and work, it is really good to sometimes just relax. Too often in my daily life I tend to forget the importance and pleasures of taking a break …