Author: dorakuan

I started this blog in May 2011 during my visit to Japan, soon after the Great East Japan Earthquake. Coming back six months later, Kyoto and Tokyo appeared to me as they did during all my previous trips. No more “energy saving” posters, none of the millions of cooled vending machines switched off, and the night in Shibuya was illuminated brighter than daylight.

In Asakusa, besides the Sensoji temple, I saw an exhibition from the Fukushima region, with kabuki play, a soba noodle maker, lots of tourist advertisement and regional farming products and sake freely distributed and happily taken away by the visitors. The slogan of the event was “Fukushima Happy Design”.

I do so much appreciate the strength of the Japanese people not to bother others publicly with private troubles and emotions … but in the face of a disaster which has its causes, people and institutions responsible for it, and the possibility to re-occur, I felt so sad amongst the Fukushima locals, who see no other way than trying hard to keep on going as if nothing happened.

“Fukushima has been a place to bring you happiness. It’s not changed until now” one can read on the “Fukushima Happy Design” facebook page. I hope a change will come, for Fukushima and for the world. Let’s work together, that it will become more than just a happy new design …

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P.S.: I have been asked about “Zen and politics”, if it would not be better for Zen-people to stay away from these topics, sit on the pillow and have no opinion on politics. Zen is politics, Zen is revolution. Human beings with a free and independent mind, taking responsibility for each other, not drawing artificial boarders between “me” and “them”, “me” and “the nature” or “me” and “the rest of the world”, this is Zen.

In the park of the Summer Palace in Beijing I witnessed and old man writing beautiful calligraphy with a sponge-like brush on the floor. He seemed not to be the slightest bit irritated by the noisy people around him, and when we asked him later, he told us that he was just spending some time while waiting for a friend.

The old man beautifully wrote an ancient poem, a citation of Mao and the words “Spreading Buddha’s Light in all World”.

I once read that calligraphers will experience enlightenment after many many years of practise, even when they never practise any Zen. This old man seemed to have integrated in his writing all his and his ancestors past experiences.

“During culture revolution, you’d be in jail for talking to that foreigner”, the calligrapher’s friend said, while we had some good fun writing with the water brush for each other.

After surviving such horrible past, how could this old man preserve his open heart, joking with me all the time while practising our art?

He has been exercising for almost 30 years, we learned. Doing calligraphy, I am convinced, can help one to develop more than just a beautiful handwriting …

The workshop was located in the Guwenhua Jie tourist street in Tianjin, surrounded by souvenir shops. I did not really believe from the very beginning that we should have our seals carved here, and when a young guy, looking more like a biker or rock musician, presented himself as the artist I suggested to leave. A second look at the artwork displayed in the shelves supported my initial doubts, tacky manga creatures obviously made for customers in their late teens seemed to be the main business.

While we talked a bit, I discovered the Hannya Shingyo, printed with beautifully carved seals hanging on the wall. And another version on the opposite wall. “The one was an assignment from the Shaolin Temple, carved in expensive stones”, the young seal maker explained, “the other one for a poor Buddhist temple, where I had to cut a large seal-stone into slices to save money”.

We started discussing the design and proper choice of characters for the seals I had in mind, and soon it was clear that we not only had discovered a sincere Buddhist, but also a true master of his art. After an hour or so of interesting conversation we reached agreement, and shortly after the seals where made. While carving, he explained to us that his waiting list for custom-made seals currently is a few months, but since he enjoys exchange with sincere people appreciating his art, and we came from so far, he makes an exception for us.

The real master is often hidden and easy to miss, I thought when leaving, though nowadays it might not always be a cloudy mountain hermitage where he lives.

As a young Aikido teacher, I always had a hard time to explain to whom and why we bow at the beginning and end of each class. My students got the message, that it is not the picture of Morihei Ueshiba hanging in the kamiza we are bowing to, neither anything else considered as sacred. Instead, we bow to all our seniors, ancestors and teachers. Since teacher and students bow together in the same direction, I explained, we all become students, respecting those countless before us, who kindly handed down their skills and art to us.

Today, I saw at a very old temple in Beijing a believer kneeling down and bowing in front of a closed building. I wondered to what he his bowing, so after he was gone, I peeked through a gap in the door. Inside the room there was a pile of rubbish and old furniture, nothing else.

Not caring if it is garbage or the famous lying Buddha (supposed to be inside the building) we bow to, this might be real Zen, I thought.

Before going to China, I wrote a calligraphy with the Characters of “willow” and “wind”, yanagi ni kaze (柳に風). The person to whom I gave it, I explained the meaning is “a willow survives the strongest wind and heaviest snow, because it bends under the load and comes back up straight after the troubles are gone”.

In Beijing I was astonished and happy to see very vital Buddhist temples with monks practising and lay people joining a Sutra chanting ceremony. It seems, the barbaric years of the culture revolution could not eradicate this part of China’s rich cultural heritage.

But I was mistaken in my naive assumption that finding a Zen temple is as easy in China’s capital as it is in Kyoto. The nearest one, I was told, is hours by train and bus. Could that be true? So I had to give up my idea to practise Zazen in a Chinese temple for this time.

Though, if I ever come back to Beijing, I wish for a chance to bring some Zen back to its roots.

For the first time I am going to visit China. While writing, I regret that posting will be delayed, since blogspot.com is blocked by the Great Chinese Firewall, and I don’t want to bring my kind hosts in trouble by tunnelling data to websites considered as illegal here.

I am not so much concerned by censorship, which can always be bypassed, but by the fact how much power the Chinese government believes words can have.

In Zen, we do not give much about words, it is more our actions or non-actions that speak.

Practising Zen might not be able to synchronise a large number of people quick and efficiently, for example to launch a revolution against the political regime. But I believe it is more persistent and much stronger than any political regime can dream of, and not easily affected by any censorship.

As a kid, I hated eating rice. My childhood rice-related memories are all about something dry and completely tasteless, usually served together with some meat. I was only able to swallow the rice with sufficient butter melted on top, or mixed into the gravy.

While washing the rice for tonight’s dinner, I thought what a long way it was for me from “Uncle Ben’s parboiled rice” to the “Yume Nishiki” Japanese grain I usually eat these days.

Aside from taste and texture, the process of preparation is so very different: instead of throwing pre-packed little plastic bags into the boiling water, I thoroughly wash my rice several times by hand. Then, I put it in a colander for 20 minutes, and afterwards soak it in water for a few hours before eventually boiling it. I take care not to loose a single grain during the process. Often I cook it together with kombu, or further process it to some sushi rice by adding vinegar, or form it into onigiri rice balls.

This way, by washing it slowly and carefully, a bowl of rice becomes something special, a delicious, precious meal full of taste and flavour!

It is getting cold, a few days ago I saw the first hoarfrost sparkling in the early morning light. Also inside my house and Dojo it is a bit chilly now.

Here in Germany, we spend a big amount of energy and money to heat our complete flats and houses up to comfortable 20 degrees in winter time. And during the past decade or so, technology was developed to isolate walls, roof and windows, reduce ventilation, ideally achieving a high-tech zero energy house. My 300 years old mill is quite the opposite. It’s simply cold inside, when it is cold outside, and heating up the whole place is far too expensive, not talking about the waste of energy.

During my winter-stays in Japan I learnt about another low-energy housing idea: instead of isolating and heating the whole house, just heat up the place where you sit: a table, covered by a warm quilt, and a low energy heating device underneath, a simple and cheap solution. The upper body and head stay fresh in the cool air, while legs and belly are comfortably warm … and it requires just about as little energy as boiling some water for tea. In Japan, this is called kotatsu, still common and much appreciated as the families’ gathering place, even nowadays and in rather new houses.

I like the simplicity of the idea!

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P.S.: “And what during Zazen?” I have been asked. Well, it is always above zero in my Dojo, opposite to some Japanese temples during winter Rohatsu Sesshin. Also, Zazen helps to produce lots of heat … and no worry, for seminars I switch on central heating!

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P.P.S.: I usually don’t think it is necessary to stick a “Warning! Don’t …” – label to each and every idea. Since more than one of my readers were concerned about risk of fire: in Japan, electric kotatsu are ready-to-buy and safe units. Any DIY solution has to be planned with necessary care against over-heating, of course. Also lighting incense bares the risk of setting fire in the Dojo …

The leaves of the small maple tree in my Dojo’s garden changed colour into a beautiful dark red during the last week.

Around this time, in Japan the moon viewing festival tsukimi (月見) is celebrated. It is believed that mid-autumn is the best season to enjoy the view of the full moon, chushu no meigetsu (中秋の名月).

It is a nice co-incidence, that the four seasons so cherished in Japan do pass about the same time here. So, if we like, we can share some Japanese seasonal customs in addition to (or instead of) our own.

To know that the moon is always perfectly full and round, 365 days a year regardless of date and season, is maybe more related to physics than Zen. Though the experience that things might be different from their temporary appearance, and not being fooled by this, is essential for both, Zen and science …