遍路録 3
Acceptance
The Prologue
The foundation stone is now in place.
It couldn't be any closer. You and I will never, ever, see it, but it is seen at all times by one and all.
The Main Case
"You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?" "Everything is my family." At first puzzled, slowly Mōsō's eyes opened wider.
"Could it..." he started to ask himself, then stopped.
Rushing back to the rice field he found the old woman still at work on the edge of her field. "What did you mean when you said..." he started...
Cutting him off in mid-sentence, the old woman shot her question at him, "Have you seen the Daishi at Tairyūji?"
Startled into silence, Mōsō replied, "Yes, I saw him."
"Then walk to Byōdōji," the woman replied and turned around to continue working.
Suddenly, Mōsō saw the opening. Bowing almost to the ground as tears of gratitude ran from his eyes, he also turned around, and started walking to Temple 22.
The Capping Verse
Ready for picking
The fruit drops with just a touch
The right time is now
-------
Mōsō (妄想) wanted this so, so badly. Maybe too badly. He was willing to look anywhere for the answers to the questions that Master Chie (知恵) asked him continuously, ever since he had become his disciple many years ago.
There were days where he could almost taste it, as if there was a hint of a flavor on the tip of his tongue, daring him to open his mouth and swallow, but when he looked, he saw nothing new, nothing different.
"STOP!," his master would shout at him. "Stop looking for something new, something different. Stop looking for something! Just open your mouth and swallow." But he wasn't able to do that, and he ached inside from the desire to see.
Then, coming down from Tairyūji, he met the old woman in the rice field and something about the way she looked at him brought that taste to his mouth. She didn't look at him as much as she seemed to look right through him, as if she was seeing something in him that even he didn't see.
"You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?" That's what she had said. Where was his confusion?, he thought. Where? Then he remembered her other words, "Everyone in town is my family. Every henro that passes by is my family. The birds on the mountain you just descended are my family. This rice paddy is my family. What isn't my family?"
"What isn't my family?" "You're a monk, i'm a farmer."
And then that taste grew stronger. It was there, so strong it made his mouth water. He could see that the answer was there and he needed to ask the old woman one more question.
Rushing back to the rice field he found the old woman still at work on the edge of her field. "What did you mean when you said..." he started...
But the woman didn't let him finish, she shot out, straight for his jugular. Cutting him off in mid-sentence, she asked him, "Have you seen the Daishi at Tairyūji?"
Startled, Mōsō's head went silent. Everything just came to a stop. "Yes, I saw him," he replied without even thinking. He wasn't bewildered, just open, completely open. Her sudden question had shut him up and ripped his heart wide open.
Seeing that her first shot had just skinned the surface, she shot a second arrow. Ripping skin wasn't what he needed, he needed a deep flesh wound. "Then walk to Byōdōji." And with that, she had done all she could. She had inflicted the wound, it was now up to the monk to inspect the wound. With that, she went back to work.
And the second shot had, in fact, hit the mark. Mōsō had taken the arrow right in the chest and his legs wobbled. The old woman had shaken him awake, or at least shaken his eyes open. It was only a glimpse, but he had seen. I'm a monk, she's a farmer, what isn't my family. Oh so clear.
And with that, Mōsō did the only thing he could do, the only thing he should do: he turned around and began the walk to Byōdōji.
And there is the million dollar question, what had Mōsō seen? What had become "oh so clear?" He had finally been able to swallow, yet it hadn't been done with his mouth. Or his eyes. Or his ears or nose. It had been done, but not by any particular sense. In fact, nothing had been done... yet something was accomplished.
As a hint, there are two ways to look at the old woman's final, fatal shot, "Then walk to Byōdōji." Walking is our practice on the henro trail. We visit one temple and then move on and walk to the next. After worshiping at Tairyūji the natural and obvious thing to do is to begin walking to Byōdōji. Don't think about it, don't analyze it, don't look forward to it or dread it; just do it, with no further thought. That's our practice as henro. Just walk.
However, "Just walk" is also all there is to the buddhadharma. That's it. Just walk. When you stop at the convenience store to buy your bento for lunch, just buy. Open your can of Aquarius and then just drink. That's it: “Just.” Everything is included, nothing is left out. The entirety of your life is nothing but “just walk.” That is all there is to the Buddha's teachings, visiting Tairyūji, walking, eating, talking, sleeping. That's it. That's everything and nothing, but it's the entire story.
The Journey, like this walk of 1,400 km, is not about finding something, it's about letting go of everything so you can see clearly what you already are. And, to accomplish that requires a new level of acceptance that most people aren't used to. Acceptance of yourself as you are, acceptance of "what is," as it is, and acceptance of the daily routine of “just walking” day in, day out, day after day, with no though of reward or accomplishment. No thought of pain or pleasure, No thought of gain or loss, No though of fame or slander. Just walking.
Nothing happens without acceptance as your first offering. Offer you opinions, beliefs, preconceived notions, ideologies, religion, and politics. Offer everything you ever believed yourself to be, everything you ever believed everything else to be. Offer everything you have and everything you are. Offer your belief in dualities and accept nothing in return. Only then, as Mōsō found out, are you open enough to receive that nothing, which you will do, believe it or not, with open arms and a broad smile.
There is nothing to be found on this walk, nothing that can be revealed, because there is nothing hidden. Open your eyes and see, but stop looking for something! See that nothing.
As Mōsō continued his walk to Byōdōji, and then on to Yakuōji and Bangai 4, Saba Daishi, his world was different. Now out of the mountains the walk was easy. Along the beaches life was pleasant. Now he realized there never had been any mountains, there aren't any beaches. There is no highway, no henro, no temples. There was no old woman any more than there was a monk. How could he not have seen that before?
Without putting words to it, Mōsō now knew that "Reality" was nothing but a projection of his thoughts. The world, in the grandest sense of that word, has no meaning outside of his mind's experience and interpretation of it. He understood that if he changed the meaning he assigned to anything he changed the experience of it. And by changing the experience, he actually changed reality, he changed the world.
Mōsō "saw" that of the millions and millions of sights that appeared to his eyes throughout the day, he had been mentally selecting only those that had, for whatever reason, interested him and thus forced him to acknowledge and record them. And the same with the millions of sounds that reached his ears, smells and tastes that accosted his nose and tongue, and the millions of tactile sensations that touched his body, whether the touch of his shirt and pants, his back pack, the wind, the heat of the sun or the chill of the shade, a bug, an itch. He continuously received sensations yet was selecting which one's to acknowledge based on the filters that he had built in his mind over the years.
Mōsō had come to realize that the world was completely his construction — his and his alone. Everyone he talked to, everything he said, everything he did, everything he thought, … everything... was of his making. There were no exceptions. And each and everyone of us does the same, in our own way, with our own thoughts, driven by our own beliefs, produced by our own experiences from the moment we were born. Each and every one of us inhabits a different world.
And yet, and yet, we all inhabit the same world. Or, a little more accurately, we don't. No one inhabits anything because there is only this and we are that, each and every one of us. There is no world, there is no me that inhabits it, nor is there a you. There is no world. There is just this. And for us henro, that this is the Henro Trail.
Once you commit to walking the trail, as Mōsō did, you do so with that attitude of acceptance. And while acceptance is the first step, this must be accompanied by internal generosity. External generosity, the willingness to share, to give, to offer what you once might have considered as yours, is the the opposite of selfishness The opposite of internal generosity, though, is self-centeredness, or self-cherishing. It is for this reason that attaining the stage where you can be generous to yourself is such a liberating feeling — you are allowing yourself freedom; free to be all that you can be, free to exceed any previous limitations you put on your own potential, free to be anything, free to be everything. Free to Be, which is what you really are at the deepest level, at the very core of you. External generosity is a freedom to give of yourself.; internal generosity is a freedom to be yourself. Do you see the difference? Even selfish people have the freedom to give, anyone can do that. But, very few people realize the freedom to Be. The freedom to let go and become everything. The freedom to blossom as a cherry blossom in the spring and to enchant people's lives as the multi-colored momiji in the hills of Arashiyama in the fall.
This is why the Perfection of Generosity is one of the most important of the paramitas. Without generosity, both external and internal, the path is blocked. So, once on the henro trail you first open your heart to external generosity, sharing yourself with everyone you meet. With just a little time, though, you begin to be generous with yourself, allowing yourself to be yourself, allowing yourself to be what you are, with all the bumps and wrinkles that includes.
Which brings us back to Mōsō. In his new world, he was no longer a henro and special. Everyone was a henro. There were no more difficult sections of the trail to walk. No more easy sections to walk. There was no trail or not-trail. There was just walking. There was no more farmer in her field or monk walking. And as he continued walking through the last of this first prefecture, tears filled his eyes in gratitude to his teacher and that old woman in the field.
Showing posts with label Henroroku. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Henroroku. Show all posts
Monday, February 27, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Henroroku 2
遍路録 2
Facing Hardship — Questions Appear
The Prologue
Who's to say that the scenery in the mountains is different from the scenery before you start the climb? Finding happiness and generosity amidst hardship is only the first step on the trail. After that step, taking one step after another may be the only way to walk it but the only way to see the entire henro trail is to stop.
The Main Case
Coming down from Tairyūji, Monk Mōsō was elated. The first test had been overcome and he had successfully climbed to Bangai 1 and 3, Temples 12 and 20, and now Temple 21, the last mountain temple for a week, at least. It had been difficult, but the hard work was over for a while.
As Mōsō walked passed a rice paddy, he met an old lady clearing weeds along its banks. Stopping to take a short break he greeted her enthusiastically.
“Good afternoon, grandma. Beautiful day, isn't it.”
Looking him over, the old lady responded, “Yes, another beautiful day. You're a monk? Where are you from?”
“I just came from Tairyūji.” Noticing that the old lady frowned at that answer, he quickly added, “I'm walking the henro trail.”
“Is that so.” the old lady responded, with another frown. “If so, where did you spend your time this morning?”
“I told you, i'm walking the henro trail, grandma, so i have been walking.”
“You must have gotten lost many times, its not easy to stay on the trail.”
“No, i'm very good at following the markers,” replied Mōsō, but not certain he was sure what the old lady was really saying, he tried to change the subject. “Have you lived your whole life here, grandma? Do you have family here?”
“Of course. Everyone in town is my family. Every henro that passes by is my family. The birds on the mountain you just descended are my family. This rice paddy is my family. What isn't my family?”
Now suddenly angry, Mōsō shot back, “I'm a monk, don't try and lecture to me about the dharma.”
“What do you think i am?”
“A confused old woman,” he retorted.
“How can you call yourself a monk?” the old lady calmly replied, looking deeply into his eyes.
“Listen, grandma, don't confuse the dharma with your nonsense.”
“I'm not confusing the dharma.”
“How is what you said not confusing the dharma?”
“You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?”
Bewildered, but aware that he needed to think, Mōsō simply bowed his head silently, turned around, and resumed his walk towards Temple 22.
The Capping Verse
Dark clouds blanket all
In the pitch black who can see
One moon shines on all
-------
Monk Mōsō had made good progress so far since setting out on the henro trail. He had covered a lot of territory in his first week of walking and managed all the mountain temples with no major physical problems. Now, coming down from the last of those in the first prefecture, he was almost giddy with happiness and pride.
In a good mood and wanting to take a short break, he stopped to great an old woman working in her rice paddy beside the road. And while the conversation had started simply enough, like the last conversation with his master before setting out, he soon realized that something was wrong. But that was his master and this was an old woman. And a farmer! How dare she try and lecture him.
But this walk had given him a lot of time to think each day, and as he headed towards Temple 22, he wondered. Why had the old lady assumed he had gotten lost many times? And for that matter, why had Master Chie also said he would get lost “countless times?” That was his words, countless times. Did they think he was too stupid to follow the trail markers? That couldn't be it, could it? The markers were everywhere and easy to spot. Well, most of the time anyhow.
And that nonsense about everyone and everything being her family? That was nonsense, certainly. ? But Master Chie has also ridiculed him for mentioning “four” prefectures, saying that there was only one. What was that weird comment all about? What was he missing?
Victor Turner, in his writings on pilgrimage, talks about liminality, that time between intentionally stepping out of your previous life and that time when your pilgrimage is finished and you reintegrate into your old community, internally changed, but physically back again. Somewhere in this stretch of the trail between Temples 1 and 21 is where most make that leap from the known and certain into the unknown and uncertain, where they cross over from being hikers to being henro walking the henro trail.
During the first stage of this walk most people are cocky. They are certain of all too many things: who they are, what they are doing, and worse, what they will find during the walk, and even what they will experience. This certainty kills any questions that could be, should be, at the front of their mind.
But, when the door to those questions finally opens, the question that drives this leap into liminality may be the question of motive. Why are you here? Why are you putting yourself through the sometimes agonizing climbs and descents? What is the purpose of all of this. At first it seemed simple, either someone told you that you should walk the trail or you felt compelled, for some unknown reason, to see what it was about. But, by now, as much as you want to simply relax and walk, that question of motive has taken hold and remains agonizingly present.
Mōsō was no different, he now constantly wondered if there was more to this than he had originally assumed. He was here only because Master Chie had strongly suggested that he should do the walk, and in that last conversation had hinted that he wasn't looking in the right direction for answers. And now this old lady. Grandma's words seemed harmless enough, and she didn't seem to be the type to lecture passersby, but...
But what? What was it he was missing? And why had he gotten angry all of the sudden? He hadn't been angry or lost his patience since he started the walk. It was subtle, but he noticed himself changing as each day passed. He was becoming calmer and, and.... what?
That was it,... he suddenly realized that he had become much more open to others and much less concerned with himself over this past week. It was bizarre, in a way; just a week ago he was very much living his life in the first person, to both his and his master's chagrin. Everything he did was confined by and filtered through his own experience.
Lately, however, he had noticed that he derived infinitely more happiness by intentionally trying to step out of his experience and into that of others: noticing and interacting with people he met, listening to other henro's stories, and by trying to see the henro trail through their eyes. He was happiest when he stopped to talk to people on the side of the trail, like the old lady today.
What made him even happier, though, was the chance to make others smile: to give candy and omamori to the children he met, to tell jokes with the old men in the paddies and watch them laugh, to sit around the table at dinner each night offering what advice he could while everyone ate, laughed, and enjoyed themselves.
Yes, that was it. It had started soon after setting out when he began to notice the ever present generosity of others. And as the days passed, he found himself beginning to spontaneously offer generosity to others in return. And he found that he had never been happier in his life. It was then that he vowed to be as generous as he could, on every occasion that he could, each and every day. Generosity would become a daily practice.
Then why had he gotten mad at the old lady? He had resolved to be generous with everyone. He had resolved to he happy all the time, to offer only happiness and uplifting thoughts to all that he met. Yet the old lady had shattered his resolve in less than three minutes. Why?
The truth is, the old lady had just kicked Mōsō over the line, from the comfortable life he was used to into that new, unknown, and uncertain world that is known as Henro. We all, Mōsō included, have the habit of postponing life instead of living it. We don't live now, we live dreams of tomorrow. We may find trinkets of happiness along the road to that tomorrow, but our habit is very definitely to postpone our lives as we look down the road for answers instead of directly under our feet.
Likewise, as we start our henro we are only looking to get to the next temple; we're not living in each step of the journey between the temples. Yet it is there, in each step, that the henro lies.
Practicing generosity continuously, offering happiness always, doesn't just require mental training, it is mental training. As the lojong sayings state: you are well trained if you can practice even when distracted. And that had been his problem, Mōsō saw that clearly now. He had been distracted. His fixation on himself had started to diminish, but his mind still wandered throughout the day, he frequently found himself walking kilometer after kilometer only to realize that he never saw one blade of grass on the trail. He was always looking for the next temple.
Could that have been what the old lady was asking when she asked where he had spent his time that morning? Could that have been what she was pointing to when she accused him of getting lost? Had Master Chie been pointing to the same thing? Could he have been confused about their questions and still be too self-centered to see?
The whole world was her family, she had said, yet she then added “You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?”
Yes, indeed, is confusion the issue?
Facing Hardship — Questions Appear
The Prologue
Who's to say that the scenery in the mountains is different from the scenery before you start the climb? Finding happiness and generosity amidst hardship is only the first step on the trail. After that step, taking one step after another may be the only way to walk it but the only way to see the entire henro trail is to stop.
The Main Case
Coming down from Tairyūji, Monk Mōsō was elated. The first test had been overcome and he had successfully climbed to Bangai 1 and 3, Temples 12 and 20, and now Temple 21, the last mountain temple for a week, at least. It had been difficult, but the hard work was over for a while.
As Mōsō walked passed a rice paddy, he met an old lady clearing weeds along its banks. Stopping to take a short break he greeted her enthusiastically.
“Good afternoon, grandma. Beautiful day, isn't it.”
Looking him over, the old lady responded, “Yes, another beautiful day. You're a monk? Where are you from?”
“I just came from Tairyūji.” Noticing that the old lady frowned at that answer, he quickly added, “I'm walking the henro trail.”
“Is that so.” the old lady responded, with another frown. “If so, where did you spend your time this morning?”
“I told you, i'm walking the henro trail, grandma, so i have been walking.”
“You must have gotten lost many times, its not easy to stay on the trail.”
“No, i'm very good at following the markers,” replied Mōsō, but not certain he was sure what the old lady was really saying, he tried to change the subject. “Have you lived your whole life here, grandma? Do you have family here?”
“Of course. Everyone in town is my family. Every henro that passes by is my family. The birds on the mountain you just descended are my family. This rice paddy is my family. What isn't my family?”
Now suddenly angry, Mōsō shot back, “I'm a monk, don't try and lecture to me about the dharma.”
“What do you think i am?”
“A confused old woman,” he retorted.
“How can you call yourself a monk?” the old lady calmly replied, looking deeply into his eyes.
“Listen, grandma, don't confuse the dharma with your nonsense.”
“I'm not confusing the dharma.”
“How is what you said not confusing the dharma?”
“You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?”
Bewildered, but aware that he needed to think, Mōsō simply bowed his head silently, turned around, and resumed his walk towards Temple 22.
The Capping Verse
Dark clouds blanket all
In the pitch black who can see
One moon shines on all
-------
Monk Mōsō had made good progress so far since setting out on the henro trail. He had covered a lot of territory in his first week of walking and managed all the mountain temples with no major physical problems. Now, coming down from the last of those in the first prefecture, he was almost giddy with happiness and pride.
In a good mood and wanting to take a short break, he stopped to great an old woman working in her rice paddy beside the road. And while the conversation had started simply enough, like the last conversation with his master before setting out, he soon realized that something was wrong. But that was his master and this was an old woman. And a farmer! How dare she try and lecture him.
But this walk had given him a lot of time to think each day, and as he headed towards Temple 22, he wondered. Why had the old lady assumed he had gotten lost many times? And for that matter, why had Master Chie also said he would get lost “countless times?” That was his words, countless times. Did they think he was too stupid to follow the trail markers? That couldn't be it, could it? The markers were everywhere and easy to spot. Well, most of the time anyhow.
And that nonsense about everyone and everything being her family? That was nonsense, certainly. ? But Master Chie has also ridiculed him for mentioning “four” prefectures, saying that there was only one. What was that weird comment all about? What was he missing?
Victor Turner, in his writings on pilgrimage, talks about liminality, that time between intentionally stepping out of your previous life and that time when your pilgrimage is finished and you reintegrate into your old community, internally changed, but physically back again. Somewhere in this stretch of the trail between Temples 1 and 21 is where most make that leap from the known and certain into the unknown and uncertain, where they cross over from being hikers to being henro walking the henro trail.
During the first stage of this walk most people are cocky. They are certain of all too many things: who they are, what they are doing, and worse, what they will find during the walk, and even what they will experience. This certainty kills any questions that could be, should be, at the front of their mind.
But, when the door to those questions finally opens, the question that drives this leap into liminality may be the question of motive. Why are you here? Why are you putting yourself through the sometimes agonizing climbs and descents? What is the purpose of all of this. At first it seemed simple, either someone told you that you should walk the trail or you felt compelled, for some unknown reason, to see what it was about. But, by now, as much as you want to simply relax and walk, that question of motive has taken hold and remains agonizingly present.
Mōsō was no different, he now constantly wondered if there was more to this than he had originally assumed. He was here only because Master Chie had strongly suggested that he should do the walk, and in that last conversation had hinted that he wasn't looking in the right direction for answers. And now this old lady. Grandma's words seemed harmless enough, and she didn't seem to be the type to lecture passersby, but...
But what? What was it he was missing? And why had he gotten angry all of the sudden? He hadn't been angry or lost his patience since he started the walk. It was subtle, but he noticed himself changing as each day passed. He was becoming calmer and, and.... what?
That was it,... he suddenly realized that he had become much more open to others and much less concerned with himself over this past week. It was bizarre, in a way; just a week ago he was very much living his life in the first person, to both his and his master's chagrin. Everything he did was confined by and filtered through his own experience.
Lately, however, he had noticed that he derived infinitely more happiness by intentionally trying to step out of his experience and into that of others: noticing and interacting with people he met, listening to other henro's stories, and by trying to see the henro trail through their eyes. He was happiest when he stopped to talk to people on the side of the trail, like the old lady today.
What made him even happier, though, was the chance to make others smile: to give candy and omamori to the children he met, to tell jokes with the old men in the paddies and watch them laugh, to sit around the table at dinner each night offering what advice he could while everyone ate, laughed, and enjoyed themselves.
Yes, that was it. It had started soon after setting out when he began to notice the ever present generosity of others. And as the days passed, he found himself beginning to spontaneously offer generosity to others in return. And he found that he had never been happier in his life. It was then that he vowed to be as generous as he could, on every occasion that he could, each and every day. Generosity would become a daily practice.
Then why had he gotten mad at the old lady? He had resolved to be generous with everyone. He had resolved to he happy all the time, to offer only happiness and uplifting thoughts to all that he met. Yet the old lady had shattered his resolve in less than three minutes. Why?
The truth is, the old lady had just kicked Mōsō over the line, from the comfortable life he was used to into that new, unknown, and uncertain world that is known as Henro. We all, Mōsō included, have the habit of postponing life instead of living it. We don't live now, we live dreams of tomorrow. We may find trinkets of happiness along the road to that tomorrow, but our habit is very definitely to postpone our lives as we look down the road for answers instead of directly under our feet.
Likewise, as we start our henro we are only looking to get to the next temple; we're not living in each step of the journey between the temples. Yet it is there, in each step, that the henro lies.
Practicing generosity continuously, offering happiness always, doesn't just require mental training, it is mental training. As the lojong sayings state: you are well trained if you can practice even when distracted. And that had been his problem, Mōsō saw that clearly now. He had been distracted. His fixation on himself had started to diminish, but his mind still wandered throughout the day, he frequently found himself walking kilometer after kilometer only to realize that he never saw one blade of grass on the trail. He was always looking for the next temple.
Could that have been what the old lady was asking when she asked where he had spent his time that morning? Could that have been what she was pointing to when she accused him of getting lost? Had Master Chie been pointing to the same thing? Could he have been confused about their questions and still be too self-centered to see?
The whole world was her family, she had said, yet she then added “You're a monk walking the henro trail, i'm a farmer clearing weeds. Where is the confusion?”
Yes, indeed, is confusion the issue?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Henroroku 1
遍路録 1
(Henro Records 1)
Aspirations & Setting out
The Prologue
Setting out it's like a dream, so real yet hardly understood. From the time we arrive until the time we depart it's one breath after another, until near the end we realize that what we once took for certain about that insignificant act might not be all we thought.
The Main Case
Master Chie sat fanning himself in his quarters when Monk Mōsō approached and said, "I am setting out to undertake the Shikoku Henro. Do you have any advice."
Master Chie continued to fan himself.
Monk Mōsō, not understanding, asked again, "Can you give me any advice master."
Master Chie stopped fanning long enough to say, "Who is going?," and then began to fan himself again.
Again completely blind to his master's generosity, Monk Mōsō said, "I am, master."
"The weeds are thick and the moon will be covered as you set out. With luck you will get lost countless times. Aren't you afraid you will disappear?"
"No master, there are a great many sign posts along the trail in all four prefectures."
"There is only one, who speaks of four?"
"Master, you have lived here all your life. How can you ask such a question?"
"Get out you fool."
Monk Mōsō bowed, and in confusion set out on his journey.
The Capping Verse
Setting out who seeks
Which mind aspires to see it
From where do you leave
----------
However long it took to plan, however far you traveled to get here, you now find yourself at the niōmon of Ryōzenji, Temple 1. This is where the henro starts for most people; and where it will also end some months later, but that's a story for much further down the road.
Your first action, while bowing in respect as you prepare to pass through the niōmon, should be to say goodbye to a loved one, the person who brought you here. That person is the one you saw in the mirror the last time you looked. That person is the one on the photo ID that you used to board the airplane to Japan. That person is the person you normally call 'you' when discussing your life.
Once you pass through the niōmon at Temple 1, you will begin a new relationship with that 'you.' Don't be rude, that 'you' is important and helps you in countless ways, day in and day out, to get you through your conventional life. It's simply that for what you are about to do, another 'you' is more appropriate, more important, and that 'you' is the real you.
Throughout the days and weeks to come, you will constantly see the phrase Dōgyō Ninin, Two Pilgrims, Walking Together. And while that universally means that you and Kōbō Daishi will be walking together, it could also be taken to mean that two sides of you, yourself, will be walking together.
With effort, over the course of the next 1,400 km the real you will be uncovered and a new working relationship will be established between that person you really are and that 'you' that lives on your ID card. It will take persistence, patience, and a resolve unlike most other projects you have undertaken.
This is the reason that Tokushima Prefecture, the first prefecture you walk through during your Henro, is called the Hosshin No Dōjō; The Dōjō of Awakening Faith. It is here, before that niōmon at Temple 1, that you resolve to work diligently, to do whatever it takes, to awaken to enlightenment, to awaken to who you really are underneath the person society has trained you to be.
Throughout this struggle, throughout the upcoming 1,400 km, your faith will be tested. But, as the prefectural name implies, Hosshin no Dōjō is a commitment, a resolution to maintain your faith — in Kōbō Daishi's willingness to help, in yourself, in your ability to complete what you are about to start, in your ability to persist and endure, and in your ability to open up enough to learn from the island, the temples, the people, and the experience as you walk day after day for the next several months.
Let's make this perfectly clear even before your first step: that which you will be seeking, that which you are devoting every ounce of your mental and physical strength to find, is already in your possession. You are not going to find something outside of yourself during this walk, you already have it — you simply need to learn how to open your hand and let the old, conventional 'you' fall away. This trip is not about gaining anything, but about letting go.
Dōgen makes this clear in his famous quote from the Genjōkoan chapter of his Shōbōgenzō”
"To learn the Buddhist Way is to learn about oneself. To learn about oneself is to forget oneself. To forget oneself is to perceive oneself as all things. To realize this is to cast off the body and mind of self and others. When you have reached this stage you will be detached even from enlightenment but will practice it continually without thinking about it."
To understand who you really are, who and what we all really are, you have to study yourself. Not original texts, commentaries, mandalas, rituals, or anything else outside of yourself. You have to study yourself. And as contrary as it may sound, that means forgetting yourself, that 'you' that lives on your ID card, that 'you' you have grown up with, that 'you' that has undergone countless days of training and conditioning to be as it is.
This is why you need to say goodbye to that 'you' as you begin your walk. You don't leave it behind, but you stick it in your backpack, or in the bag that holds your sutra book, candles, and incense, keeping it ever ready in case you need it, but out of the way so the real you has the chance to appear.
As Mōsō gets ready to set out he stopped to get any last minute advice from the master of his temple, Master Chie. Being the compassionate and generous master that he is, he tried to point out these issues to Monk Mōsō, but to no avail. At this point Mōsō is blind; he knows he is supposed to walk, but he has no other questions and without those questions, he is oblivious to any answers that are offered.
Master Chie has very generously given Mōsō the questions he will need to carry with him during his walk but they flew right over his head. But Mōsō has one thing going for him — he is resolved to figure out what happened. He has faith that Master Chie didn't call him a fool unthinkingly. His faith and resolve are alive and well.
And so begins his Henro.
(Henro Records 1)
Aspirations & Setting out
The Prologue
Setting out it's like a dream, so real yet hardly understood. From the time we arrive until the time we depart it's one breath after another, until near the end we realize that what we once took for certain about that insignificant act might not be all we thought.
The Main Case
Master Chie sat fanning himself in his quarters when Monk Mōsō approached and said, "I am setting out to undertake the Shikoku Henro. Do you have any advice."
Master Chie continued to fan himself.
Monk Mōsō, not understanding, asked again, "Can you give me any advice master."
Master Chie stopped fanning long enough to say, "Who is going?," and then began to fan himself again.
Again completely blind to his master's generosity, Monk Mōsō said, "I am, master."
"The weeds are thick and the moon will be covered as you set out. With luck you will get lost countless times. Aren't you afraid you will disappear?"
"No master, there are a great many sign posts along the trail in all four prefectures."
"There is only one, who speaks of four?"
"Master, you have lived here all your life. How can you ask such a question?"
"Get out you fool."
Monk Mōsō bowed, and in confusion set out on his journey.
The Capping Verse
Setting out who seeks
Which mind aspires to see it
From where do you leave
----------
However long it took to plan, however far you traveled to get here, you now find yourself at the niōmon of Ryōzenji, Temple 1. This is where the henro starts for most people; and where it will also end some months later, but that's a story for much further down the road.
Your first action, while bowing in respect as you prepare to pass through the niōmon, should be to say goodbye to a loved one, the person who brought you here. That person is the one you saw in the mirror the last time you looked. That person is the one on the photo ID that you used to board the airplane to Japan. That person is the person you normally call 'you' when discussing your life.
Once you pass through the niōmon at Temple 1, you will begin a new relationship with that 'you.' Don't be rude, that 'you' is important and helps you in countless ways, day in and day out, to get you through your conventional life. It's simply that for what you are about to do, another 'you' is more appropriate, more important, and that 'you' is the real you.
Throughout the days and weeks to come, you will constantly see the phrase Dōgyō Ninin, Two Pilgrims, Walking Together. And while that universally means that you and Kōbō Daishi will be walking together, it could also be taken to mean that two sides of you, yourself, will be walking together.
With effort, over the course of the next 1,400 km the real you will be uncovered and a new working relationship will be established between that person you really are and that 'you' that lives on your ID card. It will take persistence, patience, and a resolve unlike most other projects you have undertaken.
This is the reason that Tokushima Prefecture, the first prefecture you walk through during your Henro, is called the Hosshin No Dōjō; The Dōjō of Awakening Faith. It is here, before that niōmon at Temple 1, that you resolve to work diligently, to do whatever it takes, to awaken to enlightenment, to awaken to who you really are underneath the person society has trained you to be.
Throughout this struggle, throughout the upcoming 1,400 km, your faith will be tested. But, as the prefectural name implies, Hosshin no Dōjō is a commitment, a resolution to maintain your faith — in Kōbō Daishi's willingness to help, in yourself, in your ability to complete what you are about to start, in your ability to persist and endure, and in your ability to open up enough to learn from the island, the temples, the people, and the experience as you walk day after day for the next several months.
Let's make this perfectly clear even before your first step: that which you will be seeking, that which you are devoting every ounce of your mental and physical strength to find, is already in your possession. You are not going to find something outside of yourself during this walk, you already have it — you simply need to learn how to open your hand and let the old, conventional 'you' fall away. This trip is not about gaining anything, but about letting go.
Dōgen makes this clear in his famous quote from the Genjōkoan chapter of his Shōbōgenzō”
"To learn the Buddhist Way is to learn about oneself. To learn about oneself is to forget oneself. To forget oneself is to perceive oneself as all things. To realize this is to cast off the body and mind of self and others. When you have reached this stage you will be detached even from enlightenment but will practice it continually without thinking about it."
To understand who you really are, who and what we all really are, you have to study yourself. Not original texts, commentaries, mandalas, rituals, or anything else outside of yourself. You have to study yourself. And as contrary as it may sound, that means forgetting yourself, that 'you' that lives on your ID card, that 'you' you have grown up with, that 'you' that has undergone countless days of training and conditioning to be as it is.
This is why you need to say goodbye to that 'you' as you begin your walk. You don't leave it behind, but you stick it in your backpack, or in the bag that holds your sutra book, candles, and incense, keeping it ever ready in case you need it, but out of the way so the real you has the chance to appear.
As Mōsō gets ready to set out he stopped to get any last minute advice from the master of his temple, Master Chie. Being the compassionate and generous master that he is, he tried to point out these issues to Monk Mōsō, but to no avail. At this point Mōsō is blind; he knows he is supposed to walk, but he has no other questions and without those questions, he is oblivious to any answers that are offered.
Master Chie has very generously given Mōsō the questions he will need to carry with him during his walk but they flew right over his head. But Mōsō has one thing going for him — he is resolved to figure out what happened. He has faith that Master Chie didn't call him a fool unthinkingly. His faith and resolve are alive and well.
And so begins his Henro.
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