Reflection on leaving the household
I came to the mountain
to avoid hearing
the sound of waves.
Lonesome now in another way –
wind in the the pine forest.
Ryokan, from Sky Above, Great Wind: The Life and Poetry of Zen Master Ryokan, Kazuaki Tanahashi
Ryokan is likely my favourite in the imposing genre of Zen Master poets. Kaz Tanahashi offers a delightful exploration of his life and, more delectably, his art. This is a companion book to carry with you and dip into as the moment arises.
There is the simple in Ryokan’s words, a feature that likely gave rise, along with his own demeanor, to the sobriquet of “The Zen Fool.” And perhaps that is fitting because to surrender all manner of contact, comfort, and conventionality would require adopting or cultivating a simple-mindedness about what matters. Like the Divine Fool Nasreddin before him, Ryokan challenges me to re-perceive my life through his subtle teachings.
Falling blossoms.
Blossoms in bloom are also
falling blossoms.
That preferential mind, holding onto one phase of the continuous flow through life and death. I notice this in every shift from health to illness, that desire for the ease of movement, of the quickness of thought. And he too reveals his own clinging:
Dancing the bon dance,
with a hand towel
I hide my age.
Simplicity of body, speech, and mind reflects a deep self-knowing, an awareness of how we fit in this fleeting world. It’s the honoring of that fit which causes me trouble.
It is not that
I avoid mixing
with the world;
but I do better
playing alone.
And then in counterpoint, so human, Ryokan reassures me as he writes,
Were there someone
in the world
who feels as I feel,
we would talk all night
in this grass hut.
Being in world, connecting, becoming open, vulnerable. And all the time, seeking solitude, re-connecting with what matters.
If someone asks
about the mind of this monk,
say it is no more than
a passage of wind
in the vast sky.
{Edit: It is with great spacious humour that I admit having mixed up the script for “sky” and “great.” One continuous mistake! These calligraphies are hopefully corrected in the right-minded direction.}
Genju, love your review, Ryokan and Kaz!
Thank you, Myokyo! Kaz really caught the spirit of Ryokan in this book. It’s a real keeper!
thank you for your review of what sounds like a lovely book (i also ordered ‘the hidden lamp’ while i was at it!) it will be added to my growing collection of ryokan books. sometimes you meet someone across time and space, heart to heart. ryokan is one of those ‘someones’ and i return to his words again and again. we could definitely talk all night in his grass hut.
Hello Myoe! Thank you for inviting these fine writers into your home. Florence, Susan & Kaz are good companions to have – as are Ryokan, Dogen and all the women ancestors!
Thanks for this lovely evocation of Ryokan – with your sweetly sinuous strokes as demonstration/illustration. He is one of my favorites too!
Hi David! So happy you enjoyed this. Getting back to the brush work these days and it is a blessing.
Is that your calligraphy? Beautiful!
Yes, it is, Kogen. Thank you! Returning to the silence of the brush.
It’s not the world that’s fleeting, it’s us. We rise from it, we go back into it.
What happens to it when we rise from and go back into it?
Why should something happen to it? It still just is – and us as part of it.
Reblogged this on Optimist.