Respect for characters

Over the last few years I've tried to learn what I can of the Chinese and Japanese languages. I want to read Han Shan in the original. I want to read Ryokan in the original. Of course, learning these at the same time has a number of drawbacks in making progress with either.

Spoken Chinese (Mandarin, or Pu tong hua, the common language) is "tonal" in the sense that the pitch (high, rising, falling, falling-then-rising) determines meaning, so just saying "ma" isn't enough ... it's how you say it that counts. Japanese, on the other hand, isn't a tonal language (whew), but its complex grammar and multiple syllabaries (hiragana and katakana, as well as kanji) make it one of the more challenging languages to learn.

This semester I am trying something a little more formal. I'm taking a Japanese class at night, and it's a small class where real participation is expected. Active learning, like ... standing up in front of class and speaking.

The format of the class is not unlike aikido, not unlike zen. Something gets presented, and then you demonstrate your understanding in front of everyone. Then something else gets presented, and so on.

In aikido, the instructors show an attack and its defense, a series of complex movements, about 3 or 4 times, and then you pair up and "do it."

In zen, the teacher presents a koan and, one on one with him, face to face in interview, you demonstrate (or not) your understanding.

In Japanese class, the teacher presents sounds, characters, words, and sentences, and then you stand up in front of class and respond. Very intense. I like it.

This brings me to an issue of attitude, and something I've wanted to write about since I left Japan. In class the other night, our teacher said that stroke order in writing Japanese characters is important for several reasons, one of which is ... respect for the character being written.

Such a comment couldn't be made in America, not without a snicker from students or a smirk by the teacher to let everyone know he or she was "in on it." In Japan, one can see kiosk vendors, parking lot attendants, salespeople, etc., doing their jobs with an attitude that's hard to put into words ... hmm, what's the opposite of "cynical?"

As an American, I find that so different. It's refreshing.

むくしゅめつどう

Why did I
leave home to be a monk?
I think it over
until my heart is dyed
deep as the black sleeves of my robe.

-Ryokan

* むくしゅめつどう is a phrase from the Heart Sutra: "no suffering, no cause of suffering, no ending of suffering, and no path."

Rain

Once when young I lay and listened
To the rain falling on the roof
Of a brothel. The candle light
Gleamed on silk and silky flesh.
Later I heard it on the
Cabin roof of a small boat
On the Great River, under
Low clouds, where wild geese cried out
On the Autumn storm. Now I
Hear it again on the monastery
Roof. My hair has turned white.
Joy - sorrow - parting - meeting -
Are all as though they had
Never been. Only the rain
Is the same, falling in streams
On the tiles, all through the night.

-Chiang Chieh

The sixth patriarch

Before you think good or evil, who are you?
-Hui Neng

When you see a flower

How do you manifest your true nature when you see a flower?

Wedging life into an ideal
Like resorting to poetic license
Grave sins both --
A broken spider web glistens
In the morning sun

Cold Mountain

Man, living in the dust
is like a bug trapped in a bowl.
All day he scrabbles round and round,
but never escapes the bowl that holds him.
The immortals are beyond his reach,
his craving has no end,
while months and years flow by like a river
until in an instant he has grown old.

-Han Shan

Today at Sosen-ji

Chanting the heart of the perfection of wisdom
Then quietly sitting with nose and navel aligned.
Buddhism's wondrous power?
Pines sough in the wind
While the old man in the west
Loses his beard.

Today's talk by Sandy, Sosen-ji's teacher, was drawn from the Lin-chi lu, the record of the teachings of Master Lin-chi from Tang dynasty China. The lineage of Lin-chi (Jap: Rinzai) survives in Korea, Japan, and the US.

From the Lin-chi lu (#48), when the Master was just a novice monk:

When the Master (Lin-chi) was first in Huang-po's group, he went about his activities in an earnest and straightforward manner. The head monk expressed admiration, saying, "Though he's still young, he's different from the others!" Then he asked, "How long have you been here?"

"Three years," said the Master.

The head monk said, "Have you been in to question the teacher yet."

The Master said, "No, I haven't been in to ask questions. I don't know what to ask."

The head monk said, "Why don't you go ask the Reverend who heads this temple, `What is the real basic meaning of Buddhism?' "

The Master went and asked, but before he had finished speaking, Huang-po struck him a blow.

When the Master returned from the interview, the head monk said, "How did the question go?"

The Master said, "Before I had even finished asking the question, the Reverend struck me. I don't understand."

The head monk said, "Just go ask him again."

The Master went and asked again, and again Huang-po hit him. In this way he went three times to ask his question and three times was struck.

The master came to report to the head monk. "Thanks to your kind instruction, I've been able to question the Reverend. Three times I questioned him and three times he struck me. To my regret, I'm impeded by bad karma and can't grasp the profound meaning in all this. Now I'll be going on my way."

During the talk, a gentle breeze was blowing through the trees and swirling incense in the hall. And Sandy asked "What are the leaves saying?" He turned to Samana, a little 4 year old girl and asked her directly, "Samana, what are the leaves of the trees saying?" She answered without missing a beat, "Please give us some rain."

Phantoms, illusions, empty flowers --
why trouble yourself trying to grasp them?
Gain, loss, right, wrong --
Throw them away at once!

-Lin-chi