Something once said about Ryokan has been on my mind, something very touching if one understands the context, which I am unable to give adequately here. After reading so much of his poetry, I feel I know his heart, and I also have some idea of the austerity of his training as a Soto Zen monk. Yet it's occupied my thoughts recently and I would like to share it.
After almost 12 years of training at Entsu-ji in Tamashima (in addition to four years before that at a local temple, Kosho-ji, Amaze, Izumozaki), Ryokan was ordained a priest by his master, Kokusen, who gave him a walking stick and a piece of paper, confirming his ordination. On it, Kokusen wrote: "Ryo seems foolish, but the path is very wide."
A year later Kokusen died, and Ryokan set off on pilgrimage for five years. After learning of his father's death, however, he returned to his native place and settled on Mount Kugami.
Ryokan had been head monk at Entsu-ji, a prestigious temple, and could have expected to be an abbot of his own temple, but he chose a different path. Once when such an offer was made to him, he responded with the following haiku:
the wind brings me
enough fallen leaves
to make a fire
What Ryokan's master said, what Ryokan wrote ... these words must be felt. An explanation ruins their beauty.
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