I roughly get how Zen helps individuals, but what does it actually offer the world? Even if I’ve realized my true nature, what good does it do for farmers drowning in debt or the war in Yemen or some other plague of the world? If you’re upset by
Does Zen have rules like other religions? I know some Chinese and Vietnamese Buddhists are vegetarian-mostly because I used to go to their fairs to get a free meal when I was badly strapped for cash. Rules. Lots and lots of rules. Rules on how to put on your sandals,
What’s the Zen take on good and evil? My favorite question. Uh oh. Why? Cause I get to tell funny stories. Like this first one, a classic koan from the Blue Cliff Record: A monk asked Toshi, “Is it true that ‘All sounds are the voice of Buddha’?” Toshi
If people ask about Ryokan’s death poem, tell them it was “Homage to Amitabha Buddha.”*1 Buddhism in Japan's gotten a bad wrap as a culture ravaged by sectarianism. This is a mischaracterization. While there were, at times, fierce territorial and political disputes amongst the different sects,
In the stillness by the empty window I sit in meditation wearing my under robe. Navel and nose in alignment, Ears parallel with the shoulders. Moonlight floods the room; The rain stops but the eaves drip and drip. Perfect this moment— In the vast emptiness, understanding deepens.*1 Why bother
In my hermitage a volume of Cold Mountain Poems — It is better than any sutra. I copy his verses and post them all around, Savoring each one, over and over.*1 Who is Cold Mountain? I don't know. The only fragments of his life that survive are stories
In my youth I put aside my studies And aspired to be a saint. Living austerely as a mendicant monk, I wandered here and there for many springs. Finally I returned home to settle under a craggy peak. I live peacefully in a grass hut, Listening to the birds for
Thinking back, I recall my days at Entsū-ji And the solitary struggle to find the Way. Carrying firewood reminded me of Layman Hō; When I polished rice, the Sixth Patriarch came to mind. I was always first in line to receive the Master’s teaching, And never missed an hour
If someone asks my abode I reply: “The east edge of the Milky Way.” Like a drifting cloud, bound by nothing: I just let go giving myself up to the whim of the wind.*1 Where is my home? Is it in my house? Is it the county? Is it
Before we go off on this listicle, I'd like to invite you to take a moment to imagine living in Thailand (my home) 200 years ago. I know - random, but bear with me for a moment please, as this little thought experiment will be the foundation for
