Shido Munan

Gudo Toshoku had a student who gave up his studies to become an inn keeper far from Gudo’s temple. An occasion arose when Gudo was in the region of the inn, and he stopped by to see how his former student was doing. He was greeted by the inn-keeper’s wife who told the Zen master that her husband was out. She invited him to come in to wait for him, and, as the two sat together, they fell into easy conversation during the course of which the wife confided that her husband had taken to drinking in recent years.

“When he drinks,” she said, “he can become abusive. He also gambles when he has too much to drink, and he always loses. Really, there are times when I think I and my children would be better off without him, but he’s my husband. What can I do?”

“Let me see what I can do,” Gudo suggested. “It’s late. You retire, and I’ll wait for your husband. But before you leave, would you please bring me a bottle of your best sake and two cups.”  

The woman did as Gudo asked. Then she gathered her children together, and they retired to the sleeping quarters. Gudo remained in the main room of the inn, seated in meditation. Around midnight, the inn-keeper returned home in a drunken-state and was embarrassed to find his teacher there. Gudo did not reprimand him for his behavior and, in fact, indicated the bottle of sake set out on a table. Gudo invited the inn-keeper to share a cup with him, to which the man readily agreed. The two had several cups of wine, chatting idly, and eventually the inn-keeper fell asleep on the floor.

When he woke the next morning, he found Gudo still seated in meditation before the family shrine.

“You are awake,” Gudo noted. “And it is time for me to return to the capital.”

The man, a little hung-over and humiliated that his teacher had seen him in such a disreputable condition, mumbled a reply.

As Gudo tied his sandals, he remarked, “You know, human life is brief and all things pass away. When you spend your time drinking and gambling, you have no time for other things that may be much more important. Besides which, you bring sorrow to your family and those who depend upon you.”

The inn-keeper broke into tears and admitted that he had known for some time he needed to change his behavior. He swore an oath to do so starting that very day, and, as a sign of gratitude, he asked Gudo to allow him to carry his bags on the first stage of his journey. Gudo agreed and the two set off. When they had gone a fair distance, Gudo told the man he should return home. But the man asked to be allowed to accompany the Zen master a little further. Eventually they arrived at the next village, and, once again Gudo offered to take up his own bags. The man said he was willing to accompany Gudo a bit further.  

The next time Gudo offered to take up his bags, the man shook his head, “I’ll go with you all the way to Edo.”

Once they came to the city, the man had his head shaved and entered monastic life at the age of 52. Gudo gave him the name Shido Munan, a phrase found in the Xinxin Ming of the third Chinese Patriarch, Jianzhi Sengcan, the first line of which reads “The Perfect Way (shido) has no difficulties (munan).”

Zen Masters of Japan: 186-89

 

Gudo Toshoku

The retired emperor, Go-Yozei, inquired of Gudo Toshoku, “A man who comes to enlightenment – what happens to him after he dies?”

“I don’t know,” Gudo admitted.

“You don’t know? Aren’t you an enlightened teacher?”

“I am. But not a dead one,” Gudo pointed out.

Zen Masters of Japan: 184-85, 186

Suzuki Shosan

When a monk asked Suzuki Shosan to assign him a koan, Shosan told him to keep his attention focused on the character for Death. No other koan, he said, was necessary. “Keep that alone in your heart and let all else go.”

Zen Masters of Japan: 170-80

Takuan Soho

Takuan Soho applied Zen to kendo, the art of the sword. In his letter to Yagyu Munenori on the “Mystery of Prajna Immoveable,” he begins by drawing attention to the tendency of the mind to “stop” or “abide” with things rather than flow naturally from one object to another. This is characteristic of avidya, or the ignorance which is the opposite of enlightenment. In kendo, if the swordsman’s attention is stopped in this manner, he will be unable to respond to the moves of his opponent.

“No doubt you see the sword about to strike you, but do not let your mind ‘stop’ there. Have no intention to counterattack him in response to his threatening move, cherish no calculating thoughts whatsoever. You simply perceive the opponent’s move, you do not allow your mind to ‘stop’ with it, you move on just as you are toward the opponent and make use of his attack by turning it on to himself.”

Zen Masters of Japan: 160-167

The Story of Zen: 187-88

Soeki Rikyu

Although he was not a monk, the tea master Soeki Rikyu is the subject of many stories which are now part of the Zen tradition.  One of the most famous tells of a visit that his patron, General Toyotomi Hideyoshi, intended to make to the master’s tea-house. Hideyoshi had been told that the morning glories blooming beside it were particularly impressive that year. When he arrived at the tea-house, however, he discovered that Rikyu had cut down all the vines. On entering the small tea-room, Hideyoshi found a single flower placed in a vase. Rikyu, following the example of Murata Shuko, had sacrificed all the morning glories outside for the sake of a single blossom.

Zen Masters of Japan: 151-154

Murata Shuko

The classic Japanese art in which Zen style is most fully evident is chanoyu—the tea ceremony. This evolved from the Chinese monastic practice, carried over to Japan, of serving tea to visitors. The secular ceremony in Japan is traced back to a student of Ikkyu Sojun, Murata Shuko, who once declared that the
taste of tea and the taste of Zen were the same. Ikkyu taught his disciple that by paying appropriate attention to the homely activity of steeping and serving tea he could bring the act to sacramental status. This awareness or mindfulness, however, cannot be forced; one cannot be truly aware if one makes an effort to be aware.

The ceremony Shuko developed was both formal and aesthetic. A special tea-house was designed and kept deliberately small. Indoor space was measured by the size of tatami mats, which were slightly less than 3’ x 6’. A tea house was traditionally four and a half mats, or approximately 9 foot square. The doorway was low, so that all who entered had to bow in order to do so. The interior space was sparsely decorated, with perhaps a painting or an example of calligraphy on the wall, and a small alcove in which a simple floral arrangement—the predecessor of the art of ikebana—was displayed.

Shuko explained the atmosphere he sought to achieve by relating the story of a Chinese poet who had described the vivid contrast between blossoms on a plum tree in early spring against the woods still covered with snow. A friend of the poet suggested the poem would be more effective if only a single flower had bloomed against the white background. The starkness of that contrast is what Shuko achieved by placing just one flower in a vase within the austere tea shed.

The implements are chosen for their beauty as much as for their function. And in this highly stylized environment the tea master prepares and serves the beverage for a group of no more than four guests. Etiquette limits conversation to a discussion of the artistic merits of the wall hanging or the utensils. Affairs of state or other matters were proscribed. The tea house, thus, became a refuge from daily cares and concerns, and, as such, became popular with both military leaders and the nobility.

Zen Masters of Japan: 149-51

The Story of Zen: 186

Sesshu Toyo

Some maintain that the greatest traditional artist of Japan
was Sesshu Toyo who was enrolled at a Zen monastery near his home while still a child. His training was both spiritual and secular. A popular tale about his childhood, however, suggests that his inclination was towards the latter. It is related that on one occasion he was tied to a pillar in the meditation hall for some infraction of monastic discipline—possibly for spending more time drawing than meditating. When the allotted time for the punishment had elapsed, a monk came to the hall to release Sesshu and was startled to see a rat by the boy’s foot. The monk sought to chase it away before it bit the child, only to discover that the rodent had been drawn on the floor mat with ink made from Sesshu’s tears mixed with dust.

Zen Masters of Japan: 147-49