[Music]
 You know, I'm not really a musician, but it just so happens that I have in front of me
 a fabulous instrument which the Japanese call "koto".
 I suppose it would be best described as a table harp.
 A long instrument stringed with bridges, horizontal harp.
 [Music]
 It was customary among Chinese poets in the old days to read poetry and strum on the lute
 or table harp at the same time.
 And I've got here a curious old text called "Saikontan", which means "The Vegetable Root
 Discourses", written by Kojisei somewhere around 1624.
 And the translation is by R.H. Blythe in the first volume of his book "Haiku", which is
 published in Japan.
 And I thought I'd like to read some of this to you.
 And to get into the right mood, I suggest that you try to become a little stupid.
 That is to say, childlike, as if you hardly knew how to talk and didn't really know very
 much about anything that's going on.
 Just listen as you would listen to the wind.
 If the mind is clear, a dark room has its blue sky.
 If the mind is somber, broad daylight gives birth to demons and evil spirits.
 The just man has no mind to seek happiness.
 Heaven therefore, because of this mindlessness, opens its inmost heart.
 The bad man busies himself with avoiding misfortunes.
 Heaven therefore confounds him for this desire.
 How unsearchable are the ways of heaven!
 How useless the wisdom of man!
 Water not disturbed by waves settles down of itself.
 A mirror not covered with dust is clear and bright.
 The mind should be like this.
 When what beclouds it passes away, its brightness appears.
 Happiness must not be sought for.
 When what disturbs passes away, happiness comes of itself.
 The Tao is common property.
 It should be pointed out to all we meet.
 Learning is as ordinary as eating rice at home.
 According to the circumstances, it should be applied circumspectly.
 The ancients left rice for mice and did not light lamps out of pity for moths.
 These thoughts of theirs are the operation point of humanity in life.
 Understanding this, a man is a mere earthman, a wooden body.
 Without the sound of the bell in the silent night, I wake from my dream in this dreamworld
 of ours.
 Gazing at the reflection of the moon in a clear pool, I see beyond my form, my real
 form.
 The song of birds, the voices of insects are all means of conveying truth to the mind.
 In flowers and grasses, we see messages of the Tao, of the way of nature.
 The scholar, pure and clear of mind, serene and open of heart, should find in everything
 what nourishes him.
 Men know how to read printed books.
 They do not know how to read the unprinted ones.
 They can play on a stringed harp, but not on a stringless one.
 Applying themselves to the superficial instead of the profound, how should they understand
 music or poetry?
 If you know the inner significance of things, the misty moon of the five lakes is all within
 you.
 If you understand the activity of human phenomena, the heroism and nobility of the great men
 of all ages is in your grasp.
 Walking alone, leaning on a staff, in a valley of pine trees, clouds rise round my monkish
 robes, sleeping with a book as my pillow by the window beneath the bamboos, I wake when
 the moonlight steps on the floor cloths.
 A solitary cloud comes out of a mountain cave.
 It stays or departs without reference to anything else.
 The bright mirror of the moon hangs in the sky.
 It is aloof from both quietness and clamor.
 The Zen sect says, "When you are hungry, eat.
 When you are weary, sleep."
 Poetry aims at the description in common language of beautiful scenery.
 The sublime is contained in the ordinary, the hardest in the easiest.
 What is self-conscious and ulterior is far from the truth.
 What is mindless is near.
 The
 body is like a boat adrift, floating along, or motionless in a deep pool.
 The mind is like a piece of burnt wood.
 What matters if it is split-fueled or varnished with scented lacquer?
 Reading the Book of Changes at the morning window, I rub a vermilion stick of ink in
 the dew that drips from the pine trees.
 Discussing the sutras with a visitor, the sound of the wooden clapper is borne away
 on the wind from the bamboos.
 An ancient worthy says, "The shadow of the bamboo sweeps over the stairs, but the dust
 does not move.
 The disk of the moon passes through the water of the lake, leaving no trace."
 One of our Confucians says, "The stream rushes down swiftly, but all is silent around.
 The flowers fall incessantly, but we feel quiet."
 If you have grasped the meaning of this, in all your relations with things, you are free
 in mind and body.
 If your heart is without stormy waves, everywhere are blue mountains and green trees.
 If our real nature is creative like nature itself, wherever we may be, we see that all
 things are free like sporting fishes and circling kites.
 When in the moon, I take off my shoes and walk barefooted through the sweet-smelling
 grasses of the fields, while birds without fear are accompanying me.
 My heart at one with nature, I loosen my shirt as I sit absorbed beneath the falling petals,
 while the clouds silently enfold me as if wishing to keep me there.
 oh
 oh
 oh
 oh
 oh
 oh
 oh
 oh
 When waves reach the sky, those in the boat are unaware of the danger, but onlookers are trembling with fear.
 A drunken diner is swearing and cursing at the others, but they are quite unalarmed,
 whereas those outside are biting their tongues in apprehension of a quarrel.
 Thus, with the superior man, his body may be immersed in affairs, but his mind...
 is above and beyond them.
 Though my tea is not the very best, the pot is never dry.
 My wine is not exquisite, but the barrel is not empty.
 My plain lute, though stringless, is always in tune.
 My short flute, though a formless one, suits me well.
 Following Buddhas, adapting ourselves to circumstances, and our confusion acting in accord with one's position,
 these two phrases are the lifebuoy for us to pass over the sea of life.
 The paths of life are illimitable.
 If we desire perfection, all kinds of obstacles arise.
 But if we obey our destiny, we are free everywhere.
 Zen Rin Kushu
 The following are verses from a book called Zen Rin Kushu,
 verses which are collected from ancient Chinese and Japanese classics,
 and which are used by Zen monks to understand the spiritual discipline of the Koan,
 that is to say, their understanding of the ancient dialogues between Zen masters and their disciples.
 The translation of these verses is by Ruth Sasaki, from her book Zen Dust, published by Harcourt Brace and World.
 The cold kills you with cold. The heat kills you with heat.
 Above there isn't a piece of tile to cover his head. Below there isn't an inch of earth for him to stand on.
 The mouth of the Buddha
 When the mouth wants to speak about it, words fail. When the mind seeks affinity with it, thought vanishes.
 The sun and moon cannot illuminate it completely. Heaven and earth cannot cover it entirely.
 Sun and moon cannot illuminate it completely. Heaven and earth cannot cover it entirely.
 The lineage of the Buddha
 Though we are born of the same lineage, we don't die of the same lineage.
 When we are reviling one another, you may give me tit for tat. When we are spitting at one another, you may spew me with slobber.
 The deer hunter doesn't see the mountains. The miser doesn't see men.
 Last year's poverty was not real poverty. But this year's poverty is poverty indeed.
 The angels find no path on which to strew flowers. The heretics, secretly spying, find nothing to see.
 Last year's plum and this year's willow. Their color and fragrance are as of old.
 At the limits of heaven, the sun rises and the moon sets. Beyond the balustrade, the mountains deepen and the waters become chill.
 The stream and the path
 He sees only the winding of the stream and the twisting of the path. He does not know that already he is in the land of the immortals.
 [Music]
 [Music]
 He who would understand the meaning of Buddha nature must watch for the season and the causal relations.
 Every voice is the voice of Buddha. Every form is the Buddha form.
 [Music]
 The wild goose has no intention of leaving traces. The water has no thought of engulfing reflections.
 [Music]
 The instant you speak about a thing, you miss the mark.
 [Music]
 The badger and the white bull emit a glorious radiance.
 With no bird singing, the mountain is yet more still.
 [Music]
 In the spring beyond time, the withered tree flowers.
 When the snowy heron stands in the snow, the colors are not the same.
 [Music]
 A pair of monkeys are reaching for the moon in the water.
 When pure gold enters the fire, its color becomes still brighter.
 Endlessly rise the distant mountains.
 Blue, heaped upon blue.
 You must see for yourself the reed flowers drenched in moonlight.
 The marks are on the balance arm, not on the scale pan.
 Water from the edge of the bamboos flows out refreshing.
 Breeze from the heart of the flowers passes by, fragrant.
 [Music]
 [Music]


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