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Fuckin A - You have my heart for
these.
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Friday, May 13, 2005 10:47 AM
Subject: [FairfieldLife] Re:
Individuality: Outward Projection vs. Inner Subjective Sense of No Indiv.
Do
--- In [email protected],
akasha_108 <[EMAIL PROTECTED]...>
wrote:
> Yes, that was the silent extension of my thought: "unless one
is
> hanging a shingle out for something -- books, seminars,
students,
> attention."
>
> I have asked the question,
"what is the value (much less the validity)
> of the title
enlightenment? Some responses include, "it provides an
> ispiration to
others."
>
> I have never been able to fathom or digest that
one. Ones life, ones
> shared insights, ones presence -- such things
seem to be the fountain
> of of inspiration. Not some claim.
Sounds as if you would like Ikkyu. He was a Zen student
whose
master Kaso declared him enlightened and presented
him with an 'inka' or
official certificate of enlighten-
ment. Ikkyu took it, threw it to
the ground and stomped
on it, and then left the monastery, never to
return.
Instead, he spent his life in rather earthy pursuits
and
wrote some lovely poetry, some of which is below, as
translated by
John Stevens in his book "Wild Ways: Zen
Poems of
Ikkyu."
******************************
I Hate Incense
A
master's handiwork cannot be measured
But still priests wag their tongues
explaining the "Way" and babbling
about "Zen."
This old monk has never
cared for false piety
And my nose wrinkles at the dark smell of incense
before the Buddha.
******************************
A Fisherman
Studying texts and stiff meditation can make you lose your Original
Mind.
A solitary tune by a fisherman, though, can be an invaluable
treasure.
Dusk rain on the river, the moon peeking in and out of the
clouds;
Elegant beyond words, he chants his songs night after night.
******************************
My Hovel
The world
before my eyes is wan and wasted, just like me.
The earth is decrepit, the
sky stormy, all the grass withered.
No spring breeze even at this late
date,
Just winter clouds swallowing up my tiny reed hut.
******************************
A Meal of Fresh Octopus
Lots of arms, just like Kannon the Goddess;
Sacrificed for me,
garnished with citron, I revere it so!
The taste of the sea, just divine!
Sorry, Buddha, this is another precept I just cannot keep.
******************************
Exhausted with gay pleasures, I
embrace my wife.
The narrow path of asceticism is not for me:
My mind
runs in the opposite direction.
It is easy to be glib about Zen -- I'll
just keep my mouth shut
And rely on love play all the day long.
******************************
It is nice to get a glimpse of a
lady bathing --
You scrubbed your flower face and cleansed your lovely
body
While this old monk sat in the hot water,
Feeling more blessed
than even the emperor of China!
******************************
To Lady Mori with Deepest
Gratitude and Thanks
The tree was barren of leaves but you brought a
new spring.
Long green sprouts, verdant flowers, fresh promise.
Mori,
if I ever forget my profound gratitude to you,
Let me burn in hell
forever.
(Mori was a blind minstrel, and Ikkyu's young mistress)
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