here is a poem i presented to my teacher, ryotan tokuda roshi, on my monk ordination day twenty-four years ago in a small rundown temple he founded the year before perched on a cliffside in alpes-de-haute-privence in south of france. today, the temple is more rundown and in disrepair than it was then. having a beautiful temple was the least of my teacher's worries, having many disciples around him was an even lesser concern. he actually did what he could to have the least number of people around. when we were just a handful to sit a sesshin it made him happy and he would say: this feels inimate. when people started gathering around him and the numbers would grow, he would disappear for a while and would only come back when most people had left out of disappointment. was this his way of testing people's determination to practice? maybe, i'm not sure.
yet, what we found in him gave us a taste of the practice of ancient chan masters one can read about in the age-old records left in the tradition.
i went to his room, uncertain and a bit nervous as what to expect, and handed him the poem the morning of that momentous day. he unfolded the paper, slowly read the words then looked up at me and said: beautiful ! no explanations, no questions, just that one word. silence filled the room. after some time i left as he had nothing to say.
that he liked the poem was touching and made me happy. being confirmed by your teacher for your supposed understanding of the path was not a concern of mine at that point and never became one in later years. a part of me felt then and still feels today that i never had a spiritual realization or awakening experience of any significance that would sollicite the need to have someone's validation or endorsement of it. then, there is also a sense that whatever insight you may have had, however profound or deep it may have appeared to you, is not something you would want to make much of anyway. you can't make a big deal of your spiritual journey if your deepest intuition tells you that none of the experiences has taken you antwhere beyond the realm of the ordinary, can you?
after all these years i still don't know what it was he appreciated the most; the poem on it's own merit or what it expressed of someone's insight into an important aspect of zen teachings through a personal expression of the don't know mind, or maybe both. no, i still don't know. zen, not zen, i still don't know.
is this the unknowing zen masters have talked about throughout the ages? still don't know, still just inquiring.
still inquiring the unfathomable depth of not knowing.
the inquiry becomes unfathomable when the one who inquires is forgotten in the not knowing.
forgotten in not knowing, released by the inquiry.
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