なむあみだぶつ
Namu Amida Butsu
Coming from the West
Namu Amida Butsu
Coming from the West
Like a tropic wind, chuffing
Scraggly-mane lion
Old Hermit Badpenny himself
Sun-weathered out of the blue
Unhurried lion
Bellyful of digested sheep
A perfect wonder
The world is vast and wide.
Settled by the Third Khandaka,
a period of rest and residence
during the rainy season was
customary for itinerant Buddhist
monks and priests—this period
began the 16thday of the 4thlunar
month and ended the 15thday of
the 7thlunar month, corresponding
to a period of roughly 12 weeks
from mid-May to mid-August known
as the summer retreat.
It was a time to seek out new
teachers, see old friends, make
new ones, and most importantly
reflect on one’s own path—
the Way, Ch’an.
Traveling alone from India,
Bodhidharma brought Ch’an
Buddhism to China in the late
5thcentury. However, Ch’an
Buddhism would not flourish
in China for another 200 years.
Buddhism had spread to Japan
by way of Korea, but it was not
until around 1200 that Ch’an,
known as Zen, became a distinct
school recognizing Bodhidharma,
called Daruma, as its founder.
There is a notable portrait of
Bodhidharma painted by Japanese
Zen monk Sesson Shukei simply
titled Daruma from the 1500s.
There is, in the British Museum,
a very similar portrait once
thought to be a Sesson but now
regarded as a fake.
side by side
Daruma Daruma eye
no birth, no death
Two views. One face. One truth.
Well Come!
Old Hermit Badpenny spends the
rainy season at his home Hermitage
Hermitage, so named because it is
easy to remember and easy to forget.
Hut like an acorn
Heart strong like an oak, weathered
Straw hat and raincoat
No coming. No going. No visitors.
In this rain, a bowl of hot tea
would be nice. Rainwater makes
especially good tea too. Clouds
like bees collecting nectar here
and there—drops sweet as honey.
Each drop falling nowhere else.
Falling on you.
In my hut no coins are kept.
Have a cup of tea—
You cannot acquire what you have
Not tasted
Boiled egg
In a jar of vinegar—
Eat it with salt
Rujing said sit. With stillness,
many things become clear.
Rainy season
Mosses round roots thick and green
Trackless path of birds
Like a reflection dissolved by
ripples of a single raindrop:
Two views. One face. One truth.
Like the seasons, the sound
of the bell notes the time,
summoning monks to meditation.
Each monk meditating on the same
thing in his own way.
Clear the way—individuals
in greater unity. Chanting—
individuals in higher harmony.
Fireflies dusk stars dawn
Such blessings deep in our hearts
Sound as temple bell
The sound of the bell and the echo.
Two views. One face.
The sound of one hand.
One slapping truth.
No coming. No going.
Going and coming
I expect no visitors
Only a great wind
The rainy season is long and muddy.
Clouds and waters, swelling and growing,
flowers bud,
flowers bloom without complaint.
31 Syllables on Suffering
Gone, gone beyond, gone
Altogether gone beyond—
A wakened flower!
Posy form emptiness form
A flower I present you
Mountainside slopes wild
with azaleas. Thousands
of flowers. One mountain.
Thousands of faces. One people.
Your face. Face of a stranger.
One face. Two views. One truth.
The world is vast and wide—
All in this mustard seed.
zen-ji-go-ji: you hold dear treasure
So very dear
Mustard seed flowering
Mudra of mountain
zen-ji-go-ji: I keep no coins in my hut.
Hold dear your treasure
with open hands. Moment
to moment falling nowhere else.
I have listened to rain
Touching wisps serenade
Ravaging ages
All my life I listened to rain
Shaping these mountains into hearts
Moments are fleeting and lasting…
Your face. Face of a stranger.
Moment to moment falling.
Let kindnesses fall nowhere else.
Having nothing, yet possessing all—
All in this mustard seed.
So very dear
Humility binds, frees all,
Each, every—one
Nothing above nor below
Breath, light, goodwill, peace—float
So very dear
Knell of gratitude, hills
Echoing—hope hope
So very dear
Beginning of a sweetness
Rays sweet, warming sun
Rainy seasons come and go.
In clear, clean light
Matters of everyday life
So very dear
Flowers bloom without complaint.
Clutter your mind with abundant
blossoms and luxuriant flowers.
So very dear
Sermon of the flowers
Beauty beyond sense
I did not hold up a flower.
Everything delivers a sermon
from its true nature and that
sermon is ordinary mind.
Everyday reverence.
So very dear
Forehead of the sun touching
Your own forehead
Cherished temples, very dear
Touching foreheads with the sun
Home in world and wild
Living stones thrive with water
Rocks need tea and rice
Having had the rice, I am ready for a
leisurely nap.
No coming. No going.
So very dear
Roads that know me as I am
Walking
With heart full—
Lying on the ground
See Old Hermit Badpenny
Wishing you good luck
The incense stick is gone,
but the fragrance lingers.
Sitting long and getting tired,
another cup of tea would be nice.
Maybe you acquired the taste.
If not, try standing in the rain.
Purify your mind.
Buddha spoke the words “so much”
to someone standing silently before
him. With that the great mercy and
compassion of the world honored one
led to realization.
Startled geese rising
Ten thousand things disappear
In a sloping glance
The clap of the bell
Shakes to earth dewdrops like chains
Breaking with the dawn
Longevity
Simple wildflowers
Incense, palms together, mind
At ease, calm, peaceful…
That is what I heard: worry,
Wrath, suffering, early death.So very dear
Old Hermit Badpenny himself
Nodding and laughing
Eccentric at heart
Himself Old Hermit Badpenny
Hermit of the hills
Everywhere you are is true
Gold and yellow leaves
The world is vast and wide.
Thinking on Jeta Grove, Fifth month
of the First year of Genko [1331].
Moon as it is, rivers flood sky.
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