Last evening, I was able to attend a very special performance.
The Japanese man of Zen Renaissance, Kazuaki Tanahashi, aka Kaz, has recently finished a translation and introduction of the poems and life of Ryokan Taigu, a Zen Master Calligrapher and Poet (1758-1831), which is published by Shambala publications out of Boston, under the title of Sky Above, Great Wind, the title being derived from four ideograms that Ryokan once drew upon a child’s kite. Ryokan is somewhat of a folk hero in parts of Japan and is known for his playfulness, naïveté (perhaps in the manner of Socratic irony…) and unconventional approaches to life, signature characteristics of the more colorful characters in Zen lore.
A long-time friend and collaborator and sensei of the Antwerp Zen Dojo, Luc De Winter, a celebrated Flemish composer, set the poems to music with his original score. Further repeat collaborations with Els Mondelaers (mezzo) and Veerle Peeters (piano) resulted in what became last evening’s performance Songs From Five Scoop Hut, which refers to the five scoops of rice that from local legend was the ration of rice for a monk who had once lived in the hut that Ryokan inhabited on Mt. Kugami.
The result was quite intriguing, at times haunting and melancholy, at other times playful and enthusiastic, echoing the austere meditation of Ryokan complemented by his playful social aspect. Unlike many monastic traditions, in Zen, one is not to abandon the market place, but rather, to remain engaged (though perhaps with disinterest—not to be confused with apathy) with the world around you. Ryokan was a staple figure in the nearby town. His funeral was attended by many luminaries and admirers. He was a beloved part of the community, beyond the solitude of his simple hut dwelling.
The poems are, as Ryokan proclaimed, not “academic,” in the sense that they do not adhere to a system of poetics. For lack of a better word, they are free verse. They range from a simple stanza to slightly longer, expository poems. I was quite reminded of Robert Frost.
Out of respect for recent copyright and the hopes that this post may by the impetus for people to go out and get the full book, I will refrain from quoting a poem in full here.
Instead, I want to touch on two aspects that really spoke to me last night as I read his poems and listened to the performance.
One is from a poem, which talks about the fact that although each season has the moon, we are often most drawn to it in Autumn. The moon figures heavily in Zen stories and meditation, and one of the first images from Zen that I latched onto was the title of Kaz’s book about the writings of another well-known Zen figure, Dogen, which is called moon in a dewdrop, which I believe was the first book I got on Zen nearly 30 years ago. It reminded me of the William Blake image from “Auguries of Innocence,” which I chose for the theme of the blog I have written for my daughter. As such, the Ryokan’s poem talks about how there are “many” moons, though there is in fact, only one. It is the relative perspective that we all bring to something that gives the illusion that there are in fact more than moon, though the reality is quite the opposite. Even the distinction between the New Moon and the Full Moon is spurious at the core.
The other conceit that took hold of me was a poem that in essence is an extended paradox. It challenges us to reconsider what we hold as true today as perhaps being contradictory that which we believed yesterday, and vice versa. Furthermore, those who are too foolish will root themselves in their foolish pride and not adapt to the vicissitudes of life, and yet those too wise will continue to wander around, mired in self-inflicted Mind Games, both of them being incapable of finding the Way.
The final line of the performance last night was from a very brief poem, which concluded with,
“I am awake, as are all things in the world.”
Indeed.
