Night Boat. Alan Spence

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СКАЧАТЬ was set a number of seemingly menial tasks – scrubbing the floors, sweeping the courtyard, scouring out the rice-pots in the kitchen. With long sessions of zazen – seated meditation – in between, beginning early in the morning, the work filled my time and I was glad of the routine. But right from the beginning I hankered after more.

      One day Sokudo told me someone wanted to see me, a respected guest who was passing through. He led me to the shrine room and bowed to the old man seated there. I recognised him straight away – he was Kyushinbo, a wandering monk with a fearsome reputation. When I was a child he had often stayed at my parents’ home on his way along the Tokaido. They were grateful to have him visit and to offer him hospitality.

      Once he had told me I would achieve great things when I grew up. Remember the path is long and arduous, he told me. Shakyamuni was six years in the mountains. Bodhidharma was nine years at Shao-lin. You must persevere.

      He was famous for chanting the Nembutsu and he played the shakuhachi with a wild spine-chilling energy. It was rumoured he could fly through the air and he was reputed to be over a hundred years old.

      Now here he was, seated in front of me. I bowed and pressed my forehead to the floor, didn’t get up till he addressed me.

      So, he said, young crane. You have embarked on your journey.

      I didn’t know what to say. I nodded and stood silent.

      One time alone, he said. One place alone. Remember this precept. Be one-pointed in your practice. One time, one place.

      I bowed deep and he continued.

      I have three pieces of advice, he said, and I stood, ready to receive his guidance.

      First, do not waste food. When you have finished eating, clean your bowl by rinsing it with warm water, then drink the water from the bowl.

      This made sense. It was wise, and frugal, though perhaps not the kind of instruction I was expecting.

      Second, he said, never piss standing up. Always crouch down.

      Yes, I said. I mean, no.

      Third, he said, never piss or shit facing north.

      Again I was at a loss, not knowing how to respond.

      Follow these instructions rigorously, said the old man, and you will live a long healthy life.

      Remember Shakyamuni, he said. Remember Bodhidharma. Persevere.

      The interview was over. I bowed and backed out of the room.

      Later Sokudo spoke to me.

      An unexpected blessing, he said.

      Yes, I said. I am sure his advice will be . . . useful.

      He laughed.

      Persevere.

      More than anything I was eager to read the Lotus Sutra. The teaching of Nichiren had sustained my mother all her life. I could see her face, smiling at me. I remembered the feeling at that puppet show, the tale of Nisshin Shonin walking through fire, the power and intensity of the whole audience joining in the chant. Namu Myoho Renge Kyo. Now I could read the sutra for myself.

      I was alone in the library, the book on the table in front of me, lifted down from its special place, unwrapped. I had lit an incense stick. I kneeled in reverence and gratitude. I chanted. Namu Myoho Renge Kyo. Outside, a bird sang, a hototogisu. I bowed and opened the book, began to read.

      It was hard work.

      It wasn’t just that the Chinese characters were difficult to read, it was the words themselves, the density and weight of the thing.

      It began well enough, clearly and simply.

      Thus have I heard.

      Then it told of the Buddha dwelling on Mount Gridhrakuta, Vulture Peak, with a great gathering of Bhikshus, twelve thousand in all.

      Their names were Ajnatakaundinya, Mahakashyapa, Uruvilvakashyapa . . .

      I read with a sense of panic, fearing it would list all twelve thousand names. But it stopped after twenty or thirty, adding . . . and other great Arhats such as these.

      I breathed easier, read on as it indicated the others in attendance – eighty thousand Bodhisattvas, thousands of Gods, Dragon Kings, Asura Kings, all with their hundreds of thousands of followers.

      I read how they all walked round the Buddha, paying him homage, and he then spoke this sutra, The Great Vehicle of Limitless Principles. Then there fell from the heavens an endless rain of flowers – mandarava, mahamandarava, mahamanjushaka.

      I intoned the names. I could picture the blossoms, imagine breathing in their fragrance.

      Then Buddha emitted from between his brows a white light illuminating all the worlds. Manjushri stepped forward and spoke in verse.

      The Buddha will speak the Dharma Flower Sutra.

       All of you should now understand

      And with one heart fold your hands and wait.

       The Buddha will let fall the Dharma rain

      To satisfy all those who seek the Way.

      It had taken me a whole afternoon to read the introduction, just to get to the point where the teaching would begin. My head ached as if held tight in an iron clamp. I chanted once more, Namu Myoho Renge Kyo. I bowed and closed the book.

      Perhaps it was because I was not as accomplished in Chinese as I had thought. Perhaps it was the endless lists of names and designations, the Bodhisattvas and Arhats, the Gods and Asuras. Whatever the reason, my progress through the text was slow.

      The second chapter spoke of the Buddha’s Expedient Devices, the way he taught. Tricks of the trade, I thought, then stopped myself, inwardly asking the Buddha’s forgiveness for such irreverence.

      Expedient Devices.

      He spoke at length – at great length – about the Dharma, wonderful beyond conception, profound and hard to understand. He made this clear, over and over, the difficulty of grasping the truth, even for the greatest of them.

      Thousands of beings present, listening to this, bowed and took their leave.

      Buddha spoke of their overweening pride, said they claimed to know what they did not know. Then he said he had shaken the tree and cleared its branches and leaves so only the trunk remained.

      Those who can hear the Dharma are rare, he said.

      And yet . . .

      A few pages further on he said that through these Expedient Devices СКАЧАТЬ