Iaido dude

With great research assistance from Hiro. Jitsuden Docho (実傳道釣) is known to have been a disciple of Mokuan Shoto (木庵性瑫 1611-1684) through a lineage database maintained by the Dharma Drum Institute of Liberal Arts and from among a list of 250 Ōbaku-related ink works donated to Komazawa University by Mr. Mochizuk (i望月氏). There is scant additional biographical information. The inscription of the current work reads: 繙經參月心 (fān jīng, cān yuè xīn) Translating/reading the scriptures, contemplating the moon-like mind (literal meaning) Turning the pages of the sutras, I contemplate the mind that is like the moon (poetic meaning) What is intriguing about the current work is that the painting is nearly identical to a treasure in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art by Sokuhi Nyoitsu (another student of Mokuan) called "Reading a Sutra by Moonlight." The inscription in the latter suggests that enlightenment is not to be found in scripture such sutra (e.g. "words and letters"). This rejection of reliance on scripture is one of the principles of Zen Buddhism and attributed directly to the semi-lengendary Bodhidharma himself. Although not quite as crisp and precise as the version in The MET, it seems possible that the accompanying painting, which appears to be cut off at the bottom, is also by Sokuhi Nyoitsu, and that the signature and seals have simply been lost. Jitsuden and Sukohi were contemporaries in a small community of early Obaku monks who would have had many opportunities to meet and to interact or collaborate regularly. However, it may be that Jitsuden is suggesting that study of scripture can be a tool for achieving direct insight and awakening, much like koan study is used in Rinzai Zen practice for this purpose. If true, it would be a departure from traditional Zen belief and understanding. Would Sukohi have contributed the painting if this were the case? Perhaps this work is a deeper exploration of the role of study in facilitating the direct experience of kensho or satori. Exegesis of the two phrases of the inscription supports this hypothesis: 繙經 (fān jīng) — Engaging with sacred texts (specifically Sanskrit), but not merely intellectual study; "turning over" implies intimate, repeated handling, suggesting devotion or deep familiarity. 參月心 (cān yuè xīn) — In Ch'an/Zen Buddhism, "contemplating the moon" often refers to looking beyond words to direct insight. The famous metaphor says: the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon itself — teachings (sutras) are the finger; the enlightened mind is the moon. Here, cān yuè xīn suggests using scripture to investigate one's own original, luminous, and still nature — "mind-as-moon." The inspiration for the theme of "Reading a Sutra by Moonlight" may come from works such as this one with inscription by Yuxi Simin 玉谿思珉 (d. 1337). The painter is unknown. Prior to acquiring the present work, I have never seen another depiction of this theme except for a clear fake: In this one volume of sutra, The words have no clear meaning. The sun rises, the moon sets, When will I finish reading it? Inscribed by Simin of the Baofu [Temple]. [Seal]: Yuxi 只這一卷經，字字無分曉。 日出月又落，幾時看得了。 保福思珉讚。 [印]：玉谿

Also in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art is a calligraphy/painting from the 14th century showing the same pictorial theme of "Reading a Sutra by Moonlight" and the belief since the beginning of Ch'an Buddhism after the arrival of Bodhidharma (Daruma) in the 5th/6th century CE that enlightenment cannot be attained by study alone. Commentary from catalog: Chan/Zen art and philosophy blend strict rigor with playful irreverence. The dignified image of an aging master learnedly poring over an abstruse scripture is undercut by the poetic inscription, which suggests that true enlightenment may just as well be found elsewhere Yuxi Simin 玉谿思珉 (d. 1337), 5 columns in semi-cursive script, undated; 1 seal: In this one volume of sutra, The words have no clear meaning. The sun rises, the moon sets, When will I finish reading it? [1] Inscribed by Simin of the Baofu [Temple]. [Seal]: Yuxi 只這一卷經，字字無分曉。 日出月又落，幾時看得了。 保福思珉讚。 [印]：玉谿 [1] Trans. from Wen C. Fong, Beyond Representation: Chinese Painting and Calligraphy 8th–14th Century. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1992, p. 361.

My wife helped me translate Jitsuden's calligraphy: 繙經參月心 (fān jīng cān yuè xīn) Translating/reading the scriptures, contemplating the moon-like mind (literal meaning) or Turning the pages of the sutras, I contemplate the mind that is like the moon (poetic meaning) It's difficult to discern whether this is also a rejection of a reliance on "words and scriptures" like the work known to be by Sokuhi in which the monk is reading the sutra in the moonlight. Or could it be that Jitsuden is suggesting that study of scripture can be a tool for achieving direct insight and awakening, much like koan study is used in Rinzai Zen practice for this purpose. If the latter, it would be a departure from traditional Zen belief and understanding. Would Sukohi have contributed the painting if this were the case? Perhaps this work is a deeper exploration of the role of study in facilitating the direct experience of kensho or satori. 繙經 (fān jīng) — Engaging with sacred texts, but not merely intellectual study; "turning over" implies intimate, repeated handling, suggesting devotion or deep familiarity. 參月心 (cān yuè xīn) — In Chan/Zen Buddhism, "contemplating the moon" often refers to looking beyond words to direct insight. The famous metaphor says: the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon itself — teachings (sutras) are the finger; the enlightened mind is the moon. Here, cān yuè xīn suggests using scripture to investigate one's own original, luminous, and still nature — "mind-as-moon."

Thanks, Hiro. I have emailed Komazawa University to try to get connected to a curator at the Museum of Zen Culture and History. The relationship of Jitsuden Kocho to Mokuan Shoto, both Obako monks seems to be confirmed in two separate databases now. Sukohi Nyoitsu appears next to Mokuan, which is a known association, as both were students of Ingen. There are numerous collaborative works, truly wondrous, by Ingen, Mokuan, and Sukohi (known as the three brushes of Obaku), including the one below that were donated from a single American collection to The Metropolitan Museum of Art. The order from right to left is Ingen, Mokuan, and Sukohi. I saw these pieces in January while in NYC. They were not on display, but the assistant curator was kind enough to show them to me.

The translation of Sukohi Nyoitsu's inscription to the painting is marvelous. He suggests that the wisdom the monk seeks in the sutra resides elsewhere. This rejection of reliance on "words and scripture" is one of the principles of Zen Buddhism. Only personal experience of enlightenment is to be trusted. 月白紙一色　眼与墨俱黑 妙義个中圓　了亦不可得 Moon and white paper are of one color. The pupil of the eye and the ink are both black. The marvelous meaning, lodged in the circle, Is beyond comprehension. —Trans. Jonathan Chaves

Hiro, here is another related puzzle. The artist is said to be Jitsuden Docho (実傳道釣), whom I have confirmed to have been a disciple Mokuan Shoto (木庵性瑫) through a lineage database maintained by the Dharma Drum Institute of Liberal Arts https://authority-dev.dila.edu.tw//person/search.php?aid=A030882. The author of this work is a bit difficult to place historically because I can't seem to find any additional biographical information or other works of his for comparison of the mei and seals. In addition, although Jitsuden was well-regarded as a calligrapher, he is not known to be a painter. The subject matter highly resembles the same subject matter as a famous work called "Reading a Sutra Under the Moon," (The Met) which painted by Sokuhi Nyoitsu (即非如一)--a contemporary of both Mokuan and Jitsuden. Because the bottom is cut off, any mei and seals on the original are now lost. Still, I wonder if the painting is by Nyoitsu. It is clearly painted on silk cloth rather than paper. Inscription by Jitsuden Kocho. Painting possibly by Sokuhi Nyoitsu. Sukohi Nyoitsu

Thanks, Hiro. I have found additional evidence that Tokuho was not just a minor Obaku monk disciple of Kosen. As you have shown, he had two dharma heirs of his own. Here is another simplified lineage chart in Stephen Addiss' exhibit catalog "Obaku: Zen Painting and Calligraphy." In this volume of works belonging to American collections, another Kannon collaboration by Kosen/Tokuho is also featured. Here Kannon is depicted on a lotus rather than an outcropping above water. The translation is: Up on a green leaf, Kannon is quiet and peaceful, With eyes that hear sounds and ears that see colors-- How marvelous, how useful! Kosen's seals from this painting and two others in the catalog are shown here along with their translations.

Thanks, Steve. Greatly appreciated. Trying to decipher seal script is sometimes challenging. The Obaku monks from China practiced seal carving as an art form. Steven Addis has written that they tend to use the same set of three seals such that forgeries can be detected on close examination to determine if a seal(s0 appears altered. However, each artist also has a long career in most cases, using different seals depending on the context (different audience, different temple location, different artist name, etc.).

One of the interesting aspects of this is that Kosen used block/regular script throughout. His mei and the seals on the Kannon that I originally posted don't match other examples that I have found online and in books, but the top right seals of the two inscriptions for Kannon paintings appears very similar and contain the same characters carved on two distinct seals.

Tokuho Dosho became a disciple of Kosen at Manpuku-ji in 1670. So, I believe you have solved the mystery. It makes perfect sense that master and disciple collaborated on this work. I’m having a calligrapher/scholar in Singapore translate the kanji. smaller seal: Tokuho larger seal: Mei Dosho I have to learn from your reference sources how to identify seals that are based on seal script. Thanks so much.

Thanks, Hiro. I’ll follow up on your leads as to the identity of the painter through the seals you have tackled. I was surprised that he didn’t do the painting, as Kosen is admired as a fine painter as well, although his works are not numerous enough to know if he ever painted Kannon. Can you make out any of the brushwork?

Obaku Kōsen Shōton (Gaoquan Xingdun 高泉性潡 1633-1695) was born in Fuchow, China, and studied with Ingen. He would later become the 5th Abbot of Mampukuji. He ranks as among the very best Obaku calligraphers and was also an excellent painter, although there are a different set of seals on the bottom right, suggesting that he collaborated on this work. Would appreciate help with the translation, which is clearly kanji.

Absolutely. One of the concepts I have been taught is that what we paint evolves as our minds evolve, becoming truer as we discover the depths of our True Self/Original Nature--like a spiritual diary. I have seen motifs rendered before and after Zen masters had their enlightenment experiences; they often brush the same motif hundreds or thousands of times during their lives. There is greater and greater clarity. Keep at it!! If you would like to see examples of Enso painted by Zen masters through the ages, you should get the book "Enso--Zen Cirecles of Enlightenment" by my friend Audrey Seo. Here is my Kaisan Sokaku included in this lovely book. Compare Yamaoka Tesshu's mei from age 37-52 as his enlightenment deepened. They have even done an analysis of the ink grains in his strokes to show the complete absence of hesitation when the grains line up in one direction. He brushed more than 1 million works, as part of his practice, but also as a means of raising funds for a temple and providing for lay Zen practitioners. Yamaoka literally wanted to save all of the souls in Japan living in his time. I have works by him across this timeline. He died at age 52 of stomach cancer. It is said that he is the only known case of a Zen master from the Meiji who died upright in meditation.

Yagyu Shojo (柳生紹尚 1926-1989) was the Rinzai chief priest of Hotoku-ji (法徳寺) subtemple of Daitoku-ji (大徳寺). His calligraphy is prized among practitioners of Zen and Japanese tea ceremony (chinoyu). In this calligraphy, Yagyu brushes a phrase that is well-known in Japan: Meirekireki rododo 明歴々露堂々 Signature: 大徳法孫柳生紹尚 Daitoku Hoson Yagyu Shojo Seals: 大徳法孫 Daitokuji (prefatory); unclear; 紹尚 Shojo The literal meaning is "bright, clear, and unmistakable (明歴々), like dew in the open air (露堂々), with nothing to hide." 露 (dew, revealed) was also brushed by Tetsugyu in my collection as part of the phrase "Self Revealed." Figuratively, 明歴々露堂々 represents a state of mind where the truth is not hidden, but is completely evident and open to view--often in the concrete world of mountain streams, frost-covered leaves, and a lone flower growing through a crack in the concrete. It suggests living authentically, without pretense or obscurity. In Zen, it signifies that ultimate truth is not a hidden mystery but manifests openly and directly. If we don't perceive it, it is simply because we are not looking or our perception is clouded. The origin of this phrase is Zenrin Kushū (禅林句集), one of the compiled collections of "capping phrases (jakugo)" used in Zen koan training. In Rinzai Zen tradition, the practitioner is directed not to grasp a koan by fixing on its words or looking for intellectual explanations. One has to embody the koan so that self and koan are one. Once a particular koat has been completed, the roshi will instruct the practitioner to bring a verse or phrase that captures the insight of that koan. This phrase is called a jakugo. The sense is that although the awakened state of enlightened seeing can be likened to pure gold, undefiled by language ("not founded by words or letters"), in order to be conveyed to others, it has to be mixed with the sand of language (i.e. jakugo). I especially appreciate the beauty of his semi-cursive (gyosho) rendering of 露 in the scroll, as compared to the block/regular (kaisho) writing on the tomobako. There is an Obaku/late Ming Dynasty influence that also reminds me of Mokuan, another master calligrapher and disciple of Ingen.

I'm a Zen student of the Chosei Zen Dojo in Madison, WI that follows the Chozen-ji Rinzai lineage that was established by Tenshin Tanouye Rotaishi and his teacher Omori Sogen as the first training monastery outside of Japan. Later, Kenneth Kushner Roshi founded Chosei Zen on the mainland. Gordon Greene Roshi, current Abbot and my teacher, then established the Spring Green Dojo nearby as a rural training community. I live in Florida, but do both virtual and in-person intensive training with Chosei Zen and private training with Gordon. We all practice a martial art and a Japanese fine art to enhance our Zen training because it's an extremely physical practice through posture and breathing. Tanouye Roshi believed that we could enter Zen through the body and that "Zen without the accompanying physical experience is nothing but empty discussion." In my case these physical practices are kyudo, iaido, and shado. When we do calligraphy, often copying from a manual by Yamaoka Tesshu that he brushed for his wife, it feels like martial arts. The brush is like a sword. Breathing and focus are critical. Ink is laid down not through the wrist, but through the entire body. It is said that painting the Enso is one of the most illuminating activities for a Zen calligrapher. The result is a direct reflection of the state of one's mind, here and now, in this very moment. When I gaze on the Enso works displayed in my home, I feel the presence of Zen masters and their teachings (Nakahara Nantenbo in particular), stretching back 400 years and even more. The transmission of the mind-seal (inka shomei) from master to disciple ensures that the experience of enlightenment and the teaching of dharma is an unbroken strand that reaches all the way back to Siddhartha Gautama.

Chūhō Sōu (宙宝宗宇, 1759-1838) was the 418th chief priest of Daitokuji Temple in Kyoto. His Buddhist name was Chūhō, his given name was Sou, and he was known as Shogetsu (昇月), which means "Rising Moon." He trained under Sokudo Soki, the 406th bishop of Daitokuji Temple and was a highly revered Japanese Zen master, calligrapher, potter, and tea connoisseur. Chūhō admired and was influenced by his contemporary Jiun Onko. Two works below are excellent examples of his unique style and deep comprehension of the Zen aesthetic and the enlightened mind. This is the 3rd work by Chūhō Sōu in my collection. Here he signs as Shōgetsu rōsō (松月老僧), meaning "Old priest 'Moonlight on the Pine Trees.'" The colophon that appears at the bottom is found on some of his brush works and crafts such as tea scoops. Together with his characteristic seal, this work is confirmed to be authentic. I now have seven Enso paintings with and without calligraphy by notable Zen masters from the 18th to 21st centuries. The artists start painting at different positions of the circle, but always going clockwise. The two most contemporary ones start at the bottom. This one is unique because the mei and stamp are within the Enso, as if to say that the artist is also infathomable and fathomable, empty and full, and infinite within the finite. Here are other Enso in my collection. From left to right: Kaisan Sokaku (1768-1846), Kogan Gengei (1748-1821), Nakahara Nantenbo (1839-1925), Tachibana Daiki (1898-2005), Hosoai Katsudo (1919-1985), and Kobayashi Taigen (1938-). I consider unadorned iron plate tsuba to be "Enso" that you can hold in your hand and carry in your pocket.

This is a new one for me—a Nantenbo Kannon painting. It’s a common subject matter of the Bodhisattva of compassion who hears and sees all suffering. Just the first time I’ve seen Nantenbo tackle this subject from among thousands of this prolific Zen master’s works that I have studied. Translation is a bit uncertain to me. Kannon was the patron Bodhisattva of fishermen who founded many seaside temples dedicated to her (actually originated as a male figure). This is a touching and unusually personal portrayal of Kannon, sitting in a kind of watery setting with branches around her, gazing down and to the side. She is usually sitting on a giant lotus pedestal, rather regal and all powerful as she emanates compassion like a superpower. This is a quiet scene. I wonder if it is reflected in the calligraphy. I do know that the kanji for Kanzeon bosatsu is 觀世音菩薩. Thanks in advance for your help.

I hear you. The 18 year old in me is frustrated to find himself in a 63 year old body. However, I am sometimes surprised at how much less pain I feel after intensive training. I did a 4 day zen intensive training recently consisting of 8 hours a day of zazen, chanting, and hojo walking. I was pretty convinced I couldn’t do that much sitting meditation without severe pain. I actually had less pain after the first day. Very encouraging.

Hi, John. There is a reason I have an archery backstop. I’ve only ever shot through the screen of the covered patio once—evidenced by a small exit hole. My wife doesn’t know about this. Imagine the skill it takes to his a smaller target at 28 meters standard distance for what is called enteki. I’ll be doing that next weekend. Yes, as a general rule in most styles the prescribed distance between the feet is the length of the arrow. If you use an arrow that is too long (it should just be long enough so that the tip is close to the string at full draw), the distance between the feet will be too be too great and the stance too wide to maintain good balance and support. We didn’t used to live so long a century ago. Now we deal with the wear and tear of life with advanced age and morbid obesity grinding down joints and the lower back. A lot of what I do for older patients is address painful orthopedic issues and neuropathy from long-standing diabetes.

I started practicing kyudo in Boston in 2005 every weekend for about 1 years. With my move to Florida, practice was quite irregular. From 2015-2025, I didn't practice at all due to chronic pain from a nerve injury for which no form of therapy including surgery and every procedure and medication known to man provided even a little benefit. I stopped Zen practice. I stopped iaido practice. In my desperation and state of heightened anxiety, I convinced myself that the next procedure would be the magic bullet. However, even partial relief never came. There was no end to severe pain every waking moment. Then I realized that I had no weakness, no muscle atrophy, and no ongoing acute tissue injury. Every imaging and nerve conduction study was normal. The pain was just a loop that had taken up occupancy in my brain--just neurotransmitters running amuck. Pain-->anxiety-->more pain-->more anxiety, etc. I started to remind myself that there was no 5-alarm fire. The anxiety died down. About a year ago, I resumed daily kyudo, iaido, and Zen practice. Next weekend, I'm going to my first kyudo intensive in the past 20 years in nearby Eustis, FL. https://www.facebook.com/events/1392050959279976/?ref_source=NEWS_FEED Here I am in 2008. And here is a video I just shot yesterday. It's been a long journey...

Thanks, Kevin. The iaito I favor these days is wrapped in leather tsukaito. I have just gotten quite accustomed to how it feels and overall aesthetics. I don't have sweaty hands, so I've never had an issue with the durability of silk or leather. I put in only one mekugi initially, but have decided to put in a second one for stability. And this time I'll be careful not to drill into the tsukaito on the other side. Live and learn... If you are still following me on my web site, I just finished the Kyudo page, although I have to put in a better demonstration video when we get better weather next week. It's been a bit wet in Alachua county.

Good catch! I left glue residue on the surface of the black eel skin during my first wrapping attempt that was not covered well when I switched to a different wrapping style, so I had to reverse the menuki placement to cover this up. Some right-handed swordsman actually prefer this configuration. It potentially changes the feel of the grip (menuki against fingers vs. palms) that may be advantageous for specific ryu that are practiced, but I'm not sure if it will make much difference for me. There are traditional wrapping styles such as gyu kawa kumiage maki that don't even use menuki, substituting woven strips for the middle 2/3 of the tsuka. Ditto for the shonai zuka style that utilizes vertical wrap (not diamonds) in the middle 2/3 to provide a firm grip. Kojidai asaito makiage zuka uses a hemp wrap to completely cover the entire tsuka and is devoid of menuki. This blade and tsuka were intended to be slightly shorter than what I use for iaido because I wante to do tameshigiri with a less wieldy and somewhat lighter katana for speed and safety during noto. My sense is that master swordsman prefer slightly shorter shinken for the same reason. I wear a leather glove on my left hand when the blade is quite long and the noto is more challenging. I value my fingers! Here is the menpuki moyo iri style for tsukamaki that I used. Tying the knot is the most challenging step because of the thickness of the leather tsukaito.

Shibayama Zenkei (1894-1974) was appointed the abbott of Nanzen-ji of the Rinzai sect in 1959 and was one of the most important Zen masters and scholars of the 20th century. He taught at Hanazono University, published the influential commentaries on the Ten Oxherding Pictures and the collection of classic koans called the Mumonkan (Gateless Gate), and taught in America starting 1965 when he was an active Kansho (abbott) at the persuasive invitation of the Zen scholar D.T. Suzuki. Shibayama had a personal appreciation for art, befriending haiga and literati artists and creating his own works. In particular, he had a special admiration for the paintings and calligraphy of Zen Master Hakuin Ekaku. This particular work shows his interest in depicting not only traditional Zen and Buddhist subject matter, but also Japanese folk themes and aspects of everyday life with which he believe he could reach a general audience with his Zen teaching: 渓邊霜葉紅 (keiben sōyō kō) By the mountain stream, the frost-covered leaves are red In Zen, nature is not viewed as a metaphor for something else; it is viewed as the direct manifestation of the Dharma (Buddhist truth). This phrase captures the essence of "thusness" (tathātā). Unlike Western poetry, which might use the red leaf to symbolize sadness, passing time, or romantic longing, in Zen this line is considered a direct presentation. The stream is just the stream. The frost is just the frost. The red is just the red. Zen emphasizes that enlightenment is not found by escaping the world but by seeing the world clearly, without the overlay of conceptual thought. The brilliance of the red leaves against the cold stream is a moment of reality fully revealed. In Zen, 渓邊霜葉紅 does not carry a symbolic "meaning" to be decoded. It is an expression of non-dual reality. It points to the fact that the natural world—in its stark contrast of cold water and bright leaves—is already the complete expression of enlightenment, requiring no addition, subtraction, or interpretation. Like his contemporary Chuho Sou, his calligraphic style was most influenced by the works of Jiun Onko, whose terse, blunt style of brushwork he highly admired. This is most evident in the dynamic use of "flying white" and the almost agitated energy of the brush as it dances across the composition, leaving the surface with gestural energy resulting in broad open tips of the brush strokes. He had an early seminal experience while attending a lecture by the Zen Master Mamiya Eishu during a time when he was exploring Christianity and other spiritual paths. Eishu saild that it would be nice to be able to cover the whole world in leather and be able to walk anywhere without dirtying or hurting one's feet, but it was better to cover the soles of one's own feet with leather and to live an authentic life dedicated to Zen training rather than idealistically trying to change the whole world. Shibayama would later write that about 600 years ago, in Japan, a famous Zen Master Sanko was a teacher of the emperor of the time. A monk asked Master Sanko one day: "Please show me the essence of Zen." Sanko at once replied and said, "Look under your feet (shokokyakka)!"1 Shibayama continues, "Look under your feet!" means "Where are you standing now?" This tells us that Zen does not exist apart from the very spot where we now stand. For Sanko, there was no place where Zen was not present. He actualized satori (sudden enlightenment) by way of occupied space. Shibayama's life was interrupted by the war. He believed that defeat was inevitable, that only Zen and Japanese culture could survive, and that their study could restore his country. Following the death of his wife and child in 1945, he took vows of celibacy and became the Zen Master of Nanzen-ji. In a lecture in the early 1960s at the Society for International Cultural Relations (Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai) in Kyoto, he discussed the differences between Eastern and Western religion: "I am told that the word 'religion' etymologically comes from a Latin word which means 'to bind together' and implies that religion consists in the relegation between God who is the Creator and hman beings who are the created...In Buddhism the word kiye is used as a term corresponding to 'faith' in the West. Kiye means 'to return to the fundamental truth and trust wholeheartedly in it.' This shows that the character of self-reliance forms the main current in Buddhism, and the ultimate goal or purpose of 'shukyo' (religion) is to reach 'gedatsu' (deliverance from worldly passions) or 'satori' (spiritual awakening) rather than 'salvation.'" He died on August 29, 1974 shortly after the publication of Zen Comments on the Mumonkan." His final poem utilizes the same motif of filling the well with snow that Mukurai used in his death poem: Carrying snow and filling the well, I have lived for eighty-one years. Truly there is nothing special-- I sleep with limbs outstretched. 1Shibayama, Z. A Flower Does Not Talk--Zen Essays. Charles E. Tuttle Company, Inc. Rutland, Vermont & Tokyo, Japan (1970), pg. 98.

Here is the final product. I'm quite happy with the outcome of my freshman project. I changed the tsukaito wrapping style to the less ambitious menpumaki moyo iri style and finished it off with a custom-made silk sageo. There is a slight misalignment in the seating of the fuchi against the koiguchi because the drilling of hole in the tang for the mekugi is slightly off, thereby changing the angle slightly. During drilling, I accidentally drilled into the tsukaito on the opposite side of the tsuka, requiring repair with Seiwa glossy water-based leather finishing agent. I really should have done all of this before I wrapped the tsuka. I may redo the entire tsuka/tsukamaki and drill new hole in the tang to correct all of these mistakes. I need to shim some wood veneer into the sides of the opening of the koiguichi to tighten the seating of the blade and eliminate slight side-to-side rattling. Otherwise, the saya turned out quit well.

Chūhō Sōu (宙宝宗宇, 1759-1838) was the 418th chief priest of Daitokuji Temple in Kyoto. His Buddhist name was Chūhō, his given name was Sou, and he was known as Shogetsu (昇月), which means "Rising Moon." He trained under Sokudo Soki, the 406th bishop of Daitokuji Temple and was a highly revered Japanese Zen master, calligrapher, potter, and tea connoisseur. Chūhō admired and was influenced by his contemporary Jiun Onko. Selecting from unusual subject matter that seems quite typical of Chūhō, he brushes a line that comes from an early Ch'an story of an encounter between Ch'an Master Zhaozhou Congshen (趙州從諗, 778–897) and his disciple Wenyan (文偃) or possibly Wenyuan (文遠), as recorded in Jǐngdé Chuándēng Lù (景德傳燈錄), or "The Transmission of the Lamp" completed in 1004 CE (Volume 10, in the entry for Zhaozhou Congshen). This vast text is a foundational history of the Ch'an lineage and contains biographical entries for countless masters, including Zhaozhou. It is also found in "The Recorded Sayings of Zen Master Joshu" (translated by James Green). One day, the Master Zhaozhou saw his disciple Wenyan bowing to a statue of the Buddha. Zhaozhou walked over and struck him with his staff. Zhaozhou: "What are you doing?" Wenyan: "I am paying homage to the Buddha!" Zhaozhou: "Is the Buddha someone to be paid homage to?" Wenyan: "Paying homage to the Buddha is a good thing (好事) ." Zhaozhou: "好事不如無 (A good thing is not as good as no thing)." The last phrase originates from the 增廣賢文 (Augmented Collection of Wise Sayings), a popular Chinese didactic text from the Ming Dynasty that is based on a Taoist principle of "福禍相依" (fortune and misfortune depend on each other): 庭前生瑞草, 好事不如無 (Tíng qián shēng ruì cǎo, hǎo shì bù rú wú) When auspicious grass grows in front of the court, a good thing is not as good as nothing In Zhaozhou's hands, 好事不如無 becomes "A good thing is not as good as no thing." This is a powerful lesson on non-attachment, a core principle in Zen/Ch'an. The horizontal strokes in the 2nd and 5th characters anchor the contrasting halves that are separated by 不. Non-Attachment: Even the act of doing a "good thing" (like bowing to Buddha or giving charity) can become a spiritual obstacle if you cling to the identity of being a "good person" or if you do it to gain merit. The Master is teaching that the state of "nothing" (無) or "no thing" is higher than the state of doing "good things" with a grasping mind. The Trap of Intent: The teaching warns against performing good deeds with a "seeking" mind—doing them for the sake of reward, merit, or to bolster one's ego as a "good practitioner." Zhaozhou uses this sudden, shocking action (striking Wenyan) to jolt Wenyan out of this conceptual trap Beyond Duality: Where there is "good," there is "bad." The phrase encourages the practitioner to move beyond this dualistic thinking into the true nature of emptiness, where there is no need to cling to the label of "good" or "bad." "No Thing" (無) as True Peace: The phrase "好事不如無" points to a state of "no-thing-ness" or wu shi (無事). This doesn't mean doing nothing, but rather acting without attachment, without a self-conscious focus on the doer or the deed. It is the state of natural, effortless action that flows from an empty and peaceful mind. Signature: Daitokuji Chūhō Sōu Seals: Chūhō, Nichigatsu cho