Podcasts about Lotus Sutra

Jody Hojin Kimmel, Sensei – ZCNYC – 6/14/26 – The Buddha said, “All things are ultimately liberated; they have no abiding place.” In this koan, the teenage Satsujo, completely devoted to practicing the Dharma, was sitting in her room when her father peeked in and saw her seated on a copy of the Lotus Sutra. Shocked, he shouted, “What are you doing sitting on this precious scripture?” Satsujo replied, “How is this wonderful sutra different from my ass? Quickly! What is this body-heart-mind before thoughts of sacred and profane arise?” Hojin Sensei uses this encounter to invite us to question the familiar divisions and fixed ideas in which we can become stuck—those habits of mind that separate sacred from ordinary and can become a source of confusion and suffering. (From Hidden Lamp: Stories from Awakened Women #72 – “Satsujo Sits on the Lotus Sutra”. Japan, 18th century.)

Here is a short explanation you can use to promote or introduce the lecture:Why do Nichiren Shū Buddhists chant the Lotus Sutra? This lecture explores the meaning and purpose of one of the central practices of Nichiren Buddhism: reciting the Lotus Sutra and chanting Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō (Odaimoku). Together we will examine how Nichiren Shōnin understood the Lotus Sutra as a direct path for ordinary people to awaken their inherent Buddha nature in everyday life. Through discussion of Buddhist teachings, tradition, and practical application, participants will discover how chanting is not merely repetition, but a discipline that unites body, breath, voice, and mind while cultivating wisdom, compassion, resilience, and inner transformation. Whether new to Buddhist practice or a long-time practitioner, this lecture offers an accessible introduction to the spiritual meaning and benefits of Lotus Sutra practice in Nichiren Shū.

SHINDOKU – The Sacred Sound of the Dharma examines how Buddhist teachings moved from the oral recitation traditions of India into the scriptural and chanting culture of Tang Dynasty China, and how these traditions were preserved and transmitted into Japan.Together we will explore the meaning of Shindoku—the traditional Japanese reading of Buddhist scriptures—and Shōmyō, the sacred art of Buddhist chant. The lecture will also clarify the historical role of Grand Master Dengyō Daishi (Saichō), who did not introduce Shindoku itself to Japan but transmitted Tang Dynasty liturgical and recitation traditions that deeply shaped Japanese Tendai Buddhism.From there, we will examine how Nichiren Shōnin inherited this world of scripture, chant, and devotion and revealed the heart of the Lotus Sutra through the practice of Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō.This lecture invites participants to see chanting not simply as reading words, but as entering a living lineage of sacred sound—a tradition carried through generations and still embodied in practice today.

In this episode, we explore one of the most surprising teachings in the Lotus Sūtra: the idea that the Buddha didn't become a Buddha under the Bodhi tree, but awakened countless ages ago. His birth, enlightenment, and even his passing are presented as skillful means and are compassionate appearances meant to guide us, not limits on who he is.This teaching reminds us that awakening / enlightenment isn't distant or rare. It's timeless, ever‑present, and something we can uncover in ourselves right now.Contact Alan: alanpeto.com/contactPodcast Homepage: alanpeto.com/podcastPodcast Disclaimer: alanpeto.com/legal/podcast-disclaimer

Send us Fan MailRev. Jodo Cliff Clusin speaks on Chapter Two of the Lotus Sutra, entitled Tactful Means.

Send us Fan MailRev. Jodo Cliff Clusin gives a talk on Chapter One of The Lotus Sutra.

Beginning with this segment of the UnMind podcast and DharmaByte column, I want to depart from commenting on the content of my Substack postings, which feature chapters from a manuscript we anticipate publishing in future, working title: "Speaking With One (Zen) Voice." It is subtitled: "25 Centuries of Buddha-Dharma; 3 Countries of Origin; 9 Dharma Masters; 2 Dozen Teachings; with Commentary by an American ZenElder." Long subtitle, but at least it lets you know what your are in for. Instead, in going forward, I want to introduce you to some of the most mysterious and compelling implications of Buddhism that I have come across in my studies, admittedly limited to those texts that are available in English translation. The first is the startling claim that Buddha enjoys an infinite life span throughout eternity, as testified to in the Lifespan Chapter of the Lotus Sutra, considered to be his last teaching. This use of "buddha" should, I think, be understood in both senses: as it relates to the historical "fully-awakened one," his teachings about reality and his place in it—Buddha with a capital "B"; as well as its application to human consciousness—buddha with a small "b." The latter, generalized as buddha-nature, true of all sentient beings. This message implies that in our conventional wisdom—philosophical and religious beliefs surrounding the "Great Matter" of birth and death—we are making a kind of category error as to first causes and final conclusions. Let's take a look at what a cursory bit of research online has to say about this phrase, consulting Master AI: AI Overview — category errorA category mistake (or category error) is a logical fallacy where an object, property, or concept is mistakenly assigned to a category to which it does not belong. Popularized by philosopher Gilbert Ryle, it often involves treating abstract concepts as if they were physical objects, or mixing up different logical levels, such as asking for the "location" of a team's "spirit" after seeing the players. Note that the fallacy is defined as "logical," calling into question all instances of the most basic category of intelligence: logic itself. Next, our friendly online AI assistant lists examples of various types of category mistakes, such as confusion between the abstract and the physical, mixing up parts and wholes, conflating mental and physical phenomena, as well as functional, linguistic, and scientific confusions. All conceptual. Then, we are treated to key characteristics of categorical errors, including rank absurdity or nonsense; nouns as subjects of verbs they cannot perform; using terms in the wrong syntactical context; or using inadequate data to support an analytical operation. Dutifully providing links for further study to various online sources such as Reddit, Philiosophy Stack Exchange, and YouTube, AI summarizes succinctly: Essentially, it is a way to make a philosophical argument cringe by treating a "concept" as a "thing." Glad we cleared that up! Speaking of "making a philosophical argument "cringe" is, in itself, intentionally or not, a kind of category error, is it not? Can an argument cringe? Do AIs have a sense of humor? However you feel about the current debate over AIs encroaching upon human territory—which may be another categorical error, just on a meta level—you have to admit that they can throw together a neat and comprehensive summary, saving this writer the time and effort it would take to track down all of those links. Good enough to support the point I am trying to make, anyway. My point being that Buddha seems to be saying, based on his own direct research in meditation, that we are grossly misinterpreting the phenomena of birth and death, making a "thing" of the concepts we have about them. If birth, as well as death, are not "things,"—that is, not real—in the sense we imagine, it begs the question, then what are they? They definitely denote a change, but what order of change? This seems to be the point of one of the standout assertions of the Hsinhsinming—Trust in Mind, from Sengcan, third patriarch of Ch'an Buddism: Change appearing to occur in the empty world we call "real" only because of our ignorance We can understand this claim on a universal level, I think. From the perspective of the solar system or the galaxy, change on this tiny planet does not seem all that dramatic. But on a proximate and personal scale, it takes on draconian dimensions. Matsuoka-roshi's suddenly cutting off one of his senior student's statement about dying is another finger pointing at this particular moon. He didn't qualify the assertion. He just said, matter-of-factly, "You don't die," correcting the assumption "Sensei, when I die" mid-expression. What it is that we refer to as "I" comes under intense scrutiny in Zen. We assume that this aggregation—of what are called the Five Skandhas: form, feeling, thought, impulse and consciousness; and the Six Senses: seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching and thinking—taken together, is what constitutes the "I" in question. This self-awareness is then assumed to have been born with the birth of the body-mind complex, developing along with the fetus in the womb, consciousness slowly emerging out of the growth of the brain and nervous system. This is common knowledge. Which is why it is callenged in Zen. Another reference to the kind of singular realization that Zen is pointing to comes from Tozan Ryokai, 200 years after Sengcan, in Hokyo Zammai—Precious Mirror Samadhi: Although it is not constructed it is not beyond wordsLike facing a precious mirror form and reflection behold each other You are not IT but in truth IT is you The first line refers to the unconstructed nature of what Master Muso Kokushi, a generation or two after Master Dogen in Japan, called the "uncreate" in his letters, or "Dream Conversations," to the two brothers who shared the shogunate at the time. Master Dogen also pointed a few fingers at this same moon, such as this excerpt from Fukanzazengi—Principles of Seated Meditation recently posted by Joan Halifax-roshi: Put aside the intellectual practice of investigating words and chasing phrases, and learn to take the backward step that turns the light around and shine it inward. Your body and mind will drop away of themselves, and your original face will manifest. If you want to get into touch with things as they are, you—right here and now—have to start being yourself, as you are. Approaching "things as they are," the singularity of Zen, then, requires a fundamental reversal, a 180-degree flip, of our usual approach to learning, engaging in un-learning. Not learning something new, but unlearning what we think we know, in order to return to the original state of not-knowing. Huineng, sixth patriarch in China, coined the phrase: Show me your original face before your father and mother were born Another teaching attributed to Hakuin Zenji asks, "What nostrils would there be on that face?" In other words, what was THIS—long before our body came into being? Whatever that was, it must also still be what it is after the body deconstructs into its components, as Master Dogen asserts in another teaching: Just as firewood does not become firewood again after it is ashYou do not return to birth after death This analogy refutes the common (mis)belief in reincarnation left over from early Hinduism—that there is an essence, entity, or spirit, the atman, a "thing"—believed to be reborn again and again, transmigrating from one lifetime to another. There is no "you" to return to birth, just as there is no "you" that can die. The body is the firewood. Buddha testified that he found no evidence of the existence of such a "thing" in his direct experience, likening the incarnated body to a chariot. When the chariot is taken apart, and the parts are laid out on the ground, where, he asked, is the chariot? The chariot (or any other thing) functions as a chariot only when assembled. There is no entity, no "there" there, between the parts somewhere. Likewise, the human body, which seems to be one thing, is more like a jellyfish, consisting of an unimaginably complex amalgam of many parts all functioning together to create the illusion of a single entity. This raises the question of what kind, or order, of experience Buddha can be talking about, if at the center of it there is no self, no soul, nothing but connectivity of the parts. How can that realization even be called an "experience"? This conundrum is hinted at in the Heart Sutra, after a long line of negations: "given emptiness...no seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching...no realm of sight, no realm of mind-consciousness," etc. Again, Zen wisdom from Master AI: The phrase "until we come to no consciousness also" refers to a specific passage in the Heart Sutra (Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya) that systematically negates the traditional Buddhist categories of experience to reveal their "emptiness" (śūnyatā). Which brings us to the functioning of zazen, or shikantaza, the objectless meditation of Zen. It is often misinterpreted as "emptying your mind of thought." But this is not the point of zazen, however, and in any case not really feasible. Thinking is not the problem; it is our over-reliance on thinking that gets in the way. It is not for nothing that Zen is called the meditation school of Buddhism. All other sects practice meditation to some degree, of course, but the singular emphasis upon upright seated meditation belongs to Zen, primarily Soto Zen, or what we refer to as "Dogen Zen," as illustrated by this line from his Jijuyu Zammai—Self-fulfilling Samadhi: From the first time you meet a master without engaging in incense offering chanting Buddha's name repentence or reading scriptureyou should just wholeheartedly sit and thus drop away body and mindWhen even for a moment you express the Buddha's sealby sitting upright in Samadhi the whole phenomenal world becomes the Buddha's seal and the entire sky turns into enlightenment Emphasis mine. One aspect of Dogen's particular genius was to recognize the centrality of this practice of upright seated meditation, referred to as the genuine transmission of realization from generation to generation of the lineage, going all the way back to Shakyamuni himself. And according to Buddha himself, even previous, "prehistoric buddhas." Like transmitting art or music, the method can be taught, but the essence of the practice cannot. Art and Zen have to be discovered by the student from their own experience. In the process, they have to set aside all they think they have learned. Zen and creativity are based on the process of unlearning what we have learned to the present. A current trope may make this point a bit more succinctly. In zazen, we are "reverse-engineering" consciousness itself, allowing it to manifest untrammeled by our ideas about it. Let's pick up the thread in the next segment. Meanwhile, practice-practice-practice: attention-attention-attention.

In this third-day talk, offered during the Spring Practice Period Sesshin, Sensei Ryotan takes up the habit of self-judgment — that familiar contraction after a mistake, the script of not being good enough, and the perfectionism that keeps us small. Framing her teaching through the Lotus Sutra's Never-Disparaging Bodhisattva, who bows to every being's capacity for awakening even as rocks and… Source

This Hanamatsuri lecture teaches that the birth of Shakyamuni Buddha is not just a historical event, but a living reminder that all people possess the potential for enlightenment. Drawing from the Lotus Sutra and the writings of Nichiren, it emphasizes the dignity of every life and the presence of the Buddha nature within us. Through faith, practice, and chanting Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō, we actively “give birth” to awakening in our own lives, bringing compassion and wisdom into the world.

But they still protect votaries of the Lotus Sutra who chant to the Dai Gohonzon of Taisekiji

This episode we close out discussion of this reign with a bit of a grab bag.  There is the minting of new coins, new letters to write Japanese, board games, and more. For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-146 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is episode 146: Coins, Letters, Games, and More   The large audience hall was filled with nobles, sitting in pairs across from each other.  Throughout the hall, the roof and walls reverberated with the sounds of numerous stone markers being placed on painted wooden tables—or more appropriately, game boards.   It was accompanied by the sound of dice clattering.  At the far end of the hall was the royal presence, where his majesty could likewise join in the entertainment—with someone of sufficient standing, of course. Throughout the day there were bursts of joy and frustration throughout the hall.  In some instances, one could see two players sharing in the joy and love of the game.  In other cases, political rivals stared each other down, neither one willing to give away any strategic advantage.  Any smiles there were merely a mask.  And yet, no matter how hard one tried, there was only so much you could do.  Ultimately, your fate was in the hands of the dice, though you could certainly do your best to nudge it here and there. And so they continued.  As they played, small wagers were made between players.  At the conclusion of their match, each player could find another opponent, and see if their luck held out.  Victory was desired, but at the very least one didn't want to be embarrassed.  As such, losing gracefully was just as important as winning with humility.  Sure, there were  the petty stakes that were gambled here and there, but the real stakes were embedded in the politics of the court.  That was a game  that everyone was playing, except that there was no board, and the rules were often merely suggestions, at best.     This episode we are going to close out the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno.  It has been a while getting here—but then again, Ohoama's reign is the best documented so far, almost like the entire Chronicle has built up to this point.  We have spent about a dozen episodes on this reign—not including the four before that discussing the Jinshin no Ran. During that time we've talked about how Ohoama continued the Ritsuryou experiment, while  at the same time shaping it into something that was even more directly under his control.  A lot of this appears to have been done with the mostly willing consent of a good part of the archipelago. That may have been because of a few different things.  For one, all of this was justified through the philosophical underpinnings of the continent.  This is the new knowledge that the court had been devouring for over a century, and so I suspect that none of it seemed particularly surprising or out of place.  Furthermore, it seems that Ohoama's actions may have appealed to some of the more middle-tier elites; those for whom the idea of a government stipend was quite appealing. There was also the external threat of Silla and Tang.  Though in reality, Silla was in conflict with the Tang dynasty, up until the conclusion of the Silla-Tang War, around 676.  In truth, the Tang court wouldn't recognize Sillan sovereignty south of the Taedong river until 736, so there were still tensions.  However, early on in the reign there was at least the thought that hostilities could spill over onto the archipelago. And then there are all of the projects.  The designation of national temples, the beginning of a national history project, the founding of a permanent capital city, and the creation of a formal code—the Asuka Kiyomihara Code. Compared to all of that, the topics of this episode really are some miscellaneous stuff that I didn't have anywhere else to put, but wanted to bring to light anyway.  First, we'll talk about the minting of coins, and what that meant.  Once again, this is really neat because we actually have some coins that appear to be from this time frame, providing what might be a direct relationship between what is written down and what we have in the archaeological record.  Then we'll touch on another project of Ohoama's—this one less successful than some of the others we've discussed.  This was an attempt to create a new writing system specific to the Japanese language.  Remember, at this point literate people in the archipelago were using kanji to write everything down, and for the most part they were using kanbun—so Sinitic characters and grammar, with occasional use of characters purely for their phonetic qualities when they absolutely had to spell something out.  Eventually this would evolve into the syllabaries of katakana and hiragana, but there were several false starts before that, and we'll talk about what was being attempted during Ohoama's reign. Beyond those court projects we'll talk about some of the kami and Buddhist related rituals, especially as they related to growing merit and attempting to protect the state and its people from disasters—natural or otherwise.  And then there are various omens, and just a few edicts that were more geared towards the court but are still fun, like when Ohoama forced the entire court to join him for a day of… board games.  I guess when you are the sovereign and trying to set up a game day, scheduling is suddenly not so big of a problem. So that's what we are going to cover.  We are skipping around throughout the reign, and so while I'll mention dates here and there, I'll try not to get too bogged down with the exact dates unless it really matters. First off: coins.  We are going to start somewhere in the middle, on the 15th day of the 4th month of 683.  It is here that we see a note that Ohoama decreed that copper coins would be used, and not silver.  Remember that a silver mine had been discovered in Tsushima back in 674.  At that time we know that there were silver coins being made, but in 683 it looks like they were changing from silver to copper.  But three days later, they reversed the decision to completely cancel the silver coins, so they presumably had both silver and copper coins. Coins are interesting for several reasons.  For one, coins often help us to date various collections—if they are distinctive enough.  They can be quite helpful in telling us that a particular archaeological assemblage is almost certainly from sometime after the coins had begun to be circulated.  After all, if you unearth a stratum of an archeological dig and you find a penny dated to 1912, you can be reasonably confident that that layer was last exposed on or after 1912, unless time travel was at play. There are some exceptions where animals or tree roots or other forces can disturb the layering, but that's why archeologists carefully pay attention to soil features.  That isn't to say that all coins of the time had clear dates on them.  In fact, the oldest coins we have in the archipelago are something called "Mumon Ginsen"—literally unmarked silver coins.  They are found in various assemblages and thought to have originated under Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  The silver from Tsushima would have likely been used for this.  For many reasons it is unclear if these were minted by the state or if they were privately minted and circulated. The copper coin mentioned in Ohoama's record in the Nihon Shoki would appear to be what is known as a Fuhonsen coin, which we also have extant examples of.  These are round copper coins with a square hole in the middle, as was common on the continent.  The previous unmarked silver coins were just small circles of solid silver.  In contrast, the Fuhonsen bear the characters "FU-HON":  FU, or "Tomi", means wealth, and HON, or "moto", means something like base or basis.  "SEN" just refers to the fact that it is a coin.  So the coin represents the basis of wealth. They are just under an inch in diameter, and 1.5 millimeters thick.  While primarily copper, they do have traces of antimony, silver, and bismuth.  The use of copper was likely because of its lower melting point, which would have been easier to cast with. So it seems that these were the new copper coins mentioned in the Chronicles, and the intent was originally to completely replace any silver currency.  I suspect that they quickly realized that they could not easily replace all of the silver, and so the older silver coins were probably still in circulation—though I don't know if any new ones were being minted. We don't exactly know how the coins were used.  They weren't being used to pay taxes or similar things—that was still all being handled in rice, silk, cloth, and labor.  They might have been used by the government to pay individuals, who would then exchange them for goods, but they were probably not used very often between individuals.  There is even some suggestion that they had a more ritual meaning.  Coins of a similar shape—round with a square hole in the center—go back to at least 350 BCE on the continent, and were quite common by the  time of the Han dynasty.  The round hole allowed them to be placed on strings—you'll often see references to strings of cash.  In the Qin dynasty, a string was meant to be a superunit, made up of 1000 coins.  Merchants and others operating at some scale could then just pay in "strings" of cash rather than counting out each and every coin.  It also provided a way of transporting them.  Anyone doing business in east Asia would have encountered coinage from one of the dynasties on the mainland, and we certainly see various coins making their way over to the archipelago, though how exactly they were used and valued isn't certain.  It may have been more important to just have them on hand for trips to the continent so that an embassy or trading vessel could participate in the economy, there. The next coin to be minted in the archipelago itself wasn't until 708, and that was the Wadokaichin, or Wado coins, named for the four characters around the square hole, which included the era name that they were created, "Wado".  This seems to have kicked off an actual national currency that would only last for a couple hundred years before it was debased and lost its value.  For centuries after that, rice was once again the primary currency, and would continue to be so, even though the Tokugawa shogunate would begin to mint and issue coins again through much of their rule.  Still, coins were often outside the grasp of most of the common people. While coins may not have fully caught on, they did better than our next project.  This was a task that was given to Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwashiki who compiled, by royal command, a new set of characters, which were recorded in a book of 44 volumes.  Though this book  is no longer extant, we do have later sources that claim it was once in the royal library.  It describes the characters as similar to Sanskrit characters.  This appears to be an attempt to create an alphabet, or syllabary, for the Japanese language. While Yamato had adopted the Sinitic systems of logographic writing, it wasn't exactly up to the task of directly writing in Japanese.  For one thing, the languages had different sounds that they used, and in different combinations.  Furthermore, grammatically, the two were quite different.  Many Sinitic languages are Subject, Verb, Object, similar to English, while Japanese is Subject, Object, Verb, meaning the verb goes at the end.  But beyond that, Japanese relies extensively on conjugation of verbs, with verbs and adjectives changing to express tense and other such things that Sinitic languages, such as modern Putonghua and languages such as Middle Chinese handle in other ways.  To give an English speaking person a similar experience, imagine writing sentences as "The bird in the tree sat"  or "the man the bread at the store bought".  Now remove many of the articles and prepositions, so you get things like "bird tree sit" and "man bread store buy".  You can imagine how that can really get unwieldy if you want to convey more nuanced concepts. Japanese would either need to add a phonetic writing system—which it did—or it would need to come up with new characters to use in place of the special qualities of the language.  Or they would need to continue to write in Sinitic grammatical order and  continue to do the translation to Japanese on the fly.   One can imagine that this was hardly efficient—in order to learn how to write you would basically have to learn a whole new language. That these new symbols were similar to characters associated with Sanskrit also makes sense, and we even see similar attempts on the continent, though they had other writing systems to compare to as well.  For example, we see the Persian Sogdian, written with a variation of Syriac script, and the Ghandari language written with its own Ghandari or Kharosthi script, but the influence of Buddhism likely explains why scripts associated with Sanskrit likely had a greater influence than other languages.  I should note here that Sanskrit itself does not have a single script—today, people probably think of the Devanagari script, commonly used in India, but that doesn't seem to have been developed until the 8th century.  The work of Iwashiki was likely based on something like the Siddham, or Kutila, script.  This is an abudgida, where consonants and vowels are connected together when written.  This would have worked well for the Japanese language as phonemes are often grouped together as consonant-vowel clusters known as morae.  Siddham evolved in the late 6th century and many Buddhist scripts that were making their way along the Silk Road would have used it.  However, it is said that Siddham proper—or at least as we know it today—was introduced to Japan by the famous monk Kuukai in the early 9th century.  If that is the case, then what script was Iwashiki using as his inspiration? Regardless of the details, this new script doesn't seem to have taken off.  It may have just been too much to ask someone to learn the various kanji AND another system on top of that.  Instead, the Japanese would adopt certain kanji over time, and simplify them into what we know, today, as kana.  Our earliest example is what we know of as Man'yogana, named for the Man'yoshu, an 8th century collection of poems attributed to various contemporary and historical figures.  Because the poetic structure of Japanese required specific counts of syllables or, more specifically, morae, it was important to capture the actual pronunciation of the language.  Certain characters were chosen and used over and over again purely for their phonetic value, rather than any other inherent meaning.  Over time, those characters were simplified and standardized, developing into the katakana and hiragana still used today.  While it was these organically-evolving systems that would eventually be most popular and fill the gap, but it is still incredible to see someone deliberately tackling the problem at this early date. Moving on from money and writing, let's turn now to matters of the kami and the Buddha.   Yamato existed in a world that saw itself as being caught between forces both seen and unseen.  Besides the natural world there was the spiritual world, and to many it was just as real as anything else. We've talked all along about the interplay between the court, the kami and the Buddha, and some of the evidence we see is relatively simple.  For instance, in 675, the Ohokami, the great god, of Tosa presented a divine sword to the sovereign.  I doubt that a kami was showing up in person to the court—this would have been priests from the shrine.   Aston suggests that the kami in question was probably either Hitokotonushi no Mikoto or Misukitakahikone no Mikoto, quoting "authorities" which he does not otherwise name.  We get more serious, though, when it comes to major events.  And the drought and famine of 676 seems to fit that description.  As you may recall from episode 144, the governor of Shimotsukeno reported a bad harvest in the 5th month, and by the 6th month we see more reports coming in of a great drought.  Clothing was collected for the Buddhist temples to help build merit.  Later, there was a comet in the sky, and then, in the 8th month, we see that the court compelled the Kuni no Miyatsuko and the governors to all contribute to an Ohoharae, or Great Purification.  Eventually, the Ohoharae would become a regular ceremony held on the 30th day of the 6th and 12th months of the year, with royal princes down to the high ministers gathering at the southern gate—the Suzaku-mon. Members of the Urabe, the Diviners, would read the various norito, the ritual prayers, to disperse evil influences.  It was, and is,also used when there is a royal visit to the Ise or Kamo shrines, as well as at the Dajosai festival at the start of a new reign.  It can also be done if there is thought to have been some kind of offense that was committed. "Harae", or "purification", is a common part of Shinto ritual today.  From the simple washing of the hands and mouth before entering the shrine grounds to pray to spiritual purification performed by a priest who waves a large stick with paper streamers—the ohonusa or haraegushi—while chanting prayers to ward off evil influences, purification is a key component in Shinto, which often concerns itself with aspects of spiritual pollution.  And so the Oho-harae, the Great Purification, is that, but turned up to eleven. The litany used for the Ohoharae, today, is also known as the Nakatomi no Ohoharae, indicating the importance of the Nakatomi in the ritual.  This Ohoharae, however, was taking place in the 8th month, and may not have had all of the traditions of the later rituals we know today.  Rather, we are told what was required:  The Kuni no Miyatsuko of the provinces were instructed to send one horse and a piece of cloth to specific shrines of purification.  In addition, the governors of the various districts were each told to supply one sword, one deerskin, one mattock, one smaller sword, one sickle, one set of arrows, and one sheaf of rice.  In addition, each household had to supply a bundle of hemp cloth.  These may not have been used in the ritual as much as they were offerings to the kami and their shrine. We'll see this in various cases where the State places rather onerous financial requirements on the population in order to perform rituals.  Of course, by the logic of the time, whatever was donated would make the ritual more effective—it would be more pleasing to the kami.  Still this seems remarkably costly in a year where we are told that the peasants were starving just a few months prior. I'll also take this moment to point out a link here to something that anyone who has been to a shrine may be familiar with, and that is the donation of horses. Horses were common enough a donation—if people of status rode horses, then how much more so the kami themselves?  Sacred or votive horses could be used to carry the kami, and even today some shrines keep sacred horses for the kami.  However, not everyone has horses to donate, and I suspect that the shrine probably didn't need an entire herd of horses.  And so some would pay money for an image of a horse, instead, to be hung in the shrine, likely indicating the donor.  Of course, this wasn't just a picture, but an official record of some kind of donation, which could theoretically go to purchase horses and other such things that the shrine might need.  These pictures of horses were known as "e-ma", literally "picture horse", and we still see them today: The most common type of e-ma will be small wooden placards sold at the shrine, and people will write their desires on the back, with their name and information.  They will often be found hanging in groups on specially designated racks meant for that purpose.  Today, e-ma might have horses on them, but more often have other pictures, associated with the particular shrine and kami.  Speaking of horses, we have a couple more references to them this year.  At some point, Ohoama had issued an edict seeking horses, not just for riding, but other good horses so that the givernment would have them when needed, distributed to the various post-stations.  So when he was returning from a banquet by the Todoroki pool in Hatsuse—modern Hase--Ohoama made a diversion to the post-station of Tomi and had the horses demonstrate their speed.  Presumably this was just a horse race, which seems to be popular around the world, in any place with horses. We see something similar when we are told that Ohoama went to Asatsuma to inspect the horses of the officials there.  At his request, the officials organized a competition of horseback archery.  This appears to reference the famous art of Yabusame—though it may not have been recognized as such just yet, there is some thought that the idea of a horsed archer shooting at three targets while galloping past may have originated in the 6th century, with ties to Usa Jingu.  Still, horseback archery would remain important, and later it would become the primary art of the warrior class from about the 12th to the 13th century or so—and arguably even up until the Sengoku period, with its spear formations and foreign guns. Later, in the 10th lunar month of 681, Ohoama and the court were prepared to go hunting on the Hirose plain.  A temporary palace was prepared and all of the bags were packed, but ultimately, Ohoama didn't go.  Instead, those from the rank of Prince to high ministers stayed at Karunoichi—a market at a cross-roads in the Nara basin that likely was the location of a government stable.  There, they inspected the horses and saddle equipment.  Those from the rank of Shokin up sat under the trees while those of Daisen and below mounted up and passed along from south to north.  Not quite as exciting as horse racing or horsed archery, but who doesn't like a parade. One wonders what happened to call off the hunt.  Perhaps Ohoama, while not bedridden, was not in the best of health.  If he was having some kind of recurring problems then that could explain some of the merit-making as well.  You may recall we discussed how much merit the state seemed to be trying to make in support of the sovereign's health, which we discussed in episode 142. Getting back to the Ohoharae—the great purification.  That was followed up by a general amnesty, which we talked about last episode, as well as a command to let loose living things.  This is a Buddhist practice that one still sees today in various places, usually in the form of letting loose animals like fish and birds that were kept by individuals.  I don't think they were just opening up the paddocks and letting the horses, cattle, and other animals go.  As fascinating as that might be to contemplate, with horses just running wild and cattle trampling the rice fields, I doubt they took it that far.  Still, this practice was clearly an attempt to make more merit for the State.   This edict was repeated only a few months later, in the 11th lunar month, but then it was confined to those provinces that were considered to be "near" to the capital, so a little more focused.  The day after that second release of animals, men were dispatched to all parts to expound the Konkwoumyou and Ninou sutras.  This was the Sutra of Golden Light and the Sutra of the Benevolent King—both sutras focused on concepts of good rulership and protection of the State.  In fact, together with the Lotus Sutra, they would come to be considered the Gokoku Sanbukyou—the Three sutras for Protection of the State.  They were read for the purpose of averting disaster, but they also helped to prop up the image of a righteous and benevolent ruler—what might be termed a golden-wheel turning sovereign, or Chakravarti. So all of this would seem to simultaneously reflect an intention to protect the State while also demonstrating performative regnal righteousness.  It was, after all, what a good ruler was supposed to do, which also conveniently told people what a good ruler was supposed to do. It is unclear whether or not the court actually felt this did anything.  I would note that a month later they were asking Princes and Ministers to gather up weapons, so it is possible that they were concerned about more than just natural disasters— such as a concern that the people were getting restless.  A few days later, we see more largess, as the court made presents to public functionaries and men of the frontier states.  It is unclear to me if this is a reward of some sort or perhaps an attempt to boost their morale and support. Later in that month we see preparations for the upcoming Feast of First Fruits, or Niinamesai, two months later.  We are told that the Jingikan, the Office of Kami Matters, had made the divination that the Yuki, the ceremonially pure rice for the ritual would come from the District of Yamada, in Owari.  For the Sugi, the "next" lower quality of rice, that would come from the district of Kasa, in Tamba.  The feast went off as usual in the 11th month, pre-empting the normal announcement of the first of the month. Later in the record we see that preparations were started for another Ohoharae, or Great Purification, and a general amnesty was issued.  This time, instead of sending horses for the kami, the Miyatsuko of each province were to supply one male and one female servant to the shrines, instead.  Fifteen days later, in the intercalary 7th lunar month—an extra month inserted to keep the lunar and solar calendars in synch—we see the queen, Uno, hosting a feast after ritual fasting.  She then had sutras expounded throughout the capital.  I find it particularly interesting that this was apparently instigated by the queen, but along with the Ohoharae, this all speaks towards the feeling that the State needed to be purified and supplied with good merit. The Ohoharae was not the only way to curry favor with the kami.  For example, in one record we see Ohoama designating sacred rice-tax for the shrines of Heaven and Earth—shrines for the Amatsu kami and Kunitsu kami.  One third of the rice was to go to the kami directly, while two thirds of the rice was to go to the priests who kept the shrines going. This same year, 677, we aren't told where the rice for the Niiname-sai came from, but we are told that those who donated as well as members of the Jingikan, who were involved in the divination and ritual more generally, were all compensated for their troubles with various presents. The Jingikan is one of those aspects of the new, bureaucratic state, that feels extremely tied to the archipelago.  It literally is the Bureau of Kami Matters, or the Bureau of Kami Affairs—the Kami no Tsukasa.  It would even come to be ranked above the Council of State in the official org chart of the government.  While the government had national temples and appointed members of the clergy who were responsible for keeping the Buddhist institutions in line with the State, the Jingikan was that entity for court ritual, and even for interfacing with various shrines around the country.   In the 10th century, all of the official shrines across the archipelago would be catalogued and assessed a rank and position, with Ise Shrine and the royal court at the top of the list. Speaking of the national temples, the fourth month of 680 was when Ohoama designated the national temples—which we also covered in Episode 142.  On the first day of month after that, we are told that he bestowed gifts of silk and cloth to 24 temples around the capital; and if there really were 24 temples just around the capital itself, one can imagine why they had to put a stop to publicly funding all of them.  That must have been quite the upkeep.  That same day, the Golden Light Sutra was expounded in the palace and at select temples as well.  As we've seen, the court relied just as heavily—or more—on Buddhism for certain rituals and providing spiritual power. While both Kami-based rituals and Buddhism were revered for their ability to affect the supernatural, Buddhist priests seem to have had a particularly revered place in—or perhaps more rightly outside—of society.  One is more likely to hear about someone who was a Buddhist priest or a novice being revered than a kannushi, or shrine priest.  For example, in the 7th month of 680, the priest Kouchou, of Asukadera, passed away. The royal princes Ohotsu and Takechi were sent to express royal condolence.  Later that same year we would see something similar, with Royal—later Crown—Prince Kusakabe visiting the eminent priest (Y)emyou on his death bed.  Yemyou died the next day, and three royal princes were sent to offer the condolences on behalf of the royal family. Towards the end of 680, Ohoama fell ill. One hundred individuals were made to take holy orders on his behalf, after which he appears to have recovered—or at least recovered enough for the time.  Earlier in the month his queen, Uno no Sarara, had taken ill, for which Ohoama had pledged to build Yakushiji, a temple of the Medicine Buddha, as we talked about in Episode 142. Although Ohoama temporarily recovered, we have mentioned how there are plenty of suggestions that he may not have been entirely better.  It could just be that time and numerous diseases were taking a toll, or perhaps he had an ailment that came and went.  I get that impression from things like in the 10th month of 685, as autumn changed to winter,  several nobles were sent to Shinano to build a temporary palace in preparation for a royal progress.  It seems that Ohoama wanted to visit the hot springs at Tsukama.  Tsukama may have been located on the outskirts of modern Matsumoto city, in Nagano, which is known for its hot springs, today.  Bentley implies  that the court was not entirely thrilled with Ohoama taking this journey.  I have to wonder whether or not this was all about Ohoama's health—hot springs were often seen as restorative.  At the same time, this sounds like a fairly long journey into the mountains as the weather was growing colder.  That also may have been part of the draw, however, allowing them to travel and see the changing leaves, a very common pastime in successive centuries, and even today. I can't help but imagine that Ohoama was seeking the restorative properties, while his court may have been apprehensive about the journey there and back as the days were getting colder.  Compare this to his actions at the start of the Jinshin no Ran, when he made that incredible dash from Yoshino, through the mountains, over to Owari.  But that was well over a decade ago, at this point, and he seems not quite so spry as he once had been. Another popular record that we find in this reign were various oddities and omens.  We've covered quite a few, but I did want to cover a few more before we pull the curtain closed on this era. First off, early in the reign, we see a record in the 10th month of 675 for a woman in the district of Takakura, in the province of Sagami, giving birth to triplets.  A quick Internet search suggests that natural triplets occur in about 1 in every 8000 or 10,000 births.  However, there is another thing to consider at this time:  giving birth to a single child was already a risky business, and death during or just after childbirth was a constant threat.  So now consider the issues with giving birth to twins or even triplets.  The odds that there is a complication just go up at that point.  So I suspect this was a very rare occurrence.  The fact that it was three sons was probably also seen as particularly auspicious, at least for any who were studying traditional Confucian scholarship. Moving on to the 4th day of the 4th lunar month of that same year, we get an omen for the court.  First is a cock sent to the court by Wanitsumi no Yogoto, from the Lower Sofu district in Yamato province.  This cock is said to have had a comb like a camelia flower, which was apparently quite auspicious.  On the other hand, a report came in from Akunami, also in Yamato province, about a hen that had turned into a cock.  Aston, of course, considers that this would have been an ominous sign—a disruption of the natural order.  To be honest, I don't see any particular judgment placed on it one way or the other.  It is just listed as a wondrous or miraculous occurrence. The year 678 has remarkably few events, in total, with nothing recorded between the 4th and 9th months.  And the 9th month was just a note about the death of one, Prince Wakasa, of the third princely rank.  The month after that we have another one of those strange occurrences.  This time it is a report of something falling from the sky like silk floss, except that it was 5 or 6 feet long and 7 or 8 inches wide.  It supposedly floated on the wind and waved from the fir woods and the reed plains.  People who saw it called it kanro, or "sweet nectar". This is really just a crazy entry.  I've wracked my brains to think of a natural event that could cause something like this, but this seems like something that was more like a rumor that got written down.  "Kanro" is thought to be something that Buddhist texts refer to as "Amrita", an exlixir of immortality.  In continental lore, it is said to be a sweet nectar that forms when yin and yang are in harmony—such as during a benevolent reign.  So whatever the truth of any natural event, to the Chroniclers the entry is clearly a chance to hype up Ohoama's reign. And then, towards the end of the 8th month, we see Katsura no Miyatsuko no Oshikatsu presenting auspicious stalks of grain.  Reportedly they all came from different plots and yet had very similar ears of grain.  Auspicious stalks of rice weren't uncommon, but Aston suggests that this was possibly an allegory for all of the royal princes who were brought together in Yoshino to swear to support each other.  The 8th month may have been when the grain was harvested—because it wasn't until the final month of the year that we see the court reacting.  At that point presents were made to the Royal and non-Royal Princes, the Ministers, and the public functionaries, all according to rank, in consequence of the auspicious stalks of grain.  In addition there was an amnesty for all offences from capital crimes on down. Now on top of all of that, there were a few edicts that touched on various topics that we just haven't gotten to, elsewhere. For instance, in the 8th month of 681, on the 10th day, we see a notification to all of the people in the archipelago who claimed descent from those from the continent—specifically those from the Korean peninsula, or the Samhan.  They were told that the taxes, which had previously been remitted for 10 years, so starting in 671, had come to an end.  However, corvee labor was still remitted for ten years to them and their children and grandchildren who had been with them when they first arrived. There are some questions about this passage, but in general it seems that those refugees who had escaped to the archipelago from Baekje and Goguryeo had previously been given 10 years from the time they arrived during which they did not owe taxes.  This included corvee labor—which also extended to any children that had been with them at the time.  Children that were born after that… well they wouldn't be of age to be used as corvee labor in 10 years so this would only apply to those who were with them at the  time and who would be of age within that 10 year timeframe. This exemption from taxes appears several times in different forms, and appears to be a grace period, during which people were expected to establish themselves, open fields, and begin to thrive.  At the end of 10 years, then they would start paying taxes, with the assumption that they had more than enough time to prepare and work the land. Moving on to one of my favorite entries, on the 18th day of the 9th lunar month in 685, Ohoama declared a game day.  He had the Princes and Ministers gather at the Ohoandono, the Great Audience Hall, and had them play a game called "Pakugi" or "Bakugi".  We aren't quite sure what the rules were—it probably wasn't Settlers of Catan, but you never know.  It was likely a game with dice, possibly a version of backgammon, which is quite old and commonly known as a game for gambling.  That same day, Ohoama gave out gifts of robes and trousers to ten princes and others—perhaps related to the gaming session? The history of games and gaming is particularly fascinating.  For one thing, many of the games that were played in the archipelago had come from the continent, and many had variants that had traversed the entirety of Eurasia.  Backgammon and Chess were both games that had variants that would be known in Japan.  Backgammon was known as sugoroku, and in Japan they played a game similar to chess known as Shogi.  They would also play go—or more appropriately igo—from at least the Nara period, though that game, invented in what is now China, does not seem to have spread quite as much as either backgammon or chess variants.  And while chess was a game that was often highly localized—with different pieces representing different things and often moving in different ways depending on the variant—backgammon seems to have been quite similar everywhere, and could probably be played by two people with wildly different cultural backgrounds with very little interpretation needed. The day after Ohoama had the court join his game day, there were more presents.  This time it was brown bear hides given to the royal and non-royal princes.  In total there were 48 hides given out, which is really pretty incredible.  I have this image in my mind of a very Asuka era wooden mansion, with wood and bronze and silk, and then a large bear hide sprawled out on the floor.  I'm not sure exactly how they were used, but I suspect that they were mostly used as floor coverings for people to sit or lay on, though I could also see them being used as sleeping mats.  It seems they were clearly elite status goods, but hardly what we think about in this period. And that is where we are going to come to a close.  There are only a few more things that we'll get to, but they are all related to what happened with the events surrounding Ohoama's death and the succession that followed, so we'll touch on those when we kick off the next reign. Until then if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

This lecture, “Helping Others with Wisdom: When Compassion Becomes Attachment,” explores the deeper Buddhist understanding of compassion beyond simple kindness. It challenges the common assumption that helping others is always beneficial, revealing how unchecked compassion can sometimes lead to burnout, attachment, or even the reinforcement of suffering. Drawing from the teachings of the Lotus Sutra and Nichiren Shonin, the message emphasizes the importance of balancing compassion with wisdom—recognizing when to act, when to step back, and how to support others without losing oneself. Ultimately, the lecture teaches that true help is not about rescuing or controlling others, but about empowering them while maintaining clarity, boundaries, and faith in their inherent Buddha-nature.

Send us Fan MailRev. Jodo Cliff Clusin gives a talk on The Sutra of Innumerable Meanings from the Lotus Sutra.

In this Wednesday Night Dharma Talk, Sensei Fushin addresses what so many of us are carrying right now — the weight of a world in upheaval, the accumulation of personal grief, and the stories we tell ourselves at three in the morning when everything feels urgent and nothing feels within reach. Drawing on the Lotus Sutra's parable of the burning house, Fushin reframes the question entirely… Source

O-Higan is a Buddhist observance held during the spring and autumn equinox that symbolizes crossing from the “this shore” of suffering to the “other shore” of enlightenment. The practice encourages reflection on the **Six Pāramitās—generosity, ethical conduct, patience, diligence, meditation, and wisdom—as the path that carries us toward awakening. In Nichiren Shu Buddhism, this crossing is realized through faith and practice of the Lotus Sutra, especially through chanting Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō while living with gratitude toward our ancestors and compassion toward all beings.

This lecture explores Chapter 21 of the Lotus Sutra, “The Supernatural Powers of the Tathagata,” through the lens of Nichiren Buddhism. It explains how the Buddha demonstrates supernatural powers to confirm the truth of the Lotus Sutra and entrusts its future propagation to the Bodhisattvas of the Earth and to practitioners in later ages. Drawing on teachings from Nichiren, the lecture highlights the importance of chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo as the essence of the Lotus Sutra in the Latter Day of the Law. It also connects the sutra's message to Nichiren's own life, particularly his courage during persecution, illustrating how ordinary people can embody the Buddha's compassion and continue the mission of spreading the Dharma in the world today.

Bright on Buddhism - Episode 133 - Who was Daosheng? What did he do? What is his significance to East Asian Buddhism?Resources: Blum, Mark (2003). "Daosheng". In Buswell, Robert E. (ed.). Encyclopedia of Buddhism. New York: Macmillan Reference Lib. pp. 201–202. ISBN 0028657187.Buswell, Robert Jr; Lopez, Donald S. Jr., eds. (2013). Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. ISBN 9780691157863.Hsiang-Kuang, Chou (1956). A History of Chinese Buddhism. Allahabad: Indo-Chinese Literature Publications.Kanno, Hiroshi (1994). "An Overview of Research on Chinese Commentaries of the Lotus Sutra". Acta Asiatica. 66: 87–103.Kim, Young-Ho (1985). Tao-Sheng's Commentary on the Lotus Sutra: A Study and Translation. dissertation, Albany, NY.: McMaster University. Archived from the original on 2014-02-03.Kim, Young-ho (1992). Tao-Sheng's Commentary on the Lotus Sutra: A Study and Translation. SUNY Press. ISBN 978-1-4384-0898-9.Lai, Whalen (1982). "Sinitic speculations on buddha-nature". Philosophy East and West. 32 (2): 135–149. doi:10.2307/1398712. JSTOR 1398712.Lai, Whalen (1991). "Tao Sheng's Theory of Sudden Enlightenment Re-examined". In Peter N. Gregory (ed.). Sudden and Gradual. Approaches to Enlightenment in Chinese Thought. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass Publishers Private Limited. pp. 169–200.Tanabe, George J. (1992). "Review: Tao-sheng's Commentary on the Lotus Sutra: A Study and Translation, by Young-he Kim". Philosophy East and West. 42 (2): 351–355. doi:10.2307/1399301. JSTOR 1399301. Archived from the original on August 17, 2011._______________________If you like our show and would like to support us, we encourage you to give your money or resources to a worthy cause. We can get through this. Our strongest weapon is solidarity. Stay strong and help where you can. Thank you.Do you have a question about Buddhism that you'd like us to discuss? Let us know by emailing us at Bright.On.Buddhism@gmail.com.Credits:Nick Bright: Script, Cover Art, Music, Voice of Hearer, Co-HostProven Paradox: Editing, mixing and mastering, social media, Voice of Hermit, Co-Host

This lecture explored how Prince Shōtoku helped establish the spiritual foundation of Japan through his devotion to the Lotus Sutra, centuries before Nichiren proclaimed it as the essential teaching for the Latter Age of the Dharma. As regent of early Japan, Prince Shōtoku promoted the Lotus Sutra as a guide not only for personal awakening but for ethical governance and social harmony, expressing its spirit in his Seventeen-Article Constitution and in the establishment of temples such as Hōryū-ji. The lecture emphasized that the Lotus Sutra teaches the universality of Buddhahood and the unity of all beings, principles that Nichiren later embodied through the chanting of Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō. Together, Prince Shōtoku's protection of the Dharma and Nichiren's fearless proclamation of it form a continuous lineage, calling modern practitioners to courage, compassion, and the active embodiment of the Lotus teaching in society today.

Rev. Patrick Teverbaugh - Parinirvana Sesshin Day one, Opening up the Parinirvana Brief Admonitions Sutra and the Lotus Sutra's Lifespan of the Tathagata

In this lecture we investigate how Nichiren Shonin's birth and faith can be used in our own study and practice of the Lotus Sutra.

For the first regular episode of the year (excepting our New Year's recap) we take a look at the New Year Traditions at Temmu's court.  How did the court celebrate the New Year in the late 7th century? For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-141 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 141: Temmu's New Year's Traditions   The chill winter air meant that most of the assembled crowd had donned multiple layers of robes.  Men and women had assembled together, upon the open, rock-covered courtyard, both to see and be seen.  To the north and east of the courtyard were the walls and gates of the buildings that made up the royal palace, the rooves of the buildings just visible beyond the gates. The onlookers stood arrayed around the open lanes that had been created for the event—at one end of the rocky field were targets, while at the other were archers, also arrayed in their finest outfits.  While technically they wore hunting robes, cut to allow greater movement in the arm, many of these fabrics had no business being anywhere near a moor or the dirt of open fields.  After all, this wasn't just some hunt:  They were demonstrating their skills in the center of the State.  At the officials' command, the archers let loose their arrows.  The crowd murmured at the soft crack of the bowstring, the faint whisper of arrow as the fletchings cut through the air, and the thud as the arrows struck their targets.  Looking downrange, approval bubbled through the crowd: the targets were well-struck.  Behind the archers on the field, another group awaited their turn. The events of the day would be the talk of the court, from the lowest clerk to the highest prince , for days to come.   Not just the well-placed shot, but also the grace and poise of the one who had let loose an arrow of particular note.  And heaven forbid an arrow miss its target.  Even kicking up stones or scraping the earth could have negative social consequences.  A particularly good showing could inspire poetry, and beyond the prizes being offered to the winner, could also bring notice to those from more obscure backgrounds. The new year had just started, and a good performance might be just what was needed to help put the rest of the year on a good footing.     Welcome back!  This is the first episode of the new year, 2026, and we are still going through the reign of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tenno, covering the period from 672 to 686. Before we get started, though, a quick shout out to Suzuki for supporting us on Patreon.  It means a lot and helps us keep this thing going.  If you would like to support us or our efforts to maintain the website, where we also have the Armor manual, clothing, and a miscellany on various topics, we have information at Sengokudaimyo.com and we will have more information at the end of this and every episode.  Support is appreciated as I really do want to try and minimize ads—I don't put any into the podcast myself, though some platforms may place ads around the podcast, which I cannot always control.  Now we've covered a lot this reign, but this episode we are going to cover three things in particular.  First off, and perhaps a bit of a tangent, we'll talk about some of the issues with the Chronicles when it comes to reading it,especially in translation.  It seems quite clear to me that even the sources that the Chroniclers were using weren't always in agreement with each other on how they spelled certain things or even in properly recording when things happened. After that we'll cover the major topics of this episode, focusing primarily on the New Year traditions of the court—we'll look at the major events of the first month for each year in the reign, allowing us to see some of the similarities, and differences. Finally, we'll look at the last year of Ohoama's reign, particularly as he grew ill, because it can be a fascinating question:  What did people do when disease struck before we had modern medicine?  Here the Chronicles reveal a lot about not only the beliefs of the time, but of their syncretism: how people were willing to reach out to whatever power they could in order to cure disease.  Whether it was Yin-yang divination, beseeching the local kami, or attempting to make merit, all of these things were on the table when it came to illness and mortality. And so, let's get into it. One of the first things I want to talk about is the problem that we have in trying to read the Chronicles, both in the way they are written and then the translation issue on top of that.  Even in Japanese the Chronicles have to be translated out of an ancient form of kanbun—basically a Japanese version of Chinese, using Sinitic characters.  Like any document written by non-native speakers, the Chronicles have their idiosyncrasies that make it different from what someone in Chang'an might be writing at the same time.  There are times and places where it is clear that something is meant to be read in the Japanese pronunciation, which itself was different from modern Japanese.  Add to this the fact that there are many times that different Sinitic characters sound alike in Japanese—especially in modern Japanese.  So any English translation of the Chronicles which doesn't give the actual characters in the source text can add to the confusion.  This is why I like to consult either the Japanese Historical Text Initiative or an electronic version of the National History series text—though even those have issues at times when the characters used in the text don't exist in modern character sets, though that seems to be less and less of a problem. One example I want to give of the complexities of reading the Chronicles, and the need to dive deeper into the original language and consult multiple versions, is a set of records for Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others.  He is our first mention of a member of the Ki family: on the 9th day of the 8th month of 673, the first year since Ohoama's ascension and one year after the Jinshin no Ran, we are told that Ki no Omi no Abemaro and others were given favors and rewards for their service during the war in Iga province.  Indeed, Ki no Omi no Abemaro is listed prominently in the records of the Jinshin no Ran and appears to have been one of the generals for Ohoama and the Yoshino faction in general.  Less than a year later, on the 28th day of the 2nd month, Ki no Omi no Abemaro died and was posthumously awarded the rank of Daishi, which was 5th from the top in the old system of 26 ranks.  A rather respectable rank, to be sure. Later that same year we get a note that Ki no Omi no KATAmaro—another member of the family, apparently--was appointed, along with a "Prince Mino" as a commissioner for the erection of the Great Temple of Takechi. Two years later, however, we get a record on the 22nd day of the 4th month of 676 that the sovereign, Ohoama, sent an order to the Governor of Mino telling him to let the children of Ki no Omi no Abemaro, resident in the district of Toki, be removed to the East country and become peasants in that country.  On the face of it, this appears to be an incredible fall from grace.  Ki no Omi no Abemaro is basically one of the top generals and heroes of the Jinshin no Ran, but his children are so unruly that they are banished to the East and stripped of their noble status?  There has to be a story there, right? Then in 679, on the 3rd day of the 2nd month, we are told that Ki no Omi no Katamaro died.  For his service in the Jinshin War he received the posthumous rank of Upper Daikin.  That would have been roughly the 7th rank—two below Ki no Abemaro.  So was the Ki family back in the good graces of the court?  What is going on? First off, when we go to the original text, we see that Aston, whose translation of the Nihon Shoki we've been working on Ihas made an apparent error in translation.  Remember, Aston was translating the Chronicles back in 1896, without the aid of modern computers, along with a lot of other research that has happened since then, and I can hardly fault him for missing things here and there.  This is why, if you cannot check the original, you may want to also look at the new translation from John Bentley.  Here we can see that he translates the name not as "Ki no Omi no Abemaro", but rather that of "Ki no Omi no KASAmaro".  And if we compare Ki no Omi no KaSAmaro with the previous entry on Ki no Omi no KaTAmaro we can see that these are actually the exact same names except for a single character.  Which leads us to the question:  Are these the same person, and the scribes simply miswrote one of the characters in the name?  It may not even be on the Chroniclers so much as whatever texts they were, themselves, working on.  This isn't helped by the fact that we later on see another entry for Ki no KATAmaro, but that one uses character for "KATA", meaning "hard", using the kun'yomi, or Japanese reading, rather than using two phonetic characters in the on'yomi reading.  So is this just another way to write "KATAmaro" or is this a different person altogether? Ultimately, we cannot be entirely sure.  It does seem wild that there would be two "Ki no Omi no Katamaro" at court at the same time and nobody otherwise distinguished the two.  The question about KaSAmaro and KaTAmaro, and whose kids were sent into exile, is a bit harder to untangle. And, truth be told, it is ultimately a minor point.  We have only a couple of lines here, and maybe these passages will help illuminate something later in the histories, but for now, they are just fragments of the story of what was happening.  Parts of the tattered tapestry from which the royal history was ripped out and restitched together, the rest of the story largely discarded, unless it made its way to us through other means. The Chronicles may be flawed, but they are still our main source for the period, and while we might challenge individual items, we still get a glimpse at how things operated back at this time.  For instance, if we look at the events happening around the New Year, we can see some common threads. The New Year is an important tradition in many cultures.  Whether it was a solar or lunar cycle—or some combination—the new year indicated a new cycle, and was often accompanied by associated symbols and rituals.  Today in the US it is often celebrated with fireworks and champagne, followed by making resolutions for the new year.  In Japan, people will often go to their local shrine or temple for an important first visit, and temple bells will ring out 108 times. Another tradition is the osechi-ryori, the  traditional new years foods.  This has grown over time from a tradition of eating a large bowl of rice to various other foods that are seen as auspicious or having special properties, such as the hardening of teeth—a major concern before the era of modern dental hygiene!  Then there are traditions such as the Kagami Biraki, or opening of the mirror, and the creation of special mochi, or rice cakes for the purpose.  Of course all of these traditions started somewhere and have evolved over time, so what do we know about the New Year celebrations during the late 7th century? One caveat: in the Chronicles, we only really see what was happening in the court, and the Yamato court at that.  There may have been local traditions that others were following that, unless we find documentation about them, we likely would never know.  But many of the court traditions were passed down to later generations. These traditions appear to include the giving of gifts; large, celebratory banquets; and the annual archery tournament. Banquets are some of the first and most common things we see.  We see a banquet as Ohoama assumed the throne in 673—which probably was the event that overshadowed anything else they might have done that year.  The following year, 674, there doesn't seem to have been much recorded, and I wonder if they were still pulling everything together after the turmoil of Ohoama's ascension.  And so it is that in the first month of 675 we really get to see the annual new year's events in their full form.  On the second day of that year, from the Royal Princes on down, all of the public functionaries presented their respects to the sovereign.  I suspect that this was a large ceremony, where everyone gathered in the courtyard of the palace together or something similar, not that each person individually went up and presented their respects—I doubt Ohoama would have wanted to sit through all of that.  Also, as we've already seen, there were limits on what parts of the palace different functionaries were allowed to enter.  So some of these well-wishers may have been "outside", others in the courtyard, and others in the palace building itself, depending on their rank and importance in the bureaucratic hierarchy. On the following day, all public functionaries, from the initial rank upwards, presented firewood.  Aston notes that this is the first mention of what would become a yearly practice.  Firewood may not seem like much, but it would have likely been important to keeping things running, especially given how early people were supposed to arrive at the palace and administrative complex each day.  This wasn't firewood for a fireplace—they didn't have those—but probably would have been used either for cooking or, I suspect, for the large braziers that burned with wood and pitch to light the darkness, particularly in the winter months.  Firewood could also be processed into smaller pieces of coal for other uses.  It is interesting that for the first ceremony, the Chronicles describe the court from the Royal Princes on down, while for the giving of firewood the order is from the initial—which is to say the lowest—ranks upwards.  This could indicate the order in which things progressed in these cases. Several days after that, on the 7th day of the first month, a banquet was given at court for the Ministers—so only the higher ranking functionaries.  But ten days later, on the 17th, everyone of rank—the Ministers of State; the Daibu, or high officials; and all of the public functionaries from the initial rank upwards had an archery meeting in the Court of the Western Gate. Archery and archery contests had been important to the Yamato people for ages—and the same on the continent.  Confucius, in his day, suggested that archery was a martial skill that even nobles should cultivate.  I believe we've noted before how archery could be used both for warfare and for just feeding your family.  As such, it was considered a particularly useful skill for just about everyone to have.  It probably also helped that it was a martial skill that noblemen and others could use to show off without actually risking any injury to themselves in the process.  I'm just saying.  And as we described at the top of the episode, this particular archery contest would, for both participants and spectators, likely have been a chance to show off the top of their game, whether in martial prowess, clothing, or behavior. And since we are looking at the new year's celebrations, let's keep this going and look at later years in Ohoama's reign. As I go through these you'll start to see the patterns, where the events I've just described will generally recur year after year, but not identically, sometimes with a shuffle in the schedule. In 676, we see that the Ministers and public functionaries pay their respects on the first day of the new year.  On the 4th day, the sovereign granted gifts to the higher level officials, from Royal Prince Takechi, down to the high officials, or Daibu, of Shoukin rank.  Their not so secret Santa gifts included robes, hakama, lined garments, obi for their waist, leg straps, and staves, or walking sticks.  We are also told that everyone above the rank of Shoukin also got an armrest thrown in, as well.  Further gifts or grants were given out several days later, on the 7th, to everyone from Shoukin on up, based on their individual circumstances.  Then, on the 15th, we again see all of the functionaries present firewood and then they were all entertained at a court banquet. The following day they held the annual new year's archery contest, with prizes, at the court of the western gate.  Those who hit the target received prizes of different values.  In his recent translation of the Nihon Shoki, Bentley references Kuroita on Article 41 of Miscellaneous Statutes, saying that this archery event was apparently a regular new year's occurrence, and even the prizes were noted as varying over time. The same day they held the archery contest, that year, Ohoama held a banquet at the Shima Palace.  Shima was the name given to the Soga Prime Minister, back in the day, so I assume that this was at or near the site of the old Soga residence? In 677, by comparison, we don't see nearly as much referenced.  There is archery at the South Gate, vice the west gate, but that is it.  The festivities in 678 similarly only talk about the archery at the south gate.  There is also mention of a preparation for worshipping the kami of heaven and earth, for which a purification was held throughout the state.  In addition, an abstinence palace, or saiguu, was erected on the bank of the Kurahashi river.  Kurahashi appears to refer to a tributary of the Ohara river, in Sakurai.  This feels less like a New Year's celebration, however, and more like a sign of merit-making.  The Saiguu would have likely been to prepare for a trip to Ise shrine, and three months later Ohoama was preparing to go to the Saiguu, but that is when Princess Towochi suddenly died, and they scuttled the plans. In 679, the court greeted the New Year with a new decree.  Ohoama declared that Princes, Ministers, and public functionaries—anyone in service to the government, basically, were to refrain from paying respects during New Years or other ceremonies to anyone except relatives of the grade of elder brother, elder sister, and above, or to the senior members of the Houses.  Princes weren't even to pay respects to their own mothers unless they were, themselves, princesses.  Ministers were likewise not to pay respects to their mothers if they were of "mean" rank.  In other words, if they were commoners. These kinds of statutes are interesting.  First of all, you ask yourself why?  In all likelihood, there were various local traditions and individuals paid respects to their parents as well as to others to whom they owed respect for one reason or another.  Here the State is ordering society such that there is a clear hierarchy, at least among the members of the court.   Since women often found advancement by marrying up, it was usual for one's mother to have been born a lower rank in society than oneself.  And so we see them enforcing the social order. That new order was based on Confucian concepts of hierarchy, and this seems to go along with those same ideas. What we don't really see is how this was enforced—if at all.  The day after that, the yearly archery competition took place at the West Gate of the palace. The next year, 680, we see a New Year's Banquet at the Court of the Great Hall.  Ohoama himself occupied the Mukai-kodono, which appears to refer to one of the smaller wings.  Based on the palace layout that we see in the posthole remains, this probably means that he was set up in the smaller wing, likely in a more intimate space, while most of the other guests were in the large hall, maintaining that crucial separation of sovereign and subjects. This New Year's archery event included Princes of the Blood all the way down to the rank of Shouken—the very lowest rank in the court—and it was held at the South Gate. You may be noticing a pattern, that the archery competition is listed as being held at either the south or west gates.  The south gate probably refers to the main gate of the later Okamoto—aka the Kiyomihara—palace.  The West gate refers to the west gate of the Ebinoko enclosure.   We talked about these and the general layout of the palace back in Episode 134, and you can check out that podcast blog post for some images of what things looked like, as well.  These gates were on the north and east sides of a large, rectangular courtyard, which was likely the actual event location.  So it isn't as if these were separate areas, just a difference of where things were set up in what was otherwise the same relative space. The following year, 681, we see similar ceremonies.  We see offerings made to the kami of Heaven and Earth, and we once again see a note about various functionaries paying their respects at court.  Even though this wasn't mentioned every year, it could have been an annual thing and just wasn't always recorded so the Chroniclers just wrote down what they had records for.  There are certainly other things we don't necessarily witness in the records, such as the annual promotions and promulgations.  We see irregular promotions, of course, such as on someone's passing, but the regular administration of the government and promotions of people to new positions is not something we really see regularly documented, since it doesn't really shed much light on the sovereign and the royal household.  And so we sometimes see things if they get mentioned, but otherwise we only see glimpses.  That would change as records became more administrative and the histories were more about simply recording what was happening—though still from a particular angle.  At this point, however, we aren't dealing with a single court record, but rather with numerous records, stories, and recollections.  That same year, 681, we also see another banquet, with Ohoama situated in the Mukai no Kodono, while the Princes of the Blood and non-royal Princes were both introduced into the inner reception chamber.  Ministers attended in the outer reception chamber.  They all received sake and musical performances, and rank advancements were given out.  Kusakabe no Kihi no Ohogata was graduated from the rank of Upper Daisen to Lower Daikin, and given the title of Naniwa no Muraji.  A few days later, Sakahibe no Muraji no Iwazumi was granted a fief with 60 horses and received presents of coarse silk, floss silk, cloth, and one hundred mattocks—the last one being a rather interesting gift, I have to admit.  Of course, in true Chronicles fashion, we have no idea why these gifts were made—we don't even have another reference to Iwazumi around there, but he must have done something. We are later told that there was the annual archery shoot, and then a decree, possibly unrelated to New Years, that the various provinces were ordered to repair the shrines to the kami of heaven and earth. The year 682 is an anomaly.  There is no mention of a banquet, nor of an archery tournament.  I wonder if this may have to do with some of the sad events of that first month.  While it started fine—Toneri no Miyatsuko no Nukamushi was raised from Daisen to Lower Shoukin—we are told that on the 18th, Lady Higami, one of Ohoama's consorts, died in the palace.  The next day there was an earthquake, and she was buried on the 27th.  A prominent illness and death may have put a pall on the ceremonies, and could explain why we don't see any mention of them for that year. It is also possible that some of this New Year tradition had become so routine that people were no longer commenting on it, and therefore the Chroniclers weren't including references to it. The following year, in 683, we again see the functionaries paying their respects.  We also see the presentation of a three legged sparrow by the Viceroy of Tsukushi, Tajihi no Mabito no Shima, along with others.  A three legged sparrow would have been something: it is reminiscent of the three legged crow, often depicted in the sun.  It is unclear if it was still alive, but that wasn't the point.  They invited the Princes of the Blood down to the Ministers to great hall, the Daigokuden, for a banquet, where the three legged sparrow was displayed. .  Later that month, Ohoama issued a decree in regards to all of the auspicious omens and made presents to everyone, from Shouken rank upwards.  There was also a general amnesty—all crimes were pardoned, from capital offenses on down, and all forced labor was remitted, so that people didn't have to provide the normal service.  The phrasing for this particular entry is intriguing.  Ohoama is mentioned as Yamato Neko Sumera no Mikoto and is specifically called a "God Incarnate".  This is one of the rare times that we see the Chronicles explicitly call out the sovereign as a living deity.  Of course, they trace the royal lineage back to Amaterasu, but there isn't a lot suggesting that the sovereign is necessarily a deity. And in reality, this was probably something that was more honorific than anything else.  Heck, at times in Japanese history we would see sovereigns selling their calligraphy to help keep the royal palace funded while warriors went around actually being in charge of things.  However, this divine language did show up in the 19th and 20th century, especially as the Tennou, now called Emperor in English terminology, once again was recognized as the Head of State, and people would actually pray to him.  Not necessarily like praying at a shrine, but out of respect.  And remember, a lot of time the Tennou was kept out of sight of regular people and hidden, much like the way that the kami were treated.  The concept of the Emperor's divinity was very much tied up in the elevation of the State and the general sense of Nationalism that had gripped Japan in the early half of the 20th century.  And so the allies quite explicitly had Emperor Showa renounce his divinity after Japan  World War II. Those studying Japanese history have probably heard of this concept, and so it is interesting to see evidence of it here, as well as the nature of the royal house, where the sovereign is kept at a distance from those of lower rank, unless they are directly serving him.  But it was not as though the sovereign was a god in the sense of being all powerful.  Even if he were considered a living, visible kami, the kami were not omnipotent, and there was no getting over the fact that our particular sovereign, Ohoama, was getting older.  Only a year or so earlier, he had suffered a rather bad illness, so he clearly was not invincible.  And it is of course possible that this language was simply royal exaggeration, rather than any attempt to define the sovereign as something more than he was.  Still, that concept would continue to play a part throughout Japanese history. The same day in 683 that Ohoama issued the pardons, we are told that there was a special performance at the Woharida Court of dance and music from Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla—the "Three Countries" of the Korean peninsula, even if only one of them was still going strong.  The Woharida palace is thought to have been north, along the banks of the Asuka River.  It may have been moved over time—there appears to have been a palace in the Furumiya area, near Toyoura, but there is also evidence of a palace by a shared name over by Ikazuchi-no-oka, on the other side of the river.  Excavations at Ikazuchi no oka revealed pottery with the name of the palace, suggesting that this was the site, but even then, that pottery was from the later Tempyo era.  Regardless, it seems that the Asuka valley was just chock full of palaces, new and old, though the older ones were not as regularly used for government functions, one assumes. The following year, 684, we again get told about the annual archery shoot.  It took place in the Eastern court this time, with Ministers in attendance.  Apparently they had men skilled in archery shooting alongside palace attendants and little people—the word used in Japanese is "Shuju" or "Hikihito".  This word is often translated as "dwarf"; it appears to be a derogatory term for anyone considered short of stature, though it is also used to refer more generally to those seen as either lacking wit or to actors and performers. This isn't the first time we see the term.  Back in 675, about 9 years prior, Ohoama had sent orders to a number of regions near the capital, from Awaji to Tamba, to Afumi and to Mino and Wohari, among others, to send as tribute common people who could sing, shuju—or dwarfs—and jugglers.  More generally they seem to be referring to entertainers, and it strikes me that could be what is meant here.  Either way, the entertainment industry was hardly a lucrative one, and we can see that performers are almost more of a commodity, to be "paid" as tribute, rather than a professional who is "hired" to work.  I suspect that, as in many other times and places, individuals who were shorter than average often found work as entertainers in this sense—whether they wished it or not. The year 685 we don't see any mention of archery, though it probably still happened.  Instead the Chronicles focus on the various government officials paying their respects to their sovereign.  The rest of the entries for the month are largely concerned with changes to the rank system as of that year. The year 686, we get the last records of various new years festivals—four months later, the sovereign would grow terribly ill, and he would eventually pass away later that year.  However, for those still celebrating the new year in 686, that was all in the future. The last year of Ohoama's reign started out relatively like others. Ohoama went to the Daigokuden, the Great Hall of Audience, and gave a banquet to the Princes and High Officials.  There he decided to have something of a riddle challenge.  He would ask riddles, and then offer prizes for the correct answer. And no, unfortunately we don't have any of the riddles, at least that I have seen.  Aston calls these "conundrums" and notes that they are specifically nonsensical questions, and provides examples such as "Why does a horse, after a rapid run, listen to the earth? Why does a dog, when he goes slowly, raise his leg?"  Ohoama's son, Prince Takechi, answered correctly, and so did Prince Ise.  Their prizes differed in content, but in both cases were pretty extensive.  The winners received ceremonial robes, brocade or purple hakama, numerous bolts of coarse silk, many pounds of thread, hundreds of pounds of flossed Silk, and hundreds of bolts of cloth. I think that makes it quite a bit more lucrative than any of the quiz nights I've ever been to. Later that month, there was another banquet, this time for nine Buddhist monks of Daikan-daiji. Besides its status as a national temple, this may have also been related to the year before, when Ohoama had fallen ill, and prayers had been offered at Daikandaiji for his recovery.  The courthad likewise provided gifts to the temple in the last month of the previous year, and then, at the banquet, gave to the attending monks silk and cloth, based on their rank. But that wasn't the end of the gifts.  The following day the Princes and High Officials all received upper garments and hakama—likely referring to official garments—each getting one suit, each. Then, on the 13th day of the new year, the court invited 20 exceptional individuals to a banquet.  These were talented people, professors, divination specialists, and physicians.  They were also wined and dined and presented various gifts. On the 16th day, the Princes and High Officials were then invited to a banquet in the Daigokuden.  They were given gifts of silk and cloth, based on their rank.  Then they held another riddle competition, with correct answers rewarded with gifts of coarse and flossed silk. This was only a short time after disaster had struck, though a bit removed—two days earlier, in the evening, the royal storehouse at Naniwa had caught fire, eventually burning the entire Toyosaki palace complex to the ground.  Some claimed that it was actually started at a private residence,  that of Ato no Muraji no Kusuri, and then spread to the Palace.  In the end, only the military storehouse was spared. This would have been quite the tragedy for the government, but it did not halt the festivities happening down in Asuka.  The Naniwa Palace appears to have been a major government center for the administration of the state, but it was not the royal court which had been in Asuka for over a decade.  Indeed, I imagine that the news probably reached Asuka around the time of the Banquet itself. And yet, rather than putting a damper on the festivities, they continued another couple of days – presumably everything was already prepared and there was no point in canceling.  On the 17th, the court sponsored a banquet in the rear palace, presumably for the Queen and members of the imperial family.  Then the following day there was a great revel at the palace.  Ohoama took his place in front of the royal muro and made presents to performers, as well as to the singers.  As before everything varied according to rank. Asuka wasn't the only place to get in on the festivities.  The same month, the court also sponsored a banquet for the Silla envoys in Tsukushi, sending Prince Kawachi and others. Regrettably, that would be the last new year that Ohoama would see.  In the fifth month, he grew ill, and what we see in the Chronicles after that is an interesting look into how people of the time dealt with sickness. First, the court had the Sutra of Yakushi expounded at Kawaradera and held a Buddhist retreat in the palace, inviting monks to come and expound Buddhist teachings.  Yakushi, or Yakushi Nyorai—Bhaisajyaguru in Sanskrit—was known as the Medicine Buddha, and his name in Sinitic characters was basically "Master of Medicine".  It is said that he was responsible for the Eastern Pure Land, and that, as a Bodhisattva, he had made 12 great vows to cure the illnesses of all living beings in the world.  For that reason, Yakushi Nyorai was often called upon to cure illness.  In fact, six years earlier, when the Queen, Uno no Sarara Hime, had taken ill, Ohoama erected an entire temple to Yakushi Nyorai, known as Yakushiji.  He then had 100 people take vows as priests, and they attributed her recovery to this effort. In this case, however, it seems that it didn't have quite such an effect, and Ohoama remained under the weather.  We are also told that the court sent Palace Attendants, the Oho-toneri, to clean the pagodas of various temples and that a general amnesty was announced for all under heaven, emptying the prisons.  All of this points to the idea of making merit in the hope of bringing good karma, and thus healing. But the following month, Ohoama was still ill.  Divination was performed by the Onmyoji, the court diviners, and they claimed that there was a curse from Kusanagi, the sword that is considered one of the three main royal symbols.  This is the sword that was said to have been found by Susanowo in the tale of Yamata no Worochi, and which gained its name, Kusanagi, when used by Yamato Takeru, cutting down the grass to save him when his enemies tried to catch him by setting fire to the field where he was hunting.  For more on that, check out Episodes 34 and 35. Given the importance of Kusanagi, I suspect that the idea of destroying it to remove the curse was out of the question, and so it was sent to Atsuta Shrine, where it was enshrined and would largely stay except when needed for enthronement ceremonies.  And yet, even after the sword was taken away, the illness remained.  Six days later, on the 16th day of the 6th month, the court sent Prince Ise and officials to Asukadera and asked the monks there to make and oath with the Buddha to make Ohoama whole through the power of the Three Treasures of Buddhism.   For their work, the three Buddhist Officers, the Master of the Law, and the Upadhyaya and temple directors, as well as those monks with the rank of "master" each received a donation of one robe and one cover, or "Ohi". Three days later, the court ordered the hundred officials to go to Kawaradera and perfom the ceremony of lighting lanterns and giving offerings to Buddha.  Then they held a great feast and offered repentance for their transgressions.  All of this sounds like a continued attempt to make merit for the state, and thus for Ohoama. We then see the court granting the monks Hounin and Gishou 30 stipend-households to provide for them in their old age, which may be more merit-making, or possibly was related to some of the many other activities so far.  There are a few issues with this entry, and Aston and Bentley don't seem to agree on the actual date.  Bentley has it on the 28th, but that seems odd as it comes before the entry for the 22nd of the same month.  Aston has it as the 20th, but then claimes that there is something odd about the date of the 22nd. On the 22nd, we are simply told that the district kitchen of Nabari caught fire.  Aston notes that this would have been the official government arm in the district gathering food to supply the royal household—rather than being a kitchen in terms of a place to prepare food. Merit-making continued into the 7th month.  We see the Soujou and Soudzu, the primary and secondary prelates of the Asukadera, performing ritual repentance.  The following day there is another general amnesty, and Aston specifically mentions performing a Oho-harai, or cleansing. The day after taxes were halved from the provinces and corvee labor with local conscripted labor was exempted for the year.  Then we see the court presenting paper offerings to the Kunikasu Kami in Ki provinces, as well as the four shrines in Asuka and the Great Suminoe—aka Sumiyoshi—shrine. On the 8th day of the 7th month, 100 monks were invited to the court to read the Golden Light Sutra—Konkoymyou kyou.  And on the 15th there was another court issued amnesty. Despite all of these attempts to make merit and intercede with the Buddha or with various kami, Ohoama's illness continued.  We see that the court issued a decree that all things that should occur, great or small, should be reported to the queen and the crown prince—presumably because Ohoama was no longer in a state to be able to do so. Continuing with their efforts, the court declared that destitute commoners who had been forced to borrow rice seed or money before the 12th month of the previous year would be exempted from repayment.  And then the court changed the name of the year to Akami-tori, or Shuuchou.  They also renamed the palace in Asuka to "Kiyomihara"—again, go check Episode 134 for more on the palace.  "Shuuchou" is the Red Bird, likely referring to Suzaku, though Aston also points out that "Asuka" here is given as "flying bird", as well, and there had been numerous bird-related omens reported throughout the reign. Although these names would not have been used prior to this point—the 7th month of the final year of the reign—the Chroniclers applied the nengo, Shuuchou, to all of the entries for this year, and the name of the palace is often given as "Kiyomihara" is given to distinguish it from the Later Okamoto Palace, even though it was simply the latter palace with the addition of the Ebinoko enclosure. The changing of the era name was likely another attempt to change the seemingly inauspicious year, along with all of the merit-making that the court had been undergoing. And yet they kept going. The court selected 70 people who were diligent in keeping Buddhist laws and had them take the tonsure, and they sponsored a feast—or festival—in the Royal Muro of the Palace. At the same time the various princes had a statue of the Boddhisatva of Compassion, Kannon, made for the sovereign and had the Lotus sutra—the sutra where Kannon is first mentioned—read out at Daikandaiji. Kannon, or Avalokitesvara, was originally seen as a male Boddhisatva, but is often depicted as a woman.  They are also known as Guanyin, from which we get Kannon in Japanese.  Guanyin is also seen as Goddess of Mercy, and is one of the most popular figures across multiple sects of Buddhism and even outside of the Buddhist faith, where she is still seen as a goddess.  In this case, however, it seems clear that the princes were seeking compassion to relieve the sovereign of his affliction. And yet it persisted. They had 80 more people take the tonsure, and then 100 more men and women, placed 100 statues of the Boddhisatva, Kannon, in the palace, and then read out 200 volumes of the Lotus Sutra. And then they made prayers to the kami of Heaven and Earth.  And they dispatched Hata no Imiki no Iwakatsu to present paper offerings to the Tosa great shrine.  Nothing seemed to be working. In the 9th month, we see the royal princes and others, down to the various ministers, all gathered at Kawaradera making oaths for the health of the sovereigns.  This last ditch effort would go unrewarded.  Five days later, and Ohoama would pass away.  Of course, they couldn't just say that he died:  The Chronicles actually say that he divinely departed.  After all, didn't they call him an incarnate kami? Two days later, the court began the ritual of mourning, raising voices in lamentation, and setting up a temporary palace of interment in the courtyard, south of the palace.  Ohoama's body was placed there some thirteen days later, and people mourned his passing. For the rituals, we see monks and nuns performing ritual lamentation in the courtyard between 3 and 5 am, around the time that court officials would normally be waiting at the gates.  Over the next several days, various ceremonies were held and eulogies given.  We are told that the court presented offerings of food for the dead for the first time, and over the next several days monks and nuns would offer their laments and then various individuals would provide their eulogies.  Finally, on the last day of the ninth month, the eulogies concluded with Nyang-u, a Baekje prince, who pronounced a eulogy on behalf of his father, and then the Miyatsuko of various provinces came and did likewise.  There were also performances of all manner of singing and dancing. With that, the reign of Ohoama would come to an end.  The government would continue under his wife, the Queen, and Crown Prince.  We'll get into the succession in a later episode.  For now I'll just say that he was eventually buried in a large tomb in the modern Noguchi area of Asuka, and you can still go see it. And while that does bring us to the end of the reign, we still have a few more things that I want to discuss.   This episode just seemed a good time to talk about all of the various new years ceremonies, and that seemed to lead naturally into the very last year, but there is still more to discuss.  For one thing, we still haven't quite covered the spread of Buddhism and the changes in the structure.  There are also various laws and punishments that are worth covering.  Finally, there are the Chronicles themselves: we've talked about it all along, but the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki are attributed to this era, as is the start of what would become the capital of Fujiwara-kyo—many works that Ohoama would not live to see to the end, but is largely held responsible for starting. But until then, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

We live in a world filled with both light and darkness, and it is in our darkest times that we need the greatest compassion. Written by a Buddhist monk from Medieval (Heian Period) Japan, this horror story brings us a woman who transforms into a demon known as an Oni. Yet the demon-woman's story challenges us to find hope, even in the darkness of her life.Mosaic Family Services is dedicated to serving survivors of human rights abuses from around the world and within the community of North Texas. https://mosaicservices.org/Mythos & Logos are two ancient words that can be roughly translated as “Story & Meaning.”Support the channel by subscribing, liking, and commenting to join the conversation!Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/mythosandlogos00:00 Introduction & Charity Announcement00:29 Screen Map of Japan00:39 Tsuina of Yoshida Shrine00:49 Dōjōji by Kōgyo Tsukioka01:20 A Woman Scorned01:37 Map of Japan, Jotokuji Temple, Momoyama Period02:10 The Demon of Mount Togakushi by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi02:46 The Demon Within02:50 Kyōri no bijin by Mizuno Toshikata03:09 Yamanba by Itō Seiu03:33 Companion In Solitude 閑居友 2:3 A Deeply Resentful Woman Becomes A Demon While Alive04:26 Apologies for the missed edit! The text leaves whether she receives the memorial unclear. Ironic considering when the sound cuts out!04:28 Transforming Suffering04:52 Jien, Collection of Portraits of Famous Writers in Chinese Literature05:06 Chapter 27 of the Lotus Sutra, Arthur M Sackler Museum, Harvard University05:31 Buddha and Bodhisattvas, Mogao Caves05:47 Lotus Sutra, Chapter 206:42 Chapter 20 of the Lotus Sutra, Jigage E Shō Zokuhen06:46 Devadatta Falling Into Hell by Katsushika Hokusai06:51 Chapter 12 of the Lotus Sutra, Metropolitan Museum of Art07:15 Wild Mountain Woman in a Cloak of Leaves by Hokkei07:58 Zhiyi Statue, Mii-dera Onjo-ji, photographed by Hyppolyte de Saint-Rambert, licensed under Creative Commons08:05 The Profound Meaning of the Lotus Sutra08:14 Compassion in Darkness08:24 Oni Chanting the Name of the Buddha by Shibata Zeshin08:49 Kujō Yoshitsune by 菱川師宣09:22 Namanari Noh Mask, photographed by Takiyama Ichiemon, licensed under Creative Commons09:25 Ooeyama Emaki09:29 Chapters 12 and 14 of the Lotus Sutra, Metropolitan Museum of Art09:52 OutroAll works of art are in the public domain unless otherwise noted.Ambiment - The Ambient by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution license.

Talking with writer, garage mystic, and Lotus Sutra enthusiast, Jigoku — anonymous poster and publisher — on Buddhist intellectual responses to civilization shift. On his treatise Theory of the End, on shitposting, on Buddhist white pills, on the Lotus Sutra, Nichirenism, utopianism, and modernity, on his analysis and response to Francis Fukuyama's The End of History and the Last Man, on Devadatta as archetype, on Jacques Ellul and the relentless onslaught of technique, on the esoteric, on on Kishio Satomi and the Nichirenist response to modernity machinery, on Nick Land, on Tetsuo: The Iron Man, on Dan da Dan, on the Hungry Ghost press and sutras on Namu Myoho Renge Kyo…Hungry Ghost Books Get full access to Leafbox at leafbox.substack.com/subscribe

Send us a textAfter attending a great mid-August mountain retreat celebrating Ram Dass (born Richard Alpert) with several hundred people -- complete with kirtan with Krishna Das (lead singer of the precursor to Blue Oyster Cult), Nina Rao, David Nichtern (who wrote "Midnight at the Oasis", for starters) and more; talks by Robert Thurman and more; and a deep rapport with many -- Fairfax criminal defense lawyer Jonathan Katz returned from the mountains and found himself repeating old patterns in dealing with such challenges as tailgating drivers. Three weeks later, Jon Katz joined his friend and peace teacher Jun Yasuda for a whole weekend at her battery-recharging peace pagoda in upstate New York, where the days were filled with mindful eating, doing concrete work, stacking wood, driving through the beautiful mountains to Bennington, VT for supplies, and repeatedly chanting the Odaimoku and sections of the Lotus Sutra. By then, Jon got back on track with the importance of focusing on both an open heart and internal peacefulness -- together with keeping touch with like-minded people -- as the way to integrate this practice in dealing with challenging people and situations, where sometimes the most challenging people are really ourselves. This applies well both to his personal life and life as a criminal defense lawyer. Blessing us in joining this Beat the Prosecution episode is Raghu Markus, a friend of the late Ram Dass and executive director of the Ram Dass Love Serve Remember Foundation (donate here and subscribe here to the foundation's extensive learning material). Raghu talks about connecting with Ram Dass and their mutual guide Neem Karoli Baba (Maharaji), how Raghu's father's joining Raghu and Maharaji in India marked a turning point in their father-son relationship, and how Raghu also can be challenged in fully applying his lessons from Maharaji in dealing with challenging situations. This is about constant daily practice, work, and connecting with like-minded people. This episode is also on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PHm_v0Ddab0This podcast with Fairfax, Virginia criminal / DUI lawyer Jon Katz is playable on all devices at podcast.BeatTheProsecution.com. For more information, visit https://KatzJustice.com or contact us at info@KatzJustice.com, 703-383-1100 (calling), or 571-406-7268 (text). If you like what you hear on our Beat the Prosecution podcast, please take a moment to post a review at our Apple podcasts page (with stars only, or else also with a comment) at https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/beat-the-prosecution/id1721413675

Whether we like it or not, we don't exist in isolation. The interconnection of life means that when we change, our environment changes as well. Today's guest, Heidi Hayashi, of Stratford, Conn., shares how finding the courage to live true to herself improved and deepened her family relationships. References:The Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace, part 2, revised edition p. 270Buddhism Day by Day: Wisdom for Modern Life, p. 315The Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra, vol. 4, p. 20Unlocking the Mysteries of Birth & DeathThe Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace, part 1, revised edition

Bright on Buddhism - Kōan Series Episode 12 - Banzan's "3 Worlds, No Dharma"Hello and welcome to a new episode of the Kōan Series. In this series, we will read and discuss real Buddhist kōans to try and better understand them. We hope you enjoy.Resources: Episode 10 - https://anchor.fm/brightonbuddhism/episodes/What-is-Zen-Buddhism-e1a2sm2Episode 18 - https://anchor.fm/brightonbuddhism/episodes/What-is-the-Buddhist-philosophy-of-speech--language--and-words-e1dgqu9Episode 32 - https://anchor.fm/brightonbuddhism/episodes/What-are-kans-e1j5sclEpisode 33 - https://anchor.fm/brightonbuddhism/episodes/What-is-emptiness-e1jc31iHori, Victor Sogen (1999). "Translating the Zen Phrase Book" (PDF). Nanzan Bulletin (23).; Hori, Victor Sogen (2000), Koan and Kensho in the Rinzai Zen Curriculum. In: Steven Heine and Dale S. Wright (eds)(2000): "The Koan. Texts and Contexts in Zen Buddhism, Oxford: Oxford University Press; Heine, Steven (2008), Zen Skin, Zen Marrow; Bielefeldt, Carl (2009), "Expedient Devices, the One Vehicle, and the Life Span of the Buddha", in Teiser, Stephen F.; Stone, Jacqueline I. (eds.), Readings of the Lotus Sutra, New York: Columbia University Press, ISBN 9780231142885; Kotatsu, Fujita; Hurvitz, Leon (1975), "One Vehicle or Three", Journal of Indian Philosophy, 3 (1/2): 79–166; Lopez, Donald (2016), The Lotus Sutra: A Biography (Kindle ed.), Princeton University Press, ISBN 978-0691152202; Lopez, Donald S.; Stone, Jacqueline I. (2019), Two Buddhas Seated Side by Side: A Guide to the Lotus Sūtra, Princeton University Press; Pye, Michael (2003), Skilful Means – A concept in Mahayana Buddhism, Routledge, ISBN 0203503791; Watson, Burton (tr.) (1993), The Lotus Sutra, Columbia University Press, ISBN 023108160X; Patrick Olivelle, trans. Life of the Buddha. Clay Sanskrit Library, 2008. 1 vols. (Cantos 1-14 in Sanskrit and English with summary of the Chinese cantos not available in the Sanskrit); Stone, Jacqueline Ilyse (2003), "Original enlightenment and the transformation of medieval Japanese Buddhism" (PDF), Studies in East Asian Buddhism, University of Hawaii Press (12), ISBN 978-0-8248-2771-7, archived from the original (PDF) on November 5, 2013; Hakeda, Yoshito S., trans. (1967), Awakening of Faith—Attributed to Aśvaghoṣa, with commentary by Yoshito S. Hakeda, New York, NY: Columbia University Press, ISBN 0-231-08336-X; Jorgensen, John; Lusthaus, Dan; Makeham, John; Strange, Mark, trans. (2019), Treatise on Awakening Mahāyāna Faith, New York, NY: Oxford University Press, ISBN 9780190297718https://www.gofundme.com/c/act/flood-relief#/⁠⁠Do you have a question about Buddhism that you'd like us to discuss? Let us know by emailing us at Bright.On.Buddhism@gmail.com.Credits:Nick Bright: Script, Cover Art, Music, Voice of Hearer, Co-HostProven Paradox: Editing, mixing and mastering, social media, Voice of Hermit, Co-Host

Chapter 2 of the Lotus Sutra - Join us as we read and discuss Chapter 2 of the Burton Watson translation of the Lotus Sutra!Resources: Hurvitz, Leon. 1976. Scripture of the Lotus Blossom of the Fine Dharma. New York:  Columbia University Press.; Kato, Bunno. 1971. The Threefold Lotus Sutra: Innumerable Meanings, The Lotus Flower of the Wonderful Law, and Meditation on the Bodhisattva Universal Virtue. Tokyo:  Kosei Publishing Company.; Kern, H. 1884. 1963. Saddharma-Puṇḍarīka or The Lotus of the True Law. London:  New York:  Clarendon Press. Dover Publications. The Sacred Books of the East, Volume XXI; Kubo, Tsugunari and Akira Yuyama. 1993. The Lotus Sutra: The White Lotus of the Marvelous Law. Tokyo and Berkeley:  Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research.; Murano, Senchū. 1974. 1991. The Lotus Sutra: The Sutra of the Lotus Flower of the Wonderful Dharma. Tokyo:  Nichiren Shu Shimbun.; Reeves, Gene. 2008. The Lotus Sutra. Boston:  Wisdom Publications.; Soothill, W.E. 1930. The Lotus of the Wonderful Law or The Lotus Gospel: Saddharma Puṇḍarīka Sūtra, Miao-fa Lien Hua Ching. Oxford:  Clarendon Press.; Watson, Burton. 1993. The Lotus Sutra. New York:  Columbia University Press.; Lopez, Donald S. The Lotus Sūtra: A Biography. Princeton; Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2016; Teiser, Stephen F., and Jacqueline I. Stone, eds. Readings of the Lotus Sutra. New York: Columbia University Press, 2009.; Lopez, Donald S., and Jacqueline I. Stone. Two Buddhas Seated Side by Side: A Guide to the Lotus Sūtra. Princeton University Press, 2019. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctvfjczvz.Do you have a question about Buddhism that you'd like us to discuss? Let us know by emailing us at Bright.On.Buddhism@gmail.com.Credits:Nick Bright: Script, Cover Art, Music, Voice of Hearer, Co-HostProven Paradox: Editing, mixing and mastering, social media, Voice of Hermit, Co-Host

We begin Chapter 8 with a reminder f the purpose of this collection of teachings to lead capacity to the jewel of the Lotus Sutra. “Buddhism Reference” – Now Available in the TLK Bookstore; www.lulu.com/spotlight/kwoon

Roshi Pat Enkyo O'Hara talks about the Lotus Sutra and the parable of the burning house. Even in the world of the dharma we can get caught up with playthings and forget that we're living in a burning house. It looks like we're living in a comfortable place, but half the world is starving. It can be hard to see the suffering that is all around us. Read the notes and transcription: https://michaelstoneteaching.com/2014/10/23/burning-house-betrayal-as-innovation-by-roshi-pat-enkyo-ohara/ The Awake in the World podcast is brought to you by the generosity of our amazing Patreon supporters, making it possible for us to keep Michael's archive of teachings available to the public. To become a patron, visit: patreon.com/michaelstone.

How can Buddhists respond to the climate emergency? Vishvapani uses the Parable of the Burning House from the Lotus Sutra to suggest our responsibilities' and finds the values we need to guide us in the Five Precepts. Excerpted from the talk Climate Precepts In The Burning House given in Cardiff, 2019. *** Help us keep FBA Podcasts free for everyone! Donate now: https://freebuddhistaudio.com/donate Subscribe to our Dharmabytes podcast: Bite-sized clips - Buddhist inspiration three times a week. Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/dharmabytes-from-free-buddhist-audio/id416832097 Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4UHPDj01UH6ptj8FObwBfB YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@FreeBuddhistAudio1967  

A talk given at Berkeley Zen Center on Thursday, June 5th 2025 by Linda Galijan.

A talk given at Berkeley Zen Center on Thursday, May 29th 2025 by Zenshin Greg Fain.

A five-week class co-taught by Linda and Greg on the Lotus Sutra during the 2025 practice period. This class is an introduction to the Sutra, emphasizing why it is essential in the Dogen Zen tradition and touching on some of the more important teachings and stories to be found therein. Their aim is to have … Continue reading The Lotus Sutra Class Three of Five →

A five-week class co-taught by Linda and Greg on the Lotus Sutra during the 2025 practice period. This class is an introduction to the Sutra, emphasizing why it is essential in the Dogen Zen tradition and touching on some of the more important teachings and stories to be found therein. Their aim is to have … Continue reading The Lotus Sutra Class Two of Five →

A five-week class co-taught by Linda and Greg on the Lotus Sutra during the 2025 practice period. This class is an introduction to the Sutra, emphasizing why it is essential in the Dogen Zen tradition and touching on some of the more important teachings and stories to be found therein. Their aim is to have it … Continue reading The Lotus Sutra Class One of Five →

"Zen in Our Time" and "Connecting the Dots" are themes that I have hit upon for 2025, forming the thread running through (one meaning of "sutra") all of my DharmaByte newsletter columns and online UnMind podcasts this year. Contextualizing the teachings and legacy of Zen in modern times — without throwing the baby out with the bathwater — is key to transmitting Zen's legacy. Connecting the dots in the vast matrix of Dharma — while bridging the gap between 500 BC to 2025 CE in terms of the cultures, causes and conditions — is necessary to foster the evolution of Shakyamuni's Great Vow, from the closing verse of the Lotus Sutra's Lifespan Chapter: I am always thinking: by what means can I cause sentient beings to be able to enter the highest path and quickly attain the Dharma? As in so many aspects of our overloaded society, when contemplating the next column or podcast, the question always arises, "Where do I begin?" I turn to my collaborators — Hokai Jeff Harper, publisher of the newsletter, and Shinjin Larry Little, producer of the podcast — for clarity and inspiration. Jeff responded to my call for suggested topics with an intriguing trio: • To everything there is a season• The wax and wane of householder zazen practice• What we are feeling right now IS impermanence manifesting itself Instead of choosing one over the others, it occurred to me that all three are important. And they are interrelated, in a kind of fish-trap narrowing of focus, from the universal span of spacetime as a causal nexus for humankind; then homing in on the social level, considering the modern householder's vacillation in attempting to pursue what began long ago as a monastic lifestyle; and finally zeroing in on the personal: the intimacy of realization within the immediate flow of reality. I will attempt to treat them in succession over the next three installments, in the context of transmission of Zen's Original Mind. TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASONIf you find the 1960s Pete Seeger song popularized by the Byrds running through your brain, you are not alone. If you recollect the poem from Ecclesiastes — which I studied in a unique, small-town high school literature course — you may be hearing echoes of: To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. Or from Tozan Ryokai: Within causes and conditions, time and season, IT is serene and illuminating And finally, from Dogen Zenji: Firewood becomes ash and it does not become firewood again.Yet do not suppose that the ash is future and the firewood past. You should understand that firewood abides in the phenomenal expression of firewood, which fully includes past and future, and is independent of past and future. Ash abides in the phenomenal expression of ash, which fully includes future and past.
 Just as firewood does not become firewood again after it is ash, you do not return to birth after death... Birth is an expression complete this moment; death is an expression complete this moment. They are like winter and spring; you do not call winter the "beginning" of spring, nor summer the "end" of spring. There are many more such incisive and insightful references to time in the literature of Zen, as well as Western thinking, of course, most notably Master Dogen's fascicle titled "Uji," which translates as something like "Being-time," "Existence-time," or "Living time," as Uchiyama-roshi renders it. This 13th Century writing is said to have anticipated the theory of Relativity, Einsteins' prodigious accomplishment, perhaps the most important scientific breakthrough of the 20th Century. But these few recollections from the rich legacy of Zen's written record will suffice for our purposes of connecting some of the dots in Indra's Net, or the modern components of the "Matrix of the Thus-Come One" as described in the Surangama Sutra. Scanning the Biblical poem, it is striking to see so many various activities and reactions to the obligations and behaviors of daily human life listed in equally dispassionate terms, not implying false equivalencies, but for example to blithely assert that there is "a time to kill" and "a time to heal"; "a time of war" and "a time of peace" — in the same breath — is in itself breathtaking, considering the admonition against killing, or murder, found in the Ten Commandments as well as the first Five Grave Precepts of Buddhism. Jumping to Master Tozan, or Dongshan, the founder of Soto Zen in 9th Century China, we find a hint of some resolution of the "whole catastrophe" in his reference to "IT" being "serene and illuminating," regardless of time and season, causes and conditions. This "it" appears in various Buddhist sayings and teachings, as tathata in Sanskrit — the inexpressible; or inmo in Japanese — the ineffable, the essential. These all point to what I analogize as a "singularity of consciouness" that emerges in zazen, where we pass the event horizon of conventional perception — the mind collapsing inward of its own mass — returning to and revealing our Original Mind, merging subject and object, duality and nonduality, in mokurai — the resolution of all apparent dichotomies. Earlier in Tozan's Precious Mirror Samadhi, or Hokyo Zammai, from which the above quote is taken, he magnifies the central place of this "it" in the experiential realm of Zen realization: Although IT is not constructed, IT is not beyond wordsLike facing a precious mirror, form and reflection behold each otherYou are not IT but in truth IT is you Master Dogen's coinage of "the backward step" captures this 180-degree attitude adjustment in the way we usually approach learning, self-improvement, and general development as human beings on the learning curve of reality. "From the very beginning all beings are buddhas," as Hakuin Zenji, 18th Century Rinzai Zen master, poet and artist states in the first line of his famous poem, "Song of Zazen." For every thing there may be a season, but when it comes to the most important thing in Buddhism, there is fundamentally no change — from beginning to middle to end — of this "poor player," life, strutting and fretting his/her hour upon the stage. In another line from Chinese Zen, the third Ancestor in 6th Century China captures this succinctly: Change appearing to occur in the empty world we call realonly because of our ignorance. So, somehow, once again, we are getting it all wrong, backwards. Our recourse is, of course, to get our butts back to the cushion; trust the original mind; take the backward step; and embrace the revolutionary notion that WE are not IT, but in truth IT is US. I cannot resist the urge to close this segment with one of my favorite quotes from the great Master Pogo: We have met the enemy and he is us. It may be a comfort to realize that "mine enemy grows older" as we age. We just have to outlive our enemies, including our own ignorance. Next month we will take up the second suggestion, the waxing and waning of householder zazen practice. Been there, done that.

This episode we will finish up the travels of Xuanzang, who circumnavigated the Indian subcontinent while he was there, spending over a decade and a half travelings, visiting important Buddhist pilgrimage sites, and studying at the feet of learned monks of India, and in particular at Nalanda monastery--a true center of learning from this period. For more, check out our blogpost page:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-122 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 122:  Journey to the West, Part 3 The courtyard at Nalanda was quiet.  Although hundreds of people were crowded in, trying to hear what was being said, they were all doing their best to be silent and still.  Only the wind or an errant bird dared speak up.  The master's voice may not have been what it once was—he was definitely getting on in years—but Silabhadra's mind was as sharp as ever. At the front of the crowd was a relatively young face from a far off land.  Xuanzang had made it to the greatest center of learning in the world, and he had been accepted as a student of perhaps the greatest sage of his era.  Here he was, receiving lessons on some of the deepest teachings of the Mahayana Buddhist sect, the very thing he had come to learn and bring home. As he watched and listened with rapt attention, the ancient teacher began to speak….   For the last two episodes, and continuing with this one, we have been covering the travels of the monk Xuanzang in the early 7th century, starting around 629 and concluding in 645.  Born during the Sui dynasty, Xuanzang felt that the translations of the Buddhist sutras available in China were insufficient—many of them had been made long ago, and often were translations of translations.  Xuanzang decided to travel to India in the hopes of getting copies in the original language to provide more accurate translations of the sutras, particularly the Mahayana sutras.  His own accounts of his journeys, even if drawn from his memory years afterwards, provide some of our most detailed contemporary evidence of the Silk Road and the people and places along the way.  After he returned, he got to work on his translations, and became quite famous.  Several of the Japanese students of Buddhism who traveled to the Tang dynasty in the 650s studied under him directly and brought his teachings back to Japan with them.  His school of “Faxiang” Buddhism became known in Japan as the Hosso sect, and was quite popular during the 7th and 8th centuries.  Xuanzang himself, known as Genjou in Japan, would continue to be venerated as an important monk in the history of Buddhism, and his travels would eventually be popularized in fantastic ways across East Asia. Over the last couple of episodes we talked about Xuanzang's illegal and harrowing departure from the Tang empire, where he had to sneak across the border into the deserts of the Western Regions.  We then covered his time traveling from Gaochang, to Suyab, and down to Balkh, in modern Afghanistan.  This was all territory under the at least nominal control of the Gokturk empire.  From Balkh he traveled to Bamyan, and then on to Kapisa, north of modern Kabul, Afghanistan.  However, after Kapisa, Xuanzang was finally entering into the northern territories of what he knew as “India”, or “Tianzhu”. Here I would note that I'm using “India” to refer not to a single country, but to the entirety of the Indian subcontinent, and all of the various kingdoms there -- including areas now part of the modern countries of Afghanistan, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka.  The Sinitic characters used to denote this region are pronounced, today, as “Tianzhu”, with a rough meaning of “Center of Heaven”, but it is likely that these characters were originally pronounced in such a way that the name likely came from terms like “Sindhu” or “Induka”.  This is related to the name of the Sindh or Indus river, from which India gets its name.  Xuanzang's “Record of the Western Regions” notes that the proper pronunciation of the land should be “Indu”.  In Japan, this term was transmitted through the Sinitic characters, or kanji, and pronounced as “Tenjiku”.  Since it featured so prominently in the stories of the life of the Buddha and many of the Buddhist sutras, Tenjiku was known to the people of the Japanese archipelago as a far off place that was both real and fantastical. In the 12th century, over a thousand stories were captured for the “Konjaku Monogatarishu”, or the “Collection of Tales Old and New”, which is divided up into tales from Japan, China, and India.  In the famous 9th or 10th century story, “Taketori Monogatari”, or the “Bamboo-Cutter's Tale”, about princess Kaguya hime, one of the tasks the princess sets to her suitors is to go to India to find the begging bowl of the Buddha.  Records like those produced by Xuanzang and his fellow monks, along with the stories in the sutras, likely provided the majority of what people in the Japanese archipelago knew about India, at least to begin with. Xuanzang talks about the land of India as being divided into five distinct parts—roughly the north, south, east, west, and center.  He notes that three sides face the sea and that the Snow Mountains—aka the Himalayas—are in the north.  It is, he says, “Wide in the north and narrow in the south, in the shape of a crescent moon”.  Certainly the “Wide in the north and narrow in the south” fit the subcontinent accurately enough, and it is largely surrounded by the waters of what we know as the Indian Ocean to the west, the east, and the south.  The note about the Crescent Moon might be driven by Xuanzang's understanding of a false etymology for the term “Indus”, which he claims comes from the word for “moon”.  Rather, this term appears to refer to the Indus River, also known as the Sindh or Sindhus, which comes from an ancient word meaning something like “River” or “Stream”. Xuanzang also notes that the people of the land were divided into castes, with the Brahman caste at the top of the social hierarchy.    The land was further divided into approximately 70 different countries, according to his accounts.  This is known broadly as the Early Medieval period, in India, in which the region was divided into different kingdoms and empires that rose and fell across the subcontinent, with a total size roughly equivalent to that covered by the countries of the modern European Union.  Just like Europe, there were many different polities and different languages spoken across the land – but just as Latin was the common language in Europe, due to its use in Christianity, Sanskrit was the scholarly and religious language in much of India, and could also be used as a bridge language.  Presumably, Xuanzang understood Sanskrit to some extent as a Buddhist monk.  And, just a quick note, all of this was before the introduction of Islam, though there were other religions also practiced throughout the subcontinent, but Xuanzang was primarily focused on his Buddhist studies. Xuanzang describes India as having three distinct seasons—The hot season, the rainy season, and the cold season, in that order.  Each of these were four month long periods.  Even today, the cycle of the monsoon rains is a major impact on the life of people in South Asia.  During the rainy season, the monks themselves would retreat back to their monasteries and cease their wanderings about the countryside. This tradition, called “Vassa”, is still a central practice in many Theravada Buddhist societies such as Thailand and Laos today, where they likewise experience this kind of intensely wet monsoon season. Xuanzang goes on to give an in depth analysis of the people and customs of the Indian subcontinent, as he traveled from country to country. So, as we've done before, we'll follow his lead in describing the different locations he visited. The first country of India that Xuanzang came to was the country of Lampa, or Lamapaka, thought to be modern Laghman province in Afghanistan.  At the time it was a dependency of Kapisa.  The Snow Mountains, likely meaning the Hindu Kush, the western edge of the Himalayas, lay at its north, while the “Black Mountains” surrounded it on the other three sides.  Xuanzang mentions how the people of Lampa grow non-glutinous rice—likely something similar to basmati rice, which is more prevalent in South Asian cuisine, as compared to glutinous rice like more often used in East Asia. From Lampa he headed to Nagarahara, likely referring to a site near the Kabul River associated with the ruins of a stupa called Nagara Gundi, about 4 kilometers west of modern Jalalabad, Afghanistan.  This was another vassal city-state of Kapisa.  They were still Mahayana Buddhists, but there were other religions as well, which Xuanzang refers to as “heretical”, though I'm not entirely sure how that is meant in this context.  He does say that many of the stupas were dilapidated and in poor condition. Xuanzang was now entering areas where he likely believed the historical Buddha had once walked.  In fact, Lampa was perhaps the extent of historical Buddha's travels, according to the stories and the sutras, though this seems unlikely to have been true.  The most plausible locations for the Historical Buddha's pilgrimages were along the Ganges river, which was on the other side of the subcontinent, flowing east towards modern Kolkatta and the Bengal Bay.  However, as Buddhism spread, so, too, did stories of the Buddha's travels.  And so, as far as Xuanzang was concerned, he was following in the footsteps of the Buddha. Speaking of which, at Nagarahara, Xuanzang mentions “footprints” of the Buddha.  This is a Buddhist tradition found in many places.  Xuanzang claims that the Tathagatha, the Englightened One, or the Buddha, would fly, because when he walked the land itself shook.  Footprint shapes in rock could be said to be evidence of the Buddha's travels.  Today, in many Buddhist areas you can find footprints carved into rock conforming to stories about the Buddha, such as all the toes being of the same length, or other various signs.  These may have started out as natural depressions in the rock, or pieces of artwork, but they were believed by many to be the actual point at which the Buddha himself touched down.  There are famous examples of these footprints in Sri Lanka, Thailand, and China.  Of course there are also traditions of creating images of the footprint as an object of worship.  Images of footprints, similar to images of the Great Wheel of the Law, may have been some of the earliest images for veneration, as images of the Buddha himself did not appear until much later in the tradition.  One of the oldest such footprints in Japan is at Yakushiji temple, and dated to 753.  It was created based on a rubbing brought back by an envoy to the Tang court, while they were in Chang'an. Like Buddha footprints, there are many other images and stories that show up multiple times in different places, even in Xuanzang's own narrative.  For example, in Nagarahara Xuanzang also shares a story of a cave, where an image of the Buddha could be just barely made out on the wall – maybe maybe an old carving that had just worn away, or maybe an image that was deliberately placed in the darkness as a metaphor for finding the Buddha—finding enlightenment.  This is not an uncommon theme in Buddhism as a whole.  In any case, the story around this image was that it had been placed there to subdue a naga. Now a naga is a mythical snake-like being, and  we are told that this particular naga was the reincarnation of a man who had invoked a curse on the nearby kingdom, then threw himself from a cliff in order to become a naga and sow destruction.  As the story went, the man was indeed reborn, but before he could bring destruction, the Buddha showed up and subdued him, convincing him that this was not right.  And so the naga agreed to stay in the cave, where the Buddha left an image—a shadow—to remind the naga any time that its thoughts might turn to destruction. Later in his travels, at a place name Kausambi, Xuanzang mentions another cave where the Buddha had subdued a venomous dragon and left his shadow on the cave wall.  Allowing for the possibility that the Buddha just had a particular M.O. when dealing with destructive beings, we should also consider the possibility that the story developed in one region—probably closer to the early center of Buddhism, and then traveled outward, such that it was later adopted and adapted to local traditions.  From Nagarahara, Xuanzang continued to the country of Gandhara and its capital city of Purushapura, aka modern Peshwar.  This kingdom was also under vassalage to the Kapisan king.  Here and elsewhere in the journey, Xuanzang notes not only evidence of the historical Buddha, but also monasteries and stupas purported to have been built by King Kanishka and King Asoka.  These were important figures who were held in high regard for spreading Buddhism during their reign.  Continuing through the region of Gandhara, he also passed through Udakhand and the city of Salatura, known as the birthplace of the ancient Sanskrit grammarian, Daksiputra Panini, author of the Astadhyayi [Aestudjayi].  This work is the oldest surviving description of classical Sanskrit, and used grammatical and other concepts that wouldn't be introduced into Western linguistics for eons.  Daksiputra Panini thrived around the 5th or 4th century BCE, but was likely one of the reasons that Sanskrit continued to be used as a language of scholarship and learning even as it died out of usage as the day to day language of the common people.  His works and legacy would have been invaluable to translators like Xuanzang in understanding and translating from Sanskrit. Xuanzang continued on his journey to Kashmira, situated in the Kashmir Valley.  This valley sits between the modern states of Pakistan and India, and its ownership is actively disputed by each.  It is the namesake of the famous cashmere wool—wool from the winter coats of a type of goat that was bred in the mountainous regions.  The winter coat would be made of soft, downy fibers and would naturally fall out in the spring, which the goatherds harvested and made into an extremely fine wool.  In the 7th century and earlier, however, the region was known not as much for its wool, but as a center for Hindu and Buddhist studies.  Xuanzang ended up spending two years in Kashmira studying with teachers there.  Eventually, though, he continued on, passing through the country of Rajpura, and continuing on to Takka and the city of Sakala—modern day Sialkot in the Punjab region of modern Pakistan.  Leaving Sakala, he was traveling with a group when suddenly disaster struck and they were accosted by a group of bandits.  They took the clothes and money of Xuanzang and those with him and then they drove the group into a dry pond in an attempt to corral them while they figured out what they would do—presumably meaning kill them all.  Fortunately for the group, there was a water drain at the southern edge of the pond large enough for one man to pass through.  Xuanzang and one other went through the gap and they were able to escape to a nearby village.  Once they got there, they told the people what had happened, and the villagers quickly gathered weapons and ran out to confront the brigands, who saw a large group coming and ran away.  Thus they were able to rescue the rest of Xuanzang's traveling companions.  Xuanzang's companions were devastated, having lost all of their possessions.  However, Xuanzang comforted them.  After all, they still had their lives.  By this time, Xuanzang had certainly seen his fair share of life and death problems along the road.  They continued on, still in the country of Takka, to the next great city.  There they met a Brahman, and once they told him what had happened, he started marshalling the forces of the city on their behalf.  During Xuanzang's stay in Kashmira, he had built a reputation, and people knew of the quote-unquote “Chinese monk”.  And even though the people in this region were not necessarily Buddhist—many were “heretics” likely referring to those of Hindu faith—the people responded to this pre-Internet “GoFundMe” request with incredible generosity.  They brought Xuanzang food and cloth to make into suits of clothes.  Xuanzang distributed this to his travel companions, and ended up still having enough cloth for 50 suits of clothes himself.  He then stayed at that city a month. It is odd that they don't seem to mention the name of this location.  Perhaps there is something unspeakable about it?  Still, it seems that they were quite generous, even if they were “heretics” according to Xuanzang. From the country of Takka, he next proceeded to the kingdom of Cinabhukti, where he spent 14 months—just over a year—studying with the monks there.  Once he had learned what he could, he proceeded onwards, passing through several countries in northern India until he came to the headwaters of the sacred Ganges rivers.  The Indus and the Ganges rivers are in many ways similar to the Yellow River and Yangzi, at least in regards to their importance to the people of India.  However, whereas the Yellow River and Yangzi both flow east towards the Pacific Ocean, the Indus and Ganges flow in opposite directions.  The Indus flows southwest, from the Himalayas down through modern India into modern Pakistan, emptying into the western Indian Ocean.  The Ganges flows east along the base of the Himalayas and enters the eastern Indian Ocean at Kolkatta.   At the headwaters of the Ganges, Xuanzang found a Buddhist monk named Jayagupta and chose to spend the winter and half of the following spring listening to his sermons and learning at his feet. From there he continued his travels, and ended up being summoned by King Harshavardhana of Kanyakubja, known today as the modern city of Kannauj.  Harshavardhana ruled an immense state that covered much of the territory around the sacred Ganges river.  As word of this strange monk from a far off land reached him, the King wanted to see him for himself.  Xuanzang stayed in Kannauj for three months, completing his studies of the Vibhasha Shastra, aka the Abhidarmma Mahavibhasha Shastra, known in Japanese as the Abidatsuma Daibibasharon, or just as the Daibibasharon or the Basharon, with the latter two terms referring to the translations that Xuanzang performed.   This work is not a sutra, per se, but rather an encyclopedic work that attempted to speak on all of the various doctrinal issues of its day.  It is thought to have been authored around 150 CE, and was influential in the Buddhist teachings of Kashmira, when that was a center of Orthodoxy at the time.  This is what Xuanzang had started studying, and it seems that in Kannauj he was finally able to grasp everything he felt he needed to know about it in order to effectively translate it and teach it when he returned.  That said, his quest was not over.  And after his time in Kannauj, he decided to continue on. His next stop was at the city of Ayodhya.  This was—and is—a city of particular importance in Hindu traditions.  It is said to be the city mentioned in the epic tale known as the Ramayana, though many argue that it was simply named that later in honor of that ancient city.  It does appear to be a city that the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, visited and where he preached.  It was also the home of a famous monk from Gandhara who authored a number of Buddhist tomes and was considered, at least by Xuanzang, a proper Boddhisatva.  And so Xuanzang spent some time paying homage to the places where the Buddha and other holy figures had once walked. “Ayodhya” appears in many forms across Asia.  It is a major pilgrimage center, and the city of “Ayutthaya” in Thailand was named for it, evoking the Ramayana—known in Thai as the Ramakien—which they would adopt as their own national story.  In Silla, there is a story that queen Boju, aka Heo Hwang-ok, wife to the 2nd century King Suro of Geumgwan Gaya, traveled to the peninsula all the way from the foreign country of “Ayuta”, thought to mean Ayodhya.  Her story was written down in the Gaya histories and survives as a fragment found in the Samguk Yusa.  Members of the Gimhae Kim, Gimhae Heo, and Incheon Yi clans all trace their lineage back to her and King Suro. From Ayodhya, Xuanzang took a trip down the Ganges river.  The boat was packed to bursting with some 80 other travelers, and as they traveled towards a particularly heavily forested area, they were set upon by bandits, who rowed their ships out from hiding in the trees and forced the travelers to the shore.  There the bandits made all the travelers strip down and take off their clothing so that the bandits could search for gold or valuables.  According to Xuanzang's biography, these bandits were followers of Durga, a Hindu warrior-goddess, and it is said that each year they would look for someone of particularly handsome features to sacrifice to her.  With Xuanzang's foreign features, they chose him.  And so they took him to be killed.  Xuanzang mentioned that he was on a pilgrimage, and that by interrupting him before they finished he was worried it might be inauspicious for them, but he didn't put up a fight and merely asked to be given time to meditate and calm his mind and that they perform the execution quickly so that he wouldn't even notice. From there, according to the story, a series of miracles occurred that ended up with Xuanzang being released and the bandits worshipping at his feet.  It is times like this we must remember that this biography was being written by Xuanzang's students based on stories he told them about his travels.  While being accosted by bandits on the river strikes me as perfectly plausible, we don't necessarily have the most reliable narrators, so I'm going to have to wonder about the rest.  Speaking of unreliable narration, the exact route that Xuanzang traveled from here on is unclear to me, based on his stated goals and where he was going.  It is possible that he was wandering as opportunities presented themselves —I don't know that he had any kind of map or GPS, like we've said in the past.  And it may be that the routes from one place to another were not always straightforward.  Regardless, he seems to wander southeast for a period before turning again to the north and eventually reaching the city of Shravasti. Shravasti appeared in our discussion of the men of Tukhara in Episode 119.  With the men of Tukhara there was also mentioned a woman from Shravasti.  While it is unlikely that was actually the case—the names were probably about individuals from the Ryukyuan island chain rather than from India—it is probably worth nothing that Shravasti was a thriving place in ancient times.  It was at one time the capital city of the kingdom of Kosala, sharing that distinction with the city of Ayodhya, back in the 7th to 5th centuries BCE.  It is also where the historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, was said to have spend many years of his life.  This latter fact would have no doubt made it a place of particular importance to Xuanzang on his journeys. From there he traveled east, ending up following the foothills of the Himalayas, and finally came to some of the most central pilgrimages sites for followers of the historical Buddha.  First, he reached Lumbini wood, in modern Nepal, said to have been the birthplace of Prince Siddhartha Gautama, the Buddha.  And then he visited Kushinagara, the site where the Buddha ascended to nirvana—in other words, the place where he passed away.  From there, he traveled to Varanasi, and the deer park monastery, at the place where the Buddha is said to have given one of his most famous sermons.  He even visited the Bodhi tree, the tree under which Siddhartha Gautama is said to have attained enlightenment.  He spent eight or nine days there at Bodhgaya, and word must have spread about his arrival, because several monks from the eminent Nalanda Monastery called upon him and asked him to come to the monastery with them. Nalanda Monastery was about 80 km from Bodhgaya.  This was a grand monastery and center of learning—some say that it was, for a time, the greatest in the world.  It had been founded in the 5th century by the Gupta dynasty, and many of the Gupta rulers and others donated to support the monastery, which also acted as a university.  After the fall of the Gupta dynasty, the monastery was supported by King Harsha of Kannauj, whom Xuanzang had visited earlier.  It ultimately thrived for some 750 years, and is considered by some to be the oldest residential university—meaning that students would come to the temple complex and stay in residence for years at a time to study.  According to Xuanzang, Nalanda hosted some 10,000 monks. Including hosts and guests.  They didn't only study Buddhist teachings, but also logic, grammar, medicine, and divination.  Lectures were given at more than 100 separate places—or classrooms—every day.  It was at Nalanda, that Xuanzang would meet the teacher Silabhadra, who was known as the Right Dharma Store.  Xuanzang requested that he be allowed to study the Yogacharabhumi Shastra—the Yugashijiron, in Japanese.  This is the work that Xuanzang is said to have been most interested in, and one of the works that he is credited with bringing back in one of the first full translations to the Tang dynasty and then to others in East Asia.  It is an encyclopedic work dedicated to the various forms of Yogacara practice, which focuses on the mental disciplines, and includes yoga and meditation practices.  It has a huge influence on nearly all Mahayana schools, including things like the famous Zen and Pure Land schools of Buddhism.  The Yogacharabhumi Shastra is the earliest such encyclopedic work, compiled between the 3rd and 5th centuries—so even if the monk Faxian had brought portions of it back, it was probably not in the final form that Xuanzang was able to access. Silabhadra, for his part, was an ancient teacher—some put his age at 106 years, and his son was in his 70s.  He was one of the few at Nalandra who supposedly knew all of the various texts that they had at the monastery, including the Yogacarabhumi Shastra.  Xuanzang seems to have been quite pleased to study under him.  Xuanzang stayed at the house of Silabhadra's son, Buddhabhadra, and they welcomed him with entertainment that lasted seven days.  We are told that he was then given his own lodgings, a stipend of spices, incense, rice, oil, butter, and milk, along with a servant and a Brahman.  As a visiting monk, he was not responsible for the normal monastic duties, instead being expected to spend the time in study.  Going out, he was carried around by an elephant.   This was certainly the royal treatment. Xuanzang's life at Nalandra wasn't all books: south of the monastery was the city of Rajagrha, the old capital of the kingdom of Magadha, where the ancient Gupta kings had once lived, and on occasional breaks from his studies, Xuanzang would venture out to see the various holy sites.  This included the famous Mt. Grdhrakuta, or Vulture Peak, a location said to be favored by the historical Buddha and central to the Lotus Sutra, arguably the founding document of Mahayana Buddhist tradition. After all, “Mahayana” means “Greater Vehicle” and it is in the Lotus Sutra that we see the metaphor of using different vehicles to escape a burning house.   We've already talked a bit about how the image of Vulture Peak had already become important in Japanese Buddhism: In Episode 112 we talked about how in 648, Abe no Oho-omi had drums piled up at Shitennoji in the shape of Vulture Peak. But although the sightseeing definitely enhanced his experience, Xuanzang was first and foremost there to study.  He spent 15 months just listening to his teacher expound on the Yogacarabhumi Shastra, but he also heard expositions on various other teachings as well.  He ended up studying at Nalandra Monastery for 5 years, gaining a much better understanding of Sanskrit and the various texts, which would be critically important when it came to translating them, later. But, Xuanzang was not one to stay in any one place forever, and so after 5 years—some 8 years or more into his journey, he continued on, following the Ganges east, to modern Bangladesh.  Here he heard about various other lands, such as Dvarapati—possibly referring to Dvaravati, in modern Thailand, as well as Kamalanka and Isanapura.  The latter was in modern Cambodia, the capital of the ancient Chenla kingdom.  Then Mahacampa—possibly referring to the Champa region of Vietnam—and the country of Yamanadvipa.  But there was still more of India for Xuanzang to discover, and more teachings to uncover, and so Xuanzang decided instead to head southwest, following the coast.  He heard of the country of Sinhala, referring to the island of Sri Lanka, but he was urged not to go by ship, as the long journey was perilous.  Instead he could stay on relatively dry land and head down to the southern tip of the subcontinent and then make a quick hop from there across to the island.  He traveled a long distance, all the way down to Kancipuram, the seat of the Pallava dynasty, near modern day Chennai.  From the seaport near Kancipuram, it was only three days to Sinhala—that is to say Sri Lanka—but before he could set out, he met a group of monks who had just arrived.  They told him that the king of Sinhala had died , and there was a great famine and civil disturbances.  So they had fled with some 300 other monks. Xuanzang eventually decided not to make the journey, but he did talk with the monks and gathered information on the lands to the south, on Sri Lanka, and on the islands south of that, by which I suspect he may have meant the Maldives.  While Sri Lanka is an area important to Buddhist scholarship, particularly to the Theravada schools, this likely did not impress Xuanzang, and indeed he seemed to feel that his studies in Nalanda had more than provided him what he needed.  Sri Lanka, however, is the source of the Pali canon, one of the most complete early canons of Buddhism, which had a huge influence on Theravada Buddhism in Southeast Asia and elsewhere. So Xuanzang took plenty of notes but decided to forego the ocean voyage and headed northwest, instead.  He traveled across the breadth of India to Gujarat, and then turned back east, returning to pay respects once more to his teacher in Nalanda.  While there he heard of another virtuous monk named Prajnabhadra at a nearby monastery.  And so he went to spend several months with him, as well.  He also studied with a layman, Sastrin Jayasena, at Stickwood Hill.  Jayasena was a ksatriya, or nobleman, by birth, and studied both Buddhist and non-Buddhist texts.  He was courted by kings, but had left to continue his studies.  Xuanzang studied with him for another couple of years. Xuanzang remained at Nalanda, learning and teaching, expounding on what he had learned and gathering many copies of the various documents that he wished to take back with him, though he wondered how he might do it.  In the meantime, he also acquired quite the reputation.  We are told that King Siladitya had asked Nalanda for monks who could refute Theravada teachings, and Xuanzang agreed to go.  It isn't clear, but it seems that “Siladitya” was a title, and likely referred to King Harsha of Kannauj, whom we mentioned earlier.  Since he was a foreigner, then there could be no trouble that was brought on Nalanda and the other monks if he did poorly.  While he was waiting to hear back from Siladitya's court, which was apparently taking time to arrange things, the king of Kamarupta reached out to Nalanda with a request that Xuanzang come visit them.  While Xuanzang was reluctant to be gone too long, he was eventually encouraged to go and assuage the king. Kamarupta was a kingdom around the modern Assam region, ruled by King Bhaskaravarman, also known as King Kumara, a royal title.  This kingdom included parts of Bangladesh, Bhutan, and Nepal.  Bhaskaravarman, like so many other regents, seems to have been intrigued by the presence of this foreign monk, who had traveled all this way and who had studied at the famous Nalanda Monastery in Magadha. He invited Xuanzang to come to him.  Xuanzang's teacher, Silabhadra, had exhorted him to spread the right Dharma, and to even go to those non-Buddhists in hopes that they might be converted, or at least partially swayed. King Bhaskaravarman was quite taken with Xuanzang, wining and dining him while listening to him preach.  While there, Xuanzang learned about the country of Kamarupta.  He also learned about a path north, by which it was said it was a two month journey to arrive at the land of Shu, in the Sichuan Basin, on the upper reaches of the Yangzi – a kind of shortcut back to the Tang court.  However, the journey was treacherous—possibly even more treacherous than the journey to India had been. Eventually word reached the ears of King Siladitya that Xuanzang was at the court of King Bhaskaravarman, and Siladitya got quite upset.  Xuanzang had not yet come to *his* court, so Siladitya demanded that Bhaskaravarman send the monk to him immediately.  Bhaskaravarman refused, saying he'd rather give Siladitya his own head, which Siladitya said he would gladly accept.  Bhaskaravarman realized he may have miscalculated, and so he sailed up the Ganges with a host of men and Xuanzang to meet with Siladitya.  After a bit of posturing, Siladitya met with Xuanzang, who went with him, and eventually confronted the members of the Theravada sect in debate.  Apparently it almost got ugly, but for the King's intervention.  After a particularly devastating critique of the Theravada position, the Theravada monks are blamed for trying to use violence against Xuanzang and his fellow Mahayana monks from Nalanda, who were prepared to defend themselves.  The King had to step in and break it up before it went too far. Ultimately, Xuanzang was a celebrity at this point and both kings seem to have supported him, especially as he was realizing it was about time to head back to his own country.  Both kings was offered ships, should Xuanzang wish to sail south and then up the coast.  However, Xuanzang elected to take the northern route, hoping to go back through Gaochang, and see that city and its ruler again.  And so the Kings gave him money and valuables , along with wagons for all of the texts.  They also sent an army to protect all of the treasures, and even an elephant and more – sending him back in style with a huge send-off. So Xuanzang retraced his earlier steps, this time on an elephant.  He traveled back to Taxila, to Kashmir, and beyond.  He was invited to stay in Kashmira, but because of his retinue, he wasn't quite at leisure to just go where he wanted.  At one point, near Kapisa—modern Bagram, north of Kabul—they had to cross a river, and about 50 of the almost 700 documents were lost.  The King of Kapisa heard of this and had his own monks make copies to replace them based on their own schools.  The King of Kasmira, hearing that he was in Kapisa, also came to pay his respects. Xuanzang traveled with the King of Kapisa northwest for over a month and reached Lampaka, where he did take some time to visit the various holy sites before continuing northwest.  They had to cross the Snow Mountains—the outskirts of the Himalayas, and even though it wasn't the highest part of the range it was still challenging.  He had to dismount his elephant and travel on foot.  Finally, after going over the high mountains and coming down, he arrived back in the region of Tukhara, in the country of Khowst.  He then came to Kunduz, and paid his respects to the grandson of Yehu Khan.  He was given more guards to escort him eastward, traveling with some merchants.  This was back in Gokturk controlled lands, over a decade later than when he had last visited.  He continued east to Badakshan, stopping there for a month because of the cold weather and snow.  He eventually traveled through the regions of Tukhara and over the Pamir range.  He came down on the side of the Tarim Basin, and noted how the rivers on one side flowed west, while on the other side they flowed east.  The goings were treacherous, and at one point they were beset by bandits.  Though he and the documents were safe, his elephant panicked and fled into the river and drowned.  He eventually ended up in the country of Kashgar, in modern Xinjiang province, at the western edge of the Taklamakan desert. From there he had two options.  He could go north and hug the southern edge of the Tianshan mountains, or he could stay to the south, along the northern edge of the Himalayan range and the Tibetan plateau.  He chose to go south.  He traveled through Khotan, a land of wool and carpets.  This was a major trade kingdom, and they also grew mulberry trees for silkworms, and were known for their jade.  The king himself heard of Xuanzang and welcomed him, as many others had done.  While he was staying at the Khotanese capital, Xuanzang penned a letter to the Tang court, letting them know of his journey, and that he was returning.  He sent it with some merchants and a man of Gaochang to deliver it to the court. Remember, Xuanzang had left the Tang empire illegally.  Unless he wanted to sneak back in his best hope was that the court was willing to forgive and forget all of that, given everything that he was bringing back with him.  The wait was no doubt agonizing, but he did get a letter back.  It assured him that he was welcome back, and that all of the kingdoms from Khotan back to the governor of Dunhuang had been made aware and were ready to receive him. With such assurances, Xuanzang packed up and headed out.  The king of Khotan granted him more gifts to help see him on his way.  Nonetheless, there was still a perilous journey ahead.  Even knowing the way, the road went through miles and miles of desert, such that in some places you could only tell the trail by the bleached bones of horses and travelers who had not been so fortunate.  Eventually, however, Xuanzang made it to the Jumo River and then on to Dunhuang, from whence he was eventually escorted back to the capital city. It was now the year 645, the year of the Isshi Incident in Yamato and the death of Soga.  Xuanzang had been gone for approximately 16 years.  In that time, the Tang had defeated the Gokturks and taken Gaochang, expanding their control over the trade routes in the desert.  Xuanzang, for his part, was bringing back 657 scriptures, bound in 520 bundles carried by a train of some 20 horses.  He was given a hero's welcome, and eventually he would be set up in a monastery where he could begin the next part of his journey:  Translating all of these books. This was the work of a lifetime, but it is one that would have a profound impact on Buddhism across East Asia.  Xuanzang's translations would revolutionize the understanding of Mahayana Buddhist teachings, and students would come from as far away as the Yamato court to study under him and learn from the teacher who studied and taught at none other than Nalanda monastery itself.  His school would become popular in the Yamato capital, and the main school of several temples, at least for a time.  In addition, his accounts and his biography would introduce many people to the wider world of central and south Asia.  While I could go on, this has already been a story in three parts, and this is, after all, the Chronicles of Japan, so we should probably tune back into what is going on with Yamato.  Next episode, we'll look at one of the most detailed accounts we have of a mission to Chang'an. Until then, I hope that this has been enjoyable.  Xuanzang's story is one of those that isn't just about him, but about the interconnected nature of the entire world at the time.  While his journey is quite epic, there were many people traveling the roads, though most of them didn't write about it afterwards.  People, artifacts, and ideas traveled much greater distances than we often consider at this time, well before any kind of modern travel.  It was dangerous, but often lucrative, and it meant that various regions could have influence well beyond what one might expect. And so, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan

Speaking of watching your Ps and Qs, when taking up the way of Zen meditation, it may seem all too easy to get things backward. In fact, according to the great Zen ancestors, getting it wrong is a natural and necessary part of the process, expressed as "Fall down seven times, get up eight," apparently an old Chinese saying adopted by Master Dogen. He also said that hitting the bullseye depends upon the 100 prior misses. So we are inevitably immersed in trial and error. In considering Buddha's original teaching in the First Sermon — outlining the Four Noble Truths, including the Eightfold Path — one aspect is often overlooked. Along with the fact that they consist of a description of reality and a prescription for practice, respectively, they also include four admonitions, or instructions for how to approach implementing them. I think of these as the four "charges," one accompanying each of the Noble Truths, namely: 4 CHARGESExistence of dukkha - (we are to fully) UnderstandOrigin of dukkha - () AbandonCessation of dukkha - () RealizePath to cessation of dukkha - () Follow The translator's choice of "understand" in this context seems woefully inadequate, given that even Buddha himself pointed out that what he realized was beyond understanding, in any ordinary sense of the word. But setting aside the semantics, let's consider all four commands as outlining a process of assimilating and acting upon Buddha's teaching. We are to fully understand, or comprehend, the existence of suffering in this world. We are to abandon its main source, or origin, namely our own craving. We are to realize the cessation of suffering, hopefully in this lifetime. And we are to follow the Path in our daily actions, so that everything we do becomes the path. And thus, as Buddha taught in the Lotus Sutra, widely regarded as his last teaching, there is actually no separate Path, if everything is the path. We are on this path whether we know it or not. And, of course, we do not necessarily engage the process in the order implied by the sequencing of the sentence. In fact, we begin at the end, with the Eightfold Path. It, too, is usually laid out in reverse order of its implementation: Right wisdom: view and thought; right conduct: speech, action and livelihood; and right discipline: effort, mindfulness and meditation. Again, we begin at the end, with meditation, which leads to mindfulness and greater effort, which affect our conduct, and so on, leading eventually to right wisdom of understanding and worldview. Or so we hope. But when we consider the difficulty of what Buddha did, and is asking us to do, it seems impossible on the surface — as do the Precepts, when considered as literal and absolute. So we are left with the prospect of figuring out what these directives actually mean, and how they might be accomplished, by contemplating them in meditation, which brings us full circle to where Buddha realized these truths, on the cushion. In Zen meditation, we are encouraged to give up our reliance on the ability of the discriminating mind to analyze and understand, and instead to trust our intuition to come to an insight into reality that is not accessible to reason alone, what Master Dogen referred to as "non-thinking": neither thinking, as such, nor notthinking. So we are to find the sweet spot, the balance between these two aspects of our original mind. In light of this attitude adjustment to the way we ordinarily approach problem-solving, let me suggest another analogy to clarify the long and broad teachings of Buddha's tongue. P's & Q's of ZenKeying off of this common trope, engage with me in an experiment in semantics that may hopefully shed some light on buddha-dharma. Setting aside the "Qs" for now, I propose that we can frame the basics of Buddhism in alliterative form, as a collection of words beginning with P, or more precisely, "Pr," which turns out to be a substantial set of considerations to be assimilated before ("pre-") setting a course of action: • Premises & Principles• Predilections & Proclivities • Prescriptions & Practices• Promises & Predictions Premises & PrinciplesBuddhism, and for that matter any body of teaching, is based on a set of premises, defined as: ... a previous statement or proposition from which another is inferred or follows as a conclusion: if the premise is true, then the conclusion must be true. Another pr word pops up in the definition: proposition, which has a less definitive connotation, being a mere proposal, than a premise, which indicates a more settled basis. Premises, when proven out by experimentation or sheer experience, may become principles, much as hypotheses become theories (and with enough evidence, laws, or precepts) of the profession under consideration, such as science; or, well, law. Predilections & ProclivitiesHowever, Buddhism — dealing as it does with fallible human nature — also takes into account our predilections, proclivities, and predispositions, as well as any pertinent preconceptions we may be harboring. These words, too, have definitions and synonyms that often reflect each other, such as predisposition and predilection, i.e. sharing similar connotations of preference and propensity. Prescriptions & PracticesWhen it comes to taking action based on the premises and principles laid out in Zen's teachings, and in light of the weaknesses of our predilections and proclivities, semantic hair-splitting does not help much, except perhaps to illustrate the subtlety of the task of discerning which prescriptions and practices might prove to be most productive for following the Zen Way under the present predicament in which we find ourselves. The default mode of action prescribed in Zen is meditation, of course, but many of the practices surrounding and supporting it raise issues of protocols in a starkly different social and cultural environment than that in which the ancestors found themselves. This is the key challenge of propagating Zen today, in a context of over-choice on every level of society. Promises & Predictions The promise of Zen, however, remains the same, no matter the situational causes and conditions surrounding our life and practice. Success in penetrating the koan of existence, while not predictable, may be predicated upon the simple formula of sitting still enough, upright enough, for long enough that the effects of zazen begin to manifest. Buddha predicted the future buddhahood of many of his followers, including his cousin Devadatta, who reputedly tried repeatedly to assassinate the great sage. AfterwordThis familiar "Ps & Qs" phrase came to mind while mulling over the design of Buddha's initial teachings, and after reading Ben Connelly's excellent commentary on "Vasubandhu's Three Natures." The first page that comes up from an internet search on Ps and Qs tells us that the phrase can be traced back to the 1779 Oxford English Dictionary. The most plausible origin, of several possible provenances, is that it refers to early typography, where "p" and "q" were likely to be mistaken, one for the other, when setting lead type. This factoid comes from a site hosted by The Guardian that you may want to check out if you are interested in the origin of words and phrases (etymology), semantic enigmas, and the evolution of language in general In our next segment we will continue delving deeper into the design intent of Zen's teachings and their implications for living in times of increasing uncertainty. Other than death and taxes, the beneficial effects of Zen and zazen are one of the few things that are certain in life. But that does not mean that we should take them for granted. We have to put in the work, making "effort without aiming at it as Master Dogen prescribes. Please plan to join our new online and onsite practice opportunities for 2025. My new Thursday evening Advanced Workshop, in particular, is designed to take a deep dive into the more subtle secrets of Zen and the details of zazen.

In the new Thursday Workshop I have initiated for 2025, I am attempting to lay out in great detail what I believe to be the most natural way to meditate: zazen before Zen, so to speak. It may not be your daddy's meditation, but it is that of our ancient forefathers. Meditation, after all, was not the exclusive discovery of the historical Buddha, and his realization could not have been the first in the long presence of humankind on the planet, just the first recorded in history. What he discovered represents a return to something more primordial than Buddhism; Buddha was not a Buddhist, after all. Traditional teachings emphasize the perfecting of the Six Paramitas, which enumerate both personal and social dimensions of the place of Zen philosophy and practice in the cultures of India, China, Korea, Japan, and the far East. They are variously translated as charity, ethics, patience, effort, meditation, and wisdom. But in Zen practice, the perfecting of the paramitas in our daily lives is not merely a matter of remembering and agreeing with them in principle. It is, instead, recommended that we observe them in everything we do, within each dimension of the Eightfold Path; most especially including meditation, the eighth in the usual order, and the first place we begin to make effort. As Master Dogen is quoted as saying, In zazen what precept or ethical principle, is not fulfilled? The main method of Zen cannot be detached from the Eightfold Path, nor can it be left out of the process of perfecting the other five paramitas. Posture ParamitaIn fact, in zazen we begin by taking up another process of perfecting — perfecting the posture. Matsuoka-roshi would often say that you have to work your way through every bone in your body, and suggested that we develop an attitude of continually aiming at the perfect posture, never imagining that we have achieved it. This amounts to a practical application of Dogen's cryptic phrase, "making effort without aiming at it." This is what I refer to as "posture paramita": an exploratory search for the natural posture. Much like the proposition that we are already enlightened but we don't yet know it, this approach suggests that our posture is already perfect, but we keep interfering with it. Much of our training in zazen method is about how to stop doing that. The Natural Way to MeditateOne of the misconceptions I would like to address up-front is that we can do zazen the "right" way — and its corollary, the "wrong" way. While the ancient teachings mention "right meditation" along with all the other "rights" in the Eightfold Path, this translators' choice is not meant to indicate that there is an absolutely right way to meditate, as opposed to wrong ways. The "right" in this construction is more like a verb than an adjective — as in righting a capsized boat, in order to continue sailing. Or righting a wheel that is out of round, so that it rolls smoothly. In Zen, we continually correct as we go, when we detect that we are off-course. The vacillation is built into our conscious mind, continually swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. For example, most practitioners interpret the instructions for zazen as strictly indicating that we are to sit stock still. Don't move. And empty the mind of thoughts. The former command to sit still may comprise a more pedantic obiter dictum in Rinzai praxis than in Soto Zen; the latter notion of the empty mind, a Western misconstruing of Master Dogen's "non-thinking." But most Americans, when first approaching Zen meditation, probably harbor these two ideas as a preconception. To which I say "good luck" with either of these notions, especially in combination. Unless you give yourself permission to move, you will never discover why it is that we sit still. Unless you give yourself permission to think, you may never realize what Dogen meant by "non-thinking." This was Master Dogen's expression of the natural state of attention in zazen. It is neither thinking, nor not thinking, which are opposite sides of the same coin. We sit without relying on thinking, our default go-to in most other areas of endeavor. Feeling GravityTake an example from early childhood. Gravity is said to be the "constant teacher." As a toddler just beginning to transition from crawling to walking, we stand up, we fall down. We stand up again, we fall down again. This natural process may be the origin of the old saying that Dogen adapted, "Fall down seven times, get up eight." I always wonder why he didn't say "get up seven." We don't learn to stand and walk by thinking it through. At that age it is not likely that there is much thinking going on at all, in the ordinary sense of the word. We might better regard it as a process of adaptation. We are learning to navigate and negotiate the causes and conditions of our world, in which gravity is a major player, by trial and error. Which involves intuition and observation rather than intellectual analysis. Similarly, the very act of sitting and facing a blank wall for extended periods of time is a counter-intuitive and counter-cultural act. That is, its simplicity sets aside the usual resort to thinking and analysis, bringing forth the intuitive, instinctual side of awareness. Taken for GrantedOnce we can successfully balance, standing and walking in the field of gravity, it becomes less and less of a concern, and eventually goes subliminal. We are less and less aware of its influence. Until we take up athletics, dancing, or some other activity that challenges our security in the face of gravitational attraction, such as mountain climbing or walking tightropes. Maybe bungie-jumping. As Master Dogen was wont to say, after laying out an analogy to help us grasp the principles of Zen, "All things are like this." That is, we adapt to all sensations over time, becoming less acutely aware of all the multiple stimuli that are acting upon us at any given time. In doing so physically and sensorially, we take more and more of our world for granted, until some natural or manmade disaster comes along as a wakeup call. Stepping BackAnother natural way to de-condition ourselves and recover our awareness of the fundamentals of our existence — like gravity — is to practice zazen. Finding and engaging the most natural posture — upright seated meditation — combined with the most natural breathing pattern, we afford ourselves the best opportunity for discovering, or recovering, our most natural, original mind. As our attention withdraws from our usual ruminations over the ongoing conditions of our lives that we find unsatisfactory (dukkha) — in what Master Dogen referred to as the "backward step" — we naturally return to a more primordial state of awareness, sometimes referred to as "bare awareness," becoming aware of, or remembering, what it is to exist as a sentient being. This "returning to" is the root meaning of "refuge" — refugo, refugare from the Latin — rather than escaping or hiding out, we are returning to familiar territory, our true home. I would say, remembering what it means to be a "fully conscious human being," but Zen's teachings caution us to accept that we are not necessarily fully conscious — in fact that we are largely asleep. The Zen Buddhist proposition regarding consciousness is relatively simple in concept, but difficult in execution, as we say of certain problems and processes in design thinking. That is, we were all asleep last night, and we all woke up this morning, and we all know the difference between the two. Although lucid dreaming sometimes calls the difference into question. One key tenet of Buddhism, that I do not believe is characteristic of any other religious or spiritual practice, is that — as wide awake as we may seem to be at the moment — we are still asleep, to a certain degree. And that we can wake up — fully — as Buddha did. The honorific means, literally, the "fully awakened one." And that we will know the difference. This suggests that we can do this on our own recognizance. We don't need no stinking teachers, as the threefold Lotus Sutra reminds us. Zen is pointing at something natural, primordial, that comes with the territory of being a human being. We look to teachings for guidance, but we cannot depend upon them, nor upon our teachers, for our own insight. In this matter, Zen is truly the ultimate in do-it-yourself, which helps to explain its appeal to the Western mindset of independent thinking, the cult of the individual. As we turn our attention away from the pressing concerns of the social sphere, shining the bright light of Zen meditation upon the personal sphere, the natural process of sensory adaptation will set in. By stressing stillness and sameness over motion and change, we begin to experience motion in the stillness, on deeper and more subtle levels. As Matsuoka-roshi would often say, "Zen goes deeper." At bottom, we embrace the reality that these apparent differences are really not separate, that nothing has really changed from the beginning. It is what it is, what it has always been, and what it will always be: everchanging. Please plan to join our new online and onsite practice opportunities for 2025. My new Thursday evening Advanced Workshop, in particular, is designed to take a deep dive into the more subtle secrets of zazen and Zen.

Dr. Adam Francisco, author, “One Word, Many Writings” One Word, Many Writings The post The Bible and Other Religious Writings: The Analects of Confucius, the Tao te Ching, and the Lotus Sutra – Dr. Adam Francisco, 1/15/25 (0153) first appeared on Issues, Etc..

Ratnaghosha looks at the parable of the Jewel in the Garment from the White Lotus Sutra and explores jewel symbolism elsewhere in the Lotus Sutra and in Buddhism more broadly. This talk was given at Padmaloka Retreat Centre, 2024. *** Subscribe to our Free Buddhist Audio podcast:  On Apple Podcasts | On Spotify | On Google Podcasts A full, curated, quality Dharma talk, every week. 3,000,000 downloads and counting!Subscribe to our Dharmabytes podcast:  On Apple Podcasts | On Spotify | On Google Podcasts Bite-sized inspiration three times every week. Subscribe using these RSS feeds or search for Free Buddhist Audio or Dharmabytes in your favorite podcast service! Help us keep FBA Podcasts free for everyone: donate now! Follow Free Buddhist Audio: YouTube  |  Instagram  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Soundcloud  

In this Teisho, given on November 24th, 2024, Rinzan Osho examines The Hidden Lamp: Satsujo Sits on the Lotus Sutra. When we free our mind, we see that we are intimate with all things . 

A father, now wealthy, spots his long-lost son in the streets. He gradually befriends him until he has the self-confidence to take on his inheritance. Akashadevi introduces the parable from the Lotus Sutra which yields fascinating lessons in accepting the riches of our deepest nature. A talk for the West London Buddhist Centre, 2018. *** Subscribe to our Free Buddhist Audio podcast:  On Apple Podcasts | On Spotify | On Google Podcasts A full, curated, quality Dharma talk, every week. 3,000,000 downloads and counting!Subscribe to our Dharmabytes podcast:  On Apple Podcasts | On Spotify | On Google Podcasts Bite-sized inspiration three times every week. Subscribe using these RSS feeds or search for Free Buddhist Audio or Dharmabytes in your favorite podcast service! Help us keep FBA Podcasts free for everyone: donate now! Follow Free Buddhist Audio: YouTube  |  Instagram  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Soundcloud  

With so much to learn about Buddhist history, it can be hard to know where to start! This month, we're doing a short series covering Buddhist history. Today's episode is about how the Lotus Sutra and Nam-myoho-renge-kyo are practiced today.Online Articles:About Our CommunityLiving The Lotus SutraEngaged BuddhismBooks:Waking The BuddhaThe Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra SeriesReach out to us at connect@buddhability.org to get connected with a Buddhability community near you.

The DharmaByte™ version of this segment will post in the STO newsletter the first week of November. This UnMind podcast will drop on Wednesday after election day, which is November 5th. The next segment of Election Year Zen will be posted on December 4th, barring unforeseen circumstances such as an outright armed revolution — or “the new civil war” as it has been billed in some quarters — an implied threat depending upon the outcome of the election. In Zen, of course, all future circumstances are unforeseen by definition. Unless you believe in prophecy. In this segment I will encourage you to vote, which I understand may not be necessary. Indeed, I have already voted. I have no desire to influence how you vote in terms of partisan politics, or in favor of which candidate or party conforms more closely to my own view. You should “vote your conscience,” in the current term of art. Or vote for the future — which seems contradictory to Zen's “being in the moment.” Remember, in Zen we do not deny the possibility of the reality of karmic consequences occurring over the “Three Times” of Buddhism — past, future, and present. Low voter turnout is a concern of the professionals in this election and has always troubled me somewhat. I mean, how important is all this political posturing, when a large segment of the populace does not even exercise their right to vote? I do not mean to suggest that 100% turnout would somehow cure the many ills that befall our system of elected government. For one thing the third or more eligible voters who fail to turn out are not likely to be informed on issues, or qualifications of candidates on the ballots, let alone cognizant of the long-term effects of their vote. I feel confident, however, that readers of my DharmaByte™ column and followers of my podcast share a significant enough degree of concern, and have a sufficient grasp of the stakes in the outcome, to make intelligent and caring choices. Otherwise, you probably would not be listening to this. As I mentioned in the last Election Year Zen segment, I believe the most important measure of merit for a party or candidate to take office is the degree of their conformance to the principles of buddha-dharma, as I understand them. Quoting myself: I leave it to you to decide whether or not, and to what degree, your candidate for the highest office in the land, the most powerful secular position on Earth, are in harmony with these compassionate aspirations. But remember that the teachings of Buddhism were never meant to be held up to criticize others, but to reflect back upon yourself and your own behavior. The “mirror of Zen reflects all” — the good, the bad, and the ugly — without discrimination. You and your behavior are also reflected in that Precious Mirror. President Jimmy Carter made news recently, first by surviving to his 100th birthday, then by declaring that he wanted to live long enough to vote, one supposes for the opportunity to elect a non-white non-male president for the first time in history. I met President Carter during his successful run for the presidency, when he visited the office of the consumer research company that I joined in moving to Georgia in 1970. What do you suppose is so important in his mind about this election, that he expressed his intent to vote for or against one of the candidates? As the former president most famous for his contributions to humanity after his term in office, what do you make of this kind of commitment to the democratic process? I think we can assume that he harbors a belief in the long-term viability of the benefits of the democratic republic for the future of the human race, on a larger timeline than the next four-year election cycle. Let us turn back to the acronym: V-O-T-E, with which I titled the opening haiku poem. One interpretation that came to me is: “Vote Once for Time Eternal.” At my age, it becomes obvious that however I vote, it will probably have little effect upon my personal sphere, with what little future time I have left. But it raises a question. What are we voting for, exactly? The current trope is, “for the children.” Commentators and candidates take up the theme, appealing to the sentiment or question of what kind of country we will leave for the next generations of children and grandchildren. I suggest that we expand our time horizon to a relatively infinite scale. In the Lifespan Chapter of the Lotus Sutra, on which I gave a dharma talk recently, the point is that Buddha's physical death, or Parinirvana, is only apparent. The truth is that Buddha is still here, forever, but cannot be seen by ordinary vision. Thus, what Buddha was, or is, has only a circumstantial and temporary connection to the person known as Siddhartha Gautama, the conditioned self of incarnation. Similarly, can we look at the act of voting in this election in a larger context? Not in the light of its connection to the short-term effects it may or may not have on the social sphere in the immediate aftermath, but more in line with the long-term vision expounded by Buddha, or at least attributed to him by his successors? That is, from the perspective of the natural and universal spheres, in which the personal and social are nested? From the “Loving Kindness” or “Metta” sutra, we find the following passage: Let no one deceive another nor despise any being in any stateLet none by anger or hatred wish harm to another Can there be any clearer directive than this as to how to conduct ourselves in the social sphere? Another pair of admonitions comes from the second Five Precepts we receive in the Soto Zen Discipleship ceremony: See only your own faults — Do not discuss the faults of othersKnow self and other as one — Do not praise yourself at others' expense Can we see the current campaign in these terms? Which of the protagonists — if either — is adhering most closely to these guidelines? Which is most blatantly violating them? If we interpret all political dialog as equally duplicitous, equally guilty of deceptive and despising attitudes and behavior, equally wishing harm to others, discussing their faults, and praising themselves at the expense of others, then we have no basis on which to make a choice. But abstaining from voting is, in itself, making a choice. We are all complicit in, if not responsible for, the result. This is not to put all our eggs in the one basket of the social sphere, and the limited sub-sphere of political opinion. We should not be distracted from the natural sphere, in which we are witnessing the long-term consequences of self-centered actions of the species for survival and comfort of an ever-expanding mass of humanity, particularly in the form of climate change. Nor from the universal sphere, where we face potential extinction in the context of the geologic time scale, wherein even the history of the human race appears as a blip on the screen. Why vote at all, when the forces shaping reality have so little regard for our place in it? Mother Nature is no respecter of persons, let alone political parties. Returning to the personal, we can detach, on the level of the absolute, from any implications of the present political climate, while engaging in action — voting, for example — on the level of the relative, understanding that our deeper aspirations may not work out in this lifetime. I think we can presume that Buddha's teachings were not meant solely to affect his followers at the time, but to set the bar for future generations as well. Even though the members of the original Order did not record them in written form for posterity, they went to great lengths to codify and chant them, enabling their memorization and preservation from one generation to the next over a period of four centuries or so. What we are doing in Zen today is, I believe, carrying on this tradition, in the modern milieu and vernacular. We are taking the long-term view. A careful reading of the founding documents of the American experiment, such as the Federalist Papers, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and its amendments, the Bill of Rights, et cetera, reveals a similar aspiration. Stated principles of freedom — the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness — do not represent temporary expedients, but hopeful wishes for the future generations of people operating on their own free will. Notwithstanding the contemporaneous exclusion of slaves and women from the privileges enjoyed by white men of means, owners of private property. Like much of our retrospective reading of the history of Zen, we have to resist our penchant for interpreting cultures of a couple of centuries or millennia ago as if they were occurring in the light of modern social science. So vote. But I suggest doing so in the spirit of buddha-dharma. Realizing and embracing the reality that you may not see any beneficial effect on your personal life, at least not anytime soon. We take this approach to meditation, which is, after all, the inmost personal experience possible. We set aside expectations as to the positive effects it may bring about, while continuing to hold an aspiration to realization. We approach it with the famous “don't-know-mind” of Zen, assuming that whatever comes of it will be the natural consequence of the manifestation of our Original Mind. We sit not because we have to, but because we get to. We vote, not because we have to, but because we get to. Master Dogen said somewhere that at last, we are left with ambiguity. Enjoy the non-knowing.

With so much to learn about Buddhist history, it can be hard to know where to start! This month, we're doing a short series covering Buddhist history. Today's episode covers the early history of SGI Nichiren Buddhism.Online Articles:The Humanism of The Lotus SutraBuddhist LineageBooks:The Lotus Sutra and Its Opening and Closing SutrasThe Living BuddhaThe Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra SeriesThe Heart of The Lotus SutraReach out to us at connect@buddhability.org to get connected with a Buddhability community near you.

Buddhability Shorts is a series where we break down a Buddhist concept or common life challenge we've touched on in an interview. Today, we're talking about the Buddhist perspective on wisdom and what it means to use knowledge with wisdom. To ask a question about the basics of Buddhism, you can email us at connect@buddhability.org References:My Dear Friends in America, fourth edition, pp. 369-71.The Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra, vol. 2, p. 33.

Buddhability Shorts is a series where we break down a Buddhist concept or common life challenge we've touched on in an interview. Today, we're talking about how chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo can help us maximize every moment and use our time wisely. To ask a question about the basics of Buddhism, you can email us at connect@buddhability.org Episodes Mentioned:How To Do It All, with Dr. Gitima SharmaWhy I Appreciate My College Rejections References:The Victorious Teen, p. 28.“On Prolonging One's Life Span,” The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 955.Unlocking the Mysteries of Birth and Death, p. 109.Jan. 1, 2016, World Tribune, p. 8.The Heart of the Lotus Sutra, p. 26.The New Human Revolution, vol. 4, revised edition, pp. 149–50.The Record of the Orally Transmitted Teachings, p. 214.My Dear Friends in America, fourth edition, p. 354.

This final episode of the unearthed Lotus Sutra podcast episodes, Michael discusses how the deepest practice a bodhisattva can ever do is to listen deeply and how the deepest thing we can ever experience is having a change of heart. This talk was recorded at Centre of Gravity's last evening at the Bellwoods location, July 12, 2011. The entire 2011 Lotus Sutra collection can be found on a nearly complete playlist here: soundcloud.com/michaelstoneteaching/sets/lotus-sutra The Awake in the World podcast is brought to you by the generosity of our amazing Patreon supporters, making it possible for us to keep Michael's archive of teachings available to the public. To become a patron, visit: patreon.com/michaelstone.

Whether we like it or not, we don't exist in isolation. The interconnection of life means that when we change, our environment changes as well.  Today's guest, Heidi Hayashi, of Stratford, Conn., shares how finding the courage to live true to herself improved and deepened her family relationships. References:The Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace, part 2, revised edition p. 270Buddhism Day by Day: Wisdom for Modern Life, p. 315The Wisdom of the Lotus Sutra, vol. 4, p. 20Unlocking the Mysteries of Birth & DeathThe Wisdom for Creating Happiness and Peace, part 1, revised edition