Monthly Words

To welcome the New Year, I would like to share the words of Manshi Kiyosawa（清沢満之 1863-1903）, a prominent philosopher and Buddhist reformer of the Meiji era who deeply influenced great writers like Natsume Soseki.

He once wrote:

"For us to live in this world, we must have a single, perfect footing (立脚地 Rikkyakuchi)."

"Footing" (Rikkyakuchi) refers to a place where you truly belong, or a spiritual foundation you can lean on. Do you have a place where you can confidently say, "This is where I stand"? And is that place truly secure forever?

You might think this is a heavy question for the start of the year. However, there is no question more profound. For some, it may be family; for others, their workplace, friends, or community.

But these things change against our will. The more we depend on them, the more they may transform into something "inconvenient" or painful for us. Perhaps there is no such thing as a "permanently secure" place in this world. As the Buddha taught: "諸行無常 Shogyo Mujo"(the Buddhist principle that all things are impermanent — everything is in a state of flux).

Yet, this is not about nihilism. Our footing feels unstable precisely because we cling only to things in this world—things that are destined to change.

In a famous essay, the author Naoya Shiga( 志賀直哉 1883-1971) described himself as "a single drop of water in the Nile." He realized that throughout history, there has never been another "drop" like him, nor will there ever be again. Yet, he accepted that he was still just one drop in a vast, eternal river. He said, "And that is perfectly fine." He was able to say this because he had found his true "footing."

In this new year, let us reflect: On what foundation do we stand in this once-in-a-lifetime journey?

Do we truly feel "I have enough" and gently lay down our chopsticks in gratitude at our daily dining tables?

This month, we introduce a haiku by Santoka Taneda（"種田山頭火" 1882-1940）, the "wandering poet" who walked through the Taisho and Showa eras with only a woven monk's hat and straw sandals.

Contrary to the idealized image of a monk seeking enlightenment, Santoka’s life was marked by loss and despair. Born into a wealthy family, he eventually embarked on a lonely journey of wandering, almost as if "running away from himself." By the time he found a place to rest in his final years, his health was failing, and the shadow of death was quietly approaching.

This month’s phrase represents the spiritual state he reached toward the end of his life. Note that he used the word itadaite (receiving with gratitude) instead of just "eating," and added tarite (feeling sufficient/enough).

In those days, his meals were humble—perhaps just rice given by friends or collected through alms-seeking. Early in his travels, he felt miserable about this lifestyle. However, in his later years, he began to see it as "receiving life itself," leading to a profound sense of gratitude.

Yet, Santoka was not a perfect saint. He struggled to let go of his attachments to alcohol and tobacco even in extreme poverty, and he constantly blamed himself for his weaknesses. Many of his poems, such as "Here I am, this good-for-nothing me, walking on," reflect this deep solitude and the contradictions he carried.

When he says "having enough" in this poem, it might have been a meal as simple as a bowl of soup and a side of vegetables, or even just rice porridge. Still, he accepted it, thinking, "This is sufficient for me right now," and quietly laid down his chopsticks. In this "aloneness," we can feel a sense of true fulfillment, not just loneliness.

Today, while we talk about rising prices, recent studies show a surprising reality regarding food loss. Reports indicate that food waste from households slightly exceeds that from businesses, and the amount of waste from elderly households is nearly three times that of younger households (Shigetomi et al., Nature Communications, Oct 2024).

Are we truly able to say "I have received" and "it is enough," and gently lay down our chopsticks?

Let us pause for a moment and listen to the quiet resonance of Santoka’s words.

This quote is from the Rennyo Shonin Goichidaiki Kikigaki ( 蓮如上人御一代記聞書 - The Record of the Words of Rennyo Shonin), the 8th head priest of the Hongwanji tradition. Freely translated, it means: "When people get carried away, they soar endlessly with arrogance, losing sight of where they should ground themselves."

Ryotaro Shiba ( 司馬遼太郎 1923-1996 ), a famous Japanese historical novelist, shares a striking anecdote titled "Bad Boys and Bombu（悪童たちと凡夫）" in one of his essays. Raised in a family deeply devoted to Jodo Shinshu (Shin Buddhism), Shiba recalled arguing with his older sister in elementary school over who was greater: Honen Shonin or Shinran Shonin (the founders of Jodo Shu and Jodo Shinshu, respectively).

One day, during a middle school class, a teacher asked his students the meaning of the word bombu ( 凡夫 ) . Following the textbook, Shiba answered, "A worthless person." The teacher replied, "Yes, that’s right." But then he asked, "By the way, who exactly is a bombu?"

Shiba was stumped. He thought, "Is there a 'bombu' among us? Who could it be?" He wondered if it was "K," a classmate who had become a delinquent. Feeling awkward about labeling someone else "worthless," he couldn't answer.

However, the teacher revealed a surprising answer: "'Bombu' means us."

"Even you, sir?"

"Yes, I am a 'bombu' too."

The teacher continued, "Now, among all the figures in Japanese history, who were the first to realize that they themselves were 'bombu'? Those individuals made the greatest discovery in the history of Japan."

"They were Honen Shonin and Shinran Shonin."

It was a difficult concept for middle schoolers, and the teacher knew it. He concluded, "When you grow up, remember what we talked about today and think it over again. ... If you become an adult and still don't understand it, you will be unhappy for the rest of your life."

A bombu ( 凡夫 )  is not someone else. It is none other than "I"—the one who believes I am always right, forgets my limitations, and continues to rise with arrogance. Realizing oneself as a bombu is not an act of self-denial; rather, it is accepting the fundamental arrogance inherent in human nature.

There is a certain beauty in human "effort." However, when that effort turns into complete self-reliance, we lose sight of our limits. We believe we are still rising, completely unaware that we are actually falling—this, too, is human nature.

If we forget that we are bombu and lose sight of "Namu Amida Butsu" ( 南無阿弥陀仏 - the calling voice from the Great Compassion that transcends our ego), we truly end up living a "worthless life."　　　　　　　　

These words are found in the letter titled "Juzu" (珠数 - Buddhist Prayer Beads), the fifth letter in the second fascicle of the "Ofumi" (御文 or "Gobunsho" 御文章 - Letters), written by Rennyo Shonin(蓮如上人 1415-1499), the 8th Head Priest of the Hongwanji tradition.

"Truly, human life is such that the exhaled breath cannot guarantee the next inhaled breath" — this means that we live our lives without any certainty that the breath we just breathed out will be followed by another breath in.

The season of cherry blossoms has arrived once again this year. Just around the time the buds began to appear, I came across this letter during the Jinjo (晨朝 - morning service), and this particular passage suddenly resonated deeply within my heart.

The reason cherry blossoms captivate people's hearts so profoundly is perhaps not only because of their beautiful colors or the timing of their bloom, but also due to their "ephemerality" (儚さ hakanasa in Japanese). They bloom for only a brief moment, and full bloom does not last long. It is often said that this very shortness awakens the Japanese sense of wabi-sabi(侘び寂び)—an aesthetic appreciation for the beauty of impermanence and simplicity.

When we think about it this way, a human lifespan might be quite similar. Even if we feel we have lived a long time, looking back, we often feel that it went by "in the blink of an eye." You don't necessarily have to be at the end of your life to feel this way; if you look back on the path you have taken, you may feel that you have come a long way, yet it also feels like it passed in a mere instant.

Before stating these words, Rennyo Shonin first demonstrates an attitude of valuing propriety and form, stating, "It is inappropriate to visit the temple without carrying your juzu (珠数 - prayer beads)." He writes with a tone of slight indignation, saying, "It is as if you are trying to grasp the Buddha with your bare hands. Shinran Shonin never told us to throw away our prayer beads when worshipping the Buddha." However, he then goes on to explain, "What is truly essential for birth in Amida Buddha's Pure Land is not the juzu itself, but the entrusting heart in the Other Power (他力の信心 Tariki no Shinjin - trusting in the power of Amida's Vow)." This unexpected development in his teaching is exactly why I am so drawn to this letter.

In all things, it is always better to have the proper form. However, what is truly important is perhaps not the form itself, but whether we are seeking the true essence of life.

We, too, are distracted day by day by appearances and how things look. Yet, we live in a state where we are not even guaranteed the next breath. That is why I want to cherish this very moment—the irreplaceable time I am spending, or have spent, with my loved ones right now.

It is said that the etymology of the Japanese word "hakanai" (儚い- ephemeral/fleeting) is "hakararenai" (計れない - immeasurable).

Perhaps in this very concept, there is a connection that allows us to touch the world of Amida Buddha, whose name means "immeasurable" (amita in ancient Sanskrit).* As I encountered this passage again during the cherry blossom season, I took the time to deeply reflect upon its meaning once more.

*Note: The name Amida is derived from the ancient Sanskrit word "amita," meaning "unmeasured" or "boundless." Interestingly, the root "mita" (to measure) became "metron" in Greek, which eventually evolved into the word "meter," our unit of measurement.)