A teaching from Engaku-ji

Last October I was in Japan with Ikumi, and readers from that time will remember my long blog posts listing all the temples we visited and all the incredible beauty we encountered. Tidying up a few days ago, I came across a leaflet I'd picked up from one of those temples and which I'd slipped into a book for safe-keeping.

The leaflet is from Engaku-ji, which I remember being a two minute walk from Kita Kamakura station, and the first temple of that particular day. I also recall that despite a crowd of schoolkids all buying amulets from him at the same time, the man at the entrance produced for me some incredibly dramatic calligraphy.

There was a high garden cut into the cliff, and we admired the flowers, the views, and the same eagle we'd seen the day before. A metal Buddha was set against the rock face with a cloak containing dozens of smaller Buddhas in the folds, and all of the few people who passed by stopped to take photos and comment on its beauty.

Another interesting thing was the number of thatched buildings, including the mausoleum, a wonderful, almost diamond-shaped structure housing the thirteenth century founder and a statue of Kannon. We sat on benches there and drank thick frothy green tea, and this was where, I think, I picked up the leaflet.

One side contains, in English and Japanese, a short history of the mausoleum, and on the other side there is a teaching entitled Spoon. I don't know if it's familiar now from having heard it before somewhere, or from simply having read this leaflet a few times. But it's a wonderful text and one that certainly speaks to me.

Doug, in the comments section of his blog on Japan, has recently written about maintaining a productive ratio between study and practice; it's easy and fascinating to study Dharma, but without practice very little gets absorbed. So I'm reading less and reading slower, writing less and sitting more, and going for the taste.

--- Spoon ---

Although the spoon is soaked in soup many times a day, it cannot understand the taste of the soup. But, unlike the spoon, just one drop of soup on your tongue can give you a complete idea of what it tastes like.

What this means is that there is no benefit in meeting the most honorable men or reading the most excellent books if you are as insensitive as a spoon. It is completely worthless reading many books or receiving a high education if you are too insensitive to learn from what you've experienced.

One who tries to get a sense of peace by giving pain to others will never be able to cut himself off from a chain of grudges against him. We should not be like that. So, wishing for this year to be better than last year, let's uphold a wish to do something good every day, no matter how small it is.

--- ---

Text: This is more or less the exact text of the leaflet, I've just cleared up a few errors in the English. There is no indication of it being copyright material.

Photo: I didn't have a camera during my visit to Japan, so this was taken more recently here in Thailand. Perhaps one day I'll return to Engaku-ji and come back to this post with a new photo.

Postscript: After our tea, we walked down the slope out of the temple past walls made of massive stone blocks covered in moss, ferns, and tree roots. Ikumi and I ran our hands over them, and that precise moment, leaning into the soft moss, the damp against our fingertips and palms, was one of pure joy.