Bankei takes all comers

Handling delinquents

When the Master was in retreat at the Jizoji, Sekimon Osho of the Ryomonji sent [the monk] Tenkyu3 to call on him and inquire after his health.4 When he met the Master at the temple gate, Tenkyu delivered a message from Sekimon, saying: "At the Ryomonji are a number of novices who are remiss in their duties and rude in their behavior, upsetting the decorum of the temple. It was thought that if they were to go someplace else—the Nyohoji, perhaps, or the Korinji—they might change their ways, and I wished to ask your Reverence's opinion." When Tenkyu had spoken, the Master summoned Shuin, Sokaku and myself,5 and, repeating for us the gist of the message Sekimon had sent with Tenkyu, said: "What's known as a Zen temple is established precisely to bring together wicked fellows such as these, winning them over through personal contact and making them into good men. But, without any such attitude, completely lacking in compassion, you want to dispose of wrongdoers elsewhere, to have them go and create disturbance someplace else! Is a person like that fit to be abbot of a Zen temple? When one whose heart is without generosity or compassion becomes abbot of [my] temple, it is the beginning of the end for my teaching!" After this severe upbraiding, everyone, whether it was the abbot, the temple officers or the Master's personal attendants, was afraid to complain to the Master about the behavior of the monks.

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Winddrakes personal contact: Support is good. None of us would be here without intense and lengthy support and compassion at some point. If we look frankly and honestly, all of us are deeply dependent on each other. I do not know why zen students including myself lean towards firery self indignation and heroics. I am not saying there isn't a place for this, sureley there is but less we forget the countless effort, hours, energy, sacrifice it took to sit here and smell our own farts.

Winddrake rushes out of the village armor and sword in hand off the battle an unknown god- Sword made by a family blacksmith, in a building recycled from an old church wood that fell under a storm, 13 people dies that day. They are buried in the cemetery. The town special needs kid makes 5 bucks a day keeping rats from the graves, the rats feed the cats who keep the old widows company who fill the churces every sunday.

As I rush out the gate I spot a child who emulates my every move. Stick in hand, pillows for armor. I used to think this was harmless play, but he is quite literally training for war.

I yell and scream that the ghost I am chasing are not real, then what the fuck am I supposed to do! I turn the sword towards myself, angry at my foolishness. AT this point the Abbot invites me in for tea. To think I came to this conclusion is to slander natural law, or truth. I was graced to see it before I thrust the blade the same way the ladies bless the churches and the boy blesses the graves. Life is precious, please be kind to yourself.

Submitted November 17, 2018 at 10:28PM by windDrakeHex https://ift.tt/2QLh5Nk