Omori Sogen

by Hosokowa Dogen

  In Toju’s mind, the two form a single ideal (ittoku) and cannot be separated; to do so is wrong in itself. Bun or culture without Bu or strength is no true culture; Bu without Bun is no true Bu. Toju writes:

  To govern the nation or country well and to maintain the five fundamental Confucian relationships correctly is Bun.4 There are some who do not honor the ordinances of Heaven. They are atrocious and have no respect for anything. When they obstruct the Way of Tao, they must be brought to justice and punished. By launching a military campaign against them, those governing re-establish peace for the whole nation. This is called Bu, and in this way Bu forms the basis for Bun.

  If we use this interpretation, Budo has a wide and profound meaning. In ancient times, men categorized the phenomenal aspects of human life and of all things into two types: seishin teki (spiritual and mental), aspects that cannot be seen with the eyes, and the gutaiteki (concrete, tangible), the reality which can be seen with the eyes. The former, being passive or hidden, corresponds to Bun and the latter, being active or clear, corresponds to Bu. But because passivity and activity are integral parts of the whole, Bun and Bu form one virtue as pointed out by Toju. Hence the Martial Ways that the ancients developed had this same integrated quality.

  Hirata Atsutane has written, “The people of our country are innately courageous, righteous and open. These are the qualities of Japan’s Yamato spirit, a spirit that seeks great harmony.” But because the principles of Budo are courage, virtue and straight-forwardness, it is more appropriate to refer to Budo as Dotoku. Do-toku is the Japanese reading of tao-teh, the first two characters of the Taoist classic Tao The Ching, the classic called The Way and its Power. Tao-teh means that the Way is founded on the martial element.

  Often today, the word Budo is used mainly in a narrow sense to indicate a specific martial art or technique. For example, Aiki Budo, Judo, and Kendo are looked upon as the representative models of Budo. But the reason that the old names of Kenjutsu and Jujutsu were changed to Kendo and Judo stems from recognition of their qualities as a Way for Man, with profound mental and spiritual significance that goes beyond their methods of combat. For example, it was Kano Jigoro (the founder of Judo) who discarded the name of Jujutsu for Judo. He saw Judo as the Way of maximum efficiency in the use of mental as well as physical energy, and it was to lead to the welfare and benefit of all.

  In reality, however, the Way is becoming secondary to technique in the martial arts and they are gradually being drawn into the field of sports. The late Yamada Ittokusai in his work Nippon Kendo-shi (History of Japanese Kendo) marks 21 September 1894 as the end of the era when primary importance was given to the Way. This was the date of death for his Kendo teacher, Sakakibara Kenkichi. Ittokusai writes, “After the death of the old master, the reality of the Way will not live up to its name. Many people will not realize this and will simply devote themselves to technical principles. Kendo will appear to be popular, but the Way will decline to a very low level.” One can sympathize with his feelings of loss.

  In the present age, the martial Ways have lost their significance as actual fighting arts. Consequently, it is quite natural that these Ways have been adapted, through necessity, into sports like marathon running, baseball, and swimming. It is essential, however, that the spiritual essence (seishin) inherent in the Ways should not be lost.

  A martial Way, when practised for a purpose of developing techniques or winning, has no value or aim of its own. Its only purpose is as a device for attaining something “outside” itself such as physical strength, courage or enthusiasm. In other words, if one can call an activity with such purposes a martial Way, then the Way will become of secondary significance. Fundamentally the martial Ways are not a means to attain secondary aims; they are a Way for Man. This in itself is of value as a worthy first principle. If this were not the case, then the Ways would not be worthy of discussion as a comparison to Zen. It is from this position that I would like to look at the martial Ways.

  The Multi–faceted Structure of Human Existence

  I have written a book entitled Ken to Zen (Zen and Swordsmanship). Simply put, Kendo (the Way of swordsmanship) is a method of killing people. Zen is a Way by which man can get rid of his delusions; by becoming enlightened, he may live according to his true self-nature.

  Although it is an easy thing to talk about “Zen and Swords-manship in oneness,” what type of relationship is possible between an art for killing people and a Way for man to live? What must one do to bring these two things into unity? The matter cannot be solved by intellect alone, nor can the question be answered merely by words. We could say that this apparently absolute contradiction must be resolved naturally out of one’s self, but to actually experience this oneness is not an easy thing. However, no matter how perplexing this problem is, man basically feels a need, or should we say is required, to resolve this apparent paradox.

  We really don’t know whether tens of thousands of years or millions of years have passed since man first appeared on this planet. But we can say that we have progressed impressively in many ways: ethically and morally, in the development of the Ways, in art, culture and religion, not to mention science and technology. And yet, why is it that, despite a desperate longing for peace, there has not been an interval between wars and conflicts? While possessing nuclear arms that can destroy the world and eradicate humanity in an instant, people go around crying, “Peace! Peace!” What is the hunger these people are expressing?

  The Hagakure states, “Bushido (the Way of the samurai) consists of dying.” The meaning here is to pass through (to transcend) death and killing to awaken to the “Great Life.” This is the most important issue of human existence and it was this experience that the people of old designated as the purpose of the Martial Ways.

  Although this experience does not go beyond the budoka (the person who studies the martial ways) himself, its significance in the history of Japanese culture must never be undervalued. These individual experiences have occurred repeatedly through the ages and it is their accumulated effect that enabled the martial arts in Japan to develop into a Way for man.

  Baseball, the marathon, and swimming may be said to have their origins in the martial arts. The custom of keeping something of the martial arts alive in the form of sport has been extremely common from ancient to modern times in both the East and West. However, in no other country can we find a full development comparable to the Japanese martial Ways where the way of killing evolved into a Way for man. Unfortunately, the cultural value of this unique evolution has not been recognised and used to create a turning point in world history.

  Whether man evolved from an amoeba or his only difference from an ape is the possession of just three more hairs, I really don’t know. It is clear, though, that we are certainly not a single-celled organism. Still, we have not become completely independent of the laws of evolution. Because we are part of the evolutionary process, we still have plant-like cells and qualities of wild animals. Layers of physical, biological, and human qualities in a unified structure; this is what we can call Man.

  Because of this stratification to his life, man is certainly subject to physical laws, like the laws that govern the world of matter, and biological laws, like those that govern the world of living things. At the same time, there are also the qualities of human character that only man possesses.

  But even a man of noble and god-like character cannot live a single day without depriving other forms of life of their life. This is the sad reality of human beings. Even the most honest and compassionate man must snatch water from the earth without paying for it, must breathe the air from the sky without authorization, and must steal energy from the sun. Without these acts, he could not sustain his existence even for an instant. This is the tragic fate of man. Because of this dilemna, everyone bears the original sin of dualism.

  Consequently, even if a man really loves peace, he must kill the cow, kill the pig, kill the chicken, kill the fish, and kill the vegetables in ord
er to strive toward this noble aim. To put it paradoxically, this man himself is part of the carnage caused by the survival of the fittest. Therefore, one can say that because there is no peace, he desires peace. Man’s existence is subject to this dialectic structure. There can be no human life that does not participate in killing and death. The martial Ways must incorporate this somber fact.

  No matter how strong he is, a man thrown into this world will find conflict as long as he possesses animal instincts. His world is the same as that of a tiger or wolf because armed might is no different from the claws and fangs of wild animals. In such a state, the over-riding principle is the instinct of self-preservation. There is no better name for this instinct than that given to it by tradition — chikusho heiho (chikusho — beastly, animal, brute; and heiho — strategy, fighting). As human beings, we can never allow Budo to merit such a name.

  The World of Play

  There are many appraisals of the swordsmanship and character of Miyamoto Musashi. The late Yamada Ittokusai Sensei was quite severe in his criticism:

  If he really wanted to test his ability, the swordsmen Shoda and Kimura, both great men of the Yagyu school, were in Edo at that time. There was also Kamiya Denshin of the Shinkage school and Ono Jirozaemon of the Itto school.

  It is noted in the Nippon Kendo Shi (History of Japanese Kendo) that Musashi avoided the strong swordsmen, traveling mainly in the country side and fighting only with those of negligible ability. Nonetheless, because of the explanantion Musashi himself gave at the beginning of his book, Gorin No Sho (The Book of Five Rings), I find it difficult to agree with Yamada Sensei’s criticism.

  Briefly, Musashi said that from the age of 13 to about 28 or 29, he risked his life in dueling about sixty times and did not lose. But around the age of 30, he looked back over his experiences in combat and realized that, although he was victorious in all of his encounters, it was either because the opponent was unskilled or because of accident. He said that by no means did he win because he had attained the highest secrets of swordsmanship. From age 30 onward, he resolved to grasp the principle of the Way.

  After a tremendous effort, training day and night, he finally became enlightened to the Way of swordsmanship at about the age of 50. From then on there was no one particular Way through which to continue his training (shugyo) other than to spend his time calmly. By means of the principles he had realized in swordsmanship, he was able to master the Ways of various arts and skills although in all these things he did not have a teacher. His writings did not use Buddhism or the teachings of Confucius nor did he use the traditional books on strategy. In doing this he declared that he did not look back at the past.

  From this perspective, Musashi had been grasping in the dark before his enlightenment. Frequently, the opponents he beat before reaching age 30 had been weak and that is all we can say. There was a difference in the level of skill and in no way did he win by according with the principles of swordsmanship.

  Harigaya Sekiun, roughly a contemporary of Musashi, was the founder of the Mujushinken Ryu (the School of the Sword of Non- Abiding Mind). He is known for his criticism of swordsmanship that has one of only three outcomes: 1) victory over an inferior; 2) defeat by a superior; and 3) an equal aiuchi (mutual striking or killing). He called them all chikusho heiho (animal/beastly tactics). From the perspective of Harigaya’s three outcomes, there is no doubt that Musashi was strong, but strength alone without being awakened to the dignity of human nature in the final analysis is nothing more than the strength of the tiger or wolf. Musashi realized this mistake at age 30 and diligently devoted himself to transcending it. Even at that, it took him until age 50. Perhaps not many people could go beyond the limits of techniques.

  In his early days, Musashi was continually faced with win and loss, life and death. For him to live meant death for an opponent; for his opponent to win meant defeat for him. That world was the animal world of survival of the fittest. His sword could not go beyond chikusho heiho (animal/beastly tactics).

  It is not strange to see sheep scatter at seeing a lion. This is an example of the animal instinct of self-preservation. Why Musashi stayed in the country and avoided Edo we may never know, but it may have been like the sheep’s instinct to run from a lion. To criticize Musashi’s whole lifetime, however, because of those he fought or did not fight while young does injustice to his recognition that those duels were won without an understanding of the secrets of swordsmanship.

  I therefore cannot agree with the criticism of Musashi by the late Yamada Ittokusai Sensei. After the age of 50, Musashi truly experienced the Way of swordsmanship and truly attained Immovable Wisdom. We must not overlook that from that time forward, there was no particular way to train. He wrote that he spent his days and months distant and carefree. He had transcended the techniques of swordsmanship; swordsmanship as a means of “doing” something no longer remained. In this sense, swordsmanship itself becomes the purpose, the infinite dignity of man, the original principle, the Way. Beyond this there was nothing in particular to train for. There was no mountain peak for Musashi to reach; there was no path to follow. In other words, he was a retired man of the Way.

  Such a state is called spending one’s time leisurely. In Zen terminology: “In his advanced age of retirement, nothing happens; sound asleep in peace facing the blue mountain.” He had entrusted his life to fate through the non-action of the play of samadhi. In the book Homo Ludens (Play of Man), Hunsinger describes the “play” of looking at blood (e.g. the art of bull-fighting). If you can say that this is also true in the East, then it must be of this same state as the play of samadhi.

  During his later years, Musashi was asked to create many works of painting and calligraphy. He also made sword guards and sculptures of the highest quality. He was able to master these many arts because “through the essence of swordsmanship, one should be accomplished in the arts and crafts.” This is nothing but myoyo, the use of the wonderous, the miraculous, the creative, the creation of the Void. Musashi died at the age of 62 and was able therefore to taste and savor mastery of the mystery of the Way for no more than 10 years.

  In Musashi’s life, the art of killing leaped beyond death into myoki, wonderous “play.”5 This is not a state in which one can be removed from the idea of killing by mere thought. If that was true, the idea of giving life would be on the same level and could not be more than dualistic thought. The dualism of “killing” and “giving life” itself must both be killed and at the same time transcended. This in terms of the words of Harigaya Sekiun is ainuke (mutual passing). For all people and in all things one must be able to grasp this point, the state in which truth is fulfilled.

  Why is this possible? Because man can negate negation. In terms of the Hagakure “The Way of the samurai is to die.” In understanding this, man can attain self realization. According to Dogen Zenji, “Just forget and set free your mind and body and throw it into the house of the Buddha.” One can negate oneself and, furthermore, one can also transcend that negation. Hotoke no kata yori oko naware, kore ni shitagai mote yuku (Whatever takes place should be in accord with the Buddha Mind and beyond the Buddha Mind).6

  From the biological standpoint, there is no great difference between man and animals. But animals can only live as they were brought into this world by their mother. Man has an independent attribute: he can learn from experience and use it to alter the future. He is different from animals in that he has a creative characteristic, his reflective consciousness. One can live in a passive state like an animal, relying on the instinct of self-preservation, or, by negating the self and going beyond to the “Great Self,” one can live his“True Self.” This difference is obvious.

  From the biological standpoint, there is no great difference between man and animals. But animals can only live as they were brought into this world by their mother. Man has an independent attribute: he can learn from experience and use it to alter the future. He is different from animals in that he has a creative characteristic,
his reflective consciousness. One can live in a passive state like an animal, relying on the instinct of self–preser– vation, or, by negating the self and going beyond to the “Great Self,”one can live his “True Self.” This difference is obvious.

  The Way of swordsmanship that Musashi attained at 50 went beyond the spirit of beastly fighting to the state of ainuke (mutual passing) described by Harigaya Sekiun. Here all the oppositions of Life and Death, Win and Lose, Strong and Weak are transcended by means of transcending the self. One can call it a Way to transcend Life and Death (all dualism). Is this achievement the same as Zen or is it different?

  SeMul (Giving fearlessness)

  Unlike the fame of Musashi, few people today have heard of Yamaoka Tesshu. As I have already written a book about Tesshu, I will try to avoid repetition in this discussion.

  A person once asked Tesshu, “What is the secret of swordsmanship?” Tesshu answered, “It is entrusted to the Asakusa Kannon.” The student at once went to Asakusa, searched every-where in the temple and came to realize that the sign with the phrase “Se Mu I” (Se—give alms, carry out, conduct; Mu—void; I—fear) must be it. When he repeated this to Tesshu it is said that Tesshu answered “Kekko,” (very good) and laughed.