chanoyu-to-wa

[chanoyu-to-wa]

The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part V:  Poem 101.

〽 Cha wo tate-ba chashaku ni kokoro yoku-tsukete          chawan no soko ni tsuyoku-ataru na

    [茶を立てば茶杓に心よく付けて          茶碗の底に强く當るな].

    “When preparing the tea, take exceptional care with the chashaku, so you do not strike the bottom of the chawan with excessive force.”

     Kokoro yoku-tsukete [心よく付けて] means (the host) should be exceptionally (yoku-tsukete [よく付けて]¹) sensitive (kokoro [心]²).  As a whole, this phrase is interpreted to mean being very, very careful or attentive (to something).

    Chawan no soko ni [茶碗の底に]:  chawan no soko [茶碗の底] means the bottom, the inner face, of the bowl -- specifically the part elsewhere called the cha-damari [茶溜り], the often slightly depressed area where the tea is laid as it is being unloaded from the chaire; the particle ni [に] indicates the direction of focus of the words that follow.

    Tsuyoku-ataru na [强く當るな]:  tsuyoku [强く] implies things like strongly, powerfully, forcefully, intensely, robustly; ataru [當る] means confront, meet, encounter, and by extension to strike, to hit, to touch, to contact (it is the latter two of these “extended meanings” that allow for several of the possible interpretations of this verse described below); while the particle na [な] is a contracted form of naa [usually written なー or なあ], which is an imperative prohibitive, which would be translated “don’t (do that)!”

    This poem can be interpreted in several different ways³:

1) After transferring the matcha into the chawan, the host needs to tap the chashaku in order to dislodge any tea that is still clinging to it, and it is to this tap that the verb ataru [當る] is assumed to refer.

    This is usually done by tapping the side of the chashaku against the rim of the chawan.  However, in the case of an old chawan (which may have unrecognized cracks mascarading as crackles in the glaze), or a meibutsu chawan, doing so can risk damaging the rim.  In such cases, it was thought better to tap it against the bottom of the bowl (since the risk of damage is significantly less).  

    Today, striking the chashaku against the bottom of the bowl is most commonly done when serving tea with a temmoku-chawan⁴.

2) After transferring the matcha into the chawan, the tea should be spread out across the cha-damari into a uniform layer, using the tip of the chashaku.  At this time, if the host notices any clumps⁵, he should try to break them up (unobtrusively) with the tip of the chashaku -- with this poem being understood to remind him to do this gently, so as not to damage the chawan.

3) Others explain this poem to mean that the host should be careful when spreading the matcha across the cha-damari, because he could accidentally scratch⁶ the bottom of the chawan with the tip of the chashaku if he presses down⁷ too forcefully.

    The fact that one of these explanations might be preferred as an interpretation of this poem does not necessarily invalidate the others -- since, in technical terms, all of them are important points that the beginner should be careful to avoid when serving tea.

    This poem is found only in Jōō’s Matsu-ya manuscript (and Rikyū’s 1580 version, which essentially reproduces Jōō’s text)⁸.

_________________________

¹Yoku-tsukete [よく付けて]:  yoku [よく = 良く], acting as an adverb, means thoroughly, very, fully; the verb tsukeru [付ける] means affix, attach, join, apply (to).  In other words, the host should be extremely careful (when performing the action described in the shimo-no-ku of this poem).

²Kokoro [心] literally means heart or, by extension, mind or spirit.  These derived meanings are further extended to mean the actions of the mind or spirit -- in this case, via mood or feeling, to the idea of sensitivity to something, being hyper-aware of the intimacies of a particular situation.

³In order of decreasing frequency in the scholarly explanations.

⁴Because such chawan often have a thin metal band* applied to the rim, which can be dented by a blow from the chashaku, the tap was directed at the bottom of the bowl -- usually on one side of the chawan-damari (which is above the thickest part of the foot). ___________ *This band is called a fukurin [覆輪].  It was traditionally heat-shrunk onto the rim of the bowl (so the use of adhesives could be eschewed -- both because the adhesive might contain a toxic material, and because any adhesive will weaken over time, making the fukurin liable to falling off unexpectedly).

    The most commonly used metals were gold and silver, in Rikyū’s day (and before), with bronze and then brass appearing later, in the Edo period.  The former are very soft, and easily dented; that latter two came into use precisely because they are less easy to dent (however, the higher heat necessary to shrink these fukurin onto the rim of the bowl carried an elevated risk, and so was used more commonly for newly imported pieces).  Nevertheless, the meibutsu pieces still retained their original gold or silver fukurin, so the advisory remained in force.

⁵These clumps in the powdered matcha* can easily develop into katamari [固まり] (lumps remaining in the blended koicha -- or even usucha -- that can not be dispersed, even if the host tries to break them up with the chasen), which will ruin the guest’s enjoyment of the tea. ___________ *Katamari [固まり] are most commonly a result of the host’s failing to sift the matcha prior to dispensing it into the chaire.

    However, even when the tea was sifted first, if the chaire is jarred or bumped with sufficient force, or if the tea was loaded into it too long beforehand (something that beginners are often wont to do), the tea can settle and compact into clods of this type, which become even denser when they are dumped into the chawan from some height (which is why Rikyū discouraged the practice of pouring the matcha into the chawan by rotating the chaire above its mouth, as most modern schools teach -- this was another way that Imai Sōkyū exhibitedᵃ his sense of “wabi”).

    The matcha should always be handled gently and carefully in order to insure a good a bowl of koicha as possible. ___________ ᵃThis is something that modern practitioners of chanoyu need to understand -- at least if they are interested in experiencing (or, at least, understanding) Rikyū’s approach to chanoyu:  Imai Sōkyū’s modus operandi was demonstrative, while Rikyū’s was logical and practical:  

- In this case we are considering here, Sōkyū demonstrated his unconcern with the chaire by handling it roughly (rotating the chaire above the chawan is dangerous, since accidentally dropping it could not only shatter the chaire, but crack the chawan as well), while Rikyū held that, expensive or inexpensive, the chaire (and, indeed, all the utensils) should be handled carefully -- since someone who is careful when using an inexpensive and easily replaced utensil will naturally handle a meibutsu piece appropriately.

- When performing the chasen-tōshi, Imai Sōkyū went through an elaborate ritual of lifting up the chasen so that he could inspect the tines closely, to make sure none were loose or broken.  Rikyū, however, held that, since the host had already examined the chasen carefully when preparing the chawan in the mizuya, there was no need to do so during the temae.  Rather, by prolonging the chasen-tōshi in this way the host was allowing the hot water in the chawan to cool, defeating the purpose of performing the chasen-tōshi in the first place (since the idea was to allow the chawan to warm completely, so the koicha could be served to the guest as hot as appropriate to the season).

- When serving tea with the daisu in front of Hideyoshi, Sōkyū cleaned the temmoku with his thumb at the beginning of the temae, to demonstrate his dedication to cleanliness.  Rikyū, on the other hand, explained that, since the temmoku had already been cleaned carefully and thoroughly in the mizuya before it was brought out to the daisu, there was no reason to go through this action again in front of the guest -- because the more likely outcome would be that the host was soiling the temmoku unnecessarily by rubbing it with his thumb.

    It is said that it was this explanation that earned Rikyū the title of chief tea official -- though, of course, he had already clinched that position by going to Yamazaki to meet Hideyoshi on his return from his battle with Akechi Mitsuhide, while Sōkyū had stayed safely behind in Kyōto, preferring to await the outcome, and so reserving his allegiance for the actual victor rather than throwing in his lot before anything had been decided.

⁶Bamboo contains a significant amount of crystalline silica, which can easily scratch low-fired glazes (such as the transparent glaze used on traditional red Raku bowls).

⁷When spreading the matcha, so it is distributed uniformly across the cha-damari, it should not be necessary for the tip of the chashaku to come into contact with the bottom of the bowl at all.  That said, beginners are often more aggressive than need be (especially after learning that clumps of matcha can easily develop into katamari, which will ruin the tea -- and so give the host a bad reputation*).

    The same word of caution was also given with respect to the handling of the chashaku during the action of blending or whisking the tea†. ___________ *This is a common motivation behind many of the mistakes that beginners typically make.

    In the Matsu-ya manuscript, this poem is found fairly early in the series (it is #11), indicating its importance for the beginner.

†As discussed in the following footnote, which draws attention to that poem.

⁸One possible reason for this is that it was conflated with poem 75 (in the Kyūshū manuscript), which provides a parallel word of caution against pressing the chashaku forcefully against the bottom of the chawan: 

〽 cha wo tate-ba chasen ni kokoro yoku-tsukete          chawan no soko [h]e tsuyoku-ataru na

    [茶を立てば茶筌に心よく付けて          茶碗の底へ强く當るな].

    “When preparing tea, the chasen [should be] handled with great care, so that it does not scrape forcefully against the bottom of the chawan*.”

    The matter of being conflated is only amplified by the absence of the above-cited poem from the Matsu-ya manuscript (and other early collections of the Chanoyu hyaku shu [茶湯百首], such as Rikyū’s 1580 manuscript) -- leading some scholars to suggest that they should actually be the same poem, and that one or the other of these versions was the result of an early copyist’s error.  (That said, the fact that the version found in the Matsu-ya manuscript is, by far, the earliest, and so presumably the original, would suggest that Hosokawa Sansai may have been responsible for the erroneous rendering -- since his version is found only in the collections that can be connected directly with him.) __________ *Please refer to the post entitled the Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part III:  Poem 75.  The URL for which is:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/774043500239028224/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iii-poem-75

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A Complete List of the Posts in the Chanoyu-to-wa Translation of the Chanoyu Hyaku-shu (Part IV).

Index for Part IV:

Poem 76: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/774962837329231872/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-76

Poem 77: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/775583636355530752/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-77

Poem 78: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/775946047366332416/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-78

Poem 79: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/776217811183927296/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-79

Poem 80: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/776580195558834176/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-80

Poem 81: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/776852000230998016/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-81

Poem 82: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/777214384862838784/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-82

Poem 83: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/777486177158758400/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-83

Poem 84: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/777848551609876480/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-84

Poem 85: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/778120358606798848/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-85

Poem 86: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/778482738197053440/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-86

Poem 87: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/778754519244898304/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-87

Poem 88: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/779116921220202496/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-88

Poem 89: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/779388720310796288/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-89

Poem 90: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/779751092242235392/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-90

Poem 91: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/780022898444419072/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-91

Poem 92: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/780657063037681664/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-92

Poem 93: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/781019466066755585/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-93

Poem 94: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/781291242272292864/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-94

Poem 95: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/782559600143663104/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-95

Poem 96: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/783827948544425984/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-96

Appendix, Part I: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/783828848670310401/appendix-a-dissertation-on-the-nature-of-zen

Appendix, Part II: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/785368137912778752/appendix-a-dissertation-on-the-nature-of-zen

Poem 97: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/785730493863837696/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-97

Poem 98: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/786092895958630400/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-98

Poem 99: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/786364669357178880/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-99

Poem 100: https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/786727065615581184/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-100

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Though the Kyūshū Manuscript ends here, an additional 21 poems (many of them variations on Jōō’s original verses made by Rikyū) are found scattered across the various other collections.  These poems will be discussed in Part V.

[chanoyu-to-wa]

The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 100.

〽 Oki-awase kokoro wo tsukete miru zo-kashi          fukuro no nui-me tatami-me ni oke

    [置合せ心を付けて見るぞかし          袋の縫目疊目に置け].

    “With respect to the arrangement of the utensils, be conscientious and [take a moment to] look at it [before the guests come in]!  The seams of the bags should be aligned with the lines of the mat.”

     Oki-awase [置合せ] refers to the arrangement of the utensils -- specifically the arrangement that the guests will inspect when they first enter the room at the beginning of the shoza and the goza.

    Kokoro wo tsukete [心を付けて] means to be careful, to be attentive (to the details of something)¹.

    Miru zo-kashi [見るぞかし]:  miru [見る] means to look at or check (the arrangement); while the particle complex zo-kashi [ぞかし]² gives strong emphasis to the action of the verb miru -- tantamount, in this context, to a command.  Jōō is ordering the beginner to review the minute details of the arrangement before admitting the guests into the room.

    Fukuro no nui-me [袋の縫目] means the seams³ of the various bags (shifuku [仕覆]) in which several of the utensils⁴ might be displayed -- most conspicuously, the chaire. 

    Fukuro no nui-me tatami-me ni oke [袋の縫目疊目に置け] means that the utensils should be placed (oke [置け]) so that the seams of their bags (fukuro no nui-me [袋の縫目]) are aligned (implied by the particle ni [に]) with the lines on the tatami (tatami-me [疊目]).

    This poem, which is better known than most, even outside of Japan (due to its having been featured in Arthur Sadler’s CHA-NO-YU:  the Japenese Tea Ceremony⁵), is outwardly self-explanatory.  But what Jōō is trying to instill in his readers is that they should be careful not to overlook even the most insignificant details when preparing for the chanoyu.  Someone who is careful regarding the smaller things is not likely to overlook things that are much more important -- and this, of course, was his point.

    This poem is found in all of the collections, surely because its cautionary warning is uniformly important to everyone, not just the beginners.

_________________________

¹Kokoro wo tsukete [心を付けて] is a somewhat antiquated expression (though it has returned to currency in the setting of activities like chanoyu), equivalent to the modern-day ki wo tsukeru [気をつける], “be careful,” and chū-i wo ataeru [注意を与える], “pay attention (to what you are doing)” -- the latter as a warning.

    Today, kokoro [wo] tsukete is more commonly used to mean give a (monetary) tip (as an expression of thanks for a service* rendered). ___________ *Such as conveying a note to a third party.

²The particle zo [ぞ] expresses emphasis or assertion; this is followed by the (auxiliary) interjectory particle kashi [かし], which not only gives added emphasis, but also implies that consent on the part of the auditor is expected.

³There are between four and six nui-me [縫目] on the ordinary shifuku*, the most prominent of which is oriented front to back.

    It is this front-to-back seam that is supposed to be oriented as described in the poem.

    Note that, because this seam is present on both the front and the back sides, the host should be careful that the nui-me on both sides is aligned with the line on the mat.  So Jōō is not only saying that the front seam should correspond with the line, but that the host should make sure that the utensil is straight as well. ___________ *Ordinary chaire no shifuku usually have one nui-me in the front, one in the back, and one on each side.  Shifuku for wider objects, or pieces with unusual shapes -- such as larger chaire and chawan -- can occasionally have two nui-me on each side, as a consequence of the shape of the object that is being covered.

⁴While today it is usually only the chaire that is displayed in its shifuku (and only when koicha is going to be served*), in Jōō’s day it was not uncommon for a meibutsu chawan, and even the chashaku†, to be tied into a shifuku when displayed on the mat, or shelf, at the beginning of the shoza or goza. ___________ *In earlier times (particularly when tea was being served with the daisu), even the container of tea that would be served as usucha was tied in a shifuku, especially when serving tea to an important guest, because this was intended to protect the tea from being degraded by pressing the lid tightly against the mouth of the chaire, thereby preventing the volatile components from escaping.

†When it had been made by a famous master (usually someone from an earlier generation).

    According to the Nampō roku [南方錄], in the earliest days of chanoyu in Japan, when Akamatsu Sadamura [赤松貞村; 1393 ~ 1447] served tea to the shōgun, Ashikaga Yoshinori [足利義教; 1394 ~ 1441] (known in his retirement as Fukōin-dono [普廣院殿]), even though the shōgun (who was both his lord and the premier chajin of that era) had carved the chashaku with his own hands, Sadamura is said to have displayed it on the daisu without its shifuku -- because the person who made it was still alive.

⁵A. L. Sadler, CHA-NO-YU:  the Japanese Tea Ceremony (1933, J. L. Thompson & Co., Kobe, and Trench, Trubner & Co., Ltd., London; reprinted, 1962, Charles E.Tuttle Company, Inc., Rutland, Vermont, and Tokyo, Japan; ISBN 0-8048-1224-1.) 

    In what appears to be a prose rendition*, Sadler translates poem 100, on page 108, as: 

“Utensils must be put down each exactly in its proper place, and their bags with their seams on the lines of the mats.”

___________ *In his translations, Sadler appears to be relying on what someone else has told him, rather than translating directly from the Japanese.  That is, he has taken an explanation of the meaning of these poems that was given to him by someone else, and then attempted to refine the English.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 99.

〽 Me ni mo mi yo mimi ni mo fure yo ka wo kagite          koto wo toitsutsu yoku gaten seyo

    [目にも見よ耳にも觸れよ香を嗅ぎて          事を問ひつヽよく合點せよ].

    “Look with [your] eyes! hear with [your] ears!  And if [you] are smelling the fragrance, while asking about [these] matters, make sure that [you] grasp the whole point [of what you are being told]!”“

    Me ni mo mi yo [目にも見よ]:  look (miru [見る]) with your eyes (me ni mo [目にも]), with the final particle yo [よ] essentially changing the verb into an interjection¹ -- “see!”

    Mimi ni mo fure yo [耳にも觸れよ]:  perceive (fureru [觸れる])² with your ears (mimi ni mo [耳にも]), with yo [よ] again adding emphasis, as above -- “listen!”

    Ka wo kagite [香を嗅ぎて]³:  if you smell (kagu [嗅ぐ]⁴) the fragrance (ka wo [香を]⁵)....

    Koto wo toitsutsu [事を問つヽ]:  the verb tou [問う] means to ask about something, make inquiries, while koto [事] -- matters, affairs, things (that are going on) -- is the direct object of that verb (as indicated by the particle wo [事を]).

    As for the construction -tsutsu [つつ] that is suffixed to the verb tou [問う], it indicates that, while doing what the verb to which it is appended indicates (in this case, making inquiries as to the meaning of “things”), one should endeavor to do the thing that is named in the following clause (which is yoku gaten seyo [よく合點せよ]).

    Yoku gaten seyo [よく合點せよ]:  yoku [よく] means thoroughly, completely, comprehensively (do something); the verb gaten-suru [合點する] means to accept (something as fact), to understand, to be convinced, to grasp the point (of something), and so forth; while seyo [せよ] is the imperative form of the verb suru [為る], which means “to do” or “to be.”  So, “make sure that you grasp the point completely!”

    This poem, then, may be interpreted in this way:  if, while looking and listening⁶, you do indeed notice things that cause you to wonder about your understanding, make sure to ask about those things -- and, while interacting with your mentor, make very sure that you really understand everything that is being told to you.  (And if you don’t, you should be sure to press for further details.)

    This verse is found in the collections associated with Hosokawa Sansai, as well as in one of the manuscripts that were archived by Katagiri Sadamasa⁷.  

_________________________

¹This is equivalent to placing an exclamation point at the end of the phrase -- as I have done in the translation.

²While the verb fureru [觸れる] would literally mean perceive in this context*, the way we perceive with the ears is to listen or hear.  Hence the translation. __________ *The verb is more commonly used to mean “touch,” “feel;” and by extension, “experience,” “perceive,” and “(come into) contact (with)” -- from where it is further extended to include ideas like “touch on,” “mention,” and “refer to.”

³Ka wo kagite [香を嗅ぎて] is similar in meaning to the English idiom “smell the coffee.”

⁴Kagi [嗅ぎ] is the conjunctive form of the verb kagu [嗅ぐ], which means to sniff, to smell (with the nose)*.  The suffix te [て] indicates a continuing action. __________ *Care must be taken with the English, since kagu can never mean smell (that is, give off an unpleasant odor).

⁵The particle wo [を] indicates that ka [香], fragrance, is the direct object of the verb kagu [嗅ぐ], to sniff, to smell.

⁶When you really, consciously, make the effort to look and listen, you will often notice things that never caught your eye, or occurred to you, before.

⁷Apparently Sadamasa’s document was written between the second and fourth decades of the Edo period, though it was not one of the collections that directly resulted from Sansai’s activities.

    That said, it may have represented one of the sources from which Sansai gathered poems to add to his collection (since his inclusion of poems that cannot be associated with either Jōō or Rikyū, at least from their extant writings, suggests that Sansai was not just writing the poems down from a 50-year-old memory, but was -- actively or subconsciously -- incorporating verses of more recent memory, even if he was not deliberately composing some of them himself).

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 98.

〽 Jōzu ni ha suki to kiyō to isaumu to          kono mitsu sorou-hito zo yoku shiru

    [上手には數奇と器用と功績むと          此の三ツ揃う人ぞよく知る].

    “With respect to mastery, there are suki, proficiency, and achievements:  all of these three [should be] present in [such] a person -- understand this well!”

    Jōzu ni ha [上手には]:  jōzu [上手], in the present context¹, refers to someone who is gifted, talented, skillful, proficient; the particles ni ha [には] indicate that what follows will clarify what jōzu means.

    Suki [數奇] is one of the special words used in chanoyu.  In a kaki-ire [書入] that was pasted² onto the endpaper (mikaeshi [見返し]) of the second scroll of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō [茶湯三百箇條]³, Rikyū explains the meaning of suki [數奇] in these words:

    “The character su [数] means not just to gather together a number of things, but that this should be done in accordance with the classical teachings; in earlier times, things were always done like this.

    “And with respect to the character ki [奇], it means that each person should directly investigate these matters in intimate detail for himself³.”

    This is elaborated upon (perhaps by Uesugi Kenshin) in a note that was added to Rikyū’s explanation:

     “When doing chanoyu, the most important thing with regard to the way in which the utensils are arranged, and combined [with the others], is that this should be done in accordance with the what you were taught.  Nevertheless, each person, according to his own abilities, should endeavor to select and place the utensils in the way that seems best [to him].  The true meaning of this ki [奇] must be incorporated into everything one does:  this is of the utmost importance when practicing suki. The things that the people who follow other paths [that is, other schools or traditions] teach represent a deviant form of chanoyu which, when compared with the original conception [the way advocated by Rikyū], is wholly lacking in interest⁴.”

    Thus, suki refers to the attributes described above -- which may be summarized as referring to the person’s intellectual abilities.

    Kiyō [器用] means things like proficiency, skillfulness (with the hands), cleverness, (manual) dexterity -- the word is referring specifically to the person's physical abilities in performing the temae and staging a tea gathering.

    Isaumu [功績む] refers to one’s achievements, meritorious deeds, or exploits.  In other words, to the local tea society’s recognition of the individual’s capacity, capability, and skill at executing all things connected with chanoyu.

    Kono mitsu sorou-hito zo [此の三ツ揃う人ぞ]:  kono mitsu [此の三ツ] means the (above-described) three (attributes); sorou-hito [揃う人] means means a person in whom the three are full and complete, one in whom they are all wholly present⁵; while the particle zo [ぞ] that completes this phrase adds force, indicating that a person like this is an absolute exemplar of the case in point.

    Yoku shiru [よく知る], addressing the poem’s audience, means (you) must understand this thoroughly or completely.

    This is another of the poems that are found in all of the sources, indicating that it was part of Jōō’s original collection of the Hundred Poems⁶.

    The different versions juggle minor orthographic differences (the most notable of which is that Omotesenke’s version substitutes ha [は] for zo [ぞ] in the first phrase of the shimo-no-ku, which could possibly be interpreted as dampening the emphasis slightly⁷; while Sekishū’s Rikyū version replaces the original ending of yoku-shiru [よく知る], meaning “understand this thoroughly,” with yoku-naru [よくなる], which would make the shimo-no-ku mean something like “that (such) a person⁸ be possessed of all these three -- this should certainly be the case!”). 

_________________________

¹Jōzu [上手] can also be used to refer to someone who is overbearing, authoritarian, dictatorial; and also to someone who is one’s superior.  These ways of interpreting the word jōzu are not applicable to the present situation.

²It is generally believed that this was most likely done by Sen no Dōan [千道安; 1546 ~ 1607], or his disciple Kuwayama Sōsen [桑山宗仙; 1560 ~ 1632], at the time when the two were adding their commentary to the Uesugi Kenshin [上杉謙信; 1530 ~ 1578] manuscript of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō*.  However, since the kaki-ire was written in Rikyū’s own handwriting, there is also the possibility that Kenshin cut it out of another document (such as a personal letter†) and added it to his manuscript as the clearest exposition of the meaning of suki [數奇], from the hand of the man who was recognized as Jōō’s most intimate disciple.

    As for how this piece of paper was attached to the scroll, the scholar Takeda Yosaburo (who made a comprehensive study of the original set of Uesugi Kenshin’s scrolls of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō) indicates that it was pasted onto the mikaeshi [見返し] (endpaper, as indicated above), the blank (and often decorative) piece of paper found at the beginning end of a handscroll (and usually equal to one circumference around the rolled-up scroll, the purpose of which is to help prevent damage to the document). ___________ *Scholars generally credit either Jōō or Katagiri Sadamasa with the authorship of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō (the latter because the most extensive commentary known -- before Uesugi Kenshin’s manuscript was discovered in the Katagiri family archives -- was the one that had been passed down within the Sekishū school of chanoyu, where it had come to be known as the Sekishū san-byak’ka jō [石州三百箇條]:  the commentary in the Sekishū san-byak’ka jō dates to the middle Edo period, and differs significantly from what is found in Kenshin’s Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō).  However, according to Kenshin, Jōō always ascribed authorship to Shukō (though it is obvious that at least some of the sections were added later, in one or two cases clearly by Uesugi Kenshin himself).

†Any connection between the daimyō Uesugi Kenshin and Rikyū remains unclear; but it is known that Kenshin created his manuscript of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō between 1568 and 1578, and it was during the second half of that period that Rikyū was finally rising as an important force in the world of tea -- thus it is not impossible that Kenshin applied to Rikyū for an explanation of the true meaning of suki in much the same way that Nambō Sōkei had approached Rikyū for help understanding Jōō’s manuscript on the chanoyu of the daisu (which Jōō transmitted to Sōkei from his deathbed), the manuscript that later came to be preserved as Book Five of the Nampō roku.

³Rikyū’s original words are:

su no ji  kazu atsumuru naran mata sadashi sekiji ha shibashi to dzuku nari

[數の字 カズアツムルナランマタサタシ昔時ハシバシト續ク也]

ki no ji  sugururui tori katakata ayashimu

[奇の字 スグルルヒトリカタカタアヤシム]

    The entire kaki-ire has been translated several times in this blog -- most recently in the post entitled the Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 79. The URL for which is:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/776217811183927296/the-chanoyu-hyaku-shu-%E8%8C%B6%E6%B9%AF%E7%99%BE%E9%A6%96-part-iv-poem-79

    This earlier translation includes some additional material that I felt was unnecessary to repeat in the present post.

⁴The original text:

chanoyu tsukamatsuru-toki, sho-dōgu no oki-awase tori-awase naraí no gotoku nose-ai mōsu- beku sōrō-koto dai ichi nari, sari-nagara sono hito-bito no kiryō ni yotte oki-awase tori-awase tsukamatsuru-beku sōrō, kono ki-no-ji no kokoro wo motte kufū no ue ni te toku to gatten itashi, sūki tsukamatsuru koto kan-yō nari , u-kaku tsukamatsuru koto ta-ryū tsutae naki no chanoyu naru-beku nao mata hon-i ni somuki omoshirokarazu sōrō nari

[茶の湯仕る時、諸道具の置き合わせ取り合わせ習のごとく載せ合い申すべく候事第一也、さりながらその人〻の器量によって置合せ取合せ仕るべく候、此の奇の字の心を以って工夫の上にて得と合點致し、數奇仕る事肝要なり、うかく仕る事他流伝え無きの茶の湯なるべく尚又本意に背き面白からず候也].

    The URL for this passage is the same as that given under the previous sub-note.

⁵The word sou [揃う] includes the nuance of several disparate parts (in this case, the three attributes) that combine to make a complete set or unit (the man of mastery).

⁶In the Matsu-ya manuscript (as well as Rikyū’s 1580 manuscript copy of the collection), this is the fifth poem in the series, found immediately after the poems that describe things like tempo and focus, which suggests that Jōō wanted the beginner to keep these things in mind (perhaps as a goal toward which he should try to orient himself as his grasp of chanoyu deepens).

⁷Possibly suggesting that mastery, as here described, is perhaps less of an impossibility than Jōō’s original version might have it seem.

⁸That is, a person who is considered to be a master (jōzu sou-no-hito [上手揃うの人]).

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 97.

〽 Kiku-sahō mamori-tsukushite yaburu to mo          hanaruru tote mo moto wo wasureru

    [規矩作法守り盡くして破るとも          離るゝとても本を忘る].

    “The rules of measurements and etiquette, whether [you] adhere to them [faithfully], or break them:  if [you] depart from them completely, [you] will forget the fundamentals.”

    Kiku [規矩] originally referred to measuring instruments -- rulers, compasses, carpenters’ squares, and the like -- and only by extension to the idea of measurements, and so to concepts like criteria, rules, norms and standards.

    Sahō [作法] is used to refer to manners and deportment, what is usually generalized as etiquette.

    Mamori-tsukushite [守り盡くして] means something like “(whether you adhere to) all the guardrails,” “(whether you) stay within) their protective sphere of influence” -- that is, everything that makes a person’s temae conform to, or be identifiable as, the temae that belongs to a certain school or tradition.

    Yaburu to mo [破るとも]:  the verb yaburu [破る] means to demolish, to destroy, to break, to tear, to rend, and so forth -- the image is like a piece of pottery dashed against the pavement, or a piece of cloth rent into shreds. The addition of the particles to mo [とも] -- which convey the sense of even if, no matter (who, what, when, where, why, or how), though, and although -- results in ideas like “even if (one) breaks (the rules)...;” “though (one) violates (all the conventions)....”

    The kami-no-ku [上の句] is referring to the question of whether we adhere to or break specific rules or certain customary embellishments in the temae.

     Hanareru¹ tote mo [離れるとても] means “most certainly, if (tote mo [とても]) you depart completely (hanareru [離れる])” -- from the conventions more broadly or fully, such as doing things in a way that your school never imagined (or even condemned)².

    Moto wo wasureru [本を忘る] means to forget the original way (you were taught to do something), the fundamental principals.  Which is something that you should always be very cautious to avoid doing.

    The shimo-no-ku [下の句] is a warning not to go too far in discarding what you have been taught, since if we do so we will be in danger of loosing our grounding -- forgetting those essential points in the temae that are critical to successfully making a good bowl of tea, and so end up spoiling the reason why we invited the guests to come to our tea room in the first place .

    In other words, if we wish to do something differently -- in order to express our own individual personality, as it were -- we have to consider whether a given rule or action is based on necessity³, or is something that was an added artifice created by one specific school (usually with the intention of making their temae seem different from the competition)⁴.  Changing or even discarding the latter will have little negative impact; but changing something that is fundamental will frustrate our ability to prepare a good bowl of tea.  Thus, the host must consider everything very carefully, in context, before deciding to change something.

    Once again, this poem is found only in those collections that descend from the version of the Hundred Poems released to his followers by Hosokawa Sansai -- thereby clearly indicating the source for this verse.

_________________________

¹Hanaruru [離るる] is an antique construction.  In modern Japanese, the preferred form is hanareru [離れる = 離る].

²Hanareru literally means things like “to take one’s leave,” “to quit,” “to depart (from),” to “get out,” to “exit,” to “leave,” "to depart,” “to decamp,” “to pull up one’s stakes,” and so forth.  It, therefore, implies something more radical than simply changing the way one folds the chakin, or how one orients the handle of the hishaku when resting it on the futaoki.

³An example of this would be something like the chasen-tōshi [茶筅通し].

    The chasen-tōshi is necessary because, in addition to ensuring that the chawan is thoroughly warmed*, is also important because it cleans the chasen while also allowing the host to test it (by performing both a kneading and a whisking action) prior to its being used to prepare koicha and usucha. ___________ *Things like the ido-chawan, and other Korean bowls, frequently have large (and often dense) feet.  Pouring hot water into the chawan and then discarding it almost immediately will not be enough to warm the foot through and through.  

    Therefore pouring hot water into the bowl a second time, and then rinsing (and testing) the chasen, will ensure that hot water contacts the bowl for long enough to guarantee that the foot will be warmed completely (meaning it will not suck the heat out of the koicha, which will be ruined as a result).

⁴An example of this kind of added, but unnecessary, action is the lifting up of the chasen during the chasen-tōshi so the host can inspect it with a dramatic flourish.  This was something added to the temae by Imai Sōkyū* that was not originally part of the classical temae.  There is no need to “prove” or “demonstrate” your conscientiousness or consideration by performing this kind of action in front of the eyes of the guests.

    Rikyū said that, since the chasen should always be inspected carefully in the mizuya, such exaggeratedly performative actions are unnecessary in the tea room -- indeed, they can all too easily evolve into distractions that will take everyone’s attention away from the real purpose of chanoyu in the spirit of wabi.

    The chasen-tōshi should be simple†:  the idea is to rinse the chasen, while also testing it, to make sure it will perform not just the whisking action (used when making usucha, as well as to clean the chasen), but also the kneading action (used when preparing koicha), while simultaneously warming the chawan thoroughly, so the tea will be hot when it arrives in the guests’ hands.  Serving the best tea possible is the only reason why people gather in the wabi small room. ___________ *Which is why it became a critical feature of the modern temae as it is performed by virtually every school -- since Shōan and Sōtan were disciples of Sōkyū, and Sōtan’s temae became the only legitimate way to serve tea during the first half-century of the Tokugawa period (at least when a representative of the Tokugawa bakufu was present).  Doing things differently could have serious consequences (intentionally deviating from Sōtan’s often highly idiosyncratic temae carried the potential of being used as supporting evidence, if the host was suspected of treason against the bakufu).

†Rikyū held that the temae should always be simple, direct, and efficient -- no matter whom you are serving or what utensils you are using. There is no reason to add embellishments and performative flourishes, since the only purpose of the temae is to prepare a good bowl of tea.

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❖ Appendix:  A Dissertation on the Nature of Zen Tea Utensils, from Takuan Sōhō’s Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄], Part II.

    In the Lotus Sūtra [it is written] “strength is receptive [like] a good vessel³⁷”  Therefore, if [you] discipline yourself diligently, even if you are a person of poor ability³⁸, you will certainly receive [this] good vessel³⁹. 

    Approaching the gate of Zen-tea, in the end [you] will become a good vessel, so it is said.

    If, in the Jiāyǔ [家語]⁴⁰ [we read:]

“walking with a good man, it is like walking through mist and dew:  even though your clothes do not become wet, you constantly feel drenched [with a warm and comfortable feeling],”

“walking with an ignorant man, it is like sitting in a toilet:  even though your garments are not dirty, you will continue to smell the stench [that has permeated into them],”

“walking with a wicked man, it is like walking in the midst of [drawn] knives and swords:  though you are not harmed, you are constantly filled with trepidation⁴¹,”

[then we] must [be careful] not to go down an evil path, not even for a moment⁴².

    It is a fact that the results are always the fruit of [our] habitual way of doing things:  evil [necessarily] leads [one] to a bad place, while good leads [us] to a good place⁴³.   So [you] should earnestly rouse yourself, and pluck up your courage [to strive for what is good].  [I] sincerely entreat [you] to endeavor to achieve [a state of] Zen-tea, since [in doing so] you will not only escape the king’s prison in this life⁴⁴; but, when [you] die, the gateways to the three [unfortunate] paths will be closed⁴⁵ -- so that, without any doubt, you will surely ascend to Heaven and attain salvation⁴⁶.  Having carried out this [process], Heaven and Earth will be united in the perfectly brilliant purity of [this] treasured utensil⁴⁷!  This is what is meant by Zen-tea utensils.

    Those old bowls and antique vessels that are so greatly prized and esteemed [by the tea world at large] -- what is to be gained by treasuring such things⁴⁸?

_________________________

[The numbering of the footnotes continues from Part I.]

³⁷Chikara ha kore taetaru ukuru no zen-ki nari [力是堪受善器也].

    This phrase is found not in the Lotus Sūtra, but in a commentary on the phrase rúshì lì [如是力]* that is found in the second chapter of that sūtra.  The words rúshì lì are found in a passage where the Buddha is describing his own perception of tathātā [तथाता]† to his disciple, Śāriputra:

zhǐ, Shēlìfú, bù xū fù, suǒ-yǐ zhě hé, fó suǒ chéngjiù dì yī xī yǒu nán jiě zhī fǎ, wéi fó yǔ fú nǎi néng jiū jìn zhū fǎ shí xiāng, suǒ wèi zhū fǎ rúshì xiāng, rúshì xìng, rúshì tǐ, rúshì, rúshì lì, rúshì zuò, rúshì yīn, rúshì yuán, rúshì guǒ, rúshì bào, rúshì běn-mò jiū jìng děng

[止、舍利弗、不須復、所以者何、佛所成就第一希有難解之法、唯佛與佛乃能究盡諸法實相、所謂諸法如是相、如是性、如是體、如是力、如是作、如是因、如是緣、如是果、如是報、如是本末究竟等].

    “Stop, Shēlìfú [Śāriputra]‡.  It is not necessary to say more.  Why is that [you might ask]?  [Because it is the result of] the most difficult and rare Dharma of the Buddha’s accomplishment.  Only a Buddha can fully understand the true nature of all phenomena --  suchness is their appearance, suchness is their nature, suchness is their entity, suchness is their power, suchness are their functions, suchness is their primary causation, suchness is their secondary causation, suchness is their latent effect, suchness is their recompense, [and] suchness is the consistency from beginning to end**....”

    Rúshì lì [如是力] means “the tathātā** of strength††,” or “the ‘suchness’ of power.”

    As for the words that Takuan cites, this is somewhat problematic because he has misquoted a misquotation‡‡.  The ultimate source, however, is the Fǎhuá-jīng rùshū [法華經入疏] ( “A Commentary on the Lotus Sūtra”) by the Song period scholar(?) Dào Wēirù [道威入; dates and other biographical details unknown; he is known only from this commentary].

    The section, in scroll two of this commentary, in which he discusses the phrase rúshì lì [如是力], we find the phrases:

rén-tiān kān-rèn shàn-qì shòu lè.  wéi rén tiān lì yě.  

[人天堪任善器受樂。為人天力也].

    “2) People and the Heavenly Beings can handle the right attitude and mindset, and obtain satisfaction as a result.  This is the [special] Power of humans and of the Heavenly Beings.”

    This somehow became***:

lì shì kān-rèn shàn-qì

[力是堪任善器]

which means “strength is capable of being a good vessel.”

    The Japanese version quoted by Takuan, though differing in one kanji, has a similar meaning (“strength is receptive like a good vessel”) -- the verb ukuru [受くる:  ukeru, 受ける, in the modern language] (to get, to receive) actually appears later in the statement (as can be seen above), so perhaps Takuan was simply confused about the exact wording of text†††.

    Even though this particular quotation is not referring to tea utensils, it seems important to point out that the earliest recorded use of an ido-chawan [井戸茶碗] was when, during a memorial service for his recently-deceased master, Shukō took the bowl in which tea had been offered to the departed spirit and passed it around, with each of the participants drinking a little of the tea.

    Ido-chawan have high feet, meaning they were originally made as je-gi [제기 = 祭器]‡‡‡.  Drinking tea that had been offered to a spirit, from the ritual bowl, would have been seen as taking the spirit of that person into oneself.  This is a ritually powerful thought.  It may have been this tradition that Takuan was remembering when he recalled this quotation from (the commentary on) the Lotus Sūtra. __________ *In the list of shí-rúsh [十如是], or the ten tathātā [तथाता], rúsh [如是] is often translated “suchnesses” or “thusnesses,” as I have done above (see footnotes 22 and 25 in Part 1 of this translation for additional information).  The phrase rúshì lì [如是力] is the fourth of the rúshì listed in the Buddha’s speech.  The ten rúshì characterize the ultimate reality of all dharmas.

†Tathātā [तथाता] means suchness or thusness (see the previously mentioned footnote 25, in Part 1, for a deeper explanation).  In this context (where we are discussing the tathātā of power), it would mean something like this power is the essence of power.

‡Śāriputra [शारिपुत्र] was one of the principal disciples of the Buddha -- indeed, he is usually considered to be the first of the Buddha’s two main disciples.  He frequently appears in Mahāyāna sūtras; and, as in this case, he occasionally assumes a role as the Buddha’s foil.  His name was transliterated as Shēlìfú [舍利弗] in the Chinese translations of those sūtras.

**The definitions of the ten tathātā were described in greater detail by the Soka Gakkai English Buddhist Dictionary Committee, and have been adapted here as follows:

    The first group of three tathātā describe the reality of life itself.

◦ Appearance (form): the attributes of everything that is discernible, such as color, shape, or behavior.

◦ Nature (nature): the inherent disposition or quality of a person or thing that cannot be discerned from the outward appearance.

◦ Entity (embodiment): the substance of life that permeates as well as integrates both appearance and nature.

    The next six tathātā explain the functions and workings of life.

◦ Power (potency): life's potential energy.

◦ Influence (function): the activity produced when life's inherent power or potential energy is activated.

◦ Internal Cause (primary cause, causal factor): the potential cause in life that produces an effect of the same quality as itself, i.e.,good, evil, or neutral.

◦ Relation (secondary Cause): the relationship of secondary, indirect causes to the internal cause. Secondary causes are various conditions, both internal and external, that help the internal cause produce an effect.

◦ Latent Effect (effect): the dormant effect produced in life when an internal cause is activated through its related conditions.

◦ Manifest Effect (recompense): the tangible, perceivable effect that emerges in time as an expression of a dormant effect and therefore of a potential cause, again through its related conditions.

◦ Consistency from Beginning to End (complete fundamental whole): the unifying factor among the ten tathātā. It indicates that all of the other nine tathātā (from Appearance to Manifest Effect) are consistently interrelated. All nine tathātā thus harmoniously express the same condition of existence at any given moment.

    The causal relationships between the ten tathātā are illustrated in the following chart (by Ano-User - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=36965100):

    For additional information, please refer to the Wikipedia article intended Ten Suchnesses.  The URL for that article is:

cf., https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_suchnesses

††Lì [力] (chikara in Japanese) can be understood to mean both strength and power.  Either word could be used to make an appropriate translation -- and I have alternated between them in these notes.

‡‡Or, perhaps, this represented an attempt to summarize the relevant points in the commentary?  Since this text passed through several hands between Takuan Sōhō and ourselves in the present, it is difficult to deduce how and when these changes were made -- as well as the motive (if any, other than ignorance or a lack of readability in the manuscript) behind the modifications.

***The Japanese commentators appear to have believed that the phrase lì shì kān-rèn shàn-qì [力是堪任善器] is actually found either in the Lotus Sūtra itself, or in the commentary, but this is not true.

    The entire text of Dào Wēirù’s explanation of the meaning of the phrase rúshì lì [如是力] in the Fǎhuá-jīng rùshū actually reads (the phrase that morphed into Takuan’s quote has been highlighted with boldface):

如是力。

初約心法釋力者。堪任力用也。如王之力士有千萬技能。病故不能。謂之無。病差還有此用。心亦如是。具有一切諸功力故。以煩惱病故。不能運動。如實觀之。心見一切十法界力也。二約眾生法。釋力亦四。初四趣力者。有登刀上劒。吞銅噉鐵。強者伏弱。牽車挽重。皆是惡力也。二人天堪任善器受樂。為人天力也。三二乘能動能出。堪任道器。擇滅無繫為力也。四菩薩亦四。初小乘三藏菩薩。以生滅四弘為力。二大乘通菩薩。以無生四弘為力。三別菩薩。以無量四弘為力。四圓頓菩薩與佛。以無作四弘。初發菩提心。即超二乘上。名為菩薩佛力也。三約佛法者。佛非力非不力。而名為力。即指究竟菩提道心。慈善根力等。故經云。又於其上張設幰蓋。亦復如前。三諦說之。

    An explanation of this passage would have been far beyond my abilities, so I turned to Ahn Pilseop, a Professor at the Institute of Indian Studies and Buddhist Studies at the Dongguk University [동국대학교, 東國大學校] in Seoul, for help with the translation.  However, I cannot stress too highly that any mistakes or other errors are, of course, entirely my responsibility.  (Dr. Ahn was brought to an amused state of astonishment over the gross over-simplification of many of the definitions proposeded in the footnotes -- but, as he finally said, after considering the whole, this is a blog on chanoyu, not one devoted to the elucidation of the fine points of Buddhism, so the footnotes will suffice in that context.)

    The translation will be indicated with boldface, while additional comments and explanations have been interspersed, where appropriate, using ordinary typeface.

    Again, this translation is intended for the readers of this blog (who generally do not seem to have an extensive knowledge of, or interest in, Buddhism or Buddhist theory).  It is, therefore, highly simplified -- and should not be taken as a definitive scholarly interpretation of Dào Wēirù’s commentary. 

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[Commentary on] the Suchness of Powerᵃ.

Chapter 1.  This chapter describes Power (lì [力])ᵇ that is not limited to any specific being.  That is, it enunciates what can be considered the common rules that are applicable to all beings -- it presents a general theory of the meaning of rúshì lì [如是力], the Suchness of Power.

     First, Power is interpreted as a function of consciousnessᶜ.  It is the capacity to handle the effects of Power.  It is like a subject of a kingᵈ who has many abilities; but if he is now unable to use those abilities due to illness, he can yet regain those functions after recovering from the illness.  The mind is like this:  even though it has all kinds of abilities, it cannot function because of the disease of moral afflictionᵉ.  But if you truly look at this as it is, your mind will be able to look at all objects again.

Chapter 2.  This chapter deals with Power that is limited to Specific Beings, according to their four categories -- those born to evil destinies, those born as Human Beings and Heavenly Beings, and those born to life as Bodhisattvas and Buddhas.

    Second, Power is interpreted as a function possessed by all living beingsᶠ, of which there are also four kindsᵍ.

Chapter 2.1:  the Power of the four evil destinies.

    1) the Power of the four evil types of living beingsʰ:

- climbing upon the blade of a swordⁱ;

- drinking copper and eating ironʲ;

- the strong subjugates the weakᵏ;

- dragging a cart, and lifting heavy thingsˡ.

    All of these are evil powers.

Chapter 2.2:  the Power of Humans and Heavenly Beings. 

    2) Humans and Heavenly Beings can handle the right attitude and mindset, and obtain satisfaction as a resultᵐ.  This is the Power of Humans and the Heavenly Beings.

Chapter 2.3:  the Power of the Two Vehicles (śrāvakas and pratyekabuddha)ⁿ.

    3) The Two Vehicles are able to act and produce.  They have the capacity to become Vessels of the Wayᵒ.  They have the ability to eliminate desires and achieve perfection through the mind and will.

Chapter 2.4:  the Power of the Bodhisattvas.

    4) There are four types of Bodhisattvas:

- first are the Lesser Vehicle's Bodhisattvas of the Tripiṭaka, [who] use the four vows to transcend life and death as [their] Power;

- second, the Greater Vehicle's Bodhisattvas [who] use the four vows to negate birth as [their] Power;

- thirdly, the Bodhisattvas of discrimination, [who] use the four vows to manifest unquantifiability as [their] Power;

- [and] fourth, the Bodhisattvas of sudden enlightenment, together with the Buddha, [who] use the four vows of uncreation, from the moment of generating the Bodhi mind, to transcend the two vehicles, which is called the Power of the Bodhisattvas and the Buddha.

    The three aspects of the Buddha-Dharma:  the Buddha is neither powerful, nor  not powerful, and this is called [his] Power.

Chapter 3:  the Power of the Buddha-Dharmaᵖ.

    Third, this is the realm of Buddha-Dharma.  Buddha is neither Power nor non-Power.  These are just linguistic conceptualizations𐞥 of Power.  It is the aspiration for enlightenmentʳ of the highest conception of the Buddha as the absoluteˢ.  It is the compassionate mind and most excellent Power of the Buddha.

    This is why the scripture says:  “pitch a tent and put an umbrella over the tentᵗ.”  It is just the same as before.  It speaks of the Threefold Truthᵘ that reveal the reality of all existence. ___________ ᵃRúshì lì [如是力], which Dào Wēirù uses as a sort of title for this expository section of his commentary, is a quotation of the Buddha’s words in the Kumārajīva [कुमारजीव] translation of the Lotus Sūtra.  In this section Dào Wēirù discusses the various types of Power (lì [力]) as it is found through the six realms or states of existence (hell, hungry ghosts, animals, asuras [spirits or demons], human beings, and the entities [often termed gods] that populate the eighteen heavens of form, and four heavens of formlessness).

    The translation of this title as the Suchness of Power is based on the  Wikipedia article Ten Suchnesses that was cited above under sub-note **.

ᵇThe word Power must be understood as referring to potency (as per the Soka Gakkai English Buddhist Dictionary Committee’s definition, as quoted under sub-note **, above).  Dr. Ahn also repeatedly stressed this -- that it is not really a question of physical might in the usual sense of the word, but the capacity to act and react.  This is why the word Power has been capitalized throughout this section and its footnotes -- to distinguish it from the ordinary meaning of the word, as a correlate of strength and might.

ᶜXīnfǎ [心法] (shin-bō) literally means the dharma of the mind, and refers to consciousness.  This contrasts the mind itself (xīnwáng [心王], shin-ō, sometimes called the master of the mind) with the objects of (or perceived by) the mind (xīn-suǒyǒu-fǎ [心所有法], shin-sho-u-hō, which means “all dharmas depend on mind” or “all phenomena depend on mind”; this is also called xīnshǔ [心數] shin-shu).

ᵈAlluding to the above-named “King of the Mind” (xīnwáng [心王], shin-ō).

ᵉFánnǎo-bìng [煩惱病] (bonnō-byō) means the disease of the (worldly) passions, also translated as the disease of (moral) affliction.

ᶠZhòngshēng-fǎ [衆生法] (shushō-hō) means the inherent nature, or law, of sentient beings.

ᵍThe four states are:  the sì-qù [四趣] (shi-shu), which refers collectively to the four evil destinies (see the next sub-note); rén-tiān [人天] (nin-den), humans and heavenly beings; èr-chéng [二乘] (), the Two Vehicles; and púsà-fó [菩薩佛] (bosatsu-hotoke), Bodhisattvas and Buddhas.  The powers of each will be described in turn.

    It is important to understand that these four states can refer to rebirth in a specific physical place or situation; to rebirth as a specific creature or entity; or to rebirth in the thrall of a particular state of mind (in other words, the experience of the conditions of that destiny are all “within one’s mind”).

ʰSì-qù [四趣] (shi-shu), the four evil destinations, or modes of existence (also, sì-èqù [四惡趣], shi-akushu), into which one can be reborn:  dìyù-qù [地獄] (jigoku), devils, the denizens of hell; èguǐ-qù [餓鬼] (gaki-shu), hungry ghosts; chùsheng [畜生] (chikushō), animals; and, āxiūluó [阿修羅] (ashura) asuras [spirits or demons].

ⁱRebirth as a denizen of Hell means that the individual is incarcerated in a prison deep within the bowels of the earth where they are subjected to all kinds of torture as a result of their extensive evil activities in their prior life (deliberate and malicious taking of life, deliberately and maliciously taking what was not given, deliberately and maliciously indulging in sensual misconduct, false speech, divisive speech, abusive speech, indulging in idle chatter; deliberate and malicious covetousness, bearing of ill will, and having wrong views formed of deliberate malice).

    This is symbolized in Dào Wēirù’s commentary by the image of, while naked, attempting to climb a mountain of sword-blades.

ʲRebirth as a Hungry Ghost means the individual is consigned to an unpleasant realm of existence as retribution for a life of unchecked desire, wherein one suffers continuously from unrelenting and insatiable hunger.

    This greed is symbolized by drinking molten copper and eating red-hot balls of iron.

ᵏRebirth as an Animal is the destiny for one who committed a predominance of mistaken activities in oneʼs prior lifetime, due mostly to foolishness or ignorance. 

    The punishment is to live under the rule of animal survival instincts, where the strong try to subjugate and prey upon the weak, while being subjugated and preyed upon by those stronger than them.

ˡRebirth as an Asura is the destiny of one who, as a person, was continually inclined toward anger, jealous, belligerence, combativeness and self-indulgence -- all of which should be understood as psychological traits.

    Asuras are plagued by envy and anger; they are condemned to perpetual combat and unwinnable conflict with the gods -- which is symbolized here by being condemned to eternally dragging of a huge cart, or being forced to lift up impossibly heavy objects incessantly.

ᵐRén-tiān kān rèn shàn qì shòu lè [人天堪任善器受樂] is, as has been mentioned before, the source from which Takuan Soho’s argument flows.

    The expression shàn qì [善器] (zen-ki) means a good instrument, an excellent tool, a good weapon; a virtuous implement -- but it refers to the state of those beings (rather than being a judgement call of good versus not good).

    Kān-rèn [堪任] (makase ni taeru [任せに堪える]:  [I] can accept it, [I] am equal to the challenge) refers to being capable of (doing something); suitable for; competent; able to undertake (a task); fit to be; and fit to hold.  In other words, the person or thing can be capable of undertaking something.  The construction emphasizes suitability and competence for a particular task or role.(quality of must have).

    Shòu-lè [受樂] (raku wo ukeru [樂を受ける]) means to receive joy, experience happiness, be pleased -- in other words, feeling contentment.  Though here it refers to this feeling as a result of doing things for others (rather than gratifying the self).

    In Takuan’s context (where we are talking about Zen-tea utensils), the sum of these words does not refer to something like a value judgment.  They do not describe objects that were judged and decided upon in the beginning (when the person purchased them, or they entered his collection) -- in other words, it is not speaking about things of worldly value.  Rather, what is important is the mind that strives to give comfort and satisfaction to others through the use of these things. 

    So the chawan that is used expresses the mind that the host wants to give his guest the best bowl of tea that he possibly can.  This desire is what determines the “value” of that chawan, that it is good (zen [善]). It is not a matter of choice or discrimination or discernment (in other words, the idea that this is good or that is bad).  The good bowl represents the capabilities that the host possesses.  A large bowl means that the person has the ability to understand and embrace other beings.  It is not an inherent quality of the object, of its being intrinsically good or bad.  It is wholly a matter of the mind of the person who is serving tea, who wants to offer his guest the best bowl of tea that he possibly can offer.  This is why Rikyū said that the focus of chanoyu in the small room must be wholly on the tea that the host serves to his guests.

    In the Nampō roku, furthermore, Rikyū said “concerning the chanoyu of the small room, being in [complete] accordance with the Laws of the Buddha, it is primarily a matter of disciplining [oneself] in order to attain salvation.  A splendid residence, delicate repasts -- these pleasures are matters of the world.  If the house does not leak, if the meal prevents one from suffering the pangs of hunger, then these things are appropriate.  This is what the Buddha taught; this is the real point behind [the practice of] chanoyu.

    “Water is carried, firewood is fetched; the hot water is boiled, tea is prepared.  It is offered to the Buddha; it is also given to the people; and we drink it ourselves, too.

    “Flowers are stood [in a vase]; incense is burned.  [One must] study every deed of the Buddhas and the Patriarchs -- as a precedent for one’s own actions.”

    The host’s only purpose is to serve as perfect a bowl of tea to his guests as his facilities allow, and in doing so, give them a feeling of contentment.  This is in perfect accord with the teaching embodied in the words rén-tiān kān rèn shàn qì shòu lè [人天堪任善器受樂].

ⁿThe Two Vehicles (èr-chéng [二乘], ni-jō) are the śrāvakas [श्रावक] (“the listeners,” that is, disciples; originally the term referred to the direct disciples of the Buddha -- shēng-wén [聲聞], shōmon), and the pratyekabuddha [प्रत्येकबुद्ध] (“the rendered one,” self-realizers -- yuán-jué [緣覺], engaku; the name is also rendered bìzhī-fó [辟支佛], byakushibutsu).

    The śrāvakas are brought to enlightenment by listening to, and then practicing, the Buddha’s teachings; while the pratyekabuddha are able to attain enlightenment on their own, without a teacher -- but (importantly to this designation) do not thereafter attempt to lead others to liberation.

ᵒDào-qì [道器] (dō-ki) means a vessel of the Way.  In other words, a person capable of attaining enlightenment.  A vessel of religion, the capacity for Buddhism.

ᵖFó-fǎ [佛法] (buppō) means the Buddhaʼs teachings.  Traditionally, there are said to be eighty-four thousand types of doctrine.  The term also refers to the principles underlying these teachings, the truth attained by the Buddha, its embodiment in his being -- i.e., Buddhism.

    It also refers to the Power of Buddhism (fó-fǎ lì [佛法力], buppō no chikara), though for us, this is something in our future, not in the present.

𐞥Ér míng wéi lì [而名為力] more literally means “and named as Power.”  Ming [名] refers to the conceptualization of a thought, hence Dr. Ahn’s translation.

ʳDào-xīn [道心] (dō-shin) means the aspiration to attain the Way, the aspiration for enlightenment.  The mind which is bent on the right way, which seeks enlightenment.

ˢJiūjìng pútí [究竟菩提] means the ultimate, final, or precise Bodhi, implying a searching or a questioning of the nature of enlightenment --  in absolute terms, how can we truly attain enlightenment?

ᵗThis image of setting up an umbrella over a tent expresses the desire to protect and save all living beings.  It envisions a sort of double protection.

ᵘThe Threefold Truth, or sān dì [三諦] (san-tai) is an explanation of the three aspects or truths of reality:

1) kōng dì [空諦] (kū-tai), the ‘truth of emptiness,’ i.e. that all existences are empty and nonsubstantial in essence.  By kōng [空] (śūnya [शून्य]) is meant that things causally produced are in their essential nature unreal (or immaterial), shí kōng wú [實空無] (absolute emptiness);

2) jiǎ dì [假諦] (ke-tai), the ‘truth of nominal existence,’ i.e. that all phenomena are temporary manifestations produced by causes and conditions and only exist by their nominal designation jiǎ [假].  Though things are unreal in their essential nature, their derived essence constitutes a kind of reality;

3) zhōng dì [中諦] (chū-tai), the ‘truth of the mean,’ i.e. that the absolute reality of all existences cannot be explained in either negative or affirmative terms.  The absence of inherent existence (śūnyatā [शून्यता]) and the rejection of both eternalism and nihilism.  It's a view that finds the truth or middle way (zhōng [中]) between these extremes; both are one, being of the one reality (rú [如]).

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†††With respect to the modern interpretations of the phrase chikara ha kore taetaru ukuru no zen-ki [力是堪受善器], a Japanese commentator suggests:  “effort increases the capacity of the vessels of those who perform good [deeds]”  -- which only seems to veer off in a new direction, rather than coming closer to the meaning of the original.

    The Korean translation, however, suggests “the power of wisdom is the ability to use good vessels” (even though “power” or “strength” is the subject of the original sentence, and it says nothing about “wisdom” at all).

    What did become clear to me, after reading a number of the comments made by contemporary bloggers, is that everyone seems to have been as nonplussed as I was over this quotation (so I was doubly thankful that Dr. Ahn agreed to take quite a bit of time out of his very busy schedule to help me).

‡‡‡Je-gi [제기 = 祭器] are ritual objects, proscribed from mundane use.  As such, they are viewed as being imbued with a certain energy, since they are used when making offerings to the Ancestors.  Thus the ido-chawan itself may have been thought of as charging the tea with supernatural energy.  For people to then drink the tea was truly entering into a communion with the other world.  (Of course this idea would have been lost when the Japanese just began using ido-chawan as if they were ordinary tea bowls.)

    Shukō is only mentioned as having used his ido-chawan in the setting of a memorial service, so it is possible that he was still thinking of it as a je-gi.  On ordinary occasions, it is said that Shukō served tea in either his hai-katsugi temmoku-chawan or in his Shukō-seiji bowl.

³⁸Gekon [下根]* is a Buddhist term that means a person of inferior capacity, a person who is incapable of receiving (or understanding) the teachings of the Buddha. __________ *When pronounced shita-ne [下根] the word means roots growing downward -- that is, the roots that extend downward (to anchor the plant into the ground, like the taproot).  It can also be used to mean rooting cuttings (in Chinese).  These seems to have been the original meanings, and the derived Buddhist nuance would have come from the observation that these roots advance downwards toward the dark, rather than striving upwards toward the Light of the Buddha's Teachings.  Gekon, the Buddhist term, therefore, means someone who does not seek, or is not receptive to, the Buddha's teachings, whether through blindness, willful ignorance, or because such is his inherent nature.

³⁹Zen-ki wo ukubeshi [善器を受くべし] while I put a literal interpretation in the translation, it has been suggested that “receiving a good vessel” can also be understood to mean accumulating good karma for your next life.

⁴⁰This book is more formally called the Kǒngzǐ jiāyǔ [孔子家語].  In English, it is known either as the School Sayings of Confucius*, or the Family Sayings of Confucius (which is a more literal representation of the Chinese title).

   This collection of episodes and supposed transcripts is considered to be a sort of supplement to the Lúnyǔ zhāng-jù [論語章句] (the Analects [of Confucius]).  It consists of a compendium of stories and other incidents that were supposedly passed down over the centuries within the different branches of the Kǒng† family.  These were supposedly collected and edited by his descendant Kong Anguo [孔安國; c. 156 BC ~ c. 74 BC].

    The surviving collection consists of 10 volumes‡. __________ *The reference is to the fact that this document is framed as being formalized transcripts of discussions between Confucius and his disciples (hence the image of the school room).

    Confucius (Kǒngzǐ [孔子]) lived from c. 551 ~ c. 479, so this collection was compiled 5 or 6 generations after his passing.

†Kǒng [孔] is the actual family name that was Latinized as “Confucius.”

‡Classical references state that the collection numbered 27 volumes, but how this discrepancy can be explained is unclear (since the classical citations and references all seem to be discoverable in the modern version).

    Many scholars considered the entire document to be spurious, but recent archaeological evidence appears to support the authenticity of at least some of the things mentioned in the books (which are also corroborated by other, authentic sources).

⁴¹From the book entitled Míng-xīn bǎo jiàn [明心寶鑒]*.

    These three axioms are found in the 51st section of this book, in the second fascicle† “On language‡.”

yǔ hǎo-rén tóng háng, rú wù lù zhōng-háng, suī bù-shī yī, shí-shí zīrùn

[與好人同行，如霧露中行，雖不濕衣，時時滋潤];

yǔ wúshí-rén tóng háng, rú cè zhōng-zuò, suī bù-wū yī, shí-shí wén-chòu

[與無識人同行，如廁中坐，雖不污衣，時時聞臭];

yǔ è-rén tóng háng, rú dāojiàn zhōng-háng, suī bù-shāng rén shí-shí jīngkǒng

[與惡人同行，如刀劍中行，雖不傷人，時時驚恐].

    The translations are as quoted above. __________ *Míng-xīn bǎo jiàn [明心寶鑒] means “Reflections of [Confucius'] Cherished Thoughts.”

    This was the tenth book of the Kǒngzǐ jiāyǔ [孔子家語] (when the collection was divided into 27 books).

†Piān [篇] means a bound set of bamboo slips (on which the text is written), the oldest form of what we would call a book.  The text was either rolled up (like a horizontal scroll) or folded into pages (like a book).

    This kind of set of bamboo or wooden slips is what the word “fascicle” (fasciculus) originally meant.

‡Míng-xīn bǎo jiàn, dì wǔshíyī-jiē, yányǔ-piān èr [第五十一節、言語篇二]).

⁴²Karisome ni mo akudō ni ha yorubekarazu [苛且にも惡道には由べからず]:  karisome [苛且]* means fleeting, temporarily, even for a moment; akudō [惡道], literally an evil path, means to undertake a wrong or evil course of action; while, yorubekarazu [由べからず] means not have recourse to (an evil path, even temporarily). ___________ *Karisome ni is usually be written karisome ni [仮初めに] today -- with the meaning given above.

⁴³Among the six realms of existence*, zen-sho [善所] refers to the two realms of human beings and heavenly beings†, where sentient beings are reborn as a result of their good deeds. ___________ *The six realms (liù-qù, roku-shu [六趣]), also called the six paths (liù-dào, roku-dō [六道]), refer to the path of hell (dìyù-dào, jigoku-dō [地獄道]), the path of hungry ghosts (èguǐ-dào, gaki-dō [餓鬼道]), the path of animals (chùsheng-dào, chikushō-dō [畜生道]), the path of asuras [ásura [असु], spirits or demons] (āxiūluó-dào, ashura-dō [阿修羅道]), the path of human beings (rénjiān-dào, ningen-dō [人間道]), and the path of heaven (tiān-dào, ten-dō [天道], the eighteen heavens of form, and four heavens of formlessness).

†The first refers to this world, since the only path to achieving Buddhahood is by being born as a human being.  The second refers to the Pure Land (gokuraku-jōdo [極樂淨土], or goshō-zensho [後生善處]) of the Lotus Sūtra, Amitābha’s Paradise.

⁴⁴Gen-se ni ha ōja-no-rōgoku wo manegare [現世には王者之牢獄をまぬがれ].  

    Gen-se ni ha [現世には] means in this world, in this present life.

    Ōja-no-rōgoku [王者之牢獄] means the prison of the king*.

    In Japanese, the verb manugareru [免れる] means things like to release, to liberate, to dismiss, to discharge (from service), with its primary nuance suggesting to fire or sack (from a job).  In Chinese, however, miǎn [免] means to avoid, to escape, to evade, to release, to set free, to excuse from, to exempt, and this seems to be closer to the idea that Takuan is intending to convey here.

    It actually seems that Takuan must have had a specific classical Chinese reference in mind.  But if that was the case, it has not been identified -- neither by the Edo period commentators, nor by the author of this translation. ___________ *The construction of the phrase ōja-no-rōgoku [王者之牢獄] (which would be wángzhě-zhī-láoyù in Chinese) is highly unusual for Japanese: the fact that it is written with the Chinese genitive marker zhī [之] (which is equivalent to the Japanese genitive particle no [の], though rather rare in Chinese) suggests that Takuan was thinking of a specific classical reference -- because, in addition to the issue with the grammar, it is important to remember that the Japanese Emperor was not a “king.”

⁴⁵San-to no mon-ko wo tozashi [三途之門戶を杜し].

    Again, Takuan must be thinking of something like sān-tú zhī ménhù dù [三途之門戶杜], which would be another (unidentified) classical reference (most likely from the Buddhist scriptures).

    San-to [三途] is a Buddhist term that means the three paths.  It refers specifically to the three unfortunate states (sān è-qù, san aku-shu [三惡趣]) into which one can be reborn -- namely the denizens of hell (dìyù, jigoku [地獄]), hungry ghosts (èguǐ, gaki [餓鬼]), and animals (chùsheng, chikushō [畜生]).

    San-to no mon-ko [三途之門戶] means the gateways to the three paths.     

    The kanji read above as tozashi is usually pronounced to or mori [杜], and in Japanese refers to the sacred grove on the grounds of certain Shintō shrines.  This has caused a degree of confusion among certain commentators.  In Chinese, however, while the principal meaning of dù [杜] is the name of a native variety of pear (Pyrus betulifolia), its secondary meaning is to stop, prevent, block, and that is the meaning that would apply here.  Tozasu [閉ざす] is the Japanese word that conveys the same meaning -- close, shut, jam, block, occlude, obstruct, close up, impede, and obturate.

    So, Takuan is saying that making the effort to cultivate the practice of Zen-tea will not only free one from potential calamity* in this life, but also guarantee that one will be reborn in one of the better conditions† in the next. ___________ *Apparently Takuan’s argument is that when one is focused on Zen-tea utensils, this releases one from the acquisitiveness and covetousness that are engendered by a desire to acquire precious tea utensils.  Cf. his recitation of the proverb xiǎo-rén huái huò  shì zāi-hài zhào [小人懷貨 適災害召] (meaning “the small man carries his treasure in his bosom, which tends to invite catastrophe”) in Part 1.

†Being reborn as an asura (āxiūluó, ashura [阿修羅]) or human being (rénjiān, ningen [人間]), or in one of the 22 heavens, gives one the chance of attaining enlightenment, thereby escaping from the cycle of saṃsāra and entering into eternal nirvāṇa.

⁴⁶Shō-ten toku-dō utagai-arumaji [升天得道疑ひあるまじ].

    Shēngtiān [升天]* literally means to ascend into Heaven; to rise up into the sky.

    Toku-dō [得道] (dédào) is a Buddhist term that means to attain the Way, to become enlightened, to attain salvation.

    Utagai-arumaji [疑ひあるまじ]:  utagai [疑い] means things like uncertainty, to be distrustful, to be in doubt; arumaji [有まじ] means (something) cannot be, (something) should not be, (something) is impossible.

    This, then, is saying that there is no doubt that, at the moment of your death, you will ascend to Heaven and attain salvation; it is a fact that one will be taken up to Heaven and attain perfect enlightenment (in other words, enter nirvāṇa). __________ *The word is actually written shōten [昇天] in Japanese, so Takuan is clearly thinking of a Chinese source.

⁴⁷Kaku no gotoku shōju-shitaru wo, ten-chi dō-itsu enshō shōjō no hōki to su [如是成就したるを、天地同一圓照淸淨の寶器とす].

    Here, too, in a sentence laden with superlatives (as he complements the Zen tea utensil), Takuan appears to be quoting a Chinese source, but it has not been identified.

    Kaku no gotoku shōjushitaru wo [如是成就したるを]:  kaku no gotoku [如是 = かくのごとく] means thus, like this, in this way; the verb shōju-suru [成就する] means to complete, to achieve, to fulfill, to accomplish; the suffix -shitaru [したる] means to do (for someone, or to accomplish certain ends); while the particle wo [を] indicates that the foregoing is the object of the previously described series of actions.

    Ten-ichi dō-itsu [天地同一] means concepts like Heaven and Earth are united, Heaven and Earth become one, the whole universe is united, and so on.

    Enshō shōjō no hōki to su [圓照淸淨の寶器とす]:  enshō [圓照] means a circle of brightness, in other words, perfect illumination; shōjō no hōki [清浄の宝器] means means treasured utensils (hōki [寶器]) that exhibit or demonstrate the essence of purity (shōjō [淸淨])*; to su [とす = と為] is a contraction of to suru [とする = と為る], which means things like to be, shall be, so it is.

◎ Many Japanese commentators express a sort of mystified consternation -- often bordering on frustration to the point of anger -- that, after dragging us through a morass of especially deep and (one might say) profoundly enigmatic antique references, Takuan fails to tell us exactly what kind of utensils he is recommending!  As one person wrote on his blog, “does he mean that anything is fine, as long as it is clean?  In that case, shouldn’t famous or expensive utensils also be fine [so long as they, too, are clean]†.”

    But this actually misses Takuan’s point -- because he has been describing not the utensils that someone uses, but the mind of the person who is practicing chanoyu as Zen-tea.  When the mind has been purified of the poisons that he described earlier, then that person will instinctively know which utensils “constitute” Zen-tea utensils.  So Takuan, far from wanting to construct a catalog that the ignorant can mindlessly imitate (and then proclaim to the world that their use of these things demonstrates that they are enlightened to the truths of Zen-tea), Takuan is urging us to go the extra mile, cultivate our samādhi, gain true insight (enlightenment), and then, if we “still” want to practice chanoyu, we will be drawn to things -- even treasured antiques -- that are pure expressions of our enlightenment. __________ *Please refer especially to footnotes 5 and 17 in part 1 for additional information on the ideas of shōjō [淸淨], purity, and shōjō no utsuwa [淸淨の器] pure utensils.

⁴⁸Ko-ō chin-gi hijō-no-kigan wo ba, nan no takara to ka semu [古甌陳器非常の奇玩をば、なんの寶とかせむ].

    Once again, Takuan has fallen into the practice of using Chinese expressions, but the source of this quotation (if that is what it is) is unknown.

    Gǔ-ōu [古甌] means old* tea bowls (ōu [甌] literally means a small bowl or, by extension, a tea cup, so Takuan is using what he believes would have been the Chinese term to name the chawan).

   Chén-qì [陳器] means antique† vessels (which would collectively refer to all of the other utensils that are used in the practice of chanoyu).

    Hijō-no-kigan [非常の奇玩]:  hijō [非常] means exceptionally; kigan [奇玩] means a rare and precious item, a rarity.

    Nan no takara to ka semu [なんの寶とかせむ]:  let us first dispose of the word takara [寶], which means a treasure, a precious thing; and by extension, to prize or treasure such an object.

    The construction nan[i] ka semu [何か為む] is an antique idiom that means something like “what are you looking for?” or “what do you hope to gain (by that)?”  At any rate, it is a form of rhetorical question that implies that nothing is to be gained (from that course of action), or, all will come to naught in the end.  So, in this case, the question becomes “what will come of treasuring such old bowls and antique vessels?” __________ *Especially in Chinese, there can be a nuance that the piece in question is out of date, worthless, or “dusty.”  The kind of odd and functionally useless objects that the Chinese describe as “curios.”

†Again, the nuance also includes a feeling of something being worn-out or useless.

==============================================

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❖ Appendix:  A Dissertation on the Nature of Zen Tea Utensils, from Takuan Sōhō’s Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄], Part I.

The Question of Zen Tea Utensils (Zen-cha-ki no koto [禪茶器ノ㕝]¹).

    Zen tea utensils should not be beautiful (bi-ki [美器]).  [They] should not be wonderful or rare (chin-ki [珍器])².  They should not be treasures (hō-ki [寶器]).  They should not be antiques (kyū-ki [舊器])³.  [They should, however, give a feeling of being] wholly tranquil⁴ and pure⁵, embodying the essence [of what each utensil is supposed to be]⁶.  With respect to the way that these very pure utensils are handled, this is what we mean by [the service of] tea as a manifestation of zen-ki [禪機]⁷.

    Consequently, when speaking of meibutsu, while these are tea utensils that are treasured⁸ by the whole world, they are [in fact] not worthy of [this] respect⁹. And why should [they] be!¹⁰  To sip a bowl of tea, a vessel with no value at all will more than suffice¹¹.  Why, then, should [these tea utensils] be hidden away in a storehouse¹² and turned into treasures?  Such [utensils] offer [us] no additional benefit on the Way¹³.  

    A proverb says “when a ‘small man’¹⁴ obtains a treasure, disaster naturally follows¹⁵.”  In Lǎozǐ [老子] it is [also written], “if precious and difficult-to-acquire goods [are not prized], the people will not become thieves¹⁶.”  For this reason, we should not deliberate over whether a [certain] utensil is “good” or “bad.”  “Good” or “bad,” we should absolutely refrain from both -- as [they are both] misguided!  [You] should look for and find utensils that actually demonstrate that [Zen] purity (shōjō [淸淨]), and which accord with [your] own heart¹⁷.

    To begin with, utensils that embody isshin [一心] are not things specially potted or cast by people¹⁸.  If [they] are completely natural¹⁹ -- like the yin and yang [of the] the sun and the moon²⁰, [like] the myriad of things that exist throughout the universe²¹, and the thousand tathātā [original natures] of the hundred realms [of Buddhist existence]²² -- they all are manifestations of the same kind of idea, brilliantly-clear as the light of the moon²³.  The Buddha’s heart is “empty, unclouded by desire, [and so able to clearly reflect all things like a mirror]²⁴.”  Yet clouds of worldly desire rise up spontaneously, so that the light of the tathātā²⁵ is obscured; and the taint discharged by the five polluted senses engenders unbridled lust²⁶, from which emanate the three poisons of greed [the sin of attachment], anger [the sin of hatred], and ignorance [the sin of confusion]²⁷.   When the purified essence has finally become corrupted, it becomes a vessel for the three poisons²⁸.  This is why all living beings in this world have been subsumed²⁹ by the defilements of the five impure conditions³⁰ since time immemorial, so that they fail to realize that the vessel [of their own mind] is defective³¹.  Since there has already been an accumulation of ignorance,  even if [we] boast about [our] goodness, true goodness is not present.

    And again, Lǎozǐ has said “when all under Heaven understand ‘beauty’ to be [what society declares is] beautiful, then evil has already arrived; [and when] ‘good’ is understood to mean [those things that society has determined to be] good, then [we] have already gone astray³².”

    To frame [this argument] metaphorically:  if a person has become thoroughly permeated³³ by the fragrance of an incense, he will be unable to notice that fragrance [if he were subsequently exposed to it].  In the same way, when [an ordinary person] undertakes anything [in his current state], he will already be on the wrong path³⁴.  Most certainly, if we hope to achieve Zen tea, [our] impure utensils³⁵ must be discarded, and replaced with those that are intrinsically pure³⁶.

________________________

¹The expression Zen-cha-ki [禪茶器] is used as a noun, meaning the utensils appropriate to, or which give off a feeling of, the extreme minimalism that was a hallmark of Takuan’s interpretation of this Zen-derived aesthetic.

    The kanji koto [㕝] is a nonstandard form of koto [事].  The use of this particular variant was especially common during the Japanese middle ages (perhaps because it essentially summarizes the way that the actual kanji is written by hand), but which has become exceedingly rare since.

    This is a complete translation of the fourth section or chapter of Takuan’s Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄].

²Chin-ki [珍器] can be interpreted to mean either a wonderful or a exceedingly rare utensil -- the way the term meibutsu [名物] was used during Jōō’s and Rikyū’s period (and on which the tea world was hyper-focused, especially during the first half-century of the Edo period).

³More accurately, kyū-ki [舊器] means “old utensils.”  

    Kyū [舊, usually written 旧 today] can simply mean “old” (for example, kyū-butsu [舊物], which can also be read furu-mono [舊物 = 古物], means both second-hand objects as well as antiques or curios).  The Edo period was when a decided taste for using old pieces for chanoyu arose, whether or not they were of sufficient quality to be considered “antiques.”  This contrasted markedly with the attitudes that prevailed during Jōō's day (when, for example, chawan that had begun to become stained with use were often discarded for that reason).

⁴Enkyo [圓虛] is composed of the kanji en [圓], which means round or circular (and, by extension, perfect), and kyo [虛], which means vacuous.  Thus the term can be interpreted as meaning “completely empty,” or “complete emptiness.”

    In the present context, this would seem to suggest an object that does not stir emotion, but, rather, is conductive to repose or induces a sense of tranquility.

    The Japanese scholar Katano Suzue [片野鈴枝; born, 1948; she also uses the name Jikei 慈啓 in Buddhist publications] equates enkyo [圓虛] to the Japanese word emman [円満 = 圓滿], which means things like affability, amiability, geniality.  Though these terms seem more worldly-societal than expressive of the Zen idea.

⁵Shōjō [淸淨] is a Buddhist term that means the complete absence of worldly passions (bon-nō [煩惱]), egotistical thinking and selfish desires (ji-yoku [私慾]), and the vices (zai-aku [罪悪]).  It is thus more expansive than what we usually think of when we hear the words cleanliness or purity.

    The utensils used for Zen tea, therefore, should be objects that exemplify these sorts of attributes:  in addition to being completely clean, they should also be exceedingly simple, purely utilitarian (rather than in any way decorative), and not the sort of pieces that would elicit or arouse any sort of covetousness or desire.

⁶Isshin [一心] means one mind.  In the Buddhist context, we should not think of this in terms of the mathematical concept of numbers (1, 2, 3).  Rather, it represents the absolute whole.  In other words, isshin can be thought of as the absolute truth that is the basis of all things.

    In the earliest Buddhist texts, isshin did not have this meaning; but as the teachings of Mahāyāna Buddhism began to develop their unique characteristics, it began to appear frequently in those texts.  There, it was used to mean the mind that exists at the root of all phenomena, or the true mind and consciousness that is inherent in all living beings.  The Avataṃsaka Sūtra states that “the world of phenomena is false, and it is the creation of one mind alone,” but later scholars and monks called the substance of this one mind the Buddha nature.  One mind means to unite the mind and to focus the mind on one object.  Therefore, it refers to calming the agitated mind, and is used to express the mental unity achieved when practicing zazen [坐禪] with one mind, or to express the single-mindedness of thinking about Amida Buddha and not thinking of any other Buddhas when reciting the nembutsu [念佛] (Namu Amida-butsu [南無阿彌陀佛]).

   With respect to tea utensils, isshin no utsuwa [一心の器] would refer to utensils that embody the purified essence of what each is supposed to be:  a chawan that is a bowl from which the tea can be drunk easily and comfortably; a chaire that is a vessel that will protect the matcha from the air, while also allowing it to be dispensed into the chawan easily -- and so forth. __________ *There are three basic schools of thought in Buddhism.  Explained simplistically, they are:

◦ Theravāda [Pāli: थेरवाद] (Sthaviravāda [स्थविरवाद] in Sanskrit) is the earlier approach (the name means “the teachings of the elders,” and refers to the pure or original teachings of the Buddha).  It places emphasis on the individual attainment of Enlightenment using Buddhist meditation.  The followers of Therāvada Buddhism aim to become an arhat, which in Sanskrit means “one who has gained insight into the true nature of existence.”  There is no formal worship.

◦ Vajrayāna [वज्रयान] is also known as Mantrayāna (“Mantra Vehicle”), Guhyamantrayāna (“Secret Mantra Vehicle”), Tantrayāna (“Tantra Vehicle”), as well as Tantric Buddhism, and Esoteric Buddhism.  This school emphasizes esoteric practices and rituals, the goal of which is rapid spiritual awakening.

◦ In contrast with the “for oneself” approach of Theravāda, followers of Mahāyāna [महायान] aspire to not only liberate themselves from suffering, but also help lead others toward liberation and enlightenment.  That seems to be why this approach was called “the Greater Vehicle” (the meaning of Mahāyāna).  As a result, in addition to the main scriptures and teachings of early Buddhism, the Mahayana School also recognizes various doctrines and texts that are not accepted by Theravāda Buddhists as original.  These include the Mahāyāna sūtras, with their emphasis on the bodhisattva path and Prajñāpāramitā [प्रज्ञापारमिता] (“the Perfection of Wisdom” or “Transcendental Knowledge”).

    Chán [禪] (Zen), which takes the Bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara [अवलोकितस्वर] (Kannon [觀音]) as its model, arose from within the Mahāyāna tradition:  the Indian monk Bodhidharma, who brought the practices and teachings that developed into Chán from India, is said to be a reincarnation of Avalokiteśvara.

⁷Zen-ki [禪機] means the actions that come from being performed in the state of Zen egolessness or mindlessness.  The word is most often used to describe the various shouts (such as Linchi’s* famous shout of hè [喝]†), gestures (such as when Jùzhī [俱胝]‡ held up a finger), and (often vigorous) actions (such as punching, slapping, pushing, hitting with a keisaku [警策]**, and so forth)††, displayed by Zen masters. __________ *Línjì Yìxuán [臨濟義玄; ? ~ 866], Rinzai Gigen in Japanese.

†Hè [喝] is essentially an onomatopoeia for the sound of a wordless shout (rather like crying out Ha! when surprised or startled).  Its meaning is, therefore, “to shout.”

   This word is pronounced katsu [喝] in Japanese (the kanji is also a little different) -- which is admittedly less an imitation of a shout-sound.

‡Little is known about this monk (including his actual name -- the moniker Jùzhī or Gutei comes from a certain mantra that he liked to recite, quoted below).

    Other than the fact that he liked to recite the Japanese version of the mantra of Cundī (a female Indian Buddhist deity): “na-mu sō-ta-nan san-myō-san-bu-da gu-tei-nan tachi-dechi-ta on sechi-rei shu-rei shun-tei sha-ba-ka” [なむ そうたなん さんみょうさんぶだ ぐていなん たちでちた おん せちれい しゅれい しゅんてい しゃばか:  derived from the Chinese ná-mó sà-duō-nán sān-miǎo-sān-pú-tuó jù-zhī-nán dá-zhí-tā ǎn zhé-lì zhǔ-lì zhǔn-tí suō-pó-hē = 南無 颯哆喃 三藐三菩陀 俱胝喃 怛姪他 唵 折隸 主隸 准提 娑婆訶], from the Saptakoṭibuddhamātṛ Cundī Dhāraṇī Sūtra, the only other fact recorded about him is that, whenever asked about the meaning of Zen, he always replied by holding up a finger (and, on one occasion, catching one of his attendants imitating the gesture, he is said to have cut off the boy’s finger, causing him to achieve enlightenment).

**Keisaku [警策] (which means “used to discipline”), also pronounced kyōsaku, is a sort of stick, approximately 91 cm long and somewhat flattened and broadened toward one end, that is used to stimulate the trapezius muscle (between the shoulder and the neck), during formal za-zen sessions.  If done properly, striking this area can help to clear the mind of thoughts (and disciples often bow to request being struck for just this reason).

   This object is called a xiāng-bǎn [香板] (“fragrant board”) in Chinese, which is why the word is often translated “(hitting with a) board.”

††Of these there are so many examples in collections such as the Bìyán-lù [碧巖集] (Hekigan-roku), and Wúmén-guān [無門關] (Mumon-kan) that it should be unnecessary to point to any specific examples.

⁸Yo ni shōgan no cha-ki [世に賞玩の茶器]:  

    Yo ni [世に] means (throughout the whole) world, that is, universally (admired).

    Shōgan [賞玩] means appreciated, admired, enjoyed, admired, savored, looked up to, and so forth; and in the case of tea utensils (cha-ki [茶器]), this is usually translated “treasured” -- since it is stronger than simple admiration.

    It is this “treasuring” that elicits Takuan's strongest condemnation. __________ *This word for “tea utensils” is more commonly found in Korea than in Japan (where cha-dōgu [茶道具] seems to have always been the preferred idiom).

⁹Tattobu ni tarazu [貴ふに足ず] literally means “not worthy of (the respect due to) something that is noble.”

¹⁰Nan-zo ya [何ぞや]:  nan-zo [何ぞ]* means “what?” or “why?,” while the final particle ya [や] makes this emphatic.

    This is a rhetorical question†. __________ *Literally, nan-zo [何ぞ] means “THAT thing.”  When used interrogatorily, then, it means “(what about) that thing?” (in other words, the question-form asks for what or why).

†Takuan considers doing reverence to a mere object, particularly an eating vessel (that, more often than now, was made for use by the common classes -- even the famed temmoku were produced either as cups for heated sake beverages served in ordinary drinking houses, or as containers for souvenir portions of famous varieties of miso that were used as dipping sauces for raw vegetables), is beyond absurd.

¹¹Aganai [贖ひ] means things like atonement (for a sin), expiation (of a crime), compensation (for a loss), indemnity (for damages), reparation (for an injury), satisfaction (for an insult), a ransom (for a captive), redemption (of one's life, or soul), and buying back (of anything).  Here, it appears that Takuan is using this word in an abjective sense, so that something humble (in other words, a chawan of no value) is taking the place of something noble (for example, a meibutsu chawan).

    That said, there is a scholarly argument that this word was miscopied when the text was put into its present form*.  Nevertheless, the point of the sentence is that, since a humble utensil will suffice, there is no reason why a priceless one should be required. __________ *The original was written entirely in kanji, in what Koreans believed was a sort of “academic Chinese.”  The Japanese version (where the kanji are qualified into Japanese syntax through the inclusion of kana) appeared at the beginning of the nineteenth century.

¹²Kuri [庫裏] means a temple kitchen; but also the quarters of the head monk of the temple*.  It is unclear why this word was chosen, since the context would seem to demand something like kura [倉], meaning a storehouse or treasure-house†. __________ *Wiktionary explains the matter in this way:  “[i]n smaller monasteries one room may serve as the priest or abbot’s office as well as [the] kitchen where offerings of food for the Buddha are prepared and meals served to priests.”

†Perhaps, in light of the Wiktionary explanation, the reference is to just this kind of facility, wherein there would also be some sort of cabinet in which the treasures of the temple are housed (even today there is usually some such area in the abbot's personal quarters -- since his presence will help to protect the objects cached there, while preventing unauthorized persons from accessing them).

¹³Michi ni oite sara ni eki-nashi  [道に於て更に益なし]:  because Takuan is talking about the use of chanoyu in furtherance of the Way, he rightly asks what additional benefit is to be gained by using priceless treasures when doing so -- because it is the act itself that will help us cultivate our samādhi.  Indeed, involving priceless utensils will only serve to distract us from our purpose (since, at the very least, our mind will be disturbed by the fear that we might damage them).

¹⁴In Chinese classical philosophy, xiǎo-rén [小人] (“small person”) denotes a small-minded person, a person without virtue who is incapable of doing anything for the benefit of anyone but himself.

¹⁵In Takuan’s text, this proverb is written in Chinese:

xiǎo-rén huái huò  shì zāi-hài zhào

[小人懷貨 適災害召]

which means “the small man carries his treasure in the bosom [of his robe], which tends to invite catastrophe.”

   The original commentary explains:

shō-jin ha toku-no-nai-mono, iyashii-mono wo sashite iu.  Toku no nai mono ga takara-mono wo motsu to, motte ita-yō ni saigai ga futte waku-mono da, kaette mi ni tsukanu to iu kakugen de aru.

[小人は德の無い者、賤しい者を指して云う。德の無い者が宝物を持つと、持っていたように災害が降って湧くものだ、却って身につかぬと云う格言である].

“The term shō-jin [小人]* refers to a person without virtue, someone of lowly character.

“This proverb says that if a person of little virtue acquires a treasure, disaster will come to him as a (necessary) consequence of their having gained possession of that treasure.  The proverb means that things that are gotten easily are lost just as easily.”

    That said, the actual source of this proverb has not been identified. __________ *The pronunciation shō-jin is the Japanese equivalent of the Chinese xiǎo-rén.  Reading the kanji-compound ko-bito [小人] would make the word mean pygmy, dwarf.

¹⁶Bù guì nándé-zhī-huò  shǐ mín bù-wéi dào [不貴難得之貨 使民不為盜], which more literally means “if there are no precious and difficult-to-obtain goods, the people will not commit theft.”

    In English, it is more commonly rendered as some variation of “if precious and rare goods are not prized, the people will not become thieves,” however, and I decided to use something similar since it may be familiar to some readers.

    This quotation comes from the third chapter of Lǎozǐ’s Dào-dé jīng [道德經].

¹⁷Jissō shōjō no utsuwa wo, jiko-no-kokoro ni motome-ubeshi [實相淸淨の器を、自己の心に索め得べし]:  jissō [實相] means actually, in actuality, in reality, in (its) real aspect; shōjō no utsuwa [淸淨の器] means utensils that exhibit or demonstrate Zen purity*; jiko-no-kokoro ni [自己の心に] means in your own mind, or in accordance with your own heart; and motome-ubeshi [索め得べし = 求め得べし] means to want and (so) search out (suitable utensils). __________ *Please refer to footnote 8, above.

¹⁸Somo-somo isshin no utsuwa ha, hito no saku-i tōchū-seru-mono ni arazu [抑一心の器は、人の作為陶鑄せる物にあらず].

    Somo-somo [抑] means in the first place, to begin with.  The expression is used when returning to a subject that has already been mentioned previously.    

    Isshin no utsuwa [一心の器] means a utensil that embodies the essence of what it is supposed to be (see footnote 9, above, if further clarification is needed).

    Hito no saku-i tōchūseru-mono [人の作為陶鑄せる物] means things (mono [物]) that are potted (tō-seru [陶せる]) or cast (chū-seru [鑄せる]) by the efforts of people or through human contrivance (hito no saku-i [人の作為]).

    Hito no saku-i suggests that Takuan is referring to utensils made by professional potters or metalworkers, specifically for use in chanoyu.  In other words, he was rejecting (arazu [あらず]) utensils made to fit some predetermined concept or shape that had been created by a specialist craftsman in consultation with a professional tea master.

    Takuan, coming from Korea*, was probably thinking of the original ido-chawan [井戸茶碗], which had been made for use as everyday bowls for the common people† by unrecognized potters:  these bowls had been adopted for use as chawan since the fifteenth century. __________ *According to Kanshū oshō-sama, Takuan Sōhō (who was the first generation of the Tatsubuchi family in Japan -- Tatsubuchi village, pronounced Yong-yeon [용연 = 龍淵] in Korean, located in front of the main gate of the Tongdo-sa [通度寺], is the ancestral home of that family, according to Kanshū, who stayed there for 6 months during the 1920s) wished to go to Japan as a missionary advocating for the true practice of Zen.  He, however, had no money to undertake such a trip.  In 1603 the potters with whom Furuta Sōshitsu had studied while he was overseeing the preparations for the invasion of China (in 1592), learning that the social unrest that had rocked Japan in the aftermath of Hideyoshi’s death had now quieted down (following Tokugawa Ieyasu's victory at Sekigahara in 1600), decided to go to Japan, taking the several chawan that Oribe had potted under their tutelage (which now had been glazed and fired) to him -- probably hoping to receive a generous honorarium from him for their troubles.  At any rate, the potters rented a boat with which to make the journey; and Takuan, hearing of this, asked if he might be allowed to make the crossing with them.  As there was room in the boat, no objection was made (indeed, they probably believed that the presence of the holy man would help to protect their voyage).  The ship (which was supposed to travel through the Strait of Shimonoseki, on its way to Ōsaka) was blown off-course, making landfall near the castle-town of Hagi.  While the local daimyō seems to have tried to facilitate the conveyance of the several chawan on to Sōshitsu in the capital, he pressed the potters to set up a kiln in the area of Hagi, to produce ido-style pottery there; and finding the local clay suitable, they decided to do so (apparently because they stood to gain much more money in Japan than if they returned to Korea, where they had been making pottery for the lower classes and temple use, according to the descendants of those potters whom I interviewed many years ago).

    The chawan that this group of potters brought to Japan came to be known as oku-gorai [奧高麗].  They were co-productions of Furuta Soshitsu and the Korean potters.  

†The bowls with high feet seem to have been made as je-gi [제기 = 祭器], that is, bowls in which offerings were made to the Ancestral Spirits (which was a ritual that even the poorest families observed religiously, several times each year, in pre-modern Korea).  Bowls with low feet (most of which were imported into Japan from the very end of the sixteenth century through the early decades of the Edo period) were made as everyday eating bowls.  But regardless, neither kind were made to be used as chawan for chanoyu, and that is why they appealed to Takuan (and became the model for his arguments).

¹⁹Ten-chi shizen [天地自然] means (objects in) their natural state, untouched by human intervention; natural.

²⁰In-yō jitsu-getsu [陰陽日月] means yin-yang, the sun and the moon.  The sun and the moon are the ultimate physical manifestations of yang and yin.

²¹Shin-ra ban-shō [森羅萬象]:  this is a Chinese expression, sēn-luó wàn-xiàng [森羅萬象].

    Sēn-luó [森羅] (shin-ra) means an all-covering forest (and so, everything on the earth); wàn-xiàng [萬象] (ban-shō) means the myriad of phenomena*.

   Especially in Buddhist writings, this idiom means “the myriad of things that exist throughout the universe.” __________ *While the kanji actually represents an elephant, since at least the seventh century (in China) this kanji has also been used to mean symbol, emblem, appearance, shape, and phenomenon.  It is this derived meaning that is to be understood here.

²²Hyakkai sen-nyo [百界千如] is another Buddhist phrase.

    Hyakkai [百界] means the hundred realms (or hundred worlds).

    Sen-nyo [千如] means the thousand tathātā [तथाता] (tathātā is often translated “suchness” or “thusness,” and refers to the nature of reality free from conceptual elaborations and the subject-object distinction; the ultimate nature of all things).  It names the nature of existence, the truth which applies to things.

    In the Tiāntái [天台] (Tendai) tradition, hyakkai sen-nyo is the object of Tendai contemplation.  In the Dan-toku mon [嘆徳文], Kakunyo shōnin [覺如上人; 1271 ~   1351] explains that hyakkai sen-nyo means the thousand kinds of tathātā (original nature):  each of the ten Dharma realms* mutually includes all of the other realms, thus giving one-hundred realms; and each of these hundred realms has ten kinds of tathātā, so there are a thousand kinds of tathātā.

◎ It is important to understand that all of these things -- yin and yang (as exemplified by the sun and the moon), the myriad of things, and the thousand kinds of tathātā -- all of these things are manifestations of isshin [一心] because, as they exist naturally, they are all manifestations of their essential natures.  And so, too, should be the utensils that are used for Zen tea.  This is the point that Takuan wishes to emphasize. ___________ *The realms of hell dwellers, hungry ghosts, beasts, asuras [असुर], humans, gods (devas [देव]), disciples (śrāvaka [श्रावक]), pratyekabuddhayāna [प्रत्येकबुद्धयान], bodhisattvas and Buddhas.

²³Ryōro* to tsuki no terasu ni hitoshii [亮朗と月の照らすに等しき], which means brilliantly-clear as the light of the moon.

    The problem that I would like to point out here is that, historically speaking, there does not seem to have been a word ryōro [亮朗] in Japanese -- unlike in Korean (and Chinese).  The same is true of many of the unusual idioms found in the Zen-cha roku. __________ *The pronunciation of this word is marked as ryau-rau [リヤウラウ], which would be transliterated as ryōrō today.

   On account of the large number of non-standard readings, the “appropriate” or “preferred” pronunciation (presumably at the time when the book was written) is indicated with katakana along the right side of the text.  (But the orthography shown would be more appropriate to the early Edo period -- or to the way a Korean would have tried to pronounce the words -- than to the early nineteenth century, when “Jakuan Sōtaku” was supposed to have written this treatise.)

    This is an important issue that none of the commentators has dared to touch on.

²⁴Xū-líng bù-mèi [虛靈不昧] (kyo-rei fumai)*:  in chapter 19 of the Dàxué zhāng-jù [大學章句] (Daigaku sho-ku; this book is known as the Great Learning, in English†), the Confucian scholar Zhu Xi [朱熹; 1130 ~ 1200]‡ explains the meaning of xū-líng bù-mèi in this way:

“the essence of the mind bestowed by heaven is empty, unclouded by desire, and able to clearly reflect all things like a mirror.”

    In practical terms, this means that the “superior man**” should exhibit the attributes of:  míng-míng dé [明明德], “display a clear and illustrious virtue;” qīn-mín [親民], “renew (the virtue of) the people by keeping in close contact with them,” and zhǐyú zhìshàn [止於至善] “maintain a state of highest personal excellence;” as well as eight admonitions:  gé-wù [格物], “investigate the nature of things (investigate the underlying principals);” zhì-zhī [致知], “pursue knowledge;” chéng-yì [誠意], “behave with sincerity;” zhèng-xīn [正心], “rectify one’s mind;” xiū-shēn [修身], “cultivate one’s self (i.e., one’s moral character);” qí-jiā [齊家], “control the family (bring about familial unison);” zhì-guó [治國], “administer the state (so the people will be peaceful and prosperous);” and, píng tiān-xià [平天下] “bring peace to all beneath heaven.”

   Here, Takuan is asserting that xū-líng bù-mèi is a description of the Buddha-mind.

   Korean Buddhism was violently suppressed from around the middle of the fifteenth century††.   Following its restoration, during the first decade of the sixteenth century, the Seon [禪] (Zen) and Gyo [敎] sects became deeply infused with the ideas and attitudes of neo-Confucianism.  This is why at least a cursory understanding of neo-Confucianism is important to the correct understanding of Takuan Sōhō’s ideas and arguments‡‡. __________ *On a basic, literal, level, the meaning of the four kanji is “the empty spirit is not confused.”  What is curious is that a phrase from one of the Confucian classics is being used by Takuan to describe “the Buddha’s heart” -- the Buddha-mind.

†The Dàxué zhāng-jù is the first of the Four Books and Five Classics (Sì-shū wǔ-jīng [四書五經]).

   The Four Books (Sì-shū [四書]) are: Dàxué zhāng-jù [大學章句], the Great Learning; Zhōngyōng zhāng-jù [中庸章句], the Doctrine of the Mean; Lúnyǔ zhāng-jù [論語章句], the Analects [of Confucius]; and, Mèngzǐ zhāng-jù [孟子章句], the [Book of] Mencius.

   The Five Classics (Wǔ-jīng [五經]) are:  Shījīng [詩經], the Classic of Poetry; Shūjīng [書經], the Book of Documents (also known as the Classic of History); Lǐjì [禮記], the Book of Rites; Yìjīng [易經], I Ching (also known as the Book of Changes); and, Chūn-qiū [春秋], the Spring and Autumn Annals (this book is also known by the alternate Chinese names:  Línjīng [麟經], the Classic of Lin; and Lín-shǐ [麟史], the History of Lin).

   These nine works form the intellectual foundation of (political) neo-Confucianism.

‡Zhū Xī [朱熹; 1130 ~ 1200] (edited slightly from the Wikipedia article) was a Chinese philosopher, historian, politician, poet, and calligrapher of the Southern Song dynasty.  As a leading figure in the development of Neo-Confucianism, Zhū Xī played a pivotal role in shaping the intellectual foundations of later imperial China. He placed great emphasis on rationality, opposed mysticism and religious experience, and constructed a huge philosophical system.  His extensive commentaries and editorial work on the Sì-shū [四書] became the core texts of the imperial civil service examinations from 1313 until the exams were abolished in 1905.  He advanced a rigorous philosophical methodology known as the “investigation of [the nature of] things” (gé-wù [格物]) and emphasized meditation as an essential practice for moral and intellectual self-cultivation.  Zhū Xī’s thought exerted profound influence, becoming the official state ideology of China from the Yuan dynasty onward, and was later adopted in other East Asian countries such as Japan [during the Edo period], [and] Korea [of the Josen dynasty].... In these regions, his Neo-Confucian doctrines were institutionalized through educational systems and civil service examinations, shaping political ideologies, social hierarchies, and cultural values for centuries.

**The “superior man” is represented by the word jūnzǐ [君子].  While literally meaning a nobleman (in other words, an individual employed as a high government functionary or official), in neo-Confucian philosophy it refers to a person who can be described as the “ideal” man (one who perfectly embodies the manly ideal as defined in neo-Confucian writings), a man of virtue, a high-minded person, a noble person, a superior person, a person possessed of real wisdom (not just book-learning), or a (true) gentleman.  It is unfortunately a fact that women were generally dismissed as irrelevant in neo-Confucian thought, hence the use of generally masculine terms.

    This contrasts with the idea of the common man (xiǎo-rén [小人]), who is an individual incapable of harboring or manifesting such virtues.

††Following the restoration of the monarchy under the Lee family (a position strongly supported by the evidence found in the National Archives, though likely denied by most scholars).

    The Amidist Sect, from within which chanoyu arose, was completely extinguished at that time (due to the part that its teachings on equality played in the overthrow of the Goryeo dynasty), with its temples eventually falling under the administration of one of the other sects (Seon [禪] and Gyo [敎]).

   Seon [禪] was the Korean Zen sect, headquartered in the Tongdo-sa [通度寺], and with which Takuan was affiliated.  Gyo [敎], originally headquartered in the Haein-sa [海印寺], was the sect that advocated that a deep study of the scriptures -- equivalent to the neo-Confucian emphasis on the study of the Sì-shū wǔ-jīng [四書五經] -- was the best approach.  It was the Gyo sect that produced (and preserved) the Tripiṭaka Koreana (the Korean Tripiṭaka, a collection of 81,258 printing blocks, and the books produced from them, that preserves the whole canon of the Buddhist teachings in their Chinese versions).

‡‡According to many scholars, Takuan was very influential in the way that the Tokugawa bakufu incorporated neo-Confucianism into its governing philosophy.

²⁵Tathātā [तथाता] is the term that is represented in the text as zhēn-rú [眞如] (shin-nyo).  Editing the explanation from what is found in the Digital Dictionary of Buddhism*:

    Tathātā [तथाता] means suchness.  Things as they are; the establishment of reality as empty.  Reality-nature, the nature of existence.  The universally pervading principle.  The existence of the mind as true reality.  As-it-is-ness.  Zhēn [眞] is interpreted as zhēn-shí [眞實] the real, the true, the genuine; and rú [如] as rú-cháng [如常] thus always, or eternally so -- i.e. reality as contrasted with xū-wàng [虛妄] emptiness, or falsity; and bù-biàn bù-gǎi [不變不改] unchanging or immutable as contrasted with form and phenomena....

    This concept is fundamental to Mahāyāna philosophy, implying the absolute, the ultimate source and character of all phenomena.  In general Mahāyāna usage it indicates the absolute reality which transcends the multitude of forms in the phenomenal world.  It is regarded as being identical with the Dharmakaya or Dharma-body, fǎshēn [法身], being ineffable and inapprehensible by the unenlightened.  It is regarded, on the one hand, as real existence, shí-yǒu [實有], and on the other hand, as emptiness, kōng [空].  It is the underlying reality upon which all phenomenal existence depends.

   See also footnote 25, above. __________ *http://www.buddhism-dict.net/cgi-bin/xpr-ddb.pl?q=%E7%9C%9E%E5%A6%82

    I have added the Chinese readings of the kanji (since that is the language into which the original Indian ideas were translated -- the original just shows the kanji without any pronunciation), as well as made a few, very minor, changes to the wording in the interests of making the text easier to read here.

²⁶Go-jin ni somarite hoshii* ni [五塵に染まりて放に] means stained by the defilement of the five senses (sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch).

    That is, because the senses are defiled, we are unable to perceive the true nature of phenomena. __________ *The pronunciation indicated (by katakana on the right side of the kanji in the printed text) is hoshii [ホシイ].  This is followed by ma-ma [マヽ], which indicates uncertainty -- in other words, the copy of the text reviewed by one person who was involved in the transmission of the text (whether an earlier copyist, or the editor who was charged with preparing this document for inclusion in the Sadō ko-ten zen-shū [茶道古典全集]) was unable to read the original clearly enough to be certain about what it said.  This was likely due to the deterioration of the paper.  Hoshii, it must be pointed out, is not an accepted historical reading of this particular kanji.  (Additional examples of this kind of thing are found here and there throughout this chapter, not all of which are cast into doubt by the editor.  Since nothing can be said about them, I will refrain from calling attention to them in this translation unless absolutely necessary.)

²⁷Ton-jin-chi no san-doku wo hatsushite [貪嗔痴の三毒を發して]:

◦ tān [貪] (ton in Japanese) was the Chinese translation of the Indian term raga [राग] (which literally means to be dyed or colored), referring to the effects of the negative desires of greed, sensuality, lust, desire, or other attachment to a sensory object;

◦ chēn [嗔] (jin) means hatred, anger, ill-will, and antipathy; and,

◦ chī [痴] (chi) refers to states like ignorance, foolishness, stupidity, madness, insanity*.

    These are the three poisons (san-doku [三毒]) that are expelled† (hatsushiru [發しる]‡) by the pollution of the five senses. __________ *Doing, as Einstein said, the same thing again and again, expecting to receive a different result.

†In the sense of a gas or odor being expelled or released from some purifying substance.

‡The meanings of the verb hatsushiru [發しる] includes the ideas of breathe, pass off, emit, arise, come up, utter, let out, let loose, emit, send.

    Hatsushite [發して] is, of course, the past tense of the verb, that would mean have been given off by (the polluted senses).

²⁸Isshin seijō tsui ni henjite, san-doku no utsuwa wo jōju-su [一心淸淨遂に變して、三毒の器を成就す].

    Tsui ni hen-shite [遂に變じて] means to be changed in the end -- in this context, it seems better to translate henjiru [變じる] as “ultimately corrupted” (away from the ideals of isshin seijō [一心淸淨]).

    San-doku no utsuwa wo jōju-su [三毒の器を成就す] means (his mind) becomes fully (jōju-su [成就す]*) a receptacle (utsuwa [器]) for the three poisons (san-doku [三毒]). __________ *The literal meaning of jōju-suru [成就する] is to carry out, accomplish, attain, complete.  Takuan is describing this corruption as if it were an infectious disease that finally manages to overwhelm the condition of original purity, morphing it into the sickness of greed, hatred, and ignorance.

²⁹Here, the text has the compound [w]ejaku [穢著].  The second kanji is considered to be a non-standard substitution for chaku or jaku [着]*.  E [穢] means to be defiled, to be unclean; while chaku [着] would mean to arrive at, to put on (like clothing), to assume (a condition).  Thus, e-jaku [穢着], is interpreted to mean “having become tainted by,” or “having become subsumed by.” __________ *This substitution also found in Chinese usage.

³⁰Go-joku [五濁] refers to the five impure states or conditions by which all creation is oppressed.  The five are:

◦ Kō-jaku [劫濁] means the impurity of (this) kalpa [कल्प], referring to the environmental and social impurities of the present age (things like war, epidemics, and famine).

◦ Ken-jaku [見濁] refers to the proliferation of wicked thoughts and views.

◦ Bonnō-jaku [煩惱濁] refers to the spread of worldly desires:  it indicates a state of affairs in which greed, anger, and delusion run rampant, in which people’s minds are in disarray, and vice spreads throughout the world unchecked.

◦ Jujō-jaku [衆生濁] means the defilement that becomes inherent in all sentient beings, a state in which a desire to do good deeds declines, in which the minds of the creatures become dull, they become unhealthy, and the world becomes full of hardships; simultaneously, there is a decline in the quality of the human condition.

◦ Myō-jaku [命濁] refers to the shortening of lifespans†, which, in the case of human beings, is ultimately reduced to as little as 10 years‡. __________ *Kalpa [कल्प] is a unit of time, meaning the time between the creation and destruction of a universe.

†The time in which a creature will be able to resolve its bad karma, and store up good karma that will affect its future lives.

‡Meaning the absolute minimum age for procreation.  At this stage in the evolution of life, people are born, live until they can reproduce, and then die almost immediately (a condition that can be likened to the life-cycle of annual plants).

³¹Onore utsuwa no soakunaru wo oboezu-shite [己器の鹿悪なるを覺えずして].

    The first issue that needs to be dealt with in this sentence is that the text has soaku* [鹿悪], which is meaningless.  The first kanji, however, is probably a miscopied (and non-standard) simplification† of so [麤], making the word soaku [麤悪] -- which would mean inferior, coarse, crude.

    Utsuwa [器] vessel, is referring to the vessel of the heart, the vessel of the mind.  This is not to be confused, or conflated, with tea utensils.

   As a result, this sentence is saying that the individual (or society at large) is unaware (oboezu-shite [覺えずして]) that their own mind (represented by utsuwa [器], vessel) is inferior or defective (soakunaru [鹿悪なる]). __________ *The first kanji in this compound roku [鹿], which can also be read shika, means a deer.

    So, therefore, could not actually be the pronunciation of the kanji shown.

†The intended kanji would have been “鹿” with two dots (indicating a double repetition of the first-written element) underneath.  The two dots were lost at some point when the chapter was transcribed.

³²This quotation is from Chapter 2 of the Dào-dé jīng [道德經]:

tiān-xià jiē zhī měi zhī wéi měi sī è yǐ (jiē)* zhī shàn zhī wéi shàn sī bù-shàn yǐ

[天下皆知美之為美斯惡已 (皆)知善之為善斯不善已].

    “All under heaven understand that ‘beauty’ is the result of [something that is] done beautifully, and from this hostility† [toward that which is not beautiful] arises; (they all) know that ‘goodness‡’ is the result of doing good, and from this [the idea of] ‘not good’ arises.”

    I should point out that (modern) explanations (which appear to have been made by people unfamiliar with the Dào-dé jīng, but based on the way these words have been forced to fit into Japanese grammatical structures through the use of extraneously introduced particles) generally diverge from the original sense of this quotation.  Katano Suzue (see footnote 7, above), for example, interprets this passage to mean** “everyone in the world thinks they know what is beautiful, but they only know what is evil; they think they know what is good, but they only know what is bad.”  It could be argued, from context, that Takuan’s understanding†† might be closer to Katano sensei’s interpretation than it is to the literal sense of the original.  My translation in the body of the translation reflects this way of understanding the quotation. __________ *Somehow the first word in the second sentence -- jiē [皆] (which means everyone, all people) -- has disappeared.  Whether Takuan misremembered the quotation, or whether this is the result of another copyist's error, is unclear.  The word can be assumed, however, since the second sentence is parallel to the first, so its absence does not really distract from, or change, the meaning.

†While the primary meaning of è [惡] is evil or wicked, it can also mean hostility (in Cantonese this is actually the principal meaning).  Thus, once the idea of “beauty” has been established, people will react badly to that which they perceive to be not beautiful.

‡There is a certain ambiguity among scholars of the Dào-dé jīng regarding what the second sentence was actually intended to mean, since the earliest sense of the word (originally written “譱”) is good in the sense of being beautiful (physical beauty) or virtuous (moral beauty).  But shàn [善] can also be understood to mean “be good at doing something,” ergo “do something skillfully.”  And if this is the preferred interpretation (as is the case with some scholars), the second sentence would be “(they all) know that ‘something well done’ is the result of doing something well, and from this [the idea of] ‘not well done’ arises.”

**Her words are:

seken no hito mina utsukushii-mono no bi to iu-mono wo shitte-iru tsumori de mo kore ha waru-bakari.  Zen no zentaru-koto wo shitte-iru tsumori de mo kore ha fu-zen dake

[世間の人皆美しいものの美というものを知っているつもりでもこれは悪ばかり｡善の善たることを知っているつもりでもこれは不善だけ].

    The translation is as above.

††He seems to be thinking that the aesthetics of “beauty” that has been generally agreed upon by the tea world represents a debased understanding of beauty (such as, for example, the assertion that distorted, misshapen, or repaired utensils are “beautiful”); and that what is generally understood as being appropriate (on account, for example, of the object's rarity or commercial value) is, in fact, a complete perversion of the idea of what is actually appropriate for use in chanoyu.  Thus, the socially approved ideas of beauty and goodness both represent an evil that must be stamped out completely before Zen-tea can come into existence.

³³The text here has narenuru-hito* [瀆人], which, based on the kanji, would mean a person who has become thoroughly polluted by (something)†.  The idea is that this person has been over exposed to the fragrance so that it has permeated into not only his clothing and hair, but also managed to coat his nasal passages as well, so that it would be impossible for him to recognize this (or perhaps any) fragrance to which he might then be exposed.

    The commentators all interpret this word to be narenuru-hito [慣ねる人]‡, which would seem to mean a person who has become accustomed to (something) -- by extension, perhaps, a person who has become desensitized to something.  In this case, it would mean a person who has become desensitized because he has been over-exposed to incense.  As a result, he is no longer able to discern the fragrance. __________ *The kanji do not yield this pronunciation.  That said, it is unclear when, or by whom, the kana indicating the preferred pronunciation were added -- according to Kanshū o-shō-sama, Takuan’s original text was written entirely in kanji, as was his wont (though living in Japan for more than 40 years, he never seems to have written in Japanese), with no kana present at all.  So the kana might represent that latter editor's opinions, rather than Takuan’s original intentions.

†No word of this sort appears to have ever existed in the Japanese, Korean, or Chinese languages.

‡The implication being that either the kanji was miscopied or misread, or that Takuan made a mistake when writing a fairly complicated and rarely used kanji.  That said, it could also have been part of a dialectic idiom that was not preserved for posterity.  (The idea of being “polluted” by the fragrance creates a much stronger impression than “becoming accustomed to it” does.)

³⁴Through his metaphor, Takuan is suggesting that, because our minds are already corrupted by the three poisons, and disadvantaged by our having born into a world dominated by the five impure states, we are unable to perceive the world around us as endangering to us.

    As a result, because we are already thoroughly steeped in this culture, we are unable to recognize it, or its faults -- and so hopeless to transcend it.  This is why we are drawn to tea utensils that will do nothing but built up our bad karma.

³⁵[W]e-ki* [穢器] means impure vessels, unclean utensils, contaminated implements, and so forth.

    It is not an idiomatically Japanese expression. __________ *The pronunciation is indicated as we-ki [ヱキ].  Contemporary Japanese orthography would render it e-ki [エキ].

³⁶Honrai shōjō no utsuwa [本來淸淨の器] means utensils (utsuwa [器]) that are intrinsically (honrai [本來]) pure (shōjō [淸淨]), as defined above in footnote 5.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 96.

〽 Moto-yori mo naki inishie no hō naredo         ima zo kiwamuru honrai no hō

   [もとよりもなき古への法なれど         今ぞ極むる本來の法].

    “[Even though it was] also [true that,] since the earliest days, there was nothing [that could be considered to be an] ancient law, the law of the present-day has [now] become [fixed as] the fundamental law.”

    Moto-yori mo naki inishie no hō naredo [元よりも無き古への法なれど]:  moto-yori mo naki [元よりも無き] means “(something) has never existed from the beginning;” inishie no hō [古への法] means “the ancient law;” and naredo [なれど] means “but,” “however,” “even though.”  So, in other words, “even though the ancient law never existed from the beginning.”

    Ima zo kiwamaru honrai on hō [今ぞ極まる本來の法].  Ima zo [今ぞ]¹ means just now; kiwamaru [極まる], means (something that was undecided) has now become fixed or clear; and honrai no hō [本來の法] means “the original law².”

    This seems to be referring not to the ideas encapsulated in the Hundred Poems, but to (Jōō’s and) Rikyū’s understanding of the wabi small room as the place where chanoyu-samādhi is to be cultivated in an atmosphere of Zen minimalism³.

    Returning to the pattern that had been established for these final 9 or 10 verses, Poem 95 is found only in the three collections associated with Hosokawa Sansai, implying that he was the person responsible for the addition.

_________________________

¹The particle zo [ぞ] adds emphasis.  In this case, ima zo [今ぞ] points to this exact moment in time, just in the present -- to designate the origin of the law that governs chanoyu.

    The present to which this refers was, of course, the middle of the seventeenth century, the time when Takuan Sōhō’s influence was at its greatest, when chanoyu was being viewed (at least in certain circles*) as a manifestation of Zen. ___________ *Sen no Sōtan, and at least certain of his followers.

    Though this emphasis on Zen -- and Zen rejection of the idea of owning fine utensils that is championed in Takuan’s Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄] -- was becoming problematic for the bakufu (which had originally encouraged the practice of chanoyu precisely because, in addition to allowing them to pay off Ieyasu’s war-debt with the tea utensils from Hideyoshi’s collection -- the only part of his wealth to survive the wars between Ieyasu and Hideyori reasonably intact -- it would also force the wealthy merchants and daimyō to expend so much of their accumulated wealth on tea utensils that they would no longer be able to mount a credible threat of insurrection against the central government).  As the Sen family wandered more vociferously down this particular rabbit hole (feigning indifference to all of the government’s attempts to tempt them into a more worldly sort of tea practice -- cf. Sōtan’s notation that the silver chashaku sent to him through Kobori Masakazu should be used only in the mizuya), the bakufu started to became more open to a kind of chanoyu based on the aesthetic tastes of the wealthy daimyō. Thus, in a very real sense, and despite his great influence of the government, Takuan was at least as responsible for the ultimate rise of the daimyō-cha as the arguments (that their ancestors had learned directly from Sen no Rikyū, and his teachings directly contradicted what Sōtan and his sons were teaching) of the daimyō themselves.

²Honrai no hō [本來の法] means “the original law” only in the sense that there was no such law in existence before the present law was articulated.

    Honrai [本來], which literally means “(to) come (down) from the beginning,” also includes the notions of “as such,” “intrinsically (so),” and “in and of itself.”  As a result, ima zo kiwamaru honrai no hō [今ぞ極まる本來の法] should be understood as implying that the law of the present should be considered to be the Law simply because it is the only law that has ever been articulated, and so the only law that has ever existed.

    Whether we should understand this as referring specifically to the rules created (or, more accurately, transmitted) by Rikyū*, or the rules and conventions of the mid-seventeenth century as reviewed (and, perhaps, revised) through the lens of Takuan Sōhō’s teachings, is not really clear. ___________ *As the supposed author of the poems.

    Contextually, while this poem should presumably be taken as referring to the teachings that were collected together (by Jōō) in what Hosokawa Sansai was calling the “Rikyū hyaku shu [利休百首]” (i.e., Jōō’s Chanoyu hyaku shu [茶湯百首] cycle), even this is unclear.  The poem can also be read as referring to the ideas on the practice of chanoyu that were being proselytized by Takuan Sōhō (and, indeed, this interpretation seems more comfortable since, other than the first and last poems in Jōō’s cycle,

[Poem 1]

〽 Sono michi ni iran to omou kokoro koso,         waga-mi nagara no shishō nari-kere

   [其の道に入らんと思う心こそ、         我が身ながらの師匠なりけれ],

and,

[Poem 95]

〽 Chanoyu wo ba kokoro ni somete me ni kakezu         mimi wo hisomete kiku-koto mo nashi

   [茶の湯をば心に染めて目に掛けず         耳を潛めて聞くことも無し],

the Hundred Poems do not really say much that can be interpreted philosophically as manifesting Zen truth, or urging the beginner to explore chanoyu as a way to cultivate his samādhi).

³In other words, in the context where special or treasured utensils are to be rejected.

   Takuan’s opinion of what constitutes a Zen tea utensil will be useful to anyone who really wants to understand this poem.  For that reason I have translated the relevant chapter (Zen-cha-ki no koto [禪茶器ノ㕝]) from his Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄] in an appendix, which will follow as the next post.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 95.

〽 Chanoyu wo ba kokoro ni somete me ni kakezu          mimi wo hisomete kiku-koto mo nashi

    [茶の湯をば心に染めて目に掛けず          耳を潛めて聞くことも無し].

    “When [your] heart has become suffused with chanoyu, [your] eyes will have nothing to see; and [your] ears being closed, there will be nothing to listen to.”

◎ This poem should be interpreted in light of the influence that Zen had on the development and practice of chanoyu.

    Chanoyu wo ba kokoro ni somete [茶の湯をば心に染めて]:  somete [染めて]¹ means dyed, imbued, tinged, so kokoro ni somete [心に染めて] means the heart has become imbued or suffused with (something).  In other words, the heart has become colored through and through by the object of its desire².  Because the construction wo ba [をば] follows (and so indicates) the direct object with which the verb (in this case, somu [染む]) interacts, this person’s heart has become deeply infused with -- in other words, devoted to -- chanoyu.  We should understand this idea of kokoro ni somete in light of Poem 1 (sono-michi ni iran to omou kokoro-koso [其の道に入らんと思う心こそ]), where Jōō asked the beginner to consider whether or not he (truly) wished to enter the Way (sono michi ni iran [其の道に入らん]) through the practice of chanoyu.

    Me ni kakezu [目に掛けず] literally means that there is nothing upon which the eyes may rest.

    Mimi wo hisomete [耳を潛めて]:  hisomete [潛めて] means to conceal or cover -- in this case, the image is of covering the ears (with the hands) -- so that outside influences will be kept from penetrating into your mind.

    Kiku-koto mo nashi [聞くことも無し] means things worthy of being listened to (kiku-koto [聞くこと]) also do not exist (mo nashi [も無し]).

    This poem, then, is saying that when one has truly dedicated oneself to chanoyu -- when one has fully committed oneself to the Way through the practice of chanoyu, as it were -- one has to turn inward in order to become one with the truth.  There is nothing to be gained by looking at what other people are doing; there is nothing to be learned from listening to a litany of other’s experiences and accomplishments.  Ultimately, whatever it is in one’s capacity to attain, that will come -- and, indeed, must come -- from within the depths of your own heart³.

    While this poem should be understood in light of this Zen-influenced way of thinking, many commentators prefer to interpret it in the context of the secret teachings hidden away by the modern schools⁴.

    Unlike the other poems that we have been discussing of late, a version of this poem is found in the manuscripts of the Hundred Poems associated with Jōō and Rikyū⁵ -- though, as usual, with slightly altered wording:

〽 chanoyu wo ba kokoro ni somete me ni ha sezu          mimi wo sobamete iu-koto mo nashi

    [茶の湯をば心にそめて目にはせず          耳をそばめていう事もなし].

    “When the heart has been imbued with chanoyu, there is nothing for [one’s] eyes to see, [and because one’s] ears are averted, there are no words to be heard.”

    Me ni ha sezu [目にはせず]:  the verb moku-suru [目する] means to look (at something), watch, observe.  Me ni ha sezu [目にはせず]⁶, therefore, means there is nothing to look at, nothing to watch, nothing to observe -- referring to learning through observation.

    Mimi wo sobamete iu-koto mo nashi [耳を側めて云うことも無し]:  the verb sobameru [側める] means to turn aside, avert, turn away (from something) so you do not experience it; iu-koto [云うこと] means “things that are said⁷;” mo nashi [も無し], also are nonexistent (or, perhaps better in this context, not experienced).  This is referring to learning through indoctrination.

    As us usually the case, Jōō’s version is usually more direct, more revealing of the actual intention.

_________________________

¹The Chinese meaning of the kanji somu [染む] is “dyed” -- the kanji shows a hook (九) hanging from a tree (木) above flowing water (氵=  水), which literally depicts the way that freshly dyed cloth was fixed (by suspending the lengths of cloth in a flowing stream) in pre-modern times.

²The idiomatic expression kokoro ni somu [心に染む] means that one has become passionately interested in, or deeply devoted to, someone or something.

³This emphasis on relying on that which emanates from within, while rejecting that which is gleaned from the traditional teachings (which are external to oneself), can be traced back to the Chán downplaying of (if not an out-and-out indifference to) the value of the studying the sūtras and other classical teachings.  This is the idea on which an understanding of the Poem 95 needs to be based.

    The earliest example of this negative approach to the classical writings (at least that I have been able to find*) can be read in the Zǔtáng-jí [祖堂集] (Sōdō-shū in Japanese) -- usually known as the Anthology of the Patriarchal Hall in English.  Assembled in 952, these stories represent the oldest collection of the biographies of the great Chán (Zen) masters from the earliest times down to the then-present day.

    In this collection, we read an account of the enlightenment story of the great monk Xuěfēng Yìcún [雪峰義存; 822 ~ 908]† (Seppō Gizon), which may be summarized as follows:  

Xuěfēng and his Dharma-brother‡ Yántóu Quánhuò [巖頭全奯; 828 ~ 887] (Gantō Zenkatsu) undertook to visit the great master Línjì Yìxuán [臨濟義玄; ? ~ 866]**.  On the road, the two were overtaken by a heavy snowstorm, and forced to take refuge in a wayside inn.  During their confinement in the inn, Xuěfēng confided to Yántóu that he had not yet gained insight, even after years of study.  Surprised at hearing this, Yántóu replied

     yǐ-hòu yù xiǎng bō yáng dà-jiāo, yī-qiè yāo cóng zì xīn-      zhōng liú-chū, jiāng-lái cái dé dǐng tiān lì dì       [以後欲想播揚大教，一切都要從自心中流出，將來才得頂      天立地]:

“what use is it if we subsequently†† winnow through the great teachings [of the past] in search of understanding?  Everything you seek flows out from within your own heart.  The ability thus gained will rise higher than the heavens while you yet stand [firmly] on the earth.”

    Upon hearing these words, Xuěfēng spontaneously achieved his great enlightenment.

    Beginning in the tenth century, then, the argument favoring direct experience over book-learning starts to appear in the teachings of certain lineages of Chán (Zen) masters; but the first documentable instance is the one cited above.

    Poem 95 is arguing that the study of chanoyu should be likened to Zen training‡‡.  What comes to us from without can do little to help us until we first bring forth our own personal chanoyu (which is the chanoyu we realize in samādhi) from within the depths of our heart.  This is what is meant by the very first poem in the Hundred Poems series:

〽 Sono michi ni iran to omou kokoro koso,           waga-mi nagara no shishō nari-kere

    [其の道に入らんと思う心こそ          我が身ながらの師匠なりけれ].

   “If [I] decide [that I will] not embark on the Way, that must depend on [my own] feelings.  Isn’t it that my own body must be [the thing that] guides [my decision]?”

    This idea of “according to my own body” (waga-mi-nagara [我が身ながら]***) is alluding to the idea that “everything you need must flow out from within your own heart.”  Chanoyu is ultimately the cultivation of samādhi, and so external influences (which will change or corrupt our practice) should be ignored. __________ *The same idea is expressed, in similar words, in a number of Linchi’s discourses, for example, since he was a great advocate of distancing oneself from the classical writings; but the Línjì-lù [臨濟錄] (Rinzai-roku), which is the principal account of his teachings, postdates the Zǔtáng-jí by many decades (in fact, the earliest known edition of the Línjì-lù is dated 1120, though this text was purportedly assembled from a collection of undated notes that were set down many decades before).

†Xuěfēng was born into a family of devout Buddhists.  At the age of 9 (7 or 8 in the Western way of counting), he expressed the desire to become a monk.  He commenced his career as a student of the Buddhist scriptures around the age of 12, and received the tonsure at 17.  But after studying for many years, he still failed to attain enlightenment, and this was finally resolved as narrated in the above story.

    Xuědòu Zhòng-xiǎn [雪竇重顕; ] (Setchō Jūken), the monk who originally collected together the hundred cases of the Bìyán-lù [碧巖集] (Hekigan-roku), and also appended an expository poem to each, was in the lineage of Xuěfēng Yìcún.

‡The concept of “Dharma-brother” means that both Xuěfēng and Yántóu were disciples of the same master (in their case, they were followers of Déshān Xuānjiàn [德山宣鑒; 780 ~ 865], who is known as Tokuzan Sengan in Japanese-based literature).

**Línjì Yìxuán [臨濟義玄; ? ~ 866] (Rinzai Gigen) was the founder of the Rinzai School (Rinzai-shū [臨濟宗]) of Zen.

††Yǐ-hòu [以後] suggests the idea of doing something (in this case, winnowing through the ancient teachings in search of the truth) long after the fact.  The sūtras were written down centuries ago.  What relevance, Yántóu is saying, do they have to the here-and-now?  Even if they are words of great wisdom, they represent Shakyamuni’s great wisdom.  They, thus, have nothing to do with you.

‡‡During the first half of the seventeenth century, Takuan Sōhō [澤庵宗彭; 1573 ~ 1645], who had arrived in Japan in 1603 (in the company of the Korean potters who established the Hagi-yaki [萩燒] kiln), was actively championing this approach to chanoyu in his treatise, Zen-cha roku [禪茶錄].  (The original Zen-cha roku was written in what Korean scholars believed to be “Chinese;” the work, however, was popularized by a Japanese “translation” that was produced by the monk Jakuan Sōtaku [寂庵宗澤; dates unknown -- though it is possible that this name represented a garbling of Takuan’s own moniker], first published in 1828, and it is usually to this monk that authorship of the work is credited.)

***Waga-mi-nagara [我が身ながら] means “for my (own) body;” “on account of my body (literally, though it is about my own body...)” -- that is, in consideration of my own physical limitations and constraints, and, by extension, according to my own personal circumstances.

    The expression is cognate with ware-nagara [我ながら ], which means “for myself.”

⁴Kawakami Fuhaku [川上不白; 1716 ~ 1807], one of Sen no Sōtan’s four principal disciples, introduced the concept of jo-ha-kyū [序破急], as a sort of theoretical way to understand the practice of chanoyu*.

    According to his idea, jo [序] referred to the beginning of the temae (the arranging of the utensils on the mat, moving of them onto the temae-za, and concluding with the host resting the hishaku on the futaoki, followed by the sō-rei [総礼]) -- during this first part of the temae, the host performs each action decisively and efficiently, but without any attempt to establish a tempo for his actions; ha [破] would refer to the central section of the temae, beginning with the shi-hō-sabaki [四方捌き]† and subsequent cleaning of the chaire (or natsume) and the chashaku, through the chasen-tōshi and the preparation of the tea, and the offering of the bowl of tea to the guests -- while doing these things the host should perform deliberately while maintaining a regular and uniform tempo; and, kyū [急], the concluding section -- cleaning the chawan and other utensils, removing them from the room, and the haiken -- where, without abandoning the tempo, the host behaves with alacrity, without dawdling or hesitation‡.

    But many chajin seem to conflate Fuhaku’s idea with the somewhat similar concept of shu-ha-ri [守破離]** -- where shu [守] means to adhere closely to the traditional way that things should be done; ha [破] means to break from the traditional forms and develop a new, unique approach; and ri [離] means to transcend the established forms, so that the traditional techniques are abandoned, and one acts naturally and spontaneously.  This is the way that many modern people attempt to explain the meaning of Poem 95. ___________ *This was actually based on the way that gagaku [雅樂] (ancient court music), and bu-gaku [舞樂] (classical dance), were structured.  In this context, jo [序] referred to the introductory passage, which is slow but with the emphasized notes falling off-beat (in dance, for example, the strong step would occur off-beat -- where the beat is established by the hand-drum); ha [破] to the middle section, which is slow but where the significant notes fall on-beat (the dancer would step strongly on the beat); and kyū [急] to the ending section, which would be fast, but where the performer is also careful to align with the beat structure.

†The shi-hō-sabaki [四方捌き] (some of the modern schools read this word as yo-hō-sabaki) began with Sen no Sōtan, originally as an action that was supposed to suggest (to the representatives of the Tokugawa bakufu) that he could not find the wa-sa [輪差] (the one side that is folded, rather than sewn), and so was unqualified to fill the role of Rikyū’s successor.  In Rikyū’s temae, however, there was nothing that was equivalent to this elaborate way of folding the fukusa.

    It is usually taught that the shi-hō-sabaki is supposed to be coordinated with the host’s breathing, so that it establishes the rhythm and tempo for everything follows.

‡In other words, doing things quickly -- but without appearing to be hurrying.  

    Remember, the hi-ai [火相] will be declining during this time, and everything must be done, and the guests should have left the room, before the kama finally falls silent.

**A practice derived from the stages of the way that the martial arts were supposed to be mastered.

⁵In the Matsu-ya collection of the Chanoyu hyaku-shu, as well as Rikyū’s manuscript dated Tenshō 8 [天正八年] (1580), chanoyu wo ba kokoro ni somete me ni ha sezu, mimi wo hisomete kiku-koto mo nashi [茶の湯をば心にそめて目にはせず、耳をそばめていう事もなし] is the final poem in the series, making it the closing bookend to the first poem, sono michi ni iran to omou kokoro koso, waga-mi nagara no shishō nari-kere [其の道に入らんと思う心こそ、我が身ながらの師匠なりけれ], and so subtly linking the two together in these roles.

    These two poems, together, establish the incipience and the culmination of the beginner’s study of chanoyu.

⁶Sezu [せず = 爲ず] is the negative form of the verb suru [する = 爲る], meaning to do (something).

⁷Idiomatically, iu-koto [いう事 = 云うこと] also includes things like theoretical intentions, background information, the reasoning behind something, and so forth.  In other words, in this context, it would refer to the explanations of teachers that are transmitted orally, the secret teachings, chanoyu theory, and the like -- the things collectively known as hi-den [秘傳].

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 94.

〽 Chanoyu to ha tada yu wo wakashi cha wo tatete          nomu bakari naru-koto to shiru-beshi

    [茶の湯とは只湯を沸し茶を立て          呑むばかり成る事と知るべし].

    “With respect to chanoyu, simply boil the hot-water; and after the tea has been prepared, drink [it] -- no more or less than this.  [This, you] must understand, is what [we] are to do.”

    Tada yu wo wakashi [只湯を沸し]:  tada [只], when used adverbially, means things like only, merely, just, simply; so tada...wakashi [只...沸し] means “simply boil (the hot-water),” or “just boil (the hot-water).”  Yu [湯], of course, means hot-water.

    Cha wo tatete nomu [茶を立て呑む]:  tatete [立て] is the past-tense of the verb tateru [立てる], which is used to mean prepare (tea)¹.  Therefore, “after the tea has been prepared....”  Nomu [呑む] means drink (it).

    Bakari [ばかり], which refers to the entire process that was just explained (boil the hot-water, and after preparing the tea, drink it), means “only” -- in the sense of one should do neither more, nor less, than what has been narrated here.

    Naru-koto [成る事] means something that one should do.

    To shiru-beshi [と知るべし] means you should know that, you should understand that.

    This poem, was composed by Rikyū and conveyed, by him, to Hosokawa Sansai.  But whether Sansai remembered it as being part of the Hundred Poems cycle², or whether he knowingly added it, can be debated -- though, since it is in the middle of the group of poems that he obviously decided to add, this suggests that he may have been aware that it was not originally a part of the collection.

    Once again, this poem is found only in the three collections that can be historically associated with Sansai.

    A nearly identical version of this poem is also found near the end of Book Seven in the Nampō Roku³.  In that source, Nambō Sōkei claims that he found it (along with a number of other poems) scribbled on a scrap of waste paper⁴ that Rikyū was discarding as he readied his papers for the removal of his Sakai residence to Mozuno.  Though the difference is in just one kanji, the way this impacts upon the meaning is critical to the meaning of the poem as a whole:

〽 chanoyu to ha tada yu wo wakashi cha wo tatete nomu bakari naru moto wo shiru-beshi

[茶の湯とは只湯を沸し茶を立て 呑むばかり成る本と知るべし].

    “With respect to chanoyu, simply boil the hot-water; and after the tea has been prepared, drink [it] -- no more or less than this.  [This, you] must understand, is the principal [on which chanoyu] is founded.”

    While Sansai remembered the poem as referring to “something that one should do” (naru-koto [成る事]), the version that Sōkei copied from Rikyū’s own handwritten autograph makes it clear that “just boil the hot-water, prepare the tea, and then drink it” is the fundamental or guiding principal (naru-moto [成る本] of the practice of chanoyu itself.

    And importantly, this understanding of that kanji⁵ (that is, moto [本] as opposed to koto [事]) agrees with Rikyū’s whole approach to wabi-no-chanoyu.  Unlike the earlier “tea of the daisu,” where the utensils and other accessories were acknowledged to be important, in wabi-tea it is the bowl of koicha itself -- rather than the utensils, the setting, the food, or anything else -- that is the raison d'être for the gathering.  In the sō-an [草菴], the whole focus should be on the tea, and the tea alone, with the various utensils handled on the utensil mat only because they are necessary for boiling the hot-water and preparing the bowl of tea.  The host should be careful to do no more than what is necessary to effectuate the service, and thereby help to insure that he can offer his guests the best bowl of koicha possible.

_________________________

¹Tateru [立てる] means to stand (something) up, set (something) up, erect.  How it came to be used to mean prepare tea is unclear -- though by Jōō and Rikyū’s time this usage had become a recognized idiom.

²Sansai seems to have been the first person to refer to the collection as the Rikyū hyaku shu [利休百首]* (rather than the Chanoyu hyaku shu [茶湯百首] as Jōō had titled the collection); and it would follow that he believed that all of the poems had been composed by Rikyū.

    Rikyū did compose other dōka [道歌] that touch on various aspects of the practice of chanoyu, of course (and Sōkei quotes a number of them here and there in the Nampō Roku); but this is the only one of the 10 or so verses that Sansai added that can clearly be identified with Rikyū.  All of the rest are otherwise unknown (in so far as Rikyū’s surviving writings go) -- and at least several of Sansai’s added poems are clearly anachronistic (in that they use or explore ideas that show a marked influence from Korean neo-Confucian philosophy, of the sort that was being spread by Takuan Sōhō during the seventeenth century, a strain of thinking that is never found in any of Rikyū’s authentic writings). ___________ *Those are the words he wrote at the beginning of the Kyūshū manuscript, and in the other copies of the Hundred Poems that came from his hand.

³Cf. the post entitled Nampō Roku, Book 7 (74e):  Ten Poems that Nambō Sōkei Found on Rikyū’s Wastepaper (Part 5).  The URL for that post is:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/736626948731797504/namp%C5%8D-roku-book-7-74e-ten-poems-that-namb%C5%8D

⁴The implication being that Rikyū had jotted them down during the process of composing them.

⁵When handwritten, the kanji for koto [事] and moto [本] can look very similar -- especially if the paper has begun to deteriorate.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 93.

〽 Narai wo ba chiri-akuta zo to omoe-kashi          kaki-mono ha hogo koshi-bari ni se yo

    [習いをば塵芥ぞと思へ可し          書物は反古腰ばかりにせよ].

    “As for what [you] have learned, it is all rubbish! -- that is how [you] should think; and as for the tomes [of secret teachings], they are [just] waste-paper, suitable only for use as koshi-bari¹.”

    The word narai [習い]² means a custom, a usage, a habit (in other words, habitual behavior); the behavioral accoutrements of the way (life) usually is -- and, by extension (particularly in the context of things like chanoyu), established customs, traditions, and the like.  This is why the word is usually translated “lessons” in explanations of Poem 93.  While it refers to the stylized series of movements in which the student is trained during lessons (and this is usually as far as most commentators are disposed to go), it also refers not only to those lessons in technique, but also to the other associated conventions -- such as the “appropriate” utensils that we are taught that should be used for a given temae  -- and the way the gathering is supposed to be structured, in order to accommodate those special usages.

    Chiri-akuta zo to omoe kashi [塵芥ぞと思えかし]:  chiri-akuta [塵芥] means dust, dirt, refuse, rubbish, trash.  Adding the particle zo [ぞ] gives emphasis to the assertion that the things you were taught are garbage (something that should be discarded as soon as possible after this realization comes to mind).  The phrase to omoe-kashi [と思えかし] means “that is what I thought,” or “that is what (or how) you (should) think:”  omoe [思え] means “think,” while the final particle kashi [かし] gives affirmation to that thought³.

    Kaki-mono ha hogo [書き物は反古]:  kaki-mono [書き物] means a written book, and is referring specifically to the plethora of printed books, each claiming to reveal the “secret teachings” of chanoyu (to anyone who had the money to buy them) that began to proliferate around the middle of the seventeenth century.  Kakimono ha hogo [書き物は反古] means that these documents are simply wastepaper (with the implication that they should be treated as such).

    Koshi-bari ni seyo [腰張にせよ]:  koshi-bari [腰張] is, as explained in more detail below (see footnote 1), paper that was pasted onto the lower part of a wall to prevents the clothes of the person seated there from being soiled by the mud-plaster should his back, or feet, come into contact with the wall.  While originally made from gray-blue or dark green Mino paper; Oribe started using old printed calendars for this purpose, which others expanded to include old letters and other documents⁴, and it is to this last form of the practice that Hosokawa Sansai is referring in this poem.  The construction ni seyo [にせよ] consists of the particle ni [に] (indicating that the noun koshi-bari is to receive the action of the verb) coupled with the imperative form of the verb suru [する = 爲る] (which means “to do”).  So, literally, “we should do (the writings) as koshi-bari” -- that is, we should use the writings as koshi-bari.  This is literally treating them like wastepaper.

    Ultimately, what all of this means is that while the beginner must certainly learn the rules and traditions as well as technique, and endeavor to follow all of these things carefully every time he performs the temae, we must finally come to the point where we are able to transcend the teachings -- to throw off the external trappings, limitations, and constraints of the way we were taught to do things -- and come to a place where chanoyu is an expression of our own heart and being.  It is not that one really discards the teachings, let alone views them with contempt (as this poem might be taken to imply), but that the teachings should have become so internalized that one is able to act freely without conscious thought of those rules.  It should never be a case of deliberately setting one’s mind against them⁵.

    This is another of the ten or so verses that were added to the collection, apparently by Hosokawa Sansai, around the middle of the seventeenth century.  In this particular case, the text of poem 93 also made its way into both of Katagiri Sadamasa’s anthologies of the Hundred Poems -- though the verse found in the collection that was forwarded to Sadamasa from his (unnamed) contact in Sakai⁶ differs from that found in the other four sources (which all agree on the wording of this poem):

〽 narai wo ba chiri-akuta zo to michi wo shire          kaki-mono ha hogo koshi-bari ni seyo

    [習いをば塵芥ぞと道をしれ          書き物は反古腰張にせよ].

    “[All of our] learning is rubbish -- this is how [you should] understand the Way:  and the writings are wastepaper that can be used as koshi-bari.”

    This version certainly has a more-pronounced Buddhist flavor; but whether it was written by Jōō -- or more likely by one of the monks who were counted among his disciples (assuming there is any tangential connection with him at all) -- cannot be determined (through lack of physical evidence⁷).

_________________________

¹Koshi-bari [腰張] refers to a layer of paper pasted onto the lower part of a wall* resembling a wainscot.  This is most often seen behind the place where the guests will be seated†.  While originally the walls in Japanese rooms were covered with wallpaper‡, the pioneers of wabi-cha argued against this practice in the interests of simplicity.  Nevertheless, because beginners inevitably suffer from their legs, and often try to relieve the pain by leaning back against the wall, a layer of cheap paper (originally deep gray-blue or dark green Mino-shi [美濃紙]**) was pasted to the height of the shoulder blades (since this is where the person’s back will touch the plaster).

    Furuta Sōshitsu is said to have begun the practice of using wastepaper†† as koshi-bari, and the idea spread from him to the machi-shū followers of Imai Sōkyū (who looked to Oribe for guidance following Sōkyū’s death).

    Two representative examples of the use of wastepaper for papering the interior walls of tea rooms may be seen in the Jo-an [如庵] of Oda Yūrakusai [小田有樂齋; 1547 ~ 1621], left, and the Hogo-bari no seki [反古張りの席], designed by Omotesenke’s eighth generation iemoto Sottakusai [啐啄齋; 1744 ~ 1808], on the right‡‡.

    In poem 93, the word koshi-bari is tainted with a derogatory nuance -- with the derivation taken not from its position on the lower part of the wall, but from the (unclean) parts of the human anatomy (the lower back, buttocks, and feet) that will supposedly touch it. __________ *Koshi [腰] means the waist or hips -- though, in this case, it seems to be referring to the hips of the wall, not those of the guests, since it is the shoulder blades that are actually in danger of coming into contact with the wall when someone leans backwards against it.

†Later it was also pasted to the lower end of the wall that surrounds the temae-za.  While this is often explained as being a way to prevent water from splashing onto the wall (and weakening or discoloring the plaster), the actual reason seems to be that white paper makes the utensils (for the guests) for the guests to see, particularly at night gathering.

    For this reason the rule was finally codified to say that the paper surrounding the utensil mat should be the width of one sheet high (approximately 1-shaku), while two rows of paper should be pasted onto the wall that is located behind the guests’ seats..

‡Wallpaper (which was originally imported from China -- many of the famous shikishi [色紙] were cut from pieces of this Chinese wallpaper, and indeed, the traditional sizes of the shikishi and tanzaku were based on the way one sheet of imported wallpaper could be cut into six pieces) not only made the plastered walls appear more attractive, and protected the clothing of anyone who leaned against the wall, but also helped to protect against drafts (blowing through cracks in the plaster, or the places where the plaster adjoins a pillar).  Because paper has a certain elasticity, it can remain intact even when cracks in the plaster open up behind it (and when the paper eventually tears, the tear clearly reveals where a paper patch should be applied).

**The word is also pronounced Mino-gami [美濃紙].

    This is a fairly heavy, course -- albeit very durable -- type of paper, originally manufactured (since the Heian period) to cover shōji panels.  Blue- or green-dyed Mino-gami was later made for papering fusuma (since these dark colors would help to prevent light from one room to seep into the next).  It came to be used for koshi-bari because it would not become soiled, as white paper does.

    The two sides of a sheet of Mino paper are distinctly different in texture.  When used as koshi-bari, it is usually said that the smooth, finished side should face the wall, with the textured side exposed to the room.

††Hogo [反古], wastepaper, was typically saved by the household and collected every month or so by merchants who specialized in the recycling of used paper.  Until the modern age (when Western customs began to infiltrate the Japanese sensibility), paper was always considered too precious a commodity to waste (many years ago I was surprised -- horrified, actually -- to find that some poor Westerner’s discarded love letters had been repurposed to make paper bags for little fried cakes that were being sold at a roadside stand...).

     Furuta Oribe’s original preference was for used paper calendars (originally Mishima-goyomi [三島暦], which actually referred to a sort of printed almanac that had been published by the Kawai family, the hereditary priests of the Izu Mishima Shrine, since the Muromachi period -- specimens from a bound edition of which are shown above -- and, beginning in the Edo period, a second almanac of this sort known as the Sagami-koyomi [さがみ暦] was also published by the Samukawa Shrine in Kanagawa).

    As an aside, the use of the terms Mishima-chawan [三島茶碗] and Mishima-yaki [三島燒] were inspired by the resemblance of the incised lines and bands found on these Korean bowls to the Mishima-goyomi.

‡‡While Oribe held that the written side of the paper should be pasted against the wall, others preferred to do this in reverse -- particularly when the paper in question (such as the minutes of a poetry gathering, or personal communications and the like) had been inscribed by a famous person, or the text revealed something adjacent to chanoyu (since the late Edo period, for example, old temae narratives have occasionally been used in this manner), so that the text can be read by the people in the room.

²This is the nominal form* of the verb narau [習う], which means to study, to learn, to acquire (knowledge); and, by extension, to practice (one’s lessons) -- and also to put into practice what you learned (for example, to practice medicine). __________ *In other words, to make a noun out of a verb.

³Kashi [かし] is an archaism.  In the modern language, this would be like ending a sentence with ne [ね] or yo [よ]:

so dessho ne [そでっしょね], “that’s certainly right!”

kaeri yo [帰りよ], “let’s go!”

⁴According to the Meigetsuki [明月記]*, after his retirement (and subsequent becoming nyūdō [入道]), Fujiwara no Sadaie [藤原定家; 1162 ~ 1241] was asked by his son to prepare an anthology of selected classical poems for the son’s father-in-law, Utsu-no-miya Yoritsuna [宇都宮頼綱; 1178 ~ 1259], a retired military man, courtier, and poet.  During the selection process for the poems that were to be collected into this anthology, the Haku-nin isshu [百人一集], Sadaie asked his former colleagues and other courtiers† for suggestions, which he then copied onto individual shikishi [色紙]‡.  The entire set of was then reviewed by the selection committee (Sadaie and several court ladies with whom he was on intimate terms), and one hundred of them were chosen for inclusion in the anthology.  Sadaie had these hundred shikishi pasted onto a pair of byōbu [屛風] (folding screens), which were displayed in the upper room of Yoritsuna’s country villa, the Ogura san-so [小倉山莊], located in the hills south-east of the capital.  Some say that these byōbu were the precedent for pasting documents onto screens and fusuma, and eventually onto the walls of a room (where they functioned as wallpaper and, as here, koshi-bari).

    Of Sadaie’s original pair of screens, one was destroyed in a fire at the villa, while the other was eventually disassembled** (so that the shikishi could be mounted individually, as hanging scrolls).

    The byōbu were reproduced as two pair of fusuma panels during the Edo period, and these are what are seen above. __________ *Fujiwara no Sadaie’s diary.

†Following various court intrigues involving the Emperor Go-toba [後鳥羽天皇; 1180 ~ 1239], which saw him barred from court, Sadaie was recalled to court service following that emperor’s exile.  He was elevated to the junior grade of the second court rank (ju-ni-i [従二位]) in 1222, finally attaining the position of gon-chūnagon [権中納言] (provisional or supernumerary Minister of the Center) in 1232.  Sadaie finally retired and took the tonsure the following year.

    The Hyakunin-isshu was compiled during his retirement, and completed around 1235.

‡In addition to his own selections, poems were also submitted for consideration by his former colleagues and others.  It appears that Sadaie's idea was to have the poems presented to the selection committee in a uniform manner, so that details like calligraphy or presentation (which might give away the identity of the person who submitted the poem) would not influence their decisions.  His desire was that the poems should be assessed on their own merits alone.  After the selection process, the shikishi bearing the rejected submissions were destroyed, and the hundred shikishi that remained were treated as described above.

**This occurred during Jōō’s lifetime, at which time several of the shikishi were mounted by him as hanging scrolls -- though whether he was the person responsible for scavenging Sadaie’s byōbu or not is unclear.  What is certain is that it was Jōō who was the first person to have mounted these shikishi as scrolls -- and this marked the first time that something that was not a Buddhist-themed painting or a bokuseki [墨跡] was ever used for chanoyu.

⁵In the second zé [則]* of the Wú-mén-guān [無門關] (Japanese, Mumonkan), we read the following story (as narrated by the great Chán monk Bǎizhàng Huáihǎi [百丈懷海; circa 720 ~ 814], Hyakujō E-kai in Japanese):  

when Bǎizhàng came to deliver his regular lectures [to the monks of the temple], an old man also came into the hall with the rest; and when the others left, he also went out.  So one day the master [Bǎizhàng] asked [the old man], “you who are standing before me†, why do you continue to return [to my lectures]?”  The old man said “I am not a human being.  In the past, during the time of Jiāshè-fó [迦葉佛]‡, I was a monk living [on] this mountain. In these circumstances, a [certain] scholar** asked [me] ‘a man of great sādhanā*††, is he bound by cause and effect or not?’  I replied ‘there is no cause and effect.’  And so I sank into five hundred lives as a wild fox.  ‘Now please, hé-shàng‡‡, reveal the [true] answer’ the changeling fox entreated:  ‘the man of great sādhanā, is he bound by cause and effect or not?’ The master replied, ‘[he] does not forget about cause and effect.’  After the old man heard these words, he attained a great enlightenment.  [....]”

    “He does not forget about cause and effect.”  It is the same with the things we are taught as we avidly pursue an understanding of chanoyu:  even when we transcend them, even when we no longer appear to be bound by them, we still should not forget them.  Because, during the learning process, they should have become internalized, have become part of us; and so our self-expression is ultimately shaped by and through them. __________ *Zé [則], in this context, means an example, a case.  The chapters in Buddhist books such as this are each examples of situations that the monks are supposed to dissect and digest.

†More literally, “you who are standing before my face” -- that is, you who are in my immediate presence.

‡Jiāshè-fó [迦葉佛] was the transliterated name (into classical Chinese) of the Buddha Kāśyapa [काश्यप], the sixth of the seven ancient Buddhas (Śākyamuni, the Buddha Siddhartha Gautama, being the last of the seven).  The correlation to the Sanskrit sounds is lost in Mandarin.

**In Chinese, the word xué-rén [學人] means a scholar, a learned person -- not a student, as the Japanese commentators usually interpret it.  In other words, this quisitor was a person of significant learning (though his field of expertise was more likely in jiào [教], the study of the Buddhist scriptures, rather than in the pursuit of Zen training), whose question was therefore seeking the monk’s insight into this profound matter (in order to clarify his own understanding of the ancient Buddhist texts).

††Sādhanā [साधना], meaning “one who, through his training, has been able to transcend his ego,” is the term represented, in Chinese, by the expression dà-xiūxíng dǐrén [大修行底人].

    Sekida and Grimstone translate it as “a man of enlightenment” in their work, Two Zen Classics:  Mumonkan and Hekiganroku (John Weatherhill, Inc., New York and Tokyo, 1977; ISBN 0-8348-0131-0).

‡‡Hé-shàng [和尚, pronounced oshō in Japanese (which means preceptor or priestly teacher), is the term of respect employed when addressing (or speaking about) a Buddhist monk (especially one of a certain rank or standing within the temple hierarchy).  Bǎizhàng was a highly esteemed Zen master in his day.

⁶This source was supposed to have been (or been based on) an authenticated Jōō holograph (this document, which is known only from Sekishū’s copy*, was clearly different from the Matsu-ya manuscript).

    Whether Sekishū was able to view the actual document, written by Jōō’s own hand, or a facsimile (or other) copy†, is unknown. ___________ *As has been explained before, Sadamasa began to loose faith in the teachings of the Sen family as more and more differences between their teachings and those found in Rikyū’s and Jōō’s authentic writings came to light (Katagiri Sadamasa had been initiated into the practice of chanoyu by Kuwayama Sōsen [桑山宗仙; 1560 ~ 1632], the first disciple of Sen no Dōan:  Dōan and Sōsen were the principal commentators on Uesugi Kenshin’s copy of the Chanoyu san-byak’ka jō [茶湯三百箇條], which was regarded to be one of Jōō’s principal contributions to the theoretical foundations of chanoyu), starting around the middle of the seventeenth century.  And since Rikyū was always deferential in his references to Jōō’s teachings, Sekishū came to the conclusion that Jōō must have been the true master.  He therefore undertook, through his agents in Izumi, to search out authentic examples of Jōō’s writings from people who had lived in the Sakai of the mid-sixteenth century, which he asked to be forwarded to him in Edo for his inspection.  Though whether these documents were truly originals, or facsimile (or other handwritten) copies, or even pure fabrications (that were made in order to earn the monetary reward that Sadamasa was offering for manuscripts) cannot be ascertained today (since Sekishū does not seem to have made any notes on his determinations regarding the provenance of the documents that were preserved in his several archives -- in Tōkyō, and at the Jiko-in [慈光院] in Yamato Ko-izumi in Nara -- and all of these papers appear to be in his own handwriting).

†As has been explained earlier in this series of translations, during that period, people often made copies that were as true to the original document as possible -- including using the same kind of paper and replicating the handwriting found on the original exactly.  Often this was so successfully done that, placed side by side, it is impossible to visually determine which was the original and which was the copy.

    This art appears to have begun falling out of favor during the early Edo period, with the appearance of block-printed manuscript-style editions (which early on gave up any pretense at actually reproducing the handwriting of the original author -- as the original author’s style of penmanship became increasing out-of-date -- preferring, instead, a flowing cursive style that was easier for the contemporary customers, for whom the books were being produced, to read).

⁷Since the oldest known copy of this poem is the one in Katagiri Sadamasa’s handwriting, which was archived without any documentation of its source, it is impossible to speculate over its authenticity -- especially since no corresponding version of this poem appears in any of Jōō’s or Rikyū’s manuscript collections of the Hundred Poems.

    That said, it appears that at least some of the commentators are aware of the contents of this version (though probably from the collection that was published in conjunction with the Sekishū archives, rather than an independent source), since they often give a rather “Buddhist” interpretation* of the text found in the Sen family archives -- even though that version conforms with the version that is found in Sansai’s Kyūshū manuscript. ___________ *For example (translating from a fairly representative Japanese blog post that discusses the Hundred Poems):  “as long as you rely on books, you will not be able to reach a state of enlightenment.  The essential points and [a detailed knowledge of the] technical skills are not written in books.  These things can [only] be passed down orally.”

    Unfortunately, the poem actually says that it is precisely these sorts of teachings that are necessary for the beginner to discard, if he is ever to find his own true chanoyu.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 92.

〽 Chanoyu ni ha ume kan-giku ni kibami-ochi          ao-dake kare-ki akatsuki-no-shimo

    [茶の湯には梅寒菊に黃葉落          靑竹枯木曉の霜].

    “As for chanoyu, the ume [and] the kan-giku, together with the falling yellow leaves: the green bamboo, the leafless tree [in winter], [and] the hoarfrost at dawn.”

    Ume kan-giku ni [梅寒菊に]¹:  the ume [梅]², Prunus mume, is the first flower to bloom, usually commencing its season around, or up to a week or ten days before, the Lunar New Year; the kan-giku [寒菊], Chrysanthemum indicum var.hibernum, a small-flowered chrysanthemum with yellow or white blossoms³ that has the unique feature of leaves that can turn red in early winter, is the last flower to bloom⁴.  The particle ni [に] associates these two flowers with what follows.

    Kibami-ochi [黃葉落ち]⁵ means the falling yellow (= colored) leaves.

    Ao-dake [靑竹] means green bamboo⁶; kare-ki [枯木] means a dried (in this context, referring to a leafless) tree (in winter); and akatsuki-no-shimo [曉の霜] means the hoarfrost that is seen at dawn⁷.

    So, rather than telling us anything specific (that can be used as a guide by the beginner), Sansai, instead, gives us a selection of images from nature -- seasonal, but fleeting.

    The ume contrasts with the kan-giku because, as stated above, these are the first and last flowers to bloom every year; and these flowers (which are vital, and so yang) are contrasted with the falling leaves of late autumn (which are dying, and so embody what is yin⁸).

    Likewise, the green bamboo (yang) is being compared with the leafless trees (yin), both of which are nevertheless substantial; and these, in turn, are contrasted with the hoarfrost, which is transient, ephemeral⁹.

    So, Sansai seems to be saying that an effective chanoyu should be a vehicle that embodies all of these things:  it should be yin, it should be yang; it should be lasting, and also fleeting and temporary.  But we must also consider that the yin might be found within the yang, and yang within the yin¹⁰.  So, rather than being simply a study in contrasts (as many argue), this poem suggests that it is our job to unify these disparate elements, bring them together, and use this as the foundation for our gatherings.

    As with the previous poem, this verse seems to have been composed, and added to the collection, by Hosokawa Sansai -- since it is found only in the scrolls that came from his hand, and the collections of the Hundred Poems that are preserved by the Sen families.

    Many commentators seem to associate this poem specifically with the kuchi-kiri chaji [口切茶事] -- the gathering, at the beginning of the ro season, when the cha-tsubo [茶壺] is cut open, and the new tea (that was processed and packed into the jar in May) is served.  But this way of understanding Poem 92 (along with the word chaji [茶事] itself¹¹, as a name for the tea gathering) is both anachronistic, and inconsistent¹².  Other tea scholars appear to associate it with the idea of in-yō go-gyō [陰陽五行]¹³; though this body of teachings is even more distant in time to the chanoyu of Jōō’s and Rikyū’s period.

_________________________

¹Some Japanese read ume-kan-giku [梅寒菊] as a single word, interpreting it to be a variety of chrysanthemum with wider petals (reminiscent of the ume); but this is mistaken.  The reference is to two separate flowers -- the ume [梅] (Prunus mume), and the winter-flowering kan-giku [寒菊] (Chrysanthemum indicum var.hibernum).

²The name ume [梅] is variously translated as Japanese plum, or Japanese flowering apricot.

    Since the Heian period, ume have come in two basic colors -- white and pink.  Hybrids created since the Edo period have extended both the range (deep pink bordering on red cultivars are now found) and shape (in addition to the original single flowered forms, shown above, semi-double and fully double blossoms, resembling miniature cherry blossoms, have also been created).

    Traditionally the Japanese say that the pink ume is treasured for its color, while the white kind is appreciated for its fragrance.

    White ume is most commonly used at night gatherings, in deference to the ancient poets*. ___________ *For example, the poem by Ariwara no Narihira [在原業平; 825 ~ 880],

〽 ts’ki ya aranu haru ya mukashi no haru naranu          waga-mi hitotsu ha moto no mi ni shite

    [月やあらぬ春や昔の春ならぬ          わが身ひとつはもとの身にして],

    “Is the moon different? yet the spring, it's not the same spring it was in the past:  and I, alone, remain the same [as I was then].“

    This poem is said (in the prose section that accompanies this verse in the Ise monogatari [伊勢物語], and which provides it with context) to have been inspired by the (white) plum blossoms in the moonlit courtyard of an abandoned western wing of the Ōkisaki-no-miya [大后の宮] (this mansion is commonly referred to as the Go-jō-higashi tō-in [五條東洞院]; it was the residence of the Imperial Consort Fujiwara no Nobuko [藤原順子; 809 ~ 871], mother of the Emperor Montoku [文徳天皇]) where his lover lived the year before, while “the young man” (i.e., Narihira) sits on the veranda, lost in thought and longing.  (In some versions, the word for spring -- haru [春] -- is replaced by the word for flowers -- hana [花], with “flowers” referring directly to the white plum blossoms.)

    This verse is also quoted, as the fourth (or fifth) poem in book 15 (the fifth book of “Love Poems”), in the Ko-kin waka shū [古今和歌集].

³While white-flowering kan-giku also exist, the Japanese seem to prefer the yellow-flowered variety (shown below) -- possibly because it is the more likely to develop crimson-red leaves in early winter.

    This flower is often used for chabana* when the buds are still fully closed (oftentimes even before they begin to show any color), with only the lower leaves on the stem displaying their rich red color. ___________ *Kan-giku is often used at the beginning of the ro season, either during the ro-biraki [爐開き] or kuchi-kiri [口切] gathering.  It is because of this that some people insist that this poem is referring specifically to chakai held at that time of year.

⁴See, for example, the famous couplet by the Tang literatus and government official Yuán Zhěn [元 稹]:

bù-shì huā zhōng piān ài jú cǐ huā kāi jìn gēng wú huā

[不是花中偏愛菊 此花開盡更無花].

    “I don’t know that, among [the different kinds of] flowers [I] love only the chrysanthemum; but once this flower's blooming is ended, there are no [more] flowers.” ___________ *He is also known as  Wēizhī [微之].

⁵While kibami-ochi [黃葉落ち] seems to be the preferred reading, at least according to the various commentaries that discuss this poem, the phrase could also be pronounced momiji-ochi [黃葉落ち = 紅葉落ち].

⁶For the first 18 months, as the clum matures, it remains a dark green color.

     Though this poem is referring to the ao-dake itself (as a stand of bamboo growing in nature), the clums, at this stage, are easy to work, since the cell structure has not fully hardened.  For this reason, green bamboo is often used for temporary purposes (in other words, until it begins to dry out and turn gray) in chanoyu.

    Sōtan, for example, preferred to make his futaoki from ao-dake*; and he often added lengths of green bamboo to the fence that separated the inner from the outer roji., and many commentators point out that it is in anticipation of the opening of the irori that the fence surrounding the middle-gate (chū-mon [中門]) is refreshed with green bamboo -- reinforcing (in their minds) the association of this poem with the kuchi-kiri no chakai. ___________ *Sōtan seems to have had a water fetish, and liked to drip water from the hishaku onto the mat as he moved it from the mizusashi to the kama.  To keep it fresh, the ao-dake futaoki has to be kept soaking in water until it is time to use it on the utensil mat.  As a result, it invariably leaves a discolored ring in the corner of the mat next to the ro when it is taken away at the end of the temae.

    While it can be argued that Sōtan originally did these things in a deliberate effort to discourage the bakufu from nominating him to a position of prominence and influence (at least in the context of chanoyu) similar to that held by Rikyū under Hideyoshi, the fact is that he eventually included these elements in the formulation of his “poverty tea” aesthetic.

⁷This kind of frost, forming out of atmospheric moisture, is so fragile that it begins to sublimate as soon as the sunlight touches it.

⁸Another way to think about the image of the falling colored leaves is that the dying leaves represent the yin, but yin that is embraced by the yang (the action of falling).

⁹Jōō and Rikyū exclusively used the word chakai [茶會]* to refer to their tea gatherings.  

    Chaji [茶事] was not used until the Edo period -- apparently in an effort to make these gatherings appear more mysterious or secretive, or in some way different from the large public affairs (that were still being called chakai). ___________ *Jōō appears to have adapted this name from the Shino family’s kō-kai [香會].

¹⁰This idea is similar to the Buddhist understanding of the expression wa-kei-sei-jaku [和敬静寂], where wa [和]* represents the samādhi of action (“positive” samādhi), and jaku [寂]† is the samādhi of repose ( “absolute” samādhi).  These are the polar opposites, represented by practices like Buddhist chanting, and seated meditation, respectively.

    Kei [敬] is the state where jaku has penetrated into wa -- within self-sufficiency we find the quieting of desire, so we take nothing more than what we need (this is the meaning of “respect‡”); while sei [静]**, peacefulness, is when wa interpenetrates jaku -- from within our (absolute) samādhi, our mind opens to embrace and become one with the whole of creation.

    As a way of training in samādhi, chanoyu partakes neither exclusively of wa, nor exclusively of jaku.  Rather, it incorporates both these extremes, and their means, into a single, unified, practice.  This is the same goal as the collection of contrasting images that Sansai reveals to us in his poem, and the reason why chanoyu can be considered a method of Buddhist practice -- a way to cultivate a samādhi that will be open to every experience. ___________ *The kanji wa [和] depicts a fruiting rice-plant (“禾”) growing just outside one’s door (“口”).  Thus, it means to be self-sufficient, complete within oneself, the embodiment of “positive” samādhi:  the idea of “harmony” or “peace” arises from this absence of want (since want is the thing that inevitably leads to conflict).

†Jaku [寂], which means (to be) still, silent, quiet, is supposed to represent the mental state of a monk at the moment of his death:  the ego is repudiated, stilled; the ego is silenced, extinguished.  To the true monk, death happens every moment.  This is living in samādhi.

‡We do honor to our food, for example, by taking no more than we need.  We are satisfied, but we do not waste anything.

**In the context of chanoyu, the third kanji is usually written with the homophonic sei [淸], meaning purity or cleanliness.  The quieted ego achieved in absolute samādhi looks out onto the world from a state of internal purity.

¹¹And, as in footnote 8, the image is not just the hoarfrost (shimo [霜]), but the hoarfrost that is dawn (akatsuki-no-shimo [曉の霜]).  The hoarfrost itself is yin, but it is hoarfrost that is being enveloped by the dawn (yang).

¹²The Hundred Poems canon consists of a series of poems that were intended to provide the beginner with a general guide to the practice of chanoyu.  As such, poems that refer to very specific tea gatherings (in the modern sense of the idea, where the chajin is expected to adhere to a calendar of specified observances that are to be celebrated throughout the year), especially when they do not provide any useful guidance to the beginner, would be inconsistent with the general purpose of the Chanoyu hyaku-shu.

¹³A philosophical idea that appears to be based on a combination of certain teachings found in the (purportedly*) late-Tang period Chá jīng [茶經], and other classical Chinese texts†, which were introduced en masse to the Japanese tea world, via Korea, in the waning years of the Edo period‡.  While it is usually said that Rikyū followed these teachings (some go so far as to say that he originated them), such assertions are anachronistic.

    In-yō [陰陽] means yin and yang (where, as the drawing on the left shows, a superabundance of one engenders the naissance of the other); and go-gyō [五行] referring to the five elements (wood [木], fire [火], earth [土], metal [金], and water [水], arranged in a circle as on the right), and how they morph into each other (a theory known as the “five states of change”:  as the arrows indicate,  wood changes to earth, earth changes to water, water changes to fire, fire changes to metal, and metal changes to wood).

   Put very simply, the idea of applying this concept of in-yō go-gyō to chanoyu was seemingly inspired by the arrangement of the tatami in a spiral configuration, in the 4.5-mat room**.  The mats were correlated with the five elements (go-gyō), the cardinal directions, and the seasons, as indicated††.

    In the early days, the daisu was displayed in the shoin, with the nanatsu-kazari [七つ飾]‡‡ assembled on the ji-ita, and the chawan and chaire arranged on the ten-ita.  The daisu, and the arrangement of objects on its two shelves, were understood to manifest the teachings of yin and yang and the five elements.

   The daisu itself has a ji-ita (yin), representing the earth (kon [坤]); and a ten-ita (yang), which represents heaven (ken [乾]).  The ten-ita is supported by four legs (hashira [柱]), which represent the four seasons of the annual cycle*** (spring, haru [春]; summer, natsu [夏]; autumn, aki [秋]; and winter, fuyu [冬]).  With respect to yin and yang, water, earth, and metal (and their corresponding seasons and directions) are yin, while fire and wood (and their seasons and directions) are yang.

   On the ji-ita, as mentioned above, are arranged the seven utensils, which are variously representative of wood (the hishaku), earth (the furo†††), metal (the kama), fire (the charcoal in the furo), and water (in the mizusashi).  The furo, on the left, is yang; and the mizusashi, on the right, is yin.  On the ten-ita, the chawan (which is yin, because the matcha is put into it) is placed above the fire (yang), and the chaire (which is yang because the matcha comes out of it) is placed above the water (yin), preserving the relationship of yin and yang from top to bottom, and left to right.    The furo is yang (because it sits on top of the mat), and the ro is yin (because it is recessed below the mat).  But the irori also represents the five elements, with the wood of the ro-buchi [爐緣], the (charcoal) fire, the clay walls of the ro-dan [爐壇], the kama (metal), and the water in the kama.

    It will be noted that this is simply a system of identities.  There was never any attempt to explain the actions of the temae as being governed by the series of transformations (of wood into earth, earth into water, and so forth) -- the way, for example tai-yō [躰用] was explained as a series of substitutions‡‡‡.

    The concept of in-yō go-gyō in chanoyu was fully developed by Urasenke’s 11th generation Iemoto Gengensai Sōshitsu [玄々齋宗室; 1810 ~ 1877] and his disciples; and anyone interested in pursuing a deeper understanding of these teachings should refer to Gengensai’s writings, as well as those of his descendants and their disciples****. ___________ *The Chá jīng [茶經] first appeared in public during the eighteenth century, as a block-printed facsimile edition.  While idiomatically it appears to have been written in the Ching dialect of Chinese, the first words, on the first page (in a librarian’s stamp indicating how the book was to be cataloged), note that it is a Song period text.

    The earliest known manuscript, however, was a single Ming period copy of the Song holograph.  This document was partially destroyed when the Imperial Library was burned down during the troubles that were precipitated by Hideyoshi’s attempted invasion of the continent in 1592.  This fragment was restored (though how that would have been possible, since there was only one extant version of the text that was now partly lost, is unclear), and then published as a fascimile edition.

    A reproduction of the facsimile was printed in the nineteenth century by the Zhào-kuàng-gé [照曠閣] publishing house in Jiangsu:  this edition added five pages of text to the end of the book (and it is here that the first attribution of the monograph to Lu Yu [陸羽; 733 ~ 804], and details of its history of transmission, are to be found).  It is important to note that subsequent editions, while retaining these additional five pages of text, fail to distinguish between the addition and the original material.

†The roots of this theory can be traced back to the Earlier Han Dynasty (Qián-hàn [前漢; 206 BCE ~ 8 CE]; also known as the Xī-hàn [西漢] or Western Han Dynasty).

    The changes and correlations appear to be largely based on the Chinese arrangement of the bāguà [八卦], the eight trigrams upon which the transitions documented in the Yì-jīng [易經] are based.

‡From the beginning of the Ching dynasty (which ruled concomitantly with the Ming dynasty -- until both were simultaneously overthrown in the early years of the 20th century), there was a general objection to the notion of the Chinese nation being ruled by “foreigners.”  In order to counteract this negativity, the Ching dynasty began a propaganda campaign during the eighteenth century that was aimed at spreading the idea that the Ching were the true heritors and champions of traditional Chinese culture.  As part of this effort, a large number of antique texts (some dating back to the Han dynasty) were published and disseminated nationally -- many of which made their way to Japan, usually through Korea, during the last decades of the Tokugawa bakufu., and which, in turn, became fundamental to the developing Japanese perception of their place, and the place of their culture, in the history of the world.

**The problem here is that the arrangement of mats shown above was not original, but came into being only after Jōō created the ro, during his middle period.

    In earlier times, the configuration of the tatami in the 4.5-mat room was as shown above (with a tall chōzu-bachi [手水鉢] -- hand-washing basin -- being installed next to the veranda, so it could be accessed without the guests having to go down into the garden).  In this kind of room, the shōkyaku would have been seated on the mat in front of the dashi fu-zukue [出し文机] (the tsuke-shoin or built-in writing desk, shown at the top of this drawing).

††The cardinal directions conform with the side of the room toward which the long side of each of the four mats mat faces.  The orthodox “Rikyū-style” chashitsu always had the guests’ entrance (nijiri-guchi [躙り口]) on the north side, with the utensil mat on the east, and the guests’s seats ranged along the western wall.  The toko, and the mat on which the shōkyaku was seated, was on the south side of the room.

    As for the seasons, they are spring, summer, autumn, winter, and the doyō [土用].  The Solar year has 365 or 366 days, but the Lunar year has only 360 days.  The difference, 5 or 6 days, is called doyō.  The doyō is inserted between the end of the rainy season and the beginning of the cool weather that signals the beginning of autumn.

‡‡The term nanatsu-kazari [七つ飾] refers to the seven utensils that are arranged on the ji-ita of the daisu:  the furo, the kama, the mizusashi, the shaku-tate, the hishaku, the mizu-koboshi, and the futaoki.  In classical times, the collection of objects included in this list was a closely-held secret.

***More commonly, the four hashira are designated by the seasons, rather than the cardinal directions (to which they do not obviously align).  While this might seem mysterious in the case of the shin-daisu, the rationale becomes clearer when we consider the ji-ita of the take-daisu.

    Here we see that the grain (moku-me [木目]) runs from spring to summer to autumn to winter.  This is why the way the way the ji-ita is orientated on the mat is important.  (The ten-ita is usually oriented in the opposite direction.  But since the hashira are not visible, it is unimportant to our argument.)

†††The original furo was the bronze kimen-buro [鬼面風爐], while that used on the daisu by Urasenke is a black-lacquered mayu-buro [眉風爐] -- in keeping with the machi-shū tradition of the sixteenth century -- indicating that this theory of in-yō go-gyō was developed, at least in part, to give a sense of legitimacy to their preferred usage. 

‡‡‡Tai-yō [躰用] refers to the way one object that is already present on the utensil mat is used to guide the placement of the next object.  For example, the chaire is placed in front of the mizusashi, and then the chawan takes its position relative to the chaire.  Jōō held that tai-yō was introduced by Shukō.

****There was a certain revival of interest in the teachings and practice of in-yō go-gyō during the second half of the 20th century (and into the early years of the 21st century), so sources (including many that may be found online) are readily available.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 91.

〽 Cha ha sabite kokoro ha atsuku mote-nase yo          dōgu ha itsu mo ari-au ni seyo

    [茶は寂びて心は厚く持てなせよ          道具は何時も有り合うにせよ].

    “[Your] tea should be mellow, [your] heart should be warm and hospitable [toward your guests]; and on every occasion the utensils should also be [just] what [you] happen to have on hand.”

    Idiomatically speaking, this poem is clearly a product of the Edo period, using several expressions that are not really found (at least in the context of chanoyu) before the middle of the seventeenth century.

     Sabite [寂びて]:  the verb sabiru [寂びる] means to become mellowed with age.  As an aesthetic term, it seems to have originally been used to describe the “slightly thick or scratchy¹” voice an elderly person uses when intoning a poem -- a voice that is affable, while still implying decades of practice and training behind it.  During the seventeenth century, as chanoyu was more and more becoming regarded as a sort of performance art, it came to be applied to the way a mature practitioner performs their temae -- determinately, and with self-assurance, yet seemingly without conscious thought.

    Mote-nase yo [持てなせよ]:  the expression mote-nasu [持てなす] means to be hospitable, to make (the guest) feel welcome; the particle yo [よ] adds emphasis, indicating certainty (that this is how the guests are to be received).  In recent years the expression mote-nashi [持て成し] has become popular in the world of chanoyu, indicating a style of tea that, rather than focusing on a strict adherence to the rules², is more relaxed and friendly and inviting.

    Dōgu ha itsu mo ari-au ni se yo [道具は何時も有り合うにせよ]:  “with respect to the utensils” (dōgu ha [道具は]), “on every occasion” (itsumo [何時も]), “whatever you happen to have on hand will suffice” (ari-au ni seyo [有り合うにせよ]).  In other words, one should not go out and buy (or borrow) new utensils, or spend hours constructing the tori-awase in order to impress the guests.  Whatever you happen to have on hand, those things will suffice -- because the point is to receive your guests with sincerity and a sense of hospitality, and serve them tea in a way that makes everyone feel relaxed and comfortable.

    This poem, which was probably composed and added to the collection by Hosokawa Sansai, was carefully preserved in the Sen family archives.

_________________________

¹It is rather difficult to describe this kind of voice in English.  Rather than a sharp, bell-like clarity, the Japanese ear prefers a thicker and less focused tone that is characteristic of an older person’s voice.  (In the West, when a person’s voice evolves into this state, they usually retire from giving public performances!)

²Rules became fixed and rigid in the early 20th century, in response to the influx of young women.  The idea was to train them to be proper hostesses (and wives).  By the end of the century, this form of excessively strict approach was being rejected -- in favor of a more relaxed and inviting approach to chanoyu.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 90.

〽 Mizu to yu to chakin chasen ni hashi yōji          hishaku to kokoro atarashii yoshi

    [水と湯と茶巾茶筌に箸楊枝          柄杓と心新しい善し].

    “The cold water and the hot water, and it is [likewise] the case with the chakin and the chasen, the chopsticks, the yōji, and the hishaku -- and [one’s] heart, too -- that it is best if these are all new [every time tea is served].”

    Jōō’s original holograph of these dō-ka [道歌]¹, and the collection circulated among his disciples by Rikyū², had only 88 or 89 verses.  So it is from this point that we turn our attention to the series of ten or so poems that were not written by either Jōō or Rikyū, poems that were inserted into the collection by Hosokawa Sansai and other chajin of his generation³.

    Since water is easily tainted by anything that can leach out of the inner surface of the containers in which it is stored for any length of time, the cold water (mizu [水]) and the hot water (yu [湯]) naturally need to be as close to freshly drawn as possible.

    The chakin, chasen, hashi [箸]⁴ (with which the meal is eaten), the yōji [楊枝]⁵ (used when eating the omogashi), and the hishaku: all of these are single-use implements⁶, and so they should always be fresh and new every time we serve tea to our guests.  This is nothing new -- at least not to anyone who is familiar with Jōō’s and Rikyū’s writings.  But the inclusion of the host’s heart, or mind, this is something different -- and the idea that one should constantly repudiate the old ego, and thereby renew or refresh one’s mind, one’s approach, one’s way of thinking, this is an attitude unique to Zen⁷, and to the chanoyu of the Edo period.

    Since the Sen families’ versions appear to have been copied from one of Sansai’s manuscripts, it is to be expected that they would agree with his version of this poem⁸.

_________________________

¹Dō-ka [道歌] are poems that teach or reveal some important aspect of the Way.  Usually written for the edification of beginners, they are mnemonic devices that will help him remember these points, so he can mindfully incorporate them into his daily practice.

²Poem for poem, Rikyū’s 1580 version is virtually identical to the text of Jōō’s Matsu-ya manuscript -- that is, Rikyū’s collection contains no verses that are not also found in the other.  The only difference is that in 6 or 7 cases there is enough change in the meaning that it appears that the changes are deliberate -- that RIkyū was intentionally altering Jōō’s wording in order to expand or apply his teachings to circumstances that had not occurred to the master.  These versions will be considered in the final section of this translation (along with poems that were added by people other than Rikyū or Hosokawa Sansai), since that seems to be the best way to do them justice.

³Given that poem 90 is found in both the Kyūshū manuscript, as well as the archives of both Omotesenke and Urasenke, it is safe to assume that it was added (and probably composed) by Hosokawa Sansai.  Certainly it reflects the “philosophical” aspect of chanoyu that was introduced, and advocated, by the Korean monk Takuan Sōhō [澤庵宗彭; 1573? ~ 1645] around the middle of the seventeenth century, and which became a characteristic featire of Sansai’s approach to chanoyu* during his latter years. ___________ *Perhaps because he came from Korea, Sansai (and many of the chajin and Buddhist monks of his generation) seems to have looked on Takuan as a sort of father-figure, despite his having been 10 years older than the monk.

⁴The hashi [箸], chopsticks, used in chanoyu are usually made from aka-sugi [赤杉], an especially fragrant variety of red cryptomeria wood*.

    These chopsticks are often referred to as Rikyū-bashi [利休箸]; and they are shaped the way they are so that both ends can be used to pick up food†. ___________ *Common cryptomeria, usually from Siberia, was traditionally used to make lead pencils -- and smells like pencil shavings.  This wood is also a little darker, grayer in color.

†For example, when one kind of food has a strong sauce, the other end can be used to pick up the next food, so it will not be contaminated by the smell or taste of the other.

⁵Today the word yōji [楊枝] is encountered infrequently in the world of chanoyu.

    It has been largely replaced by the term kuromoji [黒文字] -- which is actually the name of the wood* from which these rustic yōji are whittled. ___________ *The allspice bush, Lindera umbellata.

⁶It should be mentioned that in Jōō’s and Rikyū’s period, the fukusa, and even the chashaku, too, were considered single-use objects*.  But by the Edo period, these things were being routinely reused -- the fukusa, because Rikyū’s “fukusa” (meaning the little purple-dyed furoshiki with which he tied the containers of gift tea closed, first used as a temae-fukusa by Furuta Sōshitsu) ceased to be made after his death, making them essentially relics; while the chashaku made by him (and other famous chajin) were now being revered in their own right†, and, indeed, had mostly become separated from the chaire for which they were originally made), in total disregard of Rikyū’s original intentions. ___________ *At the urging of Furuta Sōshitsu, Rikyū came to conclude that the hishaku could be used several times without objection, so long as its cup had not become discolored by the iron from the kama, or the handle was dirty.  Thus, the teachings expressed in this poem have more to do with the Edo period’s values -- where chanoyu was an exceptional experience, rather than something that was a part of the chajin’s daily life -- which would be anachronistic if we were to attempt to understand the thinking of Jōō and Rikyū through them.

†Rather than being seen as the examples that he intended them to be.

    For Rikyū, each chashaku was made for one specific chaire.  So when people sent him their treasures and asked him to make a chashaku for them, his intention was to show them how it should be made for use with that chaire -- so that they could make their own in the future (since, originally, the chashaku was supposed to be used only one time, or at least not after it began to become dirty).  As with the chakin, chasen, and fukusa, the idea was to prevent the previous tea from contaminating the tea that would be served the next time (even if it was the same variety of tea, the matcha that had infiltrated into these things during the previous session would have oxidized, and so changed in flavor and aroma, and this would alter the taste and smell of the tea that was offered to the guests on the next occasion).

    As a result, there is no such thing as a “Rikyū chashaku,” and nothing can be understood about his chashaku at all -- not their length nor the width of the piece of bamboo, nor the angle of the bowl nor the bend at the middle of the handle -- apart from their being considered in the context the chaire for which they were carved.

⁷Chanoyu was originally a product of the Ichi-nen ikkō-shū [一向一念宗], the sect of Amidist Pure Land Buddhism that originated in (or at least was associated with) the Bulgog-sa [불국사 = 佛國寺] in Gyeongju, South Korea (though chanoyu itself likely originated in the Ssang-gye-sa [쌍계사 = 雙磎寺], or one of its sub-temples around Hadong, in the southeast of the peninsula) -- the dangerous thought that precipitated the overthrow of the Goryeo dynasty (in 1402).

    Acting on the principal that all are equal once a single recitation of the nenbutsu [念佛]* has been made, its followers therefore believed that taking what already exists†, and using that as a stepping stone by means of which to step up into the state of samādhi, wherein one will find liberation from the cycle of saṃsāra, was the correct approach. This is very different from the advocation of impermanence emphasized by the Zen approach, wherein discarding the old ego (and the trappings of the old life) is necessarily the first step toward finding it anew in a purified state.

    It was starting with Takuan Sōhō that people began to say that “tea and Zen have the same ‘taste’” (cha-Zen ichi-mi [茶禪一味]). ___________ *Intoning the phrase namu Amida-butsu [南無阿彌陀佛] (or namu Amida-bul in Korean [남무아미타불]).

†In other words, using things or facets of ordinary daily life -- such as preparing and drinking tea, or arranging a viewing stone in a tray of sand and then contemplating it -- as stepping stones by means of which we can be uplifted into samādhi.

⁸The only difference is that, while Sansai wrote the word chasen in part with kana (as chasen [茶せん]) in the Kyūshū manuscript, other copies from his brush represent it fully with kanji (as chasen [茶筅]), as seen in the Sen family collections.

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The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 89.

〽 Tsurube-koso te ha tate ni oke futa tora-ba          kama ni chika-zuku-kata to shiru-beshi

    [釣甁こそ手は竪に置け蓋取らば          釜に近付方と知るべし].

    “[Speaking] specifically about the tsurube, it should be placed so that the handle is [oriented] front-to-back; [and] when the lid is taken up, you should understand that it should be on the  side that is closest to the kama.”

    The tsurube was the traditional container in which water was carried from the well to the mizuya¹, with a pair of tsurube² attached (by cords) to the opposite ends of a shoulder-pole, whereby they would be transported from the well.

     Tsurube-koso [釣甁こそ] means that this poem is specifically (-koso [こそ]) addressing the special handling accorded the kiji-tsurube when it is used as a mizusashi³.  This makes it clear that all of the teachings articulated or implied by this poem should not be applied to other mizusashi that have an overarching handle -- such as the te-oke.  The orientation where the handle extends from front to back (and the consequent way that the lid has to be dealt with) is unique to the context of the tsurube.

    According to Rikyū, and unlike what is supposed to be done in the case of any other mizusashi⁴, the host walks onto the utensil mat when he is carrying the tsurube, and then squats down in order to lower it into its place.  And, at the end of the temae, the tsurube should be left in place on the utensil mat⁵.

    Futa tora-ba kama ni chika-zuku-kata to shiru-beshi [置け蓋取らば釜に近付方と知るべし]:  here we are looking at the way the tsurube is handled during the temae.

    The half-lids of the tsurube come in two different types.  One is simply a rectangular piece of wood, one or two bu larger than the mouth of the vessel on one side.  But the other, which is the same size, has a projecting tab that fits into the hole in the handle (through which the cord that ties it to the shoulder-pole is passed).

    This tab both insures that the water is completely protected from the outside air during transport, and also locks that half-lid in place -- since the way the lid is opened is by sliding the lid forward⁶ until it clears the front of the tsurube, moving it horizontally to the other side of the handle, and then sliding that lid on top of the other (fixed) lid.  In order to do things in the most efficient manner, the free lid should always be located on the side of the handle closest to the kama:  when the kama is on the left, it is the right lid that is opened; when it is on the right, then the right lid is opened.

    Because the lid is simply moved horizontally, this mizusashi -- and contrary to what is possible in the case of all other miusashi -- can be opened and closed while the chakin remains in its place on the lid⁷.

    Here, as is not infrequently the case, Jōō’s original wording differs to a certain extent from Hosokawa Sansai’s recollection:

〽 tsurube wo ba te ha tate ni oki futa ha mata          kumu-kata torite waki ni kasane yo

    [釣瓶をば手は竪におきふたは又          くむかたとりて脇にかさねよ].

    “With respect to the tsurube, it is placed with the handle [oriented] front-to-back; [and] regarding the lid, once again it is taken up on the side from which [the water] will be dipped, and stacked atop [the lid] on the [other] side!”

    Futa ha mata kumu-kata torite [蓋は又汲み方取りて] means “regarding the lid” (futa ha [蓋は]), “once again” (mata [又]), “on the side from where [water] will be dipped” (kumi-kata torite [汲み方取りて])....

    Waki ni kasane yo [脇に重ねよ]:  “on the (other) side” (waki ni [脇に])  (the lid) is stacked (kasane yo [重ねよ]).  The construction mata...yo [又...よ] gives this statement emphasis, or makes it imperative -- something that must be done.

    Jōō is essentially saying the same thing -- to people in the know -- while also keeping the teaching secret from the casual interloper.  People who have not invested themselves in the practice, those who have not committed to embarking on the Way, have no right to expect to be spoon-fed the details.  So while the two versions basically offer the student the same teaching, Jōō and Rikyū refrain from mindlessly flinging the secrets out to the masses (where they can be used to give a façade of respectability to the temae of people who are not deserving of it).

_________________________

¹In other words, contrary to what is stated in many books and articles written in English, the tsurube was not, in fact, a “well bucket.”  Rather it was a sort of intermediary container in which the well water was carried to the mizuya.

    The kiji-tsurube [木地釣瓶]* is quite buoyant, so if it were dropped into a well, it would float on the surface, making it useless for drawing water out of the well. ___________ *As this was a purely utilitarian object, there was no reason to make it any more elaborate than necessary by, for example, painting it with lacquer.

    Lacquered tsurube can be found dating back to the middle or late Edo period, but coating them with transparent, honey-colored Shunkei-nuri [春慶塗] was done in an effort to protect historically important pieces (such as a tsurube made to the specifications of one of the great chajin of the past).

    In the early 20th century, the custom also arose of so-treating the various kiji [木地, 生地] utensils -- including the tsurube -- that a (famous) chajin had used during an important chaji that they had hosted, as a way to preserve these pieces as souvenirs of that chakai (usually because chajin of that sort would order these kiji pieces to be specially made, by the most renowned craftsmen of the day; and, since, at least in theory, kiji utensils could only be used one time, the lacquer would freeze them in time, possibly even permitting them to be used again on a later occasion, with a recollection of the first time they were used playing a part in the “go-chisō” [御馳走] element of that future gathering).

²During Jōō’s middle period, two tsurube of water were considered sufficient for a gathering (when the furo was always used to serve tea).  After the creation of the ro, and the establishment of its conventions*, the number was increased to four. ___________ *When Jōō first began to use the irori, he treated it the same as he had the furo -- that is, around the time when the guests were expected to arrive, the host put a shita-bi [下火], consisting of three burning gitchō [毬杖], into the ro, with a wet kama filled with cold water suspended above the fire.  This was the form of the practice preserved by Imai Sōkyū, and perpetuated down to the present by many of the modern schools.

    Later (probably after Rikyū’s return from the continent at the beginning of 1555  -- though the timeline is unclear due to the fact that the “original sources” are mostly recopied manuscripts produced over the years, so the actual history has become muddled by anachronistic interpolations of later terminologies), as Jōō and Rikyū developed the idea of sō-an no chanoyu [草菴ノ茶湯] -- where the chashitsu was understood to be a sort of iori [庵, 菴] (hermitage), a place for the cultivation of the host’s samādhi -- the idea arose that the host should start the fire in the ro at dawn, and keep it burning, with the kama in a state of readiness to serve tea at a moment’s notice, until the tea room was closed up for the night (usually around 10:00 PM).  Since the whole day’s water would now have to be prepared at dawn, the number of tsurube brought from the well was increased to four, with the surplus water stored in a mizu-kame [水甕] (a large, usually ceramic, storage jar that was kept in the mizuya).

    In the Mozuno ko-yashiki [百舌鳥野ノ小屋敷], with the creation of the mizuya-dōko [水屋洞庫], Rikyū reduced the storage vessel to a te-oke (the bucket made of unpainted cypress wood and bamboo illustrated above, and discussed in the previous post), since this would hold sufficient water for the needs of a single chakai -- that is, to allow the host to empty the small unryū-gama and refill it with cold water during the sumi-temae -- though additional water was also kept in an ordinary mizu-kame that was placed elsewhere on the veranda that functioned as the mizuya in Rikyū’s tea rooms.

³While it was traditionally assumed that this practice of using a kiji-tsurube as one’s mizusashi was pioneered by the wabi-chajin of the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries (who did not have the funds to purchase an appropriately executed pottery vessel that they could use as their mizusashi*), or, by the modern schools, in order to give a feeling of coolness and freshness to the gathering, both of these interpretations completely miss the point.

    Water was drawn from the well (for the whole day’s chanoyu) at dawn, because overnight any dust or other debris present in the well would have settled to the bottom, leaving the water just beneath the surface as pure as possible.  As explained above, this water was drawn from the well using a well-bucket (which was usually made of pottery or metal, so it would be heavy enough to sink into the water, allowing the bucketful water to be raised free of surface dust).  From the well-bucket the water was poured into a tsurube, by means of which it was transported to the mizuya.  In the mizuya, the usual practice was to decant the water either directly into the mizusashi, or pour it into the mizu-kame, from where it was dispensed into the mizusashi when needed.  Each time the water was moved from one container to another, the risk of contamination (by dust) would rise.  By taking the tsurube out onto the utensil mat, however, the water that the host would be using to prepare tea for his guests would be as pristine as physically possible.

    The practice of using the tsurube in this way seems to have originally come into being along with the idea of using “famous” water -- meaning water of such purity that it could be used to prepare medicines -- to prepare tea.  In Kyōto city, there were three wells that were traditionally designated in this way:

◦ the Agata-i [縣井], even today within the (vastly reduced) grounds of the Kyōto gosho [京都御所], on the western side of the precinct;

◦ the Same-ga-i [佐女牛井, 醒ヶ井], on the west side of the city, just north of the Nishi-Honganji [西本願寺]; and

◦ the Some-i [染井] (or Some-i no mizu [染井水]†), on the grounds of the little Nashi-no-ki jinja [梨木神社], on the eastern side of the present Kyōto-gosho compound (and originally well within the palace grounds, near the servants’ quarters).

    Because it was the most accessible of the three wells to commoners‡, both Jōō and Rikyū occasionally used water from the Samei-ga-i during their chakai (especially when important guests were being received**).  The water was not drawn by the people desiring it, however, but by the attendants serving at the associated Shintō shrine, who drew the water at dawn, stacking a number of sealed tsurube up for people to take throughout the day.

    It seems that the custom of using a tsurube as the mizusashi arose, during Jōō’s lifetime (if not earlier), when a tsurube of this special water was taken onto the utensil mat and used just as it was, with the host cutting the paper seal (stamped by the officials at the shrine to certify its contents) in front of the eyes of his guests.  This became standard practice whenever meisui [名水] (“famous water”) is used. ___________ *Even during Jōō’s middle period, truly watertight pottery was rarely found among the native wares being fired in Japan -- so much so that Jōō advised his followers to always place a lacquered tray under such mizusashi, to prevent the leakage from damaging the utensil mat.  The mizusashi made to Jōō’s specifications by the potters at the Seto kiln, which were carefully glazed on the inside as well as out, appear to be among the first of these local products that did not require such precautions.

†The name indicates that the water from this well was used when dying the clothes and curtains for the Imperial household.  It was also from this well that water for washing and other household purposes was drawn during the centuries when the court was residing in Kyōto.

‡The precedent of using the water from this well for chanoyu is said, by some, to have been established by Shukō -- who preferentially used it when serving tea to his guests.

**Cf. Rikyū’s famous “Snowy Dawn Chakai” that is described in Book Seven of the Nampō Roku:

    “Once, at dawn, overcome with delight at [the beauty of] the snow [that had fallen through the night], Sōkyū felt a sudden desire to visit Rikyū.  As [he] expected, the door [of the gate] opening into the roji [露地] was ajar; and, entering the koshi-kake [he] informed [Rikyū of his presence by striking the ban-gi (板木)].  While he was resting [in the koshi-kake], the fragrance of some sort of meikō [名香] -- that was being burned in the distance [-- wafted into the koshi-kake].  [After a moment] he realized that it was Ranja [ランジャ] -- [Sō]kyū being skilled at incense, that was as it should have been.

    “Sōeki, in a kamiko [紙子] and jittoku [十德], came out to receive him.

    “After [they] entered [the tearoom], [Sōkyū] asked to appreciate the lingering fragrance of the meikō [名香], [so] the incense burner was brought out just as it was.

    “Seated face to face, while host and guest were involved in the exchange of various comments, there was the sound of the mizuya’s door being slid open.  At this, [Sō]eki said, ‘[I] sent [someone] to bring water from the Same-ga-i [醒ヶ井], but [I’m] afraid [he] must have been delayed.  [He] has returned just now.

    “‘I want to change the water.’  [And with that, Rikyū] lifted the kama up [out of the ro] and carried it into the katte.

    “After [Rikyū had] vacated [his] seat, with [everything but the kama remaining] as it was, Sōkyū moved onto the daime [臺目] to inspect [the condition of the fire in the ro].  Because this was the fire that had been laid at dawn, the hi-ai was indescribably [beautiful].

    “On the shelf was a sumi-tori [炭トリ] filled with charcoal.  After Sōkyū lowered it [to the mat], he added charcoal [to the fire].  While [Sōkyū was] sweeping the daime with the habōki, Rikyū opened the sadō-guchi [茶堂口].

     “As Rikyū was bringing the kama [into the room], [Sō]kyū said, ‘naturally [we have to think about] the hi-ai [火相].  Since [you decided] to change the water at this point, [I] imagined that it was also your intention for the hi-ai to be strengthened as well, so as to restore the waning breath [of the fire].  For that reason, since somebody had to add charcoal....’

    “Rikyū was deeply moved.  ‘A guest like this -- such a one is worthy of the effort to boil the water and prepare the tea.  This guest should be spoken about forever!’”

    Two tsurube of water would have been brought back from the Same-ga-i on a shoulder-pole, the contents of one of which would have been used to rinse and refill the kama, while the other would have been taken out to the utensil mat during the naka-dachi, for use as the mizusashi.

    The commentary and footnotes related to the story of Rikyū’s snowy dawn chakai may be found in the two posts that deal with entry 7 in Book Seven of the Nampō Roku, the URLs for which are:

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/678282482013159424/namp%C5%8D-roku-book-7-7a-the-biographies-of-namb%C5%8D

https://chanoyu-to-wa.tumblr.com/post/678554286855159808/namp%C5%8D-roku-book-7-7b-the-biographies-of-namb%C5%8D

⁴In the case of all other mizusashi (and, indeed, all other utensils), the host advances forward, on his knees, from the far end of the mat toward the temae-za.

    Rikyū’s rule was that the host should never step across the threshold.  He should always sit down when opening the katte-guchi (sadō-guchi), and slide across the threshold on his knees:

- in a large room, the host then stands and walks toward the lower end of the utensil mat:  sitting down there, he advances toward the temae-za on his knees; and, when returning to the katte, he does this all in reverse;

- in a small room, neither the host nor the guests should ever stand:  after closing the katte-guchi, the host turns on his knees toward the temae-za, and moves forward in that way*.

    In the 4.5-mat room, the host is free to behave in either way† -- though he should be consistent:  if he stands after closing the katte-guchi, then he should use the room as if it were a shoin through the rest of the gathering.  If he chooses to remain seated, and simply move on his knees toward the lower end of the utensil mat, then everything else done during the gathering should conform to the conventions of the small room. ___________ *In contrast to the larger rooms, where going back and forth between the temae-za and the katte is necessary, in the small room, all of the utensils should be grouped together on the outside of the katte-guchi, so that the host can lift them all into the room at one time, before closing the katte-guchi.  Then he has only to move them into place, in the usual order, on the utensil mat.

†In other words, he can choose to use the 4.5-mat room as if it is a shoin, or as if it were a small room.

    By definition, the katte-guchi in a small room should be located a half-mat or less away from the lower end of the utensil mat.

⁵Because the original tsurube was simply held together with a number of iron nails, thus a certain amount of seepage was to be expected (especially when the tsurube was not new).  Since the moisture will discolor the mat (at least temporarily, while it is still damp), the tsurube was left in place in order to hide this discoloration from the guests.

⁶When closed, both lids should be placed so that they extend beyond the edges of the mouth of the tsurube by approximately 1-bu (or, sometimes, 2-bu).  To open the lid that is closest to the kama, the host reaches to the far end and pushes the lid forward by 5- or 6-bu.  Then, grasping the front edge of the lid with both hands, the lid is pulled forward until it clears the front edge of the tsurube by several bu.  Then, as if resting on an invisible surface, the lid is moved horizontally, on a slightly upward trajectory, until it is directly in front of (and slightly above) the other half-lid.  The movable lid is then rested on the other and slid toward the far end until the front edge of the movable half-lid is projecting 5- or 6-bu forward of the other half-lid.  The movable lid is left like that until it is time to close the tsurube.

⁷For most of their lives, Shōan and Sōtan used only the small unryū that was presented to them by Hideyoshi* (at the time when he reinstated the Sen family name, shortly before his death, in 1597†), together with a kiji-tsurube‡.

    It was because of this -- because of the fact that the kiji-tsurube can be opened while the chakin is still resting on its lid -- that Sōtan had forgotten that, during the furo temae, the chakin is supposed to be placed on the corner of the shiki-ita during the chasen-tōshi (so that the lid of the kama can be closed).  So, when he was called upon to serve tea at the court of the Imperial consort Tōfukumon-in [東福門院]** using an ordinary mizusashi, he forgot how to do it -- and spontaneously made up the form of the furo-temae that is still taught by a majority of the modern schools even today††. ___________ *The original small unryū-gama, which Rikyū had created circa 1582, could no longer be used after the furo was damaged in 1596.  Hideyoshi, therefore, seems to have given that kama to Hosokawa Sansai.  Meanwhile, after having arranged for a new kama, Furuta Sōshitsu placed the furo on top of a carved Korean floor-tile that he had brought back from the continent (after completing his tour of service during the initial stages of the first invasion of the continent in 1592) in order to elevate the mouth of the kama to the same height as it had occupied before (which height had been decided upon by Rikyū, based on the presumed height of the mouth of the original Temmyō kiri-kake gama).

    While great care was taken to achieve as close to the original effect as possible, Hideyoshi now considered the furo ill-omened.  When, in 1597, it was brought to Hideyoshi’s attention that Shōan, who was the biological son of the man (Miyaō Saburō Sannyū [宮王三郎三入; ? ~ 1582]) who had literally taken a bullet for Hideyoshi during the battle of Yamazaki (in 1582), was suffering under the consequences of Hideyoshi’s damnatio memoriae of Rikyū (in the aftermath of his seppuku), Hideyoshi allowed himself to be convinced to reinstate the Sen family name under Shōan.  And it was at that time the he restored to Shōan what remained of Rikyū‘s possessions (that had been confiscated from the Mozuno compound in the days after his suicide), to which he added the large Temmyō kimen-buro and Oribe’s newly-cast kama.

†This kama was made for Hideyoshi (via Oribe’s intervention) by Rikyū’s kama-shi, Tsuji Yojirō, who had accompanied him back from Korea in 1555 (this was the same man who had cast the first and second versions of the small unryū-gama).  While the two earlier kama had featured versions of the Chinese dragon that Rikyū had copied from Jōō’s sketch (or rubbing) of the seiji-unryū mizusashi [青磁雲龍水指] (which was completely destroyed in the fire at the Honnō-ji), this third version displayed the Korean dragon (copied from a battle standard captured during the Chŏngyu war, against the Josen king’s forces in 1597).

    Because the large Temmyō kimen-buro had been further damaged during the Keichō–Fushimi earthquake that had collapsed Hideyoshi’s Fushimi palace (during the early autumn of 1596), Yojirō suggested that simply reproducing the proportions of Rikyū’s earlier kama would be inappropriate (because, since most of the rim of the furo had now broken away, the mouth of the furo was now somewhat larger than before), he made the sides of the new kama conical in shape, choosing the inverse of the sides of the kiji-tsurube (which Rikyū considered to be the most appropriate mizusashi to use with this very small kama -- “most appropriate” because every time hot water is dipped from the small unryū-gama it must be replaced by a hishaku of cold water, and the kiji-tsurube is effectively the largest mizusashi there is, one that will not be emptied no matter how many bowls of tea the host prepares during his temae).

‡As this kama was now “philosophically” paired with the tsurube, Shōan and Sōtan chose to use no other mizusashi with it.

**Tokugawa Masako [德川和子; 1607 ~ 1678]; the granddaughter of Tokugawa Ieyasu, and consort of the retired Emperor Go-mizuno-o [後水尾天皇; 1596 ~ 1680].

††This was because Sōtan’s temae was the only officially sanctioned (by the Tokugawa government) way to serve tea during most of the seventeenth century.  Deviating (even with the intention of correcting Sōtan’s ignorant blunder) was considered tantamount to treason against the bakufu.

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[chanoyu-to-wa]

The Chanoyu Hyaku-shu [茶湯百首], Part IV:  Poem 88.

〽 Mizusashi ni te-oke idasa-ba te ha yoko ni          mae no futa tori saki ni kasane yo

    [水指に手桶出さば手は橫に          前の蓋取り先に重ねよ].

    “If, as the mizusashi, a te-oke will be brought out, [orient] the handle side-to-side, so that the front lid [can] be taken up and stacked [on top of the other half-lid] on the far side.”

    The term te-oke [手桶] means a bucket with a handle.  The handle is fixed in place, and arches over the mouth of the bucket.  While the word can be used for any bucket with a handle that is made like this¹, in chanoyu it usually refers to such a bucket that was painted with shin-nuri.  This kind of bucket, called a shin te-oke [眞手桶], has been used as a mizusashi since 1489 -- when Yoshimasa used one for this purpose during the period of his brief second retirement.

    When Yoshimasa’s treasure house was burned down during the insurrection that precipitated the Ōnin wars, all of his cherished tea utensils were destroyed.  One of the only things to be recovered from the ruins was a lacquered te-oke of this sort² -- which had been used to carry water from the well to the residential apartments.  Yoshimasa, when he was finally able to resume the practice of chanoyu after retiring from the reins of government for the second time³, gathered together such relics of his past and arranged them on a naga-ita (since these pieces were not suitable for use on the daisu, on account of their size and make⁴), so he could use these (relatively) humble objects when serving tea to his closest intimates during his last months of life.  

    Yoshimasa placed this te-oke on the naga-ita, together with the large Temmyō kimen-buro and its kiri-kake gama, a shaku-tate, and the kakure-ka futaoki, that had formerly been used on the o-chanoyu-dana in the anteroom next to his private shoin⁵.  Yoshimasa died on the 7th day of the First Month of the following year (1490).

    Regarding the handling of the lid of the shin te-oke, the front half-lid is picked up and flipped over, and then lifted over the handle and rested on top of the far half-lid.  If it is simply rotated 180° (as some of the modern schools teach), the film of moisture that naturally condenses on the underside of the lid will cause it to stick to the other⁶, making it difficult (or at least unseemly) to separate the two half-lids when it comes time to close the te-oke at the end of the temae⁷.

    In the case of the text of this poem, all of the sources are in agreement -- which is hardly surprising since this mizusashi was rarely encountered (thus there have been few occasions for divergent teachings to arise⁸).

_________________________

¹Including ones made of unpainted cypress wood with twisted bamboo hoops and a bamboo handle, like the one shown below.

    A te-oke of this sort is said to have been owned by Shukō, though whether he used it as a mizusashi on his o-chanoyu-dana*, or for the purpose of carrying water to his cell from the temple’s well, is still being debated by scholars. ___________ *Shukō had a wood-floored area that ran across the width of his 2-mat cell, on the side of the room opposite the shōji.

    In one half of this space Shukō arranged his utensils as if on an o-chanoyu-dana, while he hung his Engo bokuseki (usually referred to as the Nagare-Engo [流れ圜悟] bokuseki today; the honshi [本紙] of this scroll, together with a view of Shukō’s hyōgu [表具], are shown below), arranged his flowers, and burned incense in the other half.

    His cell, on the grounds of the Shōmyō-ji [稱名寺] in Nara, is popularly known as the Shukō-an [珠光庵].

    The present room (which is a 3-mat room with a sode-kabe and naka-bashira, was intended to be used as if it were a 2-mat daime chashitsu -- though it can also be expanded to the size of a 4.5-mat room by removing the fusuma at the foot of the room) was reconstructed during the Edo period to accommodate the demands of the chanoyu that was being practiced at that time.  Shukō’s room, as illustrated on the left, was a 2-mat room with a 1-shaku 5-sun deep board-floored area extending along one side.

    Virtually all of the pre-Edo period chashitsu that “survive” into the present were redesigned in the same way -- so that it is often difficult to visualize the way the rooms would have appeared, and actually been used, by the chajin who designed them.  (That said, this does not preclude the modern schools from explaining how this was done, in great detail -- though this is always according to their own preferred practices, rather than the way of doing things followed by their creators.)

²The shin te-oke shown above, which was made by a highly respected lacquer craftsman, is supposed to be an exact copy of Yoshimasa’s te-oke.

³This was after finally naming his brother’s son, Yoshitane [義稙; 1466 ~ 1523], as his heir (following the death of Yoshimasa’s own son, Yoshihisa [義尚; 1465 ~ 1489], in the early summer of 1489).  Ironically, it was over this very issue of bringing his brother’s line into the succession that the Ōnin wars were fought.

    Yoshitane was formally installed as sei-i tai-shōgun [征夷大將軍] during the summer of the following year (1490).

⁴Some, like the large iron Temmyō-buro, were too large (it was made to be used on the o-chanoyu-dana, and so was more than 1-sun larger than the furo that was supposed to be used on the large daisu*); and, in addition, an iron furo was not appropriate for use on the daisu in any case, even if its size was correct.  

    Other things, like the seiji-unryū mizusashi, were unsuitable because they were imperfect (while the body of the mizusashi was recovered intact from the fire, its lid had been broken; and although Yoshimasa had ordered a celadon-blue-lacquered wooden lid that replicated the original in every detail, the fact was that the mizusashi was now diminished, in his eyes†, and so could never be used as it had been used before).

    And again, others, like the shin te-oke that we are considering in this post, were blatantly utilitarian objects that had never been intended for use in chanoyu, so that they were inherently inappropriate to the formality of the daisu setting.

    By arranging these pieces on the naga-ita (which had been made from the ten-ita of Yoshimasa’s daisu -- the ji-ita of which had been burned beyond any thought of repair in the fire), Yoshimasa was acknowledging that his current state of chanoyu was a mere reflection, an imperfect memory, of what he had done in the past. ___________ *While it might, in theory, have been possible to make a new daisu that would permit this furo to be used, such a daisu would not have been able to sit in between the heri of the utensil mat, and so could not be used in Yoshimasa’s shoin.

    These points were extremely critical for the kind of chanoyu that Yoshimasa had been taught to practice -- even if they sometimes seem odd to us (who unavoidably view such particulars in light of the teachings of the modern schools where, for example, the out-sized ji-ita of copies of Sōtan’s “wabi” daisu, which was cobbled together from pieces of several old daisu of non-standard dimensions, rests on top of the heri on the katte-side of the utensil mat).

†It was a widely-held belief -- especially among chajin -- that using damaged or imperfect utensils was ill-omened, as if the misfortune of their damage could be communicated to the participants like some sort of karmic disease.  It required a major shift in social values (encouraged, in this case, by the Tokugawa bakufu) before repaired damage morphed into an aesthetic positive, a declaration of the object’s antiquity, and so merit.  (Though it should also be pointed out that this sensibility is not universally shared by all practicing chajin, even today.)

⁵These were among the only utensils that survived the conflagration, since they were on the o-chanoyu-dana rather than in storage, in Yoshimasa’s treasure house.

    This large Temmyō kimen-buro is the same one that eventually came into Nobunaga’s hands; and for which, after it was badly cracked in the fire at the Honnō-ji, Rikyū created the original small unryū-gama.

⁶Through hygroscopic forces.  Natural lacquer is highly hydrophilic -- indeed, near 100% relative humidity is necessary for lacquer to dry properly.  The same phenomenon is responsible for the lids sticking together -- through the formation of hydrogen bonds between the water molecules and the lacquer.

⁷While some schools argue that the shin te-oke should only be used with the ro, it is important to point out that there was no ro until Jōō’s middle period, yet the shin te-oke had been used for chanoyu for almost a half century by that time.

    Likewise, resting the hishaku across the top of the handle* was an idea that appeared during the Edo period, and has no historical validity when we are considering practices that appeared prior to that point in time. ___________ *This seems to be the actual reason why the schools that uphold the teaching that the shin te-oke should only be used with the ro, do so.  If the hishaku is rested on top of the te-oke, its handle will touch (or at least come disconcertingly close to) the side of the furo, so that the arrangement will look odd and out-of-balance.

⁸Indeed, the same teaching is repeated countless times by both Jōō and Rikyū, in their various densho and other writings.

    Until the Edo period, copies of the ancient utensils were almost never made, thus this teaching pertained specifically to the “original” shin te-oke -- in other words, the one that had belonged to Yoshimasa.  The shin te-oke produced since the Edo period were, therefore, originally intended to be (more or less) exact copies of the original.  Versions that deviate from the classical models (such as those te-oke painted red with polished silver hoops) largely began to appear only in the 20th century (at the same time that the major schools were arguing that the entire suite of utensils should be changed each time chanoyu is performed in front of guests).

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