[Translation by Norman Waddell]

HAKUIN'S INSTRUCTIONS TO MONKS FOR ROHATSU

SESSHIN

THE FIRST NIGHT

The master said:

To practice dhyana, you should sit yourself on a thick
cushion, loosen your robe and belt, and assume the full lotus
posture. After straightening up your spine and settling into a
comfortable position, you should begin counting your breaths.
The breathing exercise is foremost among all the countless
samadhis. When the cinnabar field (tanden) below the navel
fills to repletion with vital energy, start working on your koan.
Cut life off at its roots. If you continue practicing like this
over the months and years, and are not remiss, your kensho is
assured--as certain as reaching down and touching the earth at
your feet.
Strive hard! Strive hard!

THE SECOND NIGHT

The master said:

The Shurangama Sutra says that when a person returns to

Truth in the attainment of the Way, everything in all the ten
directions, including empty space itself, vanishes without a
trace.

Anywhere people engage in the practice of the Way,

protecting deities and obstructing deities are also present. It is
like crowds gathering in towns and cities and drawing thieves
there as well. When a student's mind is focused firmly in the
great vow of universal salvation, the protecting deities gain
strength. But when the mind begins to waver and impede
itself, it is the obstructing deities who strengthen.

It is thus absolutely essential that you begin your practice by

arousing the great Bodhisattva vow, focusing your mind with
selfless humility on the suffering of sentient beings, rooting it
in the fervent prayer that each and every one of them reach the
deliverance of enlightenment. No one has ever attained full
realization of the great Way of the Buddhas who was not
inspired by the power of this vow.

It is like the practice of archery. You won't hit the center of

the target the first or second time you shoot an arrow. But in
time, if you continue to practice diligently, you are sure to
grasp the knack. In practicing Zen it is the same. A great
burning resolve must well up at each and every instant of
thought, focusing all your energy on penetrating the profound
source of the Buddha Way. When you are able to do this
without wavering for even a single instant of thought, the
Dharma-truth cannot help manifesting itself in its entirety
before your eyes. You will arrive at the Buddhas' supreme
enlightenment with less effort than it takes to reach down and
pick up a piece of dirt at your feet.

THE THIRD NIGHT

The master said:

There are two kinds of Bodhisattva, those who pass on the

Dharma lamp, transmitting the eye and treasure of the
Buddha's right Dharma from master to disciple without
deviation; and those who preserve and protect that Dharma.
The relation between them is like that which exists between
teacher and student. When complete accord does not exist
between teacher and student, the great Dharma cannot, on its
own, come into play; when that happens, protecting the
Dharma is of greatest importance.

Long ago, the great Shingon priest Kukai asked Dainichi, the
Great Sun Buddha, "Who is foremost in protecting the
Dharma?" "None can compare with Benzaiten," replied the
Buddha. Although transmitting the Dharma is a primary
concern, the Dharma cannot function alone, without the
means of protecting it. Hence the supremacy given to
protectors of the Dharma {like Benzaiten}.

The Way of zazen comprehends all other Ways. In the Way of

the Gods, for example, the body is regarded as the
condensation of heaven and earth, and heaven and earth as the
expansion of the body and mind. Residing within you are
seven generations of celestial gods, five of earth gods, and
eight million various other gods as well. According to the
Shinto writings, to venerate these gods you must perform "the
divine worship of the excellent ancestors. "

The only way to perform this worship is by practicing zazen.

When you straighten your backbone, fill your cinnabar field
with vital energy, and sit with your six roots still and quiet--
not a single thought impinging on your perceptions--you are
worshipping all the gods of heaven and earth. Even though
you sit like this for only a single stick of incense, the merit of
that sitting is by no means a small one.

Zen master Dogen said, "A day of religious practice is a

priceless treasure; a hundred years without that practice are a
hundred years of regret." Ahh! How awesome, how humbling,
those words are!
THE FOURTH NIGHT

The master said:

The breathing exercise--susokukan--is composed of six

wondrous entrances to enlightenment. The first--called su--is
counting the breaths and entering samadhi. Mastering it, you
merge with your inhalations and exhalations and enter into
samadhi, reaching the next entrance, called zui--following the
breath. The breathing exercise is explained as having sixteen
different characteristics as well. But in the end, they all return
to the first two practices of counting and following the breath.

Thus it was that the first Zen patriarch, the great

Bodhidharma, said,

Stop all external connections; have no concerns

within;
Make the mind a stone wall, and enter into the great
Way.

Having no concerns within means not relying on the

fundamental source. Making the mind a stone wall means
going straight ahead. This verse of the First Patriarch is
exceedingly profound. You should make it a fundamental
koan. Strive for all you're worth to take it right straight ahead.
If you do, your kensho is assured. You can be more certain of
that than you can of reaching down and feeling the ground at
your feet.

Strive hard! Strive hard!

THE FIFTH NIGHT

The master said:

Intensive training sessions known as sesshin continue for

periods of eighty, ninety, and one hundred twenty days. Since
the goal of all those who take part is to clarify the great
matter, while the sesshin is in progress no one leaves the
temple gates, and no one speaks unnecessarily. Practice is
carried on with a spirit of dauntless, indomitable courage.

In recent years there was a man in a village near here who

carved a stone image of Fudo the Immovable. He enshrined it
beside a waterfall in the mountains of Yoshiwara. One day, as
he was watching the water tumbling down the cliffside, his
gaze fixed on the bubbles that formed in the pool at the foot
the falls. Some moved over the water for a foot or so before
disappearing, some for two or three feet, and some continued
floating two or three yards. Watching their progress, the man's
past karma enabled him to perceive the impermanence of
worldly existence. The realization shook him to the marrow of
his being. He now found it impossible to find peace within
himself.

He chanced to hear a man recite a passage from The Dharma

Words of Priest Takusui: "Courageous beings attain
Buddhahood in a single instant of thought; lax and indolent
beings take three long kalpas to attain Nirvana. A great,
burning determination rose in him. He entered the bathing
room and shut the door behind him. Sitting down, he
straightened his spine, clenched his fists, opened his eyes
wide, and began doing zazen with great determination.
Delusory thoughts flew thick and fast through his mind. The
obstructions of the demon realms rose up to confuse him. But
because he threw himself body and soul into the great Dharma
battle, he finally severed life at the roots and entered into the
formless realm of deep samadhi.

At first light, hearing the sparrows chirping around outside the

building, he found that body had completely disappeared.
Suddenly he saw his eyeballs pop from their sockets and fall
to the ground. He felt the pain of his fingernails gouging into
the palms of his hands, and realized his eyes were back in
their proper place. He rose from his cushion and began to
walk about.

He continued to practice in the same manner for three nights.

On the third night, when daybreak came and he got up to
wash his face, he noticed that the trees in the garden were now
somehow totally different. He consulted the priest of a nearby
temple about it, but the priest was unable to provide any
answers. He then decided to come and see me. He set out for
Shoin-ji in palanquin. Upon reaching the high pass at Satta,
the splendid prospect of the ocean at Koura came into view
far below. At that instant he knew beyond any doubt that what
he had grasped was the truth that plants and trees and the great
earth all attain Buddhahood.

Proceeding to my temple, he passed through the fires of my

forge, and subsequently penetrated a number of koan barriers.
He was an ordinary man, with no prior knowledge of Zen
practice whatever. Yet in just two or three short nights, he
achieved a realization. The great victory he gained in the
struggle against delusory thought was the result of courageous
determination and singleminded resolve. How can you, full-
fledged Zen monks, fail to generate this same fierce and
dauntless spirit?

THE SIXTH NIGHT

An attendant brought a cup of tea for the master. He said,
"When Zen master Yosai, founder of Kenninji, was in China,
he took ill during a spell of excessive heat. An old priest cured
him by giving him some tea to drink. When Yosai returned to
Japan he took tea seeds back with him for the palace in Kyoto.
Some seeds were later planted in Uji, and some went to Myoe
Shonin, who planted them at his temple west of the capital.
Because of this, Yosai is regarded as the father of tea in Japan.

The virtue of tea lies in its mildly bitter taste, which works to
strengthen the heart. When the heart is sound, the other bodily
organs also function normally. Myoe said, "Tea is good for
driving off the sleep demon, and should be used by those
practicing the Way."

When it comes to strengthening the heart, however, nothing

can compare to strenuous religious practice. If you devote
yourself to your practice singlemindedly, until your arduous
effort becomes one with your very being, the divine energy
that is within you will shine forth bright and clear. As Zen
master Jimyo said, "The arduous effort expended by the
ancients possesses a radiance that cannot help but spread and
grow."

Spurring Students Through the Barriers says, "When you are

able to control your mind at all times your goal of realization
is as good as achieved." You should all deem the arduous
effort you put forth in your practice as something of priceless
worth.

There was a priest named Bummei from the northern

provinces who wanted to come to Shoin-ji. He tried in various
ways for over six years to gain permission to study here. I told
him, "To me it doesn't matter how great and celebrated a
priest is--he could have the purple robe from the emperor for
all I care. If his Dharma eye remains unopened as far as I'm
concerned he's still a novice. He still needs a heavy dose of
scolding and reviling. Anyone who harbors so much as a
thought for the world or the slightest feeling of self-
importance couldn't derive any benefit from visiting me."

Bummei wouldn't give up. "I'm no different from a novice,"

he said. "Someone newly arrived in the training hall intent
solely on achieving the great Dharma. Please, master Hakuin,
don't begrudge me your compassion. Give me the benefit of
your teaching. Let me encounter your thundering shouts. Feel
the stinging blows rain from your staff. I am prepared to lay
down my life in the pursuit of the Way."

I allowed Bummei to come. He spent one summer--three

months of arduous practice--in the training hall, where he was
tempered and refined under countless blows from my staff.
Finally, he broke through. He suddenly realized the great
uplifting matter of our school. He vowed when he left that he
would remain my student forever. A spirit of singleminded
commitment and iron-willed resolve cannot rest until it
reaches the final, ultimate attainment of the Buddha's Dharma.

THE SEVENTH NIGHT

The master said:

When a child leaves home to become a monk it is said his

family members for the next nine generations are reborn into a
Deva existence. He must be a genuine monk, though, one of
those in whom a great burning vow to save all beings wells up
from within, firing him with fierce courage to go forward and
sever the roots to life so the true Dharma-nature appears
suddenly before his eyes. Such a person is an authentic monk.
For his family, rebirth in the Deva realms is no empty saying;
it will become a joyous reality.

Let me tell you about a mother from the province of Harima.

On the night she conceived, she vowed that if she should give
birth to a son, she would give him to the priesthood. That
same night, an old man appeared to her in a dream and said, "I
am an ancestor of yours, born nine generations ago. When I
died I entered the world of the dead where I have been
undergoing endless suffering. But on the strength of the
wonderful vow you have just made, I will finally be able to
escape the torments of Hell."

There was a priest named Ryozan who lived in the province

of Kai and engaged in the training of monks. One night, as the
assembly was doing zazen during a rohatsu sesshin, the spirit
of his dead mother suddenly appeared to him. Grasping a
sword in her hand, she rushed at him and stabbed him in the
side. Emitting a loud roar, he toppled over as if dead,
vomiting blood, and did not regain consciousness for a long
time.

The next day, he bid farewell to his monks and set out on a
pilgrimage. He carried nothing but three robes and a begging
bowl, and slept out in the open, exposed to the elements. He
wandered for years, going from teacher to teacher in his
pursuit of the Way. His dhyana attained an exceptional depth
and maturity. One day, as he was about to enter samadhi, his
mother appeared again. When he raised his eyes to see her,
she vanished. Later she appeared again, when he was deeply
immersed in a samadhi as vast and tranquil as the great ocean.
This time she spoke.
"After I died and descended into the world of the dead, the
demon-lictors all treated me with great respect as the mother
of a monk. I experienced no suffering or torment at all. Then,
alas, you began to make a name for yourself as a teacher, the
lictors all began to say, We thought she was the mother of a
priest, but it turned out she had spawned a scoundrel. They
began to inflict terrible suffering on me--iron bars; heavy iron
shackles. I grew to hate you with such bitterness it seemed to
penetrate my very bones. That is why I came and stabbed you
that night.

"You had a change of heart and left the temple. Set out on
pilgrimage. When I visited you the next time, I saw
immediately that thoughts of birth and death still lingered in
your mind, so I disappeared. But now there is an almost
transparent clarity to your dhyana and prajna-wisdom. My
suffering has also ended. I can now be reborn into the Deva
realms. This time I've come to thank you.

You heard what that woman said, didn't you! All of you have
mothers of your own. You have brothers and sisters,
grandparents, relatives of various kinds. If you counted up all
the ancestors who lived before you, their number would reach
into the tens of millions.

Well, at this very moment they are confined within the cycle
of birth and death, undergoing interminable, unspeakable
torment. It would be hard to imagine their eagerness you to
break through and attain the Way. They are like people in the
midst of a parching drought scanning the skies for signs of
rain. If you just sit there doing zazen, going through the
motions because you haven't brought forth the great
Bodhisattva vow, how can you bear to look them in the face?
Time waits for no one. You can't let a single hour pass in
vain!

Strive hard! Strive hard!