The moon floats above the pines
And the ancient veranda is cold
As the ancient clear sounds come to your fingertips.
The old melody usually makes the listeners weep
But Zen music is without sentiment
Do not play again until the great sound of Lao Tzu accompanies you.
Hsueh-Tou (980-1052)
Chinese Zen Master
Tetteki Tosui- Blowing the iron flute.
Distilled in this short poem is the essence of the shakuhachi practice of sui-zen (blowing zen). It is described, defined and completed. This poem serves as both a Koan and an inspiration for generations of shakuhachi players and Zen practitioners. Through these lines Hsueh-Tou reveals a depth of understanding and enlightened vision that perhaps can only be realized by adepts who are fully versed in the secrets of Zen music.
The key to understanding the significance of this poem and uncovering its many layers of meaning lies, as is the case of most Koan study, in the abandonment of some of our pre-existing notions and concepts (about music in this case).
The clue that may reveal the concepts in question can be found in the line "Zen music is without sentiment". The intimate relationship between music and sentiment is so ingrained in our culture and psyche that it seems impossible even to conceive of music without sentiment of some kind. Whether it be the emotional turmoil of a Mahler symphony or the sometimes violent histrionics of certain Rap songs, music is usually understood as one of the most abstract art forms capable of expressing sentiments and feelings beyond the scope of even the most poetic written language. What then can Hsueh-Tou possibly mean by stating that "Zen music is without sentiment"?
One way to approach this puzzle is to deny that Zen music is really music at all, and to describe it as a way of "sound meditation". Evidently this cannot sufficiently explain the verse either, since Hsueh-Tou clearly alludes not only to music but to sentiment in the line "the old melody usually makes the listeners weep".
At first glance it appears as though Hsueh-Tou is contradicting himself in these two lines. Is this just another Zen paradox? This would seem to be the case if it were not for the fact that this poem is directed not to the listener, but to the player, a distinction which has far greater significance when speaking of "Zen music" than of what we usually understand as music. Hsueh-Tou is pointing to the fundamental difference in perspective between "the old melody" as experienced by the listener and "the ancient clear sound" that is realized by the player.
Having had the opportunity on many occasions to demonstrate Shakuhachi Sui-zen pieces as well as performing art music I am often surprised at the listeners' reactions to this ancient music. Emotions of sadness and loneliness, are often accompanied by tears and other deeply physical responses. Indeed my own reaction on first hearing the haunting sound of the late Yamaguchi Goro playing Koku Reibo was similarly emotional. I once asked my teacher and friend Yoshio Kurahashi, what was it that first enticed him to study shakuhachi? His answer was simple, "The sound." He clearly felt a strong sentiment for shakuhachi music! So what is Hsueh-Tou talking about?
The practice of Suizen, like Zazen, is not about sentiment or non-sentiment. It is about practice, about doing and being fully engaged, right here, right now.
The actual practice of Suizen can only begin to be understood, and only after many years, by the one who is practicing. Of course, a concert pianist has a different understanding than his audience, but to some degree his art depends on the listeners experience. They are sharing an emotional rapport and in the true meaning of the piece and the composer's intention can be experienced and understood.
Zen music is very different. It is a fact that most of the ancient shakuhachi Zen pieces particularly those of the ancient Meian style are not meant for an audience, nor for entertainment of any kind. They are just Zen practice, played alone or sometimes in a small group or Sangha. Any sentiment, emotional or otherwise, either involved or evoked by the practice is entirely extra, but not something to try to avoid.
This practice is alluded to in the last line of the poem "Do not play again until the great sound of Lao Tsu accompanies you". Discovering what this sound is, and realizing it is the essence of Suizen, is "the sound of one hand clapping", or "the sound of the iron bar flute", alluded to in those most famous Koans.
It should be obvious from the preceding discussion that the usual approach to teaching or learning a musical instrument would be entirely inappropriate if applied to the practice of Suizen. The normal approach used in teaching music is to learn and study various exercises and then practice them so that one may make progress. Then to move on to more difficult techniques, and some day become a performer, entertainer or an artist and express oneself, one's feelings and interpretations of pieces in a way enjoyable by oneself and especially others. Of course it is quite possible to study shakuhachi music, even Zen music of the old Meian style, using this approach, but from a Zen standpoint we may end up practicing for the wrong reasons, developing our ego and self esteem, far from the meaning of Zen practice.
I tell my students, particularly beginning students, that I experience as much difficulty as they do when playing shakuhachi. They mostly look at me in disbelief, but I am very serious about this point. What I mean by this is perhaps not what we usually mean by difficulty. Certainly I can usually produce more solid sound, execute breathing techniques properly, control my pitch and tone better than my students. This is no different than the usual relationship between teacher and student on any instrument. If that is all there is to playing shakuhachi honkyoku music then it is really just an instrument for music "Gaki" and not a religious tool "Hoki". The difficulty I experience along with my students has nothing to do with executing techniques or making sound, it has to do with a fundamental practice in Zen meditation, attachment and non-attachment.
If we become attached to the results of our practice, to sound better, to move quicker, to have better control, whatever your practice may be, you may well be practicing for the sake of your ego. This attachment may bind you and is a hindrance to deeper spiritual practice. The practice of Suizen is just to blow, nothing else, just being here with the sound, the techniques, right now playing the shakuhachi in the midst of conditions, without any thought of progress, or even any thought of enlightenment.
The essential component of learning and practicing shakuhach as a way of meditation. It is not just to develop skill and good sound, but to develop right attitude, to enter the practice completely, following your teacher's guidance with a calm, concentrated and compassionate mind. The state of mind needed is just to play, to hear the expression of the breath as sound, as it is, in each moment, without discrimination or judgment, just blowing. To blow one sound with the right attitude is Zen. Just this one note of Zen is the hardest practice of all and has been compared to "playing the iron flute upside down" or to "playing the no hole flute".
The goal of the Suizen practicioner must be " Ichi-on Jobutsu " (enlightenment in a single sound). If my students cannot grasp this point then I usually recommend that they take up the harmonica--it's much easier.
Stan 'Kakudo' Richardson
http://www.stanrichardson.com/article_2.html
“ I was searching the net for more information on Meian and Zen and came across this article by Stan Richardson. I posted this because I have lately been toiling over some things that where brought up in the article. Starting over again is wonderful but easier thought than done sometimes. “ JBJ
Friday, December 18, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
More from Dr. Rilwy Lee's phd thesis
3.7 Suizen after the abolition of the Fuke sect
One impression given by much of the literature is that shakuhachi players engaged in the practice of suizen may have always been in the minority. During the Edo period, the hierarchy of the Fuke sect appeared too busy with furthering and protecting their privileges, influence and authority, and many of the rank and file seemed too interested in the free lifestyle of begging for alms, spying for the Shogunate or hiding from the law to seriously devote themselves to suizen. After the Fuke sect and the special privileges and lifestyle it offered were no more, many komusô may have simply abandoned the instrument. Some of those who had been teaching shakuhachi at the fukiawase jo, for example the adherents of the Kinko style Araki and Yoshida, mentioned above, seemed intent on continuing their teaching and playing activities, but as secular musicians.What is certain is that there were always komusô, however few in number, who practised suizen seriously; otherwise it is unlikely that the koten honkyoku tradition could have survived the abolishment of Fuke sect. The large repertoire of honkyoku that continues to be performed and transmitted today is compelling evidence that throughout the Edo period and even after the abolition of the Fuke sect, shakuhachi was played as a spiritual tool in the context of suizen.
During the Meiji era, the suizen tradition was kept alive, particularly in the Kyôto area, by former Fuke members whose activities had centered around the third honzan of the Fuke sect, Myôanji. Unlike the two Edo temples, Ichigetsuji and Reihôji, which were closed down and abandoned, Myôanji survived the 1871 abolishment of the Fuke sect, though not as a temple of the Fuke sect. Sanford gives the following as some of the reasons that Myôanji avoided the fate of its two sister temples in Edo:
A chief feature differentiating the latter history of Myôanji from that of the Kantô temples is the greater seriousness with which the Kyôto temple took the shakuhachi and the Zen elements of the Fuke tradition. In the later decades of the Tokugawa era, as the Edo temples generally allowed their shakuhachi tradition to follow a course of increasing secularization, Myôanji made serious attempts to keep its music on a high spiritual and artistic plane. The differentiation of roles--politics in Edo and art/religion in Kyoto--was probably at base the virtually inevitable outcome of the geo-political realities of the Edo era, but it is important to note that it was at Myôanji that the process of Zen assimilation of the komusô movement went deepest and lasted longest.After the abolition of the Fuke sect in 1871, Jishô Sakuhi (自笑昨非), the 34th and last abbot of Myôanji while it was a honzan of the Fuke sect, changed his name to Akekure Kakusaku (明暗覚昨) and became a lay person.28 Before closing his temple and departing from priesthood, he transferred a number of Myôanji artifacts and documents to Zenneiin (善慧院), a sub-temple within the large temple complex of Tôfukuji (東福寺) for safe-keeping. Included were a statue of Kyochiku Zenji, the founder of the temple, the kyoreizan jigaku (虚霊山寺額, a framed tablet), the rekidai jûshoku (歴代住職, genealogies), the indai (院代, names of persons of authority) and the kanshu no reihai (看守の霊牌，tablets of the posthumous names of the members of the temple). These objects together became the focal point for those persons who wished to preserve the komusô tradition (Kamisangô 1977:20; Ueno 1984:302).
At any rate, after its reclassification as a branch temple of Kôkokuji in 1768 [see p.113], Myôanji quickly rose to prominence as an influential center of shakuhachi musicianship. The factors prompting Myôanji to concentrate on music (and by extension the Zen philosophy that might inform such an interest) were, in addition to the political impotence of the temple, the high-culture tradition of Kyôto and the conservative perspectives of Myôanji's leaders vis-á-vis art, religion and politics. Thus, in general, as Edo gradually became the center of a movement of popularized shakuhachi music, Myôanji continued to explore and refine a much more metaphysical Zen style.
(Sanford 1977:432-433)
28. Tanabe (1954:228) incorrectly names the 34th patriarch of Myôanji as Watanabe Kakuzan (渡辺鶴山). Sanford (1977:432) incorrectly names Watanabe as the 24th abbot.
There is evidence that if Myôanji was politically impotent during the Tokugawa regime, it may have been because its sympathies lay with the equally impotent political opposition, especially from the 19th century. Many of the temple members, including those in high positions within the administration, were sympathetic to the anti-government imperial loyalists. One one occasion, four Myôanji komusô, Ozaki Shinrû (尾崎身竜)29 , Kammyô Gendô (観妙幻堂), Myôan Sogyô (明暗素行) and Kondô Sôetsu (近藤宗悦) were arrested by agents of the Tokugawa regime as being messengers for the imperial loyalists. Shinrû was placed under house arrest. Gendô was beheaded. Sogyô was imprisoned. Sôetsu was not punished at all, due to the intervention of a high-ranking government official, Toyoda Katsugorô (豊田勝五郎). Better known as Kodô I (古童創始), a leading figure in the Kinko style of shakuhachi playing in Edo, Toyoda greatly respected Sôetsu's musical ability. Sôetsu later became instrumental in the secularization and modernization of the shakuhachi in the Kansai area during the Meiji period (Sanford 1977:432).
29. Tanabe (1954:228) incorrectly states that Ozaki was the 35th abbot of Myôanji, and that Watanabe Kakuzan (渡辺鶴山), another imperial loyalist, was the 34th abbot (Kamisangô 1974:20). Sanford (1977:432) quotes Tanabe's error regarding Ozaki, and adds further to the confusion by misquoting Tanabe's original error, stating that Watanabe, though the teacher of Ozaki, was the 24th abbot, ten generations earlier.
The komusô societies filled the institutional role of the former Fuke sect in a number of ways. They granted licenses and certificates similar to the old san'in or three seals. They also determined the dress of the komusô and the times and circumstances of begging for alms. There were at first even members of the societies whose only livelihood was alms received as komusô. The new komusô societies did differ from the old Fuke sect in being less exclusive; anyone could join the societies once the fees were paid. According to Kamisangô (1974:20) the early kyôkai movement as a whole did little to further either the artistic development or the transmission of the music. In this respect, the komusô societies may resemble the Fuke sect. The transmission of the bulk of the tradition was accomplished not by the institutions, but by individual shakuhachi players teaching other individuals. This becomes particularly evident after the Meiji period, when greater documentation allows transmission lineages of particular honkyoku to be partially traced over a number of generations of performers.
3.8 Transmission of honkyoku from the Meiji era to the present
The most visible mode of transmission of the shakuhachi tradition from the end of the 19th century until the present has been the various institutions and groups that proliferated once the monopoly of the Fuke sect was broken. A number of terms have been used to denote these institutions, such as ryû (流, 'school'), ha (派, 'faction'), kai (会, 'organization') and sha (社, 'company'). Most of these are associated with a particular Fuke temple and with a particular person or founder who operated from that temple.In the whole of the honkyoku tradition, there has been no single performer of the stature and lasting influence of Kinko I, though, as explained above, this may partly be the result of historical circumstances such as the fukiawase system in Edo. Consequently no single lineage exists that is the equivalent of Kinko ryû. Instead, numerous ryû or ha were founded, some lasting only a single generation and others still in existence today. Among the more lasting lineages that developed outside of Edo was one founded by Higuchi Taizan (樋口対山, 1856-1914). Taizan is frequently given credit for playing an instrumental role in revitalizing the suizen tradition in Kyôto and increasing the influence of the Myôan kyokai (Kamisangô 1974:20; Tomimori 1979:35-36). He developed the lineage of shakuhachi playing known as Myôan ryu Taizan ha (明暗流対山派) and was posthumously given the title of the 35th patriarch of the priestly lineage of Myôanji, which had been temporarily suspended at the time. Kamisangô lists Higuchi's successors as follows: Kobayashi Shizan (小林紫山) (36th), Tanikita Muchiku (谷北無竹) (37th), Koizumi Shizan (小泉止山) (38th) and Fukumoto Kyoan (福本虚庵) (39th). The 40th and present abbot of Myôanji is Yoshimura Fuan-sôshin (芳村普庵·宗心).
A major difference between Taizan ha and Kinko ryû, as well as nearly all other major shakuhachi organizations existing today is the complete abstention of Taizan ha from transmitting any pieces other than koten honkyoku. In contrast, particularly immediately after the abolition of the Fuke sect, Kinko ryû emphasized the playing of secular ensemble pieces, though it has maintained the tradition of its thirty-six honkyoku. As mentioned above (p.2), Tozan ryû, founded in the decade after the dissolution of the Fuke sect and now the largest shakuhachi lineage in Japan, totally abandoned the koten honkyoku tradition in favour of secular ensemble and newly composed solo shakuhachi pieces.
Kinko ryû and Taizan ha were not the only new institutions created that transmitted koten honkyoku. In Kyôto immediately after the dissolution of the Fuke sect, the Myôan Shinpô ryû (明暗真法流, 'Myôan True Dharma Sect') was important in continuing the honkyoku tradition after the Fuke sect era. Founded by Ozaki Shinryû (尾崎真龍, 1820-1888), its leading proponent was one of Ozaki's students, Katsuura Shôzan (勝浦正山, 1856-1942). Shôzan became the head of Myôan kyôkai in 1881 (see above), and was influential amongst a great number of honkyoku players. He left Myôan kyôkai soon after the arrival of Taizan. Outliving almost all of his contemporaries, Katsuura came to be known as the last of the komusô. Although there is no longer an organization called Myôan Shinpô ryû, much of Katsuura's repertoire continues to be transmitted today both by individuals and as part of the repertoire of other organizations (Kamisangô 1974:20).
Chikuho ryû, a small school in the Kansai area founded in 1916 by Sakai Chikuho I (初代酒井竹保, 1892-1985) is one organization in which shakuhachi players continue to transmit Katsuura's repertoire. Chikuho I learned as many as sixty honkyoku from the Myôan Jimpô ryû, first of all from a student of Katsuura, Minamoto Unkai (源雲界), and later directly from Katsuura himself. Sakai's two sons, Chikuho II (二代目酒井竹保, 1933-1992), and Shôdô (酒井松道, b.1940) added to the Chikuho ryû repertoire koten honkyoku other than that of the old Myôan Shinpô ryû. Today the repertoire of the Chikuho ryû lists as many as seventy pieces koten honkyoku, more than any other ryû (see Lee 1986:289-290 for a complete list of honkyoku in the Chikuho repertoire).
Many honkyoku that Chikuho II and Shôdô added to their repertoire were transmitted to them by Jin Nyodô (神如道, 1891-1966) through his student Moriyasu Nyôto (森安如蕩, b.1899). Jin was said to have learned honkyoku from as many as five lineages: Kinko, Shinpô, Taizan, Seien (西園流, see below) and Kimpû (錦風流, see below), as well as from over twenty individuals (Kamisangô and Tukitani 1980:52). Jin did not found a ryû, but his line of transmission remains strong through the many individuals who learned honkyoku directly from him or from his students.
Seien ryû represents the lineage of the former Fuke temple, Fudaiji (普大寺), which was located in Hamamatsu and founded by Kanemoto Seiin 兼友西園, 1819-1895). Kimpû ryû (錦風流) was originally located in Hirosaki in northern Honshû. It was officially founded by Nyûi Getsuei (乳井月影, 1833-1898) in 1883, but traces its lineage back to Kurihara Kimpû (栗原錦風), a komusô active in Edo during the early 1800s. Though there are very few active members of either of these ryû, their repertoire continues to be transmitted through other lineages and individuals.
Nine lineages related to the Myôan lineage are listed by Tukitani (1990a:5), quoting from "an abridged genealogy of shakuhachi adherents in the Myôan lineage as of February 1936", found in the Shakuhachi shiryô Kyoreizan Myôanji bunken zen (尺八史料虚霊山明暗寺文献 全, Materials on the shakuhachi; all of the documents of the temple Kyoreizan Myôanji, 1937, ed. Tsukamoto Kyodô 塚本虚童). The nine lineages (called ha here) of shakuhachi players of are as follows:
Myôan Shinryô ha (明暗真龍派), also known as the Kansai Shinryô ha (関西真龍派) founded by Matano Shinryô (俣野真龍, 1791-1861),Of the nine ha listed above, only the Taizan ha still functions today as an organizational unit with a significant membership. Although the other eight organizations themselves have virtually ceased to exist, the honkyoku that they transmitted continue to be played. For example, honkyoku of Watazumi are among the most widely performed and appreciated today, due in part to a number of recordings made by Watazumi, but primarily because of the wide exposure given the pieces by one of Watazumi's students, Yokoyama Katsuya. The large number of ha listed above is indicative of the complexity of the transmission lines of koten honkyoku after the abolition of the Fuke sect. It should be noted that the above ha were in no way exclusive, in the way that Tozan ryû, or to a lesser degree the sub-lineages of Kinko ryû are.
Myôan Sôetsu ha (明暗宗悦派), also known as the Kansai Sôetsu ha (関西宗悦派) founded by Kondô Sôetsu (近藤宗悦, 1821?-1867),
Myôan Jimpô ha (明暗真法派) founded by Ozaki Shinryô (尾崎真龍, 1820-1888), teacher of Katsuura Shôzan,
Kyûshû Myôan ha (九州明暗派) founded by Shimizu Jyôzan (or Seizan) (清水静山, 1872-1913),
Myôan Rogetsu ha (明暗露月派) founded by Tsunoda Rogetsu (津野田露月, 1872?-1958),
Myôan Taizan ha (明暗対山派) founded by Higuchi Taizan (樋口対山, 1856-1914),
Fuke Shakuhachi ha (普化尺八派) founded by Miyakawa Nyozan (宮川如山, 1868-1946),
Fuke Myôan ha (普化明暗派, founded by Uramoto Setchô (浦本浙潮, 1891-1965) and
Itchôken Fukkô ha (一朝軒復興派, revived Itchôken ha), also known as the Myôan Manshô ha (明暗萬松派) founded by Tanaka Yûhi (田中雄飛, 1911- ), later known as Watazumi/Wadatsumi Fumon (海童普門), or Watazumidôso (海童道祖).
As stated above, because of the fukiawase system by Kurokawa Kinko, essentially a professional musician in Edo (now Tokyo) in the 18th century, continued after the abolution of the Fuke sect and came to flourish in the post-Fuke sect era of secular music. The Kinko lineage, founded by essentially a professional musician, was in an excellent position to thrive in a post-Fuke sect era of secular music because of the fukiawase system. Because of the complete dissolution of Ichigetsuji and Reihôji, the two temples from which Kinko I operated, the association between them and the Kinko ryû today is not stressed.
The disciples of the Kinko lineage transmit a basically set repertoire of pieces, a particular performance style and techniques, which are believed to have been crystallized by Kinko I and his immediate successors. Sub-lineages within the main Kinko lineage have occurred from as early as the generation after Kinko I. There are at present five or six sub-lineages of the Kinko ryû, called sha or kai, for example, Chikumeisha (竹盟社). All Kinko sub-lineages are completely separate administratively and compete in varying degrees for new members and prestige.
The honkyoku repertoire performed and transmitted by Kinko players are fixed in number (thirty-six), and, to a large degree, in performance practices as well (Tukitani et al. 1991:34). Most of the sub-lineages publish some if not all of the Kinko honkyoku repertoire. Although each Kinko sub-lineage uses slightly different scores and performance techniques for honkyoku (see Gutzwiller 1984:199-217), the distinctive Kinko style can be heard in the playing of all Kinko players.
The degree of standardization which occurs in the number of honkyoku in the Kinko repertoire, the scores for the pieces, the performance practices of those pieces, and the early occurrence of this standardization in time is exceptional in the suizen tradition as a whole. This atypical degree of standardization may be the result of a bureaucratic approach to transmission in contrast to a more musical or spiritual one.
Among the sub-lineages of the Kinko ryû today are those headed by Araki Kodô V (五代目荒木古童, b.1940), Nôtomi Judô II (納富寿童, b.1929), Aoki Reibo II (二代目青木鈴慕, b.1935), Yamaguchi Gorô (山口五郎, b.1933) and Kawase Junsuke III (三代目川瀬順輔, b.1936). See Gutzwiller (1984:24-25) for a lineage chart of the Kinko ryû.
During the Edo period, komusô of the Fuke sect traded honkyoku among themselves while on pilgrimages, either teaching or being taught. In this way the collective repertoire of honkyoku within the Fuke sect was continually being diffused throughout Japan, with a noticeable degree of variation and change occurring in the process. Even the members of the Kinko lineage exchanged pieces with 'non-Kinko members', as evidenced by the Araki score of the piece 'Shika no tône' (see p.32) that was given to a komusô visiting from the country. The sharing and comparing of honkyoku was deeply ingrained in the komusô tradition. The exclusivity of the iemoto system, e.g., that of Tozan ryû, though advantageous in building economically and politically powerful organizations, is diametrically opposed to the spirit of suizen and of koten honkyoku.
Tukitani (1990a:5-6) gives the example of Miyakawa Nyozan as illustrative of the lack of constraint of many shakuhachi players in learning honkyoku of other schools or lineages. Nyozan studied honkyoku from Higuchi Taizan of the Myôan Taizan ha, from Katsuura Shôzan of the Myôan Shinpô ryû and from Hasegawa Tôgaku (長谷川東学, 1847?-1909), a komusô of the Ôshû lineage as transmitted at the temple Futaiken (布袋軒) in northern Japan. Tôgaku also mastered the repertoire and performance practices of his native Kyûshû (he was born in Kumamoto). Tukitani (1986:288-301) states that Nyozan created the honkyoku 'Ajikan' by combining elements of all of the above lineages.
Takahashi Kûzan (高橋空山, 1900-1986) is another example of the eclectic nature of honkyoku transmission. Kûzan is said to have studied with Miyakawa Nyozan and Katsuura Shôzan as well as with Takase Sukeji(高瀬助治), Kobayashi Haou (小林波鴎), Komichi Toyotarô (小路豊太 郎), Kobayashi Shizan (小林紫山) and Okazaki Meidô (岡崎明道). He also played pieces from Kimpû ryû, and is said to have learned over one hundred and fifty honkyoku. Uramoto Setchô and Jin Nyodô also had numerous teachers. Yamaue Getsuzan (山上月山, b. 1908) also devoted his life to learning honkyoku from as many sources as possible, notating honkyoku that he learned and documenting the complex lineages of individual pieces. The material he gathered and arranged is one of the most important sources of data on the transmission of honkyoku during the twentieth century. For example, Yamaue alone learned four versions of 'Reibo' of the Ôshû district, the central piece of this thesis.
Finally, mention must be made of Watazumi Fumon. Originally from Kyûshû, his shakuhachi training began in the Itchôken tradition. As was typically the case, he travelled throughout Japan, learning and teaching honkyoku and eventually developing a repertoire of at least forty pieces (Yokoyama OC1989). He does not call his instruments shakuhachi, instead using the term hôchiku (法竹, 'dharma bamboo'). He also avoids the word honkyoku to indicate pieces that he performs, using instead the term dôkyoku (道曲, 'pieces of the Way', a reference to one of his aliases, Watazumi dôso 海童道祖, literally 'founder of the Way of the ocean-child'). The beauty and intensity of their form and performing style, as well as the high calibre of technique required to play them have made dôkyoku one of the most performed repertoire of honkyoku today.
Watazumi became well-known in the 1960s and 1970s largely due to the efforts of his student, Yokoyama Katsuya, who assisted in the release of a number of Watazumi recordings. Watazumi soon gained notoriety for his eccentric actions, which were usually aimed at destroying set patterns or behaviour and thought. As only one of numerous examples, he was once invited to participate in a tea ceremony, an extremely formalized event in any circumstance. In this instance the ceremony was performed by an elite group of ladies representing Japan's highest society. During the course of the ceremony, in which utensils worth many thousands of dollars were used, Watazumi proceeded to urinate in his tea bowl. The other participants at the ceremony were left speechless (Yokoyama OC1989).
Watazumi's eccentricity is matched by equally outstanding performance techniques, one example being a standard of pitch control rare among shakuhachi players who perform only honkyoku. During his lifetime, Watazumi gained almost legendary stature in the shakuhachi world, with a number of myth-like stories about him circulating widely. One such story relates how Watazumi blew into a shakuhachi with such force and concentration that the bamboo actually split in his hands. Watazumi, and his student Yokoyama, even more so, have given honkyoku in general and the repertoire other than the thirty-six Kinko honkyoku in particular an unprecedented amount of favourable exposure.
Tukitani (1990a:6) estimates the total number of extant honkyoku, including variations, as approximately one-hundred and eighty pieces. This number is reached by adding together the repertoire of the main honkyoku lineages. These lineages and the number of pieces they have transmitted are as follows: thirty-six of Kinko ryû, ten of Kimpû ryû, eleven of Seien ryû, about sixty of Myôan Shinpô ryû, thirty-three of Myôan Taizan ha, about ten of the Kyûshû lineages such as that of the temple Itchôken in Hakata and between ten and twenty transmitted by the Ôshû lineages such as those of the temples Futaiken and Shôganken.
As stated above, the shakuhachi tradition in Japan today is dominated by Kinko ryû, and by Tozan ryû. In terms of numbers of members alone, these two lineages account for the overwhelming majority of contemporary shakuhachi players. The remainder of the shakuhachi tradition consists of a small minority of players, many of whom belong to less prominent organizations such as Chikuho ryû or Taizan ryû, and some of whom are individuals belonging to no organization.30 In terms of the honkyoku repertoire, however, the Kinko ryû, with thirty-six pieces, and the Tozan ryû, with none at all, clearly represent the minority. This is true not only in terms of actual numbers of pieces, but even more so in terms of multifarious transmission processes without which the honkyoku could nothave been handed down.
30. This thesis has deliberately ignored the min'yô shakuhachi tradition, which is vibrant and multifaceted. The omission is due to the limited subject matter of this thesis and is not meant to assign an inferior status to min'yô players.
A more realistic image of the transmission of koten honkyoku is one of diversity, change and variation, of a level of complexity approaching nature itself. As will be shown, most honkyoku undergo variation and/or change in almost all aspects, including their titles, form and performance practices, during the process of transmission. In the face of such complexity, the principle research question of this thesis can be delineated as follows: until what point is a piece still the same piece as the level of difference in name and/or form increases with the process of transmission? A more fundamental question is: what is being transmitted in the koten honkyoku tradition? The remaining chapters of this thesis attempt to address these and related questions. It is hoped that the resultant picture of the honkyoku tradition approximates reality at least to the degree that enables the reader to begin to appreciate the beauty and complexity of shakuhachi honkyoku.
In conclusion, the history of shakuhachi honkyoku shows that their transmission has occurred not through institutions or organizations, but always from one individual to another individual. Though those involved in transmission are frequently classified under a particular ryû or ha, such as Kinko ryû, the individuals who comprise the organisation are, nonetheless, the sole conduit of transmission. In almost every case, shakuhachi organizations are attempts to perpetuate the repertoire and performance style of the founder and immediate successors, and are specifically administered to increase their political and economic influence. This is true not only of shakuhachi organizations existing today but can also be said of the Fuke sect, which for two hundred years monopolized shakuhachi for its own purposes.
Although the Fuke sect existed for two centuries, it did not survive the changes of the Meiji period, and was largely replaced by a number of shakuhachi organizations. The organizational structures within the shakuhachi tradition since the demise of the Fuke sect have tended to flourish for only one, two or at most three generations, after which they usually diverge into either one or more competing institutions or disappear entirely, their repertoire sometimes kept alive only by individuals not affiliated with any organization. Shakuhachi honkyoku transcend the political and economic concerns of the Fuke sect and of these latter day organizations, both as music and as the spiritual practice of suizen. Because of this, shakuhachi honkyoku have survived and will always survive the eventual and inevitable demise of these organizations.
http://rileylee.net/Thesis14Mar06%20Folder/chap3.html
Monday, November 16, 2009
Myoan shakuhachi recorded in 1963
- A while back, I was googling Jin Nyodo just to see what was out there. In one session I came across a reference to a KPFK radio series on traditional Japanese music, and it mentioned a set of performances by Jin Nyodo on Radio Pacifica in the early 1960s. The program was called "Evening on the Roof," and was hosted by Peter Yates. Particularly intriguing was that Jin had apparently played sankyoku as well as honkyoku. Not too long after that, Peter Hill came through LA and we had a day of shakuhachi lessons and general hanging out. The woman who put the day together was Professor Rachael Rudich, who teaches at Pomona College, where we held the day's activities. I got into a conversation with her husband, Ron Sappington, who mentioned that he had salvaged a garage full of old KPFK tapes years ago when the radio station was cleaning house. I mentioned the Jin Nyodo stuff to him, and he dug through the tapes and found the lost Jin Nyodo concerts ( three works for unaccompanied shakuhachi ), as well as some interestingly related stuff - in particular, recordings of Myoan-ji temple komuso playing choshi ( these interesting bamboo flute melodies and sounds ) , and some shomyo chant, both with introductions. Ed Heckerman had a working reel-to-reel tape deck which he lent to Ron. Ron used it to record the stuff and burn it to CDs, and sent me a set of disks. Those music files are now available online as MP3s at: http://shikan.org/KPFK Enjoy! p.s. if anyone has further information on these performances, please let me know so I can add the information to this archive. Posted by Bruce Jones on the Shakuhachi forum http://www.shakuhachiforum.com/viewtopic.php?pid=26571#p26571
Friday, November 06, 2009
Unraveling the tradition...
Based on my interview with an experienced shakuhachi player-scholar in Japan.
1. Kobayashi Shizan (the 36th Abbot of Myoan temple)
In his book Shakuhachi Higi, Kobayashi Shizan writes the shakuhachi should be played with accurate pitches. Meri should be as deep as possible. At least, that's what he preached in his book. However, in reality he was not very particular about pitch. He often said no meri should be added to "tsu" in the chi-chi-u-tsu phrase. That's the myoan way. When he played, his meri was not deep at all.
Today, many people criticize this "myoan" way of playing, especially the degree of meri. Drawing on Kobayashi Shizan's book, Mr. Sakurai in Echigo Nagaoka goes on to say that meri should be as deep as half tone. He claims that Tanikita Muchiku (the 37th Abbot) is to blame for shallow meri rendering.
My interviewee is wise enough to say, "that kind of criticism is fine. It is true that myoan playing often sounds out of pitch. But that shouldn't devalue its essence."
2. Koizumi Ryoan (the 38th Abbot of Myoan Temple)
Koizumi often said "that's fine" even when his students didn't play well after his demonstration. He never said "that's not right" to the face of students. Later, Koizumi had decayed teeth and didn't play well. His students then imitated his decayed performance. Kojima Kansui (the current Aboot) studied with decayed Koizumi. After retiment, Koizumi visited Tokyo (where his son lived). My interviewer played honte choshi in front of him with chi meri. Koizumi responded: "I've taught you only a few times, but you still remember chi meri. You also played tsu meri (as in tsu-ro) right. All of my students don't do well with meri. Without meri, it doesn't sound right."
[To be fair, the degree of chi meri in Honte Choshi varies in Myoan: Played as an independent piece, chi is normal. However, when played as a prelude to Kyorei, Koku, or Mukaiji, chi needs to be meri. That's how I learned from my teacher.]
Not many people know how well Koizumi played before he got weak. After he became ill, his playing changed a lot. Sakai Shodo studied with Koizumi when Koizumi was not doing well. However, Sakai Shodo plays well. So does Shimura Satoshi (Zenpo).
Who is right? :)
KM- http://shakuhachistuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/unraveling-tradition.html
1. Kobayashi Shizan (the 36th Abbot of Myoan temple)
In his book Shakuhachi Higi, Kobayashi Shizan writes the shakuhachi should be played with accurate pitches. Meri should be as deep as possible. At least, that's what he preached in his book. However, in reality he was not very particular about pitch. He often said no meri should be added to "tsu" in the chi-chi-u-tsu phrase. That's the myoan way. When he played, his meri was not deep at all.
Today, many people criticize this "myoan" way of playing, especially the degree of meri. Drawing on Kobayashi Shizan's book, Mr. Sakurai in Echigo Nagaoka goes on to say that meri should be as deep as half tone. He claims that Tanikita Muchiku (the 37th Abbot) is to blame for shallow meri rendering.
My interviewee is wise enough to say, "that kind of criticism is fine. It is true that myoan playing often sounds out of pitch. But that shouldn't devalue its essence."
2. Koizumi Ryoan (the 38th Abbot of Myoan Temple)
Koizumi often said "that's fine" even when his students didn't play well after his demonstration. He never said "that's not right" to the face of students. Later, Koizumi had decayed teeth and didn't play well. His students then imitated his decayed performance. Kojima Kansui (the current Aboot) studied with decayed Koizumi. After retiment, Koizumi visited Tokyo (where his son lived). My interviewer played honte choshi in front of him with chi meri. Koizumi responded: "I've taught you only a few times, but you still remember chi meri. You also played tsu meri (as in tsu-ro) right. All of my students don't do well with meri. Without meri, it doesn't sound right."
[To be fair, the degree of chi meri in Honte Choshi varies in Myoan: Played as an independent piece, chi is normal. However, when played as a prelude to Kyorei, Koku, or Mukaiji, chi needs to be meri. That's how I learned from my teacher.]
Not many people know how well Koizumi played before he got weak. After he became ill, his playing changed a lot. Sakai Shodo studied with Koizumi when Koizumi was not doing well. However, Sakai Shodo plays well. So does Shimura Satoshi (Zenpo).
Who is right? :)
KM- http://shakuhachistuff.blogspot.com/2009/11/unraveling-tradition.html
Monday, November 02, 2009
The Hitori Mondo of Hisamatsu Fuyo
Question. For what purpose do you play the shakuhachi?
Answer. Not for any purpose. You play because you like to.
Q. Then it is not a useless instrument?
A. No it is not a useless instrument. Shakuhachi is a Zen instrument. It should not be treated indiscriminately.
Q. In what way is it a Zen instrument?
A. There is no being in the three worlds (past, present and future), that does not have Zen quality. There is no event that does not have Zen quality. Above all, shakuhachi is not just an instrument one sounds to make music. Following the flow of your breath it becomes your Zen practice. If it is not a Zen instrument, then what is it? Since its essence goes beyond intellect, it is difficult for outsiders to understand.
Q. If you say shakuhachi goes beyond intellect, then how can you explain it in words?
A. To go all the way with intellect, and then go beyond intellect: this is the way to the inconceivable. This is not limited to shakuhachi.
Q. Then please explain first what can be explained with words.
A. This is a clever question, but hard to answer. If I don't say anything, you may think that shakuhachi is in a large sense for the world, and in a small sense for yourself.
Q. In what way do you play for yourself, and in what way for the world?
A. If you do not make it your purpose to abandon all greed and desires, even if you blow the bamboo, it is not Zen practice. If you do not devote yourself to training your mind, you will not penetrate the inner mysteries. If you abandon greed and discipline your mind, you naturally become a direct and unblemished person. If even one person becomes direct and unblemished, is that not for the good of the world and for the good of himself?
Q. What kind of person was Fuke Zenji?
A. I do not know. Better ask someone with more knowledge of Zen.
Q. Wasn't Fuke the ancestor of shakuhachi? If one follows this path but doesn't know its origins, is that not a sign of immaturity?
A. As for myself, because I understand the source of shakuhachi, I say I do not know Fuke. Fuke was an enlightened man, but I do not think he sought his enlightenment by playing shakuhachi. He cannot be compared to an ignorant blind person like me who plays shakuhachi because he enjoys it and has gradually come to know that shakuhachi is a Zen instrument. Even if Fuke had played shakuhachi, it would only have been a passing fancy. His practice of shakuhachi would not compare to my training for many years. If Fuke were to come alive again in this generation he would surely become my disciple and ask me to show him the way. If you look at records from the time of Fuke, and if you know all about his life, but you do not know his enlightenment, then you do not know Fuke. On the other hand, a person who knows nothing of his life, but knows his enlightenment, he knows Fuke. I do not know him yet.
Q. Are the twelve tones inherent in shakuhachi?
A. The bamboo has one tone which depends on whether it is long or short, and whether it is thin or thick. It does not have the twelve tones. There are the twelve tones in nature and the twelve tones in humans. If one can capture the twelve tones of nature even for a short while in the tube of the bamboo, the human body can feel them. When the human body feels them, the twelve tones in the body arise naturally. However, depending on a person's character, there are those who are sensitive to the tones, and those who are insensitive. If you try to teach an insensitive person, he will not understand. But one who is sensitive to the tones will experience this phenomenon naturally by himself.
Q. The fixed form of shakuhachi has four holes on its two front surfaces and one hole behind and it has seven nodes. The length is fixed at one shaku eight sun. Is there any reason for each of these points?
A. Shakuhachi is a Zen instrument, so its length is determined to be one foot eight inches, and it is called shakuhachi. Each symbol has arisen from the yin and yang principle of the universe. These symbols cannot be explained in a short time. If you interpret them in your own way, it will not make sense. If you know all those things, it will not make your playing any better; if you don't know them, it will not make your playing worse. A person who wants to know those things should study and learn them. I am not concerned with knowledge. I only know that shakuhachi makes sounds when you blow it.
Q. There are people who count up from the bottom hole one., two, ... and there are people who count down from the top hole one, two ... Which is right and which is wrong?
A. Whichever one you call right is right. Whichever one you call wrong is wrong. Counting is originally created by people; it is not inherently contained in the bamboo. People who think it proper to count down from the top make that right; people who think it proper to count up from the bottom make that right. Since I learned to count one, two from the bottom, I consider that right. When you understand the inner secrets, it becomes clear that the bottom is number one. When you grasp it, it is likely to feel like just waking from a dream. However if you neglect asking questions, you may regret spending fruitless hours and days.
Q. The shakuhachi is made from the bottom of the bamboo, while the hitoyogiri is made from the upper part of the bamboo. What is the difference between the bottom and upper part?
A. The difference between the bottom and the upper part is too obvious to talk about. The human heart is as wide as the universe, however people restrict themselves so they are not free to move. When someone like you asks such questions like a frog in a well I have to laugh. Haven't people said from ancient past that shakuhachi has seven nodes? Yet in recent times many people have called something with six of five nodes shakuhachi. In past and present times, the human heart has not changed. If there are changes, it is only because people have become slack in following the way. With shakuhachi the number of nodes and the length is up to your heart. There is no need to be concerned with the shape of the bamboo or the number of nodes. If you are concerned with form, then you must not break the traditional rules. But if you concentrate on emptiness, then you should not be attached to the old ways.
There is shakuhachi as Zen instrument, and there is shakuhachi for entertainment. The Zen instrument shakuhachi is emptiness. The shakuhachi for entertainment is form. There are many people who amuse themselves with shakuhachi as a pleasure instrument; those who study shakuhachi as a Zen instrument are rare. I follow Zen practice with shakuhachi as a Zen instrument, so I am not concerned with the length or number of nodes.
Q. At what period of time was the number of pieces fixed at 36?
A. Kinko III told me that the basic and applied pieces make 36, to which one adds the three secret pieces. He said they were fixed by Kinko I. Since I have not inquired especially about these matters, I cannot say that I know.
Q. There is a kind of notation for the pieces. In what period was this fixed?
A. I have heard that Kinko II and his disciple Ikkan fixed the notation, but I have no evidence, so I cannot say if it is true?
Q. If you can play each piece without deviating from the notation, are you considered a good player?
A. No. Someone who can play the pieces with no deviation from the notation has a good memory, but that is not enough to make him a good player. Like a guardian of the notation, is it so difficult to learn these thirty-six pieces? Most people could learn one piece in each month. To be a good player does not depend on the number of pieces, but on how you play one piece.
39 pieces lie within 36 pieces.
36 pieces lie within 18 pieces.
18 pieces lie within 3 pieces.
3 pieces lie within one piece.
One piece lies within no piece.
A breath lies within emptiness and nothingness.
So you see the number of pieces doesn't mean anything.
Q. Then is it all right to deviate from the notation?
A. To deviate from the notation is against the rules. The notation was fixed for fear of the shakuhachi tradition falling into confusion. If you play falsely from the time when you are a beginner, or if you play according to your feelings, even if the sound of the bamboo is heard as beautiful, you will not realize the Zen quality of shakuhachi. But if you blow shakuhachi, and if you know the emptiness of shakuhachi, then there is no need to be concerned with notation. The notation was fixed so as to lead beginners to the realization of the emptiness of shakuhachi. So isn't it absurd to deviate from the notation?
Q. Do you play with no deviation from the notation?
A. I do not deviate from the notation, yet there are great differences. For example, you are a person and I am a person. We have the same body, hair, and bowels, and yet there are great differences. Now think for yourself about the distinction between deviating from the notation and having great differences.
Q. Then please tell me, what makes a good player, and what makes a master?
A. A good player is one who makes the bamboo shaft alive. A master naturally and effortlessly brings forth something inconceivable. However, without study it is impossible to enter the boundaries of mastery. You become the bamboo. The bamboo becomes you. A master lives in emptiness while working in form. Then playing each piece becomes Kyorei. Emptiness is taking the name of Kyorei as the essence of each piece. Emptiness is calling oneself Kyomu (emptiness and nothingness). The Zen practice of living in emptiness and working in form applies to the self and the heart. It is hard for inexperienced people to understand.
Q. Are there any masters living now?
A. There are none. I cannot even see a person who understands this practice.
Q. Are you a master, a good player, or a poor player?
A. I am a master, I am a good player, and I am a poor player. I know the boundaries of mastery, but cannot enter. I do my practice in the realm of a good player, but have not reached the highest level. So doesn't that make me a very poor player?
Q. With what contemporary player can you compare yourself?
A. I cannot measure up to anyone. When I compare myself to my heart, I cannot measure up to my heart, and my heart does not measure up to me. Then how can I compare myself to others? When my thoughts, imagination and concentration become one within myself, then I will call myself a good player, even a master. I enjoy each moment by doing my Zen practice in my heart and myself and realizing the way. I just hold the bamboo and blow it.
Already people have stopped asking questions and have closed their mouths. Therefore I call this writing Hitori Mondo (self questioning). What a waste of paper and ink to write this!
The 6th year of Bunsei (1823), late fall
A hermit of Edo, Fuyo Suga no Sadaharu
Translated by Robin Hartshorne and Kazuaki Tanahashi
Excerpted from “The Annuls of the International Shakuhachi Society Volume 1”
See “Volume 1” for additional information.
http://www.komuso.com/people/Hisamatsu_Fuyo.html
Answer. Not for any purpose. You play because you like to.
Q. Then it is not a useless instrument?
A. No it is not a useless instrument. Shakuhachi is a Zen instrument. It should not be treated indiscriminately.
Q. In what way is it a Zen instrument?
A. There is no being in the three worlds (past, present and future), that does not have Zen quality. There is no event that does not have Zen quality. Above all, shakuhachi is not just an instrument one sounds to make music. Following the flow of your breath it becomes your Zen practice. If it is not a Zen instrument, then what is it? Since its essence goes beyond intellect, it is difficult for outsiders to understand.
Q. If you say shakuhachi goes beyond intellect, then how can you explain it in words?
A. To go all the way with intellect, and then go beyond intellect: this is the way to the inconceivable. This is not limited to shakuhachi.
Q. Then please explain first what can be explained with words.
A. This is a clever question, but hard to answer. If I don't say anything, you may think that shakuhachi is in a large sense for the world, and in a small sense for yourself.
Q. In what way do you play for yourself, and in what way for the world?
A. If you do not make it your purpose to abandon all greed and desires, even if you blow the bamboo, it is not Zen practice. If you do not devote yourself to training your mind, you will not penetrate the inner mysteries. If you abandon greed and discipline your mind, you naturally become a direct and unblemished person. If even one person becomes direct and unblemished, is that not for the good of the world and for the good of himself?
Q. What kind of person was Fuke Zenji?
A. I do not know. Better ask someone with more knowledge of Zen.
Q. Wasn't Fuke the ancestor of shakuhachi? If one follows this path but doesn't know its origins, is that not a sign of immaturity?
A. As for myself, because I understand the source of shakuhachi, I say I do not know Fuke. Fuke was an enlightened man, but I do not think he sought his enlightenment by playing shakuhachi. He cannot be compared to an ignorant blind person like me who plays shakuhachi because he enjoys it and has gradually come to know that shakuhachi is a Zen instrument. Even if Fuke had played shakuhachi, it would only have been a passing fancy. His practice of shakuhachi would not compare to my training for many years. If Fuke were to come alive again in this generation he would surely become my disciple and ask me to show him the way. If you look at records from the time of Fuke, and if you know all about his life, but you do not know his enlightenment, then you do not know Fuke. On the other hand, a person who knows nothing of his life, but knows his enlightenment, he knows Fuke. I do not know him yet.
Q. Are the twelve tones inherent in shakuhachi?
A. The bamboo has one tone which depends on whether it is long or short, and whether it is thin or thick. It does not have the twelve tones. There are the twelve tones in nature and the twelve tones in humans. If one can capture the twelve tones of nature even for a short while in the tube of the bamboo, the human body can feel them. When the human body feels them, the twelve tones in the body arise naturally. However, depending on a person's character, there are those who are sensitive to the tones, and those who are insensitive. If you try to teach an insensitive person, he will not understand. But one who is sensitive to the tones will experience this phenomenon naturally by himself.
Q. The fixed form of shakuhachi has four holes on its two front surfaces and one hole behind and it has seven nodes. The length is fixed at one shaku eight sun. Is there any reason for each of these points?
A. Shakuhachi is a Zen instrument, so its length is determined to be one foot eight inches, and it is called shakuhachi. Each symbol has arisen from the yin and yang principle of the universe. These symbols cannot be explained in a short time. If you interpret them in your own way, it will not make sense. If you know all those things, it will not make your playing any better; if you don't know them, it will not make your playing worse. A person who wants to know those things should study and learn them. I am not concerned with knowledge. I only know that shakuhachi makes sounds when you blow it.
Q. There are people who count up from the bottom hole one., two, ... and there are people who count down from the top hole one, two ... Which is right and which is wrong?
A. Whichever one you call right is right. Whichever one you call wrong is wrong. Counting is originally created by people; it is not inherently contained in the bamboo. People who think it proper to count down from the top make that right; people who think it proper to count up from the bottom make that right. Since I learned to count one, two from the bottom, I consider that right. When you understand the inner secrets, it becomes clear that the bottom is number one. When you grasp it, it is likely to feel like just waking from a dream. However if you neglect asking questions, you may regret spending fruitless hours and days.
Q. The shakuhachi is made from the bottom of the bamboo, while the hitoyogiri is made from the upper part of the bamboo. What is the difference between the bottom and upper part?
A. The difference between the bottom and the upper part is too obvious to talk about. The human heart is as wide as the universe, however people restrict themselves so they are not free to move. When someone like you asks such questions like a frog in a well I have to laugh. Haven't people said from ancient past that shakuhachi has seven nodes? Yet in recent times many people have called something with six of five nodes shakuhachi. In past and present times, the human heart has not changed. If there are changes, it is only because people have become slack in following the way. With shakuhachi the number of nodes and the length is up to your heart. There is no need to be concerned with the shape of the bamboo or the number of nodes. If you are concerned with form, then you must not break the traditional rules. But if you concentrate on emptiness, then you should not be attached to the old ways.
There is shakuhachi as Zen instrument, and there is shakuhachi for entertainment. The Zen instrument shakuhachi is emptiness. The shakuhachi for entertainment is form. There are many people who amuse themselves with shakuhachi as a pleasure instrument; those who study shakuhachi as a Zen instrument are rare. I follow Zen practice with shakuhachi as a Zen instrument, so I am not concerned with the length or number of nodes.
Q. At what period of time was the number of pieces fixed at 36?
A. Kinko III told me that the basic and applied pieces make 36, to which one adds the three secret pieces. He said they were fixed by Kinko I. Since I have not inquired especially about these matters, I cannot say that I know.
Q. There is a kind of notation for the pieces. In what period was this fixed?
A. I have heard that Kinko II and his disciple Ikkan fixed the notation, but I have no evidence, so I cannot say if it is true?
Q. If you can play each piece without deviating from the notation, are you considered a good player?
A. No. Someone who can play the pieces with no deviation from the notation has a good memory, but that is not enough to make him a good player. Like a guardian of the notation, is it so difficult to learn these thirty-six pieces? Most people could learn one piece in each month. To be a good player does not depend on the number of pieces, but on how you play one piece.
39 pieces lie within 36 pieces.
36 pieces lie within 18 pieces.
18 pieces lie within 3 pieces.
3 pieces lie within one piece.
One piece lies within no piece.
A breath lies within emptiness and nothingness.
So you see the number of pieces doesn't mean anything.
Q. Then is it all right to deviate from the notation?
A. To deviate from the notation is against the rules. The notation was fixed for fear of the shakuhachi tradition falling into confusion. If you play falsely from the time when you are a beginner, or if you play according to your feelings, even if the sound of the bamboo is heard as beautiful, you will not realize the Zen quality of shakuhachi. But if you blow shakuhachi, and if you know the emptiness of shakuhachi, then there is no need to be concerned with notation. The notation was fixed so as to lead beginners to the realization of the emptiness of shakuhachi. So isn't it absurd to deviate from the notation?
Q. Do you play with no deviation from the notation?
A. I do not deviate from the notation, yet there are great differences. For example, you are a person and I am a person. We have the same body, hair, and bowels, and yet there are great differences. Now think for yourself about the distinction between deviating from the notation and having great differences.
Q. Then please tell me, what makes a good player, and what makes a master?
A. A good player is one who makes the bamboo shaft alive. A master naturally and effortlessly brings forth something inconceivable. However, without study it is impossible to enter the boundaries of mastery. You become the bamboo. The bamboo becomes you. A master lives in emptiness while working in form. Then playing each piece becomes Kyorei. Emptiness is taking the name of Kyorei as the essence of each piece. Emptiness is calling oneself Kyomu (emptiness and nothingness). The Zen practice of living in emptiness and working in form applies to the self and the heart. It is hard for inexperienced people to understand.
Q. Are there any masters living now?
A. There are none. I cannot even see a person who understands this practice.
Q. Are you a master, a good player, or a poor player?
A. I am a master, I am a good player, and I am a poor player. I know the boundaries of mastery, but cannot enter. I do my practice in the realm of a good player, but have not reached the highest level. So doesn't that make me a very poor player?
Q. With what contemporary player can you compare yourself?
A. I cannot measure up to anyone. When I compare myself to my heart, I cannot measure up to my heart, and my heart does not measure up to me. Then how can I compare myself to others? When my thoughts, imagination and concentration become one within myself, then I will call myself a good player, even a master. I enjoy each moment by doing my Zen practice in my heart and myself and realizing the way. I just hold the bamboo and blow it.
Already people have stopped asking questions and have closed their mouths. Therefore I call this writing Hitori Mondo (self questioning). What a waste of paper and ink to write this!
The 6th year of Bunsei (1823), late fall
A hermit of Edo, Fuyo Suga no Sadaharu
Translated by Robin Hartshorne and Kazuaki Tanahashi
Excerpted from “The Annuls of the International Shakuhachi Society Volume 1”
See “Volume 1” for additional information.
http://www.komuso.com/people/Hisamatsu_Fuyo.html
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Shofukuji Temple
Shofukuji was constructed in 1195 by a monk named Eisai, shortly after he returned from China in order to introduce the Rinzai Zen sect to Japan. As a result, Shofukuji is considered Japan's first Zen temple. From the perspective of shakuhachi however, Iccho-ken holds a much more important place. It is one of only two or three temples remaining in Japan where Kumoso monks of the Fuke-shu would play shakuhachi as part of their spiritual practice. It is the temple from which a number of the pieces that I play and teach originally come, and it is also where the famous shakuhachi player Watazumido resided. For these reasons I felt compelled to go there.
http://www.nyoraku.bizland.com/news.html
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