tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9404072.post113929282361319173..comments2023-04-11T07:49:48.611-07:00Comments on Daruma Pilgrims in Japan: Kanzan JittokuGabi Grevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16362456518166174106noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9404072.post-44871354587886751462015-11-06T16:57:57.333-08:002015-11-06T16:57:57.333-08:00On Cold Mountain: A Buddhist Reading of the Hansha...<b>On Cold Mountain: A Buddhist Reading of the Hanshan Poems<br />November 2, 2015<br />by Paul Rouzer (Author) </b><br />.<br />In this first serious study of Hanshan ("Cold Mountain"), Paul Rouzer discusses some seventy poems of the iconic Chinese poet who lived sometime during the Tang dynasty (618–907). Hanshan's poems gained a large readership in English-speaking countries following the publication of Jack Kerouac's novel The Dharma Bums (1958) and Gary Snyder's translations (which began to appear that same year), and they have been translated into English more than any other body of Chinese verse.<br /><br />Rouzer investigates how Buddhism defined the way that believers may have read Hanshan in premodern times. He proposes a Buddhist poetics as a counter-model to the Confucian assumptions of Chinese literary thought and examines how texts by Kerouac, Snyder, and Jane Hirshfield respond to the East Asian Buddhist tradition.<br />.<br />at amazon com<br />.Gabi Grevehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16362456518166174106noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9404072.post-75767905794255752212007-08-24T00:28:00.000-07:002007-08-24T00:28:00.000-07:00HanshanBy ReisaiImportant Cultural Propertyhttp://...<B><BR/>Hanshan</B><BR/>By Reisai<BR/>Important Cultural Property<BR/><BR/>http://www.tnm.jp/en/exhibition/special/images/200707gozan/013kanzanzu.jpg<BR/><BR/>Gozan refers to the group of highest-ranked Zen temples in Japan modeled after a Chinese system of monasteries. In Kyoto, Nanzenji was the highest ranked among the Gozan temples, followed by the other five: <B>Tenryuji, Shokokuji, Kenninji, Tofukuji, and Manjuji. </B><BR/><BR/>After the Gozan system was introduced to Japan, it underwent several changes, and in 1386 Kyoto Gozan was confirmed when the Shogun Yoshimitsu designated Nanzenji the head of the Kyoto Gozan temples, including Shokokuji which he founded. <BR/><BR/>The Gozan temples led a great network of Zen temples throughout the country. Because of the interchange of Zen monks between China and Japan, Chinese culture took root in the Kyoto Gozan and other Japanese Zen temples, which greatly influenced on the culture of this period. <BR/><BR/>In addition, the Zen priests of the Kyoto Gozan played an important role in Yoshimitsu's revival of official relations with China.<BR/><BR/>This exhibition, <B>"Zen Treasures from the Kyoto Gozan Temples", </B>in commemoration of the 600th anniversary of Ashikaga Yoshimitsu, presents famous works of Zen culture from the Kamakura period through the Muromachi period, from the Kyoto Gozan and related temples. New important information gained from the research for this exhibition is also introduced. There are many works of principle images and portrait sculptures of Zen monks, which are shown outside the temples for the first time. <BR/><BR/>Through the 230 some exhibits, you can overview the process by which the Zen culture, introduced from China, became a part of the traditional courtly culture of Kyoto.<BR/><BR/>http://www.tnm.jp/en/servlet/Con?pageId=A01&processId=02&event_id=4227Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9404072.post-41564177858041621342007-07-17T22:52:00.000-07:002007-07-17T22:52:00.000-07:00Quote from Zenfroghttp://thezenfrog.wordpress.com/...Quote from Zenfrog<BR/>http://thezenfrog.wordpress.com/2007/07/09/cold-mountain-selected-poems-by-the-great-chan-master-han-shan-te-ching/#more-882<BR/><BR/>Cold Mountain - Selected Poems<BR/><BR/>By Han Shan (Cold Mountain)<BR/><BR/><BR/>Here we languish, a bunch of poor scholars,<BR/>battered by extremes of hunger and cold.<BR/>Out of work, our only joy is poetry:<BR/>Scribble, scribble, we wear out our brains.<BR/>Who will read the works of such men?<BR/>On that point you can save your sighs.<BR/>We could inscribe our poems on biscuits<BR/>And the homeless dogs wouldn’t deign to nibble<BR/><BR/>Hermits hide from mankind<BR/>Most go to the mountains to sleep<BR/>Where green vines wind through woods<BR/>And jade gorges echo unbroken<BR/>Higher and higher enraptured<BR/>On and on simply free<BR/>Free of what stains the world<BR/>Minds pure like the white lotus<BR/><BR/>If you are looking for a place to rest,<BR/>Cold Mountain is a good place to stay.<BR/>The breeze flowing through the dark pines<BR/>Sounds better the closer you come.<BR/>And under the trees a white-haired man<BR/>Mumbles over his Taoist texts.<BR/>Ten years now he hasn’t gone home;<BR/>He has even forgotten the road he came by.<BR/><BR/>High on the mountain’s peak<BR/>Infinity in all directions!<BR/>The solitary moon looks down<BR/>From its midnight loft<BR/>Admires its reflection in the icy pond.<BR/>Shivering, I serenade the moon.<BR/><BR/>I climb the road to Cold Mountain,<BR/>The road to Cold Mountain that never ends.<BR/>The valleys are long and strewn with stones;<BR/>The streams broad and filled with thick grass.<BR/>Moss is slippery though no rain has fallen;<BR/>Pines sigh but it isn’t the wind.<BR/>Who can break from the snares of the world<BR/>And sit with me among the white clouds?<BR/><BR/><BR/>Have I a body or have I none?<BR/>Am I who I am or am I not?<BR/>Pondering these questions,<BR/>I sit leaning against the cliff as the years go by,<BR/>Till the green grass grows between my feet<BR/>And the red dust settles on my head,<BR/>And the men of the world, thinking me dead,<BR/>Come with offerings of wine and fruit to lay by my corpse.<BR/><BR/>The place where I spend my days<BR/>Is farther away than I can tell.<BR/>Without a word the wild vines stir,<BR/>No fog, yet the bamboos are always dark.<BR/>Who do the valleys sob for?<BR/>Why do the mists huddle together?<BR/>At noon, sitting in my hut<BR/>I realize for the first time that the sun has risen.<BR/><BR/>Today I sat before the cliffs<BR/>Sat until the mist blew off<BR/>A rambling clear stream shore<BR/>A towering green ridge crest<BR/>Cloud’s dawn shadows still<BR/>Moon’s night light adrift<BR/>Body free of dust<BR/>Mind without a care.<BR/><BR/>People ask about Cold Mountain Way;<BR/>There’s no Cold Mountain Road that goes straight through:<BR/>By summer, lingering cold is not dispersed,<BR/>By fog, the risen sun is screened from view;<BR/>So how did one like me get onto it?<BR/>In our hearts, I’m not the same as you –<BR/>If in your heart you should become like me,<BR/>Then you can reach the center of it too.<BR/>Among a thousand clouds and ten thousand streams,<BR/>Here lives an idle man,<BR/>In the daytime wandering over green mountains<BR/>At night coming home to sleep by the cliff.<BR/>Swiftly the springs and autumns pass,<BR/>But my mind is at peace, free from dust or delusion<BR/>How pleasant to know I need nothing to lean on<BR/>To be still as the waters of the autumn river!<BR/><BR/>Thirty years ago I was born into the world.<BR/>A thousand, ten thousand miles I’ve roamed.<BR/>By rivers where the green grass grows thick,<BR/>Beyond the border where the red sands fly.<BR/>I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,<BR/>I read books, I sang songs of history,<BR/>And today I’ve come home to Cold Mountain<BR/>To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.<BR/><BR/>You have seen the blossoms among the leaves;<BR/>tell me, how long will they stay?<BR/>Today they tremble before the hand that picks them;<BR/>tomorrow they wait someone’s garden broom.<BR/>Wonderful is the bright heart of youth,<BR/>but with the years it grows old.<BR/>Is the world not like these flowers?<BR/>Ruddy faces, how can they last?<BR/><BR/>I spur my horse past the ruined city;<BR/>the ruined city, that wakes the traveler’s thoughts:<BR/>ancient battlements, high and low;<BR/>old grave mounds, great and small.<BR/>Where the shadow of a single tumbleweed trembles<BR/>and the voice of the great trees clings forever,<BR/>I sigh over all these common bones –<BR/>No roll of the immortals bears their names.<BR/><BR/><BR/>When I see a fellow abusing others,<BR/>I think of a man with a basketful of water.<BR/>As fast as he can, he runs with it home,<BR/>but when he gets there, what’s left in the basket?<BR/>When I see a man being abused by others,<BR/>I think of the leek growing in the garden.<BR/>Day after day men pull off the leaves,<BR/>but the heart it was born with remains the same.<BR/><BR/>Cold Cliff’s remoteness<BR/>Is what I love<BR/>No one travels this way<BR/>Clouds lie around on the peaks<BR/>A lone gibbon howls on the ridge<BR/>What else do I cherish?<BR/>It’s good to grow old content<BR/>Cold and heat change my<BR/>Appearance;the pearl<BR/>Of my mind stays safe<BR/><BR/>Cold Mountain is a house<BR/>Without beams or walls.<BR/>The six doors left and right are open<BR/>The hall is blue sky.<BR/>The rooms all vacant and vague<BR/>The east wall beats on the west wall<BR/>At the center nothing.<BR/>Borrowers don’t bother me<BR/>In the cold I build a little fire<BR/>When I’m hungry I boil up some greens.<BR/>I’ve got no use for the kulak<BR/>With his big barn and pasture –<BR/>He just sets up a prison for himself.<BR/>Once in he can’t get out.<BR/>Think it over –<BR/>You know it might happen to you.<BR/><BR/>On the peak of the highest mountain,<BR/>the four directions expand to infinity.<BR/>Sitting in silence,<BR/>no one knows.<BR/>The solitary moon shines on the cold spring.<BR/>Here in the spring there is no moon.<BR/>It is high in the sky.<BR/>Though I’m humming this song,<BR/>in the song there is no Ch’an.<BR/><BR/>(C) http://thezenfrog.wordpress.com/Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com