Jakusui: Before going to India, you practiced zazen for a year with Zen Master Mori. Did your training change after ordination?

Priest Danjo: Yes, it did. After ordination, I trained at a specialized Zen dojo at a training temple in Kyoto. I'll share this story from two perspectives: first, the period before and after ordination, and second, the contrast between my novice monk life at a Hiroshima Zen temple after ordination and my training life at the specialized Kyoto dojo.

For me, the best memories is about a year before going to the Kyoto training temple, spending time with Zen Master Mori, sharing various conversations.

About twice a day, over matcha tea and the sweets made by Zen Master Mori's wife, I would bombard him with questions. My first lesson as a novice monk came from Zen Master Mori himself: “For now, just ‘praise’. Praise anything and everything.”

“Yes. Praising is my specialty. From now on, I'll praise everything!” I replied. After that, whenever I met someone, I would greet them loudly: “Good morning! That's a lovely apron color,” or “You look full of energy today,” or “What a wonderful hairstyle!”

One day around three in the afternoon, Zen Master Mori said, “Ken, let's have some tea,” and while he prepared matcha, he asked, “Did you praise people properly this week?”

When I answered, “Yes, Master, I've been praising diligently,”

he asked, “What did you praise? Tell me.”

“Well, the other day, the housekeeper was wearing an apron, so I praised her, ‘What a lovely color on your apron.’ And when eating rice, I said, ‘What a beautiful rice bowl.’ I've been praising constantly.”

“I see, I see. You have done very well.”

Zen Master Mori bowed his head and said quietly,

“I have something to say, Ken-san. Can you only praise people? There are plenty of things to praise, aren't there? The flowers on your way to the temple in the morning, the trees, even a single insect—aren't they all living beings? Why can't you praise them?”

It was quite a shock to me.

Ah, yes. I'd only ever thought about people. I'd never once praised grass or trees before. I came to understand that this is one way Zen practice works. Since then, even if I don't say it out loud, I've become someone who casually praises things—saying “Good morning” to flowers or “Hello” to insects when I see them.

Jakusui: Praising things like insects or flowers that can't understand words is amazing. Didn't you feel uncomfortable at first?

Priest Danjo: Uncomfortable? I did feel a little at first. But I realized I had to become pure myself. “I'm human, you're an insect” – to communicate, I had to consciously strive to be pure.

Looking back now, I think my master's teaching was that I had to gradually lose my sense of self. Only when I can praise anything I see can the joy I felt after drinking that sacred water in the mountains of Tottori Prefecture truly remain within my heart.

After all, humans have ups and downs. Some days we feel great, others awful. You might think, “That person said this to me. Damn it!” Right? If you just leave it like that, you'll become that “damn it” version of yourself forever.

On the other hand, if you keep praising things and make it a habit, you won't become that damn it self at all. That was something I truly experienced through my master's words. Then there's the phrase “It's okay.”

One day, after breakfast with Zen Master Mori, we were drinking tea, when he asked, “What do you plan to do today?”

“Yes, today I plan to clean my room, weed the garden, and tidy up around the main hall.”

“Ken, are you really okay?”

I bowed my head and replied, “Yes, I'm fine.” The moment I bowed, he suddenly tapped my head with his folding fan. Zen Master Mori always carried a red fan, and it didn't hurt when he tapped me with it.

“Huh? Why did he tap me?” It was just when I had just started my life as a novice monk, so I wondered if it meant something.

“You, tell me again what we're doing today,” Zen Master Mori said, so I repeated today's schedule.

“You, are you really okay?” he asked.

"Yes, I'm really okay (daijōbu in Japanese). I'll do it properly."

As I said this and bowed my head, I got another “tap.” After being hit twice, I thought, “Huh? This must mean something significant,” and asked, “Zen Master Mori, you just hit me twice. What does that mean?”

Then he asked, “Do you know the meaning of ‘daijōbu’?”

“Huh?”

“‘Daijōbu’ is a Buddhist term. The state of being connected to gods and Buddhas is called ‘daijō’. ‘Fu (bu)’ means ‘person’. In temples, the large main hall where everyone gathers is called the ‘daijō no ma’ (Great Hall), which originally means the space where one connects with gods and Buddhas. From now on, whenever you use the word ‘daijōbu’, first confirm whether you yourself are connected to the gods and Buddhas before saying ‘daijōbu’. Treasure that ‘daijōbu’.”

This was a profoundly meaningful phrase for me. Getting hit twice was worth it. Now I say “It's okay, it's okay” all the time, but the part my master said about “connecting with gods and buddhas” became the starting point of my learning.

Jakusui: Sorry. What does “connecting with gods and buddhas” actually feel like?

Priest Danjo: It's hard to put into words...

To give an analogy, when you think “I want money,” you naturally head in the direction of “connecting with money,” right? If you work hard believing in the god who creates money, you connect with money, and as a result, money might come to you.

But connecting with the gods and buddhas means you yourself must always be pure. You must become truly pure, free of desire. You might even need to become as pure as unconditional love.

For example, trees stand there living their lives, but they don't just stand still. They provide oxygen, vital for humans. Though they can't move in the scorching summer or freezing winter, they offer a place where all sorts of insects connected to them can thrive.

A tree's role is to absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen. Yet it does this quietly, fulfilling its duty for no one in particular. My master often said: the trees are the ones who meditate the most.

"There are trees that have been sitting in meditation for four thousand years. Think about the trees. If you do, you'll want to sit in meditation yourself if you wish to live long!

But it's precisely because they are ‘connected’ to something that they have lived for four thousand years. Ken, do you know what the trees are connected to? 　They are sustained by being connected to rain, water, light, and every nutrient in the soil. It's not just one thing; only by connecting to many things can you truly say they are ‘connected’."

Thinking about it now in my own way, I suppose what my master was trying to say was about “connection.”

If a truly pure feeling of gratitude is awakened within you, it naturally connects you to something. But if you stray from that grateful heart and become arrogant yourself, what do you think will happen?

Jakusui: What changes when we express gratitude?

Priest Danjo: I asked the same question back then.

“Teacher, what does that mean?” I asked.

“It means gratitude, saying ‘thank you’.”

“No matter how wonderful a human society we build, war and famine still occur somewhere, right?”

"In Buddhism, there is new Buddhism and old Buddhism. If you become arrogant, it will decay from somewhere. Our lives flow here connected to the ties of the Buddha 2,500 years ago. Life flows because of karmic connection with the Buddha and gratitude. How much gratitude do you have? Your life as a novice monk is first about deepening that gratitude. You can't truly praise someone without a heart of gratitude."

Regarding the current war between Russia and Ukraine, and other nations too, the news only frames it as “this person is good, that person is bad.” But I believe humans aren't inherently evil. What matters is how you personally feel about their actions, not others' opinions. If you harbor anger like, “Such a terrible person shouldn't exist in this world,” that distances you from gratitude.

On the other hand, if you think, “Because this person exists, I can learn about human goodness and evil, and I'm grateful for that,” then even towards a cruel person, a feeling of gratitude can arise.

Jakusui: Gratitude even towards bad people? That's deep. By the way, when you did zazen with Zen Master Mori, did he give you any specific guidance on sitting posture, breathing, or anything concrete?

Priest Danjo: Yes. He taught me that when doing zazen, the place to focus your awareness while breathing is the dantian (lower abdomen). He taught me to concentrate on that dantian.