Jakusui: How was the training hall?

Priest Danjo: To put it simply, we woke up at 3:30 AM and cleaned our immediate surroundings. Everything had to run on schedule, so by 4:00 AM, we were seated in the main hall chanting sutras together.

After the sutra service, it's time for zazen. During zazen, there's a Zen koan, Zen dialogue.

After zazen, we quietly eat rice porridge and pickles. Then, starting at 7:00 AM, we put on straw sandals and go out for alms-seeking. Wearing an ajiro umbrella and leg wraps, we go out into the streets of Kyoto for alms-seeking.

We return to the dojo around 10:00. We take off our straw sandals, wash our feet, and have lunch starting at 11:00. After about an hour's rest following lunch, samu (temple work) begins at 1:00 PM. This involves cleaning various areas within the temple grounds or occasionally pruning trees.

In the evening, around 4:00, evening services begin. This means chanting sutras and then entering zazen again. Dinner is called yakuseki. After eating, there's more zazen. Around 9 PM, we begin yozan, which is zazen sitting outside.

Normally, you'd sit inside a building, but this is done outside, even in the dead of winter, on the veranda of a Kyoto temple, exposed to the wind. In summer, there's a pond right in front, and it felt like constantly donating blood to the mosquitoes. Once you enter zazen, you can't move, even if mosquitoes bite you.

Well, you get used to it eventually, but after just one week, I thought, “I can't keep doing this. I just can't handle this anymore,” and I consulted Zen Master Mori. “I can't continue here anymore, so I'd like to stop my training.”

Zen Master Mori smiled broadly and said, "If you absolutely want to quit, you can. But at least endure it for three years. As the saying goes, ‘Three years on a stone.’ If you can manage that, you'll be halfway there."

In Zen Buddhism, the master's words are absolute; the idea is that you follow the direction the master sets for you. When the master said that, I couldn't quit. For me back then, everything was completely new. I didn't even know the names of the temple decorations. I didn't even know what I didn't know. My seniors were tired of me, and it was tough. But that one thing my master said made me resolve, “I'll push through for three years.”

Unlike my previous daily life, I couldn't read newspapers or watch TV at all. That stress was huge, I think. All that time I'd spent so freely before, suddenly became a situation where I couldn't contact anyone, couldn't read books. After about a year, my body gradually got used to that rhythm of life. I'd wake at 3 AM, and evening meditation lasted from 9 PM until past midnight.

I could finally sleep around 1 AM, only to be awakened at 3 AM the next morning, leaving me about two hours of sleep. This went on day after day. I'd fall asleep anywhere. I was always half-asleep, every single day. I truly believe one should undertake this training while young and energetic.

Once you're older, it becomes much harder to adapt to that rhythm. After a year, once I got used to it, I found a rhythm where I thought, “Ah, I think I can manage this,” and from there, I pushed myself towards the three-year goal.

Jakusui: Did you gain more from that rigorous training than from your previous practice?

Priest Danjo: Yes. It was the first time in my life I lived in such a group setting, doing things according to a rigidly fixed schedule. The gap and stress compared to my previous life were huge.

Jakusui: This is a completely different world from yours, but I used to work in the tax accountant industry. Thirty years ago, there was an industry custom where seniors provided strict guidance, like “Do as your senior says, even if you don't understand.” But things have changed recently.

It's become an environment where you have to give young people a certain degree of freedom, let them work in a relaxed state, or nurture talent by praising them. Also, due to labor shortages and the establishment of laws against sexual harassment and power harassment, tax accounting firms have changed their methods of nurturing talent.

However, I only received training in the old, strict methods, so I don't know how to interact with juniors. That was another source of worry for me. Was the strict approach thirty years ago really correct? Was it necessary? I still don't know.

Priest Danjo: That's right. My master said that military-style training is necessary to bring everyone together. Especially after the Meiji era, the military-style training that remained was the so-called Zen Buddhist training system.

Before the Meiji era, there weren't many specialized training temples like that. I hear people would travel around, visiting places where enlightened, wonderful priests resided, practicing in a kind of pilgrimage. When I left the training temple, I even felt like, “I could stay here another ten years or so.”

However, after returning to the Hiroshima Zen temple later, I remembered that when I came back from America, I wanted to become a “specialist in clothing, food, and shelter.”

Jakusui: Wait a moment. I understand clearly that the ‘food’ aspect of the ‘clothing, food, and shelter’ you, Priest mentioned was influenced by agricultural economics and the teachings of Masanobu Fukuoka. But why the particular emphasis were on ‘clothing’ and ‘shelter’?　Shouldn't monks avoid desire regarding clothing and housing?

Priest Danjo: Generally, when people say ‘clothing,’ they mean what we wear. But what I'm talking about is making clothing. The weaving method is important, and after weaving, the dyeing process is also crucial.

It's true that among ‘clothing, food, and shelter,’ 'clothing' comes first. Normally, one might think ‘food’ is most important and should come first, but actually, ‘clothing’ is incredibly important. Think of it like feathers for birds. While the beauty of feathers varies by species, without them, the birds cannot fly. For humans, clothing must be proper. It protects the body and also helps maintain health.

“Shelter” doesn't mean modern buildings, but rather the old folk houses and machiya townhouses still found in Kyoto. It's not just the construction techniques, but also the wood materials, how the materials are used, and various other aspects.

For example, how is the wood used? How can we utilize wood without nails? Furthermore, what is the best time of year to cut the trees? When studying 300- or 400-year-old houses, you arrive at the realization: “Ah, so that's why! It's because of this wisdom that the houses have lasted 400 or 500 years.”

Jakusui: I see, that's how it is. When you told Zen Master Mori you wanted to become a “specialist in clothing, food, and shelter,” what did he say?

Priest Danjo: Thankfully, Zen Master Mori never once said anything like, “You, you should give that up.”

When I returned to the temple, I explained my desire to become a specialist in Japanese clothing, food, and housing. To achieve this, I wanted to establish a lecture series called the “Asian Spiritual Culture Center,” inviting specialists in good food to give talks. I wanted to learn there myself and create a temple where interested people could learn together. He responded, “Oh, I see. Well then, why not go ahead and do it?” And that's how it started.