The Origin of the Selfless Love Movement [無我愛運動の發端] (1919) by Itō Shōshin [伊藤證信]

“Muga-en” (無我苑, Garden of Selflessness)

In an, as-yet unpublished essay from 1979 called, “Reflections on, and prospects for, the Japanese Free Religious Movement” [which you can now read HERE], the important Japanese Yuniterian (sic), educator and advocate of jiyū shūkyō [自由宗教] — a dynamic, creative, inquiring, free and liberative religion/spirituality — Imaoka Shin’ichirō-sensei [今岡信一良] (1881-1988) mentions the name Ito Shōshin [伊藤証信] and, in passing, simply notes that Shōshin’s liberal religious community, Muga-en [無我苑, the “Garden of Selflessness”] was one of the first members of the Japan Free Religion Association (日本自由宗教連盟) that was set up in 1948 by Imaoka-sensei. 

Given that there’s very little about Ito Shōshin and “Muga-en” yet published in English (except these two pieces HERE and HERE), I’ve become very curious about him and his project. I’ve now been able to track down digital copes of some of Ito Shōshin’s books and have started to make some first draft translations of the essays they contain, and very interesting they are, well, interesting to me! Not only because of the connection with Imaoka-sensei’s ideas about free-religion, especially the possibility of a spirituality that allows a person to hold together without contradiction Buddhism, Shintoism and Christianity, but as you will also discover in the essay below, because of the connection that existed between Ito Shōshin and some key Japanese figures connected with various socialist, communist, and anarchist movements, i.e., with my own general political-theological sympathies that come out of my love of the kind of Sermon on the Mount Christian Anarchism promoted by Leo Tolstoy. It’s also important to point out that the early Yuniterian (sic) movement in Japan between 1887 and 1922/23, with which Imaoka-sensei was intimately involved, also had similar left-wing/progressive connections, particularly through the work of Suzuki Bunji [鈴木 文治] (1885–1946). 

Anyway, in the hope it might inspire others in the English-speaking world to begin to explore this very interesting Japanese figure and his ideas, here’s his piece from 1919 about the origin of his Selfless Love Movement  [無我愛運動の發端]. 

The photo at the top of this piece is taken from a website called “Mugaen: A Village for Experiencing Philosophy.” 

The Japanese source text for this can be found at this link. Corrections from native Japanese speakers welcomed, as always.

The Origin of the Selfless Love Movement  [無我愛運動の發端]

1. The Self-Awakening to Selfless Love [無我愛の自覺]


Sixteen years ago, when I was twenty-nine years old—that is, on the night of 27 August, Meiji 37 [1904]—the guiding principle and direction of my life [私の生活の主義方針] underwent a complete transformation. Until then, my life had been without principle [無主義] and without direction [無方針]. If I were forced to give it a name, I suppose one could call it a life of egoism [利己主義] and self-assertion [我慢主義]. However, even then, I was by no means at ease in such egoism and self-assertion. On the contrary, I was continually tormented by a kind of unease—as if that entire foundation might be overturned at any moment. When I was very young, that unease was not particularly strong; but as I grew older and was increasingly buffeted by the rough waves of the world, the unease only deepened. And when at last it reached its peak, my life of egoism and self-assertion collapsed at its very root. From that moment forward, I entered a way of life founded upon what is called the principle of Selfless Love [無我愛主義]. That moment, as I have already stated, came on the night of the twenty-seventh of August, Meiji 37 [1904]. It is not easy to explain briefly what the principle of Selfless Love is, but in the magazine Muga no Ai [『無我の愛』, “Selfless Love”], published the following year, the following words were printed under the title Conviction [『確信』]:

“We do not believe because it is the Buddha [佛陀]; we do not believe because it is Christ [耶蘇]; nor do we believe because it is Confucius [孔]. We believe in it solely because it is ultimate truth [絕對の眞理]. What, then, is this ‘ultimate truth’? It is hard to say. Let us borrow a temporary phrase and call it ‘Selfless Love’ [無我の愛]. The essential nature of the universe [宇宙の本性] is Selfless Love. Every individual entity that constitutes the universe, in its essence, is the activity of Selfless Love [無我愛の活動]. That is: when an individual entrusts its entire destiny to another’s love, and simultaneously devotes its entire strength to loving the other—that is what we call the activity of Selfless Love. For a long time, we failed to recognise the essential nature of the universe and of ourselves, and blindly tormented ourselves with attachment to self [我執] and hatred [憎惡]. But now, having been suddenly and thoroughly awakened [廓然大悟], we have at last arrived at a state of absolute peace [絕對的平安]. Reflecting upon this, we see that the paths of the various sages—Śākyamuni [釋迦], Christ [基督], Confucius [孔子], and so on—were in truth none other than this same path. This path is so vast, so enduring, that—like the universe itself—it lies beyond the reach of speech and the limits of thought. If from now on the words and actions we take may succeed in expressing even a fraction of this great truth [大眞理], then nothing more could fulfil our heart’s desire.”

From this, one may gain some idea of its content.

There is a profound difference—both in substance and in form—between my previous life, which was a life of egoism and self-assertion, and my later life, which is a life based on the principle of Selfless Love. To list every point of difference would be endless. If the one was a life of anxiety, the other was a life of peace; if the one was a life of passivity, the other was a life of activity; if the one was a life of contradiction, the other was a life of harmony; if the one was a life of emptiness, the other was a life of fullness; if the one was a life of slackness, the other was a life of tension. One could name any number of such oppositions in actual lived experience. But here, I must take the time to explain in some detail a single point—the point that was most essential to the emergence of what is now called the Selfless Love Movement [無我愛運動]. 

Before the inner revolution of the night of the twenty-seventh of August, Meiji 37 [1904], all I thought about, whether asleep or awake, was the development of the self, the expansion of the self. At that time, I was a student-monk [僧侶學生] of the Shinshū Ōtani-ha [眞宗大谷派], studying in the graduate course [研究科] at the Shinshū University [眞宗大學] in Sugamo [巢鴨], Tokyo. I attended the university library daily, working under the research topic “History of Chinese Buddhist Ethics” [支那佛教倫理史], and I needed to prepare a thesis in that field in order to graduate. However, with the level of academic ability I then possessed, there was no way I could write a thesis on the history of Chinese Buddhist ethics. To begin with, I didn’t even understand clearly who the Buddha [佛陀] was—let alone the nature of religion in general. Of course, I had read some books on the study of religion and quite a few texts on Buddhism, but I still could not grasp their true essence. Thus, though I was living as a human being, I had no idea what “life” actually meant. I could hold my own in debate with others, but I was never convinced by my own arguments. Since I didn’t truly understand religion, Buddhism, or even life itself—how could I possibly write a true thesis on something like the history of Chinese Buddhist ethics? And yet, without completing that thesis, I could not graduate. Graduation from the university was the first gate on the path of self-development [自己發展の道]. If I failed to pass through that gate, my path of self-development would be delayed by just that much. What should I do?

This question was a constant source of torment for me, day and night. If I were to say that it was simply the suffering of not being able to write a graduation thesis, that may sound like a trivial sort of suffering. But since its source lay in a deep doubt concerning the meaning of life, that suffering was, for me, a wound as serious as death. Trapped in that suffering, I lived in constant anxiety and mental anguish. I was utterly blind to the limitless love and kindness [無限の愛護と思寵] that I was continually receiving from nature and from all humankind. I could not feel the least gratitude or joy. Whether asleep or awake, I did nothing but grumble about my own misfortune, ill-luck, and lack of talent. I could not bring myself to engage in any work. I no longer even knew what I ought to be doing each day. Looking back on it later, I gave that way of life the name “egoism and self-assertion” [利己主義、我慢主義]. But after that inner revolution on the night of August 27, Meiji 37 [1904], my state of mind changed completely. I gave up trying to think about such unmanageable and oversized questions—no, rather, the urge to think about them ceased of its own accord. If I couldn’t write a thesis on Chinese Buddhist ethics, then so be it. If I couldn’t graduate from university, then so be it. If I couldn’t develop myself, then so be it. Whether one can or cannot do these things depends on the portion of strength one has been given—it is not something one can determine oneself. Whether one is given much or little, strength lies within the jurisdiction of nature [自然の權內]. I came to believe that all I had to do was exert, fully and rightly, whatever strength nature had granted me, and simply do what I could. That, I came to think, was both my right and my duty.

From that point onward, all the anxiety and anguish I had carried vanished completely, as if wiped away. I felt as though I had cast off a heavy burden. I repented deeply of the errors in my former way of thinking, and from my heart I came to rejoice in the good fortune of my life.

2. The Founding of the Garden of Selflessness [無我苑の創立] 



At any rate, I had survived to the present day. And now, I possessed both a sound body and an education equivalent to university level. I had no idea how many there were who lived in worse circumstances than I did, who were even more powerless than I was. I could no longer understand why I had borne such discontent, and why I had sunk into such anguish for so long. Even if I tried to return to the frame of mind I had back then, I found I could no longer do so. It was a mystery that I could not unravel. That was how I felt at the time—and indeed, that feeling remains unchanged even today.“What, then, can I do as I now am?” Asking myself this, the thought that immediately arose in my mind was: “to become a teacher at the night school [夜學] for youth in Sugamo village.” In truth, this thought had not come to me for the first time just then. I had already heard, long before, that there was such a need in that village. However, back then, I had listened to it as one hears rumours from a distant land. I had never imagined that I myself might become such a teacher. I believed that I was a person who ought to write a grand thesis on the history of Chinese Buddhist ethics [支那佛教倫理史], graduate from the university with distinction, and from there embark on the path of self-development [自己發展の道]. I thought that I must not divert even a single drop of my energy toward secondary matters. And yet, as I mentioned earlier, my intellectual ability was far too poor for me to write that thesis, and that was precisely why I had fallen into such deep suffering. But now, having come to recognise the full extent of my own powerlessness, and having completely cast aside the ambition for self-development, I found myself thinking: “I will become a night school teacher. That is what suits me best. Even someone as powerless as I am can manage that.” This idea flashed across my heart like a bolt of lightning.

So I spoke about the matter to Tazaki-shi [田崎氏], the village head of Sugamo village and landlord of my lodging house Kohaku-an [古白菴 lit. “Hermitage of Ancient Purity”]. He was also very supportive. Thanks to his efforts, within just two or three days, around twenty students for the night school were gathered. At once, a signboard reading Sugamo Vocational Night School Association [巢鴨實業夜學會] was hung on my lodging house, and classes began. If memory serves, this was around the middle of September, Meiji 37 [1904]. At the time, I was still enrolled in the graduate course of the Shinshū University, and I continued to go to the library every day to read. However, both the purpose of my reading and the books I chose were now entirely different. I now read only those books that seemed useful for advancing the life of Selfless Love. Thus, classes at the night school were held each evening from seven to nine. Subjects included arithmetic with the abacus [珠算], letter-writing [手紙], reading [讀本], and ethics [修身]. Tuition was based on a system in which each student contributed whatever amount they wished. Innocent young men and women came joyfully and eagerly each night. Their intellectual ability and moral character visibly improved day by day—it was as if I could see it with my own eyes. And at that point, I felt that I had finally come to know what it means to live a truly human life. When I thought back on the miserable life I had lived before—a life of egoism and self-assertion—I shuddered and felt the hairs on my body stand on end. At the same time, I could not help but rejoice all the more in the happiness I had found in a life based on the principle of Selfless Love.

Among the four subjects taught at the night school, the one I devoted the most effort to was ethics [修身]. The aim of that course was to explain, in a clear and accessible way, the necessity of abandoning a life of egoism and self-assertion and entering into a life guided by the principle of Selfless Love, drawing upon my own experience to do so. By teaching the students each night about the dangers of self-assertion, I also gained the opportunity to examine myself constantly, so that I might not fall back into self-assertion, and so that I might leave behind no trace of pride or selfish desire [我慢我欲].

As the year came to a close, and by around March of the following year [Meiji 38 / 1905], a new feeling gradually arose in my heart—though I could not say exactly when it began. I started to feel that Kohaku-an, the house where I was living, might be somewhat too extravagant for someone like me. That house had been designed by my friend Yamada Mushirō-kun [山田夢白君] and myself, who had chosen the location and asked Tazaki-shi, the village head, to build it for us. It was a single small house, with one six-mat room, one three-mat room, and one two-mat room. The name Kohaku-an [古白菴 lit. “Hermitage of Ancient Purity”] came from taking the “Ko” [古] from my pen name Furukawa [古川] and the “Haku” [白] from Mushirō-kun’s name. But by that time, I was living there alone and paying a monthly rent of three yen and fifty sen. Although that may seem extremely cheap now, at the time it certainly felt luxurious to me. I began to feel that living in such a house was itself a form of self-assertion. Meanwhile, in the same village there was an old, small public hall called Dainichidō [大日堂 lit. “Great Sun Hall”], located in the forest. A few times a year, some of the more devout villagers would gather there to chant the nenbutsu [念佛]. The hall was twelve mats in size, and on the raised platform stood a stone statue of Dainichi Nyorai [大日如來, the Cosmic Buddha]. Most of the time, the building stood empty. Sometimes beggars would sleep there, or thieves would use it as a hiding place—this, I had heard, caused trouble for the villagers. I suddenly recalled the existence of this hall. I thought: “Perhaps I could become its caretaker, in place of the beggars and thieves.” So I promptly made the request to Tazaki-shi. 

At first, he said it was no place for a human being to live, and he did not take my request seriously. But after I asked him repeatedly, with great sincerity, he finally consulted the villagers, and they agreed to allow it. The students at the night school then built a toilet for me, cleaned the building, and helped carry my belongings over. And before long, I was able to take up residence in Dainichidō as its guardian. That was at the beginning of April.

On the night I moved into Dainichidō, after finishing my classes and seeing the students off at the edge of the forest, I lay down alone in the centre of the hall. The peace I felt at that moment was truly beyond description. Later, in the magazine Muga no Ai, which was published from that very place, the following record of my resolution was included:

“Compared to Kohaku-an, Dainichidō is far more inconvenient for myself, and no doubt gives a poor impression to others. Indeed, it may be a place hardly fit for human habitation. But for me, who has already cast off the self [我] completely, the thought of maintaining appearances is not even a dream. The inconvenience affects only me personally—and that is no great matter. Since beggars and thieves have stayed here, there is no reason I cannot do the same. Poor things—thieves and beggars alike are the children of human beings, children of the Dharma-realm [法界], are they not? And if I reflect upon the blessings I have received from my parents and from others, I am no different from them in the end. Go forth, go forth—go, and follow in the steps of the beggars and thieves. For one such as I, utterly lacking in ability, this is the most fitting place of all.”

I gave the combined name Muga-en [無我苑, the “Garden of Selflessness”] to the forest and the hall together, and I began living there alone in simplicity, practising the Way day and night, and preparing my own meals. As for living expenses, three or four yen a month was more than enough.

3. The Beginning of the Proclamation of Selfless Love [無我愛宣傳の開始]

Even before this, while I was still living at Kohaku-an, I had, from time to time, spoken with others about the inner revolution I had experienced. But people were not easily able to understand it. At one point, I even thought it might be better to remain completely silent about it for the rest of my life. But then again, I also felt reluctant to do so—it seemed too much of a loss. And so I remained unsure of what I should do. Around that time, a memorial service in honour of the founder [宗祖の報恩講] was held at the Shinshū University [眞宗大學], and I was invited to speak briefly on that occasion. Taking the opportunity, I spoke openly for the first time about the inner transformation I had undergone. That talk became a turning point. From then on, four or five of my classmates began visiting me nearly every day to hear me speak further. 

And then, one day, one of those classmates—Andō Genkei-kun [安藤現慶君]—suddenly burst into my home, weeping for joy. Surprised by his appearance, I listened carefully to what he told me. As it turned out, he had just experienced an inner revolution very much like my own. In that moment, I realised something: this inner transformation I had undergone could, in fact, be communicated to others through spoken conversation. Later, more and more people appeared who underwent similar experiences. And from then on, I resolved that—even if I might provoke some misunderstanding or lack of comprehension—I would do everything I could to speak of my own experience, and to convey it to others as far as I was able. Once I had moved into Dainichidō, I no longer had to pay any rent. And, along with that, my living expenses were greatly reduced. This left me with a small financial surplus. I began to think about how I might use it to promote the principle of Selfless Love. What I eventually came up with was a weekly leaflet called Muga no Ai. This was to be a small printed sheet, in quarto size [四六版], with a simple message encouraging the adoption of the principle of Selfless Love, distributed every Sunday to about one thousand households in the villages surrounding Muga-en [無我苑].

Let me quote here the text printed in the very first leaflet:

“Do you have some deep worry weighing on your heart? If you do, even if you forget about it during the day, it will surely rise up in your thoughts again at night, when the world has gone quiet and others are asleep. Though this worry may appear small on the surface, its roots run deep. And if you do not deal with it properly, in the end even your very life may be taken away by it. Therefore, you must enter quickly into the realm of Selfless Love. In the country of Selfless Love [無我愛の國], there is no such thing as worry—there is only joy and strength, and everything you see and hear will become dear to you. Very well? And if there is anyone who wishes to hear more in detail about Selfless Love, please come to Dainichidō in Sugamo.”

The second, third, fifth, and sixth editions of the leaflet followed with slight variations in wording. As I continued to distribute these leaflets every Sunday, people gradually began to come visit Dainichidō. Before long, I began hosting daily spiritual discussion meetings [心靈座談會] at 1:00 in the afternoon for those who came, and these became an opportunity to share and promote the experience of inner revolution. At first, I distributed the leaflets entirely by myself. But after about a month, Andō Genkei-kun, whom I mentioned earlier, expressed his wish to join me in residence at Muga-en [無我苑]. From that point on, the two of us carried out the work together. Then, about a month later, another of my classmates, Wada Yūgen-kun [和田幽玄君], also came to live at Muga-en. We became three. Eventually, others from outside the garden joined us, and the number of companions grew. Hand in hand, many people joined in distributing the leaflets. At the same time, the daily spiritual discussion meetings steadily became more vibrant and full of life.

As all this unfolded, our shared zeal for spreading the principle of Selfless Love grew stronger and stronger. Before long, the Sunday leaflet no longer felt sufficient. We began to formulate plans to publish a proper magazine. When I first entered the graduate course at Shinshū University, I had received a stipend of ten or fifteen yen a month. But as the main temple of the Shinshū Ōtani-ha fell into financial difficulty, the scholarship system was abolished around September of Meiji 37 [1904], and tuition became self-funded. My family back home was extremely poor, and could never afford to pay ten or fifteen yen a month. But owing to a certain event, I had come into possession of about two hundred yen. I used this money to cover my tuition. And since life at Dainichidō required only three or four yen per month, I still had more than a hundred yen remaining. With this surplus, I allocated the funds for printing expenses. For the deposit required to launch the publication—two hundred and fifty yen—I borrowed the sum from elsewhere. And so, at last, on the tenth of June, we began publishing the magazine Muga no Ai twice per month, priced at two sen per copy. In the statement of purpose printed in the magazine, we wrote:

“Our aim is to dismantle [破壞し] the world of self [我の世界] and to build the world of Selfless Love [無我の愛の世界]. We seek to overturn the modern world of thought [我々は近代思想界を顚覆せんとする者である], which is founded upon the principles of self-power [自力主義] and self-interest [我利主義], and to realise upon the inner life of the individual [個人の内面的生活] the great ideal of other-power [他力主義] and altruism [利他主義].”

Of course, it was merely a group of unknown students who had gathered together to begin this work, and no doubt there were many amateurish and awkward aspects. Yet, for reasons I still do not fully understand, the magazine attracted a surprising amount of attention from the public.

At first, we printed one thousand copies per issue, but this quickly increased to two thousand, then three thousand, and within nine months, we were printing four thousand five hundred copies. At that time, the articles were written only by myself, Andō Genkei-kun, and Wada Yūgen-kun. But over time, we gathered several dozen contributors. We received an outpouring of sympathy and agreement from up-and-coming thinkers throughout the country. And at last, our magazine came to be recognised both in name and in substance as a public organ of the spiritual world.

4. Withdrawal of Sectarian Affiliation and the Response from Society [脱宗と世の反響]

At that time, all three of us—Andō Genkei-kun, Wada Yūgen-kun, and I—were students at the Shinshū University. However, since we were publishing, in Muga no Ai, repeated statements declaring the need to break with the established religions [既成宗教打破], the school authorities began to view us as a threat. We were summoned repeatedly and warned. Yet, since our words sprang from a burning inner conviction—indeed, from a faith that overflowed like flame—it was impossible to suppress them by artificial means. Eventually, our movement became a serious issue not only within the university, but also at the headquarters of the Shinshū Ōtani-ha.

At that time, the head of Shinshū University was Nanjō Fumio-hakase [南條文雄博士], who one day summoned the entire student body to the lecture hall and issued a formal instruction: “Henceforth, students are not to go near Muga-en [無我苑], nor are they to read the magazine Muga no Ai.” But the students continued to read it enthusiastically, but now in secret. Some were even said to take copies into the toilet in order to read them without being discovered. Given such circumstances, it became clear that we could no longer continue our work in the present situation. And so, the three of us resolved to withdraw together from the university, and to resign our clerical status [僧籍] as well. However, the other two had not yet completed their undergraduate degrees, and they each had temples and families—circumstances that made it difficult for them to act so lightly. In the end, they decided to refrain, and I alone took full responsibility and carried the matter out. We named the tenth issue of Muga no Ai the “Withdrawal from the Sect Issue” [脱宗號], and printed it entirely in red ink. In it, I laid out in detail the reasons why I had no choice but to leave the university and resign my clerical status, and I published that statement to the world. At the same time, I enclosed a notification of relinquishing my clerical status [僧籍返上屆], my dokuchō (the certificate of ordination as a monk) [度牒], and a copy of the magazine, and sent them by post to the headquarters of the Shinshū Ōtani-ha. I also informed my parents in Ise [伊勢], my hometown, of what I had done. Thus, I had fully achieved the long-cherished desire to withdraw from the religious sect [脱宗の本懐]. This took place on the tenth of October, Meiji 38 [1905], when I was exactly thirty years old.

Already by that time, our movement had attracted significant public attention. But from that moment on, it took on the force of the rising sun at dawn [旭日冲天]. Among the numerous sympathetic responses we received from readers around the country—so many they came like arrows—here are a few representative voices:

Tokutomi Roka-shi [德富蘆花氏] wrote:

“Your banner has become all the more vivid. The work of Muga no Ai will surely take a further step forward. Though the pain of severing old ties must not have been small, that was the inevitable result. For the sake of Selfless Love, we must rejoice. I respectfully offer you my wholehearted congratulations.”

Kōtoku Shūsui-shi [幸德秋水氏] wrote:

“The clarity of your heart is like the moon shining through clear skies, vast as the heavens and the sea. I can only envy it. Especially in the matter of your departure from the sect, I sense a brilliance of exceptional radiance. As for myself, dull and base-minded, I have not yet attained that state of absolute freedom and absolute peace. I remain ever clouded by attachment to self [我執], lost in turmoil. I am deeply ashamed. But if the right conditions come together, perhaps one day I may follow in your footsteps and even renounce my Japanese citizenship. I say this with a quiet smile.”

Tsunashima Ryōsen-shi [綱島梁川氏] wrote:

“I have read the ‘Withdrawal from the Sect Issue’ of Muga no Ai with deep sympathy and admiration. ‘To stand upon the self-realisation of being a child of God, and to rejoice with God and work with God’—that is the highest spiritual awakening I have attained. And surely this is one and the same in essence with the principle of Selfless Love, which you describe as ‘entrusting one’s fate entirely to another’s love, and simultaneously devoting all one’s strength to loving the other.’ Reflecting on this, I was filled this morning with great joy.”

Sakai Toshihiko-shi [堺利彥氏] wrote:

“Leaving the sect—splendid! This is where it becomes real. We socialists have not attained any such thing as ‘absolute peace,’ but we might well be fellow travellers on the revolutionary path.”

Among all these responses, the most striking by far was the case of Kawakami Hajime-shi [河上肇氏]. At the time, he was serialising a column in the Yomiuri Newspaper [『讀賣新聞』] under the pen name Senzan Bansui Rōshujin [千山萬水樓主人], titled Critique of Socialism [『社會主義評論』]. When he saw the “Withdrawal from the Sect Issue” of Muga no Ai for the first time, he was deeply moved. He felt as though he had suddenly discovered the great truth [大眞理]. He immediately stopped writing his Socialist Critique, and sent the following letter to Muga-en:

“To begin with, allow me to describe my situation. A few years ago, I graduated from the Faculty of Law and now remain enrolled in the graduate school. At the same time, I lecture in economics at four or five different schools. For years now, I have wanted to contribute in some way to the advancement of human life. I hoped to do this by using my area of expertise to design a social system in which ‘doing good is easy, and doing evil is hard.’ But now, through your teaching, I have come to see that such ideas of social design are trivial. It now seems to me that peace and happiness in life can be realised not by any roundabout method, but directly and immediately through the practice of Selfless Love alone. In that light, the research I am doing in economics feels meaningless. Rather than that, it seems far better that I devote my entire strength to spreading the principle of Selfless Love. The work I now do seems trivial. Even the ambition to obtain a doctorate seems laughable. And so I find myself restless and without peace. What should I do?”

And so, on the fourth of December, Kawakami Hajime-shi came himself to Muga-en, where he spoke with us in person—and in the end, he became one of our companions.

5. The Height of Muga-en and Its Closure [無我苑の全盛と其閉鎖] 



Thus, by this point, the activities of Muga-en had become a great sensation in the world of thought. People came from all parts of the country, either to cultivate themselves or to participate in the work of proclamation. They came in an unceasing stream. From the west, they arrived from Okinawa, Kyūshū, and Yamaguchi Prefecture; from the east, they came even from the Tōhoku region and Hokkaidō. Among them were many who wished to join Muga-en as full members. But with just Dainichidō, we could not accommodate everyone. So we rented several additional houses nearby within Sugamo village, and designated them as branch enclosures of Muga-en—calling them the First Branch, the Second Branch, and so on. If memory serves, Kawakami Hajime-shi lived in what we called the Third Branch. Mr and Mrs Kanemizu [金永先生・金永夫人], who resided in the Second Branch, had formerly been in the seafood trade in Hokkaidō and had some wealth. They joined Muga-en early on, and in Sugamo they opened a small farm, preparing to lay down an economic foundation for the future of the movement. As our numbers increased and the branches multiplied, we began to imagine that a large Muga Village [無我村] might one day take shape. The rice shop, the miso shop, the draper, even the barber and the bathhouse—each would be run by companions in the movement. We even began to dream of building a great paradise of Selfless Love [無我愛] on this earth. However, as Muga-en gradually flourished and the number of residents increased, it became increasingly difficult to maintain unity and harmony. I—the central figure of the movement—began, on occasion, to be the object of dissatisfaction among the other members.

We had all supposedly realised the principle of Selfless Love, and attained a state of absolute peace [絕對平安]. I believed that the others, too, had reached that same state. And yet, they came to harbour complaints and dissatisfactions about one another. What could this mean? I could not help but feel that this was proof—above all—of our own incompleteness, and especially of my own. Still, I could not bring myself to believe that the truth of Selfless Love itself was mistaken. After all, this was not something newly discovered by us. It was the same as the path of Śākyamuni [釋迦], of Christ [基督], and of Confucius [孔子].

More than that, many people—including myself—had, by walking this path, resolved the fundamental problems of life. There was no way I could believe it to be mistaken. Then why had I become the object of discontent within Muga-en? I came to think that this was because I had not yet fully embodied Selfless Love. If that were the case, then instead of pouring all my efforts into the work of saving others, I must first go further in cultivating myself in this path.

Thus, I called a general meeting of all the companions of Muga-en, and invited also those members who lived outside the garden. There, I spoke candidly about my recent reflections and feelings. I announced that Muga-en would be closed. Among the companions, there were some who initially disagreed with this decision. But in the end, we carried out the closure, just as I had declared. The night school [夜學], the Sunday leaflet [日曜通信], the magazine [雜誌]—all were brought to an end. This took place in February of Meiji 39 [1906]. It had been only nine months since we had begun publishing the magazine. In the eighteenth issue of Muga no Ai, dated 25 February—the final issue—it was written:

“The Way is not something to be stopped, but something to be advanced. We have now awakened to the great path of Selfless Love [無我愛の大道]. We must, by all means, put it into practice. And yet we, new-born children in the Way [道に於ける嬰兒], in our immaturity dared to shout the call of proclamation, raised our voices, took up our pens, and ran wildly to preach it to the world. Looking back now, we cannot help but feel deep shame and trembling in the face of the Way’s great dignity. Therefore, we hereby, with reverence before the Great Way, apologise for our former rashness, and gladly and earnestly wish for our further advancement henceforth.”

6. The Revival of the Selfless Love Movement [無我愛運動の復活]

After this, the companions of Muga-en returned to their former lives—those who had been students returned to student life, those who had been teachers to teaching, those in business to business, and those who had been monks to monastic life. But I, having withdrawn from the university, resigned my clerical status, brought the night school to an end, and returned Dainichidō to Sugamo village—thus I had nowhere to return to. For a time, I was completely at a loss.

From then on, I lived various lives—working as a gardener at the Nishigahara Farm [西ヶ原農園] in Tokyo Prefecture, as a teacher at Tokuyama Girls’ School [德山女學校] in Suō Province, as a publisher of the magazine Our Life [『我生活』], as an accountant at the Tokyo People’s Medical Clinic [東京實費診療所], as a journalist for the Chūgai Nippō [『中外日報』] in Kyōto, and more. In the end, I spent fifteen years this way, and arrived at the present moment.

In sum, what I have done is nothing more than carry on the spirit I held at the time of Muga-en’s closure, and devote myself primarily to the cultivation of the self in this path. But now, I have resigned from my post at the Chūgai Nippō, returned to Tokyo, and—based on a resolution of the Shinkō Sakushin-kai [信仰策進會 “Faith Advancement Society”]—I have begun publishing a new periodical and engaging full-time in spiritual work. In one sense, this may be called the revival of Muga-en.

When I reflect deeply, I find the turn of events in the world to be truly astonishing. Fifteen years ago, the Russo-Japanese War had just come to an end. Around that time, the socialist movement led by the Heiminsha [平民社] shook the entire country. And following that, new religious movements arose one after another across Japan. Muga-en too, responding to that same current of the times, was born as one of those new religious movements. Now again, the Great War—unprecedented in human history—is drawing to a close. At this very moment, the world is being shaken by socialist movements, centred in the revolutions of Russia and Germany. And once again, new religious movements are beginning to arise around the world in various forms. Look at Japan: movements such as the Second Coming of Christ Movement [基督再來運動], Ōmoto-kyō [大本教], Ittōen [一燈園], and The New Village [新しき村] have already begun to emerge. More than that, even the socialist movement itself has, in recent times, begun to take on an increasingly religious character. In such a time, it is no accident—though it may appear accidental—that we have once more been prompted, by inner and outer necessity, to rise up and take action in a new spiritual movement.

We once brought Muga-en to a close because we judged our cultivation insufficient, and ceased all work of proclamation. That we now dare to begin proclaiming again does not mean that our cultivation is complete. Far from it. Our lack of virtue and wisdom remains unchanged. But the time has come when we can no longer afford to wait until we are fully prepared. Even as we are, conscious of our own inadequacy, we can no longer do nothing. Fifteen years ago, we ceased our activities on the grounds that we were not yet sufficiently cultivated. But now, fifteen years later, though we remain painfully aware of our own shortcomings, we have found ourselves unable not to act. If one wished to point to the fruit of fifteen years of cultivation, this difference would perhaps be it. Fifteen years ago, we hoped to undertake a perfect movement—and, for that very reason, we stopped what we were doing. But today, we know that a perfect movement is impossible. Even so, when we look out at the state of the world, we find it even more impossible to remain silent and do nothing. Thus, bearing within us our lack of virtue, our lack of wisdom, our lack of strength, and our lack of means, we now take it upon ourselves to begin once again—this time, a movement in keeping with our measure and our present capacity: the renewed movement of Selfless Love [無我愛運動].

Itō Shōshin [伊藤證信]
(Taishō 8 [1919], December 4)