Ittōen: Friends of The Light Handbook

The main entrance to Ittōen, taken by Miki Nakura

Regular readers of this blog will know of my long-standing interest in the Ittōen (Garden of the One Light) community founded by Tenkō-san. Indeed, with the help of my Dharma friend and Seiza teacher, Miki Sakura, I have translated the community’s central prayer, the Prayer of Radiant Light (Kōmyō Kigan), their daily prayerbook, Diligent Daily Practice of Ittōen, and also a short book called Selflessness which contains fifty sayings by Tenkō-san. All of these texts contain important ideas/terms that are almost unique to the Ittōen community and so, by definition, a great many of the ideas/terms used in the preceding texts are unfamiliar both to Japanese and western readers. Because of this, in 2000, Murata Masaki produced a Friends of Light Handbook. I was very kindly given copies of the chapters of this handbook by Yayoi Kimura from Ittōen, and during the month of August I have taken the time to produce a draft translation of this. Naturally, should anyone spot any errors in this please let me know via the contact form of this blog, but I think it should already be accurate enough to help readers unfamiliar with Ittōen and Tenkō-san better to understand the texts I have already translated. 

—o0o—

Ōun [王雲, Ōun]: Friends of The Light Handbook [光友手帖, Kōyū Techō] (1) 
From Friends of The Light [光友, Kōyū], No. 696, June, Heisei 12 (2000) 
by Murata Masaki [村田正喜]

Words of Tenkō-san [天香さん]

‘If there are those who come to believe after witnessing the facts of my life as it is lived, then they are walking the very same path as I am. I lack the qualifications to be a teacher, and thus I take no disciples; but if you walk as I walk, your eyes fixed upon the perfect Guide, then you are Fellows [同人, dōnin], you are Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū], and you are my brothers and sisters.’

Foreword

More than thirty years have passed since Tenkō-san’s [天香さん] returning to The Light [帰光, kikō], and the Fellows [同人, dōnin] who once walked alongside him have also, for the most part, returned to The Light; consequently, the number of Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū] who had the privilege of direct contact with him has become exceedingly small.

Yet, amidst these circumstances, a movement has emerged over the past two or three years to breathe new life into the activities of the Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai]. Driven by the enthusiasm of Mr Marubashi Hiroyuki [丸橋博行氏], the Steward [当番, tōban] of the National Friends of The Light Association [全国光友会, Zenkoku Kōyūkai], a new constitution for the Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai] has been established, and a newsletter, the Friends of The Light Association Newsletter [光友会だより, Kōyūkai Dayori], has begun publication.

Our fundamental stance has always been that Ittōen [一燈園] is not something to be advertised [宣伝, senden]—though it is perfectly acceptable if it spreads, as if by contagion [伝染, densen]. At the same time, however, it is only natural that an earnest desire exists among the Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū] to share the path and the way of life that Tenkō-san [天香さん] showed us—to let as many people as possible know of it, to pass it on, and to preserve it.

In this regard, one must consider that Ittōen [一燈園] employs a unique vocabulary, distinct usages of language, and specific forms of practice [行, gyō]—the Sixty Thousand Practices and Vows [六万行願, Rokuman Gyōgan] being one such example—which people often find surprisingly difficult to understand. While it is inevitable that much remains beyond easy comprehension due to the profound depth of the teachings, if we can help people understand even a little through careful explanation, then surely such an effort is necessary.

It is with these thoughts in mind that we have created this Friends of The Light Handbook [光友手帖, Kōyū Techō]. It is our hope that by explaining our distinctive expressions and terminology, along with various other matters, we may serve as a guide to help newer Friends of TheLight [光友, kōyū] deepen their understanding, even if only slightly.

〇 On the ‘Friends of The Light’ [光友, Kōyū]

At Ittōen [一燈園], anyone who has formed even the slightest spiritual connection [ご縁, go-en] with us is regarded as a Friend of The Light [光友, kōyū]—a friend who helps form the circle of light. In this sense, all who have participated in the Wisdom and Virtue Retreat [智徳研修会, Chitoku Kenshūkai] of Ittōen [一燈園] are Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū].

Since the inception of the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu], there has been no formal organisation for either the Fellows [同人, dōnin] or the Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū]. There is no organised registry, nor is there a membership system. As Tenkō-san [天香さん] travelled from place to place, connections formed naturally; some openly called themselves Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū], while quite a few others acted as ‘hidden Friends of The Light’ [隠れ光友, kakure kōyū], believing it was enough simply to put the teachings into practice within their own daily lives.

However, as we embark on revitalising the activities of the Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai], it has become clear that such informality is no longer practical. We need a registry simply to facilitate communication. To achieve this, we decided to draft a new constitution and build an organisation sustained by regular membership dues (although, in fact, a Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai] constitution was already established in Taishō 13 (1924) at the founding of the Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai], which was triggered by the Great Kantō Earthquake [関東大震災, Kantō Dai-shinsai]).

From this perspective, ‘Friend of The Light’ [光友, kōyū] today may specifically refer to those who register their names and pay dues as official members of the Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai].

In terms of substance, however, Tenkō-san [天香さん] stated: ‘Those who rejoice [随喜, zuiki] in The Light as it manifests at the centre of the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu]—these we call Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū].’

He also said, ‘The Friends of The Light Association [光友会, Kōyūkai] consists of those who wish to join hands in a manner fitting to the times, offering devoted service [御奉公, o-hōkō] worthy of those who live in The Light, and who turn to The Light itself to discover how to do so.’

〇 On ‘Stewards’ [当番, Tōban]

At Ittōen [一燈園], the person in charge of the community at Kōsenrin [光泉林] is called the Steward [当番, tōban]. The same title is used for the person in charge of each department or alms-round district [托鉢先, takuhatsu-saki]. Thus, in the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu], anyone holding a position of responsibility for a particular area of work is customarily called the Steward [当番, tōban].

In general society, this would correspond to a chairperson, director, or head of some kind. Yet the title can also apply to someone who is not formally a head, but who serves as a caretaker or coordinator. In this sense, the Steward [当番, tōban] is simultaneously a responsible leader and a humble servant. Conversely, one might say that a leader incapable of serving humbly cannot truly be called a responsible leader. Perhaps this is why, in the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu], the title Steward [当番, tōban] feels far more fitting than ‘head’ or ‘director’.

Furthermore, at Ittōen [一燈園], the term is sometimes used for someone who temporarily takes charge of directing and coordinating a specific task or piece of work. At all times, the Steward [当番, tōban] is the person who holds responsibility for the work and can be held accountable. In a household, the head of the family is the Steward [当番, tōban]; and one might say that every single human being is—or ought to be—the Steward [当番, tōban] of their own life.

〇 What Is The Light? [光, Hikari]

On the inside front cover of the monthly magazine Hikari [光誌, Hikari-shi], these words appear: ‘The Light, O-hikari [おひかり], is God and Buddha, who save not only the spirit but our everyday reality as well.’

Ordinarily, when we speak of gods and Buddhas, we refer to an absolute being who removes the anxieties of the heart and offers spiritual salvation, or perhaps a transcendent refuge that possesses such saving power for the soul.

Human beings face manifold anxieties. Birth, ageing, illness, and death are known as the Four Sufferings [四苦, shiku], and as the phrase ‘Four Sufferings and Eight Hardships’ [四苦八苦, shikuhakku] suggests, no one can escape illness, disaster, the process of growing old, or the fear of death. Therefore, when we say the Light saves ‘our everyday reality as well’, I believe it means something that goes beyond mere peace of mind or spiritual comfort. It must mean that our daily material existence—our food, clothing, and shelter—is also sustained and redeemed.

To be alive is to sacrifice the lives of countless animals and plants, and to depend upon the labour and sweat of many other people. The reality is that we cannot help but pollute our surroundings, damage the environment, and create hindrances wherever we go. If we face this honestly, even a little, we must acknowledge that we are constantly accumulating transgressions and sowing the seeds of conflict. Human desire knows no bounds; how, then, can we find true peace of heart?

We cannot live without eating. The Light is that which saves us at the very root of this sin-making existence, reminding us that we are kept alive and that we are forgiven. And this forgiveness becomes truly ours only in a life of repentance at the roadsides [路頭, rotō], in a life of taking the lowest seat [下坐, geza], and in a life of alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu] filled with gratitude and service.

Tenkō-san [天香さん] once wrote, ‘A presence of unimaginable solemnity pervades the heavens, the earth, and the entire universe. Its working reaches the finest tip of a leaf, every corner of the human heart, and the state of the world itself.’ I believe we may well call this ‘solemn presence’ The Light [光, hikari].

〇 ‘Fellows’ [同人, Dōnin] and ‘Persons of the Way’ [道人, Dōjin]

These two words sound confusingly alike in pronunciation, but I believe it is best to distinguish them clearly: Fellow [同人, dōnin] and Person of the Way [道人, dōjin].

The word Fellow [同人, dōnin] is used in haiku and poetry circles to refer to members of a literary coterie [結社, kessha], and the Ittōen [一燈園] use of the term certainly shares something of that colloquial quality. However, in the context of Ittōen [一燈園], it carries a much more rigorous and distinct meaning.

In the past, when people came to Tenkō-san [天香さん] wishing to enter Ittōen [一燈園], he would pose a direct question to them: ‘Can you die?’ To ‘die’ means to discard one’s entire past and sever every trace of selfish desire.

Ridding oneself of selfish desire is something one might resolve to do in a single moment, but sustaining that resolve continuously is exceedingly difficult. It means offering up one’s body, name, and possessions entirely to The Light, entering fully into a life where one owns absolutely nothing as ‘one’s own’. It means having no personal daily economy, but purely entrusting all work (alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu]) and action to the directives of the Steward [当番, tōban]—which is to say, to The Light. In matters of livelihood, conduct, and every outcome, one surrenders all to The Light, leaving everything in its hands. Those who live within this state, however imperfectly, are called Fellows [同人, dōnin].

As for Person of the Way [道人, dōjin], this term appears in the text One Fact [一事実, Ichi Jijitsu]. It refers to those who, ‘though human, live as though illumined and made alive by the Radiant Light [光明, kōmyō]’. One might call such a person the very incarnation of The Light. The ‘perfect Guide’ mentioned in Tenkō-san’s [天香さん] opening words in this Friends of The Light Handbook [光友手帖, Kōyū Techō] is surely such a Person of the Way [道人, dōjin]. Tenkō-san [天香さん], who bore the name Master of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞主人, Tenkakōdō Shujin], never denied the ordinary, secular nature of his humanity, yet it can be said that he was a person constantly guided by the divine nature of a Person of the Way [道人, dōjin].

〇 Alms-Round [托鉢, Takuhatsu]

The word alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu] is originally a Buddhist term. Even in the streets of Kyoto, one occasionally sees monks in black robes, wearing woven sedge hats [網代笠, ajirogasa] and straw sandals [草鞋, waraji], carrying iron bowls [鉄鉢, tehatsu] as they visit houses one by one to receive alms [喜捨, kisha] or offerings [供養, kuyō] of rice or money. This is what is ordinarily called alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu].

However, at Ittōen [一燈園], I believe Tenkō-san [天香さん] imparted a much broader meaning to the concept of alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu]. He taught that the fundamental way of human life must be a ‘life of alms-round’ [托鉢, takuhatsu]. This means that whatever our work may be, we should undertake it joyfully, with a spirit of service, as an expression of gratitude for being kept alive.

Yet this seems not to be something unique to Ittōen [一燈園] alone. At Ittōen [一燈園], before every meal, we recite an imperial poem [御製, gyosei] composed by Emperor Meiji [明治天皇, Meiji Tennō]:

‘Not looking back upon oneself, but giving oneself wholly for others’ sake— this is the true duty of humankind.’

The first reference to ‘others’ in this poem means other people, while the second reference to ‘humankind’ speaks of what it means to be human. The Emperor is telling us that to give oneself selflessly, erasing the ego, in service to others and to the world is the true duty of human beings. In other words, to work for the good of the world and for the sake of others represents the universal, fundamental way of human existence. And that, I believe, is precisely what we mean by a ‘life of alms-round’ [托鉢, takuhatsu].

Everything we learn and study exists so that we may be of service to the world and to others. Therefore, even a child’s studies must become a form of alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu]. If we live with gratitude for being kept alive, then falling ill is alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu], growing old is alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu], and living each and every day is itself alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu].

〇 Practice and Vows [行願, Gyōgan] (The Sixty Thousand Practices and Vows [六万行願, Rokuman Gyōgan])

Every religion has its own forms of ascetic practice, but I believe that a form of practice in which one goes from house to house to clean the lavatories of others is something that has never existed anywhere in the world, however wide.

The cleaning of lavatories was, I believe, something Tenkō-san [天香さん] had practised from the very beginning of his new life (the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu]) as a discipline of the lowest seat [下坐行, geza gyō]. Generally, however, it is said to have been formally vowed in the period after the First World War, in Taishō 8 (1919).

It began at the same time as the founding of the League of Nations. The devastation of the Great War compelled humanity to establish its first international body; but Tenkō-san [天香さん], together with his prayers for the repose of the dead and his repentance over the ravages of war, also felt that since war is born from within the human heart, what truly mattered was to eradicate the seeds of conflict within the heart—the greed and the desire for gain. The most thoroughgoing method he devised for this was the Sixty Thousand Practices and Vows [六万行願, Rokuman Gyōgan]. It was a vow made by one person alone.

Setting aside two hours each day for practice and vows [行願, gyōgan], visiting five households a day, and assuming two hundred days a year, one could reach approximately one thousand homes. Over ten years, then, one could pray for ten thousand households. In other words, ‘practice and vows’ [行願, gyōgan] was begun by Tenkō-san [天香さん] alone, with the aim of praying for ten thousand homes over a period of ten years. —Were he to find ten like-minded companions, ten thousand homes could be reached in a single year.—

And because this ‘practice and vows’ [行願, gyōgan] embodies six kinds of aspiration (which are at once prayers and merits)—repentance, the lowest seat, service, worship, solace, and alms-begging—it came to be called the Sixty Thousand Practices and Vows [六万行願, Rokuman Gyōgan].

‘The Sixty Thousand Practices and Vows [六万行願, Rokuman Gyōgan] mean going to as many homes as possible in as short a time as possible, and doing the very best thing one can for each. It is a prayer to forge as many bonds of The Light [光の縁, hikari no en] with as many households as possible.’

—Tenkō [天香]—

〇 The Roadside [路頭, Rotō]

‘Roadside’ [路頭, rotō] means the edge of the road. To ‘wander at the roadside’ [路頭に迷う, rotō ni mayou] is to lose the means of livelihood, to have no place to live, and to wander with nothing on the bare roadside.

At Ittōen [一燈園], however, we speak of ‘returning to the roadside’ [路頭に帰る, rotō ni kaeru]. To ‘return’ means to go back to one’s original place, one’s original form. In other words, the roadside is the true home of the human being, and to live at the roadside is the true way of human life. What symbolises this is the ‘Roadside Statue’ [路頭像, Rotō-zō] of Tenkō-san [天香さん] and his wife, sculpted by Kitamura Seibō [北村西望], which stands in the Funi’en (The Garden of Non-Duality) [不二苑, Funi’en] at Kōsenrin [光泉林,]. One might well call it the Statue of Returning to the Roadside.

At the roadside, one possesses nothing—one is utterly without possessions [無一物, muichibutsu], naked, as it were. From the beginning, there is nothing in this world that one can truly call ‘one’s own’; there is nothing to which one can lay claim by right. All belongs to the whole, and this very self of mine is but one existence among all, kept alive within the whole.

When one understands that this life was bestowed upon us naked, and that from the beginning there is nothing that is ‘one’s own’, then everything that is here and now must become sheer gratitude. Tenkō-san [天香さん] often wrote in calligraphy the phrase ‘In having nothing, there is an inexhaustible treasury’ [無一物中無尽蔵, muichibutsu chū mujinzō]. If one dissolves even the distinction between what is mine and what is another’s, then all things become one with oneself. It is only in nakedness that the realm of the unity of self and other, the oneness of heaven and earth, first comes into being.

All the conflicts of this world arise from this human craving for possession, from the collision of selfish egos each asserting its own rights. Unless we can order and discipline the manifold desires for possession that spring from such self-centred egoism, we can scarcely hope for the peace of the world.

The ‘roadside’ [路頭, rotō] practice at the retreat is, in truth, very brief in duration. Yet it is, I believe, a discipline in which one steps away from the craving for possession, and experiences—however briefly—the assurance that one can be perfectly at ease even with nothing at all; a discipline in which one may glimpse, even faintly, the richness of heart that is tasted for the first time within that very emptiness.

〇 On Ōun [王雲, Ōun]

The Ōun [王雲, Ōun], performed as a rite of worship during the morning service [朝課, chōka], is intoned slowly and in a great voice—‘Ō-Ūn’—while one rises to one’s feet and traces a large circle with both arms. On other occasions, it is almost always performed as a simple vocal intonation of ‘Ō-Ūn’, repeated three times.

The movement of the arms is expansive—stretching upward as far as one can to trace a great circle, and ending with both arms extended straight out to the sides. This gesture symbolises the trinity of the threefold unity of the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu]: the Void [無, mu] of Ittōen [一燈園], the Existence [有, yū] of the Society for Spreading Light [宣光社, Senkōsha], and the Non-Duality [不二, funi] of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞, Tenkakōdō]. It may well be called a form of practice unique to Ittōen [一燈園]. Even when performed as a vocal intonation alone, I believe the same meaning is inherently present; but at its most essential, it is surely an act of drawing forth the breath from the very depths of the abdomen, thereby calling upon the vital energies of heaven and earth, offering prayer, and aspiring to become one with the whole universe.

[Diagram: Ōun [王雲, Ōun]] (1) From an upright standing posture, with arms hanging at the sides, cross them in front of the body and rotate them inward and forward. (2) (Ō) Extend the arms upward and trace a large circle outward. (Drawing the breath up and holding it.) (3) (Side view) (Ūn) Bring the arms back down to shoulder height, crossing them lightly once more. (While exhaling deeply.) (4) (N) —Palms facing downward. Without pausing, thrust the arms out strongly to the sides. Palms facing downward. (Exhaling fully at this point.) Return to the original posture.

〇 On the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai]

Following the Ōun [王雲, Ōun] as a rite of worship during the morning service [朝課, chōka] is the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai], which likewise involves physical movement.

The ‘Returning-to-One’ [一帰, ikki] means returning to the source, and in this it overlaps with the Ōun [王雲, Ōun]. The ‘Four Bows’ [四礼, shirai] may be described as an act of worship and gratitude directed towards heaven, earth, and the four quarters, while intoning—loudly and with deep breathing—the syllables Ā, Mē, Tsū, Chī, Nō. One worships equally all that exists in heaven, earth, and the eight directions, with a heart that becomes one with all things. In its ritual form, this is abbreviated to bows towards the four directions—front, back, left, and right—further reduced to two prostrations each towards front and back, all performed while intoning the syllables aloud.

And at the end, once again, ‘Ō-Ūn’—returning to a world that is one with heaven, earth, the universe, and all things. The syllables Ā, Mē, Tsū, Chī, Nō may be said to signify heaven and earth [天地, ametsuchi]; or they may be understood as carrying upon the voice the five root vowels [母音, boin]—the primordial sounds.

The Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai], performed each morning in this way with physical movement, may be described as both a prayer and a vow: a prayer to set the body in order, to set the breath in order, and thus to begin the day; and a vow to live accordingly.

The form and method of this Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] constitute a unique form of prayer, and indeed a discipline, which Tenkō-san [天香さん] is said to have received through divine inspiration in the grounds of the Kyoto Imperial Palace [京都御所, Kyōto Gosho], as he offered repentance and prayer to heaven and earth at the time of the Great Kantō Earthquake [関東大震災, Kantō Dai-shinsai].

These vocalisations—Ā, Mē, Tsū, Chī, Nō, and Ō-Ūn—are also intoned together at the opening ceremonies of the ‘Spring Gathering’ [春のつどい, Haru no Tsudoi] and the ‘Autumn Gathering’ [秋のつどい, Aki no Tsudoi]. Moreover, Tenkō-san [天香さん] himself urged and asked Fellows [同人, dōnin] and Friends of The Light [光友, kōyū] throughout the country to practise this discipline. It is for this reason that I should like to set it out here, with diagrams, in concrete detail.

[Diagram: Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai]] (1) From an upright standing posture: (Ā) Inhale, raise both arms straight overhead, stretch the body fully upward, and hold the breath. (2) —Palms facing upward. (Mē) Exhale gradually while lowering both arms out to the sides and extending them fully. (Palms still facing upward.) (3) (Side view) (Tsū) Continuing to exhale gradually, bring the outstretched arms from the sides to the front of the body, keeping them extended, and join the palms together. (4) (Chī) Pause the breath briefly, and with the feeling of inhaling, draw the joined hands to the chest in a gesture of prayer. (5) (Nō) Exhale fully and bow forward until the fingertips touch the ground. Return to the original posture.

The origin and karmic connection of this Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] lie in the Great Kantō Earthquake [関東大震災, Kantō Dai-shinsai] of Taishō 12 (1923). The full account of the truth behind them is, in fact, recorded in Tenkō-san’s [天香さん] Record of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞録, Tenkakōdō Roku].

Therein, Tenkō-san [天香さん] calls this Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] the ‘Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action’ [坐脱立忘の五則, zadatsu ritsubō no gosoku], and states that they were received through inspiration from The Light. He further states that they are a practice that ‘unites physical discipline, the alms-round, and prayer in one’ [体操と托鉢と祈禱とを兼ぬる, taisō to takuhatsu to kitō to wo kanuru], and that ‘those who would be Friends of The Light’ [光の友たらん人, hikari no tomo taran hito] may ‘meet one another day by day through this Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] and the purification of the path’ [道潔め, michi kiyome]. So central did he consider this Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] to be that, ideally, one would wish readers to consult the Record of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞録, Tenkakōdō Roku] directly. However, as the passage is exceedingly long and detailed, I shall reproduce below a portion of an article that appeared in the magazine Hikari [光誌, Hikari-shi] (No. 879), closely following the relevant section of the Record of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞録, Tenkakōdō Roku].

Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai]—The Discipline of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action [坐脱立忘, Zadatsu Ritsubō]

〇 Form as Prayer

Every religion possesses a form of prayer. Every religion possesses a form of worship. In all likelihood, every religion—whether collectively or individually—has some form of morning worship to mark the beginning of the day, or evening worship to mark its end. Islam, for instance, prescribes prostration in worship several times a day. In the life of the individual, too, whatever the place, whatever the work, when the appointed hour arrives, one sets everything aside, prostrates oneself, and prays, intoning the prescribed words.

Even in Zen Buddhism [禅宗, Zenshū], which holds that all labour is the practice of the Buddha [仏行, butsugyō] and that life itself is the Dharma [生活即仏法, seikatsu soku buppō], there is nevertheless the form of seated meditation [坐禅, zazen] and the form of worship through the recitation of sūtras [誦経, jūkyō]. Form is, in itself, a distilled discipline of prayer.

At Ittōen [一燈園], the morning service [朝課, chōka] includes the recitation of the Vimalakīrti Sūtra Verse [維摩経偈, Yuima Kyōge] and the unison chanting of One Fact [一事実, Ichi Jijitsu], a passage from Tenkō-san’s [天香さん] Record of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞録, Tenkakōdō Roku]. The evening service [晩課, banka] includes, in addition to the Heart Sūtra [般若心経, Hannya Shingyō] and the Shari Raimon [舎利礼文, Shari Raimon], the Universal Gateway Chapter Verse of the Kannon Sūtra [観音経普門品偈, Kannon Kyō Fumonbon Ge], the Great Compassion Dhāraṇī [大悲呪, Daihi Shu], and the Vimalakīrti Sūtra Verse [維摩経偈, Yuima Kyōge] together with the Four Great Vows [四句誓願, Shigu Seigan].

But what must be specially noted here is this: although the morning service [朝課, chōka] includes the recitation of the two sūtra texts mentioned above, before these there is a further rite. Together with the Guide’s [導師, dōshi] offering of incense [献香, kenkō], all present rise, spread out, and face the worship altar [礼壇, reidan]. There, combining movements of the hands and feet with the loud sound of deep breathing, they perform the Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai]—a discipline of worship directed towards heaven, earth, and the four quarters.

Likewise, at the very end of the service, in unison with the five articles of the Prayer of Radiant Light [光明祈願, Kōmyō Kigan], all intone loudly—Ā, Mē, Tsū, Chī, Nō—and then conclude by chanting ‘Ō-Ūn’ three times in a great voice.

This in itself I receive as a great and distinctive form of prayer, a discipline born of Tenkō-san’s [天香さん] own invention and ingenuity. This Ō-Ūn (the characters Ōun [王雲, Ōun] are merely a phonetic rendering of the sound Ō-Ūn in Chinese characters) and this Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai]—when did they begin, and what meaning do they hold?

Heisei 5 (1993) brought a rare cold summer. At the northern end of the Japanese archipelago, earthquakes and tsunamis wrought devastation, while in the south, the volcanic eruption of Mount Unzen Fugen [雲仙普賢, Unzen Fugen] continued unabated. Yet for Japan, the disaster most deeply etched in memory must surely be the Great Kantō Earthquake [関東大震災, Kantō Dai-shinsai] of Taishō 12 (1923).

At the time of the Great Kantō Earthquake [関東大震災, Kantō Dai-shinsai] in Taishō 12 (1923), Tenkō-san [天香さん] happened to have encountered the calamity at Gotemba [御殿場, Gotemba] in Shizuoka Prefecture, while travelling to Tōkyō. For this reason, too, I believe the impression it left upon him was all the more intense. He received this disaster not merely as a natural catastrophe to be dealt with as such, but as a great warning bell from heaven against human hubris. With anguish over the many lives lost and the material destruction, and with prayers for recovery from the social upheaval, he raised a concrete vow called the ‘Triple Vow to Turn Calamity into Blessing’ [転災為福の三重の願, tensai ifuku no sanjū no gan].

The first was this: as an individual, may I attain the life that cannot die (that is, may I awaken to the true life that transcends birth and death).

The second: as a citizen, may I store up treasure in that which cannot be destroyed (and this surely means the field of merit [福田, fukuden]—the treasure of one’s labour offered up in service).

The third: as a member of the human race, may we build from the very root a life free of mutual resentment, and may a truly peaceful life, free of all conflict, be realised.

Such was the vow.

Thereafter, Tenkō-san [天香さん] devoted himself single-mindedly to the practice of repentance [懺悔, zange] and prayer [祈り, inori], turning his steps again and again towards the Prince’s Hall [太子殿, Taishi-den] at Shitennō-ji [四天王寺, Shitennō-ji] in Ōsaka and towards the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho] in Kyōto.

The Record of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞録, Tenkakōdō Roku] contains the following entry for the twenty-sixth day of the ninth month, Taishō 12 [大正十二年, Taishō Jūni-nen]:

‘At five in the morning, I departed from the clothing shelf, put on my earthquake straw sandals [震災わらじ, shinsai waraji] [the sandals of his penitential vow] and went to the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho]. I picked up scraps of paper scattered here and there along the way… Yesterday morning I was at Shitennō-ji [四天王寺, Shitennō-ji] and paid my respects at the Prince’s Hall [太子殿, Taishi-den]. The morning was still dark, and no one had yet come to pray; it was the close of the equinox observance [彼岸, higan]. I prayed, holding in my heart the Triple Vow [三重の願, sanjū no gan] I had raised in response to the earthquake…’

And for the thirtieth day of the ninth month:

‘I woke suddenly. It was three o’clock. I rose at once. The rain fell softly, and insects cried. Ah, you who suffer in the Kantō region, forgive me. My steps are slow. Though I am overcome with grief, yet surely, in time, I shall find comfort from the very root…’

And further:

‘Half past five. Wearing my straw sandals as always, I go to the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho]. I wondered how I might purify the path on a rainy day, yet I found such surpassing joy in gathering what I could along the way. At six o’clock precisely, I stand before the main gate. In shedding the self in stillness and forgetting the self in action [坐脱立忘, zadatsu ritsubō], I worship the Formless [無相, musō]. Facing north, I worship the Buddhas and gods of the past, the Imperial House, my teachers and elders, and my ancestors. Facing east, I worship the imperial spirits and the teachers and elders of the present. Facing south, I offer blessings upon all Fellows [同人, dōnin], companions on the Way, and all people. Facing west, I pray for all those bound by adverse karmic ties [逆縁, gyakuen], and for all sentient beings [含霊, ganrei] without exception. Let this hour of six in the morning be the hour of prayer for all Fellows [同人, dōnin] throughout the nation. Standing at the lowest place [下坐, geza], at the crossing of the four great roads, having cleansed the path, let us join our palms and perform the five bows described above. In that moment, I wish to meet all people. Through the three ages [三世, sanze] and across the ten directions [十方, jippō], let us meet together as one. This is the threshold of the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞, Tenkakōdō]—“before the sacred door” [おとびらまえ, o-tobira mae].’

And further still, for the fourth day of the tenth month:

‘I rose at five. Putting on the earthquake straw sandals [震災わらじ, shinsai waraji] that still remain, I went to the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho]… This morning I was able to kneel before the gate of the Palace and worship, naturally and with a pure heart. Four days ago I received the Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action [坐脱立忘の五則, zadatsu ritsubō no gosoku] through divine inspiration, but this morning I was yet more settled, and the inspiration ran deeper.’

And then:

‘At six o’clock precisely, I stand upright facing the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho]. From repentance [懺悔, zange] I enter samādhi [入定, nyūjō] and abide in the Formless [住無相, jū musō] (the essence of the Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action [坐脱立忘, zadatsu ritsubō]). At this moment, intoning the sacred syllable OṂ [唵字, onji], I tilt my head towards heaven and exhale with all my might. I breathe out as though filling the very heavens. Then, with the feeling of drawing up the whole earth, I inhale (returning my head to its natural position). I do this five times, then quietly settle the lower abdomen [丹田, tanden] and return to the Formless [無相, musō]. (This is the first step of seated meditation in the Fragrant Cave of Heavenly Flowers [天華香洞, Tenkakōdō].)

Then, facing east: The syllable Ā [阿字, aji]. The east is the beginning. I worship all Buddhas of the past, the Emperor, my elders, my parents, and my brothers and sisters. I spread both arms wide, then thrust them forward, and clap three times. At the end, I bow from the waist.

Then, facing south: The syllable Ī [咦字, iji]. I worship all Buddhas of the present, the Emperor, and my elders. The clapping is as before. At the end, I bow from the waist.

Then, facing west: The syllable Ū [吽字, unji]. I pray for the Fellows [同人, dōnin] and companions on the Way of the present, and for those who come after. At the end, I bow from the waist.

Then, facing north: The syllable Ē [〇字, eji]. I pray for enemies and those bound by adverse karmic ties [逆縁, gyakuen], whether of the past or the present. At the end, I bow from the waist. (Note: the kanji corresponding to Ē is unclear in the original manuscript and is marked with 〇.)

Afterwards, I spread the worship mat [坐具, zagu], kneel, and with single-minded devotion prostrate myself before the Great Universe. Thus I conclude.

The above I have received from The Light as the the Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action [坐脱立忘の五則, zadatsu ritsubō no gosoku]. If to these Five Principles one adds the cleansing of the path [道清め, michi kiyome], it shall become the very essence of all physical discipline. Of its own accord, it shall unite physical discipline, the alms-round [托鉢, takuhatsu], and prayer [祈禱, kitō] into one. Those who would be Friends of The Light [光の友, hikari no tomo] must surely descend each morning to the lowest place, and through the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] and the purification of the path [道潔め, michi kiyome], meet one another day by day… The Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] (the Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action [坐脱立忘の五則, zadatsu ritsubō no gosoku]) are the foremost dignified bearing [威儀, igi] before The Light, and the protocol of profound prayer [深禱, shintō].’

(Note: the order of the Four Bows[四礼, shirai] differs between the entries for the thirtieth of September and the fourth of October. This appears to be because one may begin either from the north or from the east. The content of the Four Bows [四礼, shirai] also differs slightly between the two accounts.)

The Ōun [王雲, Ōun] and the Returning-to-One and Four Bows [一帰四礼, Ikki Shirai] performed at the beginning of the morning service [朝課, chōka]—this form of worship was, precisely, a discipline received by Tenkō-san [天香さん] through inspiration from The Light in the grounds of the Imperial Palace [御所, Gosho], on the thirtieth of September and the fourth of October, Taishō 12 (1923), during the period of his most profound prayer over the earthquake. He expressly designated it the ‘Five Principles of Shedding the Self in Stillness and Forgetting the Self in Action’ [坐脱立忘の五則, zadatsu ritsubō no gosoku].

He called it ‘the foremost dignified bearing [威儀, igi] before The Light, and the protocol of profound prayer [深禱, shintō]’. The phrase ‘from repentance, entering samādhi [入定, nyūjō] and abiding in the Formless’ [住無相, jū musō]—to ‘abide in the Formless’ means to ‘return to the Formless’ [無相に帰る, musō ni kaeru], which is surely to enter into emptiness [空, kū] and to return to emptiness. ‘Shedding the self in stillness and forgetting the self in action’ [坐脱立忘, zadatsu ritsubō] likewise signifies nothing other than awakening and liberation, emptiness and nothingness.

The form differs somewhat from the present practice, yet the essence is one, and its karmic origin and wellspring lie here. And I believe we may say that here, too, lies one of the foundations of the form of prayer in the Ittōen Life [一燈園生活, Ittōen Seikatsu].