Orange County Buddhist Church  

A Way Of Seeing (The 10th Month, 2003)

Juugatsu ya                It is the 10th month.
Yoso e mo yukazu       I go nowhere;
Hito mo kozu              No one comes here.
    - Shoohaku                 tr. by R.H. Blyth

    I really had to stretch for something to say this month, because there is no special service that I could base this essay on.  The haiku by Shoohaku is in R.H. Blyth’s Haiku, Vol. 3, summer – autumn.
    I seldom go anywhere in any month, let alone the tenth (which might not be October, since the haiku was probably written when the lunar calendar was still being used), and people seldom come to our place, which is probably for the better, what with the condition of the house.  I was probably born in the year of the packrat, not just a simple rat, if you get my point.
    The haiku actually does not fit my situation this year, because we’ll be going to Japan:  Hokkaido, then Kyoto and Tokyo.  I hope the severe aftershocks in Hokkaido are over by the time we get there.
    Although the haiku doesn’t really fit the situation, I am using it for the commentary that Blyth brings to it.  “Why should absence have a deeper meaning than presence, no one and nowhere than someone and somewhere?  In truth, the ‘no one’ of the poem is a being as real as ourselves:
    “’I see nobody on the road,’ said Alice [of  Alice’s Adventures  in Wonderland].  ‘I only wish I had such eyes,’ the King remarked in a fretful tone.  ‘To be able to see Nobody!  And at that distance too!  Why, it’s as much as I can do to see real people, by this light.’”
    Not knowing anything about the author of the haiku, Shoohaku, it is difficult to say how literally or figuratively we should understand it.  Is he saying simply that he doesn’t go out a whole lot in the tenth month, maybe because it’s too cold, and that not a whole lot of people come to his place, for whatever reason?  Or is he saying, perhaps, that, from the Buddhist point of view, he goes “nowhere” and “no one” comes, playing off the teaching of “no self?”  And to reiterate Blyth’s questions, why should absence have a deeper meaning than presence, no one and nowhere than someone and somewhere?
    If you do not think Blyth’s questions are all that meaningful, you might ask something like, Why does it take a loved one’s death to make you realize what you should have done or said (such as, I love you, mom/dad; or, I’m sorry) while that person was still alive?  October is a good month to think about such things, because it is cool but not so cold that you think more about the weather, so I hope you do.  Think, that is.

                       Gassho,
Dull-rooted Jaan, Rev. John Doami

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