Uchiyama Roshi's Persimmon
“The persimmon is a strange fruit. If you eat it before it's fully ripe, it tastes just awful. It makes your mouth pucker up because of its astringency. Actually, you can't eat it unripe; you just have to spit it out and throw the whole thing away. In other words, if you don't let it really ripen—and of course, I'm using this as a metaphor for Buddhist practice—you just have to throw it away. That's why I hope that people will begin to practice and then continue until it's really ripe.”
-Uchiyama Kosho Roshi
Many people want a title, it seems. “I want to be the boss! I want the respect and the benefits that come from the title!” There is a goal and a track even to their zen practice. “ I want to be a Roshi! I want to be the leader, the Doshi, the Doan, and the zazen master!” I have even heard people ask “When do I get to wear the brown robe (O-kesa)?” There is nothing wrong with wanting to ordain as a monk, heck, I wanted that more than anything. I also feel that the American Soto Zen communities should make this path more available to practitioners and allow them to live away from the monastery. There is nothing wrong with wanting to dedicate your life to the Buddha-Dharma and make an endless promise to help out all beings forever until every single snake, pig, and rooster attains the unsurpassed perfect enlightenment. However, one must put in their time as a student first. Attaining the great brown robe of Shakyamuni Buddha is just an adornment if it doesn’t represent the “unsurpassed profound and wonderous Dharma that is rarely met with”. Dressing like a Doctor and treating patients, without the skilled training of a Doctor, results in dangerous and painful results. The same is true when we don’t let our practice mature naturally and allow for the Dharma to penetrate our hearts and minds through and through. Becoming one with the 4 Bodhisattva vows is to allow our practice to ripen like the sweet persimmon in Uchiyama Roshi’s metaphor. When I was in Japan I saw many beautiful persimmon trees. They were dark, cracked trees that looked as if they were dead, but had the most beautiful bright orange bulbs on the branches. The fruit was so vibrant and alive. In contrast to the tree, I thought it a strange sight to see what looked like birth and death. As the shinkansen passed at incredible speeds I saw the blur of orange and black that was the persimmon orchards. For me, Zen practice is similar in another way to the persimmon tree. A cracked and haggard-looking life can produce the sweetest brightest persimmons, when in the hands of a skilled gardener. The gardener cares for the tree, prunes, waters, and provides rich soil. These are the conditions that allow the tree to sit and mature in its growth. When the tree is ready the sweetest, most nutritious fruit is offered to anyone, regardless of their background, to pick and enjoy. Let’s all continue to sit and let our Dharma teachers provide the setting and ingredients to make us all healthy and beneficial persimmons for generations to come.
Beings are numberless; I vow to save them.
Delusions are inexhaustible; I vow to end them.
Dharma gates are boundless; I vow to enter them.
Buddha’s way is unsurpassable; I vow to become it.
