THE BLACK DRAGON JEWEL IS EVERYWHERE
Many believe that connection with Source and Sustenance is not in the kitchen but somewhere else that is more gripping, perhaps higher, more soaring, or less work with fewer obstacles. On occasion you may find engaging times elsewhere, losing yourself in what is bigger. I’m especially in awe of mountain climbers. One said recently, “Your state of mind eludes words.” The intensity, the adrenaline rush, the high may be compelling, yet things that grab your attention often do not suffice to bring you up short, stopping you on the spot, so that you need to wake up or turn back. Watching television, going to the movies or the mall, surfing the internet, or going out for pizzas, beer, and burgers may fill the time and space, but while you were being carried along, where was your opportunity to show up? Resonating with what is innermost, you give it voice; you put it into action.
Is There Anything Good about Working in the Kitchen?
Do not wait for great enlightenment, as great enlightenment is the tea and rice of daily activity. Do not wish for beyond enlightenment, as beyond enlightenment is a jewel concealed in your hair.
ZEN MASTER DŌGEN
Zen Master Dōgen arrived in China in 1223, and while he was still on the boat, he made the acquaintance of a cook-monk who had walked perhaps ten miles to purchase dried mushrooms for an upcoming ceremony. Dōgen felt a strong and vibrant connection with him and wished to invite the cook-monk to share a meal with him, but the cook refused, saying he needed to attend to his responsibilities. Dōgen did not understand how he could be so committed to the work of the kitchen:
I again asked the tenzo, “Honorable Tenzo, why don’t you concentrate on zazen (meditation) practice and on the study of the ancient masters’ words rather than troubling yourself by holding the position of tenzo and just working? Is there anything good about it?”
The tenzo laughed a lot and replied, “Good man from a foreign country, you do not yet understand practice or know the meaning of the words of ancient masters.”
Hearing him respond this way, I suddenly felt ashamed and surprised, so I asked him, “What are words? What is practice?”
The tenzo said, “If you penetrate this question, how can you fail to become a person of understanding?”*
Sometimes the last sentence is translated: “If you hold this question close to your heart, you cannot fail to become a person of understanding.”
Here Zen Master Dōgen asks the question that we continue to ask ourselves about kitchen work: “Is there anything good about it?” Don’t we have more important things to do? Doing important work that benefits others, or simply earning a living, or perhaps attaining fame and fortune (possibly even as a spiritual person meditating and studying), enjoying ourselves—perhaps skiing, hang gliding or rock climbing—or properly relaxing and being entertained? I’m still sorting out how to spend my time here on planet Earth. Shouldn’t there be something to show for my time here?
To understand the answer to this inquiry, the cook-monk attests that we will need to keep the question close to our heart and see what we can find out. We’ll need to sacrifice some of the other possibilities, show up in the kitchen, and do something with our blood, sweat, and tears. Do something with devotion. In our world, devotion to a noble cause is exalted, while devotion to working in the kitchen is seen as somehow misguided. It certainly doesn’t pay well. And now eighty-eight billionaires have as much wealth as the rest of the population. They are clearly devoted. To what? we might wonder, aside from making more money?
While we appreciate sacrifices being made for physical adventures, we don’t always understand the “tea and rice (effort) of daily activity.” A whole pot of beet soup floods the floor. Nuts burn. We have no food left inside, so we must let the food speak for itself. We absorb the pain, grow larger-hearted, clean up the mess, and carry on. “To heal,” said Stephen Levine, “is to touch with love that which we previously touched with fear.” What good work.
In a fascinating article in the New Yorker, Japanese Zen priest Ittetsu Nemoto describes how he was about to drop a giant pot when huge energy washed through him. He could do anything. In a similar fashion, the poet Rumi encourages us to meet this “clear consciousness core of your being, the same in ecstasy as in self-hating fatigue.”
We may be impressed by the dedication of professional athletes aiming for peak performance, while facing the everyday tumult leaves us cold. The saying in Zen is that we are like rocks in a tumbler. Getting the rough edges knocked off, we emerge smooth and polished. Unfortunately for our self-esteem, while being tossed and turned, we probably have not developed any muscles with which to flex and impress.
The Black Dragon Jewel
Through one word, or seven words, or three times five, even if you thoroughly investigate myriad forms, nothing can be depended upon. Night advances, the moon glows and falls into the ocean. The black dragon jewel you have been searching for is everywhere.
XUEDOU (J. SETCHŌ)
Tracing Dōgen’s story, we find in Tenzo Kyōkun that he has the good fortune to meet the tenzo-monk from the ship again. Here is his account:
I was moved with joy. I served him tea, and we talked. When I referred to the discussion of words and practice, which had taken place on the ship, the tenzo said, “To study words you must know the origin of words. To endeavor in practice you must know the origin of practice.”
I asked, “What are words?”
The tenzo said, “One, two, three, four, five.”
I asked again, “What is practice?”
“Nothing in the entire universe is hidden.”
We talked about many other things, which I will not introduce now. If I know a little about words or understand practice, it is because of the great help of the tenzo. I told my late master Myosin about this in detail, and he was extremely pleased.
I later found a verse which Xuedou—(known as Setchō in Japanese, a highly venerated monk in twelfth-century China)—wrote for a monk:
Through one word, or seven words, or three times five,
even if you thoroughly investigate myriad forms,
nothing can be depended upon.
Night advances, the moon glows and falls into the ocean.
The black dragon jewel you have been searching for is everywhere.
What the tenzo had told me corresponded with Xuedou’s poem. So I knew all the more that the tenzo was truly a person of the way.
The black dragon jewel that you have been searching for is everywhere. When I first heard this, it went straight inside to a place that responded, Oh, of course, followed by an immediate softening and receiving. Love, what is precious, what is healing, is everywhere, when you hold the moment close and are willing to receive the comfort and love that is available.
Nothing in the entire universe is hidden means (among other things) that it’s no secret that money and accomplishments may not bring you love or the feeling of preciousness inside that you have been searching for. It’s no secret that when you focus on one thing, everything is included. What you’ve been searching for is everywhere—and does not depend on your performance but on your willingness to receive the treasure that cannot be earned.
In the kitchen or out, when you give your heart to something, you feel your heart. When you let things come home to your heart, you feel the love from Beyond. Cooking may or may not be a place for you to find this out. You’ll have to see.
A Student Asks, “Why Haven’t You Enlightened Me Yet?”
When a student at Tassajara asked Suzuki Roshi, “Why haven’t you enlightened me yet?” his response was, “I’m making my best effort.” I found that a phenomenal expression of love, of not being hooked by the student’s thinking. The question seemed disrespectful, as well as ill considered. Whose work is it after all, your enlightenment? In fact, we could say that everything is making its best effort to enlighten you—the black dragon jewel is everywhere. And so, who is not letting enlightenment occur?
Which brings us back to Dōgen and his question about kitchen work in the Tenzo Kyōkun, “Is there anything good about it?” The answer is not to be found in the standards of the world—perhaps money, power, rank, fame—which never quite suffice, but in you yourself. You lighten up. You let what is Beyond flow into you, flow through you. You offer your heart and your hands, your awareness to bringing forth food.
*from Moon in a Dewdrop translated by Kazauki Tanahashi