Aad Sach, Jugaad Sach True in the beginning, True thoughout the ages Haibhay Sach, Nanak Hosee Bhay Sach True here and now, O Nanak, God shall forever be True
Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi
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Saigyo (1100s, Japan; Buddhist priest, poet) -
Whatever it is, I cannot understand it, although gratitude stubbornly overcomes me until I'm reduced to tears.
*Sam Hamill; Seaton, J. P., Trans. The Poetry of Zen.
Note: Saigyo, one of the most influential Japanese and Buddist poets, was not strictly Zen. He did, however, profoundly influence later Zen poets and aesthetics.
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"Whatever it is." You can experience this, but you cannot communicate it to others. You may try, but your success will be mute. Still, "it is."
Those are two key words in such subtle experience: "it" and "is." This something cannot be dressed up in Mother, Father, God, Goddess, Creator, Shiva, Buddha, Christ, or whatever. If you say, "God is," "is" is more true, not "God." "Is" is a stop-gate for the brain: "God" cannot pass, not even "is."
So, we try to talk about this "Whatever." And, so, we worshiip with silence. Silence is an act of reverence, of confession: "Whatever," and "it is." Silence says more than the tongue, and it is more faithful to the truth.
Being touched deeply, however, we feel gratitude and tears. We do not try to feel grateful. We are "overcome." We are acted upon by an onrush, "stubborn," appreciation. These - gratitude, tears - are the voice of this "it is." We are deeply touched, but we do not know how; we cannot fathom a why. We are dropped out of our head.
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The Japanese Zen poet Fujiwara No Ietaka (1158–1237) blossomed as a poet late in life, establishing unshin ("heartfelt emotion") as a major characteristic of Japanese poetry. He confirms the role emotion plays in spiritual life. We can be overcome and cry, which is good. Beauty can overwhelm us.
In an instant, we can shift from emotional aridity to this plentitude of feeling. And both arise from the same "Whatever." And each equally belongs as a manifestation of "it is."
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Saigyo reminds us the Way is intimate, so intimate, we at times feel wetness filling our eyes and rolling down our cheeks, and whatever we say in response, if we speak, cannot say what "it is" leading to such being overcome and heartfelt gratitude. We grow to be content with not needing or being able to understand this: we grow to be more at home with this than our prior experience in which we labeled and named such experience. We grow to lean toward not talking about this "it is." And the intimacy with intimacy grows, until there is no space between.
