drafty mountain hut

Kaoru Kakizakai in Seattle

by dairo tendo

Kaoru Kakizakai.png

Kaoru Kakizakai playing a 3.0 shakuhachi

Late June 2018 renowned Shakuhachi player Kaoru Kakizakai visited for a week of lessons, a workshop and a house concert. The house concert was a real treat, very intimate, with a small number of shakuhachi aficionado’s. You were really able to watch a master at work.

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This very place

by dairo tendo


This very place is the best place

Calligraphy by Shodo Harada Roshi. For more from this calligraphy demonstration see here: Shodo Harada Calligraphy Demonstration.


by dairo tendo


What do worldly people grieve?
Pain and pleasure entwine without end,
birth and death come and go for many eons.
East, west, south, and north–whose house is it?
Zhang, Wang, Li and Zhao are temporary names.
The six paths and the river of hell are crooked as flax–
because the hosts within fail to cut them off,
in the end, they run stray and invite transmigration.

-Han Shan.
Translated by Kazuaki Tanahashi & Peter Levitt in The Complete Cold Mountain

It is clear who is host and who is guest

by dairo tendo


It is clear who is host and who is guest.

From the Lin-Ji Yulu. Calligraphy by Shodo Harada Roshi. For more from this calligraphy demonstration see here: Shodo Harada Calligraphy Demonstration.

your life is a shadow

by dairo tendo

Your life is a shadow
lived inside a dream,
Once that is realized
self and other vanish.
Pursue fame, the glory
of a prince won’t suffice;
Take a step or two back
a gourd dipper’s all you need.
No matters in the mind
passions quiet of themselves
mind freed from matter
means suchness everywhere.
The moment these truths
are grasped as your own
the mind opens and clears
like the empty void above

— Baisao¬†from¬†The Old Tea Seller: Life and Zen Poetry in 18th Century Kyoto translated by Norman Waddell

only what is necessary

by dairo tendo

Hermitage at Tahoma-san

My Drafty Mountain Hut at Tahoma-san

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Dwelling in the Mountains 28

by dairo tendo

I reverently welcome sage teachings
and humbly study the ancient sutras

here in luminous mountain expanses
far from towns full of meat’s stench.

The Great Vow of Limitless Compassion
saving all things from deep confusion–

it’s nothing but feckless chatter in places crowded with people.
It needs the nourishment of Way’s solitude to fulfill its nobility.

We revere the blooming radiance of Buddha’s Deer Park gardens
and admire the summit of his renowned Spirt-Vulture Mountain,

yearn for the pure forests resounding with his voice in Kevaddha
and long for the fragrant gardens where he taught in Amrapali:

but however distant and remote the Buddh’as pure face may seem,
they say the sounds of his lament are always with us everywhere,

so I built a monastery among the quiet mystery of high peaks,
hoping monks would come, walking-sticks in hand, and find repose.

These sitting cushions seem gifts given by Pradipataja Buddha
and our meals perfect kindness offered by Gandhakuta Buddha.

Here, our struggles all fading away, through sees through it all,
and this close to the inner pattern, antiquity continues refreshed.

Hsieh Ling-yun, translated by David Hinton in The Mountain Poems of Hsieh Ling-yun