Supreme Spiritual Ideal

When I was first invited to speak about the supreme spiritual ideal, I didn’t exactly know how to respond. First, I am just an ordinary man who has suddenly been thrown into the hustle and bustle of this city of London from a distant corner of the world, and I am perplexed, so my mind refuses to work in the same way it does when I am in my own country. Second, how can a modest person like me speak about such a great thing as the supreme spiritual ideal, especially in front of such a brilliant gathering of people, each of whom appears to be so wise and intelligent as if they know everything under the sun? I am ashamed to have been asked to stand here. The first mistake was made when I left Japan.

Allow me to tell you about how I lived before coming to London. In my country, we have houses covered with straw. Japanese houses are generally small. So, you can still see many such straw houses in the countryside, and mine is one of them. I wake up in the morning… the song of birds. I am opening windows that look straight into the garden. Japanese windows are quite different from your English ones. English windows are more like holes in the walls, while Japanese windows are a combination of English windows and walls. So, when Japanese windows are open, one side of the house is completely removed. The house itself opens directly into the garden. There is no division between the house and the garden, while here the house is quite separate. The house stands on its own, as does its inhabitant. Its inhabitant is completely separate from their surroundings. There is nature, there am I; you are you, I am me, so it doesn’t seem like there is a connection between the two – nature, the natural environment, and the inhabitant.

Therefore, by opening a Japanese window, the house continues into the garden. And I can see the trees undisturbed, not like when I look through an English window, where one peeks into the garden. I can see the trees grow from the ground. And when I see the trees grow from the ground, it feels like I sense something mysterious coming from the trees and from the Mother Earth loves me. And it feels like I live with them, and they in me and with me. I don’t know if this unity can be called spiritual or not. I don’t have time to label it in any way, but it fulfills me. Then there is a small pond, a little lower in the garden. I hear fish occasionally jumping out of the pond as if they are so happy that they can’t swim peacefully in the water. Are they happy? I don’t know, but somehow I feel that they are very happy. Just like we dance when we are filled with joy, the fish surely dance too. Do they also receive something from the element in which they live and do they have their own life? What is that something, after all, that stirs inside me while listening to the dance of fish in the pond?

Then, this is the time when lotuses bloom. The pond is full of them and my thoughts travel far to the other side of the world. When I speak like this, do you think I am dreaming in the middle of this big city? Perhaps I am dreaming. But my dream, I somehow feel, is not entirely empty. Couldn’t there be something of eternal and universal value in the things I dream about? This o All the buildings that I see around me are truly a remarkable achievement, a great human accomplishment, no doubt.
I had a similar feeling when I visited China and was faced with the Great Wall of China, which you may have heard of. Is it eternal, as I like to say about my dreams? Let the earth just shake a little… Fortunately, in that part of the country, it doesn’t shake as often as it does in Japan. But let it shake once. I wonder what the consequences will be? I see those consequences, but I refuse to think about it. However, some time ago, someone wrote in an American magazine about the ruins of New York City, where future researchers might try to locate one of the tallest buildings in the world – they call them skyscrapers, right? But I won’t speak about it anymore; I must stop dreaming…
Let me wake up and face reality. But what are those realities that are now before me – it’s not you, it’s not this building, and not even this microphone, but that supreme spiritual ideal, those high-sounding words. They There are lies coming out of me. I can no longer dream about anything. I need to bring my mind to this topic, the supreme spiritual ideal. But I truly don’t know what spiritual means, what ideal means, what the supreme spiritual ideal means. It seems like I can’t grasp the true meaning of those three words, so obviously placed before me.

Here in London, I stepped out of the hotel where I stayed. I see so many men and women on the streets who walk so fast – or rather, run, because it doesn’t seem to me that they walk; they act like they’re running. Maybe that’s not entirely accurate, but that’s how it seems to me. Then, the expressions on their faces are more or less tense, their facial muscles are very tight; they have a hard time relaxing. The roads are congested with all kinds of vehicles, buses, cars; as if they flow in a continuous stream – in a constant, uninterrupted stream, and I don’t know when I can step into that rushing stream of vehicles. The shops are adorned with all kinds of things that, it seems to me, I don’t need in my straw-covered shack. When I see all these things , I can’t help but wonder where these so-called modern civilized people are ultimately headed. What is their destiny? Are they in search of the ultimate spiritual ideal? Are the intense expressions on their faces somehow a symbol of their desire to find spirituality? Will they really spread spirituality to the farthest corners of the world? I don’t know. I can’t answer.

So, spirituality is generally in opposition to the material ideal, to the current or practical, and supreme to the everyday. When we talk about the supreme spiritual ideal, does that mean that we should actually reject what seems to be material, what is not idealistic but practical and prosaic; it is not supreme but quite ordinary – our everyday life in this big city? When we talk about spirituality, do we have to get rid of all these things? Does spirituality mean something completely separate from what we see? I don’t think such a way of speaking, when we separate spirit from matter and matter from spirit, is a useful way of looking at things around us. About us.

In fact, matter and spirit are one, representing two sides of the same reality. The wise will try to hold on to reality, the very shield, instead of only looking at it from one side or the other, which is sometimes known as matter and sometimes as spirit. Because when only the material side is embraced, there will be no spiritual aspect in the matter. When only the spiritual side is emphasized, the matter will be completely neglected. The result in both cases is one-sidedness, mutilation of the reality that needs to be kept whole and healthy.

When our minds are properly attuned, they are capable of perceiving a reality that is neither spirit nor matter, yet is both spirit and matter; I dare say that London, in all its materiality, is exceptionally spiritual; likewise, when our minds are distorted, all monasteries and temples, all cathedrals and all church commandments, all holy places with their sacred equipment, all their devout worshippers and believers, everything that falls under the name of religion, I dare say, are nothing more than materiality, a heap of mud and corruption.

I believe that material things should not be despised nor should spiritual things always be elevated – I mean everything that is called spiritual, what is proud to be called spiritual. Such things should not always be elevated. Those who speak of spirituality are sometimes violent people, while among those who have accumulated great wealth and seem inclined towards material things, we often find noble souls. But the main problem is how to fit my straw house in the middle of those solidly constructed London walls? And how to raise my humble hut in the midst of Oxford Circus? How will I do it amidst the chaos of cars, buses, and all kinds of transportation? How can I listen to the singing of birds and the hopping of fish? How to turn all the shop windows into the freshness of green leaves swaying in the morning breeze? How to find the naturalness, innocence, and ultimate selflessness of nature in the greatest artificiality of human creations? That is the big problem that lies before us these days. ana.
Once again, I know nothing about the supreme spiritual ideal. But since I am forced to confront this so-called materiality of the modern age, I must reflect on it. As long as man is a work of nature, even a work of God, what he does, what he creates, cannot be completely despised as material and opposed to the so-called spiritual. It must somehow be material-spiritual or spiritual-material with a connection between these two concepts – the spiritual is not separate from the material, the material is not separate from the spiritual, but united, with a connection. I don’t like to refer to terms such as objectivity and subjectivity, but for lack of a more suitable expression, allow me to say this now: if the spiritual-material, connected with a connector, cannot be objectively found, let us find it in our subjective thoughts and work to transform the whole world accordingly.
Allow me to tell you how one ancient master solved this. His name was Yoshu, and he lived in a peaceful mountain monastery. The place where Yoshu lived was known for its natural stone bridge. Monasteries are usually built in mountains, and the place where Yoshu stayed was famous for its stone bridge over the waterfall. Once, a monk came to the master and asked him: “This place is known for its natural stone bridge, but when I came here, I didn’t see any stone bridge. Just a rotting piece of wood. Where is your bridge, tell me, teacher?” This question was directed to the teacher, who replied: “You only see that weak and shaky form and you don’t see the stone bridge.” The student asked, “Where is the stone bridge then?” to which the teacher replied: “Horses cross over it, donkeys cross over it, cats and dogs…” (I apologize for adding a little more than what the master actually said). “Cats and dogs, tigers and elephants cross over it, men and women, the poor and the rich, the young and the old, the humble and the noble…; English people, maybe Japanese, Muslims, Christians; spirituality and materiality, ideal and practical, that which is Perception is the most common thing, everyone crosses it, even you, monk, who refuses to see it, actually walk over it quite indifferently and above all ungratefully. You don’t say ‘thank you’ for crossing the bridge. So why is this stone bridge good? Do we see it? Do we walk over it? The bridge doesn’t shout and say, ‘I am your supreme spiritual ideal!’ The stone bridge remains still and continues to stand quietly from the infinite past to the endless future.”

I will stop here. Thank you for listening carefully to my Japanese English. I assume you made an effort to understand me. Then kindness must be mutual; don’t we gain insight into what we call global spiritual unity in that reciprocity of kindness?