Spring, Reiwa 7 (2025) – “Playing with Flowers, My Robes Are Filled with Fragrance”

The cherry blossoms in Kyoto are in full bloom. Both the flowers and the people are in high spirits. Around Gion, where I live, the streets feel like a festival during this season.

About a thirty-minute drive north from the city lies the area of Ohara. As you head north, the hustle and bustle gradually quiet down. Once you cross the mountains that border the city, Ohara feels like a completely different world. While the cherry blossoms in the city are in full bloom, in Ohara, the buds are just beginning to burst open.

In Ohara, there is a small Zen temple called Shōbō-an. Zen temples, to begin with, tend to be simple and unadorned. Even so, Shōbō-an is so modest that, at first glance, one might not even realize it is a temple. It is, in essence, the very embodiment of the opposite of excess. The head monk of Shōbō-an is Tai-san, a senior from my days of training at the monastery. Tai-san is a Zen monk like a drifting cloud - unattached and without fixation.

I hope people have the opportunity to sober up from the intoxication of daily life. That’s why I teach zazen to those who seek it - as a skill for that purpose. In that sense, Shōbō-an is the perfect place.

We live our lives with a constant sense of “I am me.” This so-called ego is taken as granted. When one tries to step away from that sense of self, one is exposed to the reality of the present moment. This is what I value in the practice of zazen; right here, right now – one surrenders one’s own rhythm and entrusts oneself to the rhythm of the place.

Both the land of Ohara and Shōbō-an seem to gently support this act of surrender. At Shōbō-an, I share moments with companions - moments where we surrender to the nature of Ohara. With relaxed zazen, we entrust ourselves to the winds of Ohara. With a body that has softened just enough and sensitivity that has grown more refined, we take in the flowers and vegetables nurtured by this land. It is an experience of surrendering, inside and out, to this place. What is often thought of as abstract or difficult to grasp - this Zen sensibility - can be felt and understood through the body. I believe this experience can serve as a starting point for that.

I have decided to name this experience: “Playing with Flowers, My Robes Are Filled with Fragrance” (Rō ka kō e ni mitsu), a phrase from the Zen tradition. It depicts a scene where, by playing with flowers, one’s robes become filled with their scent. I interpret this as an expression of non-duality - no separation between self and others. By playing with flowers, we come to realize that the flowers and ourselves were never separate.

What a natural and gentle realization that is.

Tosei Shinabe