I have nothing

The Rōshi spoke about Dōgen going to China. Generally, when they went to China, they came back with some of these rolls and scrolls. There’s this huge library of them. Or they brought back relics of the founder. He says, “He came back” – Dōgen came back – “Empty-handed, with nothing in his hand.” After actually no contact with the rulers of Japan, he went to a very remote and extremely cold place and founded his monastery there, in complete isolation: nothing. He brought back nothing, but he founded this great Zen sect, which today is enormously powerful and influential. He brought back nothing.

We had this tradition, too. The temple built by Herod the Great was covered with gold plate, but at the centre, in the Holy of Holies, there was nothing. The room was empty. The Roman general Titus captured Jerusalem in AD 68. It was the Romans’ custom always, when they captured the enemy’s citadel, to bring out the gods and destroy them in public, to break the will of the people to resist. Titus went in and it was empty! He said when he came out, “You know, we’re going to have trouble with these people. You can destroy gods, but how are you going to destroy nothing?”

When that siege was beginning, one of the great scholars and mystics, Zakkai , left Jerusalem. He was rich and famous, but he left. He said, “This is a terrible mistake, this war with Rome.” He left. He passed through the Roman lines. He interviewed the future Emperor, Vespasian, who looked at him and said, “What are you doing, escaping from Jerusalem?” He said, “Look, I have nothing,” so Vespasian said, “Alright, go through.” He founded the school from which the whole of the Jewish Renaissance later took place. He had nothing. In the same way, it’s very difficult for us, in judo, to give up our excellence and have nothing. There’s a riddle: “Holding a spade, empty-handed.” You think, “In judo we have this phrase, too: ‘I’m making the throw. I’m not making the throw.’ What does it mean?”

I’m swinging a golf club 300 times. It must be exactly the same, to the centimetre, not faster or slower. It’s very boring. People can’t do it. They get bored after 40 or 50. They try and hit as hard as they can. Then they get tired. Then they cut the ground. Then they try a different grip. They’re bored: swinging it, but not swinging it. You think, “Golf clubs are vulgar.” Somehow a spade (most of us have never held a spade) is more romantic. No, these are the times. When we have a wire brush to brush the steps clean. To be brushing, but not brushing. What does it mean? If I’m not brushing, it’ll stop. No, there will still be ‘I’. Brushing, but not brushing.

These are the times to apply these riddles, in the boring, monotonous jobs of daily life. Not just in abstraction, not just in meditation periods. These are the times, and we can find a secret in it. There are physical secrets, even. In movement, there are physical secrets. We were taught in judo not to open a door like that, to open it with a slight move on the centre of the body.

When I was keen on judo, when I was young, I remember the teacher showed us this with a swing door. I went home that night, and there was big swing door. It was getting late so I stood in front of this door. Then I thought I’d got it. I pulled it open and I said, “Ah,” and I went through it. I just looked back and I saw the porter was standing there watching, but you can’t learn to skate without looking ridiculous. You can’t predict. You’ve got to cut off the horns, cut off the excellence, and then there’s a chance for inspiration.

One pupil, he used to worry about what would happen and what he would do if certain things happened. He was always planning: “What ought I to do in this contingency or in that contingency? What would be the spiritual thing to do if this, or this, or this happened?” He was a good swimmer, so one day the teacher said, “Will you show me the racing dive? I’ve heard of it.” “Oh, yes,” so they went to the swimming bath. As they were walking along by the side of it, the teacher suddenly pushed him in. So, he went in the water sideways on, and he came up and came out.

Then the teacher said, “You went in sideways on. Surely, nobody ever goes in like that.” He said, “No, they don’t.” The teacher said, “Well, how did you know how to come to the surface? How did you know what to do? What did you do?” He said, “I don’t know what I did, but I’m a swimmer. I shall come to the surface. I don’t know what I did.” The teacher said, “In the same way, when something unexpected happens, if you’re a meditator, you’ll come to the surface. You don’t have to plan what you’re going to do, and you don’t even have to know what you’re doing.” There’s sometimes something hidden.

Titles in this series are:

Part 1: Collected Stories

Part 2: Egoism or Pride

Part 3: Christianity was put down in Japan

Part 4: Fifty-two stages of Buddhism

Part 5: You are caught in technique

Part 6: I have nothing

Part 7: Advance in emptiness