Episode Details

Hello Friends,

Happy April 1st! Here we are, its Aries Season, it’s Spring, Mercury and Venus have both been retrograde for a while now (which can give a certain feeling of friction or underworld journey to our days), there is much happening in our geo-political world that I (we) wish wasn’t happening.

And still the magnolias are blooming, the songbirds are back, tulips are pushing through the mulch in our front yard, the sun is rising earlier and setting later.

Aries season reminds us that our life force is resilient, there is a certain courage within the bud that allows it to open. There is a certain courage within each of us to continue to live our lives, to walk this path of awakening, to let ourselves be opened by the world—even when things feel fragile or scary or uncertain.

In this spirit I would like to share this koan from the Hidden Lamp Collection called Ryonen Scars Her Face.

As a young woman, Ryonen Genso was an attendant to the empress, and was known for her beauty and intelligence. When the empress died, she felt the impermanence of life, and she decided to become a nun. Ryonen traveled to the city of Edo in search of a Zen teacher.

The first teacher refused her because of her beauty. Then she asked Master Hakuo Dotai, who also refused her. He could see her sincere intention, but he too said that her womanly appearance would cause problems for the monks in his monastery.

Afterward, she saw some women pressing fabric, and she took up a hot iron and held it against her face, scarring herself. Then she wrote this poem on the back of a small mirror:

To serve my Empress I burned incense to perfume my exquisite clothes.

Now as a homeless mendicant I burn my face to enter a Zen temple.

The four seasons flow naturally like this,

Who is this now in the midst of these changes?

She returned to Hakuo and gave him the poem. Hakuo immediately accepted her as a disciple. She became abbess of his temple when he died, and later founded her own temple. Before her death she wrote the following poem:

This is the sixty-sixth autumn I have seen.

The moon still lights my face.

Don’t ask me about the meaning of Zen teachings—

Just listen to what the pines and cedars say on a windless night.

This koan is about a lot of things, which is one of the beautiful things about koans. They often meet us in the stuff of our lives. They give us a nod, or a wink, or reach up and hold our hand and say me too. I see you.

In this story we can find themes of courage, vow, determination, sacrifice, injustice, impermanence and a deep reflection on what is truly reliable. And still, in this koan with so many words, much still isn’t said—or can’t be said.

Just listen to what the pines and cedars say on a windless night

As I reflect on Ryonen with that hot iron in hand, I know that she probably wasn’t thinking too much about what she was about to do and the impact that might have on her life into the future.

She picked up the iron and touched it to her face.

Done.

There are times in our spiritual lives or simply on this path of life, where we take that brave next step willing to face whatever consequences come from such action. This is very Aries.

Just Do.

Act first, think later.

Can you relate?

In my own life, I can feel Ryonen’s iron in my choice to become a monastic. At the time I was thinking about my finances or professional development, I wasn’t thinking about what futures I might be giving up—I just had this vow