In October I’ll be going on my annual trip to Japan. My partner will be joining me, now that his work life is in the rearview mirror. I’m planning to introduce him to many adventures I’ve figured out over the past few years. Doubtless, we’ll also find new adventures.
At the beginning of our trip, we’ll exit Airport-World in Matsuyama on the island of Shikoku. It’s a lovely city, but it’s also a good starting point to hike sections of the Shikoku 88, a 750-mile pilgrimage of 88 temples. On previous trips, I’ve walked to and between 18 of the temples, but I have no plan to visit all 88; incompleteness is something I’m learning to embrace.
The Heart Sutra
During a brief visit to each temple, Shikoku 88 pilgrims chant the Heart Sutra.
After walking a few miles to quiet country Shikoku 88 temples, it’s relaxing, comforting, and perplexing to find a corner to sit and read the Heart Sutra. In the more isolated temples I might be the only traveler.
The translation of the Heart Sutra I’m using is just 264 words. I’ve found Red Pine’s translation and the chapters of explanatory text to be helpful. Reading the sutra is a good mental exercise, but I have no illusions I will reach a higher level of wisdom.
The Heart Sutra is Buddhism in a nutshell. It covers more of the Buddha’s teachings in a shorter span than any other scripture, and it does so without being superficial or commonplace.
The Heart Sutra, Red Pine
The words are exasperating, but trying to understand “emptiness” draws me in. I find it helpful not to over-think, and just let the words happen. Here, wisdom is more important than knowledge.
Some of the words are strange to me, and trip me up: sometimes a word is a person’s name, sometimes a word is a Buddhist concept that might take a lifetime to grasp. To ease my reading, I’ve added tooltips to provide some meaning for these unknowable (for me) words on their first occurrence. To view a tooltip, just tap a highlighted word, or hover the mouse over the word.
The noble Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva,
while practicing the deep practice of Prajnaparamita,
looked upon The Five Skandhas
and seeing they were empty of self-existence,
said, “Here, Shariputra,
form is emptiness, emptiness is form;
emptiness is not separate from form,
form is not separate from emptiness;
whatever is form is emptiness,
whatever is emptiness is form.
The same holds for sensation and perception,
memory and consciousness.
Here, Shariputra, all Dharmas are defined by emptiness
not birth or destruction, purity or defilement,
completeness or deficiency.
Therefore, Shariputra, in emptiness there is no form,
no sensation, no perception, no memory and no
consciousness;
no eye, no ear, no nose, no tongue, no body and no mind;
no shape, no sound, no smell, no taste, no feeling
and no thought;
no element of perception, from eye to conceptual
consciousness;
no causal link, from ignorance to old age and death,
and no end of causal link, from ignorance to old age and death;
no suffering, no source, no relief, no path;
no knowledge, no attainment and no non-attainment.
Therefore, Shariputra, without attainment,
bodhisattavas take refuge in Prajnaparamita
and live without walls of the mind.
Without walls of the mind and thus without fears,
they see through delusions and finally nirvana.
All buddhas past, present and future
also take refuge in Prajnaparamita
and realize unexcelled, perfect enlightenment.The Heart Sutra translated by Red Pine.
You should therefore know the great Mantra of Prajnaparamita,
the mantra of great magic,
the unexcelled mantra,
the mantra equal to the unequalled,
which heals all suffering and is true, not false,
the mantra in Prajnaparamita spoken thus:
‘Gate gate, paragate, parasangate, bodhi svaha.’”
I mainly based the tooltips on Red Pine’s explanations. I took the liberty of inserting some blank lines and centering the text.
Applying the Knowledge
A little bit of knowledge can go a long way. Reading the sutra and explanatory texts has given me glimpses into Japanese culture.
In his latest novel, Killing Commendatore, Japanese author Haruki Murakami writes about navigating the “interstice between presence and absence.” The main character faces that conundrum while painting a picture of a child while trying to transcend just a literal representation. The theme comes up again in scenes rife with magical realism when he must cross a river:
“I am here to ferry you across the river,” the faceless man said. “To help you navigate the interstice between presence and absence. After that, it’s up to you—my job is done.”
…
Once across the river, there is no turning back.
Red Pine describes the first stage of Buddhist attainment as becoming a srota-apanna, or one who “reaches the river,” the river of impermanence. He quotes an important 8th Century Confucian figure, Pao-t’ung:
The sutras say to cross a river we need a raft, but once we reach the other shore, we no longer need it. If a person resolves to find their true source and plumbs the depths of reason and nature, they will see their original face and instantly awaken to what is unborn. This is to reach the other shore. And once they are there, they are there forever. They don’t need to return again.
Clearly Murakami was influenced by Buddhist thought when he wrote his long novel. I’m reminded how something as simple as a raft and a river can be completely different beasts, depending on your vantage point. Such is the conundrum when I visit countries with very different cultures from my own.
