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By Root 174 0

At any rate the perfected Master betrays his fearlessness at every turn, not in words, but in his whole demeanour: one has only to look at him to be profoundly affected by it. Unshakable fearlessness as such already amounts to mastery, which, in the nature of things, is realized only by the few. As proof of this I shall quote a passage from the Hagakure, which dates from about the middle of the seventeenth century:

“Yagyu Tajima-no-kami was a great swordsman and teacher in the art to the Shogun of the time, Tokugawa Iyemitsu. One of the personal guards of the Shogun one day came to Tajima-no-kami wishing to be trained in fencing. The master said: “As I observe, you seem to be a master of fencing yourself. Pray tell me to what school you belong, before we enter into the relationship of teacher and pupil.””

“The guardsman said, “I am ashamed to confess that I have never learned the art””.

“Are you trying to fool me? I am teacher to the honourable Shogun himself, and I know my judging eye never fails.”

“I am sorry to defy your honour, but I really know nothing.”

This resolute denial on the part of the visitor made the swordsmaster think for a while, and he finally said, “If you say so, it must be so; but still I am sure you are a master of something, though I do not know of what.”

“If you insist, I will tell you. There is one thing of which I can say I am complete master. When I was still a boy, the thought came upon me that as a Samurai I ought in no circumstances to be afraid of death, and I have grappled with the problem of death now for some years, and finally the problem of death ceased to worry me. May this be at what you hint?”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tajima-no-kami. “That is what I mean. I am glad that I made no mistake in my judgment. For the ultimate secrets of swordsmanship also lie in being released from the thought of death. I have trained ever so many hundreds of my pupils along this line, but so far none of them really deserve the final certificate for swordsmanship. You need no technical training, you are already a master.”

Since ancient times, the practice hall where the swordsman's art is learned has been called the “Place of Enlightenment”.

Every Master who practises an art moulded by Zen is like a flash of lightning from the cloud of all-encompassing Truth. This Truth is present in the free movement of his spirit, and he meets it again, in “It”, as his own original and nameless essence. He meets this essence over and over again as his own being's utmost possibilities, so that the Truth assumes for him— and for others through him—a thousand shapes and forms.

In spite of the unexampled discipline to which he has patiently and humbly subjected himself he is still a long way from being so permeated and irradiated by Zen that he is sustained by it in everything he does, so that his life knows only good hours. The supreme freedom has still not become a necessity for him.

If he is irresistibly driven towards this goal, he must set out on his way again, take the road to the artless art. He must dare to leap into the Origin, so as to live by the Truth and in the Truth, like one who has become one with it. He must become a pupil again, a beginner; conquer the last and steepest stretch of the way, undergo new transformations. If he survives its perils, then is his destiny fulfilled: face to face he beholds the unbroken Truth, the Truth beyond all truths, the formless Origin of origins, the Void which is the All, is absorbed into it and from it emerges reborn.

Table of Contents

Title Page

PREFACE

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