14 March 22 Death Poems - Zenko

Remembering Rev. Zenko N. Okimura Shihan

Today, I’m honoring my teacher of over twenty years, Zenko Okimura Shihan. He was Japanese, a Buddhist priest ordained in the Shingon Buddhist tradition, and a Samurai descendent. His training as a priest took place at the prestigious Mt. Koya Monastery in Wakayama Prefecture. Shihan is an honorific meaning Master Teacher or Teacher of Teachers. The designation is authorized only by the head of World Aikido (Doshu) in Tokyo. There are ten ranks in Aikido. Okimura was a seventh dan.

For the record, because I am one of Shihan’s chief instructors and hold a third degree black belt, I am addressed as Stenzel Sensei in Aikido circles.

Zenko Okimura Shihan is co-author with me of Tears for the Samurai, a book we’ve been writing for the past seven years, and which I will complete this year. Okimura Shihan has honored me with three black belts in Aikido and has shared Buddhist practice with me.

His cancer diagnosis was only four months ago. He died on 7 March 2022 at about 1 a.m. attended by a small circle of his students. 

Does the universe operate on cause-and-effect, on coincidence, or some of both, or something altogether outside our comprehension? Science has its principles, but also theorems. Religions have scriptures and rituals, but it is debatable whether any of them has the “Truth”.

The reason I bring this up is that largely unexplainable occurrences have arisen in recent months that all have to do with the number “7”. I will share examples. In November, I received a delayed birthday gift from two close friends who did not know that my teacher was gravely ill. The gift? A book. The title? Japanese Death Poems: Written by Zen Monks and Haiku Poets on the Verge of Death. 

Consider this. The occurrence of “sevens” slowly mounted. A few examples: He died on 7 March at 70 years old. He was a 7th degree black belt. There are 7 virtues in his samurai lineage moral code. Tears for the Samurai has three parts; each part has seven chapters.

He taught us a practice based on sevens – honor the dead by remembering him/her for 7 seconds for 7 minutes – every 7 minutes for an hour – 7 hours for a week . . . every 7 years. 

What is the significance of multiple occurrences of “7”? Does it mean Okimura Shihan is sending some sort of signal from beyond life? Could it be our need to find some coherence – even meaning – in his death? Is this causal? Coincidence? Both? Neither? It’s up to you to answer.

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How will I honor my teacher, my friend, my co-author, my spiritual compadre? With poetry, of course! 

By sharing a few jisei or辞世 in Japanese. Jisei is a death poem, a genre developed in East Asian cultures, most prominently in Japan. They are most often reflections on death – in general and concerning the imminent death of the author. This is often coupled with a meaningful observation on life. It was an ancient custom in Japan for literate persons to compose a jisei on their deathbed.

"Spring Moon at Ninomiya Beach" by Hasui Kawase

来時は空手、去時は赤脚。一去一来、単重交折

Raiji wa karate kyoji wa sekkyaku ikkyoichirai tanjuu sekkou

Empty-handed I entered the world

Barefoot I leave it.

My coming, my going —

Two simple happenings

That got entangled.

Zen monk Kozan Ichikyo (1283–1360)

from Japanese Death Poems, page 205.

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Although he did not compose any formal death poem on his deathbed, the last poem written by Bashō (1644–1694), recorded by his disciple Takarai Kikaku during his final illness, is generally accepted as his poem of farewell from his Account of Our Master Basho's Last Days:

旅に病んで

夢は枯れ野を

かけめぐる

Tabi ni yande

yume wa kareno o

kakemeguru

Falling ill on a journey

my dreams go wandering

over withered fields

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Despite the seriousness of the subject matter, some Japanese poets have employed levity or irony in their final compositions. The Zen monk Tokō (杜口; 1710–1795) commented on the pretentiousness of some jisei in his own death poem, also presented in Japanese Death Poems:

辞世とは

即ちまよひ

たゞ死なん

Jisei to wa

sunawachi mayoi

tada shinan

Death poems

are mere delusion —

death is death.

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This last poem from Japanese Death Poems by Moriya Sen'an (d. 1838) showed an expectation of an entertaining afterlife:

我死なば

酒屋の瓶の下にいけよ

もしや雫の

もりやせんなん

Ware shinaba

sakaya no kame no

shita ni ikeyo

moshi ya shizuku no

mori ya sen nan

Bury me when I die

beneath a wine barrel

in a tavern.

With luck

the cask will leak.

The final line, "hopefully the cask will leak" (mori ya sen nan), is a play on the poet's name, Moriya Sen'an.

Two Haiku Written Recently by Stenzel Sensei

桜が光る 

茶色の葉が再燃を隠す 

恋しいです... 恋しいです.......お嬢

Sakura ga hikaru

Chairo no ha ga sainen o kakusu

Koishīdesu... Koishīdesu....... O jō

cherry blossoms glow

brown leaves hide the rekindling

I’ll miss . . . I’ll miss . . .         . . . miss

自分を笑う

七十年の巡礼

筆を下ろします

Jibun o warau

shichi-jū nen no junrei

Fude o oroshimasu

I laugh at myself

Seventy years of pilgrimage

I put down my brush 

Background

Initially, the writing of a death poem was limited to Japanese society's literate class, ruling class, samurai, poets, and monks. It was introduced to Western audiences during World War II when Japanese soldiers, emboldened by their culture's samurai legacy, would write poems before suicidal missions or battles.

The practice of writing a death poem has its origins in Zen Buddhism which most Samurai practiced. It is a concept or worldview derived from the teaching that the material world is transient and impermanent (無常, mujō), that attachment to it causes suffering (苦, ku), and ultimately all reality is an emptiness of self-nature. (空, kū). 

From its inception, Buddhism has stressed the importance of death because awareness of death is what prompted the Buddha to perceive the ultimate futility of worldly concerns and pleasures. A death poem exemplifies both the "eternal loneliness" that is found at the heart of Zen and the search for a new viewpoint, a new way of looking at life and things generally, or a version of enlightenment. 

The poem's structure can be in one of many forms, including the two traditional forms in Japanese literature: kanshi or waka. Sometimes they are written in the three-line, seventeen-syllable haiku form 

Poetry has long been a core part of Japanese tradition. Death poems are typically graceful, natural, and emotionally neutral, in accordance with the teachings of Buddhism and Shinto. Excepting the earliest works of this tradition, it has been considered inappropriate to mention death explicitly; rather, metaphorical references such as sunsets, autumn or falling cherry blossoms suggesting the transience of life.

To my knowledge, Zenko Okimura did not compose a jisei, but then he was a man of many secrets which he claimed were not secrets at all but taught from the beginning.

Explorations: In the spirit of this post, readers are left to choose their own explorations concerning impermanence.