Ryokan, the hermit monk and poet and Zen Master, often treated as a wandering fool by villagers as he passed through one, was lonely all his life.
That didn’t preclude him becoming a Master of Buddhism and one of the most respected figures in the history of Japanese Zen. His calligraphic poetry is considered a national cultural treasure, and he was not a trained calligrapher. He spoke and wrote from a heart that was deeply entwined with his mind which he trained assiduously under all conditions.
Loneliness and vague longing were present in much of his writing. Yet, it was not despair. It was seeing clearly with a full heart. That is Compassion.
At a small gathering once, someone recited a poem for him.
It went like this:
“The breath goes out, the breath coming in
Over and then over again
Only leaves me to reflect
What a fleeting world this is.”
To which the Master replied:
“The breath going out, the breath coming in
Over and then over again
Know that this is itself the proof
That the world never ends.”
To be in the position of ease within is no small thing, and that was what informed Ryokans writing;
Yes, ease can hold the sorrows and
Rregrets of the world the way a
Blade of grass can hold a drop of
Dew long enough for it to fall from the
Blade, or dry in the sun. Sufficiency and
An adequacy that appears to be
Contentment, if anyone is
Looking and seeing
That, which Is.