The Dream of Zenran: A Buddhist Tale of the Transitory Nature of Existence

By Albert Shansky

Zenran, the buddhist monk, dreams he is reborn as another person. In his new life he meets eight beautiful women in different settings. Two become his wives and the others his concubines. Skilled in martial and literary arts he has many adventures and becomes an official in the imperial court. His dreams are so real it is difficult to tell which is truehis woken state or his dream state. While it is a Buddhist tale of the transitory nature of existence, it is also a sexual and romantic fantasy and a utopian desire for a place of peace.

Zenran, the buddhist monk, existentially sees the meaning of the world as a function of the consciousness of mankind. When in the dream state, Zenran lives in a utopian world, whereas when awake, he returns to the state of dread and ambiguity. In the end, Zenran finds the world absurd.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514404713

Albert Shansky

Albert Shansky studied philosophy and religion at Fairfield University, Fairfield, Connecticut. He received Shambhala training at the Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado, and studied Islam at the Hartford Seminary in Hartford, Connecticut. He has trained as a lay monk at the Hosshinji Monastery in Obama, Japan, and at Eiheiji Monastery in Fukui, Japan. He is a member of the International Association of Buddhist Studies, the American Academy of Religion, the American Philosophical Association, and the Society for the Advancement of American Philosophy. He is a fellow of the American Association for the Advancement of Science.

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Copyright © 2015 by Albert Shansky.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2015914596

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5144-0473-7

      Softcover      978-1-5144-0472-0

      eBook      978-1-5144-0471-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/04/2015

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Contents

Dedication

Introduction

BOOK ONE

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

BOOK TWO

9

10

BOOK THREE

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

BOOK FOUR

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

BOOK FIVE

28

29

30

31

32

33

Afterword

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my dear friend, Dr. Maurice Siegel.

In the last half-century, Maury had always brought forth the value of empathy, compassion, and humility in our relationship for which I am extremely grateful. The many hours we had together made us a part of a great felicity. In him I found the affection and warm friendship of a brother.

I, also, dedicate this book to my teacher, Prof. R. J. Long of Fairfield University who taught me the ways of philosophy from Plotinus to Maimonides.

In addition, I dedicate this book to my mentor Rev. Daigaku David Rumme of Hosshinji Monastery who guided me into Soto Zen Buddhism.

One of the characteristics of the dream is that nothing surprises us in it. With no regret, we agree to live in it with strangers, completely cut off from our habits and friends.

Jean Cocteau

Du reve, La Difficulte D’Etre (1947)

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

William Shakespeare

Prospero in the Tempest

Act IV, scene 1

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

CHARACTERS IN THE DREAM

Go-Fukahusa Tenno (Hisahito),

The 89th Emperor of Japan (1243<1247-59>1304)

Lady Nijo,

Imperial Concubine (1259) and woman of letters, author of a book of notes, the Towasugatari in 1313. She lived in Emperor Hisahito’s court. She was a member of the powerful Fujiwara family.

Nijo Tameuji,

Poet (1222-1286). One of the compilers of the Zoku shui-shu in 1278. He was Nijo Tameyo’s father.

General Kudo Suketsune,

Head of the army; Antagonist in the war with the Soga family

General Kujo Gembudo,

Replaced General Kudo after his death

Zenran,

A Buddhist monk (13th century); A son (1210-92) of the Buddhist priest Shinran. He was disinherited by his father for his heretical views of the teachings of the Jodo Shin-shu.

Mayumi and Mizuki,

Concubines who became wives of Zenran

Aimi, Kimi, Miki, Nanako, Saki, and Ayaka, Concubines of Zenran

Saki and Ayaka became lieutenants in the army

Horvath, Leader of the Mitzu People

Horvathson, son of Horvath

Agris, Bandore Leader

Jojo, A milkmaid married to Agris

Masami-san, The Buddhist Priest

CHARACTERS WHEN AWAKE

Kakushinni, sister of Zenran

Shinran, father of Zenran

Gogaku, head priest of Nishi Honganji

Enoki, head priest of Higashi Honganji

INTRODUCTION

This book is entirely fictitious and is a product of the imagination of the author. Broadly it deals with history, but in detail it is invented. The use of actual historic names of the protagonists and dates does not reflect real events, contingencies or state of affairs. Its characters, even those who use functions with actual precedent are imaginary. If scholars or historians are offended by this I extend my apologies. The use of ancient names and characters was done for an authentic appearance of the tale only.

The thirteenth-century spiritual impulse began during the Kamakura period (1185-1333). It has been described as the golden age of Japanese Buddhism. It was during this period that two Japanese schools of Pure Land Buddhism were founded: the Jodo-shu (Pure Land School) by Honen Shonin (1133-1212) and the Jodo Shin-shu (True Pure Land) by his disciple Shinran Shonin (1173-1263). Zen Buddhism also made its appearance in Japan at this time: The Rinzai School was introduced by Eisai (1141-1215) who built the first Zen temple in Japan in 1184 and the Soto school was founded by the great Zen Master Dogen (1200-53).

It was in this milieu that this tale evolves.

BOOK ONE

1

You don’t know me. I am a Buddhist monk. My name is Zenran. My father’s name is Shinran. He is the leader of the Jodo Shinshu Buddhist sect. He hates me. He has disinherited me and driven me out of his temple. I really don’t know why. All I tried to do is make certain changes in the Jodo Shinshu practice. I only wanted to make it more modern. That’s why I am here. I am seeking sanctuary in the palace of Emperor Hisahito. I have been here a week. I am certain my father will try to get me out of the palace. But I am waiting to see the Emperor and hope to solidify my need to stay in the palace permanently.

One day it happened – the Emperor asked to see me. I was shocked that it only took one week to see him. Usually it takes much longer. It is known that people have waited months before having an audience with Emperor Hisahito.

I was led into the court by a tall, bruiser-like individual. I say this because I am rather short. Being short made a lot of people sorry for me, and others despised me, and others thought they had to take care of me when I wanted it least, and others kidded me to make themselves feel bigger – and I knew all these things, and I knew they had an effect on me. These people put me on the defensive and made me try to show what I could do, on my own. But I wasn’t going to let anyone make me cocky. I wasn’t going to be a typical shorty – noisy and pushy, declaring myself all over the place.

With this in mind I was ushered into the Emperor’s throne room. I immediately bowed very low with palms together. I remained in this kowtow position until I heard the Emperor’s command in a loud booming voice, Rise and approach. I straightened up and approached the Emperor. He was seated on a platform bedecked with a silk, golden damask cloth made with flat patterns in a satin weave on a plain woven ground. He was wearing a long, blue robe with wide sleeves and a broad, white sash. He wore a black, silk covering on his head having a shaped crown and brimless. It was a distinctive head covering worn as a symbol of his position.

The Emperor beheld me, a Buddhist monk, standing before him and thought: His stature is as short as to seem stunted, head unusually large, bare-bald, narrow shoulders, low paunch, stiff thin legs like hoe handles. The awkwardness of this squat figure is offset by a round face of imposing radiance, intelligence, and serenity; right eyebrow much higher than left, consequent expression of perpetual surprise almost an expression of disdain; limpid, responsive dark brown eyes; long straight nose; narrow but full, sensitive, and sensuous mouth; small wen on lower left chin.

He looked at me with penetrating eyes, Who are you? Why are you here? I looked downward from his stare and said, My name is Zenran, Lord, I am here to seek rescue from the harm my father would place on me, I shuddered in fright.

Why would he harm you? Have you committed something sinful?

No, Lord, I merely tried to make changes in the Jodo Shinshu practice.

I see. He hesitated and then continued forcefully, No one is allowed in my court if they cannot make a contribution.

I would be happy to try, Lord, tell me how I can contribute.

Are you a sage or a savant?

What do you mean, Lord?

I mean, can you foretell the future?

Do you mean, can I predict future events?

Yes, something like that.

I don’t know, Lord, I am a simple monk. I do not know the ways of the world.

Well then let me tell you what the problem is. Japan’s political situation is unstable and characterized by internal struggles for supremacy between religious sects, daimyo, and those vying for land grants. This is leaving the country in disorder. Many warriors are fighting each other for territory. I am afraid this may lead to all-out war. That’s why I am asking you for advice

I was dismayed for a moment but quickly thought of a simple answer, Lord, you should reinforce your army and build large fortresses. Also, show your power by making ostentatious displays of your wealth.

The Emperor was taken aback and said nothing for a while. Then he looked up as if to see something written on the ceiling. Suddenly, with a loud shout he laughed shaking his body, Ha, ha, yes indeed, that’s the way, ha, ha. He turned to look at me directly, You have the right answer. What is your name?

My name is Zenran, Lord.

Well then, Zenran, you have given me sound, wise advice. I am grateful to you. You may remain in my palace and moreover you are to be the court prophet.

I was dumbstruck. How does one act as a court prophet? What does one do?

The Emperor continued, I will assign the court poet, Nijo Temeuji, to care for your needs.

Thank you, Lord, I hope to be worthy of such a daunting assignment.

Then seemingly out of nowhere a tall, young man appeared. Yes, he was taller than me. He was wearing a black kimono with his family crest on the breast. His face was smooth with a light skin color and red lips. His brown eyes kept darting back and forth as if he was wary of something. He bowed with palms together, My name is Nijo. I shall mentor your needs. Please allow me to show you to your quarters.

I returned the bow and expressed my thanks. We walked off together in a shuffling gait as I followed him to my room. It was a rather dark, windowless abode lit only by an oil lamp. It contained a futon and a low writing desk. There was a closet in one corner otherwise spare of any other furniture.

Nijo waved his right arm in a wide circular fashion saying, This is where you shall live for the time being. The Emperor has given you a gift for your sagacious advice in the hope she will make you comfortable. She will arrive momentarily. I shall leave you now. If you have any needs please call on me. I didn’t completely understand his banter but I fell on my knees thinking of nothing but my predicament.

After a short while, I heard a low cough outside the shoji door. At first I paid no attention to it but then the cough became insistent so I arose and slid open the door. Even in the reduced light I was amazed to find a most beautiful women kneeling. She got up gently and bowed low whispering in a sibilant tone, My name is Mayumi, Lord, I am here to serve you.

That was how I first saw her. She had paused for a moment looking around until, our eyes met. She was squinting, letting her eyes get used to the half-light at my end of the room. She was blessedly short, shorter than I. Yet she was slender, fine-boned, and her neck was a stem, and she held herself as if she were tall, like some delicate weed grown fast in a summertime field.

She was wearing a navy-blue kimono trimmed with a narrow standing edge of white pique around her fragile neck and she stood with one arm hugging her waist as if to hold up the obi and began to survey herself, looking down at her arm; then her glance ran up over her shoulder and across her bosom. Her skin glowed. She was openly happy at what she saw of herself. I didn’t dare look at her too steadily, for fear of disturbing this ideal picture.

Every ten seconds I looked up and saw her move towards me. The way she walked took my breath away. There was straightness about her, not of a small person trying to be big, but of someone serene. I admired her catlike control, tense-relaxed, in balance like a spring and she had an odd way of setting her feet down pigeon-toed, toe first and then heel, it seemed like a Chinese dancer, but not affected, simply answering the demands of a certain kind of pelvis – a provocative walk. Her head turning with hooded eyes that seemed not to look at, but certainly saw me. There was a distinct change of expression on her face, for the better, and she said, with a simple directness, Yes, my Lord, here I am. I, in the meanwhile, suffered a most extraordinary shyness, hardly daring to look at her. My heart was racing and tipping. It seemed that each time I raised my glance to her face; her gaze was fastened to mine.

Mayumi was extremely calm. She looked at me and filled me with it. We sat on the futon, whose pale gray color like stone seemed alive in the moving dappled shadows. I leaned close to Mayumi and saw the delicate down on her cheek and the sweep of shining black hair back over her ear. She was leaning back on her elbows, and I saw her breast pressing the soft cloth of her kimono and in a moment of wanting to touch her, with my life force stirring and swelling, I had very strongly a curious yearning – for idealism. My physical want soon drowned that out, but I remembered it. Then that yearning, which was a kind of dissatisfaction, passed, and I wanted to be totally with Mayumi, I wanted to hold her – she had a way of turning her head on the pillow, looking at me during the rapid movement of sexual intercourse.

While still struck by the beauty of what I saw, I felt my heart begin to hurry. Mayumi stirred, turned toward me, so the far breast rose and moved and the near one leaned my way. I wanted her again; my heart was pounding. Slowly I turned my head and looked at Mayumi. I saw a disturbing sight: the brown pupils of her eyes completely surrounded by porcelain laced with lightening-shaped veins. Was she expressing vain regrets over what cannot be undone? Yet she did not shed tears,

What is the matter Mayumi? Didn’t you enjoy it?

Yes, I enjoyed it.

Well then what is the matter?

It was my first time.

You mean you are a virgin?

Yes, I was, but not anymore.

Why then why did you come to me?

The Emperor said if I please you we could marry.

I had no way of answering her. I was speechless and befuddled. I only knew one thing – Mayumi was really mine. When we had first approached each other previously it had been with a deep shyness yet an overpowering yearning. What ensued seemed our first touching and joining, for this time Mayumi truly gave herself to me, and I found that I had not been mistaken: deep in her there were surprises, storms of feeling, extraordinary