The rest of this chapter is concerned with the stories of two nuns who followed the Path in notably different, but (for me at least) deeply inspirational ways. Both women followed paths that presented themselves almost entirely because of their situations as female practitioners, weaving stories that are just as much Zen as any ancient Koan, but with their unique circumstances as background.
Eunyeong Sunim spent her life from childhood trying to keep the temple of her teacher, Pomunsa, from succumbing to the Japanese occupation. From begging to fundraising, she continually doubled down against the abuse and punishments of the officials, filing multiple lawsuits and establishing an independent Korean nuns order to escape from the governance of monks. Her struggle was personally painful and difficult. Eventually when the occupation ended, although the nuns had been instrumental in maintaining Korean monastic standards including celibacy, they were not given any of the head monasteries. Eventually Eunyeong died of poisoning, although whether it was suicide or not was never determined.
Otagaki Rengetsu lost children, husbands and home in her early life. She was an enormously prolific artist who expressed her Zen practice in her art in a manner that I found deeply resonates with me perhaps more than any of the nuns we have learned about so far. Schireson states: “Rather than claim, as a Zen master might, that she had severed all attachments through committed Zen practice, she exposed her longing with a Zen voice… Rengetsu’s way—giving away her teaching without collecting and labeling it as Buddhadharma—seems to be the way that Zen women have offered themselves—with little recognition of a collected work.”
In the world of Zen, do you agree that it can be a teaching to express and admit feelings of sadness, tenderness and pain, where it might be viewed by some practitioners as lacking in equanimity?
Gassho,
Jakuden
SatToday
Eunyeong Sunim spent her life from childhood trying to keep the temple of her teacher, Pomunsa, from succumbing to the Japanese occupation. From begging to fundraising, she continually doubled down against the abuse and punishments of the officials, filing multiple lawsuits and establishing an independent Korean nuns order to escape from the governance of monks. Her struggle was personally painful and difficult. Eventually when the occupation ended, although the nuns had been instrumental in maintaining Korean monastic standards including celibacy, they were not given any of the head monasteries. Eventually Eunyeong died of poisoning, although whether it was suicide or not was never determined.
Otagaki Rengetsu lost children, husbands and home in her early life. She was an enormously prolific artist who expressed her Zen practice in her art in a manner that I found deeply resonates with me perhaps more than any of the nuns we have learned about so far. Schireson states: “Rather than claim, as a Zen master might, that she had severed all attachments through committed Zen practice, she exposed her longing with a Zen voice… Rengetsu’s way—giving away her teaching without collecting and labeling it as Buddhadharma—seems to be the way that Zen women have offered themselves—with little recognition of a collected work.”
In the world of Zen, do you agree that it can be a teaching to express and admit feelings of sadness, tenderness and pain, where it might be viewed by some practitioners as lacking in equanimity?
Gassho,
Jakuden
SatToday
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