Santoka Taneda (Japan, 1882-1940, author, poet, Buddhist wandering monk) -
The first principle of a person who [expresses something in poetry], is that he absolutely must express that thing. In regard to poetry, I must absolutely manifest myself. This is precisely my task, and at the same time it is my prayer.
*Sumita Oyama. Life and Zen Haiku Poetry of Santoka Taneda: Japan's Beloved Modern Haiku Poet (Includes a Translation of Santoka's "Diary of the One-Grass Hut"). P. 196. Trans. with Intro. William Scott Wilson. Tuttle Publishing. Kindle Edition.
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The above statement is simple and full of profound insight. The word "absolutely" is key. Other similar terms from Zen Buddhism are "intimacy" and "wholeheartedly."
In Zen, being correct or getting something correct - or right - is not the priority. A poem could be correct and be lifeless, devoid of inspiration; a person could be "he's a good guy," and the guy be a breathing cadaver. Persons passionate about righteousness can be dangerous and often are. Persons passionate about getting it right or being in the right kill other people whom they decide do not get it right, who get it wrong, and, so, are wrong. Right, therefore, often pushes love to the side.
Persons passionate about righteousness killed Jesus, killed before, and keep killing: it has been going on all along the way. For these people, there must be an enemy to be gotten rid of, even if their god does in an afterlife. Religious, political, racial, ethnic, gender, sexual, nationalistic, class... righteousness - malevolent, heartless, cold as a block of dry ice, even when with a smile.
Yet, some of the beautiful people I have met would never claim to be righteous. Having read much from and about Santoka, he would be among them. He did not see himself as righteous. He often admitted such. Thankfully, he invites us to a space where we can just be ourselves, without thinking we are righteous. We do not even need to think we are unrighteous. We can live, knowing what we do is never right, but it is not, thereby, necessarily wrong, either.
Here, I write, right now, and now, and now. I am not getting it right. I am not getting it wrong. I am creating it, and it is creating me. This writer and this writing are becoming something together. Along the way, we are continually becoming something we were not before. After this writing, I will not be who I was when I began it. Yet, when did I or it begin? Does either it or I have an end? Possibly not. But now, I give myself totally to this writing, and it gives itself completely to me. Can you and I live that way? Yes. So, let us proceed to listen more to the poet's wisdom.
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Santoka invites us to see our actions as a means to offer ourselves intimately, wholeheartedly. When you act, you can fully manifest the doing in union with the result: they become one. This is sacramental, to use Christian wording; in Buddhism, it is enlightened action.
Yet, Santoka invites us to proceed further. Sacramentality involves not simply something we do, the doing manifests the whole self. The self is the action is one movement. You are in the act, the act in you. When you fold a piece of clothing, you can completely manifest that act, and you, thereby, absolutely manifest yourself.
And this is a wisdom in the Christian faith: "The Word became flesh and tented among us." Here, the complete Self-offering of the Word as flesh: Word (Intangible Wisdom) self-offering as a human being (tangible flesh).
Spirit becomes flesh, now, through your self-offering into your life and its varied actions. We see this enlightened action in a Santoka poem - again, simple and profound -
silently I put on today's straw sandals
Above, this giving of self through putting on his sandals, the poet refers to as "prayer." Yes, prayer. Prayer to something or someone. No. Just prayer. You can do a common task, like talking to a friend, writing an email, peeing, or walking your dog, and it be prayer. Then, like Santoka, it is your prayer, for your action was a total self-giving. You were intimate wholeheartedly with what you did.
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Mindfulness is a term I avoid. The term is misleading in English. Also, it is not what people make it out to be. Mindfulness appears to be the end-all for many people. One can be mindful all day and not get close to what Santoka is sharing with us.
I can sit mindfully with a friend and never bring the act to completion, never give myself totally, but I could still go away thinking, " I was totally present." Santoka and many others invite us to unite fully - yes, fully - with the act. We are not merely being mindful, we are giving ourselves. Our self-giving is not merely our presence, it is action. Presence is our presenting ourselves, our total being, moment to moment.
We are the offering! Without you entering the act, the act is not complete. That is intimacy... not merely being present, not simply being mindful, not only deep listening. Being totally present, then, means completely intimate.
Completely manifesting anything, including yourself, is the act of prayer. Yet, there is no need, unless one wishes, to think of it as prayer. In the act, there is no thought of prayer or any word to name the act. By living this way, one learns to live this way. Then, it is as natural as breathing, laughing, or crying, for it already is.
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One finds pleasure in this intimate way. Santoka says of his poetry, "The pleasure of the person who writes them is that of singing his own truth. What this means is that I want to take pleasure in that pleasure without shame." In intimate living, there is no room for shame about what you do, and the truth is your truth, for it expresses your unique way of being.
See, in writing, I write myself, and I am written. I take pleasure in the work when looking at it. I would, even if no one else ever cared for it. It is my truth, it is I, for I live in it, and it lives in me. How else could it ever be? How else could it walk and breathe? Sing to anyone's heart? Hold anyone's hand?
You do not even have to think of pleasing God. You enjoy expressing yourself via your actions. Your truthful activity brings you joy. You celebrate your creating and creations. That is enough. If you think, "I'm doing this to please God," well, you have moved away from the intimacy. Instead, you act for you are you, and within that you is the urge to manifest yourself in the flesh of daily life. You become you in the act, and the act becomes you.
The Word is still becoming flesh, for the Word is not trapped inside a space-and-time. The Word was becoming flesh long before Jesus was born. Enlightened action had been happening long before the Buddha. Jesus, Buddha, you... all present, now. So, enjoy living in Love, leaving no footprints as you walk down the road and no fingerprints when you touch clouds.
(C) brian k. wilcox, 2025
*Santoka poem, @ https://allpoetry.com/silently ; noted as used by author's permission.
