
Summary
The talk centers on Zen practice as a way of cultivating what is repeatedly called “big mind” or “great mind,” in contrast to “small mind.” The speaker argues that the essential point of practice is to act from a broad, inclusive awareness rather than from self-centered, narrow, or possessive thinking. In this framing, big mind is not a special mystical state to be grasped, but the ordinary and mature way of engaging reality when one is no longer driven by egoic attachment. A major theme is the role of Zen centers, monasteries, and organized practice communities such as Tassajara and the Zen center founded by Keiichi Eisho. The speaker explains that such institutions exist not as ends in themselves, but as temporary supports for practice and for helping people. The famous saying attributed to Keiichi Eisho, “If you pick up one dust, the nation will become prosperous,” is interpreted as a metaphor for taking action, starting a group, or establishing a practice community. Yet the speaker immediately complicates this by noting that any act of “picking up one dust” also brings consequences, including trouble, conflict, and unintended effects. In other words, to do something meaningful is to enter the world of cause and effect, where good and bad outcomes arise together. This leads into a broader discussion of Buddhism’s purpose. The speaker insists that Buddhism is not ultimately about preserving Buddhism, building institutions, or creating attachment to Zen centers. Rather, its purpose is to help people find their own path so that, eventually, they no longer need Buddhism, teachers, or formal structures. The ideal human life is one in which people can follow the right way naturally, without dependence on external supports. In this sense, the teaching is provisional: it exists because people are lost, not because Buddhism itself is the final goal. The talk also emphasizes the distinction between practice done with big mind and practice done with small mind. When action is guided by big mind, one does what is necessary without clinging to results, praise, or identity. When action is guided by small mind, it becomes deluded, self-protective, and ultimately “demonic” in the speaker’s language. The speaker warns against becoming proud of one’s practice, one’s intelligence, or one’s role in the Zen center, since such pride is another form of attachment. True practice requires readiness to let go, even to “resign from the Zen center” when the time comes, because the center itself is only a tool. Another important thread is the idea of genjokoan, or the “actual koan” of everyday life. The speaker presents daily life itself as the great koan: a living field in which one must act, accept consequences, and remain present. This includes difficult ethical realities, such as eating living beings or participating in ordinary life where harm is unavoidable. The point is not purity in a narrow sense, but the willingness to act from big mind and accept the full complexity of existence. Dogen Zenji is invoked as the figure who articulated this great koan of reality, where every action on the “stage” of life has meaning when seen from the standpoint of awakened practice. The speaker concludes by stressing sincerity, constancy, and steady effort. Practice should not be judged by whether it feels good or bad, but by whether it is sincere and supported by deep mind. A person who practices in this way develops a calm, steady mind rather than being tossed between ecstasy and discouragement. This constancy is presented as the path to freedom, youthfulness, and genuine happiness. The final message is that one should not seek a false idea of freedom or nature, but should realize true nature through disciplined practice, responsibility, and the willingness to act without attachment to self.
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