Finding the Dharma: Lighting a Stove, Lighting a Corner
- Eiten
- 3 days ago
- 8 min read
Thursday, June 27, 2024, was the day that my life changed. It was the day that I graduated from the intensive esoteric Buddhist training at Enryaku-ji Temple on top of Mt. Hiei in the northeastern corner of Kyoto. I was officially ordained as a Tendai Buddhist monk, and sent back into the world to spread the Dharma.
The graduation ceremony ended just before 11 a.m. After that my classmates and I had just thirty minutes to clear our belongings from our tatami-mat rooms and assemble in front of the main gate. As we scurried out of the dormitory, the teachers remonstrated us for not being mindful of the time and moving without vigor. A fitting farewell and a reminder that each precious moment of human life is a gift, not a guarantee. Not to be taken lightly or for granted.
All of the newly ordained monks were locals, and they were met by either their parents or teachers who were waiting eagerly to bring them home. Except for me. I had flown halfway around the world to get there. I was the solitary gaijin—the Japanese word for foreigner. Luckily for me one of the teachers was kind enough to offer me a ride down the mountain. With my heavy load of ritual texts—riddled with my shorthand attempts to capture centuries of knowledge that every word and motion of our teachers conveyed; incense-laced robes; and myriad other items, I gratefully accepted without hesitation.
Halfway down the mountain, on the way to my hotel in Central Kyoto, the teacher glanced in the rearview mirror and asked me a question that would ultimately serve as the catalyst for this website:
“How are you going to share what you’ve learned here with others?”
I froze. I couldn't answer. But I needed to. Several times during training it was made clear that the becoming a monk wasn't to be taken lightly. Once people knew, they would look to us for answers. The weight of that realization landed on me for the first time when I was faced with that question.
The Chef Aspirant: In Search of Truth
For the remainder of the ride, I sat silent. Reflecting. As I did I recalled how from a young age, I have been drawn to spirituality and the question of the meaning of life. My mind then wandered onto a specific memory from my college years. It was quite relevant, though it seemed random to me at the time. I remembered a trip to Trident Booksellers & Cafe on Newbury Street in Boston, where I discovered a used copy of Tenzo Kyokun, "Instructions to the Chef" by Master Dōgen. He was the 13th century Japanese Buddhist monk who famously brought Chan (Zen) Buddhism from China to Japan, and ultimately the world.
The book had resonated with me from the get go. The subject matter was right up my alley, and the context within which Master Dōgen presented it was immediately accessible. I had just started my career as a chef. There was no place that I understood better than the kitchen.
Then my thoughts fast forwarded two decades to 2018. I was working on the Big Island of Hawaii at a major resort as Executive Sous Chef. I was well advanced in my understanding of the mysteries of the kitchen, but still lacking in regard to the mysteries of life.
Something in the natural environment brought my innate spiritual curiosity back to the forefront of my mind, I recalled. The scale and beauty of nature in Hawaii give you immediate perspective on many things. One is the undeniable fact that you are a part of something much greater. My intuition began speaking loudly. It was time to commit to a path. It was time to find a teacher. So I did.
I remembered sending countless emails, but only received one reply. It was from Ryoei Sensei, who would later become my teacher. Our first meeting set everything quickly in motion. She wasted no time in sorting out who I was, what I was seeking, and whether I was actually committed to pursuing my studies in earnest or not.
Ryoei Sensei, a Tendai Ajari, or Master of the Way, had been sent to Mount Hiei by her teacher, Ryokan Ara Sensei, to undertake the esoteric mikkyō training that is required to become an ordained monk in the Tendai lineage. So it came as no surprise when she told me that on of the conditions of becoming her student was undergoing that same training at Enryaku-ji Gyōin.
That is how I—a professional chef with spiritual inclinations—found myself in the back seat of this car being driven down the very mountain where Master Dōgen himself reached enlightenment. Though he would later found the Sōtō Zen, he started out as a Tendai monk: the lineage that I had just officially become a part of.
As my mind came back around to the present moment, it landed on the idea that there were parallels in our journeys, with one glaring exception: I had still not answered the question of how I would share what I had learned with the world, whereas Dōgen clearly had. I had a lot of work ahead of me.
Being of Service
In 788 C.E., Saichō left his home in Sakamoto at the base of Mount Hiei, and trekked up the mountain to establish the original temple that would evolve into Enryaku-ji. One of the stories that stuck in my head was about how he hand carved the original honzon (本尊), which was Yakushi Nyorai—the Medicine Buddha. He lit an oil lamp and set it in front of the statue that has burning for over 1,200 years since.
What was interesting to me when I learned about the carving was that unlike most depictions of the Medicine Buddha, Saichō's was standing, not seated. I thought that there must be an intentional symbolism behind this decision, but I wasn't sure what it was. It wouldn't become clear to me until I got to the Mountain myself and learned about the idea of ichigu-wo terasu.
Ichigu-wo terasu (一隅を照らす), "lighting a corner," has been a major outreach initiative of modern Tendai since 1969, but its origins extend all the way back to the founding of the temple. This concept was first introduced by Saichō in Sange-gakushō-shiki (山家学生式), also known as Rokujō-shiki, in the following passage:
"What is the treasure of a nation? The treasure is a strong will to achieve enlightenment. Thus those who have this religious nature are the true treasure of a nation. A wise man of olden times said that ten large pearls are not the treasure of a nation, but he who lights up a corner of a nation is the true treasure of a nation."
The training that aspirant monks undergo on the mountain was originally a twelve year program. Beginning in Saichō's time, monks were required to commit to living at Enryaku-ji for the entire period, and were not allowed to leave until the twelve years were up. At that point, most of them were expected to leave the mountain to live in the provinces amongst the people and "light up a corner of the nation."
The training had been truncated to say the least, but the purpose and intention was the same: to commit to the enlightenment of all, and go back into the world to work towards that end.
Reflecting upon that after I had returned from my training, I realized that the answer to the teacher's question, “How are you going to share what you’ve learned here with others?," had been right in front of me all along. Master Dōgen's writing and Saichō's carving of a standing (i.e. actively engaged) Medicine Buddha were my answer: cooking. Struck by that realization, the pieces started to fall into place.
Purpose & Perspective
My work career as a chef is my path, my vehicle. It is the service industry after all. The idea of putting the needs of others ahead of your own, which is on of the Three Pure Precepts of Mahayana Buddhism (Shō-shujō-kai 摂衆生戒) is already baked in.
What had kept me from seeing the obvious was a total misunderstanding of my situation. I was framing it as if I were at an intersection of two roads faced with a choice between being a monk or a chef. The reality was actually more like accelerating up an onramp and onto the freeway. The destination was already set, I just had to merge, pick a lane, and go.
This change in perspective gave me a new sense of purpose. Rather than choosing between the two, being a monk that is a chef perfectly aligned with the training I had received, and the "destination" of the Bodhisattva path: to be of service to others. To help people find happiness in the midst of a world that often offered anything but. To help them find peace through the wisdom of enlightenment.
Finding Common Ground
In a world that seems to be fueled by division and a relentless desire to amplify differences, it is more imperative than ever to look for what we have in common with one another. The basic human need for food is one place to start. We may eat different things, but we all eat.
The basic human need for food is the language that I intend to use to be of service. There is a lot that I believe can be achieved with it. Using it to share my unique perspective here on this website, I believe can reveal how the ordinary acts of daily life if performed mindfully—such as preparing a meal for others—are nothing short of extraordinary. Every one an opportunity to experience true happiness and practice compassion.
For those in need of a drastic dietary shift to turn around their health and live a more engaged and active life, I hope to help them see a clear and sustainable path forward. For others that feel a disconnect between the values in their hearts and their actions in the world, I hope to help them find alignment. And for others still who simply want to live more mindfully and demonstrate compassion for themselves, other beings, and the world that we all share, I hope to help them understand some of what I came to learn throughout my training.
Light a Corner
You don't need to climb a mountain to find your purpose, experience happiness, or express compassion. You already have everything that you need. You just need to ask yourself how you will do it? Chances are you are already doing something, just as I was, that a simple shift in intention can transform into your practice:
preparing food for others, either at home or at a food bank or similar community oriented service
tending a community garden
volunteering at a local animal shelter
talking to the person next to you while you are waiting in line at the store or commuting to work
The point is to look at what you are already doing right where you are and light up your corner. There are opportunities that surround you if you just look for them.
I am a registered monk on Mount Hiei, but my work isn't done in a meditation hall secluded from the world. My work is done at a cutting board and on a computer, feeding both physical and spiritual needs. I didn't abandon the chef for the monk or vice versa, I integrated the two and found a way that they both could serve the other.
That is how I came to write create this blog, write this post, and hopefully inspire you with my thoughts, words, and actions to see that you can do the same. How will you do it?
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