The profundity of this succinct text, essential to its longevity, can be gauged from the fact that it outlived its premier readership- the aristocratic Samurai warrior class in feudal Japan.

So what makes it relevant today? Takuan Soho renders crisp advisory guidance which emphasizes that contrary to popular religious thought (in the East at least), the human mind is not to be made static. Rather, it is to be unfettered of all coagulation. The mind must flow like water rather than statify.

William Scott has done an exceptional job in preserving both the brevity and essence of the original text while rendering it in lay English. A marvelous read indeed. ( )

from cover

In the life-and-death situation of being sword tip to sword tip with the enemy, where should the swordsman put his mind?

This is the first question posed in the first of these three essays written by a Zen master for the guidance of samurai swordsmen. Among the other questions that arise are the difference between the right mind and the confused mind, what makes life precious, the nature of right-mindedness, the Buddhist paradign of form and consciousness and what it is that distinguishes the True Mind. So succinct are the author's insights that these writings have outlasted the disolution of the samurai class to come down to the present and be read for guidance and inspiration by the captains of business and industry, as well as those devoted to the practice of the martial arts in their modern form.

The history of the sword in Japan goes back to antiquity. Zen and its meditative practices also have a long history, but it was not until the rule of the Tokugawa shoguns, beginning in the early 1600's, that the techniques of swordsmanship fused with the spirit of Zen. And if one man can be said to have been the prime mover in this phenomenon, it was none other than Takuan Soho, confidant and religious instructor to an emperor, to the legendary sword master Miyamoto Musashi and to the heads of the most important sword schools of the time.

The three essays presented here for the first time in complete, annotated literary translations are all well known, but two of them especially-Fudochishinmyoroku and Taiaki-are classics of Zen swordsmanship.

The author: Takuan Soho (1573-1645) was a prelate of the Rinzai Sect of Zen, well remembered for his strength of character and acerbic wit; and he was also gardener, poet, tea master, prolific author and a pivotal figuire in zen painting and calligraphy. His religious training began at the age of ten. He entered the Rinzai sect at the age of fourteen and was appointed abbot of the Daitokuji, a major Zen temple in Kyoto, at the age of thirty-five. After a disagreement on ecclesiastical appointments with the second Tokugawa shogun, he was banished in 1629 to a far northern province. Coming under a general amnesty on the death of the shogun, he returned to society three years later to be, among other things, a confidant of the third Tokugawa shogun.

The translator: William Scott Wilson took his B.A. at Dartmouth Colletge, graduated as a Japanese specialist form the Monterey Institute of Foreign Studies, and received his M.A. in Japanese literature from the University of Washington. He became acquainted with Japan at first-hand in 1966 on a coastal expedition-by kayak-form the western Japanese port of Sasebo to Tokyo. He later lived in the potters' village of Bizen, studied as a special student at Aichi Prefectural University, and was a counselor at the Japanese Consulate-General in Seattle. He now lives in his native Florida.

Among his highly regarded translations of original works of literature are Hagakure: The A Book of the Samurai and The Roots of Wisdom: Saikontan.

Contents

Foreword
Introduction
The Lusterious Record of Immovable Wisdom
The Clear Sound of Jewels
Annals of the Sword Taia
Notes
Bibliography

REVIEW from LibraryThing:
This book contains a collection of three letters/essays from Takuan Soho to masters of the sword arts. They contain some incredible gems. This book should not just be read; but reflected upon.As another reviewer said, "The ideas of the interval between striking flint and steel to the production of the spark, or the visual and mental image of the glint of light on the blade of a sword become captivating and even revelatory." I could not have said it any better myself.

It was alright but more repetitive and less insightful than other similar writings like Hagakure. ( )

The original author, the Zen monk Takuan Souhou from the era of the founding of the Shogunate at the end of the Warring States Period of Japan, addressed matters public and private, personal and formal, military and diplomatic, and others as well. He applied insight to these matters to advise swordmasters of his time -- particularly Yagyuu Munenori, swordsmanship instructor to more than one shogun. In at least one point, communicating with such a highly placed personage with the essays collected in this book, he actually scolded the man. A shogun spent years and great resources seeking his favor and friendship. This was a person of influence, despite humility of lifestyle and eccentricity of ideas.

Having not read this in full before, in any translation, I am not sure how much of its character is due to the original author or the translation. It gets overly wordy at times, and dwells on the prosaic and obvious when the subtle and profound lurk behind, as if he just doesn't get that people might miss important implications. Then again, maybe the culture of his time was influenced by bromides so pervasive that a simple restatement makes the metaphorical purpose obvious to his reader, or perhaps shared context allows him to make a joke of belaboring the blatantly superficial and expect his interlocutor to understand. Suffice to say that, if I wrote a similar tract for a general audience of warriors, I would likely have tried to lighten the verbosity load a bit and cut to the quick a bit more.

I wouldn't call this an introductory bit of philosophizing, practical or theoretical, in large part because of the above. Having gotten some real insights out of works like Stephen Mitchell's translation of the Tao Te Ching, though, should prepare one for getting past the packing material to the precious cargo inside this book. I enjoyed it, and the next time I read it I'll probably go through all the end notes, too -- because it's brief and interesting enough for a second reading. ( )