The World of Lost Socks, Cats, and Faith
J.K. Hirano
Those with minds incapable of the constant practice of giving-
Those impoverished- I will save universally and relieve of all suffering;
I will benefit the world, bringing peace and happiness…
As the one supremely able, I will perform and fulfill all practices;
To those impoverished, I will be a hidden treasure store.
Carrying all good acts to perfect completion, I will be unrivaled;
Among the multitudes, I will preach with a lion’s roar.
Collected Works of Shinran: Chapter on Practice
You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension-a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. Welcome to the Twilight Zone.”
Introductory sequence to “Twilight Zone”; Rod Serling
As I have gotten older, it feels as though the veil between the world of the Twilight Zone and the world I live in has become very thin, at times transparent. I guess in some sense, our religious life can be said to live somewhere in between the two. As I get older, the world of imagination and the world of reality are interlapping. Almost like there is a world that has always been there, but I just haven’t noticed it. The reason I have been thinking about this is because of some socks I thought I had lost.
I stay at the Jodo Shinshu Center (JSC) in Berkeley about one week out of the month. I have my room, and a few clothes and toiletries stored there. It has a small kitchen and bathroom, with a bed, desk, etc. It isn’t a lot of space, but I must keep it somewhat uncluttered, unlike my rooms at home. There is also a washer and dryer that is available for anyone to use. Probably besides the bedding and towels, being washed, the only ones that use them are Bishop Harada and me. Our rooms are next to each other on the third floor.
Last week when I was there and as my habit, the night before I was to come back to Salt Lake, I went to the room with the washer and dryer to wash the clothes from the previous three days. Whenever possible, I don’t like having dirty clothes in my suitcase. I know sometimes it just can’t be helped but, if possible, I try to wash them before coming home. Rev. Harada had asked me if I had lost a sock since there was one sock in the dryer when he used it. He said he placed it near the dryer.
The washer and dryer are next to my room, on top of the stacked washer and dryer is a hamper. The sock Rev. Harada was talking about was next to the dryer, but it wasn’t mine. However, hanging from the edge of the hamper were two other socks. Not a matched pair but I noticed that one was a “Star Wars” sock. I have a lot of “Star Wars” socks, but I remembered that I was missing one sock from my collection at home. I looked at the socks and realized they were both mine. I hadn’t been to the center in three weeks, yet there were my socks hanging from this hamper. One was my black “Star Wars” sock and the other a black and blue Puma sock, both had been MIA. How did they get from my home to the center’s laundry room? I know the logical explanation is that I didn’t pick them out of the dryer when I was last at the center. However, my socks seem to regularly appear and disappear, at home or the center.
It has always been a curious phenomenon to me how socks disappear from the wash. They are a bit like cats. If you have owned a cat, you know they can seem to appear from nowhere and disappear suddenly. Cats usually don’t come when you call, so you must just appreciate them when they want to be appreciated. For example, there is a cat that I have been feeding and leaving out water for in my garage for several years. It (I don’t know the sex) has never let me even get close to it. It’s a somewhat fluffy black cat with white paws and a bit of white on the face. The sex of a cat is difficult to determine from a distance. Just as Bodhisattvas are said to be gender fluid and often very difficult to know what sex they may be. For example, Kannon, one of Amida Buddha’s attendant bodhisattvas along with Seishi, is sometimes depicted in feminine form and sometimes as a male. Maybe cats are bodhisattvas in disguise, making sure we are ok. Anyways, sometimes I see this cat sunning itself in my driveway. As soon as it sees me, it stares at me for a bit, then walks away into the trees. I see its paw marks on my car’s windshield and sometimes tufts of hair on the roof. I know it comes into the garage daily since I must fill its water and food bowls. However, I cannot get near to it. When I don’t see it for several days, I wonder and worry about where it could be. I think it must be in the hidden world of lost socks, cats, and faith.
At one of the seminars, I have recently moderated, there was a question concerning faith. To paraphrase the question, the woman asked, “Could I still consider myself to have shinjin, even though, there are days that I don’t feel grateful for my life?” She went on to explain that she feels that her depression is often the cause of this loss of faith and gratitude. When I heard this, I believed that she was thinking of faith, or shinjin, as a thing to possess. It is something that we “get” and since we got it, we can “lose it”. When I heard her, the first thing I thought was that I hoped she had spoken to a doctor about her depression and didn’t expect religion to “fix” her. This is a subject that has come up before. Mental illness, such as depression, is an illness that in many cases can be helped with medication. There is a stigma attached to mental illness but is no different than other illnesses. When I have a bad cold or flu, I don’t feel grateful for many things. Yet, in many instances, after I take my medication, I feel better. Mental illness is the same.
However, shinjin is not a thing we get. It is a broad life-affirming and changing experience. However, there are times, when it doesn’t feel so great. I remember when I was a student in Japan, I think it was then when I first thought I may have received shinjin. I asked my teacher Rev. Horin Yamamoto, “Sensei, Amida Buddha sometimes feels like a bully. The light of Amida which forces me to look at my true and real self makes me not like myself. Is that what shinjin does to you?” He laughed and said, “Of course, it works within you, to change your understanding of yourself, from the world of illusion to the world of reality.” Again, two worlds, right next and overlapping one another. Shinjin is not a thing to get or give, it is the heart of true Life, opening or blossoming within you to make you aware of your true and real life. It is a spectrum that works on you. Our faith in a simple sense. Although, there are times when our shinjin may feel as though it is far from us, in another World. Once received it is always with us. Shinjin is not a story from the Twilight Zone. It is not something we have made up to satiate our feelings of inadequacy. Shinjin is the essence of true and real life, encouraging us to wake up. In a world that is beginning to feel like the Twilight Zone, our faith, may sometimes seem to leave us, but the real shinjin we receive from Amida Buddha is always with us, anytime, anyplace, anywhere. The true essence of Namo Amida Butsu.