The world of dew
Is the world of dew.
And yet, and yet...
- Issa

This haunting poem was written by Kobayashi, Issa, the priest/poet of our Jodo Shinshu Buddhist tradition. He was married when he was close to fifty. He subsequently had several children who died before the age of one. When he lost his third child, his inexpressible sorrow and loss expressed itself in the above poem.

The world of dew, of course, is the metaphor for the fragile, transient, and impermanent nature of our human life. As a priest, Issa was aware of the universality and inevitability of death. But, when this reality struck his life for the third time and took his beloved child, the depth of his loss and pain expressed itself as "and yet, and yet..." Such feelings naturally are heightened in a person experiencing the loss and death of a loved one, especially when the loss is one's child.

Issa's poem struck me in the past and continues to mark my own thoughts and feelings each year as autumn begins to nip the morning air. My body seems to carry an internal clock that automatically triggers an indescribable sorrow and longing at this time of year. I am reminded again of the death of our daughter and youngest child on October 2, 1987. She was 18 and died from a scooter accident. Her death left an indelible mark in our family life. An inexpressible sense of grief and loneliness touched us all.

Even today, in unexpected moments, I call her name out of an unfathomable yearning to be with her - to see her, touch her, and hear her. These moments restore her presence momentarily and my sorrow is briefly assuaged. She is "alive" again in these moments. Yet, in this twenty-second year since her passing, Issa's words continue to express my sentiment and longing. The phrase, "And yet, and yet..." once again reveals how deeply I am attached to my daughter. Change is inevitable especially in death; still, it does not quiet nor lessen my unremitting desire for my daughter's presence.

To quietly embrace this movement of my heart annually as the fall season begins to emerge is to be reminded again of the brevity of life and the necessity of living mindfully in each given moment. The Buddha Sakyamuni remarked, "Of all meditations, the meditation on death is most supreme". The task is not easy or simple, but heightens the delicate balance of life-and-death in our everyday life. Death brings us closer to real life, the real life we live each moment. We need not fear death nor be repulsed by it. Rather, we need a dynamic awareness in our consciousness to embrace death to heighten our appreciation and awareness of the vitality and joy in each given moment. Real living, to me, rests on integrating life and death as a way of appreciating the wholeness of living itself.

The unremitting longing and desire for my daughter's presence also is a deep longing and desire to live each moment meaningfully with one's self and others with gratitude and appreciation. It is to discover the inexpressible connection that bonds all life as one. And, in this way, it is to return to the heart of Dharma - to immeasurable light (wisdom) and immeasurable life (compassion). For me, this is manifested in the saying of Namu-amida-butsu, which encircles the life-and-death of each and every being, and infuses each life with meaning and ultimate fulfillment. Namu-amida-butsu is the gift of the Buddha which transforms our desires and prayers to the vow (desire and prayer) of the Buddha for the bliss, happiness, and joy of all beings, including oneself.

The awareness of self and all its ramifications and attachments thus is to discover the heart of immeasurable light and immeasurable life that sustains our timeless journey into enlightenment - the Pure Land of Bliss and Happiness. The journey is expressed by Ryokan as,

Return to Amida,
Return to Amida,
Even as dewdrops fall.