Playing at Iccho-Ken, one of the only shakuhachi temples left in Japan.

Iccho-Ken is tucked away within the larger temple complex of Sofuku-ji, in Hakata, a city on the southern Island of Kyushu. The temple is a short walk from the main train station, which is the southern terminus of Japan’s famed Bullet train. The grounds of the temple boast koi filled ponds, turtles, small bridges, and many old temple buildings. Entering the space comes as a welcome relief from the typically frenetic pace found in the business centers of this typically Japanese city.

Shofukuji was constructed in 1195 by a monk named Eisai, shortly after he returned from China in order to introduce the Rinzai Zen sect to Japan. As a result, Shofukuji is considered Japan's first Zen temple. From the perspective of shakuhachi however, Iccho-ken holds a much more important place. It is one of only two or three temples remaining in Japan where Kumoso monks of the Fuke-shu would play shakuhachi as part of their spiritual practice. It is the temple from which a number of the pieces that I play and teach originally come, and it is also where the famous shakuhachi player Watazumido resided. For these reasons I felt compelled to go there.

After circling the grounds for a while, it became clear to me that I had no idea which of the many buildings in this complex might be Iccho-ken. Few had signs and those that did I couldn’t read anyway. After several inquiries, I did find it and was welcomed in by Mr. Iso Genmyo, the Abbot in charge. Genmyo Sensei is an affable, friendly man who appears to be in his fifties or early sixties. Juts below the surface of his generally serious demeanor, one senses a keen sense of humor and an obvious love for and deep understanding of shakuhachi tradition. He welcomed me into an anteroom and proceeded to make Matcha, frothing it up and serving it in large tea bowls in the traditional manner. After some light conversation, name dropping, shakuhachi study experience, etc, I presented him with several gifts I had brought along; one of my CDs, a box of Jacques Torres chocolate (not knowing if monks ate chocolate) and a donation to the temple equivalent to about $100. Following tea he welcomed me into the Hondo and I took a seat on a zabuton that had been set off to the side of the altar.
He called me up to honor the statues and other objects of worship, had me light some incense, and then ushered me to the zabuton and small table facing the altar. Putting my shakuhachi on the floor in front of me, we sat for fifteen minutes in silent meditation. Unable to empty my mind (which is the usual case) I became keenly aware of being a part of living history. How many times over the centuries had Komuso sat silently in this spot, then offering their shakuhachi sounds? The scent of incense that permeated the place surely had done so for a long time. I do not know much of Zen Buddhist practice, yet here I was at this moment participating in Zen practice and also in the history of Iccho-ken, about to play shakuhachi in this special place. I was also keenly aware of the many of the sounds of day-to-day life which entered into our “silent” meditation.

I began to play the piece I had prepared, IFU SASHI, a honkyoku attributed to Iccho-ken. Having not yet played that day, or the day before for that matter, it soon became to clear that this was not going to be my Grammy-winning performance. It also became clear how irrelevant this line of thinking was. All of the little sounds I heard during our silent meditation, now took on a prominent role as part of the experience. During the silences in the music, the Ma, again were heard the sounds of crows, footsteps, a couple arguing, a dog barking, … I began to play without listening to my sound, but rather to the other sounds around, and to the moments of silence. The musically dramatic phrases of IFU SASHI which I so enjoying playing, paled in comparison to the soft shuffle of footsteps. With these sounds now equal in power to those coming from my bamboo, the oneness of all sound became so obvious to me. I awoke from this breathing exercise with my shakuhachi to an understanding of the original intent of this marvelous practice.

After finishing I took a seat off to the side of the Hondo and Genmyo Sensei took center stage and played a version of Shirabe. His playing exhibited the emptiness and lack of Ego one would expect from a Zen monk, but rarely encounters in a shakuhachi player. It was a joy to again feel the oneness of the shakuhachi sound and the sounds of the modern world. After a final bow to the altar, we repaired to the anteroom for more tea and final conversation. Mr. Genmyo was not familiar with IFU SASHI but indicated that there were many Iccho-ken pieces he was unfamiliar with. After taking a few photographs, and a rather extended goodbye to my very gracious host, I left the temple grounds and reinserted myself into the fray of urban reality. I was famished and struck out in search of noodles and an opportunity to reflect on that afternoon’s experience.

So why did I travel all that way, plus spend all that money, energy and time to play shakuhachi in that place? Because it was there and I could? Was Iccho-ken some kind of a holy place that I needed to visit, and if so why? Since Iccho-ken is one of the only remaining original shakuhachi temples in Japan, did I think it would somehow change my life or my understanding of shakuhachi? Luckily I carried no preconceived ideas with me to the Hondo – simply a desire to go there be in that space. Sometimes it’s not why you do something, it’s simply that you do it. What I came away with was a profound understanding of the original intent of shakuhachi as Zen practice, and how inconsequential my sound is in the context of this practice. I came one step closer to understanding the universality of all sound and the sound of shakuhachi as merely a part of this much bigger experience.

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Shakuhachi residency in Durham, NC Public School.

Japan Foundation and Duke University partner to present
a unique public school shakuhachi teaching residency.

February 27 to March 2 saw a week long residency in four second grade classes and one third grade class in what may be the first elementary school residency for shakuhachi in the US. The residency was coordinated by Duke University's Asian and Pacific Studies Outreach Program and was funded with a grant from the Japan Foundation. The week's actiities included daily hands-on shakuhachi practice (the school purchased 25 plastic beginner instruments,) learning shakuhachi music notation, the history of the music and Zen Buddhist meditation, and strengthening basic music skills. In addition the kids learned about Japanese culture, studied a few written and spoken words, heard stories, and created dances to traditional music. The residency culminated with a public performance on Friday afternoon. Here are some photos.

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