My Heart Sutra: A World in 260 Characters

OTHER BOOKS BY FREDERIK L. SCHODT

ORIGINAL WORKS

Manga! Manga! The World of Japanese Comics

Inside the Robot Kingdom: Japan, Mechatronics, and the Coming Robotopia

America and the Four Japans: Friend, Foe, Model, Mirror

Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga

Native American in the Land of the Shogun: Ranald MacDonald

and the Opening of Japan

The Astro Boy Essays: Osamu Tezuka, Mighty Atom, and the Manga/Anime Revolution

Professor Risley and the Imperial Japanese Troupe: How an American Acrobat Introduced Circus to Japan—and Japan to the West

SELECT TRANSLATIONS

Mobile Suit Gundam: Awakening, Escalation, Confrontation, by Yoshiyuki Tomino

Gaku Stories, by Makoto Shiina (U.S. title: My Boy: A Father’s Memories)

Jack and Betty Stories, by Yoshinori Shimizu

The Four Immigrants Manga: A Japanese Experience in San Francisco, 1904–1924, by Henry Yoshitaka Kiyama

Starting Point: 1979–1996, by Hayao Miyazaki (translated with Beth Cary)

Turning Point: 1997–2002, by Hayao Miyazaki (translated with Beth Cary)

The Osamu Tezuka Story: A Life in Manga and Anime, by Toshio Ban and Tezuka Productions

Published by

Stone Bridge Press

P. O. Box 8208, Berkeley, CA 94707

TEL 510-524-8732 • [email protected] • www.stonebridge.com

© 2020 Frederik L. Schodt.

All photographs © 2020 Frederik L. Schodt unless otherwise noted.

Front cover design by Linda Ronan.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1    2023 2022 2021 2020

p-ISBN 978-1-61172-062-4

e-ISBN 978-1-61172-944-3

This book is dedicated

to little Mason and Jacob, who kept supplying smiles and laughter, and often asked me to

"do that shiki-shiki chant thing."

Contents

FOREWORD

1 My Mantra

2 How I Met the Mantra

3 Seeking Context

4 Xuanzang

5 Monkey

6 An American Thesis

7 Heart Sutra Land

8 The Metaphysical Can Opener

9 New Life in a New World

AFTERWORD

ENDNOTES

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX

Foreword

This is a book of essays about the Heart Sutra, or the Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom Sutra, also known in Sanskrit as the Prajñāpāramitā Hṛdaya Sūtra. It is one of the shortest Buddhist texts and one of most popular in East Asia (and increasingly the world), chanted, copied, and contemplated by millions. It can be described in many ways—puzzling, profound, convoluted, crazy, radical, revolutionary, mysterious, magical, a gateway to Mahayana Buddhism, and an entirely new way of viewing the universe. With phrases such as form is not different from emptiness and no form, no sensation, no perception, no formation, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind …, much of it at first seems a tangled mass of negatives and double negatives, all of which could be read as a long disclaimer before the great reveal of a mantra at the end.

In the same spirit, I feel obliged to give readers a few disclaimers, about what this book is, and is not.

• This book is, in a sense, an inversion of the hundreds of existing books about the Heart Sutra, for I do not personally try to explain the sutra’s true meaning to readers. The reason? It would be presumptuous of me, because I see studying and trying to understand it as my own daily, if not lifelong task. There are many fine books in English by courageous experts who concentrate on explanations, including those by D. T. Suzuki and Edward Conze and, more recently, by Red Pine, the 14th Dalai Lama, Donald S. Lopez Jr., Thich Nhat Hanh, and Kazuaki Tanahashi, to name only a few. As the title of my book hints, this is about my Heart Sutra and my fascination with it and how it is used.

• Unlike most authors on the Heart Sutra, I am not connected to a religion or a religious sect, and I am not an academic. I began this book with purely personal motives, not even sure it would yield anything worth publishing, for to me it was a challenge—a way to sort my own thoughts and experiences and satisfy my own curiosity. I have had an abiding obsession with the sutra and wanted to learn why, so at times it is also an archaeology of my own memory. And I wanted to look at the Heart Sutra as an unusual social and religious phenomenon. In the process, something designed to be short became longer. But like the Heart Sutra itself, it is still relatively succinct.

• Unlike many writers on the Heart Sutra, who often provide their own brand-new translations, in this book I do not. Instead, I encourage readers to find translations they like among the fine ones that already exist. For reference I have included a copy of Xuanzang’s Chinese version, along with a traditional Sōtō Zen English version, and a translation from the Centre of Buddhist Studies at the University of Hong Kong. Some readers may nonetheless wonder why I pay so much attention in this book to language, to the way it is used, and to translation in general. The short answer is that I have a long career in interpreting and translating and an abiding interest in cross-cultural communications, which the Heart Sutra also symbolizes.

• There is little discussion in this book about Tibet or Korea or Vietnam or Mongolia or other countries where the Heart Sutra is also used. Instead, I have concentrated mainly on Greater China and Japan, or what might be called the Sino-Japanese character zone. Some readers may wonder why, and it is because an orthographically identical version of the sutra has been in use in this region for at least 1,400 years. It is the translation attributed to the Chinese monk Xuanzang, arguably the master version, and nearly all other language translations, including those in English, stem from it. Another reason is that I have some language skills that help in this area, especially Japanese. In both Korea and Vietnam, traditional ideograms have unfortunately (in my opinion) fallen out of use among the general public, often by government fiat that cuts people off from their own cultural roots. But even more to the point, I have no expertise in classical Sanskrit, Tibetan, Korean, Mongolian, or Vietnamese, and I shall not pretend otherwise.

This leaves lots of room for criticism, which is always welcome, but I hope that some readers will enjoy taking this journey with me, as I zig and zag like a butterfly through sometimes strange territories and subjects on a quirky quest, alighting here and there to listen to what others have to say, and to observe more closely. In the process, who knows? Together, we might discover something new and interesting, as well as useful, even taste some nectar!

Before jumping in, some minor housekeeping is in order. Rendering Asian names in English often makes authors want to tear their hair out in frustration (at least what little is left after writing books). The first problem with Chinese and Japanese names is their order. In this case, I have tried to maintain native Chinese/Japanese order of last name first, first name last, making an exception for people who have established themselves in the West. For example, for the calligrapher-author Kazuaki Tanahashi, who lives in Berkeley, California, and goes by Kaz, I use American name order because that is what he uses.

Romanizing Chinese names also runs into the problem of different systems used in different eras. For example, most books written about China in the twentieth century used a system called Wade-Giles. Now, most use the pinyin system. Thus, the name of the most famous Heart Sutra translator/compiler/popularizer was once usually known as Hsüan-tsang. Today he is known in pinyin as Xuanzang. When quoting older English-language texts, I have kept the Wade-Giles renderings used by the original authors, but for newer texts I have used renderings in pinyin, if that is what the authors used. Turning everything into a knotted mass of complications is the fact that many Chinese people have more than one name, and many overseas or Hong Kong Chinese have used Wade-Giles or other systems of romanization for their names for generations, so it would not be proper to change them to pinyin. I hope readers will understand and show the author some mercy.

Finally, foreign words and names that have sunk deep into the English language need no diacritical marks or macrons, so I have left them as is. Sūtra, therefore, is written as sutra, unless I am quoting someone else’s usage. Kyōto is Kyoto. Tōkyō is Tokyo. And for Chinese, I have followed the Chicago Manual of Style recommendation and left off tonal marks for modern pinyin, except when there is specific value in including them. For visual reference, I have also occasionally used terms with Chinese or Japanese ideograms as is.

Every writer needs help, and I have been shown a great deal of kindness by many people. I am especially indebted to the following people: to the lovely Fiammetta Hsu, my wife, who has patiently listened to me talk about the Heart Sutra for what seems like an eternity and accompanied me on travels to odd places and helped photograph them and provide a link to greater China; to Mark Blum, Buddhist Studies Professor at the University of California, Berkeley, who checked a particularly difficult chapter and agreed to being incessantly badgered with esoteric questions, despite his busy schedule; to John Nelson, Professor of East Asian Religions at the University of San Francisco, for bravely volunteering to be a reader, giving stellar advice, and during a pandemic low point leading me backpacking in the Sierras; to Leonard Rifas, who I believe has read drafts of every book I have written and always, always provided on-target recommendations; to David Olson, for his insights, meticulous mind, and push toward clarity; and to my dear friend and dharma-hero, the monk-priest Daigaku Rummé, who has helped me continually on this project and other adventures in my life, including officiating at my wedding in 2006 where the Heart Sutra was read. And I would be negligent if I did not thank Peter Goodman, my publisher and editor and old friend, who continually consents to publish my overly niche books; Linda Ronan, for always wonderful cover designs; John Sockolov, for help indexing; and Michael Palmer, who works valiantly to publicize my odd books in an increasingly tough publishing world.

For interviews and advice and special assistance, I also want to credit the following people. To avoid the nightmarish problems that occur with mixing nationalities, last names are listed first, and first names are listed last.

Applebaum, Ted | Attwood, Jayarava (for all his years of hard work) | Carey, Bill | Chen, Beverly | Ciner-Schodt family | Clements, Jonathan | Cook, Jared | Degelman family | Dijs, Frederik | Ejiri, Emi | Foster, Matthew | Gleason, Alan | Green, Frederik | Hayama, Judy | Honda, Dōryū | Hsu, Yinchiu | Inoue, Nanae | Ishiguro, Hiroshi | Ishimatsu, Hisayuki | Isobe, Yumi | Kaneko, Miwa | Katō, Kazumitsu | Katz, Milton | Kelly, Larry | Kirchner, Thomas (Yūhō) | Kiyama family | Koren, Leonard | Kotoku, Minoru | Kotyk, Jeffrey | Kudō, Noriyuki | Larrett, Raymond | Larson, Gerald J. | Law family | McBride, Brennan | Masters, Pat | Mikami, Kōraku | Mimatsu, Kanpō | Mori, Masahiro | Nattier, Jan | Ogawa, Kōhei | Ogawa, Mayumi | Porter, Bill (Red Pine) | Rudolph, Deborah | Sekikawa, Natsuo | Shiu, Henry | Snyder, Gary | So, Brenda | Sullivan family (Anisia, Jacob, Mason, Mikey) | Takagi family | Tanahashi, Kazuaki | Tokioka, Keiko & Satoko | Twine family | Van Nest family | Watanabe, Shōgo | Xiong, Shanjun. And special thanks to the two Good Samaritans (one Twinkle Sales and one unknown) who helped me during a motorcycle crash on November 12, 2019, as I was finishing a draft of this manuscript.

THE XUANZANG HEART SUTRA

Base Chinese version of the Heart Sutra included in the Taishō shinshū daizōkyō (the Buddhist Tripiṭaka), vol. 8 T251, noted as having been Translated by Tang Tripiṭaka Master Xuanzang. The main body of the text has 260 characters, as is still the case in China.

THE OFFICIAL SŌTŌ ZEN ENGLISH TRANSLATION OF THE HEART SUTRA

Heart of Great Perfect

Wisdom Sutra

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, when deeply practicing Prajna Paramita, clearly saw that all five aggregates are empty and thus relieved all suffering. Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form. Form itself is emptiness, emptiness itself form. Sensations, perceptions, formations, and consciousness are also like this. Shariputra, all dharmas are marked by emptiness. They neither arise nor cease, are neither defiled nor pure, neither increase nor decrease. Therefore, given emptiness, there is no form, no sensation, no perception, no formation, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind, no sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no object of mind, no realm of sight … no realm of mind consciousness. There is neither ignorance nor extinction of ignorance, neither old age and death, nor extinction of old age and death. No suffering, no cause, no cessation, no path, no knowledge, and no attainment. With nothing to attain, a Bodhisattva relies on Prajna Paramita, and thus the mind is without hindrance. Without hindrance, there is no fear. Far beyond all inverted views, one realizes Nirvana. All Buddhas of past, present, and future rely on Prajna Paramita and thereby attain unsurpassed, complete, perfect enlightenment. Therefore know the Prajna Paramita as the great miraculous mantra, the great bright mantra, the supreme mantra, the incomparable mantra, which removes all suffering and is true, not false. Therefore we proclaim the Prajna Paramita mantra, the mantra that says: Gaté Gaté Paragaté Parasamgaté Bodhi Svaha!

Available at https://global.sotozen-net.or.jp/eng/practice/sutra/pdf/01/04.pdf.

A DESCRIPTION OF THE HEART SUTRA

The Heart Sutra articulates the doctrine of emptiness. But this emptiness must not be understood as the denial of phenomenal existence—it is not nihilism. What it teaches is that everything is dependently arisen from conditions; an event (a thing) occurs if and only if the adequacy of conditions obtains. Since everything is dependently arisen, there is no such thing as an eternally abiding entity. The doctrine of emptiness also spells out the relativity of all views. When one acquires this Wisdom of emptiness, one will realize that all physical and mental events are in a constant process of change, and accordingly everything can be changed by modifying the conditions. Understanding the relativity of all standpoints will also prevent one from becoming irrationally attached to things. In this way, one will come to be free from mental obstructions, and attain to perfect harmony and bliss. At the same time, with the understanding that all are dependently arisen, one will treasure and make good use of the conditions that are available, realizing the idea of benefiting oneself and others.

Displayed on a bronze plaque at the bottom of the Wisdom Trail on Lantau Island, Hong Kong.

1

My Mantra

On September 12, 2016, I was scheduled to go to Los Angeles to work as an interpreter at a conference. The job was to be held in the Japanese American National Museum and focus on aspects of modern Japanese culture. I had a reservation on Southwest Airlines Flight 1518, scheduled to leave Oakland, California, at 7:25 am and arriving in Burbank airport. It was a regular flight for many businesspeople going to Los Angeles, a short hop of about 325 miles, or a little over an hour. I fly a lot and wasn’t worried about the trip. I was mainly worried about my job, since it was to be simultaneous interpreting of a wide-ranging subject area, packed with unfamiliar jargon requiring advance memorization. I worried that I might not be able to keep up with fast speakers in both languages. And as usual in the interpreting business, I just hoped my interpreting partner and I would get through the job successfully, without any complaints, and then happily head home the same day.

On a clear day, the flight from Oakland down to Burbank and the LA area affords spectacular views of California. Out the right windows of the plane there are beaches and the vast Pacific Ocean; directly below, the low-lying coastal mountain range runs north and south; out the left windows, the broad plains of the fertile San Joaquin Valley stretch way out toward the distant, soaring, and sometimes still-snow-capped Sierra Nevada range. But on the 12th, about halfway into the flight, not far from the city of San Luis Obispo, the captain came on the loudspeaker and suddenly announced that the plane had developed a problem with one of the engines, that we didn’t have enough thrust and would have to turn back to Oakland. It was a calm announcement, and the passengers—many of whom presumably took the flight nearly every morning—all seemed to take it quite calmly. But it made me feel a bit anxious, if for no other reason than the fact that our airplane, a Boeing 737, had only two engines.

RELIGION AND ME

I grew up overseas, and because my parents were members of the Foreign Service, airplane travel was always part of my life. It has remained so, but I’ve never particularly enjoyed flying. As a tiny boy, in the days of propeller planes, when there was far more noise, turbulence, and problems with cabin pressurization, on take-offs and landings I would sometimes clutch a tiny New Testament—the pocket sort often handed out for free to children at Sunday School in the mid-1950s—and try to recite the Lord’s Prayer in hopes that the