"When my master and I were walking in the rain, he would say, 'Do not walk so fast, the rain is everywhere.' "

"So-on steppedc off the train at the village of Mori. Behind him followed a new disciple, his young and very small devotee Toshitaka Suzuki."

...

"Although he was moving only from one temple to another, he was also entering into a new setting that would totally change his life. He showed up in the middle of the hundred-day practice period. Eight students had joined So-on for this trianing, including some monks and some young trainees. Toshi was the youngest. There were no small children or women in the temple. While not huge, Zoun-in was much larger and more impressive than Shoganji."

...

"He had never before lived with such a demanding schedule. Everyone rose at four in the morning and sat zazen, Zen meditation. Then there was a service where they chanted sutras, followed by a thorough temple cleaning, which the students carried out vigorously. They dusted, swept, and wiped the woodwork down with damp cloths. They ran down the wood floors bent over, pushing the towels befor them. Even in the cold morning they wore only kimonos and thin underwear - no warm layers of monk's robes. After a breakfast of white rice with raw egg, miso soup, fish, and pickes, some of the younger boys who were permanent residents went off to school. For Toshi there was work all day ad then more zazen in the evening. He had to learn how to sit in the lotus posture with legs crossed, instead of the traditional seiza, sitting in a kneeling position with bottom on heels. He was told nothing about zazen except just to sit and not to move.

"Toshi did not become homesick, because the activity at Zoun-in was so invigorating and because he was in love with So-on. Buddhism is not what motivated him; he had only vague, simplistic ideas of what it was. It was So-on who inspired him. Toshi focused on So-on, throwing himself into serving his new master, much as So-on had served Sogaku twenty-five years before."

"Big and strong, So-on had long practiced kyudo, the way of archery. One day when a guest at the temple asked So-on about an exceedingly tall bow that hung on the wall, he called his disciples and announced there would be a kyudo demonstration. He took the long, thick bow, taller than he was, and had Toshi set up a straw target. After placing an arrow in the bow with the same attention he devoted to offering a stick of incense at the altar, he pulled the string back slowly and deeply and let the arrow fly. Turning to the boys, he asked them to try to pull back the bowstring. One by one they tried but couldn't budge it, even though some of them were older teenagers, not weaklings at all. The guest then tried and couldn't bend the bow wither. The demonstration was over."

(page 19):

"So-on related to Toshi gruffly, mainly ignoring him, but also giving him some slack because he was so young. If Toshi didn't rise with the wake-up bell, nothing was said to him. He tried, but it was hard. Many mornings he'd go back to his sleep, and his eyes would next open when he heard the sounds of the Heart Sutra coming from the buddha hall - 'Kanjizai bosatsu gyo jin hannya haramita...' At Shoganji he'd heard his father chant that alone in the mornings and with others in ceremonies.

"Not long after Toshi's arrival, the aging Oka Sotan came with his close disciple of many years, Keiza. They were referred to reverently by So-on as Okay-roshi and Keiza-roshi, roshi being a term of respect for older priests. Seeing his master with them, observing the strictness with which they all conducted themselves, Toshi felt he was in the midst of the greatness he had heard of. His task in life was to be like them.

" 'I was lucky to be there and was encouraged by them, but the difficult thing was to get up in the morning as they did.' This was the first lesson Toshi learned at his new temple. It took time, and nobody would help him, but eventually he discovered that he could do it if he jumped out of bef before he had a thought. Once he knew how, he never stopped. It became a lifelong practice and teaching of his: 'When the bell rings, get up!' "

(page 20-22):

"On May 18, 1917, his thirteenth birthday, Toshi was ordained as a novice monk. He received the precepts, took the vows, and formally became a disciple of Gyokujun So-on. He also received a set of black robes to go over his Japanese kimono: a koromo, the Chinese outer tove with long sleeves; an okesa, a large rectangular cloth with finely sewn sections in seven rows resembling rice fields, which is the sacred robe of the monk; and a rakasu, a miniature and less formal okesa with straps, which is worn on the chest and over the shoulders like a bib.He was given the Buddhist name of Shogaku Shunryu. Shogaku, Auspicious Peak, was combined with his birth name, Shunryu, Excellent Emergence. He was called Shunryu-san by his fellow students. So-on had taken to calling him Crooked Cucumber, a private nickname for his absent-minded, idealistic, quirky little disciple.

"Life with So-on was harsh. Even in the winter they weren't allowed to wear tabi, the socks worn with zori, on the cold wood floors where young Shunryu would often work all day. Some of the boys would walk on tiptoe when So-on wasn't looking, so as to reduce the amount of skin that came in contact with the freezing floor. So-on suspected that the only reason the boy was at Zoun-in was to inherit the temple from him and to return it to his family. He was obligated to his master, Sogaku to train the little fellow, but if the basis of his being there was suck an ambition, then he wouldn't be a good priest.

"In addition, So-on still had some feelings about Sogaku, who had been a severe and unsentimental master himself. So-on taunted Shunryu about his father, whom Shunryu loved and felt loyal to, and who had mellowed since the time of So-on's apprenticeship. There was nothig Toshi could do but listen to So-on. He told the boy how Sagaku had often hit him on the head when he was young (a common disciplinary practice of the time) and claimed that it had made him dim-witted. So-on siad that once when he got into mischief, Sogaku had hung him upside down on the temple gate.

"So-on sent Shunryu to the village upper-elementary school but did not provide him with proper clothes. His kimonos were old and tattered. A woman who lived near the temple took pity on the boy and made some new kimonos out of scraps, but they had a different pattern on each sleeve. He was so embarrassed at his appearance that he'd wear his coar even during physical education, saying he was sick. In winter he was never warm enough. Though his family at Kanagawa haf been poor, and he didn't have as much as the other boys, at least his mother had always sewn him good kimonos, so he never had to suffer this sort of indignity. Zoun-in want't that poor a temple, so there was nor reason for this except to test his endurance.

"We say, 'Only to sit on a cushion in not Zen.' The Zen master's everyday life, character, and spirit is Zen. My own master said, 'I will not accept any monastery where there is lazy training, where the rooms are full of dust.' He was very strict. To sleep when we sleep, to scrub the floor and keep it clean, that is our Zen. So practice is first. And as a result of practice, there is teaching.

"Instead of complaining and asking to be taken back home, Shunryu tried to show his sincerity through is actions. Taking to heart So-on'd admonitions on daily practice, Shunryu applied himself with energy in each activity, especially cleaning. He vowed to clean the blackened kitchen pans and surfaces. All boys worked in the kitchen, and some of them were lazy cleaners. So-on said that Dogen, in his instructions to the cook, had emphasized the importance of finding liberation in kitchen work. So Shunryu threw himself into scrubbing off the layers of soot that came from smoky, open-fire cooking.

"Then I felt some joy in cleaning the smut off the pans. In this way each of us must have some vow; then we will find joyful mind and big mind and kind mind. When we clean because of our vow, we will find that we are kind to everyone, instead of angry. That is bodhisattva mind.

"After a while little Shunryu's conscientious effort softened big So-on a bit. While continuing to be tough, imperious, and critical of Shunryu and his father, So-on began to take the boy seriously and respect his motives.

"The honeymoon phase was over. Now So-on wanted more from Shunryu than puppy love. He wanted him to listen to the intent of his teaching, get beyond his limiting idealism, meet him on the dharma (teaching) ground."

(page 23):

"To encourage a student by setting a good example is one sort of mercy. To shout at me when I was proudly showing off was another sort of mercy, another kindness."

"So-on did not have any particular teaching or system, and his students were often in the dark about what they should be doing or how they should be doing it. Suzuki said that So-on was usually silent, so much so that his disciples had to learn most things on their own, just watching what he did. But they weren't necessarily supposed to be doing exactly what he did, so they'd get nervous and feel lost. Suzuki siad they actually developed a liking for the sound of So-on's scolding voice, because then they knew what to do. How to clean a pond with concentration and selflessness was one thing, but So-on was also mute when it came to more complicated subjects such as how to conduct a memorial service.

"The boys often went out with So-on to perform services in the homes of danka (danka is the community of lay members/supporters of a temple in Japan). The details of what they chanted and how they went about it were always changing. And the nuances of how to strike the bells and mokugyo, the wooden fish drum, how and when to bow, and so forth were so various and subtle that they could never do it quite right. Right in front of a family seated solemnly before them, So-on would look over at Shunryu hitting a bell and suddenly growl, 'What are you doing?' Then he'd take the striker out of Shunryu's hand and show him how it was done. It was embarrassing, but at least in that way he'd been shown something. Later Suzuki said that through this sort of study he learned how to apply himself to new problems without preparation, developing confidence in his ability to meet situations as they arose.

"Returning from such a memorial service one summer evening, having just been well fed and carrying gifts of food, the boys walked with So-on on a path in the twilight. So-on had taken the tabi off his feet at the door and slipped them into the sleeve of his robe, but the boys had their tabi on. When they reached a wooded area he told them to go first since they were wearing tabi, and it was the time of year when mamushi, poisonous snakes, would be out. Mamushi are not large snakes, and tabi offer a certain amount of protection. So the boys said, 'Hai!' and went ahead feeling like brave monks.

"When they got to the temple So-on said, 'Why don't you boys sit down?' They knew something was up but they had no idea what. 'I knew you boys were not so alert, ' he told them, 'but I didn't know you were that dull. When I am not wearing tabi, why do you wear them? You should have noticed.' Then the boys were deeply ashamed. They were not supposed to be dressed more formally than their teacher. This subtle and indirect way of communicating is what Suzuki-roshi later called, 'learning to listen to the other side of the words.' "

"So-on kept cakes and other goodies on hand to serve to guests who dropped by the temple. The boys, usually hungry, were always pilfering these treats. He kept hiding them in new places, but his young disciples would find them."

...

"They'd find a cake and take off little slices so that he wouldn't notice; later they'd go back and cut the corners off; finally they'd realize that they were going to get caught anyway, so they'd divide it up and eat it all. He wouldn't get angry at them for this sort of mischief, but if he thought someone had taken something to eat all by himself, he'd get very angry.

"Once So-on put a large persimmon in the rice so it would ripen there. When he came to get it, it was gone. He asked who had eaten it. Shunryu said he didn't know. So-on found out who ate it and gave the thief hell - not because he took the persimmon, but because he hadn't shared it. Shunryu regretted that he hadn't taken the blame."