As sesshin closed, we turned to Case 6 of the Shōyōroku—Baso’s “White and Black.” What begins as a monk’s search for meaning becomes a living exchange of silence, headache, and not-knowing. Baso’s answer isn’t spoken; it’s embodied. White and black—two gestures of one mind—point to the truth that never stops walking.

In this final talk from sesshin, Sensei Michael Brunner concludes the four-part series on Sekitō Kisen’s Song of the Grass-Roof Hermitage with the closing verse: “Turn around the light to shine within, then just return.” Having built the hut, opened it to vastness, and settled into stillness, the hermit now comes home to what was never apart. This is the return beyond attainment — the simplicity of being lived by the Way itself.

Here, Sekitō Kisen speaks of stability, embodiment, and the luminous ordinariness of awakening. We return to the hut not to escape the world, but to live freely within it. The wind, the rain, the aching knees of zazen — all are part of the same song.

In this second talk from the 2025 Ango Opening Sesshin, Sensei Michael Brunner continues his four-part exploration of Sekitō Kisen’s Song of the Grass Roof Hermitage. What began as a fragile ten-foot hut now opens to include the entire world. The hermit who once sought refuge discovers that his dwelling has no boundaries — and that the “original master” who abides within is unborn, undying, and ever-present.

In this opening talk from the 2025 Ango Sesshin at One River Zen, Sensei Michael Brunner introduces Sekitō Kisen’s timeless poem, The Song of the Grass Roof Hermitage. Speaking from the stillness of sesshin, Sensei explores how Sekitō’s “grass hut” is not a structure but a state of mind — simple, transparent, and free.

At the opening of our Ango practice period, we turned to the koan Hyakujo’s Fox—a story about karma, consequence, and the illusion of escape. We spend much of our lives trying to outwit our circumstances, but awakening isn’t found outside the web of cause and effect—it’s revealed right within it. Each breath, each act, each mistake is already the field of practice.

Your Buddha nature isn’t something you polish into being—it’s already here, already complete. The project of self-perfection collapses. What remains? Just this—quiet presence, unguarded wonder. The heart of Zen.

We speak so often without really intending to connect—just trying to be right, or to relieve some internal pressure. But unless someone sincerely wants to hear, our words scatter like dust. In Zen, there’s no reward for performance, no applause for being “beyond.” In fact, the very idea of being beyond is often the net we’re still caught in. True practice begins when we stop trying to be impressive, stop trying to be seen, and simply meet the moment as it is—muddy, raw, and real. Let the dust settle. Then you can begin.

In this teisho, we enter the deep current of the Avatamsaka Sutra and Dōgen’s wisdom to explore Indra’s Net, karmic momentum, and the luminous jewel hidden in the folds of your very own robe. You don’t need to earn it—but you do need to realize it.

We are already reflecting the whole, whether we see it or not.

Wonder, not knowledge, is the key.

What if awakening isn’t found in scriptures or mountaintops, but in a simple farm rice cake?
In this grounded and provocative talk, Sensei Michael Brunner reflects on a Zen koan that challenges our deepest assumptions about sacredness. Why do we divide life into holy and profane? What do we miss when we dismiss the ordinary?