During the 2025 Ango at One River Zen, Shuso Genpo Seth Myers opened our four-week Heart Sutra study by returning us to the basics — not as beginners in knowledge, but as beginners in seeing. Rather than analyzing the Sutra as philosophy, this first class turns us back toward direct experience: what remains when the grasping mind falls silent.

In this morning talk, Sensei Michael Brunner of One River Zen in Ottawa, Illinois, takes up Case 17 of the Shōyōroku, where a single “hair’s-breadth” is enough to split Heaven and Earth. What begins as a brief exchange between two Zen masters becomes a mirror for the way we create distance from our own lives — every time we compare, resist, or try to understand rather than meet just this.

Chisō Robb Hasty — a student at One River Zen in Ottawa, Illinois and the current Mayor of Ottawa — reflects on a brief koan in which the Zen master Ikkyū visits the dying monk Ninakawa. What unfolds in just a few lines dismantles one of our most unquestioned convictions: that we come into life alone and leave it alone. With the clarity of a single sentence, Ikkyū reveals a path where there is no coming and no going — a reality already present beneath the stories we tell about ourselves.

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.