UJI Part Five | Embracing the True Nature of UJI
When ordinary, everyday people who do not take the Buddha’s Teachings as their model hear the phrase ‘just for the time being’ in Yakusan’s poem, they customarily hold a view like the following:
There was once a time when Yakusan had become what he describes as ‘someone with three heads and eight arms’ and some other time when he had become ‘someone eight or sixteen feet tall’. It is as though he were saying, “I have crossed the rivers and climbed over the mountains. Even though those mountains and rivers may have existed in the past, I have completely gone beyond them and have now made a place for myself atop a vermilion pedestal in the Jeweled Palace. I fancy that the mountains and rivers on the one hand and I on the other are now as far apart as heaven and earth.” But such a view is not all there is to the principle of the case.
We now turn to a pivotal section of the text that addresses a common misunderstanding for many. We may perceive uji as suggesting separate, distinct times when one is this or that – as though Yakusan was once a three-headed, eight-armed figure and, at another time, an eight or sixteen-foot-tall being. This view implies a linear, segmented progression where one surpasses previous states, distancing oneself from past experiences as if they no longer hold any relevance.
This interpretation, however, misses the essence of Uji. It separates the self from the flow of time and existence, creating an artificial division between past, present, and future. It imagines that having once crossed mountains and rivers, one can now sit atop a pedestal, disconnected from those experiences. But Dōgen reminds us that such a view is not all there is to the principle of the case.
Every moment and every experience is a profound manifestation of all that is. Uji transcends our conditioned notions of time and existence. It beckons us to recognize that the mountains and rivers we have traversed are not left behind; they are an integral part of this infinite-present moment. We are not isolated from our past; our past, present, and future are intricately woven into the fabric of our being. This understanding has the potential to transform our perception of time and existence.
This does not mean that the past somehow persists as a collection of memories that we carry around with us. It is much more intimate than that. The one who crossed the mountains and rivers and the one who sits here now are not two separate beings divided by time. The mountains, the rivers, the crossing, and this present moment all find expression as uji. Nothing has been discarded. Nothing stands outside this moment. Even the parts of our lives we imagine we have escaped or outgrown are fully included in the boundless activity of being-time.
Yakusan's poem serves as a clarion call, urging us to delve into the nature of our experiences and our perception of time. Instead of viewing our journey as a series of separate, isolated events, we are challenged to comprehend that our past, present, and future are all present here and now. This perspective dissolves the illusion of separation and guides us towards embracing our true nature.
