SUZUKI ROSHI TRANSLATION
The four elements return to their nature as a child turns to its mother; Fire heats, wind moves, Water wets, earth is solid.
MAEZUMI ROSHI TRANSLATION
The four elements return to their nature as a child to its mother. Fire is hot, wind moves, water is wet, earth hard.
SENSEI SŌEN MICHAEL BRUNNER COMMENTARY
In this passage, our gaze is directed toward the elemental forces that shape our existence. Eastern thought centered on the four elements—fire, wind, water, and earth—as the basic building blocks of the world of form. These are not abstractions; they are the immediate conditions of our life. When we sit zazen, the warmth of the body is fire, the rising and falling of breath is wind, the blood and tears are water, the weight of the bones and flesh is earth. We are never apart from the elements—they are the field of our practice.
The four elements symbolize the fundamental aspects of our physical and experiential reality. Fire represents heat and transformation, wind signifies movement and change, water embodies fluidity and nourishment, and earth bears solidity and stability. Each element possesses its unique qualities and plays its own part, yet together they weave the tapestry of life.
Sekitō compares this to a child turning to its mother. The metaphor is subtle and intimate. Just as a child seeks comfort and security in the embrace of its mother, the elements find their home in the great source. The child does not question,compare, or calculate—it simply rests in the mother’s arms. So too, the elements return naturally, without hesitation, to their own function: fire heats, wind moves, water wets, earth supports. There is no struggle in this returning. It is seamless, complete, and entirely natural.
Observing the elements in their natural state, we witness them simply being themselves. They do not grasp for another role. Earth does not envy the fire; nor does the water attempt to hold still like a stone. Each rests in its own nature, and yet each depends upon the others. Without the solidity of earth, fire cannot burn; without wind, flames do not move; without water, there is no life to be warmed. Distinct, yet entirely interdependent.
This reflection calls us to recognize our own interdependence with the elements. We, too, find our place only in relation to all else. Consciousness and sense-objects rely on one another, creating the harmony of existence. By dissolving the boundary of “observer” into the elemental qualities of the observed, we find ourselves at home. Our practice becomes not a contest of judgment or control, but a participation in what already is.
The call of the Sandōkai is to live in accord with this naturalness. To allow fire to be hot, wind to move, water to flow,earth to endure. When we allow things to return to their own nature, the world reveals its seamlessness. In our practice,this means to let thoughts arise and fall, sensations come and go, awareness open and close—each doing its work, each returning home.
Everything is in ceaseless transformation, and yet each thing abides in its own place. To witness this is to be at home in the dance of the elements. When we stop resisting the natural return, we find the embrace of the mother everywhere—in each breath, each tear, each stone beneath our feet. In that embrace, there is no separation. Only the vast, steady presence of the source itself.
