Mindfulness of death is powerful because it begins to bring about a deep

questioning, a profound shift of identity in the face of death who are we.

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I'm going to start with a little bit of poetry, if I may, and these are very

particular poems. In the Zen tradition, one of the ways in which a Zen master might

choose to die is to write a death poem shortly before their death and an

authentic death poem. I think it only counts if you write it on the day that you die.

Otherwise, you don't get all your points for it. So here are a few poems from

from certain great Zen masters. Isa wrote, from one basin to another, stuff

and nonsense. And died.

Master Joseki wrote, this must be my birthday, there in paradise.

Master Tyu, though I should live to be a hundred, the same world, the same cherry blossoms.

And Zen master Kiba, my old body, a drop of dew grown heavy at the leaf tip.

Empty handed, I entered the world barefoot I leave it, my coming, my going, two simple

happenings that got entangled.

Till now I thought the death befell the untalented alone.

If those with talent too must die, surely they make a better maneuver.

And from one old drunken Zen master, bury me when I die beneath a wine barrel and a tavern

with luck, the cask will leak.

I start with those poems because I'd like to speak about death this evening.

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