78 BUDDHADHARMA: THE PRACTITIONER'S QUARTERLY
Later when I heard that Emperor Showa had assigned “bridge”
as the theme for the New Year’s poetry party at the Imperial Palace,
those lines again came to mind. I was not invited to the party,
but I wrote a poem on the theme, incorporating those lines:
Helping donkeys to cross
And horses to cross:
Such a bridge I wish to be,
Yet I am merely helped to cross.
During the Tang dynasty in China, there was a great Zen master
named Chao-chou. To reach his temple it was necessary to cross
what had become known as Chao-chou’s bridge. A monk once asked
him, “What is your bridge?” He did not mean the bridge on the way
to the temple, but Chao-chou’s practice of Buddhism. Chao-chou
answered, “It helps both donkeys and horses to cross.”
A bridge allows not only donkeys to cross it, but more valuable
animals like horses. A bridge does not distinguish between friends
and enemies or saints and sinners. It unconditionally helps anyone to
cross. It allows them over whatever their attitude is toward it, even
if they kick at it or urinate on it. Few people cross it with gratitude.
Chao-chou selflessly wished that all people might cross from This
Shore of delusion to the Other Shore of enlightenment. His practice,
like that of a great bodhisattva, is splendidly symbolized by a bridge.
What about me? What about my petty self that picks and chooses
according to its own convenience? Do I think it is all right for the
horse to cross over, but not the donkey? Is it all right for my friends
but not my enemies? It is my ego that desires praise and makes me
want to be appreciated as a bridge and thanked before helping some-
one to cross, and that cannot avoid imposing conditions on those
who cross. It is also my ego that sulks, muttering that the person
urinating on the bridge should not be helped to cross.
Ever focusing on the lines “Helping donkeys to cross / And
horses to cross” as if I were repeatedly invoking Amida, I have spent
my time meeting practitioners and believers. One day it suddenly