The Daisaku Ikeda LibraryIntroducing works by the Buddhist philosopher
Author
In the Author's Words
On dialogue
The great American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) once wrote: “Ask what is best in our experience, and we shall say, a few pieces of plain-dealing with wise people.”
Of this I am convinced: The wisdom for peaceful, creative coexistence is born of dialogue that connects one heart with another, born of dialogue that acknowledges and transcends perceptions of difference and the divides of cultures. Through dialogue we invoke the collective wisdom of humanity to bear on the spiritual resources for people’s happiness in this world we share. Dialogue functions best when it is inclusive and accessible, serving to enhance and bring out what is good, the strength of character and nobility, in each participant.
With this in mind, I have welcomed dialogue with all manner of leading figures throughout the world. Seeking solidarity for global peace and intercultural understanding, I have met representatives of many of the world’s religions, including Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Judaism, as well as representatives of state and government. I have engaged educators, scholars, scientists, economists, peace proponents, journalists, literary writers, artists, astronauts and others as partners in dialogue to raise awareness of the manifold ways in which life’s inherent dignity and the common ground of humanity are expressed.
Naturally, our frank exchange of views and opinions have many times revealed differences as well as commonalities. But it is my belief that diversity brings about discovery, and from such dialogue evolves new values and new wisdom.
When I traveled to meet with British historian Dr. Arnold J. Toynbee (1889-1975), the media reported the visit of one head of state to the United Kingdom. Dr. Toynbee’s comment will always be with me: “Our dialogue may be unnoticed and inconspicuous today,” he said, “but it will certainly be remembered for generations to come. Let us leave behind a valuable dialogue for the sake of the future.”
Moreover, the reason these wide-ranging dialogues were published lies with my hope to share the full spectrum of experiences and illuminating insights of these outstanding men and women, and my desire to broaden our discourse with as many readers as possible.
In any event, people cannot survive without language. Faith in the power of words, I believe, translates into an abiding faith in the power of humanity. Words that well forth from the human soul can achieve the mightiest things. They arouse courage from within; they inspire us with hope.
This is why I continue to engage in dialogue and carry on with my writings—to offer courage to my friends who are battling adversity and further advance the path to peace.
On the aims of writing
Though it has always been a passion, I would say writing, particularly as I grew into adulthood, went beyond the exercise or even the personal satisfaction of the skills to write. It was increasingly aimed at encouraging young people, addressing life’s problems and developing my thoughts on society and Buddhism. And so, writing became inseparable from my lifelong endeavors for peace.
Taking on a number of leadership responsibilities within Soka Gakkai in my twenties, I was frequently asked to publish messages I’d written to young people and my Buddhist views on social issues. It was my aim to encourage young people to develop a strong self, a self undefeated by challenging circumstances, and to demonstrate the Buddhist wisdom that the purpose of society—its structures, its very existence—is to establish the happiness of the individual.
Over the years, along the quest to contribute to global peace, my thoughts have been enriched by dialogues with intellectuals and leaders in various fields. Writing has been for me a way of involving readers in furthering and expanding those dialogues which, in essence, call out for peace. Encouraging people, especially youth, to create dialogue—with family and colleagues, in everyday interactions, in the public square, wherever they are—has been my aim.
On the inspiration to write
The first thing that inspired me to write was, in a word, reading. I was a sickly child and naturally took to books. They were my constant companions and reading became second nature to me.
To this day, I still remember the first time I read Les Misérables, by the great French writer Victor Hugo, and the words that made my spirits soar beyond the constraints of my weak constitution: “There is a prospect greater than the sea, and it is the sky; there is a prospect greater than the sky, and it is the human soul.” From that moment on, I wanted to write of things that would inspire and move readers as Victor Hugo did.
Still in my teens when World War II ended in Japan’s utter defeat, I devoured books on philosophy trying to understand why the upheaval, the anguish, the suffering—the insanity—of the times. I began to keep a diary and notebooks, jotting down ideas and reflections, mostly disjointed phrases and fragments of thoughts.
Encountering—the first when I was 19—the man I consider my mentor, Josei Toda, gave my thoughts and my life a clear direction. An extraordinary mathematician and educator, he set me on a rigorous course of studies ranging from Buddhism and core curricular subjects to philosophies about life, society and history. He had me read a multitude of books and write about them, always making it a point to quiz and engage me on any given subject.
In just a year, Mr. Toda tasked me with greater responsibility to apply myself, when he appointed me editor-in-chief of a boys’ magazine [Boys’ Adventures] put out by his publishing company. I wrote many different articles, sometimes under a pen name. Under his strict tutelage—a “Toda University,” if you will—I challenged myself to piece together what had been mere fragments of knowledge and ideas into more coherent pieces of writing.
Writing for children
When I think of children, the precious emissaries among us from the future, I feel compelled to impart to them, somehow instill in their hearts an unwavering commitment to peace and a vision of a beautiful world.
Prolific blooms of happiness arise from a spiritually rich soil. We, the adult generation, know from life experience that neither hopes nor dreams will grow in the barrenness of a heart dominated by violence and greed. What constitutes justice? What are the real treasures in life? I believe it is our first and foremost responsibility to convey this wisdom to children. I have written children’s stories as a way of fulfilling that responsibility, a way of planting in their hearts the seeds of justice, courage, hope, earnestness and kindness.
My first job working under Mr. Toda, my mentor, was at his publishing company as editor-in-chief of a boys’ magazine [Boys’ Adventures]. I met with many poets and other literary authors to request articles for our magazine. Being in my twenties, a young and inexperienced editor, I had to study these authors and their writing styles beforehand so that I could convince them I was qualified to edit their works. Even then, there were times an article didn’t make the deadline, which meant writing it myself. These experiences have continued to this day to be of invaluable help.
Writing poetry
Ever since I was a boy I have been fond of poetry, finding particular enjoyment in reading Walt Whitman in translation or Japanese poets like Doi Bansui (1871–1952). Immersed in the world of poetry, I discovered the wings of imagination that would allow my dreams to soar through the heavens. Poetry, I found, has limitless capacity to express the profound, to flourish among the fragrant blooms of the heart. It is these qualities of poetry that captured my mind. From time to time, in an attempt to express some personal inspiration or idea, I have produced my own brand of poetry.
My fondness for verse stems from the fact that it allows succinct expression of what one feels about something. Verse is indeed quite well suited to my own temperament. In the midst and in the chaotic aftermath of World War II in Japan—when every sense of human value and dignity was uprooted—my young mind searched for the truth of things. I was often ill during those days, frail since infancy. Perhaps that is the reason I became so extremely sensitive and why, when I tried to give direct expression to what I felt so deeply, I naturally turned to poetry.
As a result I developed the habit of occasionally entrusting my thoughts and feelings to poetry—or not so much to poetry as to slight verses that neither rise above my personal circumstances nor transcend the simple function of giving me solace.
From the viewpoint of a literary critic, my verse may be unworthy of comment. But then I do not write for the critic. My sole intentions are to express forthrightly the feelings that come to me in the context of my daily life and activities, and to convey my hopes for the future. It may sound radical, but I wonder if poetry is not the free expression of such feelings and hopes. The poetry of the Manyoshu has survived over a thousand years and continues to throb with life; Whitman’s Leaves of Grass continues to transcend national boundaries as it powerfully exalts the cries of the individual. In both cases the poetry is alive and meaningful today because it reveals the human spirit and relates to what is basically human—to that which cannot be captured merely by form and convention.
To my view, poetry is no play of words but, instead, a very serious undertaking. A single word can cast people into the depths of despair, or it can be the source of hope that enduringly uplifts and illuminates. To me the sole purpose of poetry is to give courage. When I have in mind to encourage young people and give voice to their innate courage, words seem to well up endlessly from within; everything I see and come in contact with transforms itself into poetry.
I know of no greater joy therefore than to imagine that even one line or one phrase of my verse might somehow touch the reader’s heart. In our turbulent age one needs goals to keep from being swept away by change and upheaval. I fervently hope in my own case that I might always have time to think about the meaning of life, to converse eloquently with nature, and to be sufficiently composed to respond to poetic inspiration.
Poetic inspiration, I feel, is the wellspring of human imagination and creativity. It serves as the link between human beings, society and the universe. It cultivates dreams, hopes and courage in the fertile earth of the heart and mind. And there it creates harmony and integration.
Everyone, no matter who he or she may be, possesses the capacity for virtue. I believe it is the task and challenge of a poet to return our gaze back to humanity and re-inspire trust and confidence in our inherent goodness.