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On December 11, 1645, Takuan’s disciples, who had been attending him on his deathbed, asked him to leave a traditional farewell poem (yuige.) Takuan waved his hand in refusal. They persisted in their request, so Takuan took his brush and wrote the single word, “Dream.” He laid down his brush and died. He was 73 years old.
Takuan left the following last wishes to his disciples:
Bury my body behind the mountain, covered only with earth.
Recite no sutras for me.
Do not invite priests nor treat them to a feast.
Accept no money for incense from any priest or layman.
Continue your normal daily routine after I die.
Build no stupa, and do not erect a memorial statue of Buddha for me.
Make no traditional wooden memorial tablet, nor assign me a posthumous Buddhist name.
Do not place a wooden name tablet in my honor in the Sodo of Honzan.
Compile no chronology of my life.
These were his last desires. At the very end of this list, he asked that one pine tree be planted at the spot where his body was buried in place of a grave marker. I think his dying wishes express his character very well.
It had long been the custom for a Zen priest to leave a farewell poem. Any writing made just before a man’s death can be called a farewell poem, but things written during his lifetime cannot be regarded as such. Takuan considered writing farewell poems to be foolish. I find it amusing that he did not want to have a sutra recited, the priests treated to a feast, or his students to accept any money for incense. He did not want any funeral rights.
If a man is a true Zen priest, it is absolutely unnecessary to hold funeral rites for him. I think the top rank of priests today should follow Takuan’s example as far as possible.