Read Online Seiobo There Below by László Krasznahorkai - Free Book Online Page A

in terms of the lesser-ranking monks, they had to explain who should do what, and when; it wasn’t even worthwhile to deal with the question of the essence of the ceremony as well as its variegated details, it was good enough, the abbot indicated to the leader of the temple administration, if they correctly chanted the sūtras and recited the mantras, if the musicians knew exactly when to bang away and when to stay quiet, and in general it would be enough if everyone clearly understood the structure of the ritual awaiting them, and if the components of it could be carried out faultlessly, that would really be enough; well, that is — the abbot rubbed his shorn pate, as the designated day approached — well, that is a lot too, for he could surely see that here lay precisely the hard part: there could be no errors, by no one, from the rōshi to the deshi, nothing that was not allowed, their coming and going, standing and kneeling, to begin and end the sacred chant when necessary — that was the hardest part, the abbot said, vexedly rubbing his itchy skull once more; he had already seen much and he knew that it wouldn’t work, it would not be perfect, someone always makes a mistake, standing up too late, or kneeling down too late; even he was unclear at times, either beginning a little too slowly than was necessary, or too quickly, or being uncertain for a moment: where to now, the left? — or maybe even . . . to the right? oh no, groaned the abbot on the evening before the appointed day, when the special moving van ordered here for delivery by the Bijutsu-in — that is the National Treasure Institute for the Restoration of Wooden Statues — had already arrived from Kyōto, and the driver, after the measurements of the statue had been taken and the large kiri-wood transit crate had been made, was happily snoring away in one of the guestrooms, oh no, what now, how are we going to fulfill our obligations properly, the abbot rubbed his shaven scalp worriedly, but then he quelled the anxiety within himself; if he could not, on that day, completely suppress his excitement, in any case when he arose the next day, that is today, at four in the morning to the sound of the great bell, the ogane, and quickly washed, he felt neither anxiety nor any kind of excitement, only the obligation to carry out the tasks that awaited him, just the order of things to be done: the first, then the second, so that simply no time remained to reflect on such matters as how, being the jushoku — that is, the abbot of the temple — or simply a Zen monk, how could he even have been anxious or excited in the past weeks and days, because now that the whole thing was beginning, he couldn’t pay attention to anything else but taking the very next step, then the next after that and so on, and so it is and so it would be proper, in this way, for the day to begin by simultaneously giving the order to close — that is not to open — the gates; to check the day’s events, affixed to the kiku-board, making sure that everything was written out correctly, to see if the work was going on in the kitchen and at the spot designated for packing up the statue next to the van; to see if the monks had begun their procession with the jikijitsu at the front into the zendō; to see if the musicians had been asked for the last time if they knew the exact sequence of events; all of these orders had to be given at once, and at the same time they had to be supervised: first the closing, that is the non-opening of the gates — in this matter he wished to see it with his own eyes — that is first to go to the Sanmon, the main gate, then to seek out the others in turn, even nudging them with his hand, were they really closed, only this would convince him, only in this way would he believe that yes, the monastery was closed, and still it was hardly half past four, or maybe a quarter to five in the morning, and the monastery was hermetically sealed, no way to get in, no way