| Turning the Heart Toward Tomekichi Taike — Entering His World — |
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4. Entering the World of Tomekichi Taike |
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At first, I considered trying to bring together what I had come to feel from the world of Tomekichi Taike in relation to the issues that arise in our everyday lives.
For example, topics such as organ transplantation, domestic violence, and drug abuse came to mind.
I thought that by speaking about these issues from the perspective of his world, it might be one way to help readers first understand the world of Tomekichi Taike on an intellectual level.
However, I found that I could not write as I had intended.
Perhaps my true feeling was that, rather than speaking about such issues in various ways, I simply wanted to convey the world of Tomekichi Taike more directly and straightforwardly.
So then, how should I go about speaking of that world in concrete terms?
As I reflected on this, I felt that the starting point must lie in the actual path I myself had walked—learning together with Tomekichi Taike.
And so, I decided to begin from there.
In the past, in a book titled Arigatō, I wrote about how I came to attend the seminars that Tomekichi Taike had opened.
It was through certain events in my own life that I finally found myself ready to take that long-delayed step and begin this learning.
At the seminar venue, I encountered a man named Tomekichi Taike, and through learning to observe my own heart, I gradually began to turn my attention more and more toward the energy I myself was emitting.
I say this quite casually now, but in truth, it took me a good five or six years before I was even able to begin to sense the energy flowing from within me.
That is how firmly I had kept my own heart closed.
Then again, perhaps "closed" is not quite the right expression.
I was, in every respect, an ordinary woman—someone who had no issues such as withdrawal or emotional instability, but who had simply gone about life in a fairly easygoing way, like anyone else.
What I mean by "closing the heart" is not that I lacked intelligence, but that I was insensitive. And being insensitive does not mean being foolish. It simply means that I placed far greater trust in what could be seen than in what could not be seen. I was the kind of person who interpreted things with the mind rather than feeling them with the heart.
The world of consciousness that Tomekichi Taike spoke of is not something that can be understood with the mind—it is a world that can only be known through the heart.
And yet, although I wished to feel it in my heart, that was not something that came easily to me.
During that time, I attended countless seminars.
And I must admit that there were moments when, unable to feel anything within my own heart, I blamed him—thinking, "It's his fault. He should explain it in a way that I can understand."
Looking back now, I can only see how shallow I was.
Those around me who were also engaged in the learning—my mother, my aunt, and their friends—were all, to some extent, sensitive. At the time, I felt as though I alone was unable to enter that world, and I experienced a deep sense of isolation.
I felt a certain urgency within myself—this would not do.
To confess honestly now, there was a period when my motivation for attending seminars was far from pure. And yet, perhaps it is simply my own way of seeing it, but I feel that even that was driven by a strong prompting from within myself.
Let me add one more thing.
At that time, in areas near where I lived—such as Kansai, and in the Kanto region places like Hamamatsu and Atami—there were many people attending the seminars.
I felt that with so many participants, it was difficult to learn in a relaxed and sufficient way, and to be honest, I sometimes felt that the time and money I spent were not being fully rewarded.
So I traveled—to Hokkaido, to Kagoshima, to Okinawa, and even to the United States.
Why did I go so far? Simply because, in those places, the number of participants was relatively small.
There may have been deeper reasons, but at the time, that was the main one for me.
I chose to attend distant seminars without hesitation. I paid no attention to the travel costs or the physical fatigue. All I wanted was to learn in a quieter, more spacious environment.
And as it turned out, the effect was indeed significant.
In the early summer about a year after I had begun diligently attending overnight seminars, I was asked, at a seminar in the United States, to come forward before Tomekichi Taike.
At that time, the seminars were centered mainly around what might be called channeling—individuals who appeared to be channelers would receive the consciousness of those who wished to do so and speak on their behalf in a one-sided manner.
Although I had not volunteered for it myself, I was given the opportunity to receive such a channeling.
After my consciousness had been received and expressed in that way, I then turned my heart toward Tomekichi Taike.
At that very moment, what I felt resonating within my heart was something deeply nostalgic.
"I know this… I know this… how familiar this is…"
I remember crying out within myself in that way.
Looking back now, I feel that one of the major reasons I continued attending seminars so frequently was that I could not forget that sense of nostalgia I felt at that time.
My heart knew. Though it was not something present in my conscious memory, my heart knew—it knew this feeling, this deep familiarity.
And it was this realization, felt in my heart, that drove me even more strongly toward the seminars thereafter.
Even so, attending seminars twice a month—when I look back now, there is a sense of nostalgia, of course, but even more strongly, I feel a sense of amazement that I was able to continue as I did.
I traveled on the Tokaido, Sanyo, and Joetsu Shinkansen lines; at times I took limited express trains, at other times airplanes; and from airports or stations, I would ride buses for long hours before finally arriving at the seminar venue. It was an incredibly demanding schedule, and yet I carried it through.
Over more than twenty years, the scenery of the seminar venues also changed.
At first, there were tables and chairs. Then the tables disappeared, leaving only chairs. Eventually, even the chairs were removed, and everyone sat directly on the floor.
This was partly to accommodate more participants, but also because the nature of the seminars had shifted—from learning confined to desks to a more practical form of learning, in which each person engaged through their own physical body.
In that sense, tables and chairs had become unnecessary.
About five or six years after I had begun this learning, my body—which until then had been completely still, like a stone Jizō statue—began, little by little, to move… or rather, to burst into motion.
Because I had been so truly insensitive, my first reaction was one of excitement.
"It's happening! It's coming out!"—that was honestly how it felt.
The moment when I began to truly experience the immense energy within myself was during meditation directed toward the universe.
At that time, during the part of the seminar known as the "phenomenon session," everyone would raise their arms and spin their bodies around and around, feeling the energy they had directed toward the universe.
And from within me as well, it came—again and again.
As my body spun with great force, the energy I had long accumulated within myself burst forth and erupted outward.
In those days, when the format of the seminars centered on expressing and learning through one's own body the energy one was emitting, each session would leave us completely drenched in sweat and tears—so much so that we were busy changing clothes every time.
All of us, each with our own thoughts and emotions, moved as one mass toward Tomekichi Taike, with him at the center. Such a formation would arise again and again in the seminar hall.
In the midst of that pushing and pressing, if even one person had stumbled, there was a real danger that people would fall over one another in a chain, piling up into a serious situation.
And yet, no one had the time to think about such things.
At that time, each of us was simply desperate.
Everyone was desperate to feel, through their own physical body, the energy they had carried and cultivated within themselves.
That is why we all longed for the next seminar.
It was a feeling shared by everyone.
We were given such moments—moments that were, truly, nothing but gratitude.
No—
they were more than simply "grateful" moments.
Through my own body, I was allowed to experience the mystery and the wonder of the world of consciousness itself.
Why was it that, whenever I saw that utterly ordinary man, Tomekichi Taike, standing there at the seminar, something would begin to surge up from deep within my heart?
"Surge up"—no, it was nothing so mild.
Each time I saw him, I felt an energy so intense it seemed as though it would break through this physical body of mine.
The mere fact that he was there filled me with an unbearable sense of frustration.
He said nothing—he simply stood there.
And yet, how violently my heart was torn apart by that presence.
He was just an elderly man.
Why?
There was no logic to it.
Together with a cry that rose up from the depths of my being—almost like a scream—the tremendous energy would burst forth in an instant, directed straight toward Tomekichi Taike.
It was nothing but a continuous stream of "Damn you, Taike."
I could not make sense of it at all.
And yet, at the same time, tears would begin to flow uncontrollably.
Why was it that, at the sight of him, such anger would surge forth—
and yet tears would overflow?
There was nothing I could explain.
Even so, I had no desire to ask anyone about it, nor did I feel the need for anyone to explain it to me.
And even when I released such destructive, overwhelming energy, I felt almost no embarrassment, no fear, no concern about how far it might go.
Looking back now, although I could not explain it, perhaps I had already known.
The more I released that tremendous energy, the more what resonated within my heart was something deeply comforting.
Along with a sense of repentance, a gentle warmth rose up from the depths of my being and filled my heart.
The tears that flowed without end were not tears of frustration.
I came to feel, quite deeply, that tears are what flow when one is truly happy—when one is truly experiencing joy.
I have had countless experiences like this.
Again and again, I felt the energy within me rise up against Tomekichi Taike.
And that feeling—so intense it was as if I wanted to kill him—eventually led me to actually reach out and seize his neck.
The scene remains in my memory as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
Whenever I recall it, I am struck by the sheer audacity of what I did.
After all, within the seminar, Tomekichi Taike was the central figure.
For those who had long placed their faith in external powers, he must have seemed like someone beyond reach—almost an object of worship.
Even though such idolization is entirely mistaken, it would be unthinkable, in ordinary terms, for someone to attempt to strangle such a person in public.
And yet, the consciousness within me was shouting in unison, "Kill Taike."
In that moment, that feeling expressed itself directly as action.
I came to feel that consciousness is honest.
And more than that, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude that such a chance had been given to me.
Many have learned under Tomekichi Taike, but I believe I am the only one who has ever wrapped both hands around his neck and attempted to strangle him.
I was given such an extraordinary—and in my own way, deeply fortunate—opportunity.
And yet, apart from meeting at the seminar venue, Tomekichi Taike and I had no connection whatsoever.
There was no relationship between us in physical terms.
And still, why did such powerful feelings burst forth from within me?
It was both mysterious and, in some strange way, understandable.
At first, I did not know.
But gradually, not in my head but in my heart, I came to understand that I was responding to the world that flowed through the physical form of Tomekichi Taike.
The frustration was so intense it felt as if my insides were boiling over, and not knowing what to do with it, I hurled abuse at him.
I imagine my eyes at that time must have been quite something.
Simply seeing him would bring forth a cry from deep within me—almost like a scream.
This was something my mind could never comprehend.
There was no way to explain it—
and yet it undeniably happened.
At that point, there was no other way for me to understand it except to accept that I was energy.
This was not a matter of logic.
Time and again, I experienced energy rising up from within my body and instantly expressing itself through my physical form.
When I later reflected on the time when I had been completely still, like a stone Jizō statue, I realized that I had been desperately trying to suppress that energy from breaking through my body.
The force that tried to hold it down was many times—tens of times—stronger than the energy trying to burst out.
And then, something within me suddenly became clear.
"Ah, this was it. This is what had been causing the suffering."
At that moment, something inside me became lighter.
And then new questions arose.
"Why do I try to suppress the energy that is trying to emerge?"
I felt the coldness within myself.
"When I see Tomekichi Taike, why does that tightness begin to loosen?"
"Do I, in fact, already know the world of Tomekichi Taike?"
With each seminar, I found myself encountering realizations, new questions, and various challenges that I presented to myself.
Especially in those earlier days, when I was still so insensitive, I made every effort—through trial and error—to become more receptive.
Each task that arose during the seminars, I worked through in my own way.
I would record the seminar sessions, listen to them again at night before going to sleep, and prepare for the next day.
After returning home, I would listen to them repeatedly until the next seminar.
I spared no effort.
I truly listened to those recordings again and again in those days—first taking in the sound through my ears, passing it through my mind.
And alongside that, I also wrote down, in my notebooks, all the thoughts and feelings I had directed toward my mother.
Of course, these accumulations were important.
And yet, in truth, my deepest reflection on my mother did not come from those efforts alone.
It was, ultimately, within the "phenomenon sessions" at the seminar venue that this reflection truly took place.
Fortunately, I was able to learn together with my mother—the one who gave birth to me.
For me, this was something truly blessed.
This was because, within the seminar space, I was able to directly feel the immense, destructive energy I had cultivated over time—the energy of reliance on external powers, and the fierce resistance with which I had opposed the warmth of my mother.
The fact that my mother's physical presence was there at the seminar was, for me, extremely significant.
Through that one physical form, I was able to recognize and feel the tremendous energy within me that had been in complete opposition to the consciousness of my mother—her warmth.
This, in essence, was what "reflection on my mother" truly meant.
I was allowed to feel, from the depths of my being, the thoughts I had directed toward my mother—thoughts through which I had rejected her, denied her, and, in a sense, "killed" her again and again.
And I experienced this not just once, but repeatedly, within the seminar setting.
This was not something limited to my relationship with my mother in this lifetime. It went far beyond such a narrow frame.
The thoughts I had directed toward the consciousness of my mother—toward that warmth—were overwhelming.
They were like the groaning cries from the very depths of hell.
Through the physical presence of Tomekichi Taike, and through the physical presence of my mother, I was able to fully bring forth what lay within me.
It was as if the lid of hell had been opened, and from within me, one after another, tremendous energies surged forth.
In that sense, I feel that the role of the physical body is extremely great.
And yet, that energy was not merely chaotic or destructive.
What came through those energies, pouring out one after another, was something entirely different from the harsh words that accompanied them.
A feeling of joy—of deep joy—and at the same time, an overwhelming sense of remorse began to spread within my heart.
I came to feel that I was being accepted completely, unconditionally.
And upon touching that feeling, all that remained within me was repentance.
There is no greater warmth than to be accepted without condition.
There is no greater happiness, no greater joy.
I now look back with a sense of tenderness and nostalgia on those times when, through this physical body, I was allowed to fully release the consciousness that had gone astray.
Those moments and that space—
I can only say, thank you.
Countless consciousnesses rejoice from the depths of the heart.
Through a single physical body, I was able to express everything, completely and without restraint.
How much of the energy I had accumulated in the past—the dark energy—was released through this body.
It was all part of my own plan, and I was given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I had the physical strength and the mental capacity to endure it.
Within the "phenomenon sessions" of the seminars, I was given many such opportunities.
To experience the world of consciousness through the physical body was extraordinary.
Again and again, I experienced moments when, amidst overwhelming energy, a deep sense of joy and gratitude arose within me for having been given this one physical body in this lifetime.
Of course, there was repentance—but more than that, I felt that everything begins here.
That is how I could not help but feel.
And now, as I reflect upon those times in meditation, I look back on them with both nostalgia and tenderness.
The world of consciousness can never be understood through the intellect.
To be allowed to feel and receive it through this present physical form—there could be no greater joy.
I feel as though I have gained a vast treasure.
Everything has come to connect to my own joy.
That is what the seminar space was.
It was a place where I was allowed to feel immense energy,
and at the same time, to rediscover within my heart the embrace of the Mother—who simply and completely receives that energy.
To have shared such a space, through this physical body together with the physical form of Tomekichi Taike—
At the time, and even now, and into the future,
this is something that continues to expand within me as a deep and certain joy.
I can feel nothing but gratitude that the true consciousness known as Tomekichi Taike took on a physical form and created such a place of learning through the seminars.
Despite the immense energy that had once driven me into distortion, I was able to move forward without losing myself.
I did not become mentally unstable.
I was able to proceed along the path I had planned.
This was because I was able to come into this learning at the right time, and because there was an environment in which I could learn intensively.
In that sense as well, I feel deeply blessed.
Everything has unfolded within the flow of consciousness.
"A consciousness that awakened because it was meant to awaken,
a consciousness that had to awaken—
all of this arose inevitably from the flow of consciousness in which the true consciousness of Tomekichi Taike took on a physical form.
I receive it all simply and with quiet acceptance."
In this way, I made full use of each seminar.
Comparing one seminar to the next—how I had been before, and how I was now—I continued to attend, examining myself in my own way.
Of course, there was great support from Tomekichi Taike.
Within the time and space of the seminars, I was given opportunities from every possible angle.
I found such joy in attending seminars that my entire life came to revolve around them.
That is why I could not understand why anyone, having been given the chance to attend such extraordinary seminars in this lifetime, would begin to distance themselves from them.
Of course, each person may have their own circumstances.
It was never a matter of saying that one must attend every seminar.
But even so, I believe that with some effort, it should have been possible to attend at least once in a while.
To have long gaps during the period in which the seminars were being held—
I cannot help but question what that means.
It is something I simply cannot understand.
And if that is the case, then I feel that one must reflect deeply on that point, rather than leaving it vague or unresolved.
In essence, when we speak of Tomekichi Taike, we are speaking of the seminars.
It is impossible to speak of him without them.
That is why I have written at length about my experiences within the seminars.
At the seminar venue, through his physical presence, Tomekichi Taike conveyed to us that the world of consciousness truly exists—right here.
Those of us, myself included, who have learned together with him over a long period of time, have already come to feel in our own hearts how precious and fulfilling those seminars were as moments and as a shared space.
At the same time, we also understand, as a matter of reality, that the seminars of that time can no longer be recreated.
To fully experience and come to know the energy one is emitting through one's own physical body—this was a form of learning that was only possible in those days.
That is indeed true.
Then what about those who were not able to share that time and space?
There are those who have only recently come into this learning, and those who will begin from here on.
There are also readers of The Flow of Consciousness series.
For such people, considering the present situation—where the seminars have, in effect, come to an end, and gatherings such as the UTA meetings are held only a few times a year—it may not be possible to follow the same path of learning as many of us did.
However, there is no need for concern.
Now, the foundation—the ground for learning through which one can encounter and come to know the truth—is firmly established.
If there are those among the newer learners who truly wish to engage in this learning, we are fully able to respond to that intention.
This book itself has been written with that very wish in mind.
However, there is one essential condition.
Those individuals must, in their own way, be practicing the observation of their own heart.
If that is the case, then naturally, it can be assumed that they have at least read The Flow of Consciousness and The Flow of Consciousness – Continued, which were mentioned earlier.
Tomekichi Taike is not someone who offers fortune-telling or serves as a counselor for personal problems.
To begin with, unless a person is someone who constantly reflects on their own life—asking themselves whether the way they are living now is truly right—it is unlikely that they would even come across this book.
And even if the book were handed to them, or they were encouraged to read it, it would be difficult for them to truly understand what is written here.
Those who do not know what it means to observe their own heart—or who have no practice of doing so—will inevitably try to understand this book through their intellect alone.
When they hear the name Tomekichi Taike, they will first try to learn about his background, and from that information, they will begin to form various interpretations.
In this way, they attempt to understand his world from the outside.
If this book were filled with mysterious or extraordinary anecdotes about Tomekichi Taike, expressed in a way that seems almost supernatural, then it might be easier for such readers to approach.
However, even then, they would simply conclude that he is "a mysterious person"—and stop there.
Their understanding would remain confined within a very narrow scope.
In the end, they would regard him as little more than a fortune-teller or a source of advice, and he would become an object of idolization.
That is completely contrary to my intention, and therefore this book has not been written in such a way.
In fact, I have heard people say that The Flow of Consciousness series is difficult.
That cannot be helped.
To tell those who try to understand everything with their intellect that "it is difficult precisely because you are trying to understand it intellectually" does not change anything.
What Tomekichi Taike conveys is not something that can be understood by the intellect.
And yet, because people insist on trying to grasp it with their minds, they dismiss it as vague, self-centered, or even unrealistic.
However, for those who sincerely face their own way of living—their very mode of existence—and who truly seek to know themselves,
I can say with certainty that the world of Tomekichi Taike will fully respond to that intention.
In other words, before asking whether this is brainwashing or blind belief,
you must first look into your own heart.
If you do so, you will come to understand.
Those who have, in some way, come to know what it means to observe the heart—and who truly reflect on the thoughts they have carried—will inevitably find that their entire view of life begins to change.
I can say this with certainty.
I simply hope that as many people as possible will come to know what it means to look into their own heart,
and that they will put it into practice.
And I hope that they will begin to feel, in their own heart, why they exist here now in a physical body.
That is all I wish for.
In the end, whether one attends many seminars or few, everything comes down to the individual.
What matters is how sincerely and seriously one engages with oneself.
Even if someone has attended seminars, without that sincerity, they will not encounter their true self.
On the other hand, even if someone has not attended seminars,
or if in this lifetime their learning comes only through books,
there will be those who, through the next life, and the one after that, come to awaken to the world of truth.
The opportunity to encounter truth is given equally to all.
Whether that opportunity is realized or lost depends entirely on oneself—
this is what the world of Tomekichi Taike conveys.
As for myself, I came to attend seminars through a certain event, and there I was able to learn.
That was my plan.
I simply carried out the plan I had set for myself.
That was my wish—my intention.
And because of that, in this lifetime, I was able to make use of the opportunity to encounter truth.
And what about you?
That is the question.
I would add, however, that the time of future incarnations will be a severe and demanding one.
This is because all consciousness is moving within a plan to come into contact with the world of truth.
Tomekichi Taike taught us the greatness and significance of the mother's existence.
He told us that the first place to begin is by reflecting on our mother—on what kinds of thoughts we have directed toward the mother who gave birth to us, what kind of attitudes we have shown her from childhood up to the present, what kinds of words we have spoken to her, and what kinds of feelings we have continually sent toward her.
In other words, he taught us that reflection on the mother is of the utmost importance.
That is where we are to begin.
Whether we dislike our mother, look down on her, worship her, ignore her, or think of her as a servant, every person expresses their feelings toward their mother directly.
That is what a mother is: someone toward whom we can express ourselves directly.
And in order for us to look honestly at the thoughts that rise straight out of us, the mother may say or do foolish things.
Please do not get caught up in the person of the mother herself.
Human beings are all foolish.
Keeping that in mind, if we simply begin by looking at the thoughts that arise in our own heart, then perhaps we will gradually come to see our own foolishness.
To become aware of one's own foolishness—that is what it means to observe the heart.
If someone has continued, with quiet determination, to repeat this in daily life, and then reads this book again, I believe that person will begin to say, "Ah, I see."
Without the practice of observing the heart, if one tries to know the world of truth by relying only on knowledge and common sense, it will end in vain.
And not only that—doubt and suspicion will continue to grow, and in the end, one will remain trapped within dependence on external powers.
If one wishes to come to know in the heart the world that Tomekichi Taike has conveyed, there is only practice.
If one continues that practice, one will naturally begin to feel, "I would like to attend a seminar," or, "I hear Tomekichi Taike is already elderly, but I would like to meet him at least once."
And if someone who has come to feel that way arrives at the seminar venue, that person will never be disappointed.
On the other hand, someone who has read the books and come to the seminar but has no practice of observing the heart will still try to understand everything with the intellect.
As a result, such a person will conclude that it is all full of contradictions and makes no sense, and will leave the venue before long.
Since the motive for coming to the seminar was entirely different from the beginning, that is neither strange nor surprising—it is simply the action that was bound to happen.
As I wrote earlier, the human heart is packed full of the energy of reliance on external powers.
Those who do not practice observing the heart naturally do not understand this, and therefore they go through life without ever realizing that it is they themselves who are preventing themselves from stepping into the world of truth.
To you who have picked up this book, I sincerely hope that you will not remain one of those people.
I myself once had absolutely no doubt that the visible world, the world of form, was the real world.
I was someone who believed in the power of the physical world.
It took me a long time to rise up and come into this learning.
But through the phenomena that arose within myself, I finally made the effort to look within.
And I believe that I have made full use of the opportunity I was given to come into this learning.
As one who learns the world of Tomekichi Taike, I have felt within myself an energy that keeps moving me forward.
The energy that drives this dark self of mine—the self that has been mistaken for so long—has been desperately trying to change me, to turn the world of my consciousness in the right direction.
That energy has moved this physical body.
And now, I feel deep tenderness for that energy.
I feel tenderness for myself.
The more I align my heart with the world of Tomekichi Taike and turn my thoughts toward it, the more tenderly I feel toward myself.
What flows from the world of Tomekichi Taike permeates my being.
Warm, warm warmth.
Gentle feeling.
The mother's gentle, gentle feeling.
That feeling loosens what is within me.
From within me comes the message, "Thank you, thank you."
This feeling of gratitude does not arise because I have been given something, or because someone has done something for me, or because I have been helped.
It is simply the joy and happiness that well up from within me as "Thank you, thank you."
I hope that as many people as possible will come to feel this joy and happiness.
The true you within you is gentle.
You are warmth itself.
That is why I hope you will meet, even if only a little, the feeling within yourself that was so desperately determined to widen this world of truth within the heart—and that brought this physical body into being.
Please simply feel, firmly in your heart, that you are here now.
If you truly feel that, you will naturally begin to understand how deeply you are already within happiness.
I am very happy now.
Truly happy.
Because I can call out, from my heart, "Mother."
Because I can call out "Mother" from the heart, I am able to feel myself.
I am able to feel the self that has gone on making mistakes.
There is no greater joy than this.
There is no more blessed moment than this.
And of course, it is not only I who feel this way.
"We who were born in this lifetime are fortunate.
We who were born in this lifetime and were able to come into this learning are fortunate."
I believe that many who are engaged in this learning are now surely widening this feeling within their hearts.
And when I think of those with whom I have been allowed to learn, the following message comes to mind:
Why did Tomekichi Taike hold seminars in this lifetime?
Because those who needed to learn had to learn in this lifetime.
Why did you come to the seminars in this lifetime?
Because you had to learn in this lifetime.
Perhaps that is what is being conveyed when we are told: please take one more step forward on your path.
Please make time for meditation.
Meditation.
Please cherish the time in which you come to feel yourself.
Now, although attending the seminars was a joy and seminars stood at the center of my life, it was never the case that I neglected or abandoned my ordinary daily life in order to attend them.
On the days when there was no seminar, I went properly to work, and my daily life was generally orderly and regular.
In order to attend a seminar, certain physical conditions are necessary.
One must have the money for lodging and transportation, the understanding and cooperation of those around one, and one's own health.
Only after arranging such conditions in one's own way can one truly learn.
There may have been people who borrowed money, or who forced their way past the opposition of those around them, or who hid the fact that they were attending seminars.
But I believe that such people are now seeing the results appropriate to those choices.
What comes forth is the result of having attended with dark feelings.
Even if someone repeatedly forced themselves and struggled in order to attend, that is not something that should simply be praised as diligence or as a strong desire to pursue the truth.
Strain will always show itself somewhere in the end.
Why?
Because the heart that tries to learn through force is desire.
And when one is full of desire, one may appear to be learning, but in truth it does not connect to genuine learning.
That is what I believe.
For example, one of the conditions for attending seminars is the economic issue of travel and lodging expenses.
If one is already an adult, a working member of society, and a member of a household, then I believe one ought to prepare that money oneself.
It is only natural to attend seminars within the range one can afford.
Borrowing money is out of the question, of course.
But even apart from that, what might be called parental goodwill or kindness can often have the opposite effect.
Why?
Because those who have had others pay for their seminar expenses often carry a certain dependence within themselves, and because of that dependence, they cannot drive themselves to the point where they must truly face and observe their own heart.
I am not speaking merely about where the money came from.
What I am saying is that such dependence prevents a person from turning squarely toward oneself, and that they do not realize this.
That is why, even when others have paid for them to learn, they cannot truly feel gratitude from the heart.
And with such a heart, no matter what they may feel, I do not believe they can ever touch the central path of this learning.
That is because coming to know the world of Tomekichi Taike is not something shallow or easy.
If someone truly intends to engage in this learning, then such outward conditions will gradually come into place.
If they do not, even after a long time, then that itself means that the direction in which that person is facing is not the world of Tomekichi Taike.
If one truly believes what Tomekichi Taike has said and sincerely turns in the direction he indicates, then first of all one's physical life will begin to be set in order.
Why is that?
Because one comes to understand that this learning requires a physical body—and not just any body, but a healthy one.
Tomekichi Taike himself is an utterly ordinary person.
Therefore, this learning is, in truth, a very ordinary kind of learning.
For example, even if someone is mentally unstable from the beginning, if that person truly wishes from the depths of the heart to change and be reborn, then even if it takes time, that mental state will surely become stable.
Without relying on medication, a normal pattern of life—waking in the morning and sleeping at night—will naturally become established.
And only then will such a person be able to begin truly observing themselves.
To see and hear unusual things before one has even begun this learning is a very dangerous state.
Even if someone sees, hears, and senses many things, and is sensitive in heart, that does not necessarily mean that they are moving toward the heart of this learning.
It is not simply because I myself was insensitive at first, but rather that, in many ways, those who are insensitive are easier to guide—and once they understand, they often understand quickly.
Of course, some people are sensitive and some are not.
But either way, simply to have a basically healthy body—a normal body—with which one can engage in this learning is already a great blessing.
That is what I believe.
Nothing special is needed.
If one simply and with quiet determination puts into practice what Tomekichi Taike has conveyed up to now, then this is a world that anyone can come to understand.
That is the world of Tomekichi Taike.
And so, for more than twenty years, Tomekichi Taike held seminars.
The world he speaks of is not something special or extraordinary.
A world that anyone can understand is, in truth, a world that everyone already knows.
And yet, we human beings have lived as though we did not know it.
We have abandoned the world of Tomekichi Taike and have pursued joy and happiness elsewhere—
in that sense, we have been truly foolish.
That is why, even now, people continue to join their hands in prayer to gods or buddhas,
or turn their hearts toward mysterious and unseen powers.
In time, we will come to experience for ourselves what kind of heart it is that wishes for peace and prosperity.
And through that experience, it will be made clear that only by coming to know the world of Tomekichi Taike can we arrive at true joy and happiness.
I have learned together with Tomekichi Taike, and I will continue to do so.
I understand that to come to know him is to come to know myself.
It is my wish that I might be able to convey, even to one more person,
the joy and happiness of feeling the world of vibrations that flows through the utterly ordinary physical form of Tomekichi Taike.
This is a world that everyone knows—
and yet has confined deep within their own heart.
I want people to realize this.
First of all, I want them to realize it.
In this lifetime, I encountered Tomekichi Taike, and through that encounter, I came to this realization.
And from here, I will continue to deepen my understanding of his world.
The world of Tomekichi Taike is infinite.
It is boundless, immeasurable, and filled with a steady, gentle warmth.
As one comes to know this world more and more, its vastness, its depth, and its warmth continue to expand.
And that, in the end, is none other than oneself.
That is why to turn one's thoughts toward Tomekichi Taike is itself a joy.
Everyone wishes to be happy.
Everyone wishes to feel joy.
There is no one who truly desires unhappiness.
The question, however, lies in the nature of that happiness and that joy.
The more one comes to know the world of Tomekichi Taike in one's own heart,
the more surely one will arrive at true happiness and true joy.
However, it is not enough simply to wish—
to wish to be happy, to wish to find joy, to wish to know his world.
At the beginning of learning, such wishes are, of course, natural—they are desire.
It takes many years before one comes to realize that one has been learning while still carrying that desire as it is.
And this realization is of great importance.
Without it, no matter how earnest one may appear outwardly, the heart remains bound to reliance on external powers.
What Tomekichi Taike has conveyed is exceedingly simple.
He uses no difficult or obscure language.
He has only ever said this:
"Look into your own heart."
What does it mean to observe the heart?
Who are you?
Why were you born?
Where does your joy and happiness truly lie?
What happens to you when you die?
Are there any difficult words in these questions?
And yet, not a single person has been able to answer them fully within their own heart.
One may be able to give correct answers as knowledge—
but the heart does not follow those answers.
Even after many years of learning, knowledge may accumulate.
But knowledge alone can never resolve this.
In a single word, it is vibration.
The world of Tomekichi Taike is a world of vibrations.
The only difficulty lies in how one receives those vibrations and allows them to expand within the heart.
And when that begins to be understood, one comes to feel that his world is infinite—
and that even the act of turning one's thoughts toward it is itself a joy.
One simply comes to feel happiness in knowing that such a world exists.
The world of consciousness has no limit.
The world of Tomekichi Taike has no limit.
To be able to feel this—
that alone is pure joy.
It is precisely because it has no end that it is happiness.
It is precisely because it is not complete that it is joy.
And so, within a world that expands endlessly and continues without end,
what spreads is nothing but the joy of being together within it.
That, and that alone, is what we call true happiness and joy.
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