You Have to Say Something: Manifesting Zen Insight

by Dainin Katagiri

Book Overview

Dainin Katagiri (1928-1990) was a central figure in the transmission of Zen in America. His first book, Returning to Silence, emphasized the need to return to our original, enlightened state of being, and became one of the classics of Zen in America. In You Have to Say Something, selections from his talks have been collected to address another key theme of Katagiri's teaching: that of bringing Zen insight to bear on our everyday experience...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 1570624623
• ISBN13: 9781570624629
• Release Date: January 2000
• Publisher: Shambhala
• Length: 192 Pages
• Weight: 0.55 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.4" x 5.5" x 8.5"

Customer Reviews

Yakety Yak Zen

YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING is Katagiri-roshi's cheerful follow-up to his Returning to Silence (Shambhala Dragon Editions). No "heavyweight" Zen here, this is just a collection of Katagiri's teisho (teachings) presented in the form of short, pithy, and humorous discourses. It's a quick read (I started and finished it while waiting for new reading glasses at the optometrist's, about a three hour wait) that invites deeper and more contemplative perusals---a single reading is worth hours of reflection. A wonderful book for both the committed practitioner and the newcomer, this comes highly recommended.

A master guide for a peaceful life!

One of the 10 best books I have ever read. Regardless of whichever point of your spiritual journey you are at, this book will provide the blueprint for a peaceful life.

A gem

Clear and concise, this book is one to carry with you any time. Katagiri beautifully elucidates right thinking and action in a compassionate, encouraging manner. Whenever I pick up this book I feel nourished and called to be a better person.

clean, concise, and pithy edited versions of Katagiri-lectur

YOU HAVE TO SAY SOMETHING: Manifesting Zen Insight by Dainin Katagiri with editing by Steve Hagen Published by Shambala, 1998Reviewed by Keith Wiger: Reviewed for the Anchorage Zen Community NewsletterI am a thoroughly biased reviewer of this recently-released collection of Katagiri Roshi lectures. Having identified Roshi as my teacher some twenty-five years ago, I count myself as one his surviving dharma-heirs. To have another collection of his writings is to have access to a part of the treasure that was his embodied teachings. I savor these short pithy pieces, enjoying the places they take me as I digest the various morsels. It's as though I once again am able to be with Roshi, and listen to his unique speech as he expounds on an obscure koan.A couple of Roshi's students have recently published books that describe their relationships with him. Natalie Goldberg's Long Quiet Highway and Eric Storlie's Nothing on my Mind are personal accounts of Roshi's influence on their lives. I have read these accounts with great interest, curious in their descriptions and experiences if they had met the same man that I did. These accounts are secondary sources of the dharma as taught by Roshi---almost like listening in on the private interviews of a teacher and student. Reading the various lectures contained in this collection is a more direct link to his teaching. I first met Roshi in 1974, and began attending his Saturday morning lectures at the Minnesota Zen Center soon thereafter. I often remember leaving these lectures with befuddlement. Three possibilites were conjured in these moments to explain my befuddled mind: 1. If only Roshi's Japoenglish were more clear and complete I would understand what he was saying; 2. He was talking nonsense that had little relevance to my life; 3. Something profoundly simple and unique had been uttered and I just didn't get it. Most often I would settle on the latter explanation, as I often felt something important was occurring for/in me in being there, regardless of my understanding.Frequently when I sit sesshin, I will come upon moments when auditory halluncinations of Roshi's voice arises within. I will vividly hear his gravelly voice intoning one of his simple and oft-repeated phrases like, "Just sit up straight; that's all you have to do." Images appear of him running his hand over his monk-bald head as he searches for a word to explain his meaning. I secretly welcome these visits. I smile in appreciation for his continued presence. Reading this collection of essays is akin to hearing his voice; simple, direct eloquent statements of encouragement to engage with this present moment.I recall visiting Roshi in 1988 as his first collection of lectures was about to be released. He gave me a copy of Returning to Silence, and with an impish smile, and slyly w