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“Yoshi” Means Good in Our Dreams and Lives

Last night when I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking out
out in my heart…

—Anthony Machado, “Last Night When I Was Sleeping”

This morning I woke up from a dream that I had finished writing this note while sleeping. Though it seemed I was working on the note through the second half of the night, upon waking I couldn’t remember its contents, only that it was called “yoshi (吉).” In Japanese, yoshi means “good, good luck, or joy,” and there are at least five different kanji characters that read as yoshi.

I notice how often the word “good” appears in koans. Yunmen’s “good day,” Layman Pang’s “good snowflakes,” and Ching’s “good news” when a chick breaks out of its shell. Even “the whole world is medicine” and “Bodhisattvas, come eat your rice” have the feeling of generosity.

Yet we also live in Huineng’s world of “before thinking good or evil,” where a beautiful and essential light shines in all things. We can’t call that light “good”—that would make the world smaller because it is more than good: it drinks in the whole universe, both good and bad. So instead we call it “the nature,” and when we see the nature, we call that kensho.

During Open Temple this morning, my thoughts wandered to my friend’s husband, who died last week. He had been diagnosed with cancer three years go and it was in check, and then suddenly it wasn’t. He was a good man, a very good man, and funny. As a child he was chosen to be the spokes-kid for Oscar Meyer, riding the Wienermobile. And now, like a dream, he is gone. But his memory remains. It is yoshi.

—Jon Joseph

Machado’s poem continues:

I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night as I slept,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.   

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Jon Joseph Roshi, Director of San Mateo Zen Community