I just celebrated my birthday this week. It might be the habit of a person settled into adulthood or something else: I caught myself recollecting the past as I celebrated my low-key birthday at home.
My teacher, Zen Master Venerable Yangil is 50 years older than me. When I just started formal practice under his tutelage, that five-decade difference made him seem ancient from my then early-20-something perspective. I was very interested in finding out how old he actually was, so I’d ask him, “Sunim, when is your birthday?”
He would answer, “Everyday is my birthday.”
Sometimes I would give it another try and follow up, “When were you born?”
“This morning.” He’d say, or sometimes he answered, “Right now.”
“That’s such a dodgy Zen answer.” I used to think and let the topic drop since it’s not polite to keep insisting. Now, seven years after the series of breakthrough experiences that led to my becoming Zen Master Yangil’s dharma heir, I also came to see that my everyday birthday really is everyday. The same goes for everybody.