As an arts and entertainment journalist in the 1980s and 90s, I enjoyed perks such as season tickets to all the major performing arts productions in New York City as well as opportunities to attend exclusive special events. Among the most memorable were the Metropolitan Opera Guild’s open master classes at Julliard, where renowned teachers coached promising young singers as they endeavored to refine their art. One of the most unforgettable master classes I attended featured a remarkable young mezzo-soprano. Without prior instructions, she was asked to sing a beautiful French love song by Reynaldo Hahn, À Chloris. Her voice and presentation were delightful, and both the audience and teacher applauded warmly. After a pause, the teacher asked the singer if she had ever been in love with someone she was not supposed to love. Surprised by this question, the singer hesitated. “Why do you think this song is sung in pianissimo?” the teacher continued. The singer seemed uncertain, so the teacher explained: À Chloris is an impassioned confession of forbidden love. It must be sung almost in a whisper yet be charged with overwhelming emotion. This love is forbidden, but it can no longer be suppressed. Imagine seeing the one you love across a crowded room. You cannot be overheard, but if you stay silent, you might lose your only chance. You feel compelled to approach and confess your love, but you must do so in such a way that no one else hears. That is the essence of this song. There was a dramatic shift in the young singer’s facial expression and demeanor as the teacher’s meaning sank in and she suddenly “got it”. When she sang the song again, inspired by a deeper appreciation for its meaning and context, the transformation was astonishing. Her performance, now intimate and urgent, was so powerful it left me breathless. Sometimes, before a profound and subtle teaching can truly resonate with us, we need the help of an intermediary--someone who can bridge the gap between the written word and its deeper meaning. When we encounter this kind of teacher, what once seemed incomprehensible or vague can suddenly come alive and become immediately relevant. The first time I encountered Uchiyama Rōshi’s teachings, I knew instantly that he possessed the same profound mastery of his subject as the teacher of the master class at Julliard who had helped the young mezzo-soprano transform a love song into an unforgettable performance. With an intimate understanding of the meaning and context of Dōgen’s teachings, Uchiyama Rōshi was a true master of Buddhism, able to penetrate the depths of Dōgen’s writings and turn them into teachings that people living more than 800 years after Dōgen could connect with and apply to their everyday lives. Drawing on whatever was taking place around him--current events, social situations, and even his own illness and pains--Uchiyama Rōshi transformed Dōgen’s words into powerful medicine for contemporary people facing hardships and difficult times.