Koan Zen Quotes

When you paint Spring, do not paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots, but just paint Spring. To paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots is to paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots - it is not yet painting Spring.

that stone Buddha deserves all the birdshit it gets I wave my skinny arms like a tall flower in the wind

it isn't that we're alone or not alone whose voice do you want mine? yours?

I'd love to give you something but what would help?

we're lost where the mind can't find us utterly lost

Hearing a crow with no mouth Cry in the deep Darkness of the night, I feel a longing for My father before he was born.

clouds very high look not one word helped them get up there

don't wait for the man standing in the snow to cut off his arm help him now

born born everything is always born thinking about it try not to

When fishermen cannot go to sea, they repair nets.

You listen to people, you listen so deeply that you can hear their past lives, The crackle of their funeral pyres,

Every day Zuigan used to call out to himself, "Master!" and then he answered himself, "Yes, Sir!" And he added, "Awake, Awake!" and then answered, "Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!" "From now onwards, do not be deceived by others!" "No, Sir! I will not, Sir!"

A sand trap is like a politician in its duality. It represents two opposing viewpoints. You see, it was designed to trap your ball. So it exists to have balls land in it. But it was also designed to be avoided. So it also exists to not have balls land in it. This is the beauty of golf. The game of golf is a Zen koan in action.

I wrote a zen koan once about love, but it didn’t make any sense. That’s how I knew I had accurately described love.

Christopher, like most people, didn't like his universe being unfathomable, so I doubted that a Zen koan would help him.

I had worked for a newspaper of sorts, word got around, and I became editor of our local school newspaper, The Drum. I don't recall being given any choice in this matter; I think I was simply appointed. My second-in-command, Danny Emond, had even less interest in the paper than I did. Danny just liked the idea that Room 4, where we did our work, was near the girls' bathroom. "Someday I'll just go crazy and hack my way in there, Steve," he told me on more than one occasion. "Hack, hack, hack." Once he added, perhaps in an effort to justify himself: "The prettiest girls in school pull up their skirts in there." This struck me as so fundamentally stupid it might actually be wise, like a Zen Koan or an early story by John Updike.

[Once Ummon asked a lesser light Are you a gardener> Yes it replied Why have turnips no roots> Ummon asked the gardener who could not reply Because said Ummon rainwater is plentiful] I think about this for a moment. Ummon’s koan is not difficult now that I am regaining the knack of listening for the shadow of substance beneath the words. The little Zen parable is Ummon’s way of saying, with some sarcasm, that the answer lies within science and within the antilogic which scientific answers so often provide. The rainwater comment answers everything and nothing, as so much of science has for so long. As Ummon and the other Masters teach, it explains why the giraffe evolved a long neck but never why the other animals did not. It explains why humankind evolved to intelligence, but not why the tree near the front gate refused to.

Zhaozhou often quoted this saying by Sengcan: “The great way is not difficult if you just don’t pick and choose.

The function of the zazen and koan is to undo the system that contains them.

The koan is not a conundrum to be solved by a nimble wit. It is not a verbal psychiatric device for shocking the disintegrated ego of a student into some kind of stability. Nor, in my opinion, is it ever a paradoxical statement except to those who view it from outside. When the koan is resolved it is realized to be a simple and clear statement made from the state of consciousness which it has helped to awaken. —from The Zen Koan, by Ruth Fuller Sasaki

Still, the ground beneath me felt unsteady, as though at any moment it could shake and easily take me to the ground. I stumbled upon what Zen priest and author Susan Murphy calls the koan of the earth. How do we answer the riddle of our times? How do we sift through the shards of our broken culture, our fragmented psyches, and come once again into “our original undividedness and the freedom it bestows, right there in the suffocating fear itself.”90 This was the question at the heart of my despair, ripening in the vessel of my sorrow. What felt different this time was the interior experience of the grief and despair. It was not centered on personal losses—my history, wounds, losses, failures, and disappointments. It was arising from the greater pulse of the earth itself, winding its way through sidewalks and grocery lists, traffic snarls and utility bills. Somewhere in all the demands of modern life, the intimate link between earth and psyche was being reestablished or, more accurately, remembered. The conditioned fantasy of the segregated self was being dismantled, and I was being reunited, through the unexpected grace of fear, despair, and grief, with the body of the earth.

Wisteria hangs over the eaves like clumps of ghostly grapes. Euphorbia's pale blooms billow like sea froth. Blood grass twists upward, knifing the air, while underground its roots go berserk, goosing everything in their path. A magnolia, impatient with vulvic flesh, erupts in front of the living room window. The recovering terrorist--holding a watering can filled with equal parts fish fertilizer and water, paisley gloves right up over her freckled forearms, a straw hat with its big brim shading her eyes, old tennis shoes speckled with dew--moves through her front garden. Her face, she tells herself, like a Zen koan. The look of one lip smiling.

I decide to go outside to enjoy the weather. Out of the corner of my eye I see Thor pushing an empty wheelbarrow, and I wonder if it’s some sort of thought experiment. Either he just got done dumping mulch in the back yard, or this is a great set up for a Zen koan.

You need courage to find out what you really want in life, and what you want might be dangerous. But life is dangerous anyway, and there is a beauty in becoming more and more fully who you are, in paying attention to, as well as being pulled along by, your red thread.

A koan is like a riddle that’s supposed to help you toward enlightenment in Zen Buddhism. For my answer, I wrote about this guy Banzan. He was walking through the market on day when he overheard someone ask a butcher for his best piece of meat. The butcher answered, “Everything in my shop is the best. You cannot find a piece of meat that is not the best.” Upon hearing this, Banzan realized that there is no best and no worst, that those judgments have no real meaning because there is only was is, and poof, he reached enlightenment.

Cree que ser olvidada es un poco como volverse loca. Empiezas a preguntarte qué es real, si tú misma eres real. Después de todo, ¿cómo puede ser real algo si nadie es capaz de recordarlo? Es como ese koan Zen, el del árbol que cae en el bosque… Si nadie lo oyó caer, ¿ocurrió? Si alguien es incapaz de dejar una huella, ¿existe?

Beanpaste that smells like beanpaste is no good.

Great doubt: great awakening. Little doubt: little awakening. No doubt: no awakening.

live your way into the answer.1 —RAINER MARIA RILKE’S ADVICE TO A YOUNG POET

Does the cosmic space, we dissolve into, taste of us then?

how do you lead if you're being followed?

It’s like that Zen koan, the one about the tree falling in the woods. If no one heard it, did it happen? If a person cannot leave a mark, do they exist?

humanity’s propensity for error, every glass ever broken in all the Jewish weddings of history, a cymbal crash marking the death of God, a metaphorical token akin to the flash of insight produced by a Zen koan—and on and on.VI

What is the significance of Zen?" Hotei immediately plopped his sack down on the ground in silent answer. "Then," asked the other, "what is the actualization of Zen?" At once the Happy Chinaman swung the sack over his shoulder and continued on his way.

French Impressionist artist Paul Gauguin would never have become Gauguin if he had not followed this principle. He was a bank employee for a good part of his life, until the day he decided he was an artist. That day he left the bank and became a genius painter.

It’s true though, that the impulse to give freely to the world seems to be at the bottom of the well of human intentions where the purest and clearest water arises. To be able to offer back what the world has given you, but shaped a little by your touch—that makes a true life.

Zen Koans The koan is an enigmatic or paradoxical question used to develop a person’s Intuition.  Koans are a valuable tool in your quest for enlightenment, but how do they work and why use them? Koans work by confounding logic and forcing a person out of their normal thinking and into the realm of Intuition. In other words, the inherent meaning is inaccessible to rational understanding, but perhaps accessible to Intuition. This book presents some of the classic koans from traditional Zen, originally written hundreds of years ago in Japanese, and re-interpreted from early English translations into early 21st Century English. The underlying meaning is still there, so they will still work as a koan should, but they are expressed in language more easily understood by people in the 21st Century. Each koan encapsulates a profound truth for reflection. Zen counsels the lessening of the ego, not the strengthening of it as consumer culture would urge. Instead of making a name for ourselves in society, we should listen to the voice of pines and cedars when no wind stirs, in other words become no-thing, entering instead the field of pure being that is behind the phenomenal world.

[T]he koan is only a piece of brick used to knock at the gate, an index-finger pointing at the moon. It is only intended to synthesize or transcend—whichever expression you may choose—the dualism of the senses. So long as the mind is not free to perceive a sound produced by one hand, it is limited and is divided against itself. Instead of grasping the key to the secrets of creation, the mind is hopelessly buried in the relativity of things, and, therefore, in their superficiality. Until the mind is free from the fetters, the time never comes for it to view the whole world with any amount of satisfaction.

Here lies the value of the Zen discipline, as it gives birth to the unshakable conviction that there is something indeed going beyond mere intellection. The wall of koan once broken through and the intellectual obstructions well cleared off, you come back, so to speak, to your everyday relatively constructed consciousness. [...] Zen is now the most ordinary thing in the world. A field that we formerly supposed to lie far beyond is now found to be the very field in which we walk, day in, day out. When we come out of satori we see the familiar world with all its multitudinous objects and ideas together with their logicalness, and pronounce them "good".

He hadn't encountered a single soul on his run. This wasn't a popular part of the wood. You could probably die here and not be found for weeks. If ever. The same was true for a tree, he supposed. If a tree fell in the forest and there was no one to hear it, did it make a sound? Although it sounded like a Zen koan (yes, he knew the word "koan"), really it was a scientific question, to do with vibration and air pressure and the physiology of the ear. If a man fell in the forest--? He went flying, tripping on a tree root that had been waiting in hiding to ambush him and exact revenge for his ignorance. More punishment for his knees. At least there was no one around to see his pratfall, although if he listened carefully Jackson thought he could hear the sound of one hand clapping.

A Cup of Tea Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen. Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!" "Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?

Un samurái le pidió a su maestro que le explicara la diferencia entre el cielo y el infierno. Sin responderle, el maestro se puso a dirigirle gran cantidad de insultos. Furioso, el samurái desenvaino su sable para decapitarle. -He aquí el infierno- dijo el maestro antes que el samurái pasara a la acción. El guerrero impresionado por la respuesta del maestro se calmo al instante y volvió a enfundar el sable. Al hacer este último gesto, el maestro añadió: -He aquí el cielo.

Now I was interested in difficult, gritty fictions, in large, expansive novels, in social realism. I was interested in Pynchon, Amis, Dos Passos. I was interested in Faulkner and Didion and Bowles, writers whose bleak, relentless styles stood in stark opposition to what I imagined Salinger to be: insufferably cute, aggressively quirky, precious. I had no interest in Salinger’s fairy tales of Old New York, in precocious children expounding on Zen koans or fainting on sofas, exhausted by the tyranny of the material world. […] I didn’t want to be entertained. I wanted to be provoked.

82. Nothing Exists Yamaoka Tesshu, as a young student of Zen, visited one master after another. He called upon Dokuon of Shokoku. Desiring to show his attainment, he said: "The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings, after all, do not exist. The true nature of phenomena is emptiness. There is no realization, no delusion, no sage, no mediocrity. There is no giving and nothing to be received." Dokuon, who was smoking quietly, said nothing. Suddenly he whacked Yamaoka with his bamboo pipe. This made the youth quite angry. "If nothing exists," inquired Dokuon, "where did this anger come from?

The principle of avoiding conflict and never opposing an aggressor’s strength head-on is the essence of aikido. We apply the same principle to problems that arise in life. The skilled aikidoist is as elusive as the truth of Zen; he makes himself into a koan—a puzzle which slips away the more one tries to solve it. He is like water in that he falls through the fingers of those who try to clutch him. Water does not hesitate before it yields, for the moment the fingers begin to close it moves away, not of its own strength, but by using the pressure applied to it. It is for this reason, perhaps, that one of the symbols for aikido is water.

One way to evaluate our practice is to see whether life is more and more OK with us. And of course it’s fine when we can’t say that, but still it is our practice. When something’s OK with us we accept everything we are with it; we accept our protest, our struggle, our confusion, the fact that we’re not getting anywhere according to our view of things. And we are willing for all those things to continue: the struggle, the pain, the confusion. In a way that is the training of sesshin. As we sit through it an understanding slowly increases: “Yes, I’m going through this and I don’t like it—wish I could run out—and somehow, it’s OK.” That increases. For example: you may enjoy life with your partner, and think, “Wow, this is the one for me!” Suddenly he or she leaves you; the sharp suffering and the experience of that suffering is the OKness. As we sit in zazen, we’re digging our way into this koan, this paradox which supports our life. More and more we know that whatever happens, and however much we hate it, however much we have to struggle with it—in some way it’s OK. Am I making practice sound difficult? But practice is difficult. And strangely enough, those who practice like this are the people who hugely enjoy life, like Zorba the Greek. Expecting nothing from life, they can enjoy it. When events happen that most people would call disastrous, they may struggle and fight and fuss, but still they enjoy—it’s OK.

Reading while listening to the sounds of birds and the rush of water. This is the way of life that has come to be idealized. Don't think of unpleasant things right before bed. A five minute "bed zazen" before going to sleep. People who do their best to enjoy what is before them have the greatest chance to discover inner peace. Often, whatever it is they are enjoying - the thing before them - has the potential to turn into an opportunity. Stop dismissing whatever it is that you are doing and start living. Seek not what you lack. Be content with the here and now. When you are uncertain, simplicity is the best way to go. Conscientious living begins with early to bed, early to rise. This is the secret to a life of ease and contentment. Don't be bound by a single perspective. There is more than just "the proper way". Possibility springs from confidence. When someone criticizes us, we immediately feel wounded. When something unpleasant happens, we cannot get it out of our head. What can we do to bounce back? One way to strengthen the mind is though cleaning. When we clean, we use both our head and our body. Recognize the luxury of not having things. Desire feeds upon itself and the mind becomes dominated by boundless greed. This is not happiness. The three poisons are greed, anger and ignorance. Be grateful for every day, even the most ordinary. The happiness to be found in the unremarkable. Your mind has the power to decide whether or not you are happy. There is not just one answer. The meaning behind Zen koans. When there are things we want to do, we must do them as if our lives depend on it. Time spent out of character is empty time.

sophisticated reader that he is simply referring to magical aspects of sexual activity that were bound to be misunderstood by the general public anyway. His attitude being: if only a handful of individuals will ever understand what is being written, write it in such a way that it will never go out of print. The modern reader must also bear in mind that the transcendent nature of spiritual subject matter often can only be represented by images terrible and strange. Language is not representative of reality. That Crowley was a master of metaphor is unarguable. But what is more significant is his ability to utilize words and images in the same manner as the Zen Master's Koan; expressing what appears technically to be a logical formula of language in such a way as to force the mind of the reader to deal with realities that transcend logic. The Hindu Goddess

Zen can be seen as having a special kind of structure with basic demands that are structural demands and therefore open to scientific investigation—and the more it can seem to have a definite character to be grasped and “understood.” When Zen is studied in this way, it is seen in the context of Chinese and Japanese history. It is seen as a product of the meeting of speculative Indian Buddhism with practical Chinese Taoism and even Confucianism. It is seen in the light of the culture of the T’ang dynasty, and the teachings of various “houses.” It is related to other cultural movements. It is studied in its passage into Japan and its integration into Japanese civilization. And then a great deal of things about Zen come to seem important, even essential. The Zendo or meditation hall. The Zazen sitting. The study of the Koan. The costume. The lotus seat. The bows. The visits to the Roshi and the Roshi’s technique for determining whether one has attained Kensho or Satori, and helping one to do this. Zen, seen in this light, can then be set up against other religious structures—for instance that of Catholicism, with its sacraments, its liturgy, its mental prayer (now no longer practised by many), its devotions, its laws, its theology, its Bible; its cathedrals and convents; its priesthood and its hierarchical organization; its Councils and Encyclicals.

Buddhist meditation takes this untrained, everyday mind as its natural starting point, and it requires the development of one particular attentional posture—of naked, or bare, attention. Defined as “the clear and single-minded awareness of what actually happens to us and in us at the successive moments of perception,”1 bare attention takes this unexamined mind and opens it up, not by trying to change anything but by observing the mind, emotions, and body the way they are. It is the fundamental tenet of Buddhist psychology that this kind of attention is, in itself, healing: that by the constant application of this attentional strategy, all of the Buddha’s insights can be realized for oneself. As mysterious as the literature on meditation can seem, as elusive as the koans of the Zen master sometimes sound, there is but one underlying instruction that is critical to Buddhist thought. Common to all schools of thought, from Sri Lanka to Tibet, the unifying theme of the Buddhist approach is this remarkable imperative: “Pay precise attention, moment by moment, to exactly what you are experiencing, right now, separating out your reactions from the raw sensory events.” This is what is meant by bare attention: just the bare facts, an exact registering, allowing things to speak for themselves as if seen for the first time, distinguishing any reactions from the core event.

CONFESSIONS OF A CLING-ON If a man is walking in a forest and makes a statement, but there is no woman around to hear it, is he still wrong? Or if a woman is walking in the forest and asks for something, and there is no man around to hear her, is she still needy? These Zen koans capture some of the frustrations people have with the opposite gender. And where is the dividing line between someone simply having a need, and someone being a needy person? Is it written in heaven somewhere what is too much need, too little need and just right amount of need for the “normal person?” Ask pop radio psychologists Dr. Laura, or Sally Jessie Rafael, or any number of experts who claim to know for sure, and you’ll get some very different answers. And isn’t it fun to see the new sophisticated ways our advanced culture is developing to make each other wrong? You better keep up with the latest technical terminology or you will be at the mercy of those who do. Whoever has read the latest most recent self-help book has the clear advantage. Example: Man: “Get real, would you! Your Venusian codependency has got you trapped in your learned helpless victim act, and indulging in your empowerment phobia again.” Woman: “When you call me codependent, I feel (notice the political correctness of the feeling word) that you are simply projecting your own disowned, unintegrated, emotionally unavailable Martian counterdependency to protect your inner ADD two year old from ever having to grow up. So there!” Speaking of diagnosis, remember the codependent. Worrying about codependency was like a virus that everyone had from about 1988 to 1994. Here’s a prayer to commemorate the codependent: The Codependent’s Prayer by Kelly Bryson Our Authority, which art in others, self-abandonment be thy name. Codependency comes when others’ will is done, At home, as it is in the workplace. give us this day our daily crumbs of love. And give us a sense of indebtedness, As we try to get others to feel indebted to us. And lead us not into freedom, but deliver us from awareness. For thine is the slavery and the weakness and the dependency, For ever and ever. Amen.

When I am silent it seems that nothing is happening, but everything is happening. Nothing ever stops happening. Everything is happening. To see into this is a way of melting down this carapace, this shell, of what we call existence.

The koan describes three monks watching a banner flutter in the breeze. One monk observes, "The banner is moving," but the second insists, "The wind is moving.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?”.

Why do the numbers on a phone go down, while the numbers on a calculator go up?

Why is it when you are transporting something by car it is a shipment, but when you transport something by ship it is a cargo?

If you try to fail and succeed which have you done?

What is your original face, before your mother and father were born?

I met a man of Zen once”, said the snake, “and he gave a koan “Coal is black says the Englishman. I protest; coal is not black.

Le zen est loin d’être un exercice passif, car le Koan une lutte mentale et spirituelle des plus âpres, exigeant du disciple ce que les maîtres désignent par un grand esprit d’investigation.

If you are busy thinking that you should be kind, you might miss the reality that kindness is already present, in you.

When a problem is intractable and you cannot conceive of a solution to it, you will just have to live through it without a neat story about how it is to be solved.

Since joy might be hiding anywhere, you would be willing to look with curiosity at sadness or fear, just in case.

Oh, Buenos Aires, I have traveled around the world, but I’ve never been separated from you,” said Argentine poet Jorge Luis Borges. And Saint Thomas said, “A friendship that can end has never been a true friendship.” In

It’s not enough to quote someone; it’s important to specify what aspect of that person you’re referencing. Every time we talk about someone, we speak of that person as if our perception is the same for everyone. When

We may overindulge at times, but we then control ourselves and go back to a more moderate diet. There is a mudra that illustrates this situation quite well: “If the animal leaves the flock, I take it back to the flock. If it leaves again, I take it back again.” Spiritual

If you understand, things are just as they are. If you do not understand, things are just as they are.

Koans take the art of questioning into the realm of practice. Koans are questions that emerge from dualistic, conceptual mind. Yet we cannot answer them in the same way in which we asked them. In search of an answer they take us beyond the mind of objectification. We usually associate koans with Zen practice. Perhaps Zen practitioners got the idea of koan practice from the Buddha himself.

Physics joined linguistics, mathematics and psychology in this metaprogramming hall of mirrors when Schrödinger demonstrated that quantum events are not "objective” in the Newtonian sense. For fifty years since then, physicists have been struggling to build a system that will get them out of this Strange Loop. The results have been as funny as a Zen koan.

Who is the Master who makes the grass green?" (Zen koan)

Shōbō-genzō: Genjō Kōan (Actualizing the Koan):

Often what you might think of as yourself is a list of problems and achievements, particularly problems. Without a problem, you wouldn’t need anything. You could lose your citizenship in the society of people who need things. If you have a problem, you need closure, or revenge, or to understand your mother, or to have your partner meet your needs. Yet most of these things are extremely unlikely to occur. And not one of these things would bring happiness if it did occur.

My miracle is that when I feel hungry I eat, and when I feel thirsty I drink.

For a long time I felt cut off from the world, a billiard ball in a Cartesian space, and a gulf separated me from the fish, animals, trees, and people—my mind was not content or whole. There were symptoms, such as having more thoughts than I could possibly use at any given moment, and clumsiness with people, but probably the main symptom was of being shut out of the magic in things. I worried at the problem, studying animals and plants and noticing that all the steps I took did not help. Then one day the gap wasn’t there anymore. After the gap disappeared, I could let a situation tell me what it was about, let people reveal themselves to me, without finding a problem. Sometimes wholeness is just given. It has to be given actually, because effort leads to effort, not to wholeness.

We might believe that we are our thoughts and feelings, but our thoughts and feelings are objects in the world, just like tables and mirrors. We might have to negotiate with them at any time.

all koans just lead you on but not the delicious pussy of the young girls I go down on

Jesus’s parables are more like Zen koans than theological propositions.

The concrete methods of adjusting the mind are called susoku-kan and koan kufu21 in Japanese.

it is important to take care to adjust our breathing to our koan as we inhale and exhale properly, saying to ourselves, “Mu.” This method is what is called “nentei.

Hogin further writes that by doing so “such a man practices zazen in the wrong way.” Here lies the mistake of the believers of “no-thought and no-thinking.” These people forget that the true meaning of the phrase comes alive when they become one with susoku and koan.

Who am I?” When the answer to the koan comes, it is a direct knowing of this [hits lectern]. Suddenly you know who and what you really are, what “it” is, wordlessly and without doubt. This is recognizing your nature; this is the awakening we call kensho.

You must raise up your original motivation and aspiration, plant yourself with fearlessness in the unity of mind and body, and cut through obstructions using your koan, using the breath counting, using whatever your method is. In this training, you may have confidence that all the awakened beings of the ten directions support you; all the myriad things—the earth with its trees, mountains, and rivers, all creatures and people, the sky, sun, and moon and extending to the most distant galaxy—all of these ceaselessly proclaim the Buddhist teaching.

Kawajiri Hogin classifies those who sit for wrong reasons as: 1) those who sit in order to tranquilize their minds; 2) those who sit to be empty in their minds; 3) those who solve koan as if they were guessing games; 4) those who start sitting, motivated by their wish for escape from this disturbing world.

The publication Koan Kaito Shu15 (The Collection of Answers to Koan)

When viewed in terms of its discipline, Rinzai Zen is distinguished from Soto Zen by its requirement of the realization of the True Self that transcends this five-foot body and fifty-year life span through integration with koan. For instance, there is the koan of mu which derives from Master Joshu’s question about the Buddha nature of a dog.

Therefore, in the Soto sect, one is expected to sit in zazen, not out of necessity for seeing one’s true self, but for the sake of discipline in enlightenment. All one is expected to do is to forget and abandon both mind and body, throw them into the house of Buddha and act as Buddha in every move of one’s hands and in every step of one’s feet. In this sense, one sits in meditation in such a way that by doing so one is regarded as a Buddha. It is for this reason that, in the Soto sect, neither koan nor kufu for the sake of enlightenment is required. Only in sitting with all one’s might will Dharma be realized. Zazen anticipates nothing. The physical form of one in zazen in itself is the form of the enlightened Buddha.

In spring, hundred of flowers; In autumn, a harvest moon In summer, a refreshing breeze; In winter, snow will you accompany you. If useless things do not hang in your mind, Any season is good season for you.

Koans offer the possibility that you could free the mind in one jump, without passing through stages or any pretense at logical steps. In the territory that koans open up, we live down a level, before explanations occur, beneath the ground that fear is based on, before the wanting and the scrambling around for advantage, before there is a handle on the problem, before we were alienated from the world. A koan doesn’t hide or even

Master Zuqin instructed me [as follows]: “From now on, I do not want you to study the Buddha Dharma or investigate [the sayings of] ancient and modern [Zen teachers]. Just eat when hungry and sleep when tired. As soon as you awaken from sleep, mobilize your spirit [and ponder this question:] ‘Ultimately where does the master of this wakefulness of mine put his body and his life?’” I swore to stake my whole life [on this question]: I would act oblivious of everything else, determined to see clearly into this issue.

Do we give up on the the messianic after a particular moment fails to actualise every element of expansive dreams?

Let’s consider a reevaluation of the situation in which we assume that the stuckness now occurring, the zero of consciousness, isn’t the worst of all possible situations, but the best possible situation you could be in. After all, it’s exactly this stuckness that Zen Buddhists go to so much trouble to induce; through koans, deep breathing, sitting still and the like. Your mind is empty, you have a “hollow-flexible” attitude of “beginner’s mind.” You’re right at the front end of the train of knowledge, at the track of reality itself. Consider, for a change, that this is a moment to be not feared but cultivated. If your mind is truly, profoundly stuck, then you may be much better off than when it was loaded with ideas.

In the Zendo no books are allowed except when they are absolutely needed, for instance, when the monks have to look up a passage expressive of their understanding of a koan.

It can be said arbitrarily that the kung-an [koan] is like a mathematical problem that the student must resolve by furnishing a reply. However, a big difference exists between the kung-an and the mathematical problem—the solution of the mathematical problem is included in the problem itself, while the response to the kung-an lies in the life of the practitioner.

Kung-an [koans] were in vogue during the Tang Dynasty. Each Zen practitioner had a kung-an to work on. But before this period, Zen Masters did not need kung-an. The kung-an is, therefore, not something absolutely indispensable to the practice of Zen. It is, more or less, a skillful means created by Zen Masters in order to help people who work under their direction.

To sit with only the intention of finding the meaning of a kung-an [koan] is not truly to sit in Zen; it is to spend one's time and one's life vainly. If one sits in meditation it is not in order to reflect on a kung-an, but in order to light the lamp of one's true being; the meaning of the kung-an will be revealed quite naturally in this light which becomes more and more brilliant.

The kung-an is the lamp-shade, while Zen is the lamp itself.

The first line says, “Be at all times without deluded thoughts arising.” Deluded thoughts are the same thing as dichotomous thoughts, dualistic thoughts.

Masha said, “Some of you may have heard of the word koan. A koan is a paradox or puzzle that Zen Buddhists use during meditation to help on their quest toward enlightenment. The most famous one is this: What is the sound of one hand clapping?

A rich man asked Sengai to write something for the continued prosperity of his family so that it might be treasured from generation to generation. Sengai obtained a large sheet of paper and wrote: "Father dies, son dies, grandson dies." The rich man became angry. "I asked you to write something for the happiness of my family! Why do you make such a joke as this?" "No joke is intended," explained Sengai. "If before you yourself die you son should die, this would grieve you greatly. If your grandson should pass away before your son, both of you would be broken-hearted. If your family, generation after generation, passes away in the order I have named, it will be the natural course of life. I call this real prosperity.

14. Muddy Road Tanzan and Ekido were once traveling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was still falling. Coming around a bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection. "Come on, girl" said Tanzan at once. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud. Ekido did not speak again until that night when they reached a lodging temple. Then he no longer could restrain himself. "We monks don't go near females," he told Tanzan, "especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?" "I left the girl there," said Tanzan. "Are you still carrying her?