Bodhidharma by Sesshu (1420-1506)

                           

Bodhidharma

Wake-up Sermon

The essence of the Way is detachment. And the goal of those who practice is freedom from appearances. The sutras say, "Detachment is enlightenment because it negates appearances." Buddhahood means awareness. Mortals whose minds are aware reach the Way of Enlightenment and are therefore called buddhas. The sutras say, "Those who free themselves from all appearances are called buddhas." The appearance of appearance as no appearance can't be seen visually but can only be known by means of wisdom. Whoever hears and believes this teaching embarks on the Great Vehicle and leaves the three realms.

The three realms are greed, anger, and delusion. To leave the three realms means to go from greed, anger, and delusion back to morality, meditation, and wisdom. Greed, anger, and delusion have no nature of their own. They depend on mortals. And anyone capable of reflection is bound to see that the nature of greed, anger, and delusion is the buddha-nature. Beyond greed, anger, and delusion there is no other buddha-nature. The sutras say, "Buddhas have only become buddhas while living with the three poisons and nourishing themselves on the pure Dharma." The three poisons are greed, anger, and delusion.

The Great Vehicle is the greatest of all vehicles. It's the conveyance of bodhisattvas, who use everything without using anything and who travel all day without traveling. Such is the vehicle of buddhas. The sutras say, "No vehicle is the vehicle of buddhas."

Whoever realizes that the six senses aren't real, that the five aggregates are fictions, that no such things can be located anywhere in the body, understands the language of buddhas. The sutras say, "The cave of five aggregates is the hall of zen. The opening of the inner eye is the door of the Great Vehicle." What could be clearer?

Not thinking about anything is zen. Once you know this, walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, everything you do is zen. To know that the mind is empty is to see the buddha. The buddhas of the ten directions56 have no mind. To see no mind is to see the buddha.

To give up yourself without regret is the greatest charity. To transcend motion and stillness is the highest meditation. Mortals keep moving, and arhats stay still. 57 But the highest meditation surpasses both that of mortals and that of arhats. People who reach such understanding free themselves from all appearances without effort and cure all illnesses without treatment. Such is the power of great zen.

Using the mind to look for reality is delusion. Not using the mind to look for reality is awareness. Freeing oneself from words is liberation. Remaining unblemished by the dust of sensation is guarding the Dharma. Transcending life and death is leaving home.

Not suffering another existence is reaching the Way. Not creating delusions is enlightenment. Not engaging in ignorance is wisdom. No affliction is nirvana. And no appearance of the mind is the other shore.

When you're deluded, this shore exists. When you wake up, it doesn't exist. Mortals stay on this shore. But those who discover the greatest of all vehicles stay on neither this shore nor the other shore. They're able to leave both shores. Those who see the other shore as different from this shore don't understand zen.

Delusion means mortality. And awareness means Buddhahood. They're not the same. And they're not different. It's just that people distinguish delusion from awareness. When we're deluded there's a world to escape. When we're aware, there's nothing to escape.

In the light of the impartial Dharma, mortals look no different from sages. The sutras say that the impartial Dharma is something that mortals can't penetrate and sages can't practice. The impartial Dharma is only practiced by great bodhisattvas and buddhas. To look on life as different from death or on motion as different from stillness is to be partial. To be impartial means to look on suffering as no different from nirvana, because the nature of both is emptiness. By imagining they're putting an end to suffering and entering nirvana arhats end up trapped by nirvana. But bodhisattvas know that suffering is essentially empty. And by remaining in emptiness they remain in nirvana. Nirvana means no birth and no death. It's beyond birth and death and beyond nirvana. When the mind stops moving, it enters nirvana. Nirvana is an empty mind. Where delusions don't exist, buddhas reach nirvana. Where afflictions don't exist, bodhisattvas enter the place of enlightenment.

An uninhabited place is one without greed, anger, or delusion. Greed is the realm of desire, anger the realm of form, and delusion the formless realm. When a thought begins, you enter the three realms. When a thought ends, you leave the three realms. The beginning or end of the three realms, the existence or nonexistence of anything, depends on the mind. This applies to everything, even to such inanimate objects as rocks and sticks.

Whoever knows that the mind is a fiction and devoid of anything real knows that his own mind neither exists nor doesn't exist. Mortals keep creating the mind, claiming it exists. And arhats keep negating the mind, claiming it doesn't exist. But bodhisattvas and buddhas neither create nor negate the mind. This is what's meant by the mind that neither exists nor doesn't exist. The mind that neither exists nor doesn't exist is called the Middle Way.

If you use your mind to study reality, you won't understand either your mind or reality. If you study reality without using your mind, you'll understand both. Those who don't understand, don't understand understanding. And those who understand, understand not understanding. People capable of true vision know that the mind is empty. They transcend both understanding and not understanding. The absence of both understanding and not understanding is true understanding.

Seen with true vision, form isn't simply form, because form depends on mind. And mind isn't simply mind, because mind depends on form. Mind and form create and negate each other. That which exists exists in relation to that which doesn't exist. And that which doesn't exist doesn't exist in relation to that which exists. This is true vision. By means of such vision nothing is seen and nothing is not seen. Such vision reaches throughout the ten directions without seeing: because nothing is seen; because not seeing is seen; because seeing isn't seeing. What mortals see are delusions. True vision is detached from seeing.

The mind and the world are opposites, and vision arises where they meet. When your mind doesn't stir inside, the world doesn't arise outside. When the world and the mind are both transparent, this is true vision. And such understanding is true understanding.

To see nothing is to perceive the Way, and to understand nothing is to know the Dharma, because seeing is neither seeing nor not seeing and because understanding is neither understanding nor not understanding. Seeing without seeing is true vision. Understanding without understanding is true understanding.

True vision isn't just seeing seeing. It's also seeing not seeing. And true understanding isn't just understanding understanding. It's also understanding not understanding. If you understand anything, you don't understand. Only when you understand nothing is it true understanding. Understanding is neither understanding nor not understanding.

The sutras say, "Not to let go of wisdom is stupidity." When the mind doesn't exist, understanding and not understanding are both true. When the mind exists, understanding and not understanding are both false.

When you understand, reality depends on you. When you don't understand, you depend on reality. When reality depends on you, that which isn't real becomes real. When you depend on reality, that which is real becomes false. When you depend on reality, everything is false. When reality depends on you, everything is true. Thus, the sage doesn't use his mind to look for reality, or reality to look for his mind, or his mind to look for his mind, or reality to look for reality. His mind doesn't give rise to reality. And reality doesn't give rise to his mind. And because both his mind and reality are still, he's always in samadhi.

When the mortal mind appears, buddhahood disappears. When the mortal mind disappears, buddhahood appears. When the mind appears, reality disappears. When the mind disappears, reality appears. Whoever knows that nothing depends on anything has found the Way. And whoever knows that the mind depends on nothing is always at the place of enlightenment.

When you don't understand, you're wrong. When you understand, you're not wrong. This is because the nature of wrong is empty. When you don't understand, right seems wrong. When you understand, wrong isn't wrong, because wrong doesn't exist. The sutras say, "Nothing has a nature of its own." Act. Don't question. When you question, you're wrong. Wrong is the result of questioning. When you reach such an understanding, the wrong deeds of your past lives are wiped away. When you're deluded, the six senses and five shades are constructs of suffering and mortality. When you wake up, the six senses and five shades are constructs of nirvana and immortality.

Someone who seeks the Way doesn't look beyond himself. He knows that the mind is the Way. But when he finds the mind, he finds nothing. And when he finds the Way, he finds nothing. If you think you can use the mind to find the Way, you're deluded When you're deluded, buddhahood exists. When you're aware, it doesn't exist. This is because awareness is buddhahood.

If you're looking for the Way, the Way won't appear until your body disappears. It's like stripping bark from a tree. This karmic body undergoes constant change. It has no fixed reality. Practice according to your thoughts. Don't hate life and death or love life and death. Keep your every thought free of delusion, and in life you'll witness the beginning of nirvana,65 and in death you'll experience the assurance of no rebirth.

To see form but not be corrupted by form or to hear sound but not be corrupted by sound is liberation. Eyes that aren't attached to form are the Gates of Zen. Ears that aren't attached to sound are also the Gates of Zen. In short, those who perceive the existence and nature of phenomena and remain unattached are liberated. Those who perceive the external appearance of phenomena are at their mercy. Not to be subject to affliction is what's meant by liberation. There's no other liberation. When you know how to look at form, form doesn't give rise to mind and mind doesn't give rise to form. Form and mind are both pure.

When delusions are absent, the mind is the land of buddhas. When delusions are present, the mind is hell. Mortals create delusions. And by using the mind to give birth to mind they always find themselves in hell. Bodhisattvas see through delusions. And by not using the mind to give birth to mind they always find themselves in the land of buddhas. If you don't use your mind to create mind, every state of mind is empty and every thought is still. You go from one buddha-land67 to another. If you use your mind to create mind, every state of mind is disturbed and every thought is in motion. You go from one hell to the next. When a thought arises, there's good karma and bad karma, heaven and hell. When no thought arises, there's no good karma or bad karma, no heaven or hell.

The body neither exists nor doesn't exist. Hence existence as a mortal and nonexistence as a sage are conceptions with which a sage has nothing to do. His heart is empty and spacious as the sky.

That which follows is witnessed on the Way. It's beyond the ken of arhats and mortals.

When the mind reaches nirvana, you don't see nirvana, because the mind is nirvana. If you see nirvana somewhere outside the mind, you're deluding yourself.

Every suffering is a buddha-seed, because suffering impels mortals to seek wisdom. But you can only say that suffering gives rise to buddhahood. You can't say that suffering is buddhahood. Your body and mind are the field. Suffering is the seed, wisdom the sprout, and buddhahood the grain.

The buddha in the mind is like a fragrance in a tree. The buddha comes from a mind free of suffering, just as a fragrance comes from a tree free of decay. There's no fragrance without the tree and no buddha without the mind. If there's a fragrance without a tree, it's a different fragrance. If there's a buddha without your mind, it's a different buddha.

When the three poisons are present in your mind, you live in a land of filth. When the three poisons are absent from your mind, you live in a land of purity. The sutras say, "If you fill a land with impurity and filth, no buddha will ever appear." Impurity and filth refer to delusion and the other poisons. A buddha refers to a pure and awakened mind.

There's no language that isn't the Dharma. To talk all day without saying anything is the Way. To be silent all day and still say something isn't the Way. Hence neither does a tathagata's speech depend on silence, nor does his silence depend on speech, nor does his speech exist apart from his silence. Those who understand both speech and silence are in samadhi. If you speak when you know, your speech is free. If you're silent when you don't know, your silence is tied. If speech isn't attached to appearances, it's free. If silence is attached to appearances, it's tied. Language is essentially free. It has nothing to do with attachment. And attachment has nothing to do with language.

Reality has no high or low. If you see high or low, it isn't real. A raft isn't real. But a passenger raft is. A person who rides such a raft can cross that which isn't real. That's why it's real. According to the world there's male and female, rich and poor.

According to the Way there's no male or female, no rich or poor. When the goddess realized the Way, she didn't change her sex. When the stable boy awakened to the Truth, he didn't change his status. Free of sex and status, they shared the same basic appearance. The goddess searched twelve years for her womanhood without success. To search twelve years for one's manhood would likewise be fruitless. The twelve years refer to the twelve entrances.

Without the mind there's no buddha. Without the buddha there's no mind. Likewise, without water there's no ice, and without ice there's no water. Whoever talks about leaving the mind doesn't get very far. Don't become attached to appearances of the mind. The sutras say, "When you see no appearance, you see the buddha." This is what's meant by being free from appearances of the mind.

 Without the mind there's no buddha means that the buddha comes from the mind. T he mind gives birth to the buddha. But although the buddha comes from the mind, the mind doesn't come from the buddha, just as fish come from water, but water doesn't come from fish. Whoever wants to see a fish sees the water before he sees the fish. And whoever wants to see a buddha sees the mind before he sees the buddha. Once you've seen the fish, you forget about the water. And once you've seen the buddha, you forget about the mind. If you don't forget about the mind, the mind will confuse you, just as the water will confuse you if you don't forget about it.

Mortality and buddhahood are like water and ice. To be afflicted by the three poisons is mortality. To be purified by the three releases is buddhahood. That which freezes into ice in winter melts into water in summer. Eliminate ice and there's no more water. Get rid of mortality and there's no more buddhahood. Clearly, the nature of ice is the nature of water. And the nature of water is the nature of ice. And the nature of mortality is the nature of buddhahood. Mortality and buddhahood share the same nature, just as wutou and futzu share the same root but not the same season. It's only because of the delusion of differences that we have the words mortality and buddha hood. When a snake becomes a dragon, it doesn't change its scales. And when a mortal becomes a sage, he doesn't change his face. He knows his mind through internal wisdom and takes care of his body through external discipline.

Mortals liberate buddhas and buddhas liberate mortals. This is what's meant by impartiality. Mortals liberate buddhas because affliction creates awareness. And buddhas liberate mortals because awareness negates affliction. There can't help but be affliction. And there can't help but be awareness. If it weren't for affliction, there would be nothing to create awareness. And if it weren't for awareness, there would be nothing to negate affliction. When you're deluded, buddhas liberate mortals. When you're aware, mortals liberate buddhas. Buddhas don't become buddhas on their own. They're liberated by mortals. Buddhas regard delusion as· their father and greed as their mother. Delusion and greed are different names for mortality. Delusion and mortality are like the left hand and the right hand. There's no other difference.

When you're deluded, you're on this shore. When you're aware, you're on the other shore. But once you know your mind is empty and you see no appearances, you're beyond delusion and awareness. And once you're beyond delusion and awareness, the other shore doesn't exist. The tathagata isn't on this shore or the other shore. And he isn't in midstream. Arhats are in midstream and mortals are on this shore. On the other shore is buddhahood.

Buddhas have three bodies: a transformation body, a reward body, and a real body. The transformation body is also called the incarnation body. The transformation body appears when mortals do good deeds, the reward body when they cultivate wisdom, and the real body when they become aware of the sublime. The transformation body is the one you see flying in all directions rescuing others wherever it can. The reward body puts an end to doubts. The Great Enlightenment occurred in the Himalayas suddenly becomes true. The real body doesn't do or say anything. It remains perfectly still. But actually, there's not even one buddha-body, much less three. This talk of three bodies is simply based on human understanding, which can be shallow, moderate, or deep.

People of shallow understanding imagine they're piling up blessings and mistake the transformation body for the buddha. People of moderate understanding imagine they're putting an end to suffering and mistake the reward body for the buddha. And people of deep understanding imagine they're experiencing buddhahood and mistake the real body for the buddha. But people of the deepest understanding look within, distracted by nothing. Since a clear mind is the buddha, they attain the understanding of a buddha without using the mind. The three bodies, like all other things, are unattainable and indescribable. The unimpeded mind reaches the Way. The sutras say, "Buddhas don't preach the Dharma. They don't liberate mortals. And they don't experience buddhahood." This is what I mean.

Individuals create karma; karma doesn't create individuals. They create karma in this life and receive their reward in the next. They never escape. Only someone who's perfect creates no karma in this life and receives no reward. The sutras say, "Who creates no karma obtains the Dharma." This isn't an empty saying. You can create karma, but you can't create a person. When you create karma, you're reborn along with your karma. When you don't create karma, you vanish along with your karma. Hence, with karma dependent on the individual and the individual dependent on karma, if an individual doesn't create karma, karma has no hold on him. In the same manner, "A person can enlarge the Way. The Way can't enlarge a person."

Mortals keep creating karma and mistakenly insist that there's no retribution. But can they deny suffering? Can they deny that what the present state of mind sows the next state of mind reaps? How can they escape? But if the present state of mind sows nothing, the next state of mind reaps nothing. Don't misconceive karma.

The sutras say, "Despite believing in buddhas, people who imagine that buddhas practice austerities aren't Buddhists. The same holds for those who imagine that buddhas are subject to rewards of wealth or poverty. They're icchantikas. They're incapable of belief."

Someone who understands the teaching of sages is a sage. Someone who understands the teaching of mortals is a mortal. A mortal who can give up the teaching of mortals and follow the teaching of sages becomes a sage. But the fools of this world prefer to look for sages far away. They don't believe that the wisdom of their own mind is the sage. The sutras say, "Among men of no understanding, don't preach this sutra." And the sutras say, "Mind is the teaching." But people of no understanding don't believe in their own mind or that by understanding this teaching they can become a sage. They prefer to look for distant knowledge and long for things in space, buddha-images, light, incense, and colors. They fall prey to falsehood and lose their minds to insanity.

The sutras say, "When you see that all appearances are not appearances, you see the tathagata." The myriad doors to the truth all come from the mind. When appearances of the mind are as transparent as space, they're gone.

Our endless sufferings are the roots of illness. When mortals are alive, they worry about death. When they're full, they worry about hunger. Theirs is the Great Uncertainty. But sages don't consider the past. And they don't worry about the future. Nor do they cling to the present. And from moment to moment they follow the Way. If you haven't awakened to this great truth, you'd better look for a teacher on earth or in the heavens. Don't compound your own deficiency.

From: THE ZEN TEACHING of Bodhidharma. Translated and with an Introduction by Red Pine

 

The Flowers whirl away in the wind like snow.

The thing that falls away is myself.

Kintsune, 13th Century

Dogen Zenji 1200 - 1253

“To study the Buddha Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be actualized by myriad things. When actualized by myriad things, your body and mind as well as the bodies and minds of others drop away. No trace of enlightenment remains, and this no-trace continues endlessly.”

 

When all thoughts are exhausted,

I slip into the woods and gather

A pile of shepherd's purse.

Like the little stream making its way

Through the mossy crevices,

I, too, quietly turn clear and transparent.

-Ryokan 1758-1831

 

Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) Case 22

By Yamada Kôun Roshi

Instruction:

As for greatness, there is no boundary, as for minuteness it is as if it were next to emptiness. Grasping and setting free are not in someone else, rolling up and spreading out are in me. If you by all means want to rid yourself of what sticks and remove all fetters, straight off you must erase the traces and swallow your voice. Each person will sever the point of essence by sitting, and each one will be a thousand-foot cliff. Tell me, whose state of consciousness is this? I will try to present such a case, look!

Case:

Seppô, instructing the assembly, said, "There's a poisonous snake on the South Mountain. All of you should look at it carefully!" Chôkei said, "Today in the Zen hall there is a great one who has lost his body and life." 

A monk told this to Gensha, who said, "Only Elder Brother Ryô could say something like that. However, I wouldn't talk like that." The monk asked, "What then would you say, Master"? Gensha replied, "Why does it have to be 'the southern side of the mountain'?"

Unmon threw his staff down in front of Seppô and acted frightened.

 

Verse:

Elephant-bone Rock is too high for people to reach;

Whosoever gets there must be a skilled handler of snakes.

Master Ryô and Master Bi cannot do anything.

Is there anyone at all who has lost body and life?

Shôyô knows and sweeps the grass again;

North, south, east, west – it is nowhere to be found.

Suddenly the staff sticks out;

It hurls itself at Seppô, mouth open wide;

It opens its mouth wide, quickly like a flash of lightning,

If you raise your eyebrows, you will not see it.

It's hidden now before Breast Peaks;

Those who come, look at each maneuver.

The master shouts loudly: "Look under your feet!"

 

Today is the middle day of our sesshin; we have only two and a half days left. Do your very best. To those people working on post-kensho koans, I would say that your kenshos are still covered with lots of dirt. When you go on practicing with further koans, you can be polished gradually. In fact, you should take the moment you finish all your koans to be the real starting point of your practice.

There are quite a few ways to understand "kensho." One of the two representative ways tends to apply the word "kensho" very rigidly and deeply, and the other acknowledges kensho rather generously, somewhat like in a "bargain sale." As far as I know, the master who regards kensho in the deepest sense is Master Bassui. With him it is "kensho" from the very beginning to the very end. No matter how far you go, you are dealing only with attaining kensho. Even when you're struggling with post-enlightenment practice, after completing all koans, you are no less concerned with getting kensho. According to Master Bassui, "the clear kensho" is the alpha and omega of Zen.

To use an example I often cite, when you graduate from college with a bachelor's degree, you are only starting your own academic study; up to that point you have been instructed by your teacher. In Zen, you have been taught by your own master [up to the completion of the koan study]. So please bear in mind: Only when you are through with all your koans can you say you have "attained kensho" to a certain degree. From that point of view, your so-called initial kensho experience allowed you to see but a little bit of the essential world. Of course, it makes a lot of difference whether you've actually seen it a little or you haven't seen it at all. But even if you have seen it, that's just a tiny bit of it, and it takes a long time to make it really clear. At any rate, I know you are trying your best: those who are endeavouring to attain kensho, please get this very first glimpse of it by all means. The most important thing is to be purely one with your practice. Be purely one, and get the first peep into the true world – once in your life is enough – then (I'm presumptuous to say that) I'll take over the rest of the work to make your kensho clearer and clearer. My wish would be to bring you to the first kensho as soon as possible, but I can't control that. I can only tell you how to practice; it is you who have to have the experience. After your experience happens, however, you can trust me to make it deeper and deeper as you go along. Please become single-mindedly one with your Mu and attain the very first glimpse, however cursory it may be, into the world of essence.

On the Instruction:

As for greatness, there is no boundary; as for minuteness it is as if it were next to emptiness. This rather puzzling sentence depicts our true self. It's an explanation of our essential nature. When you observe it from the standpoint of greatness, there is no limit. No matter how far you go, there's no point at which you can say, "This is far enough." It's limitless. In the Hôkyô-Zanmai [Samadhi of the Treasure Mirror] it says: "As for minuteness, it enters where there is no gap; as for greatness, it transcends space." So, concerning greatness, it is as big as the universe. Or rather, if you say, "the universe," that too is limited. We don't know how vast it is. Why is that? Because there is not one thing. With nothingness there is no point where we could stop and say, "This will do." When we examine our true nature carefully – how do we examine it? from inside our minds! – we find that no matter how far we go, there is no boundary. "As for greatness, there is no boundary." "As for minuteness, it is as if it were next to emptiness." You might perhaps wonder if there is such a thing as "next to emptiness." Recently, that seems to have made its appearance. In his teisho, Iida Tôin Roshi calls "next to emptiness" an electron. An "electron" is a particle, and these days still smaller particles have been discovered and they are truly next to zero. Somewhere in the United States there is an enormous setup which has helped to discover new particles (I have heard there is something similar in Japan, too). These particles are given extremely complicated names. Where such a particle springs from I don't know, but it appears suddenly, shows its form for just an instant in the visible world and then disappears, leaving nothing behind. This is indeed "next to emptiness." Humans are amazing beings to be able to discover such a thing and measure its life span. That is said to be one-hundred millionth of a trillionth of a second. How on earth could scientists measure such a short span of time? Probably not through an apparatus, but through theoretical calculation.

Now it is true even with the smallest of particles that "one is all, all is one." One such particle is nothing but the whole universe. This must be clearly grasped. In "Gutei's one-finger," for example, the raised finger exhausts the universe. But now, the tiniest particle exhausts the entire universe as well. From the point of view of greatness, our essential nature is limitless; from the point of view of minuteness, it is infinitesimal. No wonder it is so, because there is nothing at all. The Instruction says its minuteness is next to emptiness, but I'd prefer to say that, while its greatness is without boundary, its minuteness is zero. As for smallness, it is null. That is our true self. Not until a person grasps this world clearly can she or he instruct others in Zen; only then can one be Zen teacher.

Next, the activity of such a teacher comes to the fore: Grasping and setting free are not in someone else; rolling up and spreading out are in me. "Not in someone else" means it is in me. The power to "grasp and set free" is in my own hands. It is the same thing with "rolling up and spreading out." Think of a scroll, for example: when unrolled it spreads out; when rolled up, however, it becomes smaller and smaller, and becomes eventually a stick.

"Grasping" and "rolling up" designate the same aspect, corresponding to the "minuteness". Now, such expressions as "grasping and setting free," "rolling and spreading out," "killing and giving life," "depriving and granting," and "gathering and letting go" – they are all saying the same thing about Zen practice. The easiest to understand may be "killing and giving life." A single sword can be wielded both as "a sword that takes life away" and as "a sword that gives life"; freely one can take life away or one can give life. So, freely you can "grasp and set free," since that is "not in someone else." Freely you can "roll up and spread out," as it is in your own hands. The "killing," "grasping" or "rolling up" means to make the student throw everything away and bring him or her to the point of total nothingness. It is to deprive the student of all delusive thoughts and carry him or her to a state of colorless transparency. That is, to bring the student to kensho. This activity is called "rolling up" or "killing." Then, simultaneously, the person comes back to greater life, as the "great life manifests itself" [daikatsu-genjô].

The universe consists of the phenomenal world and the essential world, and these two worlds are one and the same. They are not two worlds but one. Seen from one side, there is only the world of essence where there is nothing at all; observed from the other side, the phenomenal world is clearly revealed before us. If you truly die and come to see the world of colorless transparency, immediately the great life will manifest itself and the phenomenal world comes back to life as it really is. This is what the phrase "great death – great manifestation of life" [daishi-ichiban, daikatsu-genjô] signifies. In other words, "Grasping and setting free are not in someone else; rolling up and spreading out are in me" means that "killing" completely and "giving" the great life anew is the ability of every accomplished Zen master. This is pointing to Seppô and Unmon in the Case which follows. They take away everything, deprive a person of all delusions and concepts and bring him or her to the state of colorless transparency, only to give great life anew. This is the strength of a true teacher – so maintains the Instruction.

If you by all means want to rid yourself of what sticks and remove all fetters. We havehabitual attachments to things, sticking to them like birdlime [torimochi]. When we practice zazen the dense lime gradually thins out and becomes more like honey. But that's still sticky! If we go on still further, it becomes like water with no stickiness at all, until we no longer adhere to anything. It is extremely hard to reach this stage. Even for one who has attained kensho it's not easy to become free of the "sticking" attachments. That's why the practice of zazen after enlightenment requires so much time and effort. If you try with all your devotion you might come to some enlightenment even during a one-week sesshin. But the most important thing is to disencumber yourself of attachments, and this work can't be accomplished perfectly in this world. Classical Zen texts often mention this point. To return to one's true self is that difficult. So long as we are inclined to stick to something, we are never free. "And remove all fetters" means to cut off all the binding ropes, called delusive thoughts and feelings, that trammel us. After enlightenment there still remain sticky birdlime and fettering ropes. These kinds of dirt, together with the traces of enlightenment, must gradually be cleaned away.

Straight off you must erase the traces and swallow your voice. To "swallow your voice" means you have nothing more to say. When you keep rubbing out all traces of enlightenment, there is nothing left to talk about. How hard it is to get there! But once enlightened you must reach this level, and the task of a genuine Zen master is to lead people to that point.

When all traces of enlightenment have been thus banished, then what? Each person will sever the point of essence by sitting, and each one will be a thousand-foot cliff. Various explanations have been offered for the meaning of "the point of essence." Yasutani Roshi says it means the pivotal point of Zen practice. By sitting and sitting the essentials of zazen are also cut off, or rather are killed. That is, even the most important points in zazen practice are killed by sitting. If you sit really radically, even such things become unnecessary, says Haku'un Roshi. Iida Tôin Roshi, on the other hand, says that "the point of essence" means the place where consciousness does not reach, where the way of the mind is extinguished, and all delusions have disappeared. I somehow feel that this is a better interpretation. The place to which consciousness has no access to, the place where there is nothing at all, where not even the slightest delusive thought stirs – that is "the point of essence." Now you must kill even this "point" by sitting persistently on your cushion. If you don't do that, the great life will never be truly manifested.

All paths of consciousness are deadlocked, not one delusive thought arises .... As you practice "Muuuu, Muuuu," you reach a stage where you are in a daze and your mind doesn't move at all. This fogged, dazed state of mind is crucial. The most important thing at this juncture is not to let go of Mu. Persist desperately in your practice of Mu to the end. Then your eyes will open to the real world, the world of great life.

Having reached this point, each one will be a thousand-foot cliff. Every person who severs the "point of essence" is likened to "a cliff of a thousand feet" (or sometimes: "of ten thousand feet"). It is a sheer cliff that defies scaling, not granting any access at all. That means, not even the Buddha or Bodhidharma can get a hold on it. There is no way the buddhas and patriarchs could get even a peep at it, let alone find a place to grab onto it. Not until you become this way are you truly on your own, able to swallow the universe and say, "Above and below the heavens I alone exist," or "In heaven and on earth there is no one else." To become one with the universe to this degree is what is meant by "Each one will be a thousand-foot cliff."

Tell me, whose state of consciousness is this? I will try to present such a case, look! Has there ever been a person like this? Reaching the stage of a "one-thousand-foot cliff"? I'll show you an example, so have a good look at it!

On the Case:

Seppô, instructing the assembly, said, "There's a poisonous snake on the South Mountain. All of you should look at it carefully!" In all probability Master Seppô was delivering a teisho in front of his disciples. "South Mountain" is Mt. Seppô, where Master Seppô resided. Mr. Ino'ue Shûten explains that the "poisonous snake" was a cobra, and that cobras must have inhabited the area including the Province of Kanton in southern China at that time. Seppô tells his students, "On South Mountain there is a cobra, so watch carefully!" But what is the "cobra" we are supposed to deal with today?

Seppô was a great master with many fine disciples, among whom are Unmon Bun'en, Gensha Shibi, Chôkei Eryô and Hofuku Jûten. Seppô himself was a disciple of Master Tokusan Senkan, famous for using a stick to whack anyone who came before him. It took Seppô a long time to come to kensho. An early kensho is not necessarily an unmixed blessing, for it tends to be shallow. People of old said, "Hard work will necessarily result in great brilliance." It's just like saying that the harder you try, the greater will be the light of your kensho. That's how it was with Seppô, creating a magnificent light. I hope that each of you too will attain a great enlightenment rather than a feeble one, even if it takes a long time.

How Seppô came to enlightenment is a very illuminating story, but today I cannot go into it. Gantô, Seppô's brother in the dharma under Tokusan, was a kind of Zen genius. Although he didn't practice as hard as Seppô, he had a deeply enlightened eye. However, he apparently had some form of bad karma from a previous life, of which he was well aware. He said that he was not the type to go out into the world to teach, and that Seppô would be the most appropriate person for such work instead (Seppô was older, but in the dharma Gantô was the senior). Indeed, Gantô ended his life without gaining any fitting acknowledgement from the world. He was murdered by bandits in the end. When Master Hakuin heard this story as a young man, he was deeply distressed. How could a great man like Gantô come to such a tragic end? What value was there in practicing Buddhism, then? When he had a deep enlightenment, however, Master Hakuin clapped his hands with joy and exclaimed, "Oh, Gantô has been very well! He is still very much alive!" Gantô and Seppô always encouraged each other, and Gantô, being senior to Seppô, guided the latter to become a great master, and from Seppô came forth one famous master after another.

Now, Seppô said, "There's a poisonous snake on the South Mountain. All of you should look at it carefully!" Then Chôkei Eryô stepped forward and said, "Today in the Zen hall there is a great one who has lost his body and life." The Japanese word ôi-ni, translated here as "great," can also mean "many," so Yasutani Roshi interprets it as "Today there are many people in the Zen hall." But other people maintain that it's not a question of number and I'm inclined to follow this interpretation. Chôkei is saying, "Today there's a great person in the Zen hall. He was bitten by this poisonous snake and died." Chôkei is speaking of himself, and the "poisonous snake" means, of course, our essential nature. "Being bitten by the snake" means coming to kensho, with the mind and body fallen off. There is such a person in the zendo. "Today there's a great person in the Zen hall. He was bitten by this poisonous snake and died."

A monk told this to Gensha. Then a monk in the assembly went and told this to Gensha, another of Seppô's disciples,and elder brother in the dharma to Chôkei. Gensha also was a great master. Until he was 30 years old, he worked as a fisherman. One day, when he was out fishing with his father, the latter fell over the side of the boat and drowned right before his eyes. This experience made him realize the impermanence of all things and he decided to become a monk. Therefore, although he may have had little learning, his state of enlightenment was splendid. He was respected highly by Master Dôgen.

Upon being told by the monk what Chôkei had said, Gensha commented, "Only Elder Brother Ryô could say something like that. However, I wouldn't talk like that." "Ryô" means Chôkei, whose full name was Chôkei Eryô. So Gensha said, "Oh I see. Only my big brother Chôkei could talk that way. But I am a bit different myself."

The monk asked, "What then would you say, Master?" Gensha replied, "Why does it have to be 'South Mountain'?" Gensha's answer was, "What's the use of bringing in South Mountain? That wouldn't be necessary. Isn't the poisonous snake everywhere?" That's right. Everyone of us is a poisonous snake. In fact, all human beings are poisonous snakes! And these poisonous snakes are wonderful snakes! That's why Gensha says that the poisonous snakes aren't limited to South Mountain. They are everywhere.

Unmon must have been in the assembly. Unmon threw his staff down in front of Seppô and acted frightened. Unmon threw his staff and acted frightened, "Here's the snake! Here's the snake!" If you think he made a snake out of the staff, you are wrong. That would be mere play. You must understand that he presented the poisonous snake itself. In fact, Unmon liked to make use of his staff. In Case 60 of the Hekiganroku (Unmon's Staff), it says, "Unmon showed his staff to the assembly and said, 'This staff has changed into a dragon and has swallowed up heaven and earth.'" He means to say, "This staff has become a dragon and gulped down the entire universe." So the same staff is at one time a dragon, another time a snake. How true! A single staff exhausts the entire universe. Unmon's presentation is outstanding.

In short, the "poisonous snake," the cobra, has come out as the essential nature here. It is nothing but our essential nature that is the topic of this koan. When we talk about "our essential nature" or "our true self," you may think it is limited to human beings. But our "essential nature" and the "essential world" are one and the same. They are not two, just one. That is what this koan is dealing with.

 

On the Verse:

Elephant-bone Rock is too high for people to reach. "Elephant-bone Rock" is another way of referring to Mt. Seppô, where Master Seppô resided. It is said that this name came from the fact that on its top there was a rock shaped like an elephant bone. That this Rock is too high for people to come up to means that Seppô's state of realization is so lofty that no one else can attain it or even have access to it.

Whoever gets there must be a skilled handler of snakes. Seppô's state of enlightenment being so high, there's scarcely anyone who could come near it. But if there ever were such a person, he or she would have to have the ability to play freely with snakes. Unmon is certainly one such master snake charmer.

Chôkei and Gensha are in the same league as Unmon, but, in order to extol Unmon, in this Verse they are handled with the depreciating words, Master Ryô and Master Bi cannot do anything. "Master Ryô" is Chôkei Eryô and "Master Bi" is Gensha Shibi. Setchô, belonging to the Unmon Sect, probably felt a special affection and respect for Unmon. Although Chôkei and Gensha are likewise splendid, they are intentionally kept low so that Unmon should be praised.

Is there anyone at all who has lost body and life? Is there anyone who has died away? That is, has anyone been bitten by the snake and perished? In common terminology, is there anyone here who has had a deep enlightenment and lost his or her ego? When you open your eyes to your true essential nature, you understand clearly that what you thought was "I" or "me" is really empty. This is what it means to lose your body and life. How many are here who have truly attained great enlightenment? Are there any at all?

Shôyô knows and sweeps the grass again. Great Master Unmon lived in Shôyô in Kanton Province, so "Shôyô" here means Unmon himself. Great Master Unmon knows the matter well and sets off to sweep the grass to find the snake again. "Again" means that Chôkei and Gensha already swept the grass to expose the snake, but now it's Unmon's turn to sweep the grass once more to find the snake.

North, south, east, west – it is nowhere to be found. No matter where you go, you won't find the snake. This refers to the world of nothingness. Zen always handles freely both the world of nothingness and the clearly manifest phenomenal world. In actuality it's all just one reality: Looked at from one side we see the world of nothingness, from the other we see the phenomenal world. It's just like the famous verse that goes, "In nothingness there are limitless things: flowers, the moon and lofty towers."2 It is from the point of view of nothingness that the Verse says, "North, south, east, or west – it is nowhere to be found."

But suddenly the staff sticks out. All of a sudden Unmon flings out his staff. The "staff" is actually the poisonous snake. Abruptly, the cobra appears.

It hurls itself at Seppô, mouth open wide. This cobra bears the spirit of Unmon; in fact, it is Unmon himself. Frightening! Its mouth is wide open.

 It opens its mouth wide, quickly like a flash of lightning; if you raise your eyebrows, you will not see it. The lightning flashes, and at the same instant it opens up its mouth wide. If you open your eyes big and try to see it, you can't. No wonder, because the one trying to see is the IT itself. Sometimes I think how strange it is that I can never see my own face, my whole life long. I can see my reflection in a mirror, but that's just an image and not my real face. There is no way that you can see your own face. How mysterious! And how sad, too, that no matter how wide you open your eyes, it cannot be seen. But if you ask me whether or not I have a face at all, yes, I do have one. And that's certain. This is the same as "if you raise your eyebrows, you will not see it."

Where is the snake now? It's hidden now before Breast Peaks. "Breast Peaks"[Nyû-Hô] refer to Mt. Setchô since it had two peaks called Small Breast Peaks, resembling two female breasts. That the snake is now hidden and is in front of Mt. Setchô means that it is hidden with Setchô himself.

Those who come, look at each manoeuvre. All those who come to Mt. Setchô should observe what a competent snake handler he is. The snake rests in his hands.

And the last line: The master shouts loudly: "Look under your feet!" A loud shout! If you want to see the snake, come to Mt. Setchô! Observe my skill! Where is the snake? Look under your feet! But if you literally look under feet, you won't find it there. It's in everyone – but even this wording is incorrect because it becomes two. Rather, each person is the snake. Everyone must wake up to the fact that he or she already has something marvellous. The way to come to awakening is to do MU right to the finish [toko-ton made]. This "right to the finish" is difficult. It means thoroughly, or in common Japanese, "until you penetrate to the bottom" [soko ni tessuru made]. Your MU must penetrate to the bottom, it must clearly touch the lowest bottom. You shouldn't just go halfway with your MU and then draw back, and keep repeating the same process. Your "MUUUUU...." must hit the very bottom. If it does, without fail IT will appear. Practice wholeheartedly and thoroughly, and IT will certainly appear.

The 5^th precept: I take up the way of not giving or taking drugs.

Isn’t it in our Zazen practice that in time the clouds of the mind are blown away; with the support of following the precepts and other fields of Zen training.

I think of our miscellaneous koan, number 21c: “If there is a bit of difference, it is the distance between heaven and earth” (from Dogen’s Fukanzazengi). Without giving the answer away - it is the overactive thinking process that produces the clouds that seperate heaven and earth. This is endorsed in such Zen lines as: “The great way is not difficult, it simply dislikes choosing,” and “With a bit of thinking about if a dog has Buddha nature, or has no Buddha nature, then our body is lost and our life is lost.”

I recall at a Jukai ceremony, probably more than 25 years ago now, Robert Tindal, when adding his personal vow for the 5^th precept, said, “I take up the way of not giving or taking drugs; I vow not to have more than two and a half cups of coffee a day.”

Of course, the precepts may still be followed without doing Jukai. If Jukai becomes a source of pride - clouding the mind - it might be better not to do it. I know of Roshis who did not do Jukai until just before they received transmission.

Towards the end of our koan study, the individual precepts are looked at as koans . In this context, Bodhidharma and Dogen’s brief comments on each precept is helpful. For this 5^th one, Bodhidharma added: “In the realm of the intrinsically pure dharma, not giving rise to delusions is called the precept of not giving or taking drugs.” And Dogen adds: “Drugs are not brought in yet. Don’t let them invade. That is the great light.”

 

Awareness of Body and Breath

Awareness of body and breath – insight, Prajna. The Heart Sutra, recited daily in Zen establishments, puts it in a nutshell. It begins: “When the Bodhisattva of Compassion was practicing deep awareness, she clearly saw that form, feeling, thought, choice and consciousness are all empty. Thus, transformng anguish and distress."

The 12^th Century Japanese teacher Dogen Zenji, in his Shobogenzo, wrote, “To study the way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all things. To be enlightened by all things is to remove the barrier between self and other.” This is also the source of compassion.

I have been re-reading Robert Aitken’s book, Taking the Path of Zen. He and Anne Aitken founded the Diamond Sangha lineage of Zen.

I found it interesting in the Dokusan room if I got off-topic how he brought the conversation back to the point of the koan that I was working on at the time.

For example, I said that in zazen I had the sensation of being surrounded by golden light. He asked, “What is the age of Mu?” – that is the koan I was working on at the time. Sometimes he put in something like, “That must be encouraging” or “that resonates.”

I believe this came from his deep faith in koan, and an understanding that words can go on forever and be all over the place, as well as, of course, to retain some kind of order and focus for himself and for me.

To my eye, Aitken Roshi and Michael Kieran Roshi - the current master at the Honolulu temple - are the clearest manifestations of the Kensho experience I have seen. I mean, something that is visible even before they speak.

Robert Aitken Roshi

Using the Self  (1981)

In the Ts'ai-ken t'an, a seventeenth-century Chinese book of brief essays and fables, we find this passage:

The wind blows through the bamboo grove, and the trunks clatter together. When it has passed, the grove is silent once more. Geese crossing the sky are reflected in a cold, deep pool. When they are gone, no trace remains. For the sage, when something comes, it is reflected in the mind. When it goes, the mind returns to the void.

We can test our practice with these metaphors. "What is it that does not die down in our mind?" Ask yourself that. It will probably turn out to be something that centers on yourself.

-oOo-

If the bomb goes up at last

I vow with all beings

To relinquish even the Earth

To the unborn there all along

From, The Morning Star, by Robert Aitken. Pages 179, 228

I usually do about half an hour of tai chi each morning in my garden. It’s very private, surrounded by trees. I become completely relaxed there, and quite unselfconscious.

I usually begin with five minutes of standing yoga asanas and a short karate breathing kata I learnt 50 years ago called sanchin.

I find this tai chi time very good for the Zen experience of “The falling away of body and mind,” also translated as, “Functioning as body and mind, but being completely free from body and mind.”

The tai chi seems to help move this from being just conceptual or something academic into an actual experience. Perhaps like in our kinhin.

To see that even though we are born, mature, decline and die, we are at the same time unborn and undying.