Luch Machiavelli's List: Zen

• story, dialogue, question, or statement in the history and lore of Chán (Zen) Buddhism, generally containing aspects that are inaccessible to rational understanding
• yet may be accessible to intuition
• Kōans are said to reflect the enlightened or awakened state of such persons, and sometimes said to confound the habit of discursive thought or shock the mind into awareness.
• • this is like rapping
• "checking questions" to validate an experience of insight (kensho) or awakening.
• xpect students to present an appropriate response when asked about a kōan.
• "Even though that is true, if you do not know it yourself it does you no good
• evidence that the disciple has actually grasped the state of mind expressed
• any answer could be correct, provided that it conveys proof of personal realization.
• who has the "eye" to see a disciple's depth of attainment.

8 more annotations...

• do the Koans with matt -- get a book for him--Alan Watts - Luch Machiavelli on 2009-02-17

• 82. Nothing Exists

  • sent to matt march23-09

• THE STUDENT   Tokusan used to come to the master Ryutan in the
    evenings to talk and to listen. One night it was very late before
    he was finished asking questions.

   

  "Why don't   you go to bed?" asked Ryutan.

   

  Tokusan bowed,   and lifted the screen to go out. "The hall is very
    dark," he said.

   

  "Here,   take this candle," said Ryutan, lighting one for the
    student.

   

  Tokusan reached   out his hand, and took the candle.

   

  Ryutan leaned   forward, and blew it out.

• BODHIDHARMA   left his robe and bowl to his chosen successor; and
    each patriarch thereafter handed it down to the monk that, in his
    wisdom, he had chosen as the next successor. Gunin was the fifth
    such Zen patriarch. One day he announced that his successor would
    be he who wrote the best verse expressing the truth of their sect.
    The learned chief monk of Gunin's monastery thereupon took brush
    and ink, and wrote in elegant characters:

   

  The body is   a Bodhi-tree
    The soul a shining mirror:
    Polish it with study
    Or dust will dull the image.

   

  No other monk   dared compete with the chief monk. But at twilight
    Yeno, a lowly disciple who had been working in the kitchen, passed
    through the hall where the poem was hanging. Having read it, he
    picked up a brush that was lying nearby, and below the other poem
    he wrote in his crude hand:

   

  Bodhi is not   a tree;
    There is no shining mirror.
    Since All begins with Nothing
    Where can dust collect?

• Later that   night Gunin, the fifth patriarch, called Yeno to his
    room. "I have read your poem," said he, "and have chosen you   as my
    successor. Here: take my robe and my bowl. But our chief monk and
    the others will be jealous of you and may do you harm. Therefore I
    want you to leave the monastery tohight, while the others are
    asleep."

   

  In the morning   the chief monk learned the news, and immediately
    rushed out, following the path Yeno had taken. At midday he
    overtook him, and without a word tried to pull the robe and bowl
    out of Yeno's hands.

   

  Yeno put down   the robe and the bowl on a rock by the path. "These
    are only things which are symbols," he said to the monk. "If you
    want the things so much, please take them."

   

  The monk eagerly   reached down and seized the objects. But he could
    not budge them. They had become heavy as a mountain.

   

  "Forgive   me," he said at last, "I really want the teaching, not
    the things. Will you teach me?"

   

  Yeno replied,   "Stop thinking this is mine and stop thinking this
    is not mine. Then tell me, where are you? Tell me also: what did
    your face look like, before your parents were born?"

• A FAMOUS soldier   came to the master Hakuin and asked: "Master,
    tell me: is there really a heaven and a hell?"

   

  "Who are   you?" asked Hakuin.

   

  "I am   a soldier of the great Emperor's personal guard."

   

  "Nonsense!"   said Hakuin. "What kind of emperor would have you
    around him? To me you look like a beggar!" At this, the soldier
    started to rattle his big sword in anger. "Oho!" said Hakuin. "So
    you have a sword! I'll wager it's much too dull to cut my head
    off!"

   

  At this the   soldier could not hold himself back. He drew his sword
    and threatened the master, who said: "Now you know half the
    answer! You are opening the gates of hell!"

   

  The soldier   drew back, sheathed his sword, and bowed. "Now you
    know the other half," said the master. "You have opencd the gates
    of heaven."

• A WRESTLER   named O-nami, Great Waves, was immensely strong and was
    highly skilled in the art of wrestling. In private he defeated
    even his very teacher, but in public his own young pupils could
    throw him.

   

  In his trouble   he went to a Zen master who was stopping at a
    nearby temple by the sea, and asked for counsel.

   

  "Great   Waves is your name," said the master, "so stay in this
    temple tonight, and listen to the waves of the sea. Imagine you
    are those waves. Forget that you are a wrestler, and become those
    huge waves sweeping everything before them." And the teacher left.

   

  O-nami remained.   He tried to think only of the waves, but he
    thought of many things. Then gradually he did think only of the
    waves. They rolled larger and larger as the night wore on. They
    swept away the flowers in the vases before the Buddha. They swept
    away the vases. Even the bronze Buddha was swept away. By dawn the
    temple was only surging water, and O-nami sat there with a faint
    smile on his face.

   

  That day he   entered the public wrestling, and won every bout. From
    that day, no one in Japan could ever throw him.

3 more annotations...

• intended to shock our minds into a state of awareness and wakefulness beyond the analgesic zombie-walk in which we spend the better part of most of our days
• Two monks, a teacher and a disciple, are traveling when they come to a river. Standing on the bank is a beautiful young maiden who bemoans the fact that she cannot cross the swift waters. It is a strict rule in the monks' order that they should avoid all contact with women, and so the student looks away from her and does not respond to her in any way. Meanwhile, his teacher has spoken with her briefly, and then picks her up and carriers her across the stream. Having set the maiden down, the monk and his disciple continue on their way.

  All day as they walk in silence, the disciple is troubled: one of the central edicts of their order is to avoid all contact with women, and yet his teacher—who is a very pious man, and for whom the student has an enormous amount of respect—touched this woman intimately, lifted her up, held her to his breast, and bore her across the river. How could he resolve these actions—noble as they are—against the fact that they so clearly violate such a straightforward rule?

  Finally, that night, after they've made camp and eaten their simple dinner of boiled rice and dried fish, the student asks: "Master, is it not the case that we are to avoid all contact with women?"

  The teacher nods in agreement.

  "But this morning, back at the river, you spoke to that young woman, you touched that woman, you carried her across the waters—"

  "Yes, and I left her at the riverside. You've been carrying her all day."

• The first line contains the initial phrase; the second line, the continuation of that phrase; the third line turns from this subject and begins a new one; and the fourth line brings the first three lines together. A popular Japanese song illustrates this: