Author Archives: mgarmon

About mgarmon

b. 1959; grew up VA, NC, AL, GA; also lived in TX, TN, MN, and now in FL; m. 1979; 1 daughter, b 1980; 1 son, b. 1982; div. 1997; m. 2000; Honduran son, b. 1987, adopted 2004; schooled: U West Ga, Emory, Baylor, UVa; UTS; MLTS. Former philosophy professor, now a UU minister and zen student.

Mar. 12 – 25 (Two weeks)

ANNOUNCEMENT: Our regular Friday evening sit is cancelled for both Friday March 16 and Friday March 23. The Friday sit will resume in Friday March 30. Meredith will be away at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship’s retreat at Camp Montgomery on March 16, and away in Jacksonville for the Florida UU District Assembly on March 23. Our Friday sit will resume on March 30.

The experiential level is not some strange, exotic thing. It may be a tingling of the skin or a contraction in the chest or a tight face — the experiential level is quite basic and never far away. It’s what we are right now. The experiential level is nothing special, the the longer we sit, the more basic we know it to be.”

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Gateless Gate, #18 and Blue Cliff Record #12: Donghshan Shouchu’s ‘Masagin’

A monk asked Dongshan Shouchu, “What is Buddha?”

Dongshan said, “Three pounds of flax [‘Masagin’ in Japanese].”

Comment:

Dongshan Shouchu (“Tozan Shusho” in Japanese), b. 911
14th Generation
Lineage: Shitou > Tianhuang > Longtan > Deshan > Xuefeng > Yunmen > Dongshan Shouchu
Dharma Siblings: Baling, Xianglin, Fengxian, Deshan Yuanming
Appears also in: Gateless Gate #15

Thirty-five koans ago, we were looking at a similarly-structured koan: Gateless Gate #21:

A monk asked Yunmen, “What is Buddha?”
Yunmen said, “Dried shitstick [‘Kanshiketsu’ in Japanese].”

Now we are come to Gateless Gate #18, wherein Yunmen’s disciple, Dongshan Shouchu, is asked the same question: “What is Buddha?” Is the disciple’s answer the same as his teacher’s? Or completely different? Wumen included both Yunmen’s “Kanshiketsu” and Dongshan’s “Masagin” in his Gateless Gate, while Xuedou included only Dongshan’s “Masagin” in his Blue Cliff Record. Is “Masagin” more profound? Did Xuedou regard “dried shitstick” as shock-value-merely-for-shock-value’s-sake?

Thirty-seven koans ago, we heard the story of how Dongshan Shouchu, when studying with his teacher, Yunmen, was awakened. Gateless Gate #15:

Dongshan came to see Yunmen. Yunmen asked him, “Where were you most recently?”
Dongshan said, “At Chatu.”
Yunmen said, “Where were you during the summer?”
Dongshan said, “At Baozu Monastery in Hunan.”
Yunmen said, “When did you leave there?”
Dongshan said, “August 25th.”
Yunmen said, “I spare you 60 blows.”
Next day, Dongshan came again and said, “Yesterday you said you spared me 60 blows. I don’t know where I was at fault.”
Yunmen said, “You rice bag! Do you go about in such a way, now west of the river, now south of the lake!”
With this, Dongshan had great satori.

This week, we see that the “rice bag” has turned Yunmen’s “kanshiketsu” into “masagin” — turned the dried shitstick into three pounds of flax. What goes around comes around!

Wumen’s Verse:

Thrusting forth “three pounds of flax!”
The words are intimate, mind is more so;
if you argue right and wrong,
you are a person of right and wrong.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “False Generalization,” p. 173.

Mar. 5 – 11

A student said to Master Ichu, “Please write for me something of great wisdom.” Master Ichu picked up his brush and wrote one word: “Attention.” The student said, “Is that all?” The master wrote, “Attention. Attention.” The student became irritable. “That doesn’t seem profound or subtle to me.” In response, Master Ichu wrote simply, “Attention. Attention. Attention.” In frustration, the student demanded, “What does this word ‘attention’ mean?” Master Ichu replied, “Attention means attention.”

– Old Zen Story

This Week’s Koan

Book of Serenity, #46: Deshan’s “Study Accomplished”

Great Master Deshan Yuanming instructed his assembly and said, “If you have exhausted to the end, you will realize right away that all buddhas in the three worlds have stuck their mouths to the wall [i.e., they are unable to open their mouths]. Yet there is still one person who is giving a great laugh. If you can recognize that person, you have accomplished your study.”

Comment:

Deshan Yuanming (“Tokusan Emmyo” in Japanese), b. 909
14th Generation
Lineage: Shitou > Tianhuang > Longtan > Deshan > Xuefeng > Yunmen > Deshan Yuanming
Dharma Siblings: Baling, Xianglin, Dongshan Shouchu
Appears also in: No other koans in Gateless Gate, Blue Cliff Record, or Book of Serenity

On the radio a couple days ago I heard an interview with Teller (of Penn and Teller). Teller said that when people laugh, for an instant the critical, judging mind is turned off. So if a certain magician’s trick is likely to arouse a skepticism from an audience, then do or say something to make them laugh immediately afterward.

Words, words, words inherently tend to arouse our critical, evaluative mind. That’s OK. We need that mind — it’s got important work to do. Yet we also want to be in touch with the beauty of nonjudgmental awareness. That awareness is beyond all words — including even the Buddha’s words.  At the end of our “study,” not even the Buddha can have anything to say anymore. There is only the nonlinguistic awareness — which, for example, laughter represents.

Verse by Roberta Werdinger:

Over a spangled shoulder the sambista crooks her mouth:
Deshan! no flowers on this wall.
At the end of the line, a bright response twitters above rustling forms, dips down for a drink.
The sea is the street: the whole city pours through.
A thousand scampering feet, fingers pointing to just one moon.
When a foot meets earth with no hesitation, eons of toil are wiped away.
Only brocade? More fish to hook? Deshan!
Yemaya’s watery hands nagged the fat pink one flapping on your face.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Attention Means Attention,” p. 168.

Feb. 27 – Mar. 4

The person we counted on who didn’t come through, the job we failed to get, the physical ailment that worries us: instead of going round and round in our thoughts, worrying about the problem, if we reestablish the foundation of our lives in immediate experience, we will see how to act appropriately. . . . It sounds crazy to say that when we have a problem we should listen to the traffic. But if we truly listen, our other senses come to life also. We feel the contraction in our body, too. When we do that, something shifts, and how to respond becomes clearer.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Blue Cliff Record, #100: Baling and the Sharpest Sword

A monk asked Baling, “What is the sword against which a hair is blown?”

Baling said, “The moon sits on each branch of the coral.”

Comment:

Baling (“Haryo” in Japanese), b. 895?
14th Generation
Lineage: Shitou > Tianhuang > Longtan > Deshan > Xuefeng > Yunmen > Baling
Dharma Siblings: Deshan Yuanming, Xianglin, Dongshan Shouchu
Dharma Descendants: None of note
Appears also in: BCR #13

“Sword against which a hair is blown.” Also translated as, “the sharpest sword.” The idea is that the sword is so sharp that it would cut a hair blown against it by a gentle breeze.

“The moon sits on each branch of the the coral.” Also translated as, “Each branch of the coral embraces the bright moon.”

The sword represents Zen wisdom that cuts through all delusion and anxiety. The moonlight is essential nature, and the branches of coral are the relative world of multifarious objects. “The moon sits on the each branch of the coral,” means that essential nature, the absolute, shines through each ordinary, relative thing.

Imagine yourself standing by the water’s edge as twilight darkens into night. Beneath the gently rippling surface, branches of coral are visible. The ripples create reflections of the moon on each of the hundreds of branches of choral. What a beautiful image! If you were standing there, taking in this image, you wouldn’t be thinking about why the boss is mad at you (or why you’re mad at the boss), or how you’re going to get your kids to clean up their room. You’d be simply present to that beautiful moment. And that presence is the sharpest sword. Coming back to the present moment cuts through all afflictions.

John Tarrant:

Each twig of coral, each creature on earth or sea has its portion of the moonlight, and is sacred. Each moment of our lives, too, has its portion of the moonlight, a luminescence we obscure through our bustle and grasping but which we can reveal through spiritual practices. We may say too that each religion and each spiritual road has its shaft of moonlight. (Foreword to James Ford, This Very Moment, 1996)

Xuedou’s Verse,

To cut off discontent,
Rough methods may be best:
Now they slap, now they point.
The sword lies across the sky,
Snow glistens in its light,
no one can forge or sharpen it.
“The moon sits on each branch of the coral” —
Marvelous!

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Coming to Our Senses,” p. 158.

Feb. 20 – 26

To be simply what we are is the last thing we want to do….Master [Linji] said, “Do not spend even one thought in chasing after buddhahood.” That means to be ourselves as we are, in each moment, moment by moment. It’s all we ever need to to do.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Blue Cliff Record, #13: Baling’s “Snow in the Silver Bowl”

A monk asked Baling, “What is the school of Kanadeva?”

Baling said, “Snow in a silver bowl.”

Comment:

Baling (“Haryo” in Japanese), b. 895?
14th Generation
Lineage: Shitou > Daowu > Longtan > Deshan > Xuefeng > Yunmen > Baling
Dharma Siblings: Deshan Yuanming, Xianglin, Dongshan Shouchu
Dharma Descendants: None of note
Appears also in: BCR #100

Kanadeva (“Kanadaiba” or just “Daiba” in Japanese) was, according to legend, an Indian Buddhist master about 13 generations before Bodhidharma — i.e., around the year 200 BCE. Kanadeva was a student and disciple of another great Ancient Indian Buddhist philosopher, Nagarjuna. Kanadeva is said to have brought Buddhist philosophy to completion. Zen teaches that true nature cannot be understood by logic, can’t be explained in words, can’t be grasped by reason. Philosophical concepts cannot express but only obscure the true nature of things. So what about this Kanadeva fellow? He was strong in philosophical argument and adept at constructing — and deconstructing — elaborate conceptual schemas. What, if any, is the place of such debating skills on the Zen path?

Baling — placed about as many generations after Bodhidharma as Kanadeva was before — answers, “snow in a silver bowl.” If Buddhism is a silver bowl, the snow represents philosophical sophistication about Buddhism. Yes, the bowl will hold it. And, yes, it is rather pretty. It’s also quite cold.

Xuedou’s verse:

Remarkable, the old man of Shinkai Temple;
It was well said, that “Snow in the silver bowl.”
The ninety-six can learn for themselves what it means;
If they cannot, let them ask the moon in the sky.
The school of Kanadeva, Kanadeva’s school —
Scarlett banners flapping, the wind is cool!

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “The Paradox of Awareness,” p. 149.

Feb. 13 – 19

When events occur that we don’t like, we create pseudo problems and ge caught in them:
‘You insulted me! Of course, I’m angry!’
‘I’m so lonely. Nobody really cares about me.’
‘I’ve had a hard life. I’ve been abused.’
Our journey isn’t finished until we see there is no problem. How could there be a problem? My ‘problem’ is that I don’t like it. So out of my opinions, reactions, and judgments I build a castle in which I imprison myself. We remain imprisoned because we don’t recognize the castle or how to win our freedom. People are imprisoned in many different ways. For example, one castle can be the constant pursuit of an exciting and vibrant life, full of new things and enjoyment. People who live in this way are stimulating but hard to be around. What is your castle? What is your pseudoproblem? The answer is different from each person. If we begin to see that the current problem that upsets us is not the real issue in our lives, but merely a symptom of a deeper pattern, then we’re beginning to find our way out.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Blue Cliff Record, #17: Xianglin’s “Sitting for a Long Time”

A monk asked Xianglin, “What is the meaning of the Patriarch’s coming from the West?”

Xianglin said, “I am tired from sitting for a long time.”

Comment:

Xianglin (“Kyorin” in Japanese), b. 908
14th Generation
Lineage: Shitou > Daowu > Longtan > Deshan > Xuefeng > Yunmen > Xianglin
Dharma Siblings: Deshan Yuanming, Baling, Dongshan Shouchu
Dharma Descendants: Zhimen ->Xuedou

The question is a common one in Zen lore: Why did  Bodhidharma (the Patriarch) come from the West? Bodhidharma is the figure credited with founding Zen in China. He was born in India, and came west (and north) to China, sat in a cave for 9 years and then began teaching students in the tradition known in China as “Chan” and in Japan as “Zen.”  To ask for the meaning of Bodhidharma coming to China is to ask for the meaning of Zen practice. The monk is asking, What is this practice all about? Why do we do it?

Xianglin’s answer suggests that we do it in order to sit for a long time and become tired. Or: We do it in order to arrive where we are — which, at that moment, for Xianglin, was a state of being tired from long sitting.

Sekida notes: “When sitting, you are sitting; when you get tired, you get tired. There is no irritation, no regret: you are as you are, all of a piece.”

Barry Magid commented on this koan:

“All of us come to practice with basic questions we’re trying to answer. Perhpas we want to know how we should live our life; perhaps we are trying to understand hyow to deal with suffering or loss or problems in our relationships. . . . The monk is still looking for an answer beyond his own simple everyday experience of this moment. . . . In our daily practice, we must discover and express for ourselves the fundamental truth that this mind, this body, this moment is all that we have, is all that there is. We come to practice believing that our minds as they are, our bodies as they are, are the problem. . . . But practice will never teach us to exchange this mind for another one or to substitute this body for someone else’s. Nor are we here to train our body and mind, to turn them into new, improved versions of what we already have. . . . Listen to Xianglin: this tired old body is not the problem; it’s the answer.”

Xuedou’s verse:

One, two, and tens of hundreds of thousands,
Take off the muzzle and set down the load.
If you turn left and right, following another’s lead,
I would strike you as Zihu struck Liu Tiemo.  

Liu Teimo [“Ryutetsuma” in Japanese], born ca. 800, a.k.a. “Iron Grinder Liu” is one of the few women who is mentioned in Chan literature as a Zen adept. As Chinese monasteries were off limits for women, she lived at the base of Mt. Guishan, and had interactions with Chan monks and students as they traveled in and out of Guishan’s monastery. She got her nickname of “Iron Grinder” from the fact that she used to grind the young monks minds to dust with her responses to them. Iron Grinder Liu has carved a unique niche for herself in the annals of Zen. See BCR 24/BOS 60. Female Zen adepts also figure in GG 31/BOS 10, and Wumen’s comment on GG 28.

Zihu was a disciple of Nanquan and a dharma sibling of Zhouzhou and Changsha. Zihu himself famously addressed the question of Bodhidharma coming from the west: “The Patriarch’s coming from the west only means that winter is cold and summer is hot, night is dark and day is light.” Xuedou’s verse references this story:
One day Liu Tiemo appeared unexpectedly before Zihu.
Zihu said, “Are you not Liu Tiemo?”
Liu said, “I don’t presume to say so.”
Zihu said, “Do you turn left or right?”
Liu said, “Don’t tip over, Teacher.”
Zihu struck her whil her words were still in the air.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “The Castle and the Moat,” p. 138.

Feb. 6 – 12

Let’s imagine for a moment that humans are large ice cubes, about two feet along each edge, with little heads and spindly feet. This is our life as humans most of the time, running about like ice cubes, bumping into one another sharply. Often we hit each other hard enough to shatter our edges. To protect ourselves we freeze as hard as we can and hope that when we collide with others, they will shatter before we do. We freeze because we’re afraid. Our fear makes us rigid, fixed, and hard, and we create mayhem as we bump into others. Any obstacle or unexpected difficulty is likely to shatter us.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Gateless Gate #9: Xingyang’s Nonattained Buddha

Once a monk earnestly asked Xingyang, “Daitsu Chisho Buddha sat in the meditation hall for ten kalpas, but the Dharma of the Buddha did not manifest itself and he could not attain buddhaood. Why was this?”

Xingyang replied, “Your question is reasonable indeed.”

The monk said, “He sat in zazen in the meditation hall. Why did he not attain Buddhahood?”

Xingyang replied, “Because he is a non-attained Buddha.”

Comment:

The Tang dynasty saw the emergence of the fabled “Five Houses of Zen”. One of these five was the Guiyang (“Igyo” in Japanese) House, named for its founders, Guishan (b. 771) and Guishan’s dharma heir, Yangshan (b. 807). In this koan we meet Xingyang (b. 910), the dharma great-great-grandson of Guishan and dharma great-grandson of Yangshan.  After the Xingyang, the Guiyang House disappeared into obscurity and its monks and students eventually died out or were absorbed into one of the other lineages. Thus Xingyang is essentially the last of the great Guiyang House. He was the immediate dharma successor of Bajiao Huiqing (“Basho Esei” in Japanese), who came from Korea in search of a worthy teacher — and found one in Master Nanta of the Guiyang House.

The Houses that have survived down to this day are the Linji (“Rinzai” in Japanese) and the Caodong (“Soto” in Japanese). These are the official lineages. From the Tang Dynasty down to today, many students have studied long years in one lineage, but ended up receiving their dharma transmission is a cousin lineage. So the Zen of Guishan and Yangshan lives on, not just through the literature we have about them, but through the cross-pollination across Zen lines that went on in their time and in ours.

Still, the different lines do have somewhat different flavors. The Linji schools of Zen — historically and today — are characterized by a struggle to attain awakening. The Caodong schools put more emphasis on letting go of the struggle. This is a small and comparative difference, for each “side” would recognize that “struggling to attain” and “letting go of the struggle” are each only half the story.

So we come to the last of the Guiyang House for a teaching that bridges the gap between the Linji and Caodong Houses. Daitsu Chiso did not attain. Why not? Because he is a non-attained Buddha. So: is there any such thing as an “attained Buddha”? Is a non-attained Buddha the “worst kind”? The “best kind”? The only kind?

My teacher’s teacher, Yamada Koun, addressed the practitioners at a retreat and said:

All of you are Buddhas from the beginning and will never attain Buddhahood again, no matter how long yo sit in samadhi. Can water get any wetter? Can gold become gold again? Can completeness become more complete? Can emptiness become empty?

Wumen’s Verse:

Far better than realizing the body is to realize the mind and be at peace.
If the mind is realized, there is no anxiety about the body;
If both body and mind are completely realized,
A holy hermit doe not wish to be appointed lord.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Melting Ice Cubes,” p. 132.

Jan. 30 – Feb 5

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We would rather be ruined than changed — even though change is who we are. We would rather die in our anxiety, our fear, our loneliness, than climb the cross of the moment and let our illusions die. And the cross is also the crossroads, the choice. We are here to make that choice.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Blue Cliff Record #38: Fengxue’s “Heart Seal”

When he was staying at the government office of the Province Eishu, Fengxue entered the hall [to preach] and said: “The heart seal [i.e., “stamp” and also “the form of the heart-mind”] of the patriarch [i.e., Bodhidharma] resembles the activity of the iron ox [a massive construction along the Yellow River that protected the area from floods]. When it goes away, the [impression of the] seal remains; when it stays there, the [impression of the] seal is brought to naught. If it neither goes away nor stays, would it be right to give a seal [of approval] or not?”

Then Elder Rohi came up and said, “I have the activities of the iron ox. [However,] I ask you, Master, not to give me the seal.”

Fengxue said, “I am accustomed to leveling the great ocean through fishing whales. But, alas, now I find instead a frog wriggling about in the mud.”

Rohi stood there considering.

Fengxue shouted, “Kaatz!” He then said, “Why don’t you say anything else, Elder?”

Rohi was perplexed.

Fengxue hit him with his whisk and said, “Do you remember what you said? Say something, I’ll check it for you.”

Rohi tried to say something. Fuketsu hit him again with his whisk.

The Magistrate said, “Buddha’s law and the King’s law are of the same nature.”

Fengxue said, “What principle do you see in them?”

The Magistrate said, “If you do not make a decision where a decision should be made, you are inviting disorder.”

Fengxue descended from the rostrum.

Comment:

This is our second koan featuring Fengxue (b. 896; Japanese: “Fuketsu”), who began Zen study under Jingqing on the Caodong (Soto) side of our lineage. Then he studied under Nanyuan on the Linji (Rinzai) side and became Linji’s dharma great-grandson.

“If the seal is removed, the impression is left; if it is not removed, the impression does not appear.” If the object is removed, subjective impression remains. If the object is all there is (i.e., is not removed), then there is no subjectivity (impression).  To “neither go nor stay” would be to transcend subjectivity and objectivity.

Rohi claims to have realized the heart seal, and that he does not need Fengxue’s approval, so he asks Fengxue not to give him the heart seal. Fengxue rebukes Rohi, calling him “a frog wriggling about in the mud.” This is Fengxue’s test to see if Rohi’s attainment is genuine. Rohi seems to be stumped, and Fengxue urges him on, then strikes him to signal his disapproval.

The government official, watching this exchange between Zen teacher and student, compares Rohi’s indecision to disorder that arises when government is indecisive.

Xuedou’s Verse:

Holding Rohi to let him ride the iron ox
He used the armor of Linji’s three mysteries.
The stream that ran to greet the lord’s palace —
With one shout he made it flow backward.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Experiences and Experiencing,” p. 118.

Jan. 23 – 29

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The path of life seems to be mostly difficulties, things that give trouble. Yet the longer we practice, the more we begin to understand that those sharp rocks on the road are in fact like precious jewels.

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Gateless Gate #24: Leaving Speech and Silence Behind

A monk asked Fengxue in all earnestness, “Both speech and silence are concerned with ri [subject] and mi [object]. How can we transcend them?”

Fengxue said, “I constantly think of Konan in March, where partridges are chirping among hundreds of fragrant blossoms.”

Comment:

Fengxue (b. 896; Japanese: “Fuketsu”) began Zen study under Jingqing on the Caodong (Soto) side of our lineage. Then he studied under Nanyuan on the Linji (Rinzai) side and became Linji’s dharma great-grandson.

The fourth-century text, Treatise on the Jewel Treasury, says:

“To enter is ri, to come out is mi.
When we enter ri, the dust of the outer world has no place to adhere.
When we come out to mi, the inner mind has nothing to do with it.”

That is, if we separate from the phenomenal world and enter into the inner world, that is ri. When we come out of the inner world, that is called mi. Speech is of mi, the phenomenal world, and silence is of ri, separated from the phenomenal world. Thus, both speech and silence are connected with subject and object — with the dualistic world. The monk seeks to transcend these dualistic concepts.

Subject and object are intrinsically one. “Only I, alone and sacred,” is the same as, “No I.” Fengxue’s reply manifests a consciousness in which there is neither subject nor object — neither “only I, alone and sacred,” nor “no I.”

“I constantly think of Konan in March, where partridges are chirping among hundreds of fragrant blossoms,” is Fengxue’s way of transcending speech and silence, ri and mi. Now show me yours.

Wumen’s Verse:

Fengxue does not speak in his usual style;
Before he says anything, it is already manifested.
If you go on chattering glibly,
You should be ashamed of yourself.

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Preparing the Ground,” p. 113.

Jan. 16 – 22

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I recommend a practice to help us catch ourselves in the act of judging: whenever we say the name of another person, we should watch what we add to the name. What do we say or think about the person? What kind of label do we use? Do we put the person into some category?

– Joko Beck

This Week’s Koan

Blue Cliff Record #95: Changqing’s “Three Poisons”

One day Changqing said, “Even if you argue that an arhat [a person who has reached the spiritual dimension without any traces of ‘the three poisons’: covetousness, anger, folly] still possesses ‘the three poisons’, don’t argue that the Tathagata has two sorts of language. I do not say the Tathagata has no words. I only say he does not have two kinds of language.”

Baofu said, “What are the words of the Tathagata?”

Changqing said, “How can a deaf man hear?”

Baofu said, “Now I know that your language belongs to the second level.”

Changqing said, “What are the words of the Tathagata?”

Baofu said, “Have some tea.”

Comment:

Baofu (Japanese: Hofuku, b. 868), and Changqing (Japanese: Chokei, b. 854) were companions and dharma brothers, disciples of Xuefeng (Japanese: Seppo, b. 822). Many koans show them bantering and playing off each other — testing and challenging and sharpening their zen.

There is, we sometimes say. the language of emptiness, the absolute, the timeless. There is, we sometimes say, the language of form, the relative, the temporal. Changqing says the Tathagata (one the titles of the Buddha) does not have two kinds of language. He may seem to be talking about the absolute, but, since the absolute is the relative, he’s talking just as much about the relative. He may seem to be talking about the relative, but, since the relative is the absolute, he’s talking just as much about the absolute.

This time Baofu gets the last line: “Have some tea.” Don’t imagine that he’s changing the subject. He is directly and immediately manifesting the Tathagata’s not-two language. He is showing what the words of the Tathagata are. Do you see?

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “Do Not Judge,” p. 103.

Jan. 9 – 15

We are free ourselves insofar as our lives become more playful. Playing is what we are doing when we do not need to gain something from a situation.

– D. Loy and L. Goodhew

This Week’s Koan
Blue Cliff Record #23
Baofu and Changqing Go on a Picnic

Once Baofu and Changqing went out on a picnic in the hills.
Baofu, pointing with a finger, said, “Right here is the summit of Myo Peak.” [Literally, “The Peak of Wonder”]
Changqing said, “Exactly. But, it’s regrettable.”
(Xuedou commented saying, “What’s the use of making an excursion with these fellows today?”
He again said, “Hundreds and thousands of years from now, I don’t say that there will be none like him, only that there will be very few.”)
Later, they reported to Jingqing about it. Jingqing said, “If it weren’t for Changqing, you would see only skeletons in the field.”

Comment:
Baofu (Japanese: Hofuku, b. 868), and Changqing (Japanese: Chokei, b. 854) are often seen as companions, bantering and playing off each other. Baofu, Changqing, Jingqing (Japanese: Kyosei, b. 867), along with Yunmen (Japanese: Ummon, b. 864) were dharma brothers, disciples of Xuefeng (Japanese: Seppo, b. 822).
Katsuki Sekida’s translation replaces Changqing’s “But, it’s regrettable” with the simple and poignant, “Alas.”
What is that “alas”? We stand upon the peak of wonder. Wherefore, “alas”?

This Week’s Reading

Charlotte Joko Beck, Nothing Special, “The Tomato Fighters,” p. 97.

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