some koans

A master who lived as a hermit on a mountain was asked by a monk, “What is the Way?”
“What a fine mountain this is,” the master said in reply.
“I am not asking you about the mountain, but about the Way.”
“So long as you cannot go beyond the mountain, my son, you cannot reach the Way,” replied the master.

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The master Kosen drew the first words “The First Principle” which are carved over the gate of the Oaku Temple in Kyoto. He drew them with his brush on a sheet of paper – later they were carved in wood.
A pupil of the master had mixed the ink for him, and stood by, watching the master’s calligraphy. This pupil said: “Not so good!” Kosen tried again. The pupil said: “That’s worse than the first one!” and Kosen tried again.
After the sixty-fourth try, the ink was running low, and the pupil went out to mix some more. Left alone, undistracted by any critical eye watching him, Kosen made one more quick drawing with the last of the ink. When the pupil returned, he took a good look at this latest effort.
“A masterpiece!” he said.

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Joshu asked a monk who appeared for the first time in the hall, “Have I ever seen you here before?” The monk answered, “No sir, you have not.”
“Then have a cup of tea,” said Joshu.
He turned to another monk. “Have I ever seen you here before?” he said. “Yes sir, of course you have,” said the second monk.
“Then have a cup of tea,” said Joshu.
Later, the managing monk of the monastery asked Joshu, “How is it that you make the same offer of tea whatever the reply to your question?”
At this Joshu shouted, “Manager, are you still here?”
“Of course, master!” the manager answered.
“Then have a cup of tea,” said Joshu.

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The student Doken was told to go on a long journey to another monastery. He was much upset, because he felt that this trip would interrupt his studies for many months. So he said to his friend the advanced student Sogen:
“Please ask permission to come with me on the trip. There are so many things I do not know; but if you come along we can discuss them – in this way I can learn as we travel.”
“All right,” said Sogen. “But let me ask you a question: If you are hungry, what satisfaction to you if I eat rice? If your feet are lame, what comfort to you if I go merrily? If your bladder is full, what relief to you if I piss?”

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The student Tokusan used to come to the master Ryutan in the evenings to talk and listen. One night it was very late before he 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.

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Shuzan held up his staff and waved it before his monks.
“If you call this a staff,” he said, “you deny its eternal life. If you do not call this a staff, you deny its present fact. Tell me, just what do you propose to call it?”

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Seikso said: “A man sits on top of a hundred-foot pole. How can he go farther up?”
A master answered: “He should reach for enlightenment. Then he can stand up into all four corners of the sky at once.”

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Sekkyo said to one of the monks, “Can you get hold of Emptiness?”
“I’ll try,” said the monk, and he cupped his hands in the air.
“That’s not very good,” said Sekkyo. “You haven’t got anything in there!”
“Well, master,” said the monk, “please show me a better way.”
Thereupon Sekkyo seized the monk’s nose and gave it a yank.
“Ouch!” yelled the monk. “You hurt me!”
“That’s the way to get hold of Emptiness!” said Sekkyo.

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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 the Bodhi-tree
The soul is a shinning 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 shinning 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. “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 others will be jealous of you and may do you harm. Therefore I want you to leave the monastery tonight, 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 the 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?”

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Goso said: “Suppose you meet a Zen master on the road. You can’t talk to him. You can’t stand there silent. What can you do?”
(“To this koan, one of Mummon’s comments was “Whack him one!”)

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A famous soldier came to the master Hakuin and asked: “Master, tell me: is there really a heaven or 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 opened the gates of heaven.”

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The student Doko came to a Zen master, and said: “I am seeking the truth. In what state of mind should I train myself, so as to find it?”
Said the master, “There is no mind, so you cannot put it in any state. There is no truth, so you cannot train yourself for it.”
“If there is no mind to train, and no truth to find, why do you have these monks gather before you every day to study Zen and train themselves for this study?”
“But I haven’t an inch of room here,” said the master, “so how could the monks gather? I have no tongue, so how could I call them together or teach them?”
“Oh, how can you lie like this?” asked Doko.
“But if I have no tongue to talk to others, how can I lie to you?” asked the master.
Then Doko said sadly, “I cannot follow you. I cannot understand you.”
“I cannot understand myself,” said the master.

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Baso said to a monk, “If you have a staff I will give it to you. If I see you have no staff, I will take it away from you.”

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The teacher Nansen found two groups of monks, from the East hall and the
West hall, squabbling over the ownership of a pet cat. He picked up the cat, waved it in the air over his head, and said to the quarrelers:
“Say a good word if you want to save the cat!”
No one said a word. Nansen went to the kitchen, brought back a big cleaver, and chopped the cat in half. He gave one-half to each group.
That night when Joshu returned to the monastery, Nansen told him the story. Joshu said nothing; but he took off his sandals, balanced them on his head, and walked away.
Nansen said aloud, “Joshu could have saved the cat.”

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Little Toyo was only twelve years old. But since he was a pupil at the Kennin temple, he wanted to be given a koan to ponder, just like the more advanced students. So one evening, at the proper time, he went to the room of Mokurai, the master, struck the gong softly to announce his presence, bowed, and sat before the master in respectful silence.
Finally the master said: “Toyo, show me the sound of two hands clapping.”
Toyo clapped his hands.
“Good,” said the master. “Now show me the sound of one hand clapping.”
Toyo was silent. Finally he bowed and left to consider this problem.
The next night he returned, and struck the gong with one palm. “That is not right,” said the master. The next night Toyo returned and played geisha music with one hand. “That is not right,” said the master. The next night Toyo returned, and imitated the dripping of water. “That is not right,” said the master. The next night Toyo returned, and imitated the cricket scraping his leg. “That is still not right,” said the master.
For ten nights Toyo tried new sounds. At last he stopped coming to the master. For a year he thought of every sound, and discarded them all, until finally he reached enlightenment.
He returned respectively to the master. Without striking the gong, he sat down and bowed. “I have heard sound without sound,” he said.

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A monk came to the master Nansen and asked, “Tell me, is there some teaching that no master has ever taught?”
Nansen said, “There is.”
The monk asked, “Can you tell me what it is?”
Nansen said, “It is not Buddha. It is not things. It is not thinking.”

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Butsugen said to his disciples: “Each of you has a pair of ears, but what have you ever heard with them? Each of you has a mouth, but what have you ever said with it? Each of you has eyes, but what have you ever seen with them? No, no!
You have never heard, never spoken, never seen, never smelled.
“But in such a case where do all these colours, shapes, sounds, smells, come from?”

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Who is the Buddha? What is the Buddha? Here are some of the answers given by various masters to this question:
Something of clay, with gold-leaf.
The one there in the hall.
He isn’t Buddha.
The mountains are traveling over the sea.
Look at that three-legged donkey.
Dry shit.
The mouth is the gateway of woe.
The best artist doesn’t know how to paint him.
The bamboo grove out in back.

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The master Gutei made a practice of raising his finger whenever he explained a question about Zen. A very young disciple began to imitate him, and every time Gutei raised his finger when he preached, this boy would raise his finger too. Everybody laughed.
One day Gutei caught him at it. He took the boy’s hand, whipped out a knife, cut off the finger and threw it away. The boy walked off howling.
“Stop!” shouted Gutei. The boy stopped, and looked at the master through his tears. Gutei raised his finger. The boy raised his finger. Then suddenly he realized it wasn’t there. He hesitated a moment:
Then he bowed.

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The master Ikkyu showed his wisdom even as a child. Once he broke the precious heirloom teacup of his teacher, and was greatly upset. While he was wondering what to do, he heard his teacher coming. Quickly he hid the pieces of the cup under his robe.
“Master,” he said, “why do things die?”
“It is perfectly natural for things to die and for the matter gathered in them to separate and disintegrate,” said the teacher. “When its time has come every person and everything must go.”
“Master,” said little Ikkyu, showing the pieces, “it was time for your cup to go.”

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Wakuan stood in front of a picture of Bodhidharma. In the picture Bodhidharma was wearing a beard.
“Now why doesn’t that fellow wear a beard?” asked Wakuan.

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In Tetsugen’s time the holy Buddhist books in Chinese had never been published in Japanese, and Tetsugen thought they should be prepared so for his own countrymen. He planned to have several thousand copies printed from hand engraved woodblocks, and went from town to town to collect donations so this great work could go ahead. After ten years he had the money needed, and started to have the blocks cut.
Just then the Uji river flooded, and there was famine in the land. Tetsugen took the money he had collected, and bought rice for the starving people. Then he started out to collect his funds again. Whether the donation was a little one or in coins of gold, he was equally grateful. After some years, he had the money again.
Then an epidemic passed over the country. Thousands of families were left without support. So Tetsugen spent all the money he had collected, helping the helpless. When it was all gone, he started collecting again.
Finally his great project was accomplished, and he died content. Tetsugen’s edition of the holy books in Japanese can still be seen. But those who know, say that the first two editions, which have never been seen, far surpass the third.

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The master Nan-in had a visitor who came to inquire about Zen. But instead of listening, the visitor kept talking about his own ideas.
After a while, Nan-in served tea. He poured tea into his visitor’s cup until it was full, then he kept on pouring.
Finally the visitor could not restrain himself. “Don’t you see it’s full?” he said. “You can’t get any more in!”
“Just so,” replied Nan-in, stopping at last. “And like this cup, you are filled with your own ideas. How can you expect me to give you Zen unless you offer me an empty cup?”

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A master was asked the question, “What is the Way?” by a curious monk.
“It is right before your eyes,” said the master.
“Why do I not see it for myself?”
“Because you are thinking of yourself.”
“What about you: do you see it?”
“So long as you see double, saying I don’t and you do, and so on, your eyes are clouded,” said the master.
“When there is neither ‘I’ nor ‘You,’ can one see it?”
“When there is neither ‘I’ nor ‘You,’ who is the one that wants to see it?”

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The nun Chiyono studied for years but was unable to find enlightenment. One moonlight night she was carrying an old pail, filled with water. She was watching the full moon reflected in this water, when the bamboo strip that held the pail-staves broke. The pail fell all apart; the water rushed out; the moon’s reflection disappeared. And Chiyono found enlightenment. She wrote this verse:

This way and that way
I tried to keep the pail together
Hoping the weak bamboo
Would never break.

Suddenly the bottom fell out:
No more water:
No more moon in the water:
Emptiness in my hand!

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A student came before the master Bankei and asked to be helped in getting rid of his violent temper.
“Show me this temper,” said Benkei. “It sounds very fascinating.”
“I haven’t got it right now, so I can’t show it to you,” said the student.
“Well then,” said Benkei, “bring it to me when you have it.”
“But I can’t bring it just when I happen to have it,” protested the student. “I’d surely lose it again before I got to you.”
“In such a case,” said Benkei, “it seems to me that this temper is not part of you, it must come into you from outside. I suggest that whenever it gets into you, you beat yourself with a stick until the temper can’t stand it, and runs away.”

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A new monk came up to the master Joshu. “I have just entered the brotherhood and I am anxious to learn the first principle of Zen,” he said. “Will you please teach it to me?”
Joshu said, “Have you eaten your supper?”
The novice answered, “I have eaten.”
Joshu said, “Now wash your bowl.”

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Bodhidharma sat facing a wall for nine years of meditation. At one time a Confucian monk came to him for teaching. But Bodhidharma sat unmoving and unspeaking for seven days and nights, while the monk pleaded for his attention. Finally the monk could not stand it no more, and to show his sincerity, he took a sword, cut off his arm, and carried it to Bodhidharma.
He said: “Here is a token of my sincerity. I have been seeking peace for my soul for many years, and I know that you can show me how to find it.”
Bodhidharma said, “Do not bring me your arm. Bring me your soul, so I can give it peace as you request.”
“But that is the very trouble,” said the monk, “I cannot grasp my soul or find it, much less bring it to you.”
“You see,” said Bodhidharma, “I have given you peace of soul.”

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A great official came to the master Takuan asking for help in passing his days more eventfully. All day long, he explained, he sat receiving supplications and reports, and he found it all very dull. Takuan took brush and paper, and wrote eight Chinese characters. Translated they said:

No day comes back again:
One inch of time is worth
A foot of jade.

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Kokushi called to his attendant: “Oshin!”
Oshin replied, “Yes.”
Kokushi called, “Oshin!”
Oshin replied, “Yes.”
Kokushi called again, “Oshin!”
Oshin replied again, “Yes.”
Kokushi said, “I apologize for all this calling of your name. But in truth you should apologize to me!”

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Matajura wanted to become a great swordsman, but his father said he wasn’t quick enough and could never learn. So Matajura went to the famous dueler Banzo, and asked to become his pupil. “How long will it take me to become a master?” he asked. “Suppose I become your servant, to be with you every minute; how long?”
“Ten years,” said Banzo.
“My father is getting old. Before ten years have passed I will have to return home and take care of him. Suppose I work twice as hard; how long will it take me?”
“Thirty years,” said Banzo.
“How is that?” asked Matajura. “First you say ten years. Then when I offer to work twice as hard, you say it will take me three times as long. Let me make myself clear: I will work unceasingly: no hardship will be too much. How long will it take?”
“Seventy years,” said Banzo. “A pupil in such a hurry learns slowly.”
Matajura understood. Without asking for any promises in terms of time, he became Banzo’s servant. He cleaned, he cooked, he washed, he gardened. He was ordered never to speak of fencing or to touch a sword. He was very sad at this; but he had given his promise to the master, and resolved to keep his word. Three years passed for Matajura as a servant.
One day while he was gardening, Banzo came up quietly behind him and gave him a terrible whack with a wooden sword. The next day in the kitchen the same blow fell again. Thereafter, day in, and day out, from every corner and at any moment, he was attacked by Banzo’s wooden sword. He learned to live on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge at any movement. He became a body with no desires, no thought – only eternal readiness and quickness.
Banzo smiled, and started lessons. Soon Matajura was the greatest swordsman in Japan.

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The master Getsuan said: “Keichu, the first wheel maker, made two wheels. Each had fifty spokes. Suppose you cut out the hubs? Would there still be a wheel?”

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Joshu asked the teacher Nansen, “What is the true Way?”
Nansen answered, “Everyday way is the true Way.”
Joshu asked, “Can I study it?”
Nansen answered, “The more you study, the further from the Way.”
Joshu asked, “If I don’t study it, how can I know it?”
Nansen answered, “The Way does not belong to things seen: nor to things unseen. It does not belong to things known: nor to things unknown. Do not seek it, study it, or name it. To find yourself on it, open yourself wide as the sky.”

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Yamaoka, a master in Zen and a great fencer, served as a tutor to the Emperor. But he always wore old ragged clothes, for he opened his house to the poor, and gave them everything he had.
The Emperor was annoyed that Yamaoka came to him with old clothes, so he gave the master some gold coins saying, “Go, my son, and buy new clothes.” The master thanked him; but the next day he returned in the same old outfit.
“And where are the new clothes?” asked the Emperor.
“I bought them,” said the master, “but I gave them to other children of your Majesty who are not so rich as I.”

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The master Tozan was weighing some flax. A monk came up to him in the storeroom and said, “Tell me, what is Buddha?”
Tozan answered, “Here: five pounds of flax.”

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The master Foso Hoyen said, “They say that Buddha during his lifetime uttered five thousand and forty-eight separate truths. They include the truth of Emptiness and the truth of Being. They include the truth of sudden enlightenment and the truth of gradual enlightenment. Are not all these yea-sayings?
“But on the other hand, Yoka in the Song of Enlightenment says there are no beings and no Buddhas; sages are sea-bubbles; and great minds are only the flickerings of lightening. Are not all these nay-sayings?
“Oh my disciples, if you say Yea, you deny Yoka; if you say Nay, you contradict Buddha. If Buddha were here with you, how would he solve this problem?
“If we knew where we stand, we would question Buddha every morning, and greet him every night. But as we don’t know where we stand, I will let you into a secret: When I say this is so, perhaps it is not a yea-saying. When I say this is not so, perhaps it is not a nay-saying. Turn to the East and see the holy Western Land; face South to see the Northern Star.”

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Two monks, Tanzan and Ekido, were walking down a muddy street in the city. They came on a lovely young girl dressed in fine silks, who was afraid to cross because of all the mud.
“Come on, girl,” said Tanzan. And he picked her up in his arms, and carried her across.
The two monks did not speak again till nightfall. Then, when they had returned to the monastery, Ekido couldn’t keep quite any longer.
“Monks shouldn’t go near girls,” he said – “certainly not beautiful ones like that one! Why did you do it?”
“My dear fellow,” said Tanzan. “I put that girl down, way back in the city. It’s you who are still carrying her!”

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Joshu was a master who started to study Zen when he was sixty. When he was sixty he found enlightenment. They say that he taught for forty years thereafter.
Once a student asked old Joshu: “You teach that we must empty our minds. I have nothing in my mind. Now what shall I do?”
“Throw it out!” said Joshu.
“But I have nothing. How can I throw it out?”
“If you can’t throw it out, carry it out! Drive it out! Empty it out! But don’t stand there in front of me with nothing in your mind!”