/zen/ -

The background to my interpretation, is that Joshu cannot possibly be accredited as recieving the question. Somebody made up that Joshu was the one answering, and it is therefore likely that the whole exchange is made up.

However, this ties into how little of Joshu's teachings we know. He lived during a time when the government purged buddhism. The "mu" is likely to mean that his answer would be missing, as the record would have been purged.

There are several versions of this koan. In some versions Joshu answers yes, and in others he answers no. This goes to show that there are no reliable records of his answer, although he was never asked the question to begin with.

The essence of the koan is not just about missing records, but how missing answers can actually be of benefit to the practitioner, who now has to step in for Jushu to recieve the question himself, and arrive at his own answer.

Obaku went up to Hyakujo and slapped the teacher's face.

Hyakujo, clapped his hands and laughed: "I thought Buddha was a wise man, but here is another one wise man!"

(To clarify, the "persian with a red beard" means Buddha, his red beard being an icon of wisdom.)

This koan is actually two koans.

The first koan is the one that Hyakujo is telling to his students. This is a separate koan, teaching that one isn't above cause and effect, just because one is enlightened. This is true whether one believes in reincarnation or not: You cannot out-wise your electric bills.

However, Obaku sees through Hyakujo's fabricated fable. He recognizes that there are so many chains of causes and effects, that anything that you do, including ignoring them, is bound to adhere to one of them. This means that thinking oneself to be above cause and effect, could just as well be true and wise, and furthermore, awakened beings are evidently freeing themselves from these chains. There is no way that an answer can be so wrong that it would cause all those reincarnations. Hyakujo is telling this story because he doesn't see beyond the wisdom of a single cause and effect chain.

Similarly, Hyakujo doesn't see beyond the cause of Obaku questioning the wisdom of his story, and the effect of Obaku being slapped for his foolishness. Obaku then slaps him, teaching him that Obaku operates according to another cause and effect, where Hyakujo is the fool.

Hyakujo is wise enough to recognize that Obaku enlightened him like a true teacher, beyond the karmic law that Buddha has taught him.

Whatever he was asked, Master Gutei simply stuck up one finger.

You can find anything to be enlightening. The self-taught buddhas simply have to look, while students look to their teachers to point out where wisdom can be found. As a teacher, Gutei was in the position that he could do anything he pleased, as long as he pointed out the enlightenment inherent in it. Often the lazy Gutei settled for simply not doing anything, and pointing out the wisdom in leaving things as they are. …but in the boys case, Gutei taught the enlightenment of being wronged by a teacher, his rare jewel of a lesson proved as valuable as ones own finger.

Waku'an (looking at Bodhidharma's picture) complained: "Why has that Barbarian no beard?"

This koan is simply about preconceptions and prejudices.

Some people expect certain things (like buddhas) to come in a certain package. Sometimes that package has a beard. Sometimes that package shaves. Often the package is unrelated to the contents, and often people still have these fever dreams where they have certain myth-induced expectations for things, that cloud their perceptions and acceptance.

Kyogen said, "Zen is like a monk hanging by his teeth in a tree over a precipice."

Zen can be equalled to many things, but Kyogen chose this particular comparison because he wanted his students to be silent: "You'll die if you explain things with answers." Kyogens idea has turned zen into occultism over the centuries, where explanations were seen as disgraceful. Would the monk not hang from the tree by his teeth, he could have given any number of answers (as a later case demonstrates), or explain that the question doesn't have a satisfying answer: First of all, there is no single cause responsible for the effect of Buddha coming to China. Second of all, buddhas do things (like travelling to China) on meaningless whims which are irrelevant to their awakening. Third of all, would there have been a responsible cause, then we still wouldn't know about it. …so the question is ignorant, meaningless and futile. However, this still doesn't mean that to can't be met with an answer or an explanation, like the explanation I've given just now.

Some ascetic zen temple monks sit in strict zazen sometimes for a whole week straight, without discussing the secrets of enlightenment with anybody but their appointed master. They live on gruel, begging, and sleep only for a few hours at night, while only their master becomes fat from their wisdom. I blame Kyogen for their predicament.

Buddha twirled a flower between his fingers. Maha Kashapa smiled.

This koan has been the basis for the zen dharma lineage, where "the dharma" has been passed on through the generations, from master to student, via dharma transmissions. These "dharma ancestors" are held to be more awakened than any other, as if the dharma was a unique crown that only one person could inherit and wear at a time. Immediately upon this precious lineage arriving in the west, the westerners wiped their asses with it, by sexually and economically exploiting their students for the sake of their own selfish desires, and they just made this already growing lack of wisdom in these dharma transmissions apparent.

Buddha himself wasn't given his dharma through a dharma transmission, so what does this transmission contain? It's as simple as a flag being given to a flag-bearer. Being given a flag, and carrying it high, doesn't make a flag-bearer a patriot. Similarly, carrying the dharma lineage doesn't make a dharma ancestor wiser. He's just appointed to uphold the reputation of buddhism by being its outward face and a shining example of the dharma. In the case of Maha Kashapa, him seeing the sunny (delightful) side of the dharma, made him the best canidate to carry the dharma flag. In western cultures, money and shining cars go an equally long way.

Joshu said: "Go and wash your bowl."

It is basic daily things that are the most important in life.

Without a clean bowl, we can't eat. If we don't eat, we starve. If we starve, we can't even think straight, up until we die.

Buddha couldn't escape it. Superheroes can't escape it. Whatever they do or did, hinge on them cleaning their bowls.

Preferably you clean your bowl as soon as possible, before the food sticks to it and molds. In that way you also don't get caught surprised when you need your bowl again, only to find that you forgot to clean it.

Then, when all your bowls are clean, should you deal with lesser matters, such as contemplating enlightenment.

That's the way to a healthy life.

…and if you find that all that you have time for, is cleaning your bowls and fixing the fence and paying your bills, then you are still spending your time better, than contemplating enlightenment in all its glory. …because these basic things that we often think are such bothers, are the foundation for all great things.

Gettan asked a monk, "If Keichu (the ancient mythological wheel maker) made a wagon with one hundred spokes, and if we took off the wheels and removed the hub uniting the spokes, what would then become apparent?".

Keichu is China's first wheelmaker.

Somewhere between the 13th and 15th century, this koan became mistranslated (by misinterpreting just a single character) into saying that Keichu made 100 carts, and this mistranslation persisted until 2006, making the koan plain rubbish. (Source: http://blog.dorakuan.de/too-many-spokes.html )

It seems unclear whether the koan means one wheel, with 100 spokes, or two wheels, with 50 spokes each. That isn't as important, but it becomes more clear if we're just talking about one wheel (although a one-wheeled wagon makes little sense).

(Amusingly, archeologists have since discovered that early chinese wagon wheels of course didn't have any spokes at all - they were simple disks.)

The reason it becomes more clear with just one wheel, is that Gettan is using symbolism. Eastern religion depicts their codes of conduct as wheels, where each spoke is a rule of conduct. The wheel of Buddhism was 8 spokes. The wheel of Taoism has 30 spokes.

This means that we're actually talking about a code of conduct with 100 rules in it, depicted as an actual wheel.

Now if you remove the hub and the wheel on a wheel, you will get just the spokes. The cart would collapse, and the spokes would fall all over the place.

Similarly, if you remove the central purpose of a code of conduct, you will get just the conducts themselves.

This allegory can be interpreted in at least two ways, but considering how Mumonkan describes how this hubless wheel is turning, I am deducing that what Gettan is describing with this hubless code of conduct, is the zen code of conduct. While it is without a central uniting purpose, each conduct still has its own individual purpose, and while just the spokes wouldn't be able to support a literal wagon, zen will still be able to support a practioner. However, notice how while a normal wheel only has one common direction, the spokes go in all directions, with their own destinations.

A monk asked Seijo: "Daitsu Chisho Buddha did zazen (meditated) for ten kalpas in a Meditation Hall, could not realize the highest truth, and so could not become fully emancipated. Why was this?"

Seijo said: "Your question is a very appropriate one!"

The monk asked again: "Why did he not attain Buddhahood by doing zazen in the Meditation Hall?"

Seijo replied: "Because he did not."

So who is this Daitsu Chisho Buddha? Is it probably referring to Daitsu-chisho Butsu (Mahabhijnjnana-bhibu Buddha) - an anchient Tathagata/Nyorai (Buddha) who taught the Hokke Sutra. Evidently he became enlightened some time after the mentioned period in the meditation hall.

Ten kalpas would literally mean 43.2 billion years, which would mean ten lifetimes of the universe (according to belief). However, it is also used to figuratively express a very long time: "Daitsu-chisho Butsu meditated forever in a meditation hall, …"

The koan explains that you can meditate forever without attaining buddhahood, because attaining buddhahood requires actually realizing the highest truth.

Zazen is in itself nothing but a form of sitting, its purpose being to steady you while you contemplate higher truths. Similarly a suttra is in itself just a phrase that you repeat, its purpose being a wisdom to contemplate that will aid you in your realizations. If you sit in zazen without putting your contemplation into it, you're just sitting around. Followers of Soto zen should take note.

A monk named Seizai said to Sozan, "I am alone and poor. I beg my teacher to bestow upon me the alms of salvation."

Sozan said, "Mr. Seizai!"

"Yes, Sir?" replied Seizai.

Sozan said, "Someone has drunk three bowls of the wine of Haku of Seigen, but says that he has not yet even moistened his lips."

"Acarya" literally means "teacher", but is here a form of respect, so I translated it as "Mr.".

Seizai is acting helpless, fishing for Sozan to solve his portrayed mental suffering with being alone and poor through telling him what benefits such things may have. However, Seizai makes a mistake: He doesn't ask Sozan for money or company. (Sozan probably didn't even have any money to give, since Sozan was probably a monk as well.) Instead Seizai reveals that he is already aware that he only needs enlightenment to be saved, and that he therefor isn't bothered by being alone and poor.

This koan reveals a lot of angles on the topic of how enlightenment can satisfy just as well as (or better than) money, wine and company. Classic zen monks beg for a living, and toil in their own rice fields for their daily food, yet still they choose this life, because they value enlightenment more.

Joshu went to a hermit's and asked: "What's up? What's up?"

The hermit lifted up his fist.

Joshu said "The water is too shallow to anchor here.", and went away.

Joshu visited the hermit once again a few days later and said: "What's up? What's up?"

The hermit raised his fist again.

Then Joshu said "Well given, well taken, well killed, well saved."

and he bowed to the hermit.

"What's up? What's up?" menas literally "Have you any Zen?".

Provided that this koan hasn't been mistranslated, it seems to deal with interpretation.

Joshu gives the hermit such a broad question that literally anything would answer it.

We don't know why the hermit wishes to respond by lifting a fist. Maybe he does to in angry rejection, maybe he does so to in acceptance to calmly show zen.

Joshu declares that he won't interpret the hermits gesture as anything, and goes away.

Later Joshu comes back. If the hermit now responds to the same question in another manner, then he may draw conclusions whether or not that gesture will be angry or calm too.

However, the hermit responds in the exact same way. Does the hermit just have a narrow repertoire of responses, or is he doing this purpose, just to mess with Joshu's ability to interpret his intention? We don't know.

Joshu now has to draw the conclusion that he can't draw a conclusion about the hermits intention, which he states by responding to all the intention alternatives.

Joshu then bows to the hermit, because whether or not the hermit meant to teach him this, the lesson does in both cases make the hermit deserving of a bow.

This koan is about how things have more meanings than just one. Often they can have opposing meanings. When you become enlightened enough that you see through dualistic concepts such as good or evil actions, a lot of things lose their inherent meaning, leaving you is a fuzzy world where any hasty interpretation can be right or wrong. In the case of this koan, Joshu is cornered by his own wisdom.

Every day Zuigan used to call out to himself "Master!"

and then he answered himself "Yes, Sir!"

and he added "Awake, Awake!"

and then answered "Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"From now onwards, do not be deceived by others!"

"No, Sir! I will not, Sir!".

When I was a kid, I sometimes played chess against myself. It was just a matter of alternating between the black and white sides to me, but other people found it weird. Why would I play if I had no one to beat? Why not simply cheat in order to win?

Zuigan is doing the same thing in this koan: He's being his own master. It may look like he has a multiple personality disorder, but all he's doing is to switch the board around. It becomes even more interesting after one becomes able to choose ones opinions freely, because then it's even possible to get into a heated argument with yourself.

The true self doesn't have to rely on just one point of view, or one set of opinions. When you become awakened, you will leave points of views and opinions completely behind, and after that, you will be able to choose which ones to wear more freely.

Tokusan delivered an entirely different sermon to the monks.

Ganto went forward in the Hall, clapped his hands, laughed and said: "What a happy thing! The old man has got hold of the ultimate truth of Zen. From now on, no one in heaven and on earth can surpass him."

Because so much substance has been deprived of this koan, probably from its conception, it is easily misunderstood. If you don't realize that Tokusan was indeed wrong about zen, then this koan seems to question the practice of passing judgement. Ganto disapproved of Tokusan changing his mind when he turned around with his bowl, but approved of Tokusan changing his mind on what sermon to deliver, this would appear to be a contradiction, and often with koans these contradictions are solved by non-dual thinking and relativism.

Not so in this case. Once you realize that Tokusan did not live in the present when he expected dinner in advance, and that Ganto was right all along, this koan instead becomes a teaching about the four forms of teaching:

Ganto told off Tokusan, because Tokusan didn't live in the present.

Ganto revealed the truth to Tokusan, because Tokusan didn't live in the present.

Tokusan corrected himself, because Tokusan didn't live in the present.

Ganto approved of Tokusan, because Tokusan now lived in the present.

There are a lot of truths, but when it comes to zen, what you are doing right now, is the highest truth. This truth itself, then becomes the very spine of teaching.

I'm not sure if Mumon himself gets this koan.

Nansen seized the cat and said, "If any of you can say a word of Zen, you can spare the cat. Otherwise I will kill it."

No one could answer, so Nansen cut the cat in two.

Possessions beyond necessity are traditionally not allowed in monasteries because it goes against buddhistic non-attachment, yet here we see two monks arguing over a cat. Nansen found these monks so disgracefully far from enlightenment, that he decided to sacrifice the cat as a means of educating them. They both failed the simplest of challenges, as doing ANYthing, would have saved the cat. Them saving the cat, would have saved the cat. Them skipping rope, would have saved the cat. Instead they were so far removed from zen, that they just stood there bewildered and clueless.

Nansen killed the cat in front of them for three reasons: To show them that they can not both get what they want at the same time, to get rid of the object that had led them astray, and to make them remember the value of "a word of zen".

Joshu, upon hearing this, took off a sandal and put it on his head. This isn't just a traditional gesture of mourning, over both the monks and the cat, but it also demonstrates a word of zen: Not talking, and actually doing something.

bump

>>74

Thread author here. Sorry if you are patiently waiting for this thread to resume.

It might, and it might not.

I don't always finish what I start, and I made no promises. (I believe I mentioned in another thread that I would write about these koans "if I had the time".)

>>38

Of course a dog has buddha-nature, all beings do.