Zen & Satori: Part II

Japanese Acupuncture Newsletter, Phoenix, Arizona

October, 2013

Zen & Satori:  Part II (if you have not read the first part, please do read)

空手把鋤頭                        歩行騎水牛

人従橋上過                        橋流水不流

                                                            傅大士 (Fu Da Shi)

Not carrying anything in hand, yet carrying a shovel (plough).

Walking, yet, riding an ox.

As a person passes over a bridge,

The bridge is washed away, yet the water is not running.

Most of you think that this is a crazy poem.  Therefore, first, I need to define what Zen is not.  Zen is not metaphysic.  Zen is not a religion, nor a philosophy.  Zen stands on the sharpest edge of a samurai sword, asking you to realize what is not.  When you see a pencil and you confirm it as a pencil, then, Zen is no longer there.

So, what is this crazy poem about?  This poem is perhaps the most revealing poem on Zen of all times.  It could only be written by a person who has “realized” which Zen calls, “satori” or the Realization.  To cut short, this poem is all about the true freedom.  Master Fu is absolutely free in the Realization, standing alone in his total clarity.  Remind you that many of us have it, and yet not carrying it.  You may call it conviction or faith (Zen does not seek these and in a different realm).  You cannot touch and carry these, yet you are carrying them, each of us, every day.  So what Master Fu carrying, yet not carrying?   A plough of the Absolute Affirmation that destroys the duality.  It is a very formidable weapon.  What kind of state is he in when he is carrying?  “Walking” here implies the Way, the Dao (aka:  Tao).  Physically, riding an ox is easier and comfortable especially for a long journey.  What he implies by riding an ox is that he is comfortable; meaning he is at peace.  With a plough of the Absolute Affirmation, he has woken and is experiencing the eternal peace (常楽). 

A person on the bridge is none other than himself.  The bridge is the dualism.  He was on it, but he broke it with the plough.  What did he attain?  Not even a drop of water remains in his clarity.  The Absolute Clarity (Freedom) which is the Realization.  He is no longer in our realm of:  1 +1 = 2, or A is not B.  He has understood that A is not A, therefore, it is A and went beyond (all encompassing).  Nothing binds him, for he is to none (我浄).  Do you still call a pencil a pencil*?  

Let me (my humble being) ask you a question.  When you see an ink drawing scroll (a calligraphy) by a Zen master of a circle, what do you see?  And when I ask you what this is, how do you answer?  Satori is at between the “whiteness” of the paper and the “emptiness” of it (白と空の間).  For English speaking people, satori is at between the “The” and the “a”:  The Circle is not a circle (円は円でない).  Again, for Zen, representation does not mean anything.  Discerning what is illusional and real is lifetime endeavor.  But once broken, you see no water left in its clarity.

Let me expand my question further.  When a Zen master points at a pencil and asks:  What is this?  How do you answer if you were mute?  Another dilemma?  I bet you can figure out yourself.  If not, “30 hits by a Zen master’s staff…”:  namaste.

Epilogue:  Some people think that I am a Buddhist or a Zen-ist.  Or, at worse, preaching something.  I am neither and don’t belong to any religion, temple, or church.  If, … I am forced to say, …then, I am a do-er. 

Namaste

*:  For example, the color brown does not exist in the light spectrum.  It is always within the yellow, but we see as brown.  And what of other optical illusions?  We simply cannot trust the brain, especially for vision.  Nuclear physicist always questioning what is real and not real.

© 2013 Dr. Y. Frank Aoi (NM State)/Japanese Acupuncture, LLC

Zen & Satori

Japanese Acupuncture Newsletter, Phoenix, Arizona

October, 2013

空手把鋤頭                        歩行騎水牛

人従橋上過                        橋流水不流

                                                            傅大士 (Fu Da Shi)

Not carrying anything in hand, yet carrying a shovel (plough).

Walking, yet, riding an ox.

As a person passes over a bridge,

The bridge is washed away, yet the water is not running.

This poem comes close to one of the most famous Koan questions:  What is the sound of one hand clapping?

Thought On Zen:  What Is This?  Part I

When a Zen master asks “What is this?", say, he is pointing at a pencil, how would you answer?  Knowing that you want to say something profound in front of a master and simply saying it is a pencil is not, and knowing Zen denies affirmation and negation and words all together, how do you answer this simple question?  If you say it is a pencil, he will slap you.  If you negate, he will still slap you; asking you to wake up.  Knowing the dilemma, how do you dissolve it and be able to give a Right answer?  The answer lies in the master’s deepest compassion, and knowing why he asks you of this.  Shall I rewrite this question to:  What is This?

When I was young, occasionally, I dreamt about coming to a huge wall after a walk.  The wall extended to infinity, and it was so tall, jumping over it was impossible.  I wanted to see the other side but for a few years, I could not.  But one day I became bit creative.  I imaged the wall would be soft and permeable, so that I could push my body into the wall and reach the other side.  Ever since, the dream has never come back.  My problem was that I had a concept that a wall was hard.  It was preventing me to see the real reality:  that a wall is only hard compared to others (In spiritual realm/reality, it does not exit:  perhaps, I can explain on some other days.).  A child could have solved the dilemma instantly with his innocence.  He would say to me:  “How about a wall was made of candies and cakes, so that you could eat them and made a hole?”  Marvelous.  This is Zen at its best.  We need to drop all concepts and constricts that we have been taught, and start seeing things from a child’s pure innocent point of view.  When we do, we are one step closer to a Zen master’s question.  So how do you answer?  Let me phrase the question this way:  What are you?

“What is this?”  “What is This?”  “What are you?”  If you see a pencil as a pencil, then you need to ask what “Is” a pencil?  Pencil is made out of wood and carbon matters.  But, does the word “pencil” really describe the true nature of its compositions?  No.  A word “pencil” is just a word.  We made it up to expedite smoother and easier communication.  By answering with “yes” or “no,” you prove to the master that you are stuck in the dualistic conceptual thinking mind:  that a pencil must be “this.”  Just like I thought of a wall as always hard.  The master is asking you to drop all preconditioned concepts and see the real for the first time.  When he asks “what is this?”, what he really asking is:  “What are you?”  “Who- and what-you-are,” may be just concepts, not really the true self?  Are you awake enough (or aware enough) to know that you are free of concepts?  An Indian guru may command to cut your head off and ask the same question.  Without a head (or a symbol), what are you really? 

When a Zen master asks you “What is This?”  He is asking you to know “what-you-are” at “This” moment, here and now.  What are you?  Who are you?  What is your true nature?  The dualistic mind can only be broken by the Absolute Affirmation* that we live only here and now, “This” moment.  There is no other time.  (*The Absolute Affirmation is not the dualism:  for it embraces  yes and no and goes beyond.  Perhaps, this, too, I need to explain later.)  How much are you truly aware at “This” moment?

“What is this/This?”  Without any concept of what a pencil ought to be or your self should be, what a Zen master asks is: what are you?  Answer to the question differs from person to person, day to day, and time to time.  But the answer must be spontaneous without any thinking (remember, if you think, he will slap you, and he knows that you have not dropped all concepts:  re-read the above poem and understand.  So, how do you answer?  Remember, your answer must be spontaneous:  there is no room for thinking.  One way to answer could be what you are impressed or attracted today before seeing the master.  If your heart is moved by red roses, an answer could be “red.”  When you see an interesting cloud pattern, it could be “clouds.”  By answering this way, a Zen master acknowledges that you are indeed living in here and now:  no past and future issues such as worries, disappointments, angers, etc. (free from dualism)  You are free from all sufferings because you are paying attention to and living in here and now “every instant.”

When you realize This Moment, then the mirror of the master’s compassion reflects upon your own mirror and becomes one.  Only then, you understand the master’s deepest and ardent compassion.

How do you keep up with this?  One Zen master said:  “Sitting along, on the top of the tallest and the biggest mountain, is this not enough?” (独坐大雄峰／百丈禅師).  Only thing you need to do is to reflect your own mirror to his, at the top of the mountain, unmovable, and you know how to answer:  what is this?

Namaste

© 2013 Dr. Y. Frank Aoi (NM State)/Japanese Acupuncture, LLC