Waking from sleep,
I can hear the dew in the trees.
I open my door
Overlooking the garden.
The winter moon
Clears the eastern cliffs;
Water murmurs
Through roots of bamboo.
The mountain stream’s
Beyond my hearing,
But a mountain bird cries once,
And then again.
Leaning in the doorway,
I follow night through to dawn.
What words can I summon
For such mystery and peace?
~ Liu Tzung-yuan (773-819)
Of all good works, zazen comes first,
for the merit of only one step into it
surpasses that of erecting a thousand temples.
Even a moment of sitting will enable you
to free yourself from life and death,
and your Buddha nature will appear of itself.
Then all you do, perceive, and think
becomes part of the miraculous Tathagata-suchness.
~ Meiho (1277–1350)
Mayoku arrived at Shokei’s place holding his staff. He walked three times around the meditation seat of Shokei and thumped his staff once.
Shokei said, “Right! Right!”
Mayoku afterward went to Nansen’s place. Again he walked three times around the meditation seat and thumped his staff once.
Nansen said, “Wrong! Wrong!”
Mayoku said, “Shokei said ‘Right.’ Why do you say ‘Wrong’?”
Nansen replied, “For Shokei it is right. For you it is wrong. What comes from the power of the wind in the end becomes broken and crumbled.”
from the Shōyōroku—the Book of Equanimity
The wise ones of old had subtle wisdom
And depth of understanding,
So profound that they could not be understood.
Because they could not be understood,
I can only describe how they appeared in the world:
Cautious, like crossing a wintry stream,
Attentive, like one ready for the unexpected
Gracious, as one who pays a visit;
Yielding, like ice beginning to melt,
Genuine, like a piece of uncarved wood,
Open-minded, like a valley,
And mixing freely, like murky water.
~ Lao-Tze
On the single road leading to this place
I saw a footprint in the moss.
The white clouds leaned on quiet banks,
The fragrant grasses closed your idle door.
I passed the rain-fed green of pines
And followed the hills to a mountain spring.
Streams and flowers spoke to me in meditation,
And I replied: and cannot think of what I said.
~ Liu Chang-ch’ing
When one contemplates
Sickness, old age, and death,
One sees that no one and nothing
Can escape them.
When compassion is born
In the heart,
One sees that there is no reason
To add to the evil and pain.
What is this true meditation?
It is to make everything:
coughing, swallowing, waving the arms,
motion, stillness, words, actions,
the evil and the good, prosperity and shame,
gain and loss, right and wrong, into one single koan.
~ Hakuin
The mountain stones were rough, the path narrow.
Bats flew in the twilight when I reached the temple.
I climbed to the hall and sat on the steps
Where the fresh rain had washed
The great palm leaves and sleek gardenias.
The monk said there were fine Buddhas
Painted on the old walls:
He took a lamp to show me some of them.
He spread the bed, dusted the mats,
And set out rice for me:
It was coarse but satisfied my hunger.
Late at night it was quiet,
And not an insect murmured
As the clear moon came over the mountains,
And entered my door.
I left at dawn, alone, and lost my way,
Up and down the twisting mountains in the mist
Where the red hills glittered in the jade green brooks.
I saw pines and oaks full ten spans around,
And my bare feet in swift water stepped over rocks
Where the water boiled, and the wind tore my clothes.
A person could make himself happy here.
Why should I bridle myself in crowded towns?
O, my own few disciples:
What if I grew old here and never returned?
~ Han Yu