A Koan: Nothing Exists

The following is a story I like. Does anyone share my appreciation?

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Yamaoka Tesshu, as a young student of Zen, visited one master after another. He called upon Dokuon of Shokoku.

Desiring to show his attainment, he said: "The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings, after all, do not exist. The true nature of phenomena is emptiness. There is no realization, no delusion, no sage, no mediocrity. There is no giving and nothing to be received."

Dokuon, who was smoking quietly, said nothing. Suddenly he whacked Yamaoka with his bamboo pipe. This made the youth quite angry.

"If nothing exists," inquired Dokuon, "where did this anger come from?"

Originally posted by LemonJello
The following is a story I like. Does anyone share my appreciation?

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Yamaoka Tesshu, as a young student of Zen, visited one master after another. He called upon Dokuon of Shokoku.

Desiring to show his attainment, he said: "The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings, after all, do ...[text shortened]... h quite angry.

"If nothing exists," inquired Dokuon, "where did this anger come from?"

Iratus ergo sum.

Originally posted by LemonJello
The following is a story I like. Does anyone share my appreciation?

It's -

Originally posted by LemonJello
The following is a story I like. Does anyone share my appreciation?

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Yamaoka Tesshu, as a young student of Zen, visited one master after another. He called upon Dokuon of Shokoku.

Desiring to show his attainment, he said: "The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings, after all, do ...[text shortened]... h quite angry.

"If nothing exists," inquired Dokuon, "where did this anger come from?"

The truly religious person,
as opposed to the just-believer
in this or that
creed
concerning form or emptiness,
emptiness or form,
listens to the cowbird chuckle
—hears only the sound
reverberate in his bones—

tastes the sunlight on his skin,
dancing, stubs his toe—“Damn!”—

and when he makes up words,
such as these,
holds them of no more
or less account
than the cowbird’s chuckle,
the throb in a broken toe.

Form, emptiness,
emptiness, form—
wind slapping the bamboo chimes.

Yaaa!
Clapping hands and crack-toed,
still I dance—and tumble and dance—

That is my liturgy
of emptiness and form.

(And words such as these
are no more than
thoroughly dispensable rubrics:
the real liturgy
makes up itself
as it goes along...)

Anyone who wishes,
and is willing to hold hands
to help each other stay afoot,
fractured as we may be,
is welcome to the congregation.

No further “attainment” is required.

____________________________________

Thanks, LJ. I needed that. Been worrying that damned moon too much again...

Originally posted by vistesd
The truly religious person,
as opposed to the just-believer
in this or that
creed
concerning form or emptiness,
emptiness or form,
listens to the cowbird chuckle
—hears only the sound
reverberate in his bones—

tastes the sunlight on his skin,
dancing, stubs his toe—“Damn!”—

and when he makes up words,
such as these,
holds them of no more
o ...[text shortened]... fractured as we may be,
is welcome to the congregation.

No further “attainment” is required.

Nice!

Originally posted by vistesd
The truly religious person,
as opposed to the just-believer
in this or that
creed
concerning form or emptiness,
emptiness or form,
listens to the cowbird chuckle
—hears only the sound
reverberate in his bones—

tastes the sunlight on his skin,
dancing, stubs his toe—“Damn!”—

and when he makes up words,
such as these,
holds them of no more
o ...[text shortened]... _______________

Thanks, LJ. I needed that. Been worrying that damned moon too much again...

Hark ! that's cosmic voice ....