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These koans, or
parables, were translated into English from a book called the Shaseki-shu
(Collection of Stone and Sand), written late in the thirteenth century
by the Japanese Zen teacher Muju (the "non-dweller"), and from anecdotes
of Zen monks taken from various books published in Japan around
the turn of the 20th century.
41. Joshu's
Zen
Joshu began the study of Zen when he was sixty years old and
continued until he was eighty, when he realized Zen.
He taught from the age of eighty until he was one hundred and
twenty.
A student once asked him: "If I haven't anything in my mind,
what shall I do?"
Joshu replied: "Throw it out."
"But if I haven't anything, how can I throw it out?" continued
the questioner.
"Well," said Joshu, "then carry it out."
42. The Dead Man's Answer
When Mamiya, who later became a well-known preacher, went to
a teacher for personal guidance, he was asked to explain the
sound of one hand.
Mamiya concentrated upon what the sound of one hand might be.
"You are not working hard enough," his teacher told him. "You
are too attached to food, wealth, things, and that sound. It
would be better if you died. That would solve the problem."
The next time Mamiya appeared before his teacher he was again
asked what he had to show regarding the sound of one hand. Mamiya
at once fell over as if he were dead.
"You are dead all right," observed the teacher, "But how about
that sound?"
"I haven't solved that yet," replied Mamiya, looking up.
"Dead men do not speak," said the teacher. "Get out!"
43. Zen in a Beggar's Life
Tosui was a well-known Zen teacher of his time. He had lived
in several temples and taught in various provinces.
The last temple he visited accumulated so many adherents that
Tosui told them he was going to quit the lecture business entirely.
He advised them to disperse and to go wherever they desired.
After that no one could find any trace of him.
Three years later one of his disciples discovered him living
with some beggars under a bridge in Kyoto. He at one implored
Tosui to teach him.
"If you can do as I do for even a couple of days, I might,"
Tosui replied.
So the former disciple dressed as a beggar and spent a day with
Tosui. The following day one of the beggars died. Tosui and
his pupil carried the body off at midnight and buried it on
a mountainside. After that they returned to their shelter under
the bridge.
Tosui slept soundly the remainder of the night, but the disciple
could not sleep. When morning came Tosui said: "We do not have
to beg food today. Our dead friend has left some over there."
But the disciple was unable to eat a single bite of it.
"I have said you could not do as I," concluded Tosui. "Get out
of here and do not bother me again."
44. The Thief Who Became a Disciple
One evening as Shichiri Kojun was reciting sutras a thief with
a sharp sword entered, demanding wither his money or his life.
Shichiri told him: "Do not disturb me. You can find the money
in that drawer." Then he resumed his recitation.
A little while afterwards he stopped and called: "Don't take
it all. I need some to pay taxes with tomorrow."
The intruder gathered up most of the money and started to leave.
"Thank a person when you receive a gift," Shichiri added. The
man thanked him and made off.
A few days afterwards the fellow was caught and confessed, among
others, the offense against Shichiri. When Shichiri was called
as a witness he said: "This man is no thief, at least as far
as I am concerned. I gave him the money and he thanked me for
it."
After he had finished his prison term, the man went to Shichiri
and became his disciple.
45. Right & Wrong
When Bankei held his seclusion-weeks of meditation, pupils from
many parts of Japan came to attend. During one of these gatherings
a pupil was caught stealing. The matter was reported to Bankei
with the request that the culprit be expelled. Bankei ignored
the case.
Later the pupil was caught in a similar act, and again bankei
disregarded the matter. this angered the other pupils, who drew
up a petition asking for the dismissal of the thief, stating
that otherwise they would leave in a body.
When bankei had read the petition he called everyone before
him. "You are wise brothers," he told them. "You know what is
right and what is not right. You may somewhere else to study
if you wish, but this poor brother does not even know right
from wrong. Who will teach him if I do not? I am going to keep
him here even if all the rest of you leave."
A torrent of tears cleansed the face of the brother who had
stolen. All desire to steal had vanished.
46. How Grass & Trees Become Enlightened
During the Kamakura period, Shinkan studied Tendai six years
and then studied Zen seven years; then he went to China and
contemplated Zen for thirteen years more.
When he returned to Japan many desired to interview him and
asked onscure questions. But when Shinkan received visitors,
which was infrequently, he seldom answered their questions.
One day a fifty-year-old student of enlightenment said to Shinkan:
"I have studied the Tendai school of thought since I was a little
boy, but one thing in it I cannot understand. Tendai claims
that even the grass and trees will become enlightened. To me
this eems very strange."
"Of what use is it to discuss how grass and trees become enlightened?"
asked Shinkan. "The question is how you yourself can become
so. Did you ever consider that?"
"I never thought of it in that way," marveled the old man.
"Then go home and think it over," finished Shinkan.
47. The Stingy Artist
Gessen was an artist monk. Before he would start a drawing or
painting he always insisted upon being paid in advance, and
his fees were high. He was known as the "Stingy Artist."
A geisha once gave him a commission for a painting. "How much
can you pay?" inquired Gessen.
"Whatever you charge," replied the girl, "but I want you to
do the work in front of me."
So on a certain day Gessen was called by the geisha. She was
holding a feast for her patron.
Gessen with fine brush work did the painting. When it was completed
he asked the highest sum of his time.
He received his pay. Then the geisha turned to her patron, saying:
"All this artist wants is money. His paintings are fine but
his mind is dirty; money has caused it to become muddy. Drawn
by such a filthy mind, his work is not fit to exhibit. It is
just about good enough for one of my petticoats."
Removing her skirt, she then asked Gessen to do another picture
on the back of her petticoat.
"How much will you pay?" asked Gessen.
"Oh, any amount," answered the girl.
Gessen named a fancy price, painted the picture in the manner
requested, and went away.
It was learned later that Gessen had these reasons for desiring
money:
A ravaging famine often visited his province. The rich would
not help the poor, so Gessen had a secret warehouse, unknown
to anyone, which he kept filled with grain, prepared for those
emergencies.
From his village to the National Shrine the road was in very
poor condition and many travellers suffered while traversing
it. He desired to build a better road.
His teacher had passed away without realizing his wish to build
a temple, and Gessen wished to complete this temple for him.
After Gessen had accomplished his three wishes he threw away
his brushes and artist's materials and, retiring to the mountains,
never painted again.
48. Accurate Proportion
Sen no Rikyu, a tea-master, wished to hang a flower basket on
a column. he asked a carpenter to help him, directing the man
to place it a little higher or lower, to the right or left,
until he had found exactly the right spot. "That's the place,"
said Sen no Rikyu finally.
The carpenter, to test the master, marked the spot and then
pretended he had forgotten. Was this the place? "Was this the
place, perhaps?" the carpenter kept asking, pointing to various
places on the column.
But so accurate was the tea-master's sense of proportion that
it was not until the carpenter reached the identical spot again
that its location was approved.
49. Black-Nosed Buddha
A nun who was searching for enlightenment made a statue of Buddha
and covered it with gold leaf. Wherever she went she carried
this golden Buddha with her.
Years passed and, still carrying her Buddha, the nun came to
live in a small temple in a country where there were many Buddhas,
each one with its own particular shrine.
The nun wished to burn incense before her golden Buddha. Not
liking the idea of the perfume straying to the others, she devised
a funnel through which the smoke would ascend only to her statue.
This blackened the nose of the golden Buddha, making it especially
ugly.
50. Ryonen's Clear Realization
The Buddhist nun known as Ryonen was born in 1797. She was a
granddaughter of the famous Japanese warrior Shingen. Her poetical
genius and alluring beauty were such that at seventeen she was
serving the empress as one of the ladies of the court. Even
at such a youthful age fame awaited her.
The beloved empress died suddenly and Ryonen's hopeful dreams
vanished. She became acutely aware of the impermanency of life
in this world. It was then that she desired to study Zen.
Her relatives disagreed, however, and practically forced her
into marriage. With a promise that she might become a nun after
she had borne three children, Ryonen assented. Before she was
twenty-five she had accomplished this condition. Then her husband
and relatives could no longer dissuade her from her desire.
She shaved her head, took the name of Ryonen, which means to
realize clearly, and started on her pilgrimage.
She came to the city of Edo and asked Tetsugyu to accept her
as a disciple. At one glance the master rejected her because
she was too beautiful.
Ryonen then went to another master, Hakuo. Hakuo refused her
for the same reason, saying that her beauty would only make
trouble.
Ryonen obtained a hot iron and placed it against her face. In
a few moments her beauty had vanished forever.
Hakuo then accepted her as a disciple.
Commemorating this occasion, Ryonen wrote a poem on the back
of a little mirror:
In the service of my Empress I burned incense to
perfume my exquisite clothes
Now as a homeless mendicant I burn my face to
enter a Zen temple.
When Ryonen was about to pass from this world, she wrote another
poem:
Sixty-six times have these eyes beheld the changing
scene of autumn
I have said enough about moonlight,
Ask no more.
Only listen to the voice of pines and cedars when no
wind stirs.
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