Now sprouts Case 89, "Tozan's No Grass."
This is another Koan about the tangled world of separate things, multiplicity and complexity, represented by endless miles of grass ...
... and the state of mind where all that drops away.
Sometimes folks believe that the world of complexity and division is merely a bad thing, and that the purpose of our Zen practice is just to realize once and for all the realm where all that division drops away, then stay there. Maybe we should turn within ourselves, our own mind, to realize that realm, not letting our senses reach outward. Master Dogen and other Zen folks had the understanding, however, that this world of complexity and frictions ... me and not me, me and you, this and that, friend and enemy, beauty and ugliness, sickness and health, life and death ... is, to the wise eye, just the same as the realm beyond all that chaos and confusion, whether we stay or go, look inside or out, so don't be afraid to wander through this life and world.
We can travel in the tangled world, yet be untangled.
The tangled grass also represents our mental tangles that arises in this complex me/not me world: Our fears, desires for what we need or want, our mental categories and divisions into friend vs. enemy, the things we love and the things we detest, what we run toward or run from, etc. An aspect of our practice is to leap beyond all that, to a realm without oppositions, nothing lacking, no other place to be. But, said the Zen masters, if we are wise and careful, we can still find such even while alive in this world of sometime troubles, lack and moving. Shishin Wick, in his commentary, emphasizes the clear mind where the tangled grasses don't arise, but I remind you that it is all right here ... even in this weedy and overgrown world ... and don't think of enlightenment as "the greener grass on the other side of the fence!"
The Main Case features monks ready to leave the monastery to travel at the end of their long summer retreat. If they stay or go, there is grass everywhere, yet there is also the place of no grass everywhere beyond staying or going, inside or out.
The Preface hints that if your mind gets tangled, then you get buried thousands of feet deep in the complex mess. Just the same, try not to move and not be caught by the world, and you are still caught. But just toss away all concern with caught or not caught, or even toss away mere ideas of trying to be both or neither, and you are free to roam to your heart's content.
In the Appreciatory Verse, when free whether inside or outside the gate, it is easy to place your feet even in a thicket. The line about the "in darkness, outside drawn blinds, it's hard to turn your body around" is not so clear, and the few commentaries I looked at seem scattered. I will interpret it as something like, "if you just turn off the lights so that the division vanishes, pull the blinds down over your eyes to close out the world, you cannot move" and are just stuck there. Instead, be like the old tree that is clear of all division in winter, but then is ready to burst forth and return to profuse life in the spring. (The "about to enter the burned out fields" at the end refers to a custom in old China, and even in the Japanese farming community where I live now, of burning some fields at the start of spring to clear the way for all the new growth and profuse richness of the coming season).
Question: In your Zen practice, are you finding the untangled place in all the tangles, just here whether you stay or go?
As Furtado Roshi teaches, in a world of needs, wants and all our endless desires ... with a mind measuring "good and better" and "having" of things we touch and encounter ... beyond what we "like" or "love" or do not at all ... as she turns around ... we stain our jeans yet all is pure ... we're right in it! This we believe even when we lose our place and life makes us so tired ... all our faults and hidden skeletons vanish ... and then even the sometime dishonesty and conflict we encounter in this world is somehow beautiful.
Gassho, J
STLah
This is another Koan about the tangled world of separate things, multiplicity and complexity, represented by endless miles of grass ...
... and the state of mind where all that drops away.
Sometimes folks believe that the world of complexity and division is merely a bad thing, and that the purpose of our Zen practice is just to realize once and for all the realm where all that division drops away, then stay there. Maybe we should turn within ourselves, our own mind, to realize that realm, not letting our senses reach outward. Master Dogen and other Zen folks had the understanding, however, that this world of complexity and frictions ... me and not me, me and you, this and that, friend and enemy, beauty and ugliness, sickness and health, life and death ... is, to the wise eye, just the same as the realm beyond all that chaos and confusion, whether we stay or go, look inside or out, so don't be afraid to wander through this life and world.
We can travel in the tangled world, yet be untangled.
The tangled grass also represents our mental tangles that arises in this complex me/not me world: Our fears, desires for what we need or want, our mental categories and divisions into friend vs. enemy, the things we love and the things we detest, what we run toward or run from, etc. An aspect of our practice is to leap beyond all that, to a realm without oppositions, nothing lacking, no other place to be. But, said the Zen masters, if we are wise and careful, we can still find such even while alive in this world of sometime troubles, lack and moving. Shishin Wick, in his commentary, emphasizes the clear mind where the tangled grasses don't arise, but I remind you that it is all right here ... even in this weedy and overgrown world ... and don't think of enlightenment as "the greener grass on the other side of the fence!"
The Main Case features monks ready to leave the monastery to travel at the end of their long summer retreat. If they stay or go, there is grass everywhere, yet there is also the place of no grass everywhere beyond staying or going, inside or out.
The Preface hints that if your mind gets tangled, then you get buried thousands of feet deep in the complex mess. Just the same, try not to move and not be caught by the world, and you are still caught. But just toss away all concern with caught or not caught, or even toss away mere ideas of trying to be both or neither, and you are free to roam to your heart's content.
In the Appreciatory Verse, when free whether inside or outside the gate, it is easy to place your feet even in a thicket. The line about the "in darkness, outside drawn blinds, it's hard to turn your body around" is not so clear, and the few commentaries I looked at seem scattered. I will interpret it as something like, "if you just turn off the lights so that the division vanishes, pull the blinds down over your eyes to close out the world, you cannot move" and are just stuck there. Instead, be like the old tree that is clear of all division in winter, but then is ready to burst forth and return to profuse life in the spring. (The "about to enter the burned out fields" at the end refers to a custom in old China, and even in the Japanese farming community where I live now, of burning some fields at the start of spring to clear the way for all the new growth and profuse richness of the coming season).
Question: In your Zen practice, are you finding the untangled place in all the tangles, just here whether you stay or go?
As Furtado Roshi teaches, in a world of needs, wants and all our endless desires ... with a mind measuring "good and better" and "having" of things we touch and encounter ... beyond what we "like" or "love" or do not at all ... as she turns around ... we stain our jeans yet all is pure ... we're right in it! This we believe even when we lose our place and life makes us so tired ... all our faults and hidden skeletons vanish ... and then even the sometime dishonesty and conflict we encounter in this world is somehow beautiful.
Gassho, J
STLah
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