To meditate, a man has to fix his thought on something;

for instance, on the oneness of God, or his infinite love, or on

the impermanence of things. But this is the very thing Zen
desires to avoid. If there is anything Zen strongly emphasizes
it is the attainment of freedom ; that is, freedom from all unnatural encumbrances. Meditation is
something artificially put
on ; it does not belong to the native activity of the mind. Upon
what do the fowl of the air meditate?

Hence there is no object in Zen upon which to fix the thought. Zen is a wafting cloud in the sky. No
screw fastens it, no string holds it; it moves as it lists. No amount of meditation will keep zen in one
place. Meditation is not Zen.

Zen says "After all things are reduced to oneness,where would that One be reduced?" Zen wants to
have one's mind free and unobstructed ; even the idea of oneness or allness is a stumbling-block
and a strangling snare which threatens the
original freedom of the spirit.
The feeling is all in all, as Faust declares; all our theorization fails to touch reality. But "the feeling"
here must be understood in its deepest sense or in its purest form.
Zen defies all conceptmaking. That is why Zen is difficult to grasp.
When we speak of meditation we in most cases refer to its
abstract character; that is, meditation is known to be the concentration of the mind on some highly
generalized proposition, which is, in the nature of things, not always closely and directly connected
with the concrete affairs of life. Zen perceives or feels, and does not abstract nor meditate. Zen
penetrates and is finally lost in the immersion. Meditation, on the other hand, is outspokenly
dualistic and consequently inevitably superficial.
In point of fact, Zen has no "mind" to
murder; therefore, there is no "mind-murdering" in Zen. Zen
has again no "self" as something to which we can cling as a
refuge; therefore, in Zen again there is no "self" by which we
may become intoxicated.
"Nothing really exists throughout the triple world ; where do you wish to see the mind (or spirit =
hsin)? The four elements are all empty in their ultimate nature; where could the Buddha's abode be?
—but lo! the truth is unfolding itself right before your eye. This is all there is to it—and indeed
nothing more!" A minute's hesitation and Zen is irrevocably lost.
Absolute faith is placed in a man's own inner being. For whatever authority there is in Zen, all
comes from within. This is true in the strictest sense of the word. Even the reasoning faculty is not
considered final or absolute. On the contrary, it hinders the mind from coming into the directest
communication with itself The intellect accomplishes its mission when it works as an intermediary,
and Zen has nothing to do with an intermediary except when it desires to communicate itself to
others.When Zen is thoroughly understood, absolute peace of mind is attained, and a man lives as
he ought to live. What more may we hope?
Zen is a mysticism of its own order. It is mystical in the sense
that the sun shines, that the flower blooms, that I hear at this
moment somebody beating a drum in the street. If these are
mystical facts, Zen is brim-full of them. When a Zen master was
once asked what Zen was, he replied, "Your everyday thought."
Zen sistematically trains the mind to see this; it opens a man's eye to the greatest mystery as it is
daily and hourly performed; it enlarges the heart to embrace eternity of time and infinity of space in
its every palpitation ; it makes us live in the world as if walking in the garden of Eden ; and all
these spiritual feats are accomplished without resorting to any doctrines but by simply asserting in
the most direct way the truth that lies in our inner being. And is not this practical method also a
most original one? Indeed, Zen cannot be anything else but original and creative because it refuses
to deal with concepts but deals with living facts of life. Look into your own being and seek it not
through others. Your own mind is above all forms ; it is free and quiet and sufficient ; it eternally
stamps itself in your six senses and four elements. In its light all is absorbed. Hush the dualism of
subject and object, forget both, transcend the intellect, sever yourself from the understanding, and
directly penetrate deep into the identity of the Buddha-mind;
Not a single idea will disturb your consciousness, when lo ! all of a sudden you will come to realize
a light abounding in full gladness. It is like coming across a light in thick darkness; it is like
receiving treasure in poverty. The four elements and the five aggregates are no more felt as burdens
; so light, so easy, so free you are. Your very existence has been delivered from all limitations; you
have become open, light, and transparent. You gain an illuminating insight into the very nature of
things, which now appear to you as so many fairylike flowers having no graspable realities. Here is
manifested the unsophisticated self which is the original face of your being; here is shown all bare
the most beautiful landscape of your birthplace. There is but one straight passage open and
unobstructed through and through. This is so when you surrender all—your body, your life, and all
that belongs to your inmost self. This is where you gain peace, ease, nondoing, and inexpressible
delight. All the sutras and sastras are no more than communications of this fact ;
A master would sometimes say: "I do not understand Zen.
I have nothing here to demonstrate; therefore, do not remain
standing so, expecting to get something out of nothing. Get
enlightened by yourself, if you will. If there is anything to take hold of, take it by yourself."
Again: "True knowledge (bodhi) transcends all modes of
expression. There has been nothing from the very beginning
which one can claim as having attained towards enlightenment."
"How can one always be with Buddha?"
called forth the following answer from a master : "Have no stirrings in your mind ; be perfectly
serene toward the objective world. To remain thus all the time in absolute emptiness and calmness
is the way to be with the Buddha."
Sometimes we come across the following : "The middle way
is where there is neither middle nor two sides. When you are
fettered by the objective world, you have one side ; when you are disturbed in your own mind, you
have the other side. When
neither of these exists, there is no middle part, and this is the middle way."
As to the ultimate and holiest principle of Buddhism. The sage is reported to have answered, "Vast
emptiness and nothing holy in it."
For here is no negation, no affirmation, but a plain fact, a pure experience, the very foundation of
our being and thought. Zen must be seized with bare hands, with no gloves on.
"Ignorance" is all very well as far as it goes,
but it must not go out of its proper sphere. "Ignorance" is another name for logical dualism. White
is snow and black is the raven. But these belong to the world and its ignorant way of talking. If we
want to get to the very truth of things, we must see them from the point where this world has not yet
been created, where the consciousness of this and that has not yet been awakened and where the
mind is absorbed in its own identity, that is, in its serenity and emptiness. This is a world of
negations but leading to a higher or absolute affirmation—an affirmation in the midst of negations.
Shoju asked him how much he knew of Zen. Hakuin answered disgustingly, "If there is anything I
can lay my hand on, I will get it all out of me." So saying, he acted as if he were going to vomit.
Shoju took firm hold of Hakuin's nose and said : "What is this? Have I not after all touched it?" Let
our readers ponder with Hakuin over this interview and find out for themselves what is that
something which is so realistically demonstrated by Shoju. Zen is not all negation, leaving the mind
all blank as if it were pure nothing ; for that would be intellectual suicide. There is in Zen
something self-assertive, which, however, being free and absolute, knows no limitations and refuses
to be handled in abstraction. Zen is a live fact, it is not like an inorganic rock or like an empty
space. To come into contact with this living fact nay, to take hold of it in every phase of life—is the
aim of all Zen discipline.
This state of inner consciousness, about which we cannot
make any logical statement, must be realized before we can have
any intelligent talk on Zen.
A monk asked Joshu, "What would you say when I come to
you with nothing?"
Joshu said, "Fling it down to the ground."
Protested the monk, "I said that I had nothing; what shall I
let go?"
"If so, carry it away," was the retort of Joshu.
Joshu has thus plainly exposed the fruitlessness of a nihilistic
philosophy. To reach the goal of Zen, even the idea of "having
nothing" ought to be done away with. Buddha reveals himself
when he is no more asserted ; that is, for Buddha's sake Buddha
is to be given up. This is the only way to come to the realization of the truth of zen. The only
way to get saved is to throw oneself right down into a bottomless abyss. And this is, indeed, no easy
task.
Indeed, so long as there remains the last trace of consciousness as to this and that, meum et teum,
none can come to a fuller realization of Zen, and the sages of old will appear as those with whom
we have nothing in common. The inner treasure will remain forever unearthed.
Again, when this state of non-purity is attained,
do not harbour any thought of it, and you are free of non-purity. This is absolute purity."
"With what frame of mind should one discipline oneself in
the truth?"
Said the Zen master, "There is no mind to be framed, nor is
there any truth in which to be disciplined."
"If there is no mind to be framed and no truth in which to be
disciplined, why do you have a daily gathering of monks who are
studying Zen and disciplining themselves in the truth?"
The master replied : "I have not an inch of space to spare,
and where could I have a gathering of monks? I have no tongue,
and how would it be possible for me to advise others to come to
me ?"
The philosopher then exclaimed, "How can you tell me a lie
like that to my face?"
"When I have no tongue to advise others, is it possible for me
to tell a lie?"
Said Doko despairingly, "I cannot follow your reasoning."
"Neither do I understand myself," concluded the Zen master.
The reason why we cannot attain to a thoroughgoing comprehension of the truth is due to our
unreasonable adherence to a "logical" interpretation of things. If we really want to get to the bottom
of life, we must abandon our cherished syllogisms, we must acquire a new way of observation
whereby we can escape the tyranny of logic and the one-sidedness of our everyday phraseology.(All
thinking is a kind of complaining… always comparing and allways falling short)
So long as we think logic final we are chained, we have no freedom of spirit, and the real facts
of life are lost sight of. Now, however, we have the key to the whole situation ; we are master of
realities words have given up their domination over us. If we are pleased to call a spade not a spade,
we have the perfect right to do so; a spade need not always remain a spade; and, moreover, this,
according to the Zen master, expresses more correctly the state of reality which refuses to be tied up
to names.
This breaking up of the tyranny of name and logic is at the
same time spiritual emancipation ; for the soul is no longer
divided against itself. By acquiring the intellectual freedom the soul is in full possession of itself;
birth and death no longer torment it ; for there are no such dualities anywhere ; we live even
through death.
The soul is thus made whole, perfect, and filled with bliss.
Zen deals with facts and not with their logical, verbal, prejudiced, and lame representations. Direct
simplicity is the soul of Zen; hence its vitality, freedom, and originality. In Zen it means not to get
entangled in intellectual
subtleties, not to be carried away by philosophical reasoning that is so often ingenuous and full of
sophistry. It means, again, to recognize facts as facts and to know that words are words and nothing
else.
Zen thinks we are too much of slaves to words and logic. So
long as we remain thus fettered we are miserable and go through
untold suffering. But if we want to see something really worth
knowing, that is conducive to our spiritual happiness, we must
endeavour once for all to free ourselves from all conditions ; we must see if we cannot gain a new
point of view from which the
world can be surveyed in its wholeness and life comprehended
inwardly. Plunge oneself deep into the abyss of the "Nameless" and take hold directly of the
spirit as it is engaged in the business of creating the world. In this sense Zen is pre-eminently
practical. It has nothing to do with abstractions or with subtleties of dialectics.
A few more words : the reason why Zen is so vehement in its
attack on logic, and why the present work treats first of the
illogical aspect of Zen, is that logic has so pervasively entered into life as to make most of us
conclude that logic is life and without it life has no significance. The map of life has been so
definitely and so thoroughly delineated by logic that what we have to do is simply to follow it, and
that we ought not to think of violating the laws of thought, which are final. Such a general view of
life has come to be held by most people, though I must say that in point of fact they are constantly
violating what they think inviolable. That is to say, they are "holding a spade and yet not holding
it", they are making the sum of two and two sometimes three, sometimes five; only they are not
conscious of this fact and imagine that their lives are logically or mathematically regulated.
In logic there is a trace of effort and pain; logic is selfconscious. So is ethics, which is the
application of logic to the facts of life. An ethical man performs acts of service which are
praiseworthy, but he is all the time conscious of them, and, moreover, he may often be thinking of
some future reward. Hence we should say that his mind is tainted and not at all pure, however
objectively or socially good his deeds are. Zen abhors this. Life is an art, and like perfect art it
should be self-forgetting ; there ought not to be any trace of effort or painful feeling. Life,
according to Zen, ought to be lived as a bird flies through the air or as a fish swims in the water. As
soon as there are signs of elaboration, a man is doomed, he is no more a free being. You are
not living as you ought to live, you are suffering under the tyranny of circumstances;
In other words, Zen wants to live from within. Not to be bound
by rules, but to be creating one's own rules—this is the kind of life which Zen is trying to have us
live. Hence its illogical, or rather superlogical, statements. If, on the other hand, you confess your
ignorance, I will let you see into the secret. When I say there is not, this does not necessarily mean a
negation; when I say there is, this also does not signify an affirmation.
Shuzan (Shou-shan, 926-992) once held up his shipped to an
assembly of his disciples and declared : "Call this a shippe and you assert ; call it not a shippe and
you negate. Now, do not assert nor negate, and what would you call it? Speak, speak!" One of the
disciples came out of the ranks, took the shippe away from the maister, and breaking it in two,
exclaimed, "What is this?"
Ordinarily, we dare not go beyond an antithesis just because we imagine we cannot. Logic has so
intimidated us that we shrink and shiver whenever its name is mentioned. The mind made to work,
ever since the awakening of the intellect, under the strictest discipline of logical dualism, refuses to
shake of its imaginary cangue. It has never occurred to us that it is possible for us to escape this
self-imposed intellectual limitation; indeed, unless we break through the antithesis of "yes" and
"no" we can never hope to live a real life of freedom. It is not after all so very difficult to reach a
higher form of affirmation, where no contradicting distinctions obtain between negation and
assertion. It is due to Zen that this higher affirmation has finally been reached by means of a stick
of bamboo in the hand of the Zen master.
It is not the object of Zen to look illogical for its own sake, but to make people know that logical
consistency is not final, and that there is a certain transcendental statement that cannot be attained
by mere intellectual cleverness. The intellectual groove of "yes" and "no" is quite accommodating
when things run their regular course; but as soon as the ultimate question of life comes up, the
intellect fails to answer it satisfactorily. When we say "yes", we assert, and by asserting we limit
ourselves. When we say "no", we deny, and to deny is exclusion. Exclusion and limitation, which
after all are the same thing, murder the soul ; for is it not the life of the soul that lives in perfect
freedom and in perfect unity?
Zen takes us to an absolute realm wherein there are no antitheses of any sort We must remember,
however, that we live in affirmation and not in negation, for life is affirmation itself; and this
affirmation must not be the one accompanied or conditioned by a negation; such an
affirmation is relative and not at all absolute. To be free, life must be an absolute affirmation.
It must transcend all possible conditions, limitations, and antitheses that hinder its free
activity. Any answer is satisfactory if it flows out of one's inmost being, for such is always an
absolute affirmation. To those who associate religion with pusillanimity and sanctimoniousness
the Zen master must appear a terribly unpolished fellow. But when facts are handled as facts,
without any intermediary, they are generally rude things. We must squarely face them, for no
amount of winking or evading will be of any avail. The inner eye is to be opened under a shower of
thirty blows. An absolute affirmation must rise from the fiery crater of life itself. Hoyen (Fa-yen,
died 1104), of Gosozan (Wu-tsu-shan), once
asked, "When you meet a wise man on your way, if you do not
speak to him or remain silent, how would you interview him?"
The point is to make one realize what I call an absolute affirmation.
Not merely to escape the antithesis of "yes" and "no", but
to find a positive way in which the opposites are perfectly
harmonized—this is what is aimed at in this question. The master intends to free his disciples'
minds from the bondage of logic, which has ever been the bane of humanity. This ought not to be
regarded as a riddle proposed to puzzle you. There is nothing playful about it ; if you fail to answer,
you are to face the consequences. Are you going to be eternally chained by your own laws of
thought, or are you going to be perfectly free in an assertion of life which knows no beginning or
end? You cannot hesitate. Grasp the fact or let it slip — between these there is no choice.
Its followers assert it to be the doctrine of directly pointing at the mind and attaining Buddhahood
through a perception of its
real nature. If this is so, how may I be enlightened?" Sekito
replied : "Assertion prevails not, nor does denial. When neither
of them is to the point, what would you say?" Yakusan remained
meditative, as he did not grasp the meaning of the question.
If you open your mouth trying to affirm or to negate, you are lost. Zen is no more there. But merely
remaining silent will not do, either. A stone lying there is silent, a flower in bloom under the
window is silent, but neither of them understands Zen. There must be a certain way in which
silence and eloquence become identical, that is, where negation and assertion are unified in a higher
form of statement. When we attain to this we know Zen. Zen abhors repetition or imitation of any
kind, for it kills. For the same reason Zen never explains, but only affirms. Life is fact and no
explanation is necessary or pertinent. To explain is to apologize, and why should we apologize for
living? To live—is that not enough? Let us then live, let us affirm! Herein lies Zen in all its purity
and in all its nudity as well.
The same Joshu was once asked by a monk, "All things are
reducible to the One; where is this One to be reduced?" The
master's reply was, "When I was in Tsin district I had a monk's
robe made that weighed seven chin." This is one of the most noted sayings ever uttered by a Zen
master. One may ask : "Is this what is meant by an absolute affirmation? What possible connection
is there between a monk's robe and the oneness of things?" Let me ask: You believe that all things
exist in God, but where is the abode of God? Is it in Joshu's seven-chin cassock? When you say that
God is here, he can no more be there; but you cannot say that he is nowhere, for by your definition
God is omnipresent. So long as we are fettered by the intellect, we cannot interview God as he is ;
we seek him everywhere, but he ever flies away from us.
Gutei's (Chu-chih) favourite response to any question put to
him was to lift one of his fingers. His boy attendant imitated him, and whenever the boy was asked
by strangers as to the teaching of the master he would lift his finger. Learning of this, the master
one day called the boy in and cut off his finger. The boy in fright and pain tried to run away, but
was called back, when the master held up his finger. The boy tried to imitate the master, as was his
wont, but the finger was no more there, and then suddenly the significance of it all dawned upon
him. Copying is slavery.
So far Zen has been discussed from the intellectual point of
view, in order to see that it is impossible to comprehend Zen
through this channel ; in fact it is not doing justice to Zen to treat it thus philosophically. Zen
abhors media, even the intellectual medium; it is primarily and ultimately a discipline and an
experience, which is dependent on no explanation; When Joshu (Chao-chou) was asked what the
Tao (or the truth of Zen) was, he answered, "Your every'day life, that is the Tao." In other words, a
quiet, self-confident, and trustful existence of your own—this is the truth of Zen, and what I mean
when I say that Zen is pre-eminendy practical. When Bodhidharma (Daruma in J. ; Ta-mo in C.)
was asked who he was, he said, "I do not know." This was not because he could not explain
himself, nor was it because he wanted to avoid any verbal controversy, but just because he did not
know what or who he was, save that he was what he was and could not be anything else. The reason
was simple enough. When Nangaku (Nan-yueh, 677-744) approaching the Sixth Patriarch was
questioned, "What is it that thus walks toward me?" he did not know what to answer. For eight long
years he pondered the question, when one day it dawned upon him, and he exclaimed, "Even to say
it is something does not hit the
mark." This is the same as saying, "I do not know."
Sekito once asked his disciple, Yakusan (Yueh-shan), "What
are you doing here?" "I am not doing anything," answered
the latter. "If so you are idling your time away." "Is not idling away the time doing something?"
was Yakusan's response.
Sekito still pursued him. "You say you are not doing anything;
who then is this one who is doing nothing?" Yakusan's reply
was the same as that of Bodhidharma, "Even the wisest know
it not."
We can now see why Zen shuns abstractions, representations,
and figures of speech. No real value is attached to such words as God, Buddha, the soul, the
Infinite, the One, and suchlike words. They are, after all, only words and ideas, and as such are not
conducive to the real understanding of Zen. On the contrary,they often falsify and play at cross
purposes. We are thus compelled always to be on our guard. Said a Zen master, "Cleanse the mouth
thoroughly when you utter the word Buddha." Or,"There is one word I do not like to hear; that is,
Buddha." Or,"Pass quickly on where there is no Buddha, nor stay where he is." They justly compare
Zen to lightning. The rapidity, however, does not constitute Zen; its naturalness, its freedom from
artificialities, its being expressive of life itself,its originality—these are the essential characteristics
of Zen.
Therefore, we have always to be on guard not to be carried away
by outward signs when we really desire to get into the core of
Zen.
In these dialogues do we only see trivial talks about ordinary
things of life and nature? Is there nothing spiritual, conducive to the enlightenment of the religious
soul? Is Zen, then, too practical, too commonplace? Is it too abrupt a descent from the height of
transcendentalism to everyday things? Well, it all depends on how you look at it. A stick of incense
is burning on my desk. Is this a trivial affair? An earthquake shakes the earth and Mt. Fuji topples
over. Is this a great event? Yes, so long as the conception of space remains. But are we really living
confined within an enclosure called space? Zen would answer at once : "With the burning of an
incense-stick the whole triloka bums. Within Joshu's cup of tea the mermaids are dancing." So long
as one is conscious of space and time, Zen will keep a respectable distance from you ; your holiday
is ill-spent, your sleep is disturbed, and your whole life is a failure.
A Confucian scholar writes, "They seek the truth too far
away from themselves, while it is right near them." The same
thing may be said of Zen. We look for its secrets where they are
most unlikely to be found, that is, in verbal abstractions and
metaphysical subdeties, whereas the truth of Zen really lies in
the concrete things of our daily life.
Is this Zen? Is this the kind of life-experience Zen wants us
to have? A Zen poet sings:
How wondrously strange, and how miraculous this I draw water, I carry fuel. Zen must never be
confused with naturalism or libertinism, which means to follow one's natural bent without
questioning its origin and value.
A distinguished teacher was once asked, "Do you ever make
anv effort to get disciplined in the truth?"
"Yes, I do."
"How do you exercise yourself?"
"When I am hungry I eat; when tired I sleep."
"This is what everybody does; can they be said to be exercising
themselves in the same way as you do?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because when they eat they do not eat, but are thinking of
various other things, thereby allowing themselves to be disturbed; when they sleep they do not
sleep, but dream of a thousand and one things. This is why they are not like myself." If Zen is to be
called a form of naturalism, then it is so
with a rigorous discipline at the back of it. It is in that sense, and not as it is understood by
libertines, that Zen may be designated naturalism. The libertines have no freedom of will, they are
bound hands and feet by external agencies before which they are utterly helpless. Zen, on the
contrary, enjoys perfect freedom; that is, it is master of itself. Zen has no "abiding place", to use a
favourite expression in the Prajnaparamita Sutras. When a thing has its fixed abode, it is fettered, it
is no more absolute.
"What is that you have attained under Tokusan? How serene and self-contained you are!"
"Empty-handed I went away from home, and empty-handed
I returned." Is not this a practical explanation of the doctrine
of "no abiding place"?

SATORI, OR ACQUIRING A
NEW VIEWPOINT
The object of Zen discipline consists in acquiring a new viewpoint for looking into the essence of
things. You
and I sip a cup of tea. That act is apparently alike to us both,
but who can tell what a wide gap there is subjectively between
your drinking and my drinking? In your drinking there may
be no Zen, while mine is brim-full of it. The reason for it is : you move in a logical circle and I am
out of it. This acquiring of a new viewpoint in Zen is called satori {wu in C.) and its verb form is
satoru. Without it there is no Zen, for the life of Zen begins with the "opening of satori". Satori may
be defined as intuitive looking-into, in contradistinction to intellectual and logical understanding.
Whatever the definition, satori means the unfolding of a new world hitherto unperceived in the
confusion of a dualistic mind. With this preliminary remark I wish the reader to ponder the
following mondo (literally, "asking and answering"), which I hope will illustrate my statement. One
evening Doken despairingly implored his friend to assist him in the solution of the mystery of life.
The friend said, "I am willing to help you in every way I can, but there are some things in which I
cannot be of any help to you ; these you must look after for yourself." Doken expressed the desire
to know what these things were. Said his friend: "For instance, when you are hungry or thirsty, my
eating of food or drinking will not fill your stomach; you must eat and drink for yourself When you
want to respond to the calls of nature you must take care of yourself, for I cannot be of any use to
you. And then it will be nobody else but yourself that will carry your body along this highway."
This friendly counsel at once opened the mind of the truth-seeking monk, who was so transported
with his discovery that he did not know how to express his joy.
"I really have nothing to impart to you, and if I tried to do so
you might have occasion to make me an object of ridicule.
Besides, whatever I can tell you is my own and can never be
yours." Therefore, all that we can do in Zen in the way of
instruction is to indicate, or to suggest, or to show the way so
that one's attention may be directed towards the goal. As to
attaining the goal and taking hold of the thing itself, this must be done by one's own hands, for
nobody else can do it for one. As regards the indication, it lies everywhere. When a man's
mind is matured for satori it tumbles over one everywhere.
All the causes, all the conditions of satori are in the
mind ; they are merely waiting for the maturing. When the mind
is ready for some reasons or others, a bird flies, or a bell rings, and you at once return to your
original home; that is, you discover your now real self from the very beginning nothing has been
kept from you, all that you wished to see has been there all the time before you, it was only yourself
that closed the eye to the fact. Therefore, there is in Zen nothing to explain, nothing to teach, that
will add to your knowledge. Unless it grows out of yourself no knowledge is really yours, it is only
a borrowed plumage.
Kozankoku (Huang Shan-ku), a Confucian poet and statesman
of the Sung, came to Kwaido (Hui-t'ang) to be initiated
into Zen. Said the Zen master: "There is a passage in the
text with which you are perfectly familiar which fitly describes
the teaching of Zen. Did not Confucius declare : 'Do you think
I am hiding things from you, O my disciples? Indeed, I have
nothing to hide from you.' " Kozankoku tried to answer, but
Kwaido immediately checked him by saying, "No, no!" The
Confucian scholar felt troubled in mind but did not know
how to express himself. Some time later they were having a
walk in the mountains; the wild laurel was in full bloom and
the air was redolent with its scent. Asked the Zen master, "Do
you smell it?" When the Confucian answered affirmatively,
Kwaido said, "There, I have nothing to hide from you." This
reminder at once led Kozankoku's mind to the opening of a
satori.
Your examples and statements are tentative enough, but
we simply know how the wind blows; where is the port the
boat finally makes for?" To this the Zen devotee may answer:
As far as content goes, there is none in either satori or Zen that can be described or presented or
demonstrated for your intellectual appreciation. For Zen has no business with ideas, and satori is a
sort of inner perception—not the perception, indeed, of a single individual object but the perception
of Reality itself, so to speak. The ultimate destination of satori is towards the Self; it has no other
end but to be back within oneself. Therefore, said Joshu, "Have a cup of tea." Therefore, said
Nansen, "This is such a good sickle, it cuts so well." This is the way the Self functions, and it must
be caught, if at all catchable, in the midst of its functioning.
As satori strikes at the primary root of existence, its attainment generally marks a turning point in
one's life. The attainment, however, must be thoroughgoing and clear-cut; a lukewarm satori, if
there is such a thing, is worse than no satori. See the following examples:
When Rinzai (Lin-chi) was meekly submitting to the thirty
blows of Obaku (Huang-po), he presented a pitiable sight, but
as soon as he had attained satori he was quite a different per-
sonage. His first exclamation was, "There is not much after all
in the Buddhism of Obaku." And when he again saw the reproachful Obaku, he returned his favour
by giving him a slap in the face. "What arrogance! What impudence!" one may think. But there was
reason in Rinzai's rudeness; no wonder Obaku was quite pleased with this treatment. These
examples are sufficient to show what changes are produced in one's mind by the attainment of
satori. Before satori, how helpless those monks were ! They were like travelers lost in the desert.
But after satori they behave like absolute monarchs ; they are no longer slaves to anybody, they are
themselves master.
1. Satori does not consist in producing a certain premeditated condition by intensely thinking of it.
It is acquiring a new point of view for looking at things. The discipline of Zen consists in upsetting
this groundwork once for all and reconstructing the old frame on an entirely new basis. It is
evident, therefore, that meditating on metaphysical and symbolical statements, which are
products of a relative consciousness, play no part in Zen.
2.Without the attainment of satori no one can enter into
the truth of Zen. Satori is the sudden flashing into consciousness of a new truth hitherto undreamed
of. The piling has reached a limit of stability and the whole edifice has come tumbling to the
ground, when, behold, a new heaven is open to full survey. When the freezing point is reached,
water suddenly turns into ice; Satori comes upon a man unawares, when he feels that he has
exhausted his whole being. Relgiously, it is a
new birth ; intellectually, it is the acquiring of a new viewpoint. The world now appears as if
dressed in a new garment, which seems to cover up all the unsightliness of dualism, which is called
delusion in Buddhist phraseology.
3. Satori is the raison d'Stre of Zen without which Zen is no
Zen. Therefore every contrivance, disciplinary or doctrinal, is
directed toward satori. Zen masters could not remain patient for
satori to come by itself; that is, to come sporadically or at its own pleasure. In their earnestness to
aid their disciples in the search after the truth of Zen their manifestly enigmatical presentations
were designed to create in their disciples a state of mind which would more systematically open the
way to enlightenment.
4. This emphasizing of satori in Zen makes the fact quite
significant that Zen is not a system of Dhyana as practised in
India and by other Buddhist schools in China. By Dhyana is
generally understood a kind of meditation or contemplation
directed toward some fixed thought; When the mind has been
so trained as to be able to realize a state of perfect void in
which there is not a trace of consciousness left, even the sense
of being unconscious having departed ; in other words, when
all forms of mental activity are swept away clean from the
field of consciousness, leaving the mind like the sky devoid of
every speck of cloud, a mere broad expanse of blue, Dhyana
is said to have reached its perfection. This may be called ecstasy or trance, but it is not Zen. In Zen
there must be satori; there must be a general mental upheaval which destroys the old accumulations
of intellection and lays down the foundation for a new life ; there must be the awakening of a new
sense which will review the old things from a hitherto undreamed-of angle of observation.
5. Satori is not seeing God as he is, as might be contended by some Christian mystics Zen has from
the beginning made clear and insisted upon the main thesis, which is to see into the work of
creation ; the creator may be found busy molding his universe, or he may be absent from his
workshop, but Zen goes on with its own work. It is not dependent upon the support of a creator;
when it grasps the reason for living a life, it is satisfied.
Hoyen (Fa-yen, died 1104) of Go-so-san used to produce
his own hand and ask his disciples why it was called a hand.
When we know the reason, there is satori and we have Zen.
Whereas with the God of mysticism there is the grasping of a
definite object ; when you have God, what is no-God is excluded.
This is self-limiting. Zen wants absolute freedom, even from
God. "No abiding place" means that very thing; "Cleanse your
mouth when you utter the word Buddha" appoints to the
same thing. As Joshu declared, "Zen is your everyday thought" ; it all depends on the adjustment of
the hinge whether the door opens in or opens out.

THE KOAN
The master knew that the device of a koan was an artificiality and a superfluity for unless Zen grew
out of a man's own inner activity it could not be truly genuine and full of creative vitality as it ought
to be. Here then is one of the first koans given to latter-day students. When the Sixth Patriarch was
asked by the monk Myo (Ming) what Zen was, he said: "When your mind is not dwelling on the
dualism of good and evil, what is your original face before you were born?" (Show mc this "face"
and you get into the mystery of Zen. Who are you before Abraham was born? When you have had a
personal, intimate interview with this personage, you will better know who you are and who God is.
The monk is here told to shake hands with this original man, or, if metaphysically put, with his own
inner self.)
This giving up of his last hold on life will bring
the student to a full view of "his original face", as desired by
the statement of the Sixth Patriarch. Thus it can be seen that the koan is not handled now in
precisely the same way that it was in those earlier days. As first proposed, it was the culmination, so
to speak, of all that had been working in the mind of the monk Myo, whose elaboration herein
received its final finish; or, the koan works as a leaven. When the sufficient conditions obtain, the
mind unfolds itself into the full bloom of a satori. To use a koan thus instrumentally for the opening
of the mind to its own secrets is characteristic of modern Zen.
This fundamental overthrowing is necessary in order to build up a new order of things on the basis
of Zen experience. Hence this
apparently most unnatural and therefore illogical demand made
by Hakuin on his pupils. The former koan was about "the face", something to look at, while the
latter is about "the sound", something that appeals to the sense of hearing; but the ultimate purport
of both is the same ; both are meant to open up the secret chamber of the mind, where the devotees
can find
numberless treasures stored. The sense of seeing or hearing has
nothing to do with the essential meaning of the koan ; as the Zen masters say, the koan is only a
piece of brick used to knock at the gate, an index-finger pointing at the moon. It is only intended to
synthesize or transcend—whichever expression you may
choose—the dualism of the senses. So long as the mind is not
fried to perceive a sound produced by one hand, it is limited and is divided against itself. The mind
is hopelessly buried in the relativity of things, and, therefore, in their superficiality. Until the mind
is free from the fetters, the time never comes for it to view the whole world with any amount of
satisfaction. To designate them as "sub-consciousness" or "supra-consciousness" is not correct. The
word "beyond" is used simply because it is a most convenient term to indicate their whereabouts.
But as a matter of fact there is no "beyond", no "underneath", no "upon" in our consciousness. The
mind is one indivisible whole and cannot be torn in pieces. The koan is neither a riddle nor a witty
remark. It has a most definite objective, the arousing of doubt and pushing it to its furthest limits.
The koan is an iron wall standing in the way and
threatening to overcome one's every intellectual effort to pass.
When Joshu says "the cypress-tree in the courtyard", or when
Hakuin puts out his one hand, there is no logical way to get
around it. You feel as if your march of thought had been suddenly cut short. You hesitate, you
doubt, you are troubled and agitated, not knowing how to break through the wall which
seems altogether impassable. When this climax is reached,
your whole personality, your inmost will, your deepest nature,
determined to bring the situation to an issue, throws itself with no thought of self or no-self, of this
or that, directly and unreservedly against the iron wall of the koan. This throwing your entire being
against the koan unexpectedly opens up a hitherto unknown region of the mind. Intellectually, this
is the transcending of the limits of logical dualism, but at the same time it is a regeneration, the
awakening of an inner sense which enables one to look into the actual working of things. THE
EYE SEES, THE EAR HEARS, TO BE SURE, BUT IT IS THE MIND AS A WHOLE
THAT HAS SATORI ; IT IS AN ACT OF PERCEPTION, NO DOUBT, BUT IT IS A
PERCEPTION OF THE HIGHEST ORDER. Here lies the value of the Zen discipline, as it
gives birth to the unshakable conviction that there is something indeed going beyond mere
intellection.
The wall of koan once broken through and the intellectual
obstructions well cleared off, you come back, so to speak, toNu-ti poti angaja/constinentiza intreaga fiinta decat
your everyday relatively constructed consciousness. The one
hand does not give out a sound until it is clapped by the other. in fata absurdului
In the deschis
early days de T'ang
of the koan si asta e rostul lui.
dynasty people were more simple-hearted and believing, their minds were not crammed with
intellectual biases. But this state of affairs could not, in the nature of things, last very long ; to
maintain the vitality of Zen it was necessary to find some device whereby Zen could be made more
approachable and to that extent more popular ; the koan exercise had to be established for the
benefit of the rising generations and also for the coming ones. It is only in Japan that Zen is still
virile and still finds its orthodox exponents; and there is every reason to believe that this is due to
the system of reviewing the koans in connection with the practice of zazen. There is no doubt that
this system is largely artificial and harbours grave pitfalls, but the life of Zen runs through it when
it is properly handled. To those who pursue it judiciously under a really competent master, Zen-
experience is possible and a state of satori will surely come. Zen attempts to take hold of life in its
act of living; to stop the flow of life and to look into it is not the business of Zen. The constant
presence of the koan before our mental vision keeps the mind always occupied; that is, in full
activity. Satori is attained
in the midst of this activity and not by suppressing it, as some
may imagine. How much Zen differs from "meditation" as the
latter is generally understood, and practised, we now can see
better from what has been said above as regards the nature of
the koan. To be thoroughly consistent, Zen should remain a simple absolute experience excluding
all that savours of process or system or discipline. The koan must be an excrescence, a superfluity,
indeed a contradiction." Theoretically, or rather from the absolute point of view, this is quite correct
therefore, when Zen is asserted "straightforwardly" it recognizes no koan and knows of no round-
about way of proclaiming itself. Just a stick, a fan, or a word ! Even when you say, "It is a stick," or
"I hear a sound," or "I see the fist," Zen is no more there. It is like a flash of lightning, there is no
room, no time, in Zen even for a thought to be conceived. We speak of a koan or a system only
when we come to the practical or conventional side of it. As has been said before, it is really a
condescension, an apology, a compromise, that this present work has been written ; much more the
whole systematization of Zen.
The trouble with most religious recluses is that their mind and body do not act in unison; their
body is always separated from their mind, and the latter from the former ; they imagine that there is
the body and there is the mind and forget that this separation is merely ideational, and therefore
artificial. THE AIM OF THE ZEN DISCIPLINE BEING TO ANNUL THIS MOST
FUNDAMENTAL DISCRIMINATION, IT IS ALWAYS CAREFUL TO AVOID ANY
PRACTICE WHICH TENDS TO EMPHASIZE THE IDEA OF ONESIDEDNESS. SATORI
IN TRUTH CONSISTS IN REACHING THE POINT WHERE ALL OUR
DISCRIMINATORY NOTIONS ARE DONE AWAY WITH, THOUGH THIS IS BY NO
MEANS A STATE OF EMPTINESS. The sluggishness of mind which is so
frequently the product of quietistic meditation, we can thus
see, is not at all conducive to the maturing of satori, and those who want to advance in the study of
Zen have naturally to be always on guard in this respect lest it should finally altogether stop the
fluidity, as it were, of mental activity. This is at least one reason why Zen followers object to the
mere practice of Dhyana. The body kept busy will also keep the mind busy, and therefore fresh,
wholesome, and alert. Indeed, there is nothing lukewarm in Zen ; if it is lukewarm, it is not Zen.

TAO-SHENG

Tao-sheng is known today for two theories. The first was that
good deeds do not automatically bring reward, a repudiation of
the Indian Buddhist concept of merit. The other, and perhaps
more important, deviation he preached was that enlightenment
was instantaneous. The reason, he said, was simple: since
Buddhists say the world is one, nothing is divisible, even truth,
and therefore the subjective understanding of truth must come all
at once or not at all. Preparatory work and progress toward the
goal of enlightenment, including study and meditation, could
proceed step-by-step and are wholesome and worthwhile, but to
"reach the other shore," as the phrase in the Heart Sutra
describes enlightenment, requires a leap over a gulf, a realization
that must hit you with all its force the first time.
What exactly is it that you understand on the other shore?
First you come to realize—as you can only realize intuitively and
directly—that enlightenment was within you all along. You become
enlightened when you finally recognize that you already had it.
The next realization is that there actually is no "other shore," since
reaching it means realizing that there was nothing to reach. As his
thoughts have been quoted: "As to reaching the other shore, if
one reaches it, one is not reaching the other shore. Both notreaching
and not-not-reaching are really reaching. . . . If one sees
Buddha, one is not seeing Buddha. When one sees there is no
Buddha, one is really seeing Buddha."21
Little wonder Tao-sheng is sometimes credited as the spiritual
father of Zen. He championed the idea of sudden enlightenment,
something inimical to much of the Buddhism that had gone
before, and he distrusted words (comparing them to a net which,
after it has caught the fish of truth, should be discarded). He
identified the Taoist idea of wu-wei or "nonaction" with the
intuitive, spontaneous apprehension of truth without logic,
opening the door for the Ch'an mainstay of "no-mind" as a way to
ultimate truth.

HOANG PO
Only come to know the nature of your own Mind and you will come to see that there’s no self and no
other.

“All Budhha’s techings just had this single object-

 To carry us beyond the stage of thought.
Now, if I accomplish cessation of my thinking,
What use to me the Dharmas Buddha tought?”
Mind is the Budhha, and the individual mind and body are nothing. This teaching is called the Great Way.
The very nature of the Great Way is voidness of opposition. Bodhidharma firmly believed in BEING “ONE
WITH THE REAL ‘SUBSTANCE’ OF THE UNIVERSE IN THIS LIFE”! That substance is Mind. ‘Buddha’ and
‘sentient beings’ are both your own false conceptions. It is because you do not know real Mind that you
delude yourself with such objective concepts. If you will conceive of a Buddha YOU WILL BE OBSTRUCTED
BY THAT BUDDHA!!! And when you conceive of sentient beings, you will be obstructed by those beings. All
such dualistic concepts as ‘ignorant’ and ‘Enlightened’, ‘pure’ and ‘impure’ are obstructions.
Since Mind knows no divisions into separate entities, phenomena must be equally undifferentiated.
Anuttara-samyak-sambodhi is a name for the realization that the Buddhas of the whole universe do not in
fact possess the smallest perceptible attribute. There exists just the One Mind. Whoever perceives a self in
matter is travelling a wrong path; he cannot comprehend the Tathagata thus. If you accept the doctrine
transmitted by Bodhidharma you will point only to the One Mind wich is without identity or difference,
without cause or effect.
You must be warn against conceiving of entities as existing or not existing and thereby falling into
the error of special separateness, and against conceiving of individuals as ignorant or enlightened, and
thereby falling into the same error. Only one entirely liberated from concepts can possess a body of infinite
extent. All conceptual thinking is called erroneous belief.
Tathagata means the THUSNESS of all phenomena. THUSNESS consists of not being subject to becoming or
to destruction; in not being seen and in not being heard. So do not fall into conceiving of perfection
objectively. The Great Void is perfection wherein is neither lack nor superfluity, a uniform quiescence in
which all activity is stilled. There is only the One Mind, Mind which is neither Buddha, nor sentient beings,
for it contains no such dualism. As soon as you conceive of the Buddha, you are forced to conceive of
sentient beings, or of concepts and no-concepts, of vital and trivial ones, which will surely imprison you
between those two iron mountains.
On account of the obstacles created by dualistic reasoning, Bodhidharma merely pointed to the original
Mind and substance of us all as being in fact the Buddha. He offered no false means of self-perceiving
oneself; he belonged to no school of gradual attainment. His doctrine admits of no such attributes as light
and dark. Whosoever enters the gateway of our sect must deal with everything solely by means of the
intellect. This sort of perception is known as the Dharma; as the Dharma is perceived we speak of Buddha;
while perceiving that in fact there are no Dharma and no Buddha is called entering the Sangha. Those who
seek the Dharma must not seek from the Buddha, nor from the Dharma, nor from the Sangha. They should
seek from nowhere. When the Buddha is not sought, there’s no Buddha to be found! When the Dharma is
not sought, there’s no Dharma to be found! When the Sangha is not sought, there is no Sangha!
If you suppose there is a Dharma to be preached, you will naturally ask me to expound it, but if you
postulate a ‘ME’, that implies a spacial entity! The Dharma is NO Dharma – it is MIND! Therefore
Bodhidharma said:
Though I handed down Mind’s Dharma,
How can Dharma be a Dharma?
For neither Mind nor Dharma
Can objectively exist.
Only thus you’ll understand
 The Dharma that is passed with Mind to Mind.
Knowing that in truth not a single thing exists which can be attained is called sitting in a bodhimandala. A
bodhimandala is a state in which no concepts arise, in which you awaken to the intrinsic voidness of
phenomena, also called the utter voidness of the Womb of Tathagatas.
There’s never been a single thing;
Then where’s defiling dust to cling?
If you can reach the heart of this,
Why talk of transcendental bliss?
Q: If ‘there’s never been a single thing’, can we speak of phenomena as non-existent?
A: ‘Non-existent’ is just as wrong as its opposite. Bodhi means having no concept of existence or non-
existence.
You have always been one with the Buddha, so don’t pretend you can ATTAIN to this oneness by various
practices. Thus, Gautama Buddha silently transmitted to Mahakasyapa the doctrine that the One Mind,
which is the substance of all things, is co-extensive with the Void and fills the entire world of phenomena.
This is called the Law of All the Buddhas. Discuss it as you may, how can you even hope to approach the
truth through words? Nor can it be perceived either subjectively or objectively. So full understanding can
come to you only through an inexpressible mystery. The approach to it is called the Gateway of the
Stillness beyond all Activity. If you wish to understand know that a sudden comprehension comes when the
mind has been purged of all the clutter of conceptual and discriminatory thought-activity. Those who seek
the truth by means of intellect and learning only get further and further away from it. Not till your thought
cease all their branching here and there, not till you abandon all thoughts of seeking for something, not till
your mind is motionless as wood or stone, will you be on the right road to the Gate.
It is said: “when thoughts arise, then do all things arise. When thoughts vanish, then do all things vanish.”
All intellectual processes and movements of thought result from your concepts. If you were to refrain from
conceptualization altogether, where could the Buddha continue to exist? You are in the same predicament
as Mansjusri who, as soon as he permitted himself to conceive of the Buddha as an objective entity, was
dwarfed and hemmed in on all sides by those two iron mountains.
Where will you seek the Buddha? You cannot place a head upon your head, or lips upon your lips; rather,
you should just refrain from every kind of dualistic distinction. Hills are hills. Water is water. Monks are
monks. Laymen are laymen. But these mountains, these rivers, the whole world itself, together with the
sun, moon and stars – not one of them exists outside your minds! Outside Mind, there is nothing. Not a
hairsbreadth of anything exists outside the concepts you have formed for yourself! Phenomena do not
arise independently but rely upon environment, and it’s their appearing as objects which necessitates all
sorts of individualized knowledge. No bodys and no minds that is the Way of the Buddhas.
If you still cling to the notion that something, even if it be as small as the hundredth part of a grain, might
exist objectively, then even a perfect mastery of the entire Mahayana Canon will fail to give you victory
over the Three Worlds. Only when every one of those tiny fragments is seen to be nothing can the
Mahayana achieve this victory for you.
If only you would learn how to achieve a state of non-intellection, immediately the chain of causation will
snap. Give up those erroneous thoughts leading to false distinctions! There is no ‘self’ and no ‘other’. There
is no ‘wrong desire’, no ‘anger’, no ‘hatred’, no ‘love’, no ‘victory’, no ‘failure’. Only renounce the error of
intellectual or conceptual thought-processes and your nature will exhibit its pristine purity-for this alone is
the way to attain Enlightenment. If only you could comprehend the nature of your own Mind and put an
end to discriminatory thought, there would naturally be no room for even a grain of error to arise. As it is,
so long as your mind is subject to the slightest movement of thought, you will remain engulfed in the error
of taking ‘ignorant’ and ‘Enlightened’ for separate states.
Where you to practice keeping your minds motionless at all times, whether walking, standing, sitting or
lying; concentrating entirely upon the goal of no thought –creation, no duality, no reliance on others and
no attachements; just allowing all things to take their course the whole day long, as though you were too ill
to bother; unknown to the world; innocent of any urge to be known or unknown to others; with your mins
like blocks of stone that mend no holes – then all the Dharmas would penetrate your understanding
through and through. In a little while you would find yourselves firmly unattached. Thus, for the first time in
your lives, you would discover your reaction to the phenomena decreasing and, ultimately, you would pass
beyond the Triple World. Pure passionless knowledge implies putting an end to the ceaseless flow of
thoughts and images, for in that way you stop creating the karma that leads to rebirth – whether as gods or
men or as sufferers in hell. Once every sort of mental process has ceased, not a particle of karma is formed.
But, were the Bodhisattvas to suddenly lose the power of keeping their mind free from conceptual thought,
attachment to form would drag them back into the phenomenal world, and each of those forms would
create for them a demon’s karma!
Mind is filled with radiant clarity, so cast away the darkness of your old concepts. “Rid yourself of
everything”. Thus, the womb of Tathagatas is intrinsically a voidness and silence containing no
individualized dharmas of any sort or kind. Says the sutra: ”The entire relams of all the Buddhas are equally
void.”
Though others may talk of the Way of the Buddhas as something to be reached by various pious
practices and by sutra-study, you must have nothing to do with such ideas. A perception, sudden as
blinking, that subject and object are one, will lead to a deeply mysterious wordless understanding; and by
this understanding you will awake to the truth of Zen. Thus Bodhidharma sat rapt in meditation before a
wall; he did not seek to lead people into heaving opinions. Therefore it is written:”To put out of mind even
the principle from which action springs is the true teaching of the Buddhas, while dualism belongs to the
sphere of the demons.” Your true nature is something never lost to you even in moments of delusion, nor
is it gained at the moment of Enlightenment. In it is neither delusion nor right understanding. It fills the
Void everywhere and is intrinsically of the substance of the One Mind. The Void is fundamentally without
spatial dimensions, passions, activities, delusions or right understanding. You must clearly understand that
in it there are no things, no men and n Buddhas, for this Void contains not the smallest hairsbreadth of
anything that can be viewed specially; it depends on nothing and is attached to nothing. It is all-pervading,
spotless beauty; it is the self-existent and uncreated Absolute.

Sincronicitatea:

It is possible to say that there are three important, but, in true Buddhist fashion,
interconnected, ideas in the work, none of which can stand on its own but which together
make up the central thrust of the teaching. They are the two truths doctrine, emptiness
(sunyata) and dependent arising or co-dependent origination (pratityasamutpada). Together,
these three make up the Middle Way of Nagarjuna.

the two truths doctrine: libertatea adevarului creatiei

emptiness (sunyata) : pacea identitatii depline/neintermediate

co-dependent origination (pratityasamutpada): viziunea participativa a fericirilor

It must be kept in mind that none stand on their own and, even more importantly, none
should be taken as some kind of “ultimate truth”; they are but pedagogical devices
allowing us a way of knowing the empty nature of truth.

In the Buddhist view, this is called ignorance and leads to suffering (dukha). The two
truths doctrine is based on the practicality of teaching (upaya) rather than dogma. From a
conventional
viewpoint, we can say that things are causally produced and are impermanent but from a
higher viewpoint, causal production and impermanence (or permanence) cannot be
established and dualistic thinking must be rejected.

Our tendency to objectify the world around us, while it may be convenient, causes us to
believe that things (and this includes ourselves) have an independent ‘self-existence’.

In other words, a ‘higher’ truth is based only on conventional reality, not on a

metaphysics.

What is important to realise about emptiness is that it does not deny the existence of
things (conventional reality) but says that all things (everything) have no intrinsic essence.
In other words, nothing exists on its own, divorced or separated from other things.

Therefore, emptiness itself must be empty or else emptiness would be the ‘essence’ of
everything and Nagarjuna asserted that there is no ‘essence’ to anything, even emptiness
itself.
Madhyamika Buddhism refutes all ‘truths’ as being but provisional: “One should be
empty of all truths and lean on nothing.” (Cheng, 1991:46) Emptiness, pratityasamutpada,
the Four Noble Truths, all of the Tathagata’s teachings are just upaya; none should be
asserted as ‘the truth’.

So, what does the emptiness of emptiness mean? Where does it lead us? It leads us back to
‘conventional’ reality. If ultimate reality is itself empty, ultimate reality can be nothing
more than conventional reality. The two are identical. THE VIMALAKIRTINIRDESA
SUTRA SAYS: “TO SAY THIS IS CONVENTIONAL AND THIS IS ULTIMATE IS
DUALISTIC. TO REALISE THAT THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE
CONVENTIONAL AND THE ULTIMATE IS TO ENTER THE DHARMA-DOOR OF
NONDUALITY.” (quoted in Garfield and Priest, 2003) The Heart Sutra, the heart of Zen
Buddhism, says the same thing:
“Form is emptiness; emptiness is form; form is no different from emptiness; emptiness is
no different from form.” This links the ‘two truths’ together.