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Zen Buddhism Koan Practice
by Genjo Marinello
Koan is a Japanese word that comes from the Chinese, kung-an, that means public
dictate. It is a reference to examples that are meant to guide life; or in the
case of Zen, these dictates are meant to be catalysts for awakening one's true/deep/pure
nature. They often recount an encounter between master and disciple, where the
master's response or question is said to reveal the deep nature of things as
they are. Perhaps the earliest example of a koan comes from the fable of the
time the historical Buddha held up a flower before an assemblage of followers
and spoke not a word. It is said that all remained silent and puzzled except
for his disciple Venerable Kasho who is said to have smiled in recognition.
What was transmitted when the Buddha held up a flower? Don't explain it, show
me your understanding!, shouts the Zen master. To do so you must at once become
the Buddha, Kasho, and the flower! Koans are an advanced tool, and have no inherent
power in and of themselves, but
can be very enlightening when used properly. I have heard Genki Roshi (Zen master
& Abbot) refer to them as a can-opener for the Heart/Mind (kokoro). They
are like a door-knocker, they are of no use, unless used properly as a tool
to knock on the door of one's Heart/Mind. Koans should only be used after one's
meditation has entered Samadhi. Samadhi is the condition of one's mind when
all the silt and ripples (ideas, thoughts, feelings, judgments) have quieted
and the mind has become clear, calm, clean, naturally reflective and free-flowing
in this moment. If your mind has not yet achieved Samadhi, don't bother with
koans. Koans deliberately stir up the
waters of the mind, and if the mind is already disturbed, koan practice will
only make things worse. This is why Genki Roshi only assigns koans during Sesshins
(long concentrated periods of meditation) where reaching Samadhi is more likely.
If the mind is practiced at a given level of Samadhi, then a koan can be used
to stretch one's Samadhi-mind to a bigger dimension. By resolving a koan, that
is to say encompassing the example/dictate/question with one's understanding,
small mind is slowly or suddenly stretched and awakened into Big Mind. Koans
are NOT answered. Any descriptive response, yes/no response, or this/that response
will be rejected. Yet, no response is also no good! How then can one respond
at all? When the deep meaning of the koan is understood directly, then a token
of that understanding is easy to present. Usually no words
are necessary, some poetic or creative gesture will suffice. This is why I say
that koans are not answered, but resolved.To work on a koan is to let a koan
work on you. Once a measure of Samadhi is attained, the practitioner calls the
example or question to mind. The only volition appropriate in Koan work is calling
the
question gently but repeatedly to consciousness. Do not waste any time trying
to figure the koan out. Let it stretch your mind through the questioning alone,
make no effort to solve it. Any analysis is a waste of time, and at best will
produce a ÒfoxÓ or pseudo-Zen response. Koans are a devilish instrument
because they deliberately tempt us to make an interpretation, explanation, imitation
or analysis; and yet, it is only when we exhaust or give
up these lines of investigation that a deeper level of inquiry becomes possible.
Often, only when we are able to admit in frustration that we don't know anything,
can true koan practice begin. Allow the koan to sit in your belly, there it
may begin to feel like you have swallowed a hot iron ball that can not be digested
or expelled. Eventually, sometimes after years of practice, the koan will do
its work, the mind will open in gentle deep understanding, and any number of
simple direct responses will seem obvious. Koans are questions or statements
that are like a challenge to your person, your most fundamental perception of
self. Koans act like swords to stab at your ego and draw forth your Buddha Nature
(your fully natural nature that is not dependent on your self-definition).
The practitioner's job is not to fight or struggle with these attacks, but to
neutralize them. This is done by making a genuine, authentic, spontaneous, gut
response. Whenever a response to a koan arises within me prior to dokusan (personal
interview between Roshi and the student) I let it go, this is the best guarantee
that the response that arises in the dokusan line or in front of the Roshi will
be fresh. Now, it is often the
case that the response that I make at dokusan is nearly identical to my first
inclination; yet, by letting the first and subsequent responses go, the Koan
has the best chance to broaden one's understanding into the fullest flowering.
To understand a Koan with your rational mind is only the smallest of beginnings;
to understand the koan fully through and through, with every fiber of your being,
is just a good start. To respond to a Koan we must learn to manifest our understanding
simply and directly without hesitation. To manifest our response is to give
a pure
reflection of what is being pointed at. For example, the answer to the koan
What is the sound of one hand clapping is SILENCE: the silence that permeates
the universe, the Tao itself. Yet, this somewhat rational understanding says
nothing. As a response it is already long dead. How will you feel this silence
in every fiber of
your being, and once this is directly experienced, how will you manifest a token
of your experience to the Roshi's satisfac-tion? Be courageous, do not be just
still and frozen; at least say "I don't know." Any response that is
turned away will close off a blind alley, or push you down some new direction.
Slowly the Roshi
will help eliminate any response but a pure reflection of what is being pointed
at.Each Koan begs for a uniquely individual response within the frame of the
question. If a Koan is like a fist to the head it is useless
to respond with a kick to the shins. If the Roshi asks for an apple, bring your
own variety; but understand that a orange or a loaf of bread won't do.Koans
are like seeds of awakening. Sometimes there is a prolonged
and difficult growing period, sometimes the growing period is short and direct.
Always, we await the fruit of one's response to ripen and fall of its own accord.
To fully resolve a koan one must allow it to grow to full maturity; a koan must
reveal itself. To nurture and care for a koan, simply and repeatedly prod your
awareness with
the essence of the "question" or "encounter." For example,
if the koan is "Bring me the essence of the temple bell sound," then
first we nurture the ground in which the koan will be planted by settling into
samadhi (the condition of one's mind when we are completely and naturally calm,
balanced, and so fully present and involved in this
moment that our activity flows easily like water down hill). Once samadhi activity
is established (sitting, i.e. zazen, walking, i.e. kinhin, working, i.e. samu),
we plant the koan gently, repeatedly and attentively by bringing the koan to
our awareness and allowing it to rest in our abdomen. There it will grow and
ripen without any further effort on our part. In the example of the essence
of the temple bell sound, we allow the sound of the temple bell to resonate
in our abdomen until it can flow out of us without any rational discrimination,
analysis, or hesitation. At this moment of awakening, the fruit of the koan
will spontaneously erupt from our core as a clear resonating response without
any coloring of "it" or "me." Nothing will separate the
practitioner and the sound, they
will be one without interference from discriminating consciousness.Over the
years of doing koan practice with four different Roshis (Zen masters), I have
come to understand that koans fall roughly
into five different categories. Actually, any number of sub-divisions could
be devised, and all are ultimately meaningless, a koan is just a koan. However,
for the benefit of trying to communicate the flavor of koan work, I have dreamed
up the following five groupings. Some koans beg the practitioner to drop the
barriers between oneself and nature. Koans like bring me the sound of rain,
the essence of flower, or a mountain on a rope, all
move a practitioner in this direction of expanded awareness. Other koans beg
the practitioner to drop the artificial and conceptual barriers between oneself
and Buddha. Koans like Òbring me the essence of the standing altar statue,
bring me the essence of Zen master activity (Gutei, Zuigan, RinzaiÉ),
or If hanging from a
branch by your teeth over a precipice, with your hands and feet unable to grasp
a branch, how will you respond to a sincere request to reveal the Dharma (Truth/Zen
essence)? Some koans beg the
practitioner to open all the doors to the human condition by asking "bring
the essence of old man (or women, child, infant, trickster, fool, priest, monk,
teacher, death, birth, friend, foe, joy,
sorrow)." Some koans beg the practitioner to reveal the Tao itself (the
foundation of Reality that transcends life and death, form or no form, right
and wrong, yin and yang, male and female, and all other dualities). Koans that
get the practitioner to stretch their awareness in this direction might ask
"what is the sound of one hand
clapping," "reveal the essence of Mu," "show me the source
of earth, wind, fire, and water." Finally, there are koans which beg the
practitioner to put it all together and reveal ordinary activity as fully awakened
activity.
Koans that prod us to open in this way can ask "reveal the true nature
of the universe while washing bowls," "what do you do after you reach
the top of a hundred foot pole (after enlightenment then what?)," "6ow
do you climb Buddha mountain," "where is master Rinzai's person of
no-rank and no-post right now." All koans beg us
to wake up right now and live fully in this moment without any filter between
us and the rest of reality. When formal koan study is well on its way, we discover
that our life itself is the greatest of all koans. Any problem or condition
that seems to separate us from ourselves, or anyone or anything else, can be
used as a koan. Plant the problem in your gut as described above and wait for
it to ripen and fall without trying to fix, change, or
analyze it. You will discover that all problems are illusions of one kind or
another. To see reality clearly is to remove all the barriers within and between
one's self and other than self. The third Dharma ancestor in Zen has said that
nothing is separate or excluded, all things move and intermingle without distinction.
For example, I am often obsessed by various thought patterns that seem to repeat
endlessly; yet, if I step back from the pattern or pain and hold it gently and
attentively in my belly or lap, then in fairly short order the pattern or pain
dissolves, sometimes revealing a previously unseen truth or story, sometimes
just dissipating without a trace. Sometimes the relief is temporary, sometimes
it is permanent, but always with gentle attentive awareness there is some resolution
or at least evolution. I was once asked if responding to a koan was like acting,
and I said: "yes, like very good acting where, in pure genuineness, there
is nothing separating the actor or actress from the role being played."
Kaohsiung, Taiwan Expat Community Forum Kaohsiung Living
