-- The Meaning --

When Liang-chieh was crossing the water and saw his image reflected, he suddenly understood the teaching of Yun-yen. Thus he made the following gather:
You should not search through others,
Lest the Truth recede farther from you,
When alone I proceed through myself,
He is the same as me,
Yet I am not he!
Only if you understand this
Will you identify with tathata.

-- THE TRULY WISE OLD MONK --

A young Zen monk was recognized by his teacher as having experienced an initial breakthrough enlightenment (Japanese: satori, kensho). His teacher then told the young man that, for realizing complete, irreversible enlightenment (Sanskrit: anuttara-samyak-sambodhi), he would need to study under a certain wise old master whose small temple was situated in another part of the country. And so the young man set off to meet the old master. After several weeks of travel, he finally arrived at the remote temple. The sentry told him that all the other monks were working at their daily chores, and sent the young man straightaway to the meditation hall to meet the venerable master.

Entering the meditation hall, the young monk espied an old man doing repeated prostrations to a simple statue of the Buddha, softly chanting the name of Buddha Amida (who saves all sentient beings from suffering). The young man was shocked. Having realized from his teacher the basic truth that the Self or Buddha-nature is formless openness-emptiness, utterly transcendent and all-pervasive, he was a bit disturbed to see the old man apparently still caught up in such “dualistic” practices—ritually bowing to an idol and chanting with devotion to a mythical Buddha.

And so he came up to the aged monk, introduced himself, and, from his “truly enlightened” perspective, proceeded to lecture the old man on the futility and stupidity of worshipping mere forms. Finally, his brief rant over, he realized that, having traveled such a long way to meet the “master,” he should probably ask the old monk for whatever wisdom he had to share. “So, old man, what can you tell me about full enlightenment?”

In response, the master smiled, said nothing, and resumed sincerely bowing in gratitude before the statue of the Buddha, gently invoking the Name of Amida on behalf of all beings….

And, in a flash, the young man fully understood the way of true spirituality, and he, too, began spontaneously to bow alongside the old master. 

-- VISITING TEACHER --

When Chan Master Deshan (Te-shan, 782-865) arrived at Guishan monastery, he carried his bundle with him into the teaching hall, where he crossed from east to west and then from west to east. He looked around at all the monks assembled and said, “There’s nothing here, simply no one at all.” Then he went out.

-- WHO ARE YOU? --

Keiji, a long-time Zen student, approached his master and said: “I don’t see how there can be any enlightenment that sets you free once and for all. I think we just get ever greater glimpses of Buddha-nature, the vastness that is our true Reality. It’s an ever-expanding process.” The master, looking penetratingly at Keiji, replied. “That may be what you think. But what is your experience, your experience right now?” Keiji looked momentarily confused. “My experience right now, Master?” “Yes. Do you know yourself as Keiji, having ever-expanding experiences of Buddha-nature? Or do you know yourself as Buddha-nature, having the experience of Keiji?” 

-- THE WISE MAN --

Daoxin (Tao-hsin, 580-651), the so-called "4th Chinese Chan Patriarch," the actual first Chan master of a settled monastic community, stated: “The wise man does nothing, while the fool is always tying himself up.” 

Peace!

--Non-Attachment--

Kitano Gempo, abbot of Eihei temple, was ninety-two years old when he passed away in the year 1933. He endeavored his whole life not to be attached to anything. As a wandering mendicant when he was twenty he happened to meet a traveler who smoked tobacco. As they walked together down a mountain road, they stopped under a tree to rest. The traveler offered Kitano a smoke, which he accepted, as he was very hungry at the time.

“How pleasant this smoking is,” he commented. The other gave him an extra pipe and tobacco and they parted.

Kitano felt: “Such pleasant things may disturb meditation. Before this goes too far, I will stop now.” So he threw the smoking outfit away.

When he was twenty-three years old he studied I-King, the profoundest doctrine of the universe. It was winter at the time and he needed some heavy clothes. He wrote his teacher, who lived a hundred miles away, telling him of his need, and gave the letter to a traveler to deliver. Almost the whole winter passed and neither answer nor clothes arrived. So Kitano resorted to the prescience of I-King, which also teaches the art of divination, to determine whether or not his letter had miscarried. He found that this had been the case. A letter afterwards from his teacher made no mention of clothes.

“If I perform such accurate determinative work with I-King, I may neglect my meditation,” felt Kitano. So he gave up this marvelous teaching and never resorted to its powers again.

When he was twenty-eight he studied Chinese calligraphy and poetry. He grew so skillful in these arts that his teacher praised him. Kitano mused: “If I don’t stop now, I’ll be a poet, not a Zen teacher.” So he never wrote another poem.