Category Archives: Koans

Ancient Stories

Koan: The Thief Who Became a Disciple

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.

Koan: The Dead Man’s Answer

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!”

Koan: Joshu’s Zen

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.”

Koan: Sleeping in the Daytime

Sleeping in the Daytime

The master Soyen Shaku passed from this world when he was sixty-one years of age. Fulfilling his life’s work, he left a great teaching, far richer than that of most Zen masters. His pupils used to sleep in the daytime during midsummer, and while he overlooked this he himself never wasted a minute.

When he was but twelve years old he was already studying Tendai philosophical speculation. One summer day the air had been so sultry that little Soyen stretched his legs and went to sleep while his teacher was away.

Three hours passed when, suddenly waking, he heard his master enter, but it was too late. There he lay, sprawled across the doorway.

“I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon,” his teacher whispered, stepping carefully over Soyen’s body as if it were that of some distinguished guest. After this, Soyen never slept again in the afternoon.

Koan: Flower Shower

Koan: Flower Shower

Subhuti was Buddha’s disciple. He was able to understand the potency of emptiness, the viewpoint that nothing exists except in its relationship of subjectivity and objectivity.

One day Subhuti, in a mood of sublime emptiness, was sitting under a tree. Flowers began to fall about him.

“We are praising you for your discourse on emptiness,” the gods whispered to him.

“But I have not spoken of emptiness,” said Subhuti.

“You have not spoken of emptiness, we have not heard emptiness,” responded the gods. “This is the true emptiness.” And blossoms showered upon Subhuti as rain.

Koan: Every-Minute Zen

Koan: Every-Minute Zen

Zen students are with their masters at least ten years before they presume to teach others. Nan-in was visited by Tenno, who, having passed his apprenticeship, had become a teacher. The day happened to be rainy, so Tenno wore wooden clogs and carried an umbrella. After greeting him Nan-in remarked: “I suppose you left your wooden clogs in the vestibule. I want to know if your umbrella is on the right or left side of the clogs.”

Tenno, confused, had no instant answer. He realized that he was unable to carry his Zen every minute. He became Nan-in’s pupil, and he studied six more years to accomplish his every-minute Zen.

Book: The Sayings of Layman P’ang, by James Green

Book Review: The Sayings of Layman P’ang: A Zen Classic of China
Translated by James Green
Shambhala Publications, 2009, 144 pages.
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1590306309/?tag=askdrarca-20

When the mind is at peace,
The world too is at peace. –Laymen P’ang


Layman P’ang was a Chan/Zen Buddhist during the Tang Dynasty. He serves as an exemplary figure to those Buddhists practicing outside of monasticism. He studied and practiced Buddhism with his whole family and from his stories about them and his writings come the most famous of the Buddhist sayings.

In an age where it was common for those spiritually-minded individuals to give up their possessions and families and go off to live in a monastery, old Mr. Pang chose not to take that route. Instead, he and his family made a living selling baskets and studying with many traveling masters through the years. This book is a collection of nearly 60 stories of Mr. P’ang and his family, and his dialogues with these masters. In these discussions, sometimes the Master would teach Layman P’ang something, but just as often the reverse would happen.

Most of the stories are fairly cryptic to the modern reader, and are essentially koans. One reads the story and asks, ‚Äúwhat just went on there?‚Äù There are extensive footnotes after each story, but rather than explain the meaning, most of the footnotes explain more about the characters or put the story in some kind of context. It’s usually up to the reader to find the meaning.

There is a lot of introductory material in this book before the stories actually start, and much of this introduction is valuable in itself. It explains the significance of being a layman compared to being a monk, and why P’ang is looked at as a traditional hero. It gives a bit ofhistory about the various masters and monks mentioned in the stories and what they are best known for.

The book is short, at 144 pages with largish type and lots of white space. You could read it in an evening if you wanted to make the attempt, but as with most books of this type, it would probably be better to read one or two of the single-page-long stories per day and give them time to make sense.

If you enjoy koans, pick this book up. It’s got the usual koan-style stories in it, but there is enough help in the footnotes to understand what was really going on. Even if you don’t enjoy the ‚Äúriddle‚Äù aspect of koans, Layman P’ang’s thoughtful, mysterious, and funny insights are worth a look.

Koan: Mokusen’s Hand

Mokusen’s Hand

Mokusen Hiki was living in a temple in the province of Tamba. One of his adherents complained of the stinginess of his wife.

Mokusen visited the adherent’s wife and showed her his clenched fist before her face.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the surprised woman.

“Suppose my fist were always like that. What would you call it?” he asked.

“Deformed,” replied the woman.

Then he opened his hand flat in her face and asked: “Suppose it were always like that. What then?”

“Another kind of deformity,” said the wife.

“If you understand that much,” finished Mokusen, “you are a good wife.” Then he left.

After his visit, this wife helped her husband to distribute as well as to save.

Koan: Everything Is Best

When Banzan was walking through a market he overheard a conversation between a butcher and his customer.

“Give me the best piece of meat you have,” said the customer.

“Everything in my shop is the best,” replied the butcher. “You cannot find here any piece of meat that is not the best.”

At these words Banzan became enlightened.

Koan: No Water, No Moon

When the nun Chiyono studied Zen under Bukko of Engaku she was unable to attain the fruits of meditation for a long time.

At last one moonlit night she was carrying water in an old pail bound with bamboo. The bamboo broke and the bottom fell out of the pail, and at that moment Chiyono was set free!

In commemoration, she wrote a poem:

In this way and that I tried to save the old pail
Since the bamboo strip was weakening and about to break
Until at last the bottom fell out.
No more water in the pail!
No more moon in the water!