Day gives way to night. Life gives way to death. Truth gives way to truth and falsity to falsity. Nothing moves, nothing cedes, all is constant. This is enso, one stroke, complete and incomplete and this is mu. You may enter freely, but will never leave, and once captured you have never been here and cannot enter. If this seems confusing, it is precisely what it should be and you have seen clearly. Welcome! Now leave.
If you ask me whether a dog has buddha nature I will stare back at you in total silence. If you ask again, or implore an answer I will smile at you, offer gassho and a bow. If you ask yet again, I will turn away and you will be left with a box into which you dare not look lest you find Schroedinger’s cat.
I spent much of yesterday trying to draw perfect enso. You would think it easy to draw the simple circle, one easy stroke, but my efforts suggest otherwise. It is my Western mind, my teacher once suggested, always linear, this moment next to that, and then the one that must naturally follow. If not a straight line, a line nonetheless. I tried to tell him that was not it, I am not as linear as he imagines, but all he said was “mu,” rang his bell and called for the next student. Anyway, he said as I departed, “keep trying, giving up your monkey mind can occur in that moment, in every moment,” and I want to believe him, certainly, but my ill drawn circle calls him a liar.