If your teacher asks
you to bring him all
of the Dharma you have learned
what will you bring him?
If you begin to recite
what you know
of the sutras
he will turn away
and cover his ears.
If you sit
next to him in silence
he will smile.
A reflection on Case 25 of the Book of Equanimity, 従容錄, Shōyōroku
There was the collectivist period,
those years when I wanted
a copy of every book on Buddhism
I could locate, a full and nearly
complete library, sutras and
philosophical discourses included.
There was the moment when I
realized the absurdity of all that,
the attachment to texts
to enable me to find the ability
to practice non-attachment,
and I gave the books away,
and finally set off on the path
the books only poorly described.
As you wander around
looking for a place
to build a temple,
looking for eden,
looking for nirvana,
stop and simply sit,
listen to the breeze
teaching you the Dharma,
the clouds chanting
the sutras in a harmony
beyond your hearing.
Look down for you
are in your temple,
sitting in eden
nirvana at your feet.
A reflection on case 4 of the Book of Equanimity Koans
In the farthest reaches
of the afterlife, the old men
gather each day, although
day and night are meaningless
to them, just assigned
for purposes of the writer.
The Buddha recites sutras
hoping the others will
be in the moment with him,
while Hillel smiles, stands
on one foot and dreams
of a lean pastrami on rye
with a slice of half sour.
Christ muses on when
mankind might be ready
for his return visit,
and Hillel says “good luck
with that, it’s been downhill
with them for two millenia.
Shroedinger sits off
to the side staring intently
at the box, wondering
if there is a cat inside.
6.
Ox and man
walk the dusty
path to the small hut
sit along the fence
and look deeply
into the bottomless
night sky
as they have
for the endless
journey
埃だらけの道をたどって
男と牛は小屋をめざす
塀にもたれて腰かけ
果てのない夜空を見つめる
終わりのない旅路で
いつもそうしてきたように
7.
Each morning
the man senses the ox
is in the pen, the ox
smells the man
in the small
slowly collapsing hut.
there is no ox
there is no hut
毎朝男は
牛舎に牛の気配を感じ
牛はゆっくりと朽ち果てていく小屋の中に
男の息づかいを感じとる
小屋はなく、牛もいない
8.
No man
そして男も
9.
a brilliant sky
painted neon
a rhapsodic stream
stones clattering together
in equipoise rhythm
the cedar smells faintly
sweet in the honeyed rain
of early autumn.
All is present, unnamed
unnamable.
青く澄み渡った空
滔々と流れる小川に
小石が奏でる単調なリズム
かすかな杉の香りが
初秋のやさしい雨に甘く漂う
何もかもがここにあり
名前はいらない
10.
Old man, now,
steps toward the market
one among hundreds
he sips sake
speaks to many
many men, women, children
many oxen emerge.
年老いた男は市場に向かう
時折酒を飲みながら
数知れぬ男や女、子供たちと
道すがら言葉を交わしながら
ふと気づくと、
どこからかたくさんの牛が現れる
1.
He takes a first step
eyes scanning
the path, the field
the forest
for the ox.
There is
no ox.
男は最初の一歩を踏み出し
道に、野原に、その先の森に目をやる
男の目は牛を探し求める
だがどこにも牛の姿はない
2.
Much time passes
another step
and there
in the soft mud
of spring a print
of hoof, deep
isolated
unpaired.
長い時間が過ぎ
男はさらに歩を進める
そして春のぬかるみの中にひとつ
人知れず埋もれた
蹄（ひずめ）の跡を見つける
3.
A step
in the distance
faint in morning fog
at the very edge
of vision
the ox stands
for a moment
he freezes for
an eternity.
また一歩進むと
朝もやに霞む視界の隅に
男の目は牛の姿をとらえる
そして永遠の一瞬に
男は立ちすくむ
4.
Reaching forward
with his foot
he gently places
a loop of rope
around the neck
of the waiting ox.
The ox stands
staring past the horizon
unmoving.
男はさらに踏み出して
じっと待っている牛の首に
そっと縄をかける
牛は身じろぎもせず
ただ地平線の彼方を見つめている
5.
He whispers
to the beast
and it steps
seeking his next
request, kneeling
to ease his dismount.
男が牛に囁きかけると
牛は歩みを止め
男の次の言葉を待つ
男が降りやすいように跪きながら
If you go walking one day
and meet a person you think
may be the Buddha, ask him
what is the heart of all of the sutras.
If he answers you with Dharma
will you be certain this person
is not the Buddha?
If, on the other hand,
he says nothing at all,
and merely holds up a mirror,
will you be certain you
are seeing the Buddha?
Decide before he crosses
the river and is gone from sight.
It always seems odd that the teacher
asks me to think about my practice
when the heart of my practice is learning
how not to always think about things.
But the heart of practice is exactly
these oddities, for nothing is exact.
In the fourth vow I strive to attain
the great way of Buddha, but I know,
as the Heart Sutra reminds me, that
there is “not even wisdom to attain,
attainment, too, is emptiness.”
And so I sit in confusion each day,
and bits of delusion fall away,
like the hair on my ever balding scalp.
The true sound
of the inkin bell
can be heard in
the instant before
the striker
and the bell meet.
It is this purest
of tones in which
all of Buddha’s teachings
are laid open
for your inspection,
if only you are willing
to close your eyes
and finally see.
On the road
I found Tao.
I held it
and gazed at it
from every angle,
but seeing nothing
placed it back
on the road.
On the road
I found a sutra.
I held the scroll
and gazed at its
strange letters,
but reading nothing
placed it back
on the road.
On the road
I found a small squirrel.
I held it
and gazed at its
broken leg.
I set the leg
and put it into my pocket
stroking its head,
and together we walked
down the road
chasing the sun.
an old writer and his words 