Zen Koans- a selection

SEKKYO said to one of his monks, "Can you get hold of Emptiness?" "I'll try" said the monk, and he cupped his hands in the air. "That's not very good," said Sekkyo. "You haven't got anything in there!" "Well, master," said the monk, "please show me a better way." Thereupon Sekkyo seized the monk's nose and gave it a great yank. "Ouch!" yelled the monk. "You hurt me!" "That's the way to get hold of Emptiness!" said Sekkyo.

THE MASTER Nan-in had a visitor who came to inquire about Zen. But instead of listening, the visitor kept talking about his own ideas. After a while, Nan-in served tea. He poured tea into his visitor's cup until it was full, then he kept on pouring. Finally the visitor could not restrain himself. "Don't you see it's full?" he said. "You can't get any more in!" "Just so," replied Nan-in, stopping at last. "And like this cup, you are filled with your own ideas. How can you expect me to give you Zen unless you offer me an empty cup?"

THE MASTER Gutei made a practice of raising his finger whenever he explained a question about Zen. A very young disciple began to imitate him, and every time Gutei raised his finger when he preached, this boy would raise his finger too. Everybody laughed. One day Gutei caught him at it. He took the boy's hand, whipped out a knife, cut off the finger and threw it away. The boy walked off howling. "Stop!" shouted Gutei. The boy stopped, and looked at the master through his tears. Gutei raised his finger. The boy raised his finger. Then suddenly he realized it wasn't there. He hesitated a moment: Then he bowed.

A FAMOUS soldier came to the master Hakuin and asked: "Master, tell me: is there really a heaven and a hell?" "Who are you?" asked Hakuin. "I am a soldier of the great Emperor's personal guard." "Nonsense!" said Hakuin. "What kind of emperor would have you around him? To me you look like a beggar!" At this, the soldier started to rattle his big sword in anger. "Oho!" said Hakuin. "So you have a sword! I'll wager it's much too dull to cut my head off!" At this the soldier could not hold himself back. He drew his sword and threatened the master, who said: "Now you know half the answer! You are opening the gates of hell!" The soldier drew back, sheathed his sword, and bowed. "Now you know the other half," said the master. "You have opened the gates of heaven."

In TETSUGEN'S time the holy Buddhist books in Chinese had never been published in Japanese, and Tetsugen thought they should be prepared so for his own countrymen. He planned to have several thousand copies printed from hand-engraved woodblocks, and went from town to town to collect donations so this great work could go ahead. After ten years he had the money needed, and started to have the blocks cut. Just then the Uji river flooded, and there was famine in the land. Tetsugen took the money he had collected, and bought rice for the starving people. Then he started out to collect his funds again. Whether the donation was a little one or in coins of gold, he was equally grateful. After some years, he had the money again. Then an epidemic passed over the country. Thousands of families were left without support. So Tetsugen spent all the money he had collected, helping the helpless. When it was all gone, he started collecting it again. Finally his great project was accomplished, and he died content. Tetsugen's edition of the holy books in Japanese can still be seen. But those who know, say that the first two editions, which have never been seen, far surpass the third.

TWO MONKS, Tanzan and Ekido, were walking down a muddy street in the city. They came on a lovely young girl dressed in fine silks, who was afraid to cross because of all the mud. "Come on, girl," said Tanzan. And he picked her up in his arms, and carried her across. The two monks did not speak again till nightfall. Then, when they had returned to the monastery, Ekido couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Monks shouldn't go near girls,' he said; "certainly not beautiful ones like that one! Why did you do it?" "My dear fellow," said Tanzan. "I put that girl down, way back in the city. It's you who are still carrying her!"

A MASTER who lived as a hermit on a mountain was asked by a monk, "What is the Way?" "What a fine mountain this is," the master said in reply. "I am not asking you about the mountain, but about the Way." "So long as you cannot go beyond the mountain, my son, you cannot reach the Way," replied the master.

SHUZAN held up his staff and waved it before his monks. "If you call this a staff," he said, "you deny its eternal life. If you do not call this a staff, you deny its present fact. Tell me just what do you propose to call it?"

JOSHU asked a monk who appeared for the first time in the hall, "Have I ever seen you here before?" The monk answered, "No sir, you have not." "Then have a cup of tea," said Joshu. He turned to another monk. "Have I ever seen you here before?" he said. "Yes sir, of course you have," said the second monk. "Then have a cup of tea," said Joshu. Later, the managing monk of the monastery asked Joshu, "How is it that you make the same offer of tea whatever the reply to your question?" At this Joshu shouted, "Manager, are you still here?" "Of course, master!" the manager answered. "Then have a cup of tea," said Joshu.

MATAJURA wanted to become a great swordsman, but his father said he wasn't quick enough and could never learn. So Matajura went to the famous dueller Banzo, and asked to become his pupil. "How long will it take me to become a master?" he asked. "Suppose I became your servant, to be with you every minute; how long?" "Ten years," said Banzo. "My father is getting old. Before ten years have passed I will have to return home to take care of him. Suppose I work twice as hard; how long will it take me?" "Thirty years," said Banzo. "How is that?" asked Matajura. "First you say ten years. Then when I offer to work twice as hard, you say it will take three times as long. Let me make myself clear: I will work unceasingly: no hardship will be too much. How long will it take?" "Seventy years" said Banzo. "A pupil in such a hurry learns slowly." Matajura understood. Without asking for any promises in terms of time, he became Banzo's servant. He cleaned, he cooked, he washed, he gardened. He was ordered never to speak of fencing or to touch a sword. He was very sad at this; but he had given his promise to the master, and resolved to keep his word. Three years passed for Matajura as a servant. One day while he was gardening, Banzo came up quietly behind him and gave him a terrible whack with a wooden sword. The next day in the kitchen the same blow fell again. Thereafter, day in, day out, from every corner and at any moment, he was attacked by Banzo's wooden sword. He learned to live on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge at any movement. He became a body with no desires, no thoughts - only eternal readiness and quickness. Banzo smiled, and started lessons. Soon Matajura was the greatest swordsman in Japan.

THE STUDENT Tokusan used to come to the master Ryutan in the evenings to talk and to listen. One night it was very late before he was finished asking questions. "Why don't you go to bed?" asked Ryutan. Tokusan bowed, and lifted the screen to go out. "The hall is very dark," he said. "Here, take this candle," said Ryutan, lighting one for the student. Tokusan reached out his hand, and took the candle. Ryutan leaned forward, and blew it out.

A STUDENT came before the master Bankei and asked to be helped in getting rid of his violent temper. "Show me this temper," said Bankei. "It sounds very fascinating." "I haven't got it right now, so I can't show it to you, said the student. "Well then," said Bankei,"bring it to me when you have it." "But I can't bring it just when I happen to have it," protested the student. "I'd surely lose it again before I got it to you. "In such a case," said Bankei, "it seems to me that this temper is not part of your true nature. If it is not part of you, it must come into you from outside. I suggest that whenever it gets into you, you beat yourself with a stick until the temper can't stand it, and runs away."

THE STUDENT Doko came to a Zen master, and said: "I am seeking the truth. In what state of mind should I train myself, so as to find it?" Said the master, "There is no mind, so you cannot put it in any state. There is no truth, so you cannot train yourself for it." "If there is no mind to train, and no truth to find, why do you have these monks gather before you every day to study Zen and train themselves for this study?" "But I haven't an inch of room here," said the master, so how could the monks gather? I have no tongue, so how could I call them together or teach them?" "Oh, how can you lie like this?" asked Doko. "But if I have no tongue to talk to others, how can I lie to you?" asked the master. Then Doko said sadly, "I cannot follow you. I cannot understand you. "I cannot understand myself," said the master.