Probably the most famous koan amongst Zen enthusiasts is the notorious mu. Here it is:
A monk asked the Zen master Joshu, "Has a dog Buddha-nature
or not?" Joshu answered “mu”.
Anyone who has delved but little into Zen literature cannot imagine the amount of writing this has produced as well as countless personal records of Zen acolytes, describing their early studies with a roshi containing some passage like, “I was given mu and spent two years on it.”
What’s going on? There are two important issues here. First, what does mu actually mean in this context? Generally, mu means no, not, without, nothing, or nonexistence.
Second, according to traditional Buddhist doctrine, a dog, like all sentient beings, indeed has Buddha-nature.
Second, according to traditional Buddhist doctrine, a dog, like all sentient beings, indeed has Buddha-nature.
So, if the mu in the passage above means no, it is counter to established doctrine. On the other hand, if it is to be understood along the lines of nothing or nonexistence, what does that mean? One commentator suggests that Joshu’s answer is basically,"Your question cannot be answered because it depends on incorrect assumptions".
Koans, as Zen adepts know, do not actually have meanings – do not have answers or solutions, as it were. Rather they are devices to force the mind out of the normal processes of thought, out of the patterns and constraints of discursive reasoning until, in a moment of enlightenment, the seeker sees the true nature of Mind.
Koans, as Zen adepts know, do not actually have meanings – do not have answers or solutions, as it were. Rather they are devices to force the mind out of the normal processes of thought, out of the patterns and constraints of discursive reasoning until, in a moment of enlightenment, the seeker sees the true nature of Mind.
I, however, being the unenlightened simpleton that I am, always think of that other famous anecdote of Zen literature.
A famous samurai asked Master Hakuin: 'What happens to the
enlightened man at death? What happens to the unenlightened man?'
The master replied: 'Why ask me?' 'Because you are a Zen master!'
'Yes,' said Hakuin, 'but not a dead one!'
Therefore, guided by Master Hakuin, I offer this alternative answer for Joshu.
A monk asked the Zen master Joshu, "Has a dog Buddha-nature
or not?" Joshu answered “How should I know? I am not a dog.”
notes
Joshu is the Japanese name for the Chinese Zen master Zhaozhou, 778 – 897, a major figure in the history of Zen.
From Oxford University Press
About his first experience of (partial) enlightenment, he wrote the following memorable passage:
"Suddenly I was ruined. Whatever I was before, is all
ruined. I was not that. I had cultivated a personality, a
mind, a heart – nothing of that was me. The satori
left me suddenly ruined and homeless. . .”
ruined. I was not that. I had cultivated a personality, a
mind, a heart – nothing of that was me. The satori
left me suddenly ruined and homeless. . .”
He lived a long life and is said to have achieved full enlightenment at the age of 80.
The best-known anecdote about him, after mu, is this one:
A monk asked Zhaozhou to teach him.
Zhaozhou asked, "Have you eaten your meal?"
The monk replied, "Yes, I have."
“Then go wash your bowl", said Zhaozhou.
At that moment, the monk was enlightened.
A thousand years later, the Japanese Hakuin Ekaku, 1686 – 1768, was responsible for the revival and reinvigoration of the Rinzai sect of Zen. In addition to being a Zen master, in his later years he became well-known for his painting and calligraphy.
Two Blind Men Crossing a Log Bridge - Hakuin
Calligraphy - Hakuin
Hakuin placed great emphasis on koans in his instruction. The single most famous koan, even in the world beyond Zen, is attributed to him:
“Two hands clap and make a sound. What is the sound of one hand?”
The exchange quoted above, (‘Yes, but not a dead one!' ), is widely attributed to Hakuin, although the attribution is disputed by some scholars:
Finally, I must include this charming story:
A beautiful girl in the village was pregnant. Her angry parents demanded to know who was the father. At first resistant to confess, the anxious and embarrassed girl finally pointed to Hakuin, the Zen master whom everyone previously revered for living such a pure life. When the outraged parents confronted Hakuin with their daughter's accusation, he simply replied "Is that so?"
When the child was born, the parents brought it to Hakuin, who now was viewed as a pariah by the whole village. They demanded that he take care of the child since it was his responsibility. "Is that so?" Hakuin said calmly as he accepted the child.
For many months he took very good care of the child, until the daughter could no longer withstand the lie she had told. She confessed that the real father was a young man in the village whom she had tried to protect. The parents immediately went to Hakuin to see if he would return the baby. With profuse apologies they explained what had happened. "Is that so?" Hakuin said as he handed them the child.
