Case 29 of the Gateless Barrier: Hui-neng: “Not the Wind; Not the Flag”
Two monks were arguing about the temple flag waving in the wind. One said, “The flag moves.” The other said, “The wind moves.” They argued back and forth but could not agree.
The Sixth Ancestor said, “Gentlemen! It is not the wind that moves; it is not the flag that moves; it is your mind that moves.” The two monks were struck with awe.
Aitken, Robert. The Gateless Barrier: The Wu-Men Kuan (Mumonkan) (p. 228). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.
Step back.
Watch the flag yourself, flapping in the wind. Is it wind or flag moving? Or is the flag still and the world around it bending and flapping? Without concepts of wind, flag, and mind, look again, look deeply. What is your response that side-steps argument with either monk or with Hui-neng.
“It is your mind that moves.” I checked the language with several different translations, and the gist is the same. Hui-neng calling it out as your mind, points to “mind” with a lower case “m.” If he had said it is Mind with upper case “M” would you take this story differently?
In his comment on the case, Wu-men weighs in:
It is not the wind that moves. It is not the flag that moves. It is not the mind that moves. How do you see the Ancestral Teacher here? If you can view this matter intimately, you will find that the two monks received gold when they were buying iron. The Ancestral Teacher could not repress his compassion and overspent himself.
Aitken, Robert. The Gateless Barrier: The Wu-Men Kuan (Mumonkan) (p. 228). Farrar, Straus and Giroux. Kindle Edition.
Wu-men amplifies his point in his verse for this case:
Wind, flag, mind move— all the same fallacy;
only knowing how to open their mouths;
not knowing they had fallen into chatter.
It is not wind and not flag moving, and Wu-men also points beyond your mind. One commentator (Sekida Roshi) says Hui-neng is telling the monks their minds are moving so they might stop right there and look at the flag. Stop argumentation and see. Hearing Hui-neng, they did stop. Stopping they were filled with awe. The argument fell away, and gold remained.
The history of Hui-neng is familiar to many of us; how after hearing a monk on the street recite a passage from the diamond sutra, Hui-neng crossed China from his home in the south to study at the temple of the fifth patriarch Hung-jen. Illiterate, Hui-neng was able only to work in the kitchen. When seeing a poem on the temple wall, his kitchen buddy told him of the old master’s plan to retire and to give transmission to the suitable person who offered a poem demonstrating their understanding.
The Platform Sutra written by Hui-neng has a version of what comes next that has additional context and some differences from our koan version in the Gateless Barrier collection.
So the venerable Shenxiu [the precept instructor] held up a lantern and wrote his poem on the wall of the south corridor at midnight without anyone seeing him. His poem went:
Our body is a bodhi tree
the mind is like a propped-up mirror
always keep it polished
don’t let it gather dust.
In Red Pine’s translation of this poem, he had a footnote informing us that the mirror that is referenced here was made of bronze and quickly tarnished, implying the need for regular polishing. We can understand this in our own sitting on the second day as we turn once again to hear what we hear, and to breathe this one breath.
In a talk Joan Rieck gave, she told us of seeing a temple altar that had a bronze mirror in the place of the Buddha figure. She didn’t say it was tarnished, but said it gave a more mottled and obscure reflection than we expect from our modern mirrors of glass and silver. Joan expressed her deep appreciation for the bronze-mirror altar figure, showing us ourselves on the altar, mottled and discolored, and at once absolutely as is, without need of polish or dusting.
In the Platform Sutra, the fifth patriarch, Hung-jen, responded to the poem of Shenxiu first by speaking to the monks:
The Master then called his disciples together and burned incense before the poem. When everyone saw this, they were filled with respect. The Master said, “Any of you who recites and understands this poem will see their nature. And anyone who relies on this for their practice won’t descend into a lesser state of existence.” As his disciples recited it, they all did so with reverence and exclaimed how wonderful it was.
Hung-jen then called Shenxiu to meet individually.
The Fifth Patriarch said [to Shenxiu], “This poem of yours shows your understanding has reached the threshold but has not yet entered the door. If an ordinary person uses your poem in their practice, they won’t regress. But someone who seeks perfect enlightenment will never realize it by means of such an understanding. If you want to enter the door, you have to see your nature. Go back and think about this for a few days and write me another poem.”
Pine, Red. Three Zen Sutras: The Heart, The Diamond, and The Platform Sutras (Counterpoints Book 7) (p. 70-72). Catapult. Kindle Edition.
Once again an ancestor in the dharma uses words to point to something beyond words. Our minds hear this and want to form a plan to implement this. A plan can be helpful in getting us here each morning. Once here, release all plans. Another ancestor said, “Exhaust your words, empty your thoughts.”
We all sometimes question the consistency of the need for training when there is nothing to learn. Why polish the bronze mirror when the discolored reflection is perfect as it is? We could extend this to our daily lives – why weed a garden or clean a toilet? Check in with yourself when seeing an overgrown garden – do you need your mind to move to motivate you to tend what you see? Or does the motivation arise, leading to hands reaching for a bucket and tools. Seeing a soiled toilet bowl, do thoughts about what is right to doand wrong to do lead to action? Or does action arise from seeing what you see.
As I watched this morning, Ace saw the flowers by the dojo’s entrance as she entered. I didn’t ask her about it, but it seemed it was her absolutely natural gesture to adjust one flower as she passed.
In talking to the disciples, Hung-jen unreservedly affirmed the importance of polishing and clearing dust. In talking to Shenxiu , he again unreservedly affirmed there is something beyond polishing and clearing dust. There is no sign in this story of his finding inconsistency in his having a time to say one, and a time to say the other.
Hui-neng continued his own story in first person, describing what happened after his kitchen buddy told him about the poem on the temple wall. Here is the next passage:
The novice then led me to the south corridor, and I bowed before the poem. Because I was illiterate, I asked someone to read it. Once I heard it, I realized what was truly important and also composed a poem. I asked someone who could write, to write it on the west corridor wall so I could reveal my mind.
Because Shenxiu wrote his poem on the wall, Hui-neng heard it and realized what was truly important. Realizing what was important, Hui-neng could not help but to express his mind. What is this mind he revealed? He went on to say more about it:
Unless a person knows their mind, studying the Dharma is useless. But once someone knows their mind and sees their nature, they understand what is truly important. My poem went:
Bodhi isn’t some kind of tree
this mirror doesn’t have a stand
our buddha nature is forever clear
where do you get this dust?Then I composed another one:
The mind is the bodhi tree
the body is the mirror’s stand
the mirror itself is so clear
dust has no place to land.Pine, Red. Three Zen Sutras: The Heart, The Diamond, and The Platform Sutras (Counterpoints Book 7) (pp. 74-75). Catapult. Kindle Edition.
For reference, I’ll repeat Shenxiu’s poem:
Our body is a bodhi tree
the mind is like a propped-up mirror
always keep it polished
don’t let it gather dust.’”
Hui-neng knew his mind and wrote a poem. If knowing was one-and-done, he would have gone back to the milling room right then. Instead, he wrote a second poem – the one that shows up in our koan curriculum. Water continues to flow to the sea whether knowing or not knowing, whether clearing dust or there existing no dust to clear. We play with words to express mind by writing mind with upper and lower case “m,” and still water evaporates and falls again as rain.
In another passage of The Platform Sutra, Hui-neng says it differently:
Simply practice with an undivided mind and don’t become attached to any dharma. This is what is meant by One Practice Samadhi.
Pine, Red. Three Zen Sutras: The Heart, The Diamond, and The Platform Sutras (Counterpoints Book 7) (p. 81). Catapult. Kindle Edition.
Without judging this mind or that mind, dust and no dust to be found, we experience divided and undivided mind as we sit. Neither is good, neither is bad. One might be preferred, as I might have preference for a well-tended garden.
In the quiet of our zazen anywhere, there is no need to reflect on mind or line up our definitions and understandings. Little I’ve said in this talk calls for consideration, except as the words, mine and Hui-neng’s, distill your own recognition of seeing this as just this, and that as just that. Divided as just divided, and undivided as just undivided.
With eyes open, see the room without thought of room. Take in the wonder of the occurrence of floor and walls, windows and doors. Any concept is a distraction; there is nothing to figure out.
I’ll end with commentary from Yamada Roshi about Ma-tsu, who was a Dharma grandson of Hui-neng:
Ma-tsu used the phrase “This mind itself is Buddha” throughout his long teaching career, and it became well known in China. In time it was on everyone’s lips. So he felt obliged to change it—to “No mind, no Buddha.”
Mumon Roshi, Yamada. Hakuin’s Song of Zazen: Yamada Mumon Roshi on Zen Practice (p. 72). Shambhala. Kindle Edition.
Notes
(In another translation, Shibayama has, “It is neither wind nor the flag that is moving. It is your mind that is moving.” Foster Aitken translation: The Sixth Ancestor said, “Gentlemen! It is not the wind that moves; it is not the flag that moves; it is your mind that moves.” The two monks were struck with awe.)