Blue Cliff Record Case 36; Roaming the Mountains
Chosha went roaming the mountains one day. On returning, when he came to the gate the congregation leader said, “Where have you been, Master?”
Chosha said, “Roaming the mountains.”
The congregation leader said, “Where did you go?”
Chosha said, “First I followed the fragrant grasses on the way out, then I came back pursuing the falling flowers.”
The congregation leader said, “How very much like the sense of spring.”
Chosha said, “It even surpasses the autumn dew dripping on the lotuses.”
[Xuedou] added the words, “Thank you for your answer.”
(Secrets of the Blue Cliff Record; Zen Comments by Hakuin and Tenkei. Translated by Thomas Cleary)
The head monk asked Chosa, “Where have you been, Master?” There is a note in the Aitken-Yamada translation saying that the question literally was, “Where did you come and go?”
Chosa replied, “Roaming the mountains.” He spoke these three words and left it at that. Before considering anything else recorded for this koan story, stop and take in Chosa’s expression as complete. If you like, you can replace “mountains” with another word, like, “Safeway,” or “dojo.” If you speak these three words as your own, what is it that you are saying; what is the experience you are expressing?
Synonyms for “roam” include, “wander,” “drift,” and “meander,” but would not include “lost” Roaming implies ease, movement that is not goal directed. Yet, if not drawn by something, why do anything, and why not just sit down, or stay in bed?
We describe animals as roaming to find food. They may favor places where they’ve been fed previously, but for me, “wandering” would not naturally describe setting up a grid search. Though if done with a free spirit, a grid search would be fine too. For our purposes today, there is no need to parse all potential meanings of “roam,” but instead to get a sense of what it would be for you as Chosa, to say you were “roaming the mountains.”
The story goes on, with Chosa saying this:
First I followed the fragrant grasses on the way out, then I came back pursuing the falling flowers.
Chosa is unconcerned about violating concepts of Zen; he’s free to come and go, free to follow and pursue, and free to speak in past tense. We could say this is ordinary, though not in a way that diminishes what he says and does.
Drawn in by the fragrances of the world, and then return to the falling away of the same fragrances. There is no one and nothing left out here, just as we each inspire with our chest expanding, and expire with chest contracting. Though talking about where he went, he’s right here at 1910 24th Ave. South, and on Zoom.
As Chosa yourself, be at ease, taking in the fragrances and moving in accord. Walk kinhin with airplanes above and the cool breeze that sweeps over all of Puget Sound and all across the skin of your arms. Wander in it, letting the light on flower arrangements loosen any grip on reveries of the mind. Roaming today through each activity is sesshin.
Our tradition is full of stories of a hapless Zen adept meeting a teacher, being asked where he came from, and being given or spared admonition. If moment by moment, just here, then how could I say where I’ve come from? Of course, if meeting someone at a friend’s party and failing to answer would be weird and pretentious. But these are “teaching stories”; if taken in that spirit, consider the message– no coming and no going, just here – as a call to every-minute practice. Not that anyone practices every minute, but the call can bring us back now. Look afresh, here.
Chosa does not follow the formulae of some of the other stories, and offers yet another call. Roaming with open eyes, all is fresh.
Chosa is describing sesshin. We wander here in the morning, with open eyes and open arms. From the alarm to coffee and tea, we roam to our cushions without need of a grid search or planning. Goal or no goal, we arrive here, and here we are. Whatever the intention or motivation that initiated the activity, let it go and just act. That is non-passive roaming. We sit quiet and still, breath wafting in of its own accord, and drifting out without need for our intervention. Roaming twice around the dojo after the three bells, we don’t know where we are going, nor where we’ll end up.
Roaming is a timeless activity. The ringing of two bells arises out of time.
Thoughts have their purposes, and they can drop a veil between us and whatever we’re doing. As you wander, don’t be seduced by “it should not be like this,” or “I should not be like that.” Rather than being about agreement with all that is, it is intimacy with all that is. Abide here and release all expectations, resistance, and quarrel. Abide in this place from which the response arises.
In the Cleary translation, the congregation leader responded to Chosa saying this:
How very much like the sense of spring.
The Foster-Aitken translation renders it this way:
That’s spring mood.
Spring can be intoxicating, lakes thaw, perennials push through the soil and arise from the dead, birds return, build nests, and fill the sky with song.
When starting from a place of ease, the fragrance is enough to move our feet; swinging one leg and then another, arms swing in response– it takes an effort to prevent them. Some of our ancestors identify the exchanges between the head monk and Chosa as dharma dialogue or dharma combat, and if so, the head monk is challenging Chosa here. The head monk may be challenging Chosa by saying Chosa is captured by his own mood and is leaving something out or holding on to something already gone.
I can’t speak for Chosa on this, and that’s not the point of a teaching story. I can stop and look, feel, listen – is there something I’ve left out? Maybe something I thought I knew and even argued for, and now see I was wrong. Or is there something I’ve thought was here that’s gone? There are many poignant examples for what might have slipped away from us – love, youth, an ability, a friend.
In the koan story, Chosa and the head monk use images of spring and fall – Spring and fall are images that abound in the legacy we have from China and Japan. Spring is evocative of life awakening and our engagement with it. In the spring of our life we build, connect, create, dance and act with purpose. In the autumn of practice, our thoughts fall like leaves, and the skies become quiet. Like in the later days of sesshin, when our thoughts become quiet.
In Zen’s Chinese Heritage, translator Ferguson gives us this story:
Zen master Furong Daokai addressed the monks, saying, “I don’t ask about the last thirty days of the twelfth month. I just want to know about the great matter of the twelfth month. Everyone! At that moment, Buddha can’t help you, Dharma can’t help you, the ancestors can’t help you, all the teachers on earth can’t help you, I can’t help you, and the King of Death can’t help you. You must settle this matter now! … Speak out! What is the lesson of this very moment? Do you understand? Next year there’ll be a new shoot growing. The annoying spring wind never ceases.”
Ferguson, Andy. Zen’s Chinese Heritage: The Masters and Their Teachings . Wisdom Publications. Kindle Edition.
Spring shows up again, this time when we’re asked about the great matter at the end of the Buddha Way, now what is this all about? If relying on the words of our esteemed ancestors we can only be misled. So, right here we are told, Speak! Settled or clear, thoughts return like fresh shoots every spring. It is folly to wrestle with spring to prevent the return of flowers and birds. So, what is the Buddha Way?
Perhaps the head monk questioned whether Chosa’s wanderings were in Chosa’s own lax mind, as he walked through the grasses and falling flowers. Chosa was unconcerned; instead, he expressed his preference without hesitation, “…It even surpasses the autumn dew dripping on the lotuses.” This interpretation in common language then would have the head monk calling out Chosa for being lax and of divided mind. Chosa replies, divided mind? Not so bad.
Keizan’s verse to the 6th case of The Transmission of the Light is frequently quoted for its concise expression of this point.
Though we find clear waters raging to the vast blue sky in autumn;
How can it compare with the hazy moon on a spring night?
Most people want to have it pure white,
But sweep as you will, you cannot empty the mind.(Aitken – Yamada translation)
Thanks for your words, Keizan. Sweep away this week, as Chosa. Sweep away ideas of emptying the mind, clear waters, and hazy moons. Give yourself over to intimate engagement without identifying anything as such, and without measuring the depth of it. Breath breathes, backs ache, and sounds reach ears. Walk in the mountains right here.
Sweep as I will, pine needles fall on the steps to my house. Floss as I will, and plaque forms on teeth. If one is sweeping and flossing to be done with the project, there is no satisfaction. But life is not improved by resigning from both activities. Just as life would not be improved by reading that you can’t empty the mind, and so packing up and leaving sesshin. The alternative is the hazy moon as one movement – pine needles floating down on the breeze, and arms and broom roaming down the stairs, sweeping.
Sometimes we do want a pure white moon on a clear night. Who doesn’t love a full moon in an empty sky? And, who doesn’t love to be awed by this sky – moon and no moon, clouds and no clouds. During a recent visit, I commented on the blue band aid on the unblemished skin of my grandson’s leg. He proudly showed me that there was a green one too. Blue and green band aids were not flaws or covering flaws; they were part of one day in the life of a three-year-old.
In sitting today, is it a flaw to have a mind not empty? To answer we’d need to determine what is a flaw, in a mind, in a meditation period. No determination is needed to rest in this mind, and this meditation period.
There is no test of any kind on this sesshin day. Take in the fragrance that led you here this morning. Does it add any contradiction to speak about roaming while engaged in each sound, scent, and sight? We may imagine a conflict through the words, but I’m not concerned about the words. How about in heart and mind, the heart-mind? It is enough to wander with open arms and open eyes. Wander now, in these mountains here, open and engaged.
The congregation leader said, “How very much like the sense of spring.”
Chosha said, “It even surpasses the autumn dew dripping on the lotuses.”
On this Hakuin commented:
How peaceful and pleasant it must be!” It even surpasses the autumn dew—It even surpasses the desolate scenery of autumn, this without any odor of Buddhism
(Secrets of the Blue Cliff Record; Zen Comments by Hakuin and Tenkei. Translated by Thomas Cleary)
We encompass the whole as we live and walk this world. Of course, near the winter’s end we crave the longer days of sun. Such craving doesn’t have to prevent us from now noticing that the drizzle on damp earth has a fragrance too, trees speak out with color, the grass lays in patterns of its own in patches here and there – and here and there, the wish for light.
Prefer what we may, we can welcome all without bounds, no matter the season of the year, of the day, or of our sesshin. Freedom is in roaming right here. Here,