- Have changed this a good bit - Zen scholars might not even recognise it! I don't mean no disrespect - trying to adapt to my own observations and bias. Didn't zen people themselves say to kill Buddha if he stood on the path to enlightenment? So, in the spirit of iconoclasm that is the spirit of zen... -
Poor in body, but not in the Tao.
In their poverty, they always wear ragged clothing,
But they have the jewel of no price treasured within.
The best student goes directly to the ultimate,
The others are very learned but their faith is uncertain.
Remove the dirty garments from your own mind;
Why should you show off your outward striving?
Speaking or silent, active or quiet, the essence is at peace.
Even facing the sword of death, our mind is unmoved;
Even drinking poison, our mind is quiet.
I have entered the deep mountains to silence and beauty;
In a profound valley beneath high cliffs,
I sit under the old pine trees.
It's peaceful, lonely, and truly comfortable.
When you truly awaken,
You have no official merit.
In the superficiality of the civilised world,
You cannot find such freedom.
Self-centered merit brings the joy of heaven itself,
But it is like shooting an arrow at the sky;
When the force is exhausted, it falls to the earth,
And then everything goes wrong.
The awakened one does not seek truth-
Does not cut off delusion.
Truth and delusion are both vacant and without form,
But this no-form is neither empty nor not empty;
To live in nothingness is to ignore cause and effect;
This chaos leads only to disaster.
The one who clings to vacancy, rejecting the world of things,
Escapes from drowning but leaps into fire.
Holding truth and rejecting delusion-
These are but skillful lies....
Awake ones roar with thunder-spirit;
They strike the drum;
They spread clouds of love,
and pour ambrosial rain.
Their giant footsteps nourish limitless beings;
all are enlightened;
all are free...
All categories are no category;
What relation have have these to my insight?
Beyond praise, beyond blame, -
Like space itself it has no bounds.
Right here it is eternally full and serene,
If you search elsewhere, you cannot see it.
You cannot grasp it, you cannot reject it;
In the midst of not gaining,
In that condition you gain it.
It speaks in silence,
In speech you hear its silence.
The great way has opened and there are no obstacles.
Ah, the degenerate materialistic world!
People are unhappy; they find self-control difficult.
Demons are strong,
False views are deep,
Disturbances are many.
the life-force is weak...
People hear the wild's immediacy,
And if they accept it, the demons will be crushed
As easily as a roofing tile.
But they cannot accept, what a pity!
Your mind is the source of action;
Your body is the agent of calamity;
No pity nor blame to anyone else.
In the sandalwood forest, there is no other tree.
Only the lion lives in such deep luxuriant woods,
Wandering freely in a state of peace.
Other animals and birds stay far away.
Just baby lions follow the parent,
And three-year-olds already roar loudly.
How can the jackal pursue the spirit of the wild
Even with a hundred-thousand demonic arts?
The wild's directness
Is not solely a matter of _human_ emotion.
If you doubt this or feel uncertain,
Then you must discuss it
with the other beings you live with...
Being is not being; non-being is not non-being;
Miss this rule by a hair,
And you are off by a thousand miles.
Misunderstanding it, the greatest scholar falls into hell.
From my youth I piled studies upon studies,
In books and documents I searched and researched,
Classifying terms and forms, oblivious to fatigue.
I entered the sea to count the sands in vain
And then experience scolded me kindly
As I read "What profit in counting your neighbor's treasure?"
My work had been scattered and entirely useless,
For years I was dust blown by the wind.
If the seed-nature is wrong, misunderstandings arise,
And the wild's immediacy cannot be experienced.
Students may study earnestly
But they lack inspiration.
Others may be very clever,
But they lack feeling.
Stupid ones, childish ones,
They suppose there is something in an empty fist.
They mistake the pointing finger for the moon.
They are idle dreamers lost in form and sensation.
The hungry are served a king's repast,
And they cannot eat.
The sick meet the king of doctors;
Why don't they recover?
The wild in this greedy world -
This is the power of wise vision.
The lotus lives in the midst of the fire;
It is never destroyed.
Ten thousand pieces of gold are not sufficient;
Though you break your body
And your bones become powder,
This is not enough for repayment.
Nothing can substitute your self-nature,
Your wildness.
Cherish this above all the comforts of docility.
The fattening calf soon goes to the slaughterhouse,
The pampered dog never hears the wolf's cry,
Only those who forsake false comforts and seek the raw,
Will journey beyond
Their furtherest thoughts,
Their greatest imaginings...
This is my song.
Hear it!
Then find your own voice...