Classes on excerpts from Eihei Kōroku, so for the few people who are new I'll just say a couple words. This is writing by Zen Master Dogen who founded Soto-sen in Japan, who lived in the 13th century. And this particular collection of writings is from his last writings, and they're from – at least part of them are from short Dharma talks that he gave to his monks at Eheiji. And it's – for those of you who know Shobo Gento, this was written later than that, almost – well, most of Shobo Gento was written before this. So this is kind of his final period of teaching, and he was training his monks who were at Eheiji. And these are short talks, most of them – although actually the one that we're working on today is very, very, very long, a few of them are long, but most of them are short. It was in the Dharma hall with him sitting up on the high seat, like the mountain seat

[01:01]

on the altar, and with the monks standing. So it's kind of a very formal situation. So we've gone over a number of these, and I don't know how many we'll do tonight. We – but I thought we'd start – I mentioned number 203 and said we'd start on this this week, but I actually want to start on another one first that's a little bit shorter, number 210, which is right after that. And a lot of these, and the ones we've been talking about, he stresses the everyday practices in the monastery, the importance of the everyday activity and how the Dharma expresses itself and the ultimate truth of the Dharma is present right in everyday ordinary activity, which might say isn't so ordinary in the monastery from the point of view of the world, but still

[02:01]

it's just kind of day-to-day material following the schedule. Anyway, this one that I wanted to look at first kind of relates to the one we talked about last week, so I wanted to start with this, because we talked about prediction last week, prediction of future Buddhahood and how the one we talked about last week, he emphasizes not waiting to become a Buddha in the future, forget about that. This is called, this is number 210, it's called the Virtue of Unwashable Bowls, so I'll just read it. Dogen said, last night all the Buddhas of the three times fell into the dwelling of Ehe and they all brought rice and put it in the storehouse. Tenzo took the rice, made gruel and brought it to the monks hall. Brothers, have you eaten the gruel or not? Then Dogen said, we have eaten the gruel, we have eaten the gruel. Having eaten the gruel, have you washed your bowls? We haven't yet washed our bowls.

[03:03]

Why haven't they been washed yet? So one thing about this is, in a lot of these he'll give a koan, an old teaching story, and then he'll answer, or he'll say what he would say if he had been in that story. And then sometimes he'll ask the monks a question and then often there'll be a pause and then he'll answer for them. So in this last section he's kind of asking questions, he's speaking for the monks and then asking them questions and speaking again. So he says, we have eaten the gruel. Then he says, having eaten the gruel, have you washed your bowls? We haven't yet washed our bowls. Why haven't they been washed yet? After a pause, Dogen said, not having washed the bowls because they have no bottoms is better than receiving a prediction from Gotama. So probably most of you know in the formal meditation practice that we do now in practice period or in Sashin, which they did in the monks' hall, all the food is eaten with

[04:06]

oyogi bowls, with bowls that are served by other monks, and then you wash the bowls at the end of the meal and wrap them up and put them back behind your seat. So he says, not having washed the bowls because they have no bottoms is better than receiving a prediction from Gotama, which means a prediction, a kind of prediction of future Buddhahood that the Buddha gave in the Lotus Sutra and some other sutras. So questions, comments, discussion? Anybody have any ideas about what he meant by not having washed the bowls because they have no bottoms is better than receiving a prediction from Gotama? Well, I have an idea. Oh, good. Maybe it's, I thought at first he meant realizing emptiness is better than receiving a prediction

[05:07]

and realizing a bowl is not, a bowl is not a bowl, so now I wouldn't have a bottom. Okay. If you lose the spirit of repetition, your practice will become very difficult. Can you say that again? If you lose the spirit of repetition, your practice will become very difficult. If you lose the spirit of repetition, your practice will become very difficult. So how does he show the spirit of repetition here? The activity of washing one's bowl is bottomless. The activity of waking up in the morning and brushing your teeth to go to the Zen dojo is bottomless. It's very, you know, we're doing the same thing day in and day out, and it's very easy to fall into ruts of routine and forget the fact that we have actually never washed this bowl

[06:10]

before. Some other bowl maybe in the past, but the past doesn't exist. So the simple activity that we're doing has no bottom to it. If we have beginner's mind, if we keep the spirit of repetition in mind. Okay. There's also the image of, they talk about, there's an old Zen phrase, the bottom of the bucket falling out. Maybe you've heard that? What does that mean? Okay. That's one way that Doge talks about it. Yeah. So I remember once Ed Brown talking about how he had pain in his eyes and until he realized that he wasn't sitting on anything. So these bowls have no bottoms.

[07:16]

It also has to do with, you know, the idea of bottomless, kind of endless food. There's this thing in the beginning, all the Buddhism three times fell into this temple of Eiheiji and brought rice, put it in the storehouse. And how would you? There's also this idea that Doge talks about sometimes, it goes back to the old sutras of the Buddha, the historical Buddha Shakyamuni died at age 85.

[08:21]

And some of the old sutras say that he was actually had a hundred years allocated to his life and he died early to give some of that life to his descendants. That we have guaranteed a lot of food that we don't have to worry about. So last night, all the Buddhas of the three times fell into the dwelling of Eiheiji and they all brought rice. There's a few places where Dogen kind of talks about, some of them are pretty wild, and maybe if we have time, I'll read you a couple, where he kind of has these sort of dreams that he tells about things that happened last night. Some of them are pretty wild. We kind of, you know, makes up some story or maybe he actually dreamed these things. Anyway, so he doesn't say this was a dream or that he was, or that, you know, you don't

[09:29]

even, you know, probably doesn't mean it literally, but there's a way in which, it's kind of like the Sermon on the Mount, you know, where Jesus says that, you know, the lilies of the field don't worry about the food and so forth. How does that go, Mel? Do you remember the phrase? Long and I can't remember it all, the sequence will be all mixed up. Oh, does anybody, can anybody quote it? I mean, you know, consider the lilies of the field, they toil and not get a spin, yet Solomon and Oscar and there's another quote that defines these, you know, don't worry for the tomorrow, tomorrow will be sufficient. Right. Yeah, and there's a way in which this is referring to a Buddhist version of that. So, he's part of, you know, he's not saying this directly, but, you know, don't worry, the Buddhists, you know, last night the Buddhists came and gave us plenty of rice. It's a little bit like that, I think. Maybe he's referring more to the loaves than the fishes.

[10:31]

That too. Well, you're reading Crooked Cucumber, it talks about how, I guess, after the war, a lot of Zen priests were getting day jobs, so to speak, and Suzuki Roshi refused to, you know, his teacher taught him that, you know, take care, if you give your life to the Dharma, the Dharma will take care of you. He chose to practice that way, and he did. At least until he died. Yeah. So, yes, there's that idea here. So this, but that also has to do with the bottomless bucket, you know, if you imagine a, you know, I don't know, I remember seeing, there was an old twilight zone or something anyways, if you imagine this bowl filled with rice and there's no bottom to it, you know, it's kind of that feeling. You have to finish before seconds go in. Or there's endless seconds. But why does he say not having washed the bowls because they have no bottoms is better

[11:37]

than receiving a prediction from Bhutan? So we talked about prediction last time, about this idea of becoming a Buddha in the future, in some future Buddha field. Well, I still feel like I said before, it has to do with beginner's mind. Better than being predicted Buddha is to always keep your beginner's mind. In fact, it's pure in its fundamental sense. It's much, much better than any kind of accomplishment. Which seems to be talking about being present. What you're saying just seems to be saying being in the moment, whereas having a prediction sort of sends you to the future. So again, it's like I said before, just focusing on taking care of the practice right in front of us. Anyway, I don't, I just wanted to look at that a little bit since it sort of alluded

[12:42]

to it last time. I don't have so much more to say about it. Does anybody else have something? Henry? Well, just the concept of bottomless is no completion. There's no completion. So as your activity of the dharma, which is the rice eating the dharma, there's no completion to it. There's no end to it. Right. No, that's what I'm saying. Yeah, there's no completion. Maybe you could say it. Maybe it's all completion, but at least it's endless. Yeah, okay. Whatever, you know. Right, it's not the same images really. You don't finish doing the practice and then stop, you know, it's like... Right, I mean, you're right. And there's more rice to practice with. Right. So I don't, you know, we could talk about rice as a metaphor in various other ways for the experience of practice and so forth, and I don't want to get... You know, there's a level on which Dogen is talking metaphorically in a lot of these,

[13:45]

but he's also talking about something that's kind of immediate while you're in part of the everyday activity of the monks too. As I've said before in this class, I have, in some ways, each of these we could spend a lot of time with, and in some ways I want to, you know, share a lot of them with you. So I'm ready to move to go to the next one, but does anybody else want to say anything about 210 before we... Okay, I want to look at 203, and this one's a lot more, in some ways, more difficult or more complicated. And it starts with a long quote from Hongzhe, and I mentioned he was... There's a book of translations that I did called Cultivating the Empty Field, which is from Hongzhe, who was in the Soto lineage in China about a century before Dogen. He was one of the most important people in that lineage in the period before Dogen, and Dogen quotes him a lot in Ehikoroku, so I wanted to give you one example. Can I ask a quick question? Sure.

[14:45]

This Hongzhe, is he the same person referred to in the Book of Serenity? He is also the person who picked the cases and wrote the verses for the Book of Serenity, which some of you have studied with Greg. And is he Dogen's teacher? No. He's maybe four generations before, and actually, Dogen's teacher, Chiantong Rujing, is descended from one of Hongzhe's Dharma brothers, so he's kind of like a great, great uncle. Great, great, great, great uncle. But he was the abbot formerly of Chiantong, which is the monastery where Dogen trained with his teacher, who's called Chiantong Rujing. So he was a former abbot of that same monastery where Dogen met his teacher and awakened, in China. And did the visit to China that Rev did go to Chiantong? No, but Eleanor and I went to Chiantong. Oh, how was it? It's beautiful. It's thriving also, and it's very large.

[15:48]

It was the largest monastery we saw. I think the Japanese, partly because of Dogen, have put a lot of money into reviving it. I think they did, yeah. Yeah. So that monastery is still there, and that's where Dogen trained, and that's where Hongzhe was the abbot. He died in 1157. Dogen was born in 1200, died in 1253. Anyway, so in a lot of these little talks in Heikoroku, he quotes Hongzhe, and this is an example of that, just as he sometimes quotes a koan and then comments on it. So, when the ancient Buddha Hongzhe, abbot of Chiantong, was giving a Dharma discourse, a monk asked, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? So a little bit about this form. So this form of these Dharma discourses, or Jodo in Japanese, which is what most of Heikoroku is, are these, again, these formal talks. There are places where it says, after a pause, Dogen said, and sometimes, we don't know, but the scholars think that sometimes there were some discussion. There may have been some discussion with the monks.

[16:48]

It's very few places, but a few places where that's recorded. Mostly, they just recorded in Heikoroku, what Dogen had to say. But in some of the older Chinese Zen masters, Jodos, or Dharma discourses, they do have these kind of dialogues. So this was in part of a Dharma discourse that Hongzhe was giving, and there was this dialogue with this monk. And the monk asked, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? Hongzhe said, each drop of water freezes as it drops. The monk said, the clear light is cold, illuminating the eye. With fields all in white, the house can't be found. Hongzhe said, the white ox outside the house, where is it gone? That's a reference to, well, there's two references there. There's the idea of the training, the ox-herding pictures. Maybe some of you heard about this. Ten ox-herding pictures, which show stages of practice. And some of those series of pictures, the ox starts all black, and then, through the

[17:55]

course of the pictures, turns to white. And that represents the training and purification of the ox. And the ox is an image of the trainee. There's also the white ox cart, though, which is outside the house. And I think that's more of what's being referred to here. And that's from the Lotus Sutra, where the story about skillful means. A man comes home and finds his house burning. And his children are playing inside. And they have all these toys. And meanwhile, inside the house, there's scorpions and snakes and all these dangerous things. And the house is in flames. And the man says, come out of the house. It's burning. And the kids say, no, we're playing. And we don't want to come out. We're having fun. And the man says, finally decides, OK, well, listen. There's all these wonderful carts out here. You know, I've got Buicks and Porsches and BMWs and all these wonderful vehicles out here. And finally, the kids come out. And then there's only one vehicle, the ox cart. And this represents the one vehicle that includes all of the spiritual teachings.

[18:59]

So that image is kind of part of this question that Hongxue is asking. The white ox cart outside the house, where has it gone? What is the image exactly? Well, I've never understood that story. OK, good, good. The image is that there are many vehicles. So this idea in the Lotus Sutra of one vehicle, that there are many different teachings. So like there's the Theravada teaching and the Mahayana teaching and various Mahayana teachings. And I think in terms of what it really means is we can think about all the different spiritual traditions. But the idea is in Buddhism, or in Mahayana, that basically all of the different kinds of practices, all different kinds of teachings, all the different kinds of scriptures are understood as useful for particular kinds of beings, for particular situations of suffering. And they're all part of the one vehicle, which is represented in that Lotus Sutra by an ox cart, a white ox cart, that includes all of them.

[20:04]

And it's big enough for everyone to fit. And the basic idea is that all of the teachings that help beings to enter into the path of awakening are part of that one vehicle. So those are the B.O.X.P. of divers and foragers that you mentioned? Yeah, yeah. Actually, in the Sutra, it doesn't say that. It says goat carts and sheep carts, and I forget what other animal kinds. So what's the burning house? Not to mention the scorpions. Some sorrow, this world, suffering, all of your delusions and greed and anger and all that stuff, and everybody else's too. So we live in this world of suffering, and how do we get out of the burning house? That's the basic image of the story. And then the idea that there's this one vehicle that includes all of them, but that all of the different kinds of teachings are seen as useful and appropriate and helpful and part of the path of awakening.

[21:07]

That's just the background for this statement. In some of these, there's these references. So he's saying, the white ox cart outside the house, where is it gone? So the monk said, the house can't be found. Hongzhe says, the white ox cart outside the house, where is it gone? So this is the way to salvation, the way to the Eightfold Path, the way of practice, is represented by the white ox cart. Where is it gone? The monk said, it remains. Hongzhe said, this is also horns growing on the head. So horns growing on the heads, you know, a lot of these images, part of how these kind of sayings work is that some of these images have double meaning, more than double, have various layers of meaning. So on one level, horns is kind of like a beast, you know, it's kind of like it shows becoming an animal, you know, losing your humanity or practice.

[22:12]

It also refers to demons, so they didn't have the devil or Lucifer in East Asia, but there were little demons with horns on their heads, part of popular spirit lore. So it can refer to that, sometimes it's used ironically in a positive way though. Here Hongzhe says, this is also horns growing on the head. The monk said, in the end, where is it gone? Hongzhe said, when the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white. That's interesting. So let me just read this dialogue first, before we go to Dogen's comment. So again, the monk asks, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? Hongzhe said, each drop of water freezes as it drops. The monk said, the clear light is cold, illuminating the eye. With fields all in white, the house can't be found. Hongzhe said, the white ox cart outside the house, where has it gone?

[23:18]

The monk said, it remains. Hongzhe says, this is also horns growing on the head. The monk said, in the end, where is it gone? When the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white. So then Dogen says, if someone were to ask Ehe, that means himself. So Ehe is the name of the temple where he's at, Eheji, but these teachers use the name of their temple as their own name. So it's the same as saying, if someone were to ask me, if someone were to ask Ehe, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? I would say to him, there is nothing other than this color. To the question, the white ox outside the house, where has it gone? I would say, both nostrils are pierced. To in the end, where has it gone? I would say to him, day and night in harmony, sun and moon equally bright. The empty sky ages and the eyebrows are white. So in this case, he seems to give different answers than Hongzhe.

[24:25]

Sometimes, as I said, I think in one of the other classes, sometimes when he gives different answers than the teacher in the case, he's clearly being critical of the teacher. Sometimes he says specifically that what the teacher said is good, but I would also say it this way. Sometimes he doesn't really say, so in this one, you know, he's kind of giving a different kind of answer. I don't know that he's, I don't think he's necessarily saying that Hongzhe was wrong. But what's going on here? This is a pretty complicated story, actually, and there's a lot of images in here. And so I think we could spend a little bit of time looking at what's going on. So, we could start anywhere with it. How is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? What's that a question about? What is the monk asking? Any thoughts? To me, I want to just take one step back.

[25:29]

Sure. Just reading it or listening to when you read it, I see how my mind is trying to grasp different things, to understand things, and it's always a dead end road. And after reading, you know, the whole paragraph, I feel like my mind gets in a different state. I feel like it's like my brain turns into spaghetti or something. Everything is different, and I have no idea what they're talking about at the beginning. Good. Yeah, this is a really hard one. I mean, you know, there are a lot of them that are much clearer and simpler than this. I don't understand this one either, but we'll talk about it. It's like martial art or something. You know, it might help if we actually, why don't you be Hongzhe? Who would like to be the monk? I'll be a monk. Okay, why don't you two do the first dialogue? Starts with the monk. The monk asks?

[26:30]

You can just say what's in the quotes. Okay. How is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? Each drop of water freezes as it drops. The clear light is cold, illuminating the eye. With fields all in white, the house can't be found. The white ox outside the house, where has it gone? It remains. This is also horns growing on the head. In the end, where has it gone? When the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionable, not white. Good. So, this is a dialogue about practice and what is the process of practice. How does it work? What happens? Well, actually, I have an interpretation. I mean, it just kind of popped into my head.

[27:32]

How is it that snow covers a thousand? What he's talking about is the transforming, like you have mountains and houses and carts and it's all right there, and then something covers everything. And all of a sudden, the things that are there are no longer seen, and yet they are actually there. So, how is it that this is happening? I have no idea. I would love to know. And then he goes on to say, this is also horns growing on the head. I don't know what that means. I have no idea what that means. And then it says, when the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is questionably not white. In other words, once the transition comes up, it is no longer hidden. It goes above that covering that covers everything. Very good. So, some of you know there's something that we chant. It's called the Harmony of Difference and Sameness, or the Sandokai, and it talks about light and dark. And you could say it talks about emptiness and phenomena, or the universal and the particular.

[28:42]

And I think you're right, Henry. By the way, I've said this before in this class, anything anybody says about any of these stories, maybe there's some exceptions, but anything that people say that comes from some sense of you have when you're reading it is part of what's going on, at least. At least it's coherent. When I first read this, I said, this is impossible. Well, okay, snow covering a thousand peaks, I think you're right. It's actually the opposite, though, of light and dark, because he's also playing with white, okay, and becoming white. And in the Oxford pictures, right, the transformation is from black, and then it's kind of part black and part white, and it becomes white at the end, and that's an image of purity. Although white in Chinese and Japanese also means death, but I don't think that's the main thing here. But the snow covering a thousand peaks, then everything is the same. This is talking about sameness. So yeah. So yeah, that's kind of, everything's the same.

[29:46]

So in everything being the same, how can you see this vehicle that is transforming, which is the ox? Good. That's where it goes. And even the clear light is called illuminating the eye. The way I felt with that is kind of, and this is more like experiential thing, but like when you're standing outside in the cold and the breeze, as it's so piercing, it's awakening. It's like you feel like you're right there and present with things, because it's so jarring. This clear light in this desolate place is illuminating your eyes. So with fields covered with everything, how can the house be found, the house of samsara? How can you see that everything's covering you? And the white ox, which is taking you out of this house, where has it gone? Because if everything's, everything's white, you know, it's like, but Norm was saying the other week, you know, when he was talking about, when he was talking about emptiness, he's like, you know, if everything's whole and everything's whole, it can't see it's different parts. If everything's white and you can't see, which is taking you out of white, where's samsara, where's nirvana? And then he goes on, but it remains, the ox remains.

[30:49]

So everything isn't white. So, and then this is, see when he said, this is also horns growing on the head, I thought he meant this is silly. Like, that's kind of what I thought about that. I wouldn't say silly, but I would say, I would say, well, let's go, let's go back. We're a little ahead of the thing. I want to go back to the first book, right? Yeah, I think what you say is definitely in the right track here. He's talking about emptiness in the first, the first, the monk is asking about emptiness. How is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? So, I think I said this before that, that, you know, in Indian and Tibetan Buddhism, they talk in this very philosophical way. In East Asia, particularly in Chan and Zen, it's kind of poetry, you know, they don't try and analyze it in terms of philosophical categories. It's just these images, this, these, these pictures, these, this poetry to try and talk about this experience of realizing emptiness and realizing form as well.

[31:54]

So, in this, the question the monk is asking, when you see, when you realize emptiness, when snow covers everything, all the thousand, all the thousand peaks could be an image of the phenomena, the particulars of, they sometimes talk, talk of, Hongzhe Endo can talk about 10,000 grass tips as an image of all of the different forms, all of the different things, all the different particular beings and people and forms. So, form is eliminated. There's just emptiness. There's just white snow everywhere. You can't see anything. How is that? So, before we go further, though, what about this response of Hongzhe, each drop of water freezes as it drops? I heard that, I thought about watching the mind. It varies. Each thought that arises in the mind freezes as it arises. In other words, it just arises and disappears into emptiness. Each feeling, each emotion, each sensation just arises and goes away and it doesn't perpetuate itself.

[32:55]

You're still with it. It all becomes snow. It becomes part of the, it just becomes part of... Not generating karma, but it just comes and goes. Good. So, this is like think not thinking. There's a way in which this is a meditation instruction, too. So, I think it takes a little kind of translation to understand what they're talking about. Does everybody follow what we said so far about form and emptiness? I want to make sure we, just this first part, this first question, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? And even the thought of movement, as the water is moving, it's frozen. It becomes everything else. It becomes this white blanket. So, like the movement that would disturb this white blanket, which would awaken you to kind of the inner workings of it, is kind of frozen back into it, or kind of framed back into that. Yeah. And there's an additional image of it bit by bit. Yeah.

[33:55]

It's not a huge... Drop by drop. Drop by drop. It's just incessant. Yeah. I like what you said about, Rick, about it's like thoughts that come up, you know. Each experience, each phenomena, each perception, drop by drop, freezes right as it drops, as it appears. It's usually we think of thoughts arising, you know, but this is, they're just falling. There are more chairs. Come on in. Could you pass one of the... So, we're on page seven, number 203. So, but the image, you know, part of what makes these stories intriguing, to me anyway, is the way the images work, you know. It's using these natural images. Each drop of water freezes as it drops. It's kind of dramatic, you know.

[34:56]

And the monk's response is, the clear light is cold, illuminating the eye. So, I think, as you said, it's kind of this darkness. It's this, you know, bracing. The field's all in white. The house can't be found. So, when everything is empty, there's no house of suffering. There's no particular things. So, in a way, this is a story. And Hongzhi and Dogen's contrasting responses are about how we practice with emptiness. That monk's line, the clear light is cold, etc. It reminds me of a case in Buddhist serenity, where a teacher asked a student to turn the light around and look at the experiencer. And he says, when I get here, I can't find anything at all. Page 37, yeah. Two. Oh, yeah, 32. Yeah, that's right. I can't remember the people. It's Yangshan and the person from Yu Province. Yeah, so it is like that.

[36:05]

When you realize snow covering a thousand peaks, this is kind of seeing the emptiness of things. You're not caught in phenomena anymore. You see that everything is basically the same and empty. This is, there is this level of truth. But it's not the whole story. So the monk is kind of exact, is coming from a similar place anyway to that monk in case 32 who says to Yangshan, when I get to this place, there's not a single thing at all. There's no houses to be found. So then, yeah. I was also wondering about the house can't be found. It reminds me of leaving home, especially with emptiness. Very good. Very good, yes. So that kind of realization of emptiness, that kind of visceral, and they're talking

[37:07]

about it in these images, but the way they're talking, you can see how they really, how it's not some idea, but it's actually they're expressing it in terms of these kind of vivid images. It's kind of what their experience is. And it is about leaving home too. The house can't be found, so there's no, one's previous identity is not obliterated because one can't ignore cause and effect, but it's kind of, you can't find it, it's just all, everything is white. So this is a particular experience that happens sometimes to Zen practitioners. It's sometimes called Zen sickness. So Hongshu says, this is very, this is not just a meaningless question. The white ox outside the house, where is it gone? How, where is the techniques to help people? There's a lot. Where's practice?

[38:07]

Where is saving all beings? Where is helping beings? Where is this path to enter to Buddhahood? Where is it gone? That's implied by that question. That's what he's asking about. If everything is white, then where does the white ox go? You can't see that either. You're stuck in emptiness. And the monk said it remains. Why does Hongshu say, this answer is also horns going on the head? Because it doesn't really remain. What do you mean? Well, that's an illusion. In other words, he's saying that that's an illusion. So he says, and that's why the monk says, well, in the end, where has that gone also then? So in other words, you know, the house can't be found. He says, okay, if the house can't be found, where's the ox cart? Well, it remains. I think the implication is actually you can see it. It, and he says, no, no, no, not really.

[39:10]

Which I'm changing my initial interpretation. That's okay. Well, that's part of how these things work, is that you, that they're, you know, you can take it, you can take it at face value, you can see the other side of it. You know, and the point of these kinds of stories, I think, and the point of Dogen talking about them and the point of our studying them is that they show us something about our practice. And they give us a kind of tool to turn and look at different aspects of how our practice works and what it's about. So I think seeing it from different angles and taking it straight, taking it kind of from, straightforwardly from, you know, kind of straight interpretation, or taking it from the other side, it's part of working with it. You know, in Dokusad once, Norman once told me that, actually, there is no path, there's just life. I kind of think this could be talking about what he was trying to get across. If we take snow covering a thousand peaks as a metaphor for practice,

[40:20]

last line, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white when the self is transformed from the bottom. So the question, practice remains, is extra. It's horns growing on the head, so where is it going? Okay. You kind of follow that kind of meandering thing. I'd see it the other way around, but that's okay. I didn't follow that. Well, let's look at what else is going on here and we'll come back to that. I have a question. Sure, Eleanor. He's saying, this is also horns growing on the head. He's referring then back to both amongst responses. Is that how I'm supposed to read that? Because he doesn't give affirmation or denial of clear light, cold, illuminating eye, etc. So both of those are states of delusion, basically, is what I'm reading there.

[41:21]

I would, I took it as, I take it as directly responding to the monk saying that the white ox carton still remains. And he's saying this is also a delusion. Is that necessarily referring to the first statement? Yeah, I didn't take it that way. Well, also, as well as, well, yeah, it could imply, maybe I should check the Chinese, but it could, the way we translated it, it could imply that both are horns growing on the head. Because he doesn't give an answer with the white ox carton. How far has it gone? That's not a response, necessarily. I mean, it's a response, but... Well, but in some ways, one might see that as sort of, okay, what you say is fine, but then what about the white ox carton? Which is a little bit like, when the monk said it remains, I'm reminded of, not case 32, but case 37,

[42:27]

where they had this, there's this discussion in one of the commentaries in the Book of Serenity about when the moon is full, where does the crescent moon go? And when there's a crescent moon, where does the full moon go? Talking about the same issue of wholeness and incompleteness. And one of them says, when there's a crescent moon, the full moon remains. And one of the monks, one of the teachers says, when there's a crescent moon, the full moon remains. Somebody else says there's no moon at all, you know, there's different answers. But this question, the white ox cart outside the house, where's it gone? It remains. But this white ox cart outside the house is the principle of our practice. This is the point of practice. This is saving beings. And the monk said it remains, and Hongshuo said this is also horns growing on the head.

[43:32]

And that's kind of, you know... I have trouble taking that totally at face value, that the idea of the path is just a delusion. I mean, he's saying that on one level. But the solitary peak, when the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white. There's something here, then, that is not emptiness. My understanding of what Norman said to me wasn't that there wasn't a path, even though he said there wasn't a path. Right. It's not that there's not a path, it's just that this is a delusion. He says, you know, life itself is a path, and there's nothing extra added to life called path that we put on top of life. We just live our life, and living our life wholeheartedly, the path naturally occurs. That's something of that nature.

[44:33]

But what about when the self is this transformed self? Why would the transformed self not be white? Well, if you hear, you know, the snow covering the white, the snow covering a thousand peaks, it's like pursuing the way. Well, I heard it once said that right now you're following the way, Suzuki Roshi said this to his students, but later you will drive the way. So if you look at the snow covering the thousand peaks, it's following the way, making an effort, trying to tame the monkey mind, trying to, you know, realize something in the practice. But then when you... But after you do that for a while, and the self is transformed from the bottom, you still do the practice. But for a place of receiving the empty sky with palms pressed together with gratitude, this is my life, this is what I do, and it's my joy to do it. So you don't have to play in the mud.

[45:39]

Okay, yes, so you just... So from what you just said, I understand in a new way why he says that the monk's statement it remains is just once more harmonious. I, you know, I want to just stop and make sure that everybody's following what we're talking about. Do you understand what this is about? And I, you know, so a few people have given really good interpretations. Do we have to raise our hands to this? No. Okay. Does anybody... Is anybody just totally lost? We're pretty lost. Okay, good. Thank you for admitting it. This is unquestionably not white. Okay, good. So this is about how do we practice with emptiness, or how do we practice with realization? And it's possible to see, in fact, you know, the case that you mentioned, case 32, or that you mentioned anyway, that is actually very relevant to this. So maybe I should say that case, a little bit about that case.

[46:51]

In the Book of Serenity, which Hongzhou also commented on, that a monk comes and Yangshun asks, where are you from? And he says, I'm from Yu Province. And he says, do you think of that place? And the monk says, I think of it all the time. He's a very honest man. And so it's all the phenomenal world, buildings and places. But when you turn back the thought to think of the mind that thinks, what is there then? And the story goes that the monk said, and he may have spent some years coming to this point, but he at some point said, when I reach that point, there's not a single thing at all. So that's like when snow covers a thousand peaks. There's no phenomena that is just form, which is empty. This is a particular kind of awareness that is a part of the Buddhist path.

[47:55]

But what Yangshun said in that story was, that's okay for the stage of faith, but not yet right for the stage of person. So this story is about that, too. This is about the stage of person. So people who get attached to non-attachment, that's considered a very serious disease in practice. And this is about that. This is about getting attached to non-attachment, and non-attachment and attachment. So when he says, outside the house, where is the ox cart? What ox cart outside the house? Where is it gone? The monk says, it remains. And I would say, this is still growing, corn is growing on the head, because it's not enough to just say it remains. Where's the monk?

[48:55]

It remains is good for the stage of faith, but not good enough for the stage of person. So this is about how we find our path in the middle of practicing, in which one sees non-attachment or sees emptiness. We have a glimpse in our zazen of everything is fine just as it is. Well, then could that be a warning, the horns growing on the head? Sure, sure. You say what the nostrils are pierced. Oh, we'll come to that. Yeah, that, no, that's something different, I think. We'll come to that. Hopefully we'll get to Dogen's response, too. So what Dogen says is really, is different from what Hongzhi says in some ways, I think. But we'll see. But I'm just, not up to that yet. It's almost going from the non-ordinary, in the end it's ordinary. Okay. And the monk is stuck in the non-ordinary view of the world. And he says, no, no, that's foolish.

[49:57]

Really what it is, it's really ordinary view. Good, yeah. So at least in the beginning, he's talking about the non-ordinary view. He's talking about snow covering a thousand peaks, all the different mountains. So there's an old zazen story, first there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is, and that's none of it. Yes. Somebody said, when they first started practicing, there were mountains and rivers, then there were no mountains and rivers, then there were mountains and rivers. So this is talking about that, too. So is it, the warning is sort of, I guess, maybe recognizing the loosery nature of the phenomenal world that you still need to live in? Right. It's not enough to just say that the white ox part remains. What is he doing about it? So when, in the end, when Hung just said, when the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white, what is it if it's not white?

[50:59]

Unquestionably not white. Well, it's not covered with snow. Okay. To me, it was unquestionably not only white. Okay. That would work for me. That's good. It's not covered up. It's distinct. You can make out its shape. It has colors, maybe including white. It has shapes. Did you say that he wrote the verses for the koans also, right? In the Book of Serenity, yes. So doesn't the verse say something about the mystic peak and something like that, the blue mountains fill my eyes? Right, right, right, right. That's another teacher, though. Is it? Does anybody have a copy of the Book of Serenity here? Does Rudd still have some hidden in there? So he's quoting another... That's not the... I don't think he's directly quoting it, but it's relevant. I mean, he's talking about the same thing. So that's actually not Hung's, but the guy who wrote the commentary quotes that other verse.

[52:05]

But it's relevant. Sounds like a paraphrase. So I'm not sure how directly this is relevant to the verse of 32, but let's check it out. It's talking about the same issue. This is just going to confuse you all, but that's good. All embracing with no outside, penetrating with no obstruction, gates and walls like cliffs. Then the key line, doors and locks redoubled. When the wine is always sweet, it lays out the guests. Though the meal is filling, it ruins the farmers. Bursting out of the clear sky, the Garuda takes wing on the wind. Treading over the blue sea, thunder follows the roaming dragon. So do you see how where this monk is at is when the wine is always sweet, it lays out the guests. So the meal is filling, it ruins the farmers. I knew that was going to make things worse.

[53:10]

What do you say when the meal is filling, it... It ruins the farmers. Right. Yeah, that makes sense. Because then there's no reason to work. That's pitching one's tent in emptiness. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It's like if you're not full, you'll keep farming. If you haven't pitched your tent, then you'll keep practicing. Or if you're doing meditation, if your zazen is filled with bliss, that's wonderful. But then you might kind of never get up and leave the zendo, and nobody would benefit from it, you know? Just yesterday, we were studying everyday activity with Mormon, and there's something about to have eaten rice is to be hungry. And one doesn't go hungry unless they've eaten rice. So it's kind of, I don't know how that... I'm not quite quoting it very well, but it seems to offer a different way of eating than the one that lays out the guests and the farmers. It's still the solitary peak.

[54:19]

But that's actually, that's different from a thousand peaks, thousands of peaks. There's one, this is the stage of person. The solitary peak is unquestionably not white. But this is the stage of person, having seen the thousand peaks covered with snow. Well, isn't the solitary peak an enlightened individual? That's also in the book of Serenity. Could be. How can two mountains meet? That's also one of the concepts. Of course, I couldn't have to know what number it is. How can two solitary peaks meet? And that's also in the book of Serenity. I have a question. Sure. Do you mind to say again what the stage of person is and the stage of faith? I think I got lost. Okay. Well, that's just one way of talking about the same thing. There's the stage of emptiness where the monk... I mean, this is a very good monk. He's actually seen snows cover a thousand peaks.

[55:22]

He's actually seen the world as just all snow, you know. This is an accomplished monk. And Hongju says, each drop of water freezes as it drops. Each event, as it falls, each cause and condition just is more snow. And the monk says, the clear light is cold, illuminating the eye. Fields all in white, the house can't be found. He's left home. He can't find any shelter. And he doesn't mind. He feels it's chilling, but kind of illuminated too. But he's asking the question. I mean, this is a very good monk. He's asking the question about it. How is this? What do I do? He's not just going off and sitting in the mountaintops and everything is white. He's actually checking it out, you know. And Hongju asks him this important question. The white ox cart outside the house, where has that gone? What about the practice? What about saving people?

[56:24]

What about saving yourself? What about the practice? And the monk says, it's still there, you know, which is good. You know, it's still there. The monk realizes it's still there. It's part of the field of white snow. And Hongju said, that's not good enough. This is still horns growing on the head. Yeah, Rev actually once said in all these dialogues, when they name the guy, he knows what's going on. If it's just called monk, he's not quite got it. Well, also what it means is just that this particular monk never became a noted master himself. But, you know, he's pretty good. He might have gotten it later on and, you know, just gone off in the mountains. And who knows what happened. Anyway, that was Rev's take on all these dialogues. If they're both named and they both have reality, and it's just different forms that they're bouncing back and forth. If the monk is unnamed, then it's somebody who's maybe close, but needs instruction. Well, some of the teachers with names need instruction too.

[57:26]

But, you know, then the other side of it is that there's this monk who's wandering around talking to all the teachers in China. You know, it's just this monk and he's in every single story. And, you know, he's pretty good. If he didn't ask those questions, all these great Zen masters would never have said anything. So... That was Ananda's gift to us too. So, you know, part of these stories is that you can see, you know, they've been remembered for a thousand years because they, you know, as you look at them, you can see different aspects and they actually show us aspects of our own practice. But when the self is transformed from the bottom, when it's thoroughly transformed, when your self is totally transformed, this solitary peak is certainly not white. It's not all one field of emptiness. There is a particular mountain. And Hongzhe, in fact, was living on Chiantung Mountain. He had his mountain. He was there teaching.

[58:28]

So there's this idea of sameness and particularity and they dance together. And we have to see both sides. So the ordinary world is just seeing all the particulars and we have to, you know, get as much stuff as we can and accumulate, you know, as many stock options and so forth as we can. And, you know, this is the world of cause and effect and of suffering. And then there's seeing that it's all kind of empty, but that's not enough. Solitary peak is actually in the glossary of... What does it say? It says this refers to nirvana, to individual liberation, to detachment, to being beyond the world. Yeah, but all of these things, all of these phrases can be used ironically, you know. And in this case, if it's not white, it's not a Pratyekabuddha. So solitary peak might be an image for somebody who's realized awakening, but is kind of not teaching, not available, not sharing it with the world,

[59:36]

not engaged in Bodhisattva practice. But if it's not white, then you can see the contours and people can come. So all of those kinds of phrases can be used on face value and then the other way. So is this starting to be somewhat coherent? Okay. It's okay. Take care. Could you say a little bit more about the Zen sickness that you mentioned? Yeah, it's very sad. Go off to the monastery and sit a lot of Zazen and feel really good, and they actually look like Buddhas. They actually kind of can, you know, you see them sitting there and wearing their fancy robes and enjoying their food and following the schedule perfectly,

[60:37]

and they really shine. It's beautiful. But if they ever leave the monastery and go down to the city, they get really confused and weird, and they just don't know what to do, and they run back to the monastery. That's one example. And there's that tale where there's this monk meditating in this woman's cottage, and after a while she sends his daughter to test him out. Her daughter, yes. And what does he say? He has this line, he goes back there. She kind of starts fondling him and, you know, coming on to him, and he says something about this old monk is kind of withered and cold. And when she goes back to her mother who's been sponsoring this monk for all those years, she, you know, the idea is that he was not being responsive to her suffering, and the mother or aunt or whatever she is, goes and burns down his hut that she supported him. He was too involved in his non... Nonattention.

[61:38]

Not being affected by, you know, lust or what have you, and he didn't seize the opportunity to help somebody. So being attached to nonattachment is considered the worst attachment, the most dangerous attachment. So being attached to usual things of the world, I mean, that's the ordinary attachment, you know. But once you've seen nonattachment, once you've experienced nonattachment, it's important not to get attached to that. And it's tempting, you know, because the world really hurts. And there are lots of suffering people within us and without. And so, you know, it's very tempting to go off to a mountaintop and just hang out in the snow. And I didn't mean to say that everybody who's in the monastery is doing this. I'm just saying it's possible. And you could be living in the city and do that too. But to get caught in some idea of, you know, this was actually a problem that Doge had.

[62:41]

That there was this idea that if you see Buddha nature, in Dogen's time, and actually amongst, I talked about his students. We talked about the Darumashu, one of the early Dharma discourses, I talked about his particular students who were from this early kind of pre-Zen school in Japan and had this idea of, if you see Buddha nature, you don't need to practice it. And when America, and this is kind of a possibility all the time. When Zen first came to America, there was this thing called Beat Zen. And Beat Zen. And people used to think, well, you know, whatever, man, it's cool. And just go with the flow and nothing matters. And so there was this kind of idea if you have this, you know, if you have this kind of peak experience, then everything is groovy and you don't need to worry about taking care of anything or attending to your practice. So these are all examples of this kind of attachment to snow covering a thousand peaks.

[63:48]

And what this is about is that the solitary peak is not just white. So the stage of person is about taking responsibility for how are you going to, what are you going to do with the white ox cart? The monk saying that the house was not to be found. Is that way I interpret that is that the monk was enlightened and no longer could find Samsara, actually, that was the house. So and that was Samsara was home prior. Right. So now after there's a question as to how to live anymore.

[64:55]

Right. But that's, I'm sorry, I didn't. That's that's I just I'm just saying that that the place that that monk is in then is in the question of where from here. The fact that he's asking these questions, you know, shows that he's not totally settled into, you know, kind of just snow everywhere. He's still questioning. But you said that he's that he's left, I forget how you said it, but he's left Samsara, he's left the house and he's he said he was enlightened. Well, yeah, that word means a lot of different things, depending on context, but he was enlightened as opposed to being diluted and which is not real enlightenment. So he wasn't he was not willing to be diluted. And so he was you could say he was stuck in enlightenment, which is another way of

[65:56]

talking about being stuck in an attachment. And that's not really enlightenment in the Buddhist path. But I think going back to this idea of sameness and difference, I think is helpful. You know that when when when the self is transformed from the bottom, the solitary peak is unquestionably willing to be different. You know, read it that way. It's not stuck in stuck in sameness. Willing to engage in the differences, willing to engage and willing to go back into Samsara. To see that there's both a mountain and not a mountain. There's both a mountain and not a mountain, but it's it's there. It's not there. But then there's still this white this white ox carton. How are you going to drive it or ride in it or? How are you going to practice? So that's the story of Hongzhi and the monk that Dogen reads.

[66:59]

Tell me what the white ox carton is again. The white ox carton is the single great vehicle to carry all beings into the path towards entering into Buddhahood, which means that they are also carrying other helping other beings to enter into Buddhahood who will then help other beings to enter into the path towards. But isn't that that there is no mountain? No, it's that there's no mountain and yet we aren't afraid of mountains. There's willingness to be in be a particular mountain. Or be in a particular mountain. But only to save people from that delusion. I mean. Right. But the truth is that there's no mountain. No, not quite. The truth is that there's no mountain and that there is a mountain. So there's this idea of the two truths.

[67:59]

You heard that? That you heard that recently? That there's this level of reality, which is the ultimate level of reality in which we all are just, you know, eyes horizontal, nose vertical. You know, we're all really the same sort of. And then there's the conventional reality, which is. Cadillacs. Who? Cadillacs. Right. Cadillacs. What else? Hamburgers. Hamburgers. What else? Lend juice. Do you remember? Ice cream. All of those things. Each of those. If not for the still point at the center, there would be no dance. And there was only the dance. If not for the fact that there are no mountains, we couldn't go for a hike and enjoy the mountains.

[69:01]

Yeah, if you think. It's not like there's. If you don't see. The mountains aren't really there. It's like their nature. They are there, but the nature is empty. Emptiness is not something that exists somewhere. Emptiness is the way forms is. So there's both realities and they're both. And they're dancing together. And this story is about, you know, how do they dance together and not getting caught in either one? And yet it's true. The water, each drop of water, as it drops, it freezes. That's true, too. But there are the drops of water. So there's. Yeah, I mean, nothing can freeze if there aren't drops of water. Each snowflake is unique. Actually, if everything were white, there would be no ox. Nothing could freeze. Everything was frozen. So both both are true. I guess I'm just one of the kids coming out of the house and I'm annoying. That's right. That's good. Thank you for doing that for us. Get over it. That's no, that's great.

[70:02]

That's wonderful. What is the deal with this white ox? Well, that's good. Keep asking that. That's great. That's that's right. Let's see what Dogen says about all this. Yeah. So he quotes this whole story about Hongzhi and it's, you know, and it's it's not an easy, you know, this is a subtle story. And I don't, you know, I wonder about how, you know, he's just saying this to the monks. I wonder how slowly he said it. He doesn't explain it, you know. I mean, I wonder how, you know, these monks were really good because look, really, I mean, the point of Heihei Koroku is that is that he this is what he this is this is what he's training those monks who, you know, really good monks who managed to keep alive the tradition of Soto Zen. And as I said, a couple, you know, one of the previous classes, Dogen's writings, which are wonderful and which many people will study and translate and all that now, you know, were basically unknown from shortly after Dogen's life till the 1920s, except for a few Soto Zen scholars and monks.

[71:02]

What made Soto Zen survive long enough so that Suzuki Roshi could inherit it was that Dogen trained these these monks at Eheiji and a number of them were really good. And they managed to, they and for the few generations after managed to spread this teaching. And now we can enjoy what Dogen said, but it was pretty much unknown for most of that time. So this is what so I keep wondering, you know, these monks that he trained who were really good and we know about a lot of them, you know, there were there are a number of them we could, you know, that we know some stuff about. And Koen Ejo was the one who was the next generation, but there were a number of others who were really good. And so, you know, I just wondered as they're standing there listening to Dogen tell the story, you know, I think they must have been he'd been lecturing them and teaching them. They must have understood some of what he some of the context of what he's talking about and how quickly they were able to follow the subtleties in this dialogue of Hongzhi, I

[72:05]

don't know. But anyway, Dogen then said, if someone were to ask me, how is it when snow covers a thousand peaks? And it's exactly the same question that the, you know, exactly the same Chinese characters that the monk asked Hongzhi. I would say to him, there is nothing other than this color. Well, that's that's pretty clear, you know, this is this kind of it's not it's not something other than each drop of water freezes as it drops, but it emphasizes that it's all just this way. So far, it's not so different from Hongzhi, I don't think. I kind of like the Hongzhi's image. The answer is a little more vivid to me. He's very cool, Dogen. That's where he says, all my life I've seen mountains covered in snow. Now I realize that snow makes the mountain. That's right. Yeah, that's relevant to this. Maybe we'll come back to that. To the question, the white ox outside the house, where has it gone?

[73:05]

So now he's taking the position of the monk. Do you see that? Before he's responding to the monk, you know, saying what he would have said instead of Hongzhi. Now he's switched. He skips over what the monk said and he says to this question of Hongzhi's, the white ox outside the house, where has it gone? I would say both nostrils are pierced. He's only dealing with questions, not answers. He answered all the questions. He questioned all the answers. Yeah. Yeah. You know, it's, it's, I mean. Say more. Blowing dust off the mirror. Okay. Thank you.

[74:14]

So this idea of nostrils pierced, I talked about, talked about this one of the other classes, I think, that this is a kind of, this is kind of a common image in some of this, not just in Dogen, but in like in the Blue Cliff Record and other Koan collections. And, you know, I used to think of it as talking about breathing, you know, when you're clearing away, clearing the nostrils so you can breathe fully. And certain, some places it seems like it is that simple. Here, clearly, he's talking about the other meaning, which I mentioned, which is the nostrils pierced because you put a ring in the nose of the ox to lead him along. So you talk, there's another place, maybe we had it where he talked about being willing to have your nostrils pierced. So again, this was before the current fashion of piercing, but this is part of the Zen, you know, piercing is part of the Zen training tradition. So both nostrils are pierced means completely willing to be trained, or maybe completely trained. Or, you know, it's an image of…

[75:18]

Q Well, it's the image of leading the ox. It's again one of the pictures. I don't know what it means, but it seems to refer to that one. A Uh-huh, right. Both nostrils are pierced. That could mean completely tamed, completely trained. It could mean just, it's completely in the process of being trained, or in the path of being trained. But it's an image of training, anyway, of the ox being led. Q Or controlling? Um, control only in the sense of being controlled enough to be, from the point of view of the student, being willing to be controlled, being willing to be led, being willing to receive the teaching. Q Or to continue to practice, perhaps? A Right, that's part of it, yeah. Yeah, so there's no end to that practice. Right. And Dogen talks about that a lot, going beyond. So then the final answer to, in the end, where is it going?

[76:20]

Q But I don't, but does that mean the white ox is outside, where is it gone? What are, so we know what nostrils being pierced, but what is the end? Maybe I didn't hear you. What's the, what is the answer to the question? Where the ox, where the ox bone is? A Both nostrils are pierced. Q Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I read that. A Um, it's completely, um, I, I, I don't want to pin it down, you know. But it's an image of, you know, of being on the path. Being on, maybe even being, not just, not just being on the cart, but leading the cart, maybe. Now it doesn't say literally cart, it says white ox in the text itself, but I added, we added cart in the first one, because clearly it's talking, it's referring to the white cart, the ox cart outside the house. Q Doesn't the answer kind of present the ox to you?

[77:23]

A Sure. Q You know, you're asking where has it gone? Both nostrils are pierced. That's a very vivid, painful, bleeding, present image. A I haven't, actually I've never been, I've never had any piercings. I don't know how painful it is. Anybody have any? Q We could try it now. Q One could just imagine though. A Well, piercing ears is a little painful. Q Oh, I would imagine your nose is much more sensitive. A I think it's pretty much without nerves, but you still feel it. Q Well, there are these practice traditions where they pierce all kinds of body parts, and that's, you know. Anyway, Ruben. Q Well, actually, what he's saying, what's the state of your practice? And then the answer is? A Yeah, where is the, so where is the path?

[78:24]

You know, the white ox outside the house, where has it gone? Where is the point, where is the practice? Where is the point of practice? Both nostrils are pierced. And in a way he's saying, you know, by asking that, okay, this is more than I should say, but by asking that question, this is, this represents both nostrils are pierced. The monk is asking the question. But to, in the end, where has it gone? Now he's going back to what he would say instead of Hongzhe. Okay, he skips parts of that dialogue. Oh, no, yeah, the monk says, in the end, where has it gone? Then he's answering instead of Hongzhe, instead of Hongzhe talking about the peaks certainly not, solitary peaks certainly not white, he says, day and night in harmony, sun and moon equally bright, the empty sky ages. And the eyebrows are white. So now it's not the whole ox that's white, it's just the eyebrows that are white.

[79:26]

So what about this capping phrase of Dogen's? In the end, where has it gone? So we understand the question now is, where, you know, in the first dialogue, the monk says, in the end, where has it gone? Referring to the, where does the, maybe it could be read as, where does it go? I hadn't thought of that. Maybe this is a bad translation. Maybe you should say, in the end, where does it go? I should look at that. But that would be another way to read that, maybe. His eyebrows are white, would that be a reference to wisdom? Maybe. It could be an image of old age, too. Right, but the old age of flying wisdom is what I meant. Sometimes, one hopes. Well, there's no fool like an old fool. There's also, they talk about your eyebrows falling out. Did we have that once before, one of these? And the eyebrows falling out is a way of talking about,

[80:29]

if you don't tell the truth, your eyebrows will fall out. That was last week. Yeah. So like we say, if you don't tell the truth, your nose will grow long, like the Pinocchio. So they say, if you don't tell the truth, your eyebrows, you'll lose your eyebrows. Your eyebrows will fall out. It's kind of funny. Here, the eyebrows haven't fallen out, but they're white. White also, we know, means purity. It's also the color of the snow. So again, this is not like some doctrinal formula here. This is poetry, okay? So it's not like there's some meaning that you've got to get. It's more about these images, about playing with these images. Yeah, but that image, the empty sky ages, is really curious to me. Good, so tell us about the empty sky. When you think of Sun Yata as unborn, undying, unchanging, outside of time. But here it says that the empty sky ages.

[81:30]

So I'm kind of curious. Yeah, what is that like when the empty sky ages? It's kind of scary. What does that mean? Anybody? Oana, what does that mean? Um, two truths fused. Okay, what do you mean by that? That there's the ultimate of the empty sky is one truth, and there is aging, sickness, death, is the other truth. The eyebrows are white. There's whiteness. They're your eyebrows. Unpluck them. Mm-hmm. Yeah, literally it's, you know, it's the two characters for emptiness. We could translate that as just emptiness has old age. Years are old. But it also, the second character means sky also. So you could say the empty sky literally is aging. Eyebrows are white.

[82:32]

To me, it was, uh, so in the beginning you have, uh, there is nothing other than this color, which is the empty sky. Right. And then it's aging is both nostrils are pierced. It's aging as it's returning to the world. And it's like good as it's reintegration. So it's like it's birth. I'm wondering, you know, it's old age and death is the function of conventional reality causes and conditions are, or are real life quote unquote real. And even what he was saying before about both nostrils are pierced. I mean, to me, when I first read that, it seemed like a very physical thing, you know, like a very grounded, where has this vehicle for which to take yourself and others to this place of, of where everything is one color and where is it? And I mean, it's here and you're living it through your piercing, you know, through your opening to teachings and you're living it with like this embroidered, you know, this kind

[83:39]

of piercing to this kind of your nostrils or your physical embodiment of your availability to this. I mean, eyebrows are white. Well, one thing going back to just one other, one other aspect going back to the idea of light and dark and snow and, you know, form and emptiness. And so he's got that in the end here, day and night in harmony. So sameness, and you could read that sameness or difference and sameness in harmony, sun and moon equally bright. So this is an image of both, both sides balanced. So could the empty sky be sort of in contrast to that, the absence of sun or moon? Right. That's right. It works poetically that way too. Yes. Good. Sun and moon, empty sky.

[84:39]

Yeah. Yeah. They're parallel. It's almost time to end. So, yeah, so this particular drama discourses, you know, one question before we stop, is that answer of Dogan's where he's talking about emptiness itself entering into old age and death and the eyebrows are white signifying the eyebrows are pure, but it's also symbolizing old age. How does that, does that contradict or amplify or how does that relate to Hongju's final answer when the self is transformed all the way, the solitary peak is unquestionably not white? It's the same. The empty sky is solitary peak. It ages.

[85:39]

It's not white. The eyebrows, the physical thing, are white. You know, it's like a peak is white as opposed to it not being white, which would be emptiness. All these physical things, you have the sun and moon are equally bright. Yeah, I would say it's not, he's not saying something, he's not saying the opposite or he's not saying something other than what Hongju is saying, but to me in a way he's saying it more vividly or he's elaborating on it a little bit. So, again, it's a matter of, you know, different lines of poetry maybe. And just looking, I just looked at the Chinese again and definitely you could read it as in the end where does it go rather than where has it gone and the way I like that better, maybe we'll change it. But if you think about it, in the end where does it go, that's kind of more active and then he says when the self is transformed, the solitary peak is certainly not white. In the end where does it go?

[86:41]

And then this is a description of where it goes when you practice this way, when you integrate this seeing the sameness or wholeness of everything with how you are going to write in the ox card. I appreciate his response in a way of, it gives me some access whereas Hongju is almost too magnificent, very sort of extreme words. Hongju is very lofty and Dogen is kind of, in a way, more playful. Having translated both now I feel like, and it's great to have a chance to translate more of Hongju, and I like them both very much. Hongju is very elegant, Dogen is not afraid to get kind of down and dirty in a certain way, and is more playful in a way. Hongju is a little bit more up there on the solitary peak, even if he's willing to be seen. Anyway, it's time to stop and I just wanted to thank you all for your, during the course

[87:47]

of these five weeks, for your comments and great discussions, and I've learned a lot about the stuff I've been translating from you all, and actually changed some of the readings based on it, so thank you. Shihoku Okumura, who I'm translating this with, will be back in the fall and doing a class on this same, other samples from the same text, so if you want more of it you can do that, and eventually this will be published by Wisdom Publications, but we still have a long way, a couple more years of translating to go. So thank you all very much. Namaskar.

[88:20]

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