Mountain home sleeping
No dreams of dust.
Three robes are plenty;
Who says I’m poor?
One for my pillow,
One to serve as a mat,
And at the thunder of my snoring
Heaven and Earth disappear.
Posts Tagged → dust
where can the dust alight?
The Fifth Ancestor
Daimin Konin wanted to find
his successor. He asked the monks to write
a poem to express their understanding. Jinshu,
the headmonk, wrote the following poem
on the wall in the middle
of the night:
Our body is the bodhi tree,
our mind a mirror bright.
Carefully wipe then hour by hour,
and let no dust alight.
When Eno saw this
next day, he said to the monk
standing next to him, “I too have a poem.
Since I am illiterate, would you
write it down for me?”
There is no bodhi tree,
nor stand of a mirror bright.
Since all is void,
where can the dust alight?
When Konin saw this, he
knew the author had the understanding
he was looking for, and he recognized Eno as
his dharma heir and hence the
Sixth Ancestor.
branching streams flow in the darkness
when the dust is polished off a mirror
When the illusory body
is extinguished, the illusory mind is
also extinguished. When the illusory mind
is extinguished, the illusory sense objects are
also extinguished. When the illusory sense
objects are extinguished, the illusory
extinguishing is also
extinguished.
When the illusory
extinguishing is extinguished, that
which is not illusory is not extinguished.
It is similar to how, when the dust
is polished off a mirror, the
brightness appears.
Virtuous one,
you should know that body
and mind are both illusory dust.
When the form of this dust is wiped
away, purity pervades
the universe.
The Sutra of Complete Enlightenment
from Dialogues in a Dream
by Musō Soseki
without capacity for accumulating dust
Patch-robed monks
practice thoroughly without carrying
a single thread. Open-mindedly sparkling and pure,
they are like a mirror reflecting a mirror, with
nothing regarded as outside, without
capacity for accumulating
dust.
those who know don’t talk
Those who
know don’t talk.
Those who talk
don’t know.
Close your mouth.
Block the door.
Quiet your senses.
Blunt the sharpness.
Untie the tangles.
Soften the brightness.
Be one with the dust, and
enter the primal
oneness.
One who has merged
with Tao in this way
can’t be courted,
can’t be bought,
can’t be harmed,
can’t be honored,
can’t be humiliated.
She is the treasure
of the world.
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