(ko:an, Japanese tracing-sheet of Chinese 公案, gong'an) - a short narrative, question, dialogue, usually without logical background, often containing alogisms and paradoxes, more accessible to intuitive understanding.

Koan is a phenomenon specific to Zen Buddhism (especially to the Rinzai school). The purpose of the koan is to give a certain psychological impulse to the student for the possibility of achieving enlightenment or understanding the essence of the teaching. A Christian parable may serve as a European counterpart, but a koan should by no means be translated or understood in this way, since neither morality nor religion is almost never relevant to the essence of any given koan.

The attempt to understand the koan logically inevitably leads to contradiction. This contradiction plays an important role in comprehending one's true nature (Buddha nature).

A student who has received a koan from a master tries to solve the koan in every possible way and "connects" more and more forces to solve a logically insoluble problem. As a result, when all five senses are “turned off”, the student is at the stage, which in yoga is called dharana. In this state, the koan and the student are left alone (plus some wandering of the mind). If the student's mind is sufficiently "mature", then one day the wanderings of the mind subside and only the koan remains. At this moment the koan and the student are whole, the student experiences a glimpse of reality known as enlightenment or satori.

"The decision of the koan", "the answer to the koan" is the experience of satori, one of the primary and concomitant goals of most Zen (Chan) practices. The value of satori as a result is determined by three main factors:

1. Firstly, according to the provisions of Zen Buddhism, the experience of satori changes the practitioner’s psyche in such a way that meditative states become directly accessible (or more intuitively understandable) to him, the way to achieve which without such an experience, using traditional Buddhist practices (such as , the gradual accumulation of merit) can be very long. Whereas, even a single, short-term satori can serve as an instant impulse directly to stable samadhi (“every second Zen”, nirvana), which is the ultimate goal of practicing any kind of Buddhism.
2. Secondly, even if, as a result of this particular experience of satori, the practitioner has not reached full and final enlightenment, yet each of these experiences increases his likelihood, since satori is a moment of samadhi and accumulates like any experience. Thus, a person becomes more and more predisposed to the knowledge of meditative states.
3. In addition, thirdly, this experience is something like a guiding sign and a reward: a sign that the practitioner is doing everything right, and rewards, since a moment of enlightenment is followed by euphoria, as a natural triggering of the so-called. "reward systems" that reinforce its (experience) value to the psyche of the practitioner. That is why the decision of even one single koan can drastically change a person.

Obviously, in the above properties, there is some similarity with the experience of catharsis.

It should also be noted that due to the above accompanying euphoria, there is always a danger of delusion and turning the practice of Zen into "mining" false satori, that is, satori - for the sake of euphoria, from which many masters warned their students. So the widespread stereotype “satori is the goal of Zen practice” is fundamentally wrong, although satori is indeed an attribute (calling card) of this teaching.

Closing Phrase
If the master is satisfied with the way the student solved the koan, then he can instruct the student to pick up a “final phrase” (jakugo) for him - a quote from secular or spiritual literature that corresponds to the meaning of the koan.

Examples of koans
One palm cotton
“You can hear two palms clapping as they hit each other,” Mokurai said. “Now show me the clap of one hand.”
Toyo bowed and went to his room to consider this problem.
From the window he heard the music of the geishas. "Ah, I understand!" he exclaimed.
The next evening, when the teacher asked him to show the clap of one hand, Toyo began to play geisha music.
“No, no,” Mokurai said, “that won't do. This is not the clap of one hand. You didn't understand him at all."
Thinking that the music would interfere, Toyo went to a quieter place. He again plunged into meditation. “What can be the clap of one hand?” He heard water dripping.
I understand, Toyo thought.
In front of the teacher the next time, Toyo started dripping water.
"What is it? Mokurai asked. - It's the sound of dripping water, but not the sound of a hand clapping. Try again".
In vain Toyo meditated to hear the sound of one palm. He heard the sound of the wind, but this sound was also rejected. He heard the cry of an owl, but this sound was also rejected.
More than ten times Toyo came to Mokurai with various sounds, everything was wrong.
For almost a year he pondered what could be the clapping of one hand. Finally, little Toyo achieved true meditation and passed beyond sounds. "I could no longer collect them," he later explained, "so I achieved soundless sound."
Toyo enlightened to the clapping of one hand.

Here's another: collection of koans: http://fight.uazone.net/history/d0.html

Well, now: lurkomorye: http://lurkmore.to/Zen!!!

"A monk came to the master to help him find the answer to one of the classic questions of Zen dialectics: "What is the meaning of Bodhidharma's coming from the West?" The master invited the monk to bow in a low respectful bow before they proceeded to the decision. The monk did not hesitate to follow the instruction and immediately received a sensitive kick from the master. This freed the monk from the indecision in which he was. reached enlightenment and then told everyone: "Since Ma-zu kicked me, I have been laughing non-stop."

“Master Rinzai came with his disciples to Kyoto and stopped at a roadside shrine where there were several wooden Buddha statues. It was autumn time, it was raining, everyone was wet and cold. Rinzai took one of the statues, split it and lit a fire.
- Teacher! - one of the students began to shit with bricks, - you burned the Buddha!
Rinzai did not answer and began to dig in the ashes.
- What are you looking for, teacher? the students asked.
- Bones! he replied.
- What are the bones of the wooden statue? the students were surprised.
Oh, so they don't? - Rinzai was surprised in response - then let's burn a couple more statues and warm up properly!

An Introduction to Zen Buddhism (Suzuki) is one close option
http://www.jhana.ru/chan/50-suzuki-part4

"One day a student asked Zen Master Un-mun:
- Is there anything that surpasses the Buddha and all the illustrious teachers?
- Cake, - answered Un Mun.

Someone asked Zen Master Un Moon:
- What is a Buddha?
"Dry shit on a stick," replied Un Mun.

http://www.sunhome.ru/books/p.posypanie_buddy_peplom

“One day, many people gathered in the meditation hall. Sitting on a high platform, the Chan master Linji said: “Behind the wall of red flesh lives the Transcendent Master. The Master enters and exits through 6 doors all day long. Do you understand?”
One monk stood up and asked, “What is this Ultimate Master?”
Linji got up, ran down the steps, grabbed the monk and shouted, “Tell me! Tell me!!!" The monk hesitated. Linji threw it away and said, "Master Beyond is a bunch of crap."

Sprinkling ashes on the Buddha (Sun San) http://www.sunhome.ru/books/p.posypanie_buddy_peplom

"Once a monk came to Master Tokusan and, according to tradition, bowed before asking a question. Tokusan immediately hit him with a stick. The monk did not understand what was the matter:
- Hey, why did you hit me?
"There's no point in waiting for an asshole like you to start talking," Tokusan replied.

The flower is silent. Zen Essays (Shibayama) http://book.ariom.ru/top/404-zen.html

"Master Linji said: "If you meet a Buddha, kill a Buddha, if you meet a patriarch, kill the patriarch, if you meet a saint, kill a saint."

"After spending some time in the USA, the future Shengyan master returned to Taiwan to see his two old masters. Shengyan said to his masters:
- I teach Chan in America. Okay?
- Ha! So you think you can teach Chan! So?
- I'm just fooling people. Don't worry
"Oh, okay then."

Tomorrow I will write about Kodo Sawaki Roshi ^___^

Zen is a special form of transmission of truth, not associated with any treatises. Direct contact with the spiritual essence of man and the achievement of the perfection of the Buddha...
Bodhidharma

Koan

The koan aims at the artificial or systematic development in Zen followers of what the ancient masters discovered directly in themselves. It also allows the experience of Zen to be transmitted to a large number of minds, which, in the absence of this system, a Zen teacher could not even hope for. Thus the koan seeks to popularize Zen and at the same time become a means of preserving the experience of Zen in all its authenticity. "Aristocratic" Zen has become "democratic", systematized and to some extent mechanized Zen.

No doubt this would also mean its distortion, but without this innovation Zen would probably have died long ago. In my opinion, it was the system of koan exercises that saved Zen - this unique heritage - of the Far Eastern culture. To understand a little better the circumstances that gave rise to the koan system, let me quote the words of one of the two teachers of the 11th century. They indicate that at that time there were at least two tendencies that were destroying Zen. One was the doctrine and practical school of "absolute calm," and the other was the habit of reasoning, which crushed Zen from all sides.

"Absolute calmness," with which the Zen masters have fought relentlessly since the beginning of Zen history, has been mistaken for the essence of Zen. For some reason this tendency inevitably haunted the practical school of Zen. As far as the mental understanding of Zen is concerned, not only non-specialists, but also some adherents of Zen have been constantly carried away by it in spite of the experience of Zen. There is no doubt that the worst enemy of Zen is hiding here. If it is not done away with, it will no doubt rear its head again and again, especially when Zen shows signs of decline.

Daie says in a letter to Xinya Donin, one of the monk disciples:

There are two errors that are now common among Zen followers, both amateurs and professionals. One is that a person thinks that amazing things are hidden in words. Those who hold this opinion try to learn as many words and sayings as possible. The second is the other extreme, where one forgets that words are a finger pointing to the moon.

Blindly following the injunctions of the sutras, which say that words interfere with the correct understanding of the truth of Zen and Buddhism, they reject all verbal and simply sit with their eyes closed and sour faces, like the dead. They call this quiet sitting "inner contemplation" and "silent reflection."

Not satisfied with their own ascetic exercises, they try to impose their misconceptions of Zen on others. To such ignorant and foolish followers they usually say: "One day of silent reflection takes the place of one day of progressive struggle." Very sorry. They are not at all aware that a ghostly life awaits them. Only when these erroneous views are done away with will the real possibility of real progress on the path of mastery of Zen open up.

The sutra says that, on the one hand, a person should not become attached to everything artificial and unreal in the form of words and language that people use to express their experiences, and on the other hand, he should not accept the opposite point of view, rejecting indiscriminately all words, and forget that they contain the truth: you just need to understand them correctly. It must be remembered that the word and its meaning are not the same, and often different: there is a close relationship between them, so that one is unthinkable without the other.

From this we may conclude that, if Zen were left to itself, it would certainly degenerate into the practice of "quiet sitting" and "silent contemplation" or the mere memorization of the many sayings and dialogues of the Zen masters. To save the day and provide for the further healthy development of Zen, the Zen masters could find no better means than an innovation in the form of the koan exercise.

What is a koan?

According to one authoritative source, koan means "a well-known document that is a standard of judgment" by which the correct understanding of Zen is tested. A koan is usually some statement made by an ancient Zen master, or some answer given by him to the questioner. Here are some of the koans commonly offered to the uninitiated:

One monk asked Tosan, "Who is the Buddha?" - "Three qins of cotton."

Ummon was once asked: "When there is not a single thought in a person's mind, is there any mistake here?" "As big as Mount Sumeru."

Joshu answered "mu" (wu) to a monk's question, "Does a dog have Buddha nature?" "My" literally means "no" or "none", but when this word is given as a koan, it has no connection with the literal meaning: it is "mu", simple and pure.

When the monk Me-joza caught up with Eno, who had run away, he wanted the latter to reveal to him the secret of Zen. Eno replied: "What is your original image, which you had even before birth?"

One monk asked Joshu: "What does the coming of the First Patriarch to China mean?" - "Cypress in the yard."

When Joshu came to study Zen under Kansen, he asked, "What is the Tao (or Way)?" Kansen replied, "Your everyday mind is what Tao is."

One monk asked: "They say that all things come down to one thing, but what does one thing come down to?" Joshu replied, "When I was in the Qing region, I wore a cassock that weighed seven qin."

When Ho-koji, an ancient Zen adept, first came to Basho to learn Zen, he asked, "Who is he who has nothing to do with the ten thousand things of this world?" Basho replied: "When you drink all the water in the Western River in one gulp, I will tell you."

When such problems are offered to be solved by the uninitiated, what is the aim of the teachers? This is done in order to open the mind of the uninitiated to the psychology of Zen and to bring about the state of consciousness of which these statements are expressions. In other words, when the koan is understood, the mental state of the teacher is understood, which leads to satori and without which Zen is a book with seven seals. At the dawn of the history of Zen, the student came to the teacher with a question by which the teacher could judge the mental state of the questioner and the help that was needed.

The help that was provided in this way was sometimes enough to awaken the consciousness of the student, but more often such an answer puzzled him and completely confused him, which led him to even greater mental stress or to the "search for a way out", which we have already mentioned above. . In fact, the teacher usually had to wait for the student to ask his first question, if he had one at all. To ask the first question is to go most of the way to its solution, since this question is the product of intense mental efforts that bring the mind of the questioner to a crisis. It indicates that the crisis has come and that the mind is ready to pass it.

An experienced teacher, as a rule, knows how to lead a student into a crisis and what to do to ensure that he successfully overcomes it. This was the case before the exercise of the koan came into vogue, as has already been illustrated by the examples of Rinzai, Saigaku, and others. Over time, many mondos appeared and were exchanged between teachers and students. With the growth of the Zen literature, Zen followers began, quite naturally, to try to present their mental solution or interpretation.

These "questions and answers" ceased to have the character of experience and intuition, characteristic of Zen, and became the subject of logical analysis. It represented a terrible disaster, but it was unavoidable. In this regard, the teacher, concerned about the normal development of Zen and the firm strengthening of its traditions, could not fail to see the true state of affairs, which prompted him to invent a method that ultimately leads to the comprehension of Zen. A method that worked under such circumstances was to select some of the statements of the ancient teachers that could be used as pointers. In this case, the pointer served two purposes:

To test the workings of the mind, or rather to allow the mind to define its own limits and recognize that there are some areas inaccessible to it.
Accelerate the maturation of elements of consciousness essential to Zen, which ultimately leads to a state of satori unexpectedly. When the koan pursues the first goal, then what is commonly called "search for an exit" takes place.

In this case, not only the mind, which itself is only a part of our being, but the whole being - both mind and body - is completely absorbed in the solution of this koan. When this unusual state of spiritual tension, monitored by an experienced teacher, reaches maturity, the koan leads to what is called the realization of Zen. Intuitive knowledge of the truth of Zen is achieved, as the wall, which this "yogi" could not overcome until now, collapses, and completely new horizons open before him. Without a koan, the mind of a Zen practitioner is deprived of a guide, and the state of satori can never be reached.

Psychological impasse is a necessary condition for satori. Previously, that is, before the advent of the koan exercise, all the necessary prerequisites for choosing the right path were created in the mind of the "yogi" due to his own high spirituality. But when Zen was systematized due to the appearance of a large amount of literature on Zen in the form of "questions and answers", the need for a koan was widely recognized among teachers.

The worst enemy of Zen, at least at the beginning, is the mind, which manifests itself in a stubborn discrimination between subject and object. Therefore, the discriminating mind must be destroyed in order to unfold the consciousness inherent in Zen, and the koan serves mainly this purpose. It is not difficult to see that the koan does not allow mental interpretation at all. The scalpel of the intellect is not able to open it and see what is inside, because the koan is not a logical statement, but causes a certain mental state caused by the practice of Zen.

For example, what logical connection can there be between the Buddha and the "three qins of cotton"? Between Buddha nature and "mu"? Or between the secret message of Bodhidharma and the "cypress"? In the famous Hekigan-shū Zen manual, Eno makes the following remark about the "three qin of cotton", showing how this koan was interpreted by Zen pseudo-students who could not grasp its essence:

There are some people today who misunderstand this koan, because there is not a single crack in it for them to drive a wedge of intellect into. By this I want to say that he is outwardly too simple and uninteresting. Different teachers gave different answers to the question "Who is the Buddha?" One monk said: "He is in the joss-house." Another replied: "He is the one who is endowed with thirty virtues." A third stated that "this is a bamboo root whip". But none of these answers can compare in terms of irrationality with Tosan's answer: "Three qins of cotton."

Such an answer breaks all threads of reasoning. Some explain that Tosan was busy weighing the cotton at the time, hence the answer. Others say that Tosan simply wanted to evade the answer, and still others think that because the questioner was unaware of the fact that he himself was a Buddha, Tosan gave him an indirect answer. Such people (that is, commentators) are like the dead, since they are completely incapable of comprehending the living truth. However, there are also those who take these "three qins of cotton" for the Buddha (thus giving a pantheistic interpretation). What wild and fantastic interpretations.

As long as they are attached to words, they can't even hope that they will be able to penetrate the soul of Tosan, even if they live to see Maitreya Buddha. Why? - Yes, because words are only the outer shell of truth. Not understanding what this ancient teacher meant, they try to find the truth in his words, but there is nothing in them that they could grasp. Truth itself defies any description, as an ancient sage would say, but it is in words that it is transmitted.

Let us then forget about words when we comprehend the truth. This is possible only when we have the experience of comprehending what is expressed in words. "Three qins of cotton" can be compared to a wide highway leading to the capital: if you just get on it, then every step you take will be in the right direction. When Ummon was once asked which teaching is higher than the teachings of the Buddhas and the patriarchs, he said: "An apple baked in dough." Ummon and Tosan walk side by side, along the same road. When you are completely cleansed of any kind of discrimination, the truth will immediately be revealed to you.

Then logic turns into psychology, reasoning into an act of will and intuition. What could not be resolved on the plane of empirical consciousness is transferred to the deeper recesses of the mind. In the words of an ancient teacher, "until the sweat runs down your back in streams, the boat will not sail against the wind. Until your clothes are wet with sweat, you cannot hope to see a pearl palace on a blade of grass."

The koan does not lend itself to solution under easier conditions. But when it is solved, it can be compared to a piece of brick that is knocked on the gate: when the gate is open, it is thrown away. The koan is needed while the gates of the mind are closed, but when they open, it can be forgotten. What a person then sees is something completely unexpected, something that he had never even imagined before. And when this koan is viewed again from this new point of view, how wonderfully deep and well constructed it seems. And at the same time, there is nothing artificial in it.

The principle of working with a koan according to Dai-in:

Don't get carried away by imagination;
do not pay attention to distracting gestures of the teacher;
do not try to extract the meaning of the koan from its verbal shell;
do not try to explain the meaning of the koan in words alone;
do not think that the meaning of a koan can be grasped when it becomes an object of thought;
don't mistake Zen for a mere state of passivity;
do not judge the koan from a dualistic position;
do not think that the koan indicates absolute emptiness;
don't try to solve the koan with logic;
do not set your mind in anticipation of death.

Hakuin: "If you want to get to the bottom of the purest, impersonal truth, you must consciously lose your footing and throw yourself into the abyss, after which you will return to life again, having received as an inalienable property four gifts: eternity, bliss, freedom and purity, which belong to the true ego."

Zen koans are short stories, the meaning of which cannot be comprehended based on rational logic; these are not just parables, the reflection of which, according to the intention of the Zen masters, should lead to enlightenment, but also a unique source of managerial wisdom.

Once upasaka Liu-ken said to Nan-chuan: “I have a stone at home that sits and lies. I'm going to carve a Buddha out of him, can I do that?" Nan-chuan replied, "Yes, you can." "Can I not do this?" - continued upasaka Lu-ken. "No, you can't do that," Nan-zhuan replied.

Pai Yun, a Zen master from the Song Dynasty, wrote a poem:

Where others live

I do not live.

Where others go

It doesn't mean reject

Communication with others;

I only want to do

Black is different from white.

The monk saw a tortoise crawling in the garden of the Ta-suya monastery and asked the teacher, “All creatures have bones covered with meat and skin. Why does this creature have meat and skin covered with bones?” Master Ta-sui took off one sandal and covered the tortoise with it.

One day Manjushri was standing in front of the gate when the Buddha called out to him, "Manjushri, Manjushri, why don't you come in?"

I don't see anything on this side of the gate. Why should I enter? Manjushri replied.

Nan-in, a Japanese Zen teacher who lived during the Meiji era (1868-1912), hosted a university professor who came to learn about Zen. Nan-in invited him to tea. He poured the guest a cup to the top and continued to pour further.

The professor watched how the cup overflowed, and, finally, could not stand it: "It's overflowing. It won't go in again!"

"Just like this cup," said Nan-in, "you are full of your own opinions and thoughts. How can I show you Zen if you haven't emptied your cup first?"

Twenty monks and one nun named Esun were meditating with a certain Zen teacher. Esyun was very pretty, despite the fact that her head was shorn and her clothes were very modest. Several monks secretly fell in love with her. One of them wrote her a love letter, insistently demanding a meeting in private.

Esun didn't answer. The next day, the teacher taught the group, and when they were over, Esyun got up. Referring to the one who wrote to her, she said: "If you really love me, come and hug me."

Is it so?

The Zen master Hakuin was known among his neighbors as a man who lived a blameless life. A beautiful girl lived next to him, whose parents owned a grocery store. Suddenly, her parents discovered that she was about to have a child. They were furious. The girl refused to name the father of the child, but after much insistence, she named Hakuin. In great anger, the parents came to the teacher. "Is that so?" was all he said.

After the baby was born, it was brought to Hakuin. By this time, he had lost all respect from those around him, which did not bother him at all. He surrounded the child with care and warmth, took milk from the neighbors for the child and everything he needed. A year later, the mother girl still could not stand it and told her parents the truth: that the father of the child was a young man who worked at the fish market. The girl's father and mother immediately went to Hakuin, asked his forgiveness, apologized to him for a long time and asked him to return the child. Hakuin willingly forgave them. Giving the child away, he only said: "Is it so?"

Obedience.

The conversations of the Zen teacher Bankei attracted not only Zen students, but also people of different sects and ranks. He never recited sutras and was not fond of scholastic reasoning. His words went from his heart straight to the hearts of his listeners.

His large audience displeased the priest of the Nichiren sect, as the sect's followers left him to hear about Zen. A self-absorbed Nichiren priest came to the temple intending to argue with Bankei.

"Hey, Zen master!" he called. "Wait a minute. Anyone who respects you will obey your words, but I don't respect you. Can you make me obey?" "Come to me and I'll show you," said Bankei.

The priest began majestically to make his way through the crowd to the teacher. Bankei smiled. "Stand to my left." The priest obeyed. "No," said Bankei, "it will be easier for us to talk if you stand to my right. Move over here." The priest moved to the right with dignity. "You see," Bankei said, "you obey me, and it seems to me that you are a thin and soft person. Now sit down and listen."

Message.

Tanzan wrote 60 postcards on the last day of his life and asked for them to be mailed. Thereupon he died. On the cards was written: I leave this world. This is my last post. Tanzan July 27, 1892.

0 dead man's answer.

When Mamiyya, who later became a famous preacher, came to the teacher to study, the teacher asked him to explain what one hand clap is. Mamiyya began to concentrate on the question, what is one hand clap?

"You don't work hard enough," the teacher told him. "You're too attached to food, wealth, things, and all that. It would be better if you died, that would solve the problem." When Mamiyya next appeared in front of the teacher, he again asked to show what the clap of one hand was. Mamiyya immediately fell to the ground as if dead.

"You died very well," the teacher said, looking at him. "But what about the cotton?" "I haven't solved this problem yet," replied Mamiya, looking at the teacher from below. "Dead people don't talk," the teacher said, "get out!"

When the roof was leaking, the Zen master told the two monks to bring something to collect the water. One brought a keg, the other a basket. The first received a severe reprimand, the second deserved praise.

One day, the Chinese Zen master Chao-chu fell into the snow and shouted, “Help me up! Help me get up!" The monk came and lay down next to him. Chao-chu got up and left.

What was your face like before your mother and father were born?

The monk asked the Zen master Haryo, "What is the path?" “A man with open eyes falls into a well,” replied the Master.

Taking a high seat to preach to the crowd, Fa-yen raised his hand and pointed to the bamboo curtains. The two monks stood up and lifted the curtains, twisting them equally. “One succeeded, the other did not,” said Fa-yen.

When you can't do anything - what can you do?

What color is the wind?