Imakita Kosen

Imakita Kosen described his experience of awakening this way: “One night during zazen practice the boundary between before and after suddenly disappeared. I entered into the blessed realm of the totally wondrous. It was as if I had arrived at the ground of the Great Death with no memory of the existence of anything, not even myself. All I remember is an energy in my body that spread out over ten times ten-thousand worlds and a light that radiated endlessly. At one point, as I took a breath, seeing and hearing, speaking and moving suddenly became different from what they had normally been. As I sought for the highest principle and the wondrous meaning of the universe, my own self became clear and all things appeared bright. In this abundance of delight, I forgot that my hands were moving in the air and my feet were dancing.”

Zen Masters of Japan: 294-95]

The Story of Zen: 213-17

Ogino Dokuon

 A Zen student called upon Ogino Dokuon. Desiring to show the master his level of  attainment, he said: “The mind, Buddha, and sentient beings do not exist. The true nature of phenomena is emptiness. There is no realization, no delusion, no sage, no mediocrity. There is no giving and nothing to be received.”

Dokuon, who was smoking quietly, said nothing. Then, suddenly, he hit the student with his bamboo pipe, making the young man jump to his feet in anger.

“If nothing exists,” inquired Dokuon, “where did this anger come from?”

Zen Masters of Japan: 293-94

Hara Tanzan

 

The Soto monk, Hara Tanzan, and his companion, Ekido, were traveling after a heavy rainfall and came upon a young woman in a silk kimono unable to cross the muddy intersection. Without hesitation, Tanzan told the girl that he could help her. Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her over the mud.

The rest of that day, Ekido did not say a thing. But when they stopped for the night at a local temple, he could restrain himself no longer. “We monks don’t go near females,” he told Tanzan, “especially not young and lovely ones. It is dangerous. Why did you do that?”

“I left the girl there,” Tanzan told him. “Why are you still carrying her?”

Zen Masters of Japan: 292-93

Ryokan Daigu

One evening a thief came upon the hermitage of the celebrated Zen Master and poet, Ryokan Daigu, but the Zen Master lived in such poverty that there was nothing for him to take. The disappointed robber was just leaving when Ryokan returned home and found him there.

“It’s a shame that you’ve come all this way and not received anything for your troubles,” the poet said, stripping off his robe. “Here. Please take this.”

Deeply confused, the thief took the robe and rushed off.

Afterwards, Ryokan sat on the floor, clothed only in his waist cloth, and enjoyed the moonlight.

The event inspired his best known haiku:

 

The thief left it behind—

moonlight

through the open window.

Zen Masters of Japan: 276-85

Sengai Gibon

 When Sengai Gibon was first appointed Abbot of Shofukuji, he discovered that some of the monks were in the habit of sneaking out of the monastery at night in order to spend time in bars and brothels. One monk in particular made regular forays in this manner.

Sengai found the small wooden platform the monk had placed against the wall to assist him in leaving and returning to the temple grounds. One night, when he knew the monk was engaged on another of these excursions, Sengai removed the platform and waited by the wall. On his return home, the monk mounted the wall and extended his foot towards the platform. He stepped instead into the cupped hands of the abbot. Sengai carefully helped him down, then, without a word of admonition, told the monk, “It’s a very damp morning; please take care not to catch cold.”

The platform was never replaced, and monks no longer snuck out of the monastery at night.

Zen Masters of Japan: 268-76

The Story of Zen: 370

Torei Enji

A student asked Torei Enji, “Is it true that seeing into one’s True Nature is the same as attaining Buddhahood?”

“It is.”

“Then you, Master, are a Buddha?”

Torei nodded his head.

“But we’ve been taught,” the student went on, “that Buddhas have special spiritual powers. If you’re a Buddha, why don’t you have special powers?”

“I most certainly have spiritual powers,” Torei replied.

“Then why don’t you manifest them so others can see them and be aware of them?”

“I’m always manifesting them. You, however, don’t recognize them. It isn’t the fault of the sun or the moon if a blind man is unable to see them."

Zen Masters of Japan: 254-60

The Story of Zen: 194-95

Hakuin Ekaku

When the great Japanese Zen reformer, Hakuin Ekaku, was still a student, he traveled from temple to
temple seeking to deepen his practice. At one point in his journey, he was joined by two older monks carrying bundles in which they kept their belongings. They were cynical men who, when they noticed how earnest their young companion was, were unscrupulous about taking advantage of him.

One of the men said, “I’m not feeling well, and I’ve traveled such a long distance. I don’t know if I have the strength to continue carrying this bundle.”

Hakuin readily offered to carry the bundle as well as his own, and, as he walked, he was so absorbed in his meditation on the koan Mu that he was barely aware of the added weight.

Seeing how his partner had fared, the other monk began to moan, “Ah! We’ve come such a long way, and yet we still have a long journey before us. And I, too, have become ill! Perhaps you could help me as well?”

Hakuin agreed and took up the third bundle.  Still focused on Mu, he was able to carry all three loads.

Eventually they came to a ferry they needed to board in order to cross a large lake. Hakuin laid the three bundles down and settled himself into meditation posture. He was quickly absorbed in a deep samadhi. The weather turned bad, and soon the boat began heaving badly on the rough waters. Although other passengers began to moan in agony, Hakuin persisted in his meditation and eventually, tired from his exertions, drifted gently into asleep. He slept soundly for hours and only awoke after the boat had docked. When he opened his eyes, he was assaulted by the smell of vomit. Looking around, he found that his companions and all the other passengers were lolling about the deck sick because of the turbulent waters they had run into. Hakuin alone had passed the journey unfazed.

As he walked down the gangplank steadily while the rest of the passengers lurched about unsurely, the captain of the ferry remarked, “You’re quite the young rascal, aren’t you?”

Hakuin was absorbed once more in the koan and went his way.

Zen Masters of Japan: 229-50, 254, 261]

The Story of Zen: 170, 188-196, 217, 370, 428, 430, 437, 442