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The Ten Oxherding
Pictures
Paintings by YOKOO Tatsuhiko
(Kuroya 1801-10, Chichibu-shi, 368-0001 Japan)
http://homepage3.nifty.com/sanbo-zen/cow_e.html

Ten Ox-herding
Pictures
with the Verses Composed by KAKUAN Zenji
Teisho by KUBOTA
Ji'un
The "Ten Ox-herding Pictures" are one example of "Ox-herding
Pictures." Here, our essential self is compared to an ox. We seek
the ox, grasp it, tame it and finally the self which has always
been seeking becomes completely one with the ox. But this also is
forgotten so that we now simply carry on our ordinary lives. This
is the process described by the Pictures. They show concretely the
progression of our practice and are very helpful for a
self-examination of our own practice and as encouragement for
further practice. I hope then that studying the Ten Ox-herding
Pictures will provide an opportunity for all of us to continually
examine our practice and also give an indication for
self-reflection as to what stage we have now arrived.
All that is known about the author of the verses to the Ten
Ox-herding Pictures, Master KAKUAN Shion, is that he was a disciple
of DAIZUI Genjô [1065-1135], the twelfth in the line of Master
Rinzai. His dates of birth and death as well as other information
are unclear. To each of the ten pictures of the Ten Ox-herding
Pictures Master Kakuan has first put a verse and at the end his
disciple, Jion (some say Kakuan himself, others say the friend of
Kakuan) is said to have put a general introduction and a brief
introduction to each one of the verses.
In the Ten Ox-herding Pictures a little child and an ox are
depicted. The ox is the essential self which we are seeking. The
little child represents the self of the phenomenal world which
wants very much to grasp the essential self - not through concepts
and thoughts, but as it really is. This little child (the self of
the phenomenal world) is, in fact, always seeking something. It
wants money, status, and fame. But life is more than just money,
more than just status, and more than just fame. So, the self goes
on seeking, now through this philosophy, now through that religion,
and endeavors to grow and to make as much progress as possible.
There are some who are defeated by the struggle, become neurotic,
and even go so far as suicide. For them the spirit of seeking
something has operated only as a minus factor; the fact that they
are still expending energy and continuing to seek something has not
changed.
But why is it that men and women always seek something in this way?
According to the teaching of Zen, men and women are essentially
perfect and complete, in reality limitless and absolute (this is
called "buddha" [hotoke] or "essential buddha-being"
[honrai-jôbutsu]). Nevertheless, though being such, they appear
phenomenally as imperfect, limited, relative, passing sinful beings
(sometimes this is called "ordinary people" [bompu], and sometimes
"living beings" [shujô]). Besides, although human being are born
this way, they cannot know the essence (Buddha nature) of their own
perfection and limitless absoluteness.
The Ten Ox-herding Pictures have concretely depicted the process in
which the imperfect, limited, and relative self (the little child)
awakens to the perfect, unlimited, and absolute essential self (the
ox), grasps it, tames it, forgets it, and completely incorporates
it into the personality. But we must stress that these pictures and
verses are merely an indication of the way to practice and not an
object for conceptual thought. Thus, the study of the Ten
Ox-herding Pictures are very useful for those who are actually
striving to make clear the true self in Zen through the actual
sitting with aching legs. But for those who want only to learn the
rationale of Zen I must warn that these pictures and words will be
only "white elephants" of no use whatsoever.
Accordingly for the present study I will omit an explanation of the
general introduction and proceed to explain the spirit of the
particular introduction for each stage. After that I would like to
appreciate each line of the verses composed by Master Kakuan
himself.
(originally printed in Kyôshô #245 [1994]-#259 [1996]; the present
version is a revised edition)
(The words in [ ] are the translator's notes)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 1
SEEKING THE OX

The first of the Ten Ox-herding Pictures is "Seeking the Ox." It is
the stage when the desire has arisen to seek the essential self,
the original self (the ox). It is known as the "first stirring of
the heart" [sho-hosshin] and is indeed a precious and beautiful
movement. Although there are billions of people living on this
earth, there are only very few who know that the essential self is
completely perfect and absolutely limitless. Nor is it an
exaggeration to say that there are hardly any who have realized
this in fact and made it a part of themselves. How fortunate that
we have encountered the authentic and traditional Buddha Way and
taken the first step in its practice! How beautiful and precious
indeed!
On this earth of ours the first to have realized that our essence
is completely perfect and absolutely limitless was Shakyamuni
Buddha. So, once you realize it, the completely perfect self (ox)
does not go anywhere. Shakyamuni proclaimed that since we are
endowed with it from the start there was no need to seek it out.
The saying that "all living beings are originally Buddhas" is an
expression of this reality.
But how is it with us really? No one has any idea of what way we
are completely perfect or how we are absolutely limitless. No
matter what, we can only see ourselves as imperfect and
insufficient, as relative beings that exist for the limited span of
50 or 80 years. This is because we turn our backs on pursuing the
crucial question "What is the true self?" to open our eyes to our
real essence, but, instead, go after only the objective world
outside us, thus becoming more and more estranged from our true
self.
Once we turn to this dust of delusive differentiation, we go from
one thing to another pursuing delusions and becoming hopelessly
lost in that infinite dust, until finally we have completely lost
sight of our true self. A common mistake into which those doing
zazen fall is surely this. Therefore, no matter what is seen, no
matter what is heard, no matter what comes to mind, not to pay
attention to any of it but only become "Mu" itself [cf. Koan
"Jôshu's Dog" in Mumonkan Case 1]. But rather, thinking Mu is
outside of themselves, people try to grasp it conceptually and go
after whatever comes to mind, from one thing to the next, without
knowing how to stop. Then, Mu (their true self), which is what they
should be seeking, goes off somewhere. As a result, no matter how
many years pass, they cannot grasp Mu.
And so the familiar mountains and houses of your native place (true
self) become distant, and you can no longer know the road over
which you originally came. Even if you want to return, you no
longer know the way to go back; rather, you go off on a side road
which leads in a direction farther and farther away from the true
self. What is that side road, you may ask? It is the endlessly
critical mind which arises like a sharp dagger, judging some things
good and others bad from the criterion of your own
profit-gain.
Not being satisfied with the material world and attempting to
achieve a solid spiritual base, you have reached the level of
"seeking the ox." But if you make a mistake in the method of Zen,
immediately you go down a side road with the result that it would
have been better not to do zazen at all. Therefore, at the point of
beginning zazen it is extremely important to choose an authentic
master; at the same time you must never forget to always have a
strict spirit of self-reflection when practicing the
Way.
Now let's look at the verse of Master Kakuan:
Incessantly you brush aside thick grasses in
pursuit.
You make the practice of Mu trying with all your might to overtake
the ox by sweeping away the grass of delusive discrimination
appearing continually. The legs become painful and the knees ache.
In the afternoon you become drowsy. At "kinhin" [i.e., walking
meditation between zazen sessions] you loosen the legs, wash the
face and take away the drowsiness. You revive your spirit and once
again challenge Mu.
The waters are wide, the mountains far,
and the path leads on without end.
No matter how far you go, the channel of the river keeps widening,
and the mountain ranges continue far in the distance; you never
reach a place where you can say, "Now it is enough." Day after day,
there is only sitting facing the wall. Can a person really solve
the problems of life by just doing this? Thoughts get confused by
the thousands and you go off on an unclear
road.
Sapped of strength, exhausted in spirits,
knowing no longer where to search.
Bodily strength is gone as well as mental energy. You don't know
what to do. "What can I do? How can I do it?" Only those who have
really practiced in a down-to-earth way can understand what it
means to reach this point. However, here, at the lowest point, the
point of the Great Death, you have reached the very important state
that is called "being close to the treasure
place."
You only hear the sound of the evening cicadas
chirping in the maple trees.
It is now evening. The cicadas in the maple trees are singing
"miiiin, miiiin" in a frenzy. When you hear their cry you want to
cry also. "Oh, today also is finishing in vain." Unless you have
experienced this kind of thought a number of times, you cannot find
your true self.
-------------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 2
FINDING THE TRACKS

The stage of "finding the tracks" is the stage of having discovered
the hoofmarks of the ox. In general, the "hoofmarks" signify the
stage in which you read and understand the sutras, or study the
various teachings of Shakyamuni and of the patriarchs, and come to
a conceptual understanding of the content of their experience. That
is to say, it is the stage in which you have understood
"cerebrally" the existence of the ox.
However, in actual practice, when you do the practice of Mu with
all your might,at first what were two separate entities - yourself
and Mu - gradually become one through your efforts and a deepening
of Mu practice. And the conviction is born: "if I continue at this
rate, I too can certainly make kensho." And then your strength is
put into Mu even more. This stage is called that of "finding the
tracks."
What does it mean to say that you understand conceptually that the
ox exists? It means to have understood the principle that all
beings in heaven and earth are empty ("Form is emptiness" - [a
famous quote from the Prajna-Paramita Sutra or Hannya Shingyô
Sutra]). Once you understand the nature of this emptiness you also
understand the principle that all things in heaven and on earth are
the self. As Monk Jô [who lived in the 4th century China] says:
"Heaven and earth and I are of the same root; all things and I are
the same body." Now there is an "I" which understands this
principle. Yet, insofar as this "I" remains, you do not really
understand the true emptiness or the inner state expressed as
"Heaven and earth and I are one body."
Thus it is necessary to personally experience the fact of "Form is
emptiness." And to do that there is only one way: to give your
whole self to Mu, to forget the self so that just Mu remains. If
you continue this practice, you will eventually at some opportunity
or another take hold of the "fact" that you are completely empty
and do not exist anywhere and the "fact" that because you are empty
everything is yourself. Insofar as you do not actually do this
practice nor have this experience, be assured that your Zen is
simply conceptual and theoretical Zen.
Those who are captives to this kind of conceptual and theoretical
Zen are also spoken of as a whole as those in the position of
"finding the tracks." Those who do scholarly research in Zen, no
matter how fine and detailed the research is, from the standpoint
of the practice of Zen are taken together as being in the stage of
"finding the tracks."
Let's now try to appreciate the verse of Master
Kakuan:
At the waters edge, under the trees - hoofmarks are
numerous.
Along the water's edge and in the depths of the forest, in every
place the hoofmarks of the ox can be seen. Theoretically, "form is
emptiness, emptiness is form; heaven and earth and I are of the
same root; all things and I are you body." But from the aspect of
practice, each and every Mu is every and all the hoofmarks of the
ox.
Balmy grasses grow abundantly - can you see them or
not?
There are sweet smelling grasses spreading out abundantly and
swayed by the wind. The poet challenges us, Can you see them? All
things in heaven and on earth, each one by one, are the open and
clear and identical expression of this true fact. Do we understand
this or not? The verse seems to insinuate that we might comprehend
a little with the head, but that we aren't able to truly understand
the real thing.
Even if you go deeper and deeper into the
mountains.
The more you pursues the original ox with your "Muuuuu," the
fartherit goes into the recesses of the mountains. If you look at
Mu from the outside and try to pursue it, it just keeps going
farther and farther away. This is a very important point: your
practice must not be one of pursuing and looking at Mu from the
outside. It must be one of just completely becoming Mu
itself.
How could his nostrils, well compassing the heavens, hide him at
all?
But wait a moment. With each Mu are we not grasping the muzzle of
the ox, and is it not the ox (the real self) itself? Is it not a
reality that cannot be hidden anywhere? This is a sincere warning
for us.
If you are really faithfully practicing, at first you don't know
what is what,but gradually the way of folding the legs,holding the
hands, and keeping the position become clear; the way of
controlling the breath and the practice of Mu itself becomes
understood. If you continue for a few months or half a year or a
year, gradually the heart becomes calm and the way of doing Zazen
itself begins to deepen. And the conviction arises that if you
continue this effort, you will without fail attain enlightenment.
You begin to sit with greater and greater enthusiasm. Even
conceptually you become certain and your conviction of Zen does not
waver even with the slightest thing. You have not yet grasped the
ox experientially, but you have fully gotten into gear with the
practice of Zen. This is the stage of the position of "finding the
tracks."
----------------------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 3
CATCHING SIGHT OF THE OX

"Catching sight of the ox" is the stage of having seen clearly the
real self. What does it mean to see clearly the real self? Up to
that time you have been accustomed to think that there was a
"substance" (the ego) which was called the self. But to see the
real self clearly is to experience the fact that actually the self
is completely devoid of substance and that the so-called ego was
never even there!
For many this experience is initiated through some kind of
resonating sound. Master Mumon [1183-1260, author of the Mumonkan]
attained a great enlightenment as soon as he heard the "boom" of a
big drum. Master Kyôgen [? -898] was raking in the garden very
earnestly when a stone lodged in his broom flew off and struck a
bamboo tree with great force. At the sound of the "whack" the
delusion that had enveloped him up to that time was blown away at
once and he attained the true self. And so there are many examples
of such achievements following upon sounds of various
kinds.
In this way when you realize the true self, you reach the source,
namely, "whatever you see or hear, each individual thing is, just
as it is, the true self." Of course, it is important that this be a
true experience. If even a little conceptual thought creeps in, it
is not a true experience of "catching sight of the
ox."
Let's look at this phenomenon more closely. There are said to be
six "roots" [kon] of perception, that is, six sense organs: eyes,
ears, nose, tongue, (tactile) body, and mind. Corresponding to
these organs there are six "objects"[kyô] of perception: color and
shape, sound, smell, taste, tangible objects, and mental objects.
And there are six "consciousnesses" [shiki] which occur when the
six sense organs correspond to the six objects of perception:
visual consciousness, auditory consciousness, olfactory
consciousness, gustatory consciousness, tactile consciousness,
mental consciousness. True enlightenment is understanding that each
one of these is true reality, devoid of any substance, the true
self; among them there exists absolutely no
difference.
And it is not only the six sense organs, six objects of perception,
and the six consciousnesses which are meant here. Standing,
sitting, crying, laughing, eating, drinking, slipping, spilling -
all such movements are the true self, the true fact, that is, the
ox as a whole really appearing in total
openness.
The condition of the true ox as devoid of all content is just like
the saltiness in sea water or the glue in the pigment, which cannot
be detected from outside. Ordinary people know only the superficial
forms like the sea water or pigment. But after enlightenment you
realize that there is saltiness in sea water and glue in pigment,
and that, in actuality, these elements have been doing their
natural work. When you know clearly saltiness which makes sea water
what it actually is and glue which makes out pigment, with
confidence you can say that this is the ox (the true self). The
result is that the entire way of looking at things you have used up
to now changes completely.
Let's now take a look at the verse of Kakuan
Zenji:
The bush warbler sings on the branch.
The term "bush warbler" means nightingale. The nightingale sits on
a branch and warbles in a loud voice. "Catching sight of the ox"
(enlightenment) must be a clear experience like this. It is the
"boom" of Master Mumon and the "whack" of Master Kyôgen. Insofar as
you bring to dokusan some abstraction like, "Each thing in heaven
and on earth is itself an expression of Mu," it is not the real
thing. Abstractions, concepts, thoughts are play models of Zen and
not Zen itself. Both teachers and students of Zen must take this to
heart. Accordingly checking this out is very
important.
The sun is warm, the breeze gentle,
and the willows on the riverbank are green.
When you have experienced really "catching sight of the ox"
(enlightenment), you for the first time escape from the fetters of
the ego and see reality just as it is. It is like when you have put
down the pack from your shoulders just as the spring sunlight comes
through and a gentle breeze flows; the weeping willows on both
banks are putting out green leaves and the branches are swaying
gently.
There is no place you can escape from him.
The true ox being expressed in the softness of this spring scene is
not just the world which is seen by the eyes or heard by the ear
[ninku]. All the environment surrounding us is the true ox itself
[hokku]; all the universe is the ox itself. Thus, if this is true,
even should you want to escape from the ox there would be no way to
escape. And:
That majestic head and horns could never be painted in a
picture.
No one can express or diagram or foretell when and in what way the
ox will appear, for the movements of the real ox are very lively in
the midst of the forest.
But what we must keep in mind here is that, when you have an
experience like this, you feel just like you have gotten hold of
the neck of the devil, and before you know it, you are boasting of
the experience, neglecting your practice, disregarding the master,
such that it would have been better never to have done Zen in the
first place. "Catching sight of the ox" is still only the third
stage. Know that you must walk a road of continual striving for
improvement.
----------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 4
SEIZING THE OX

The stage of "seizing the ox" is that at which you have firmly laid
hold of the ox, which is our essential nature. The essence of the
ox has become clear. At the stage of "catching sight of the ox, "
you have only seen the ox. If you slacken your effort, thinking
that this is already the highest attainment, the ox soon disappears
from sight again. The resulting state is one in which all that
remains is the memory of having seen the ox (having reached
enlightenment). Thus, if you have reached enlightenment, it is
vitally important to continue your practice more and more
vigorously to make that world which has been glimpsed become even
clearer.
However, this ox in our heart for a long time has been set deeply
in the outlying fields and in the midst of mountains,which is to
say, it has been mired in the phenomenal world of dualism. And
because it cannot forget the taste of that world, it has been very
difficult to pull it away from it. As the result of long years of
practice, for a brief moment today, you have been able to grasp the
ox. This is the stage of "seizing the ox."
Well, exactly what does it mean to have seized the ox (real self),
you may ask. It means to see clearly, without the mediation of
concepts, that the essence of your self is completely empty, and
that because the essential self is empty it has the unlimited
ability to become anything. The expression in the Prajna-Paramita
Sutra, "Form is emptiness," refers to this reality; it is neither a
thought nor a concept. When you reach this point, there is no fear
of losing the "ox" anymore.
However, the world of dualism that you have become accustomed to so
long is a very comfortable world in which to live. The true ox that
is completely empty of substance, before you are able to come to
know it, separates off and becomes the slave of its surroundings.
It becomes buried and is unable to free itself. That part of us
which is attached to the old world of dualism is not only very
stubborn but also has the tendency to soon get out of control. So,
in one way or another you cannot help but thinking there is an
objective world outside of yourself. If you understand that from
the beginning the essence of your self is empty [shinku], you
should also be able to see that the objective world is also empty
[hokku]. But in reality, things do not go so easily. In order to
further make the world of hokku(world as empty) clear you must work
and practice harder and harder. Once you have taken hold of ninku
(self as empty) and hokku (world as empty), then for the first time
the world of truly "seizing the ox" becomes apparent: the whole
universes is only one person, so that "above and under heaven there
is only I, alone and sublime."
Now we can appreciate the verse of Master
Kakuan:
You have exhausted all your faculties to take hold of
him.
ecause you found the true ox ("seeing the ox"), you were overjoyed
and encouraged a hundredfold. Then, you were further inspired to
try to actually grasp the ox with your hands. As a result of this
long and persistent pursuit, you were finally able to seize the
nostrils of the ox.
Because his spirit is strong and his strength abundant,
it is difficult to rid him of his habits.
But once you grasp this true ox, you find that its habit of seeking
the discrimination of dualism remains strong. You put yourself
forward everywhere, see the other as other, and are taken up in
that world of discrimination. There is danger that those very reins
holding the ox, by which you have gone to the trouble to make clear
the world of emptiness, will be severed. The bad habit of opposing
self and other, because it has perjured over such a long period,
does not easily change even though you have understood emptiness.
Therefore you must more and more throw yourself into the practice
of Zazen.
Sometimes he goes to the top of the high plain.
Let me elucidate that state of not being able to change. At some
time, even though it is just for a moment, standing at the pinnacle
of "seizing the ox," you linger in the world of emptiness and
become attached to the world where - as a famous phrase goes -
"there are no living beings to be saved, even if you should want to
save them." You boast that "no one has had as deep an enlightenment
as I." When your heart is seized by this state, the freedom of mind
and action no longer exists. Surely, it is few that have actually
experienced such a thorough emptiness, and certainly the joy of
having experienced that world is without comparison. But to become
attached to that world leads to self-complacency; a person
afflicted with Zen sickness like this is nothing but a white
elephant that is completely useless for saving other living
beings.
Other times he resides in clouds and smoke.
Another facet which is difficult to eradicate is the tendency to
return quickly to the world of dualism - the makyô [delusive
fantasy] which spreads so easily like a smoke screen. From there it
is very hard to escape again. Because the self-consciousness that
"I have attained an enlightenment which others couldn't" has become
so strong, such a person is, on the contrary, more stubborn than
those who have not attained enlightenment. Such people put
themselves forward more strongly, and reach a state which is beyond
help. Undoubtedly there were some cases like this in the past
because there is an ancient term "arrogant Zen-devil" [zen-tenma]
to warn against just such a state. To avoid that pitfall, you must,
after reaching enlightenment, become more and more humble and put
yourself more into Zen practice.
-----------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 5
TAMING THE OX

Once you have reached the point of "seizing" the ox, which is the
true self, you must not rest on your laurels but continue to
practice with all your strength and go on to the next stage. It is
the stage of taming the ox, a very important process by which you
make your own that which has been realized. As I mentioned
previously, seizing the ox is grasping clearly the fact that the
essence of your self is completely empty [ninku] and at the same
time all beings in the universe are also completely empty [hokku].
But to have attained such an enlightenment does not mean that our
concepts and delusions automatically all disappear. With the
re-appearance of just a minor conceptualization, the delusive
concepts come back again one after another without end. In fact, it
is the case that the clearer your experience of seizing the ox, the
harder it is to escape the delusion of having understood this whole
world and to avoid the proud thoughts which ensue one after
another. You boast of the experience, talk proudly of Zen, and fall
prey to the reckless desire to want to direct and lead
others.
Of course, if you should ask what is the essence of these delusive
and discriminatory thoughts that arise continually, know that they
are in themselves empty and without reality. If you can really rest
assured in that fact, each of them, one by one, becomes the true
self as it is. But we humans, unfortunately, always cling to what
we have experienced and have the habit of not letting go. This is
especially true in the case of the seizing of the ox, a feat that
most people have a difficult time achieving. Once we have made it,
we boast that no one has had such a wonderful experience. We cling
to the delusive and proud thoughts that arise one after another,
such as, "Perhaps even Shakyamuni Buddha himself did not have such
an experience as I." And these thoughts themselves become a new
reason for delusion.
We always can see only the oppositional world of dualism, subject
and object, but the concept that the objective world "is" appears
not because the objective world is really there. Only because in
our hearts we recognize "The objective world is," it is. This means
that this "is-ness" is, in reality, only in our mind. Therefore,
there arises in the mind the idea of "I" which has experienced
seizing the ox, so the world corresponding to that "I" also
appears, with the result that the objective world is conjured up by
the proud "I". In the true world of seizing the ox, the objective
world as well as the subjective world is totally empty; there is no
room for being and non-being to appear at all. To be always at rest
securely in such a world, it is necessary by all means to put the
halter through the nose of the ox and pull it firmly. If the ox
starts to eat the grass of discriminatory delusion, tell him "No,
no!", never neglecting the due training, and continue in hard
practice to the end. The practical means to that end is that single
sharp spear, MU. This is the practice for post-enlightenment, and
you must say that, in a sense, it is endlessly more difficult than
the pre-enlightenment practice.
Let's now look at the verse of Master Kakuan:
Occasional whipping does not depart from the
body.
The stage of taming the ox is one in which you must make the utmost
effort to bring under control as far as possible the ox you have
seized. For that purpose you must never let the whip or the halter
get away from your self.
Lest he follow his own whim, entering the dust and
dirt.
If you don't take such precautions, without fail the ox will go off
on its own and will enter that world of discrimination full of dust
and dirt. It goes without saying that this applies to the secular
world in which it was so much at home before, but it also wants to
go into that world of enlightenment (seizing the ox), and it is not
easy for it to come out from there again.
If you devotedly tame him, he will be pure and
gentle.
To "devotedly tame him" means that if you really become serious and
keep taming the ox, your heart gradually softens and becomes pure.
This is a very important process. Having your experience approved,
and coming to the stage of seizing the ox, an experience which most
people have a hard time achieving, you come, by and by, to think
greatly of yourself, and without noticing, you become proud of
yourself. It is only through strenuous sitting and continual
training that the heart gradually becomes gentle, and the
physiognomy becomes mellow, and the former harsh way of speaking
drops away. If this does not happen, it is not the true effect of
Zen.
Without bridle and chains, he will follow you of his own
accord.
Once the ox has become tamed, even if you do not attach the bridle
or chains, the ox naturally starts to follow. Therefore, standing,
sitting, crying, laughing, the true ox always
remains.
------------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 6
RIDING THE OX HOME

As the title says, this is the stage in which you get on the ox and
ride it home. It is the fruit of the previous stage of taming the
ox, and it is that stage in which at last the ox follows what it is
told.
In the stage of seizing the ox, you were able to grasp your true
self. However, as is often said, if thoughts occur even a little,
other thoughts are soon to follow; you are then bothered by
thoughts which occur one after another. Especially the thought that
you have achieved a great enlightenment rarely attained by others,
gradually without your noticing it, becomes a source of pride which
is difficult to dispel. Therefore, you try to tame this ox by
fighting strongly against such a thought, saying to yourself: "This
is not enough, this is not enough." Now this effort at taming the
ox has brought results, and the struggle is over at last. By that I
mean that you have recognized that the substance of
unenlightened/enlightened, ordinary/holy, good/bad, gain/loss is
empty and that accordingly the wall between
unenlightened/enlightened, ordinary/holy, good/bad, gain/loss has
disappeared.
And so just as the lumberjack hums a country melody or children
innocently play their children's tunes on their flutes, so too does
such a person enter a state of true freedom without any blocks.
From the standpoint of the ordinary person it is indeed an enviable
state. This state in which the ox (your true self) does exactly
what it is told,is like being able to lie down leisurely and watch
the clouds in the sky move gently here and
there.
Even if you try to call the ox back,it does not look back. Even if
you try to grab it and to lock it up, it would not stop. Letting
things run their course, day by day, hour by hour, doing what
should be done, you go along without any
hindrances.
This is truly a wonderful state. However, there is here a big trap.
That is because there is an ox which is walking along smoothly on
its own and a self which is looking at that ox. And that self is
happy, gazing at the ox (the true self) and thinking how gentle it
has become. Your state has become so comfortable. You proclaim that
you have reached a wonderful state. And those who hear that admire
it as something worthy. But they also think that such a person must
be special, and they feel no urge to try zazen. The result is a
completely useless Zen, certified by only your self. But once you
have come this far, you must urge yourself on further by the motto,
"Practice another 30 years," and sit and sit and polish the
self.
Now let's look at Master Kakuan's verse:
You mount the ox and want to make your way slowly
home.
The word for "slowly" [iri] in the original text refers to
something connected and stretching for some distance. Here you have
mounted the ox, which is your true self, and is slowly proceeding
to return to your native village with no end yet in sight. "Wanting
to make your way" means that you are trying to return, but it also
implies that you are not being able to do that. What keeps you from
coming back? It is because there is a self, which is looking at the
ox.
A barbarian plays the flute in the red glow of
sunset.
"A barbarian" [kyô] refers to a foreign tribe living in the
northwest of China. The sound of a flute played by someone in this
tribe salutes the sunset note by note. It can be heard so clearly.
But that flute, like the sound of a foreigner playing in a strange
land, brings a tinge of melancholy.
Each measure, each tune is filled with ineffable
tones.
That is true, but, in each song and each note, there is an infinite
savoring. That is so because in every clap of the hands, or every
footstep, or in each blade of grass, the true self is at work. You
are able to experience directly these things without logical
thinking and manipulation of concepts.
Among true intimates, what need is there for
words?
But what really is that like, you may ask. In ancient China there
were two friends, Hakuga and Chôshiki. Hakuga was a master of the
Chinese lute. When Hakuga played the lute, Chôshiki would discern
the state of his mind and his disposition by listening carefully to
the sound and the tone. So it is not always necessary to verbalize
what is within. There is a way of understanding perfectly while
being silent.
It is not easy to reach this state. However, this close friend,
that is to say, the ox, which without saying or proclaiming
anything, is always still there. Because this state is pleasant and
happy, the sickness of clinging by all means to this experience
appears. This is the innate weakness of human nature. And little by
little, unawares, you fall into this way of thinking. This stage is
only the sixth stage, and you should know that you are still "on
the way."
--------------------------------------
Ten Ox-herding Pictures
Stage 7
OX FORGOTTEN,
PERSON REMAINING

In the stages of the practice of the Buddhist way we have at last
reached the seventh stage, "forgetting the ox." It goes without
saying that the ox refers to what may be called the original self
or the true self. It is Mu which all of you are looking for. This
is the stage of forgetting the ox. But what does it mean to "forget
the ox"?
We began our practice by seeking the ox. We discovered the ox
(catching sight of the ox), took hold of the ox (seizing the ox),
brought the ox under control (taming the ox), and have been
training the ox to do, to a certain degree, what it is told (riding
the ox home). In this process you have handled many koans, knowing
the joy of passing them as well as the pain and anxiety of not
getting through them.
When you seek in such a thorough fashion the true self (the ox),
that self which is doing the seeking disappears, and only the true
self remains. More exactly, you enter the world in which the true
self also does not come into consciousness. This is truly that
world in which you have forgotten the self completely, a world of
complete emptiness, "without even a wisp of cloud to obstruct your
vision" [manako ni sayuru kumonohamo nashi].
Were you to compare this world to something concrete, you might
think about extracting pure gold from base ore. It is totally pure
and without blemish. The whole universe is pure gold. The ore from
which you extracted the gold, the tools you used to extract the
gold are all gone. Or again, it is just like the moon moving apart
from the clouds and shining in the fullness of the heavens
completely white. The whole world is a world in which there is only
the moon with no clouds at all. The sublimity of a world completely
void is beyond verbal expression. It is a world which can only be
savored by actual experience.
When you arrive at this point, the koans with which you have
struggled and labored become completely useless [kankagu:
"unnecessary pieces of furniture"]. However there is always room
for greater attainment. At this stage there still remains as a
residue [kasu] the self-consciousness that this world is without
any substance. That is the aspect of this stage expressed as zainin
("the person remains"). YAMADA Kôun Roshi has expressed his own
experience in the following way:
"In terms of my own experience, for about a week after my
enlightenment it seemed as if my whole body was trembling. And like
a fish put in to the water to swim, I was able to live without any
hindrance. I felt very free and happy. However, that did not
continue long. After about 10 days or a month, the self appeared
again. It was not so much the consciousness of the egoistic
possessive ego, but rather the consciousness of the self. You are
conscious of the self. That remains."
In my case I realized that koans were totally "unnecessary
furniture," and for a while I felt that doing koans was completely
foolish; as I remember, the self-consciousness that the thinking
self was there continued for quite a long time. This is not yet the
real thing.
Let's now go on to Master Kakuan's verse:
You have mounted the ox
and already reached your home in the mountains.
In the verse on the sixth Picture ("riding the ox home.") it was
said, "You mount the ox and want to make your way slowly home." The
words "want to" convey the meaning that you try to go home but
can't. And why is that? I said it was because there is still a self
which is looking at the ox. When you do away with this self which
is doing the looking, you actually understand that you have already
reached home. I want you all to really grasp how important it is to
have had the experience once of thoroughly forgetting the
self.
The ox is gone and the person has nothing more to
do.
Both the ox to be sought (the true self) and the seeker also are
totally void and empty of content. Once this is understood, the ox
and the seeker are totally one. We could say, "When you stop
seeking, the whole thing appears." The world in which there is no
one and no thing manifests itself clearly and vividly before your
eyes. It surely expresses the spirit of "the leisurely person of
the Way, who, having finished learning, has nothing more to do"
[zetsugaku mui no kandônin - a quote from the
Shôdôka].
Though the morning sun has already risen three bamboo
lengths,
he dreams on.
Absolutely nothing more to do! Even though the bright red sun
climbs in the sky as high as "three bamboo lengths," you are still
in dreams and sleeping. This attests to the level of realization at
which the entire universe is intrinsically safe and
sound.
The whip and the halter, no longer of use, are hung up in the
stall.
Accordingly, the whip and halter used to control the ox are not
needed any more. They are left alone at a corner of the hut where
the grass is growing. Formerly, with a great effort using the whip
and binding with the halter you trained the ox. But now that is
completely unnecessary. Yet there can be no slackening of effort!
There is still that self-consciousness of the self that "no longer
needs to train the ox."