Zen Stories

19.  The First Principle
When one goes to Obaku temple in Kyoto one sees carved over the gate the words ' The First principle '. The letters are unusually large, and those who appreciate calligraphy always admire them as being a masterpiece. They were drawn by Kosen two hundred years ago.

When the master drew them he did so on paper, from which workmen made the larger carving in wood. As Kosen sketched the letters a bold pupil was with him who had made several gallons of ink for the calligraphy and who never failed to criticize his master's work.
That is not good,' he told Kosen after the first effort.
'How is that one?'
'Poor. Worse than before,' pronounced the pupil.

Kosen patiently wrote one sheet after another until eighty-four First Principles had accumulated, still without the approval of the pupil. Then, when the young man stepped outside for a few moments, Kosen thought: 'Now is my chance to escape his keen eye,' and he wrote hurriedly, with a mind free from distraction: ‘The First principle.'
'A masterpiece,' pronounced the pupil.

20.  A Mother's Advice
Jiun, a Shingon master, war a well-known Sanskrit scholar of the Tokugawa era. When he was young he used to deliver lectures to his brother students.

His mother heard about this and wrote him a letter: 'Son, I do not think you become a devotee of the Buddha because you desire to turn into a walking dictionary for others. There is no end to information and commentation, glory and honor. I wish you would stop this lecture business. Shut yourself up in a little temple in a remote part of the mountain. Devote your time to meditation and in this way attain hue realization.'


21.  The Sound of One Hand
The masts of Kennin temple was Mokurai, Silent Thunder. He had a little protégé named Toyo who was only twelve years old. Toyo saw the olds disciples visit the master's room each morning and evening to receive instruction in sanzen or personal guidance in which they were given koans to stop mind- wandering.
Toro wished to do sanzen also.
'Wait a while,' said Mokurai. 'You are too young.'

But the child insisted, so the teacher finally consented.
In the evening little Toyo went at the props time to the threshold of Mokurai's sanzen room. He struck the gong to announce his presence, bowed respectfully three times outside the door, and went to sit before the master in respectful silence.

'You can hear the sound of two hands when they clap together,' said Mokurai. ‘Now show me the sound of one hand.'

Toyo bowed and went to his room to consider this problem. From his window he could hear the music of the geishas. 'Ah, I have it!’ he proclaimed.
The next evening, when his teacher asked him to illustrate the sound of one hand, Toyo began to play the music of the geishas.
'No, no,' said Mokurai. That will never do. That is not the sound of one hand. You've not got it at all.'

Thinking that such music might interrupt, Toyo moved his abode to a quiet place. He meditated again. 'What can the sound of one hand be?' He happened to hear some water dripping. ‘I have it,' imagined Toyo.
When he next appeared before his teacher, Toyo imitated dripping water.
'What is that?' asked Mokurai. That is the sound of dripping water, but not the sound of one hand. Try again.'

In vain Toyo meditated to hear the sound of one hand.
He heard the sighing of the wind.
But the sound was rejected.
He heard the cry of an owl.
This also was refused.
The sound of one hand was not the locusts.

For more than ten times Toyo visited Mokurai with different sounds. All were wrong. For almost a year he pondered what the sound of one hand might be.
At last little Toyo entered true meditation
and transcended all sounds.
'I could collect no more,' he explained later.'
so I reached the soundless sound.'
Toyo had realized the sound of one hand.