Roshi read from Case 27 of the Blue Cliff Record, starting with a pointer preceding this short kōan.

 

Ask one, answer ten. Raise one, understand three.

Seeing the rabbit he lets loose the falcon. He uses the wind to fan the flame; he doesn’t spare his eyebrows. 

This I leave aside for the moment. How is it when entering the tiger’s lair? 

To test, I’m citing this old case. Look!

 

The case is this:

 

A monk asked Yun Men, “How is it when the tree withers and the leaves fall?” 

Yun Men said, “Body exposed in the golden wind.”

 

Roshi also shared the notes on this case. 

 

(Line 1) What season is this? When the family breaks up, the people perish; when the people perish, the family breaks up.

(Line 2) He holds up the sky and supports the earth. He cuts nails and shears through iron. Clean and naked, bare and purified. Walking with even steps through the blue sky.

 

This style of kōan falls into the category of “a question that tests the host.” In this case, “How is it when the tree withers and the leaves fall?” is the question posed to the host, Yun Men.

 

Reflecting on the power of this kōan, Roshi compared it to the process of preparing for Jukai-e. The words of the precepts are simple at first glance, and their meanings are obvious. That is, until you unwrap each one, and each one opens up more and more meaning, and it becomes clear that they are not obvious at all. There is no definitive meaning for the vow, it is only a path that we commit to.

 

Roshi also compared it to an image from the science-fiction series 3 Body Problem. In this series, an alien species has mastered the technology of dimensionality, and have folded a massive computer down to the size of a single particle. Sending the particle-sized computer across the galaxy, it arrives at the Earth, where it unpacks to a huge size, covering the entire planet. Similarly, when we examine the vows they start out as simple as a particles, but unpacking them opens more and more in a process that never ends.

 

Being a bodhisattva is a process. It is about following a path, not becoming a thing. This is why the vows are not definitive.

 

Roshi gave another illustration: when we say “dharma gates are boundless,” how does that make sense? Many words have been written and spoken about the dharma, but it is a finite number. How can it be boundless?

 

Because all of these teachings, all of these words, open up endlessly. The dharma opens up into a universe that is much larger than we see at first.

 

So when the monk asks Yun Men “what happens in a world of negative consequences?”, Yun Men can barely entertain the question. He responds, in essence: “what do you lack right now in your life to be completely happy, to be content, to be enlightened?” 

 

The monk’s question is beyond comprehension, because nothing is lacking. There is nothing we can be or say or do to make us complete, because we are already complete. 

 

When we see how our view of our lives, and of the world, has been limited by attachments and boundaries and definitions, everything opens up. This is what Yun Men is saying. Existence is perfect and vast beyond imagination.

 

We are completely exposed in the power of the universe, in the golden wind. 

 

Taisho graciously prepared this week by Tom Ragle