Question
My understanding of “Mu” is that Mu is “not what is,” yet it means “nothing.”
So if I say “wave” aloud, I am right, but if I say “Mu” aloud, I am wrong, because we cannot speak of Mu.
Am I “right,” “wrong,” or “Mu”? If so, how do you know?
Anonymous
Master Kosen’s answer
Master Kosen explored this question during an autumn sesshin in November 1996. Here is the kusen he gave:
In Bussho, Buddha Nature, a chapter of Master
Dogen’s Shobogenzo, there is this mondo, which addresses a very important point and
represents for me the essence of Zen.
It is this famous koan, the best-known historical koan in Zen:
A monk asked Master Joshu, “Does a dog have Buddha
nature?”
In Chinese: “Mu.”
Joshu answered, “No.”
In Chinese: “Mu.”
The dog has long since died, but Master
Joshu’s answer remains.
Fortunately, this story was written in Chinese. If the answer
had only been “No,” it would not have become famous. But
mu in Chinese, especially the Mu uttered by Joshu, means
much more than no, even though it also means no.
“No” is one of the first words parents teach their
children and children learn to say. It is a word we
do not understand as babies. “No! Don’t touch that!"
"Why?"
"Do you love me?” “No. Mu.”
Our life, body, and existence are full of these contradictions. Masters did not invent them to play with words. We call these contradictions doors.
And the locks on these doors, to continue the image, are usually called koans. All masters have used koans, not only in Rinzai Zen. Koans are made up of our own limits. Masters did not invent them; human beings did. Each human being has locked themselves inside imaginary spaces of consciousness they can leave only by crossing the threshold. If you stick to your position, if you have a high opinion of yourself, you will never escape your space.
Master Mumon, or Unmon, or Unmen, depending on pronunciation, says of Joshu’s koan: “If you claim to want to practice Zen, you must pass through the barriers of your own limits. If you want to realize something, it is fundamental to cut the root of your own mind. If you cannot cut this root, you will remain like ghosts.”
What is this famous barrier, this threshold we must cross? It is simply understanding the profound meaning of Mu.
“In reality,” he says, “it is the barrier of faith. It is called the gateless barrier of the Zen tradition. If you pass through, you can speak directly and intimately with Joshu, and walk hand in hand with the ancestors and masters.”
In the Rinzai tradition, when you attend a sesshin like this one, you go to the master’s room and he gives you a koan.
He says, “What is Mu?”
You return to the dojo, sit in zazen, and must concentrate on “What is Mu?”
The Soto lineage does not disagree with the Rinzai lineage over koans. All Soto masters have also used and studied them. The disagreement concerns the method, the systematization of the koan method. This method tends to drive people completely crazy. If you are asked what Mu is and do not know, what good does thinking about it do? You might as well be asked, “What is gloup?” Through thinking about it so much, people sometimes create enormous tension within themselves. They reach a peculiar state close to hallucinogenic drugs mixed with a little amphetamine. They experience a certain sensation and say, “That must be Mu!”
Of course, what I am saying is a parody. We can also criticize certain faults of the Soto lineage. In reality, there is no difference. There are good masters and bad masters. Being Japanese and wearing a purple kolomo does not necessarily make them good. To tell the difference, avoid being deceived by appearances, not doubt the good or follow the bad, we must understand this koan: Mu.
Commenting on this mondo, Dogen says:
“The first thing to clarify is the meaning and scope of this question. If even a dog has Buddha nature, then any living being has this authentic nature.”
Then the question that comes to mind is always the same stupid question: what is the point of practicing? How are people who practice different from others? How long must we keep practicing, training, questioning ourselves? Even after years, even after satori, even after shiho, must we, just like beginners, keep training, surrendering ourselves, regretting our stupidity and human weakness, aspiring to the freedom and perfection of Buddha nature?
Hypocritically, this monk asked—perhaps comparing himself to a dog—whether even a dog, which takes such pleasure in sniffing turds, nevertheless has Buddha nature.
Joshu gave the answer you know. I think he was annoyed, that the monk annoyed him. He answered “No!” to piss him off, to throw him back on himself, even though we know perfectly well a dog has Buddha nature.
One might ask, “Am I the same person in ordinary life as during a sesshin?
What is the difference between a friend and a disciple? Can we become true monks while living a family life?”
To all these questions we can answer “Mu!” We can also answer “U!”
U is the opposite of mu; it means “exists,” “yes.” Mu means “does not exist,” “no.”
What interests us is whether the dog—or the cow—has Buddha nature. Can an ordinary person acquire a great dimension?
Extend the back of your neck well when practicing zazen, especially those who work at computers. Good posture is of the utmost importance. Strengthen your neck. Keeping balance is very difficult. Whatever work we do, it pollutes us.
For example, picking potatoes hurts the lower back; working with cement or masonry hurts the back; computers hurt the eyes; prostitution hurts the ass.
Work pollutes. Just as well, there is not enough for everyone.
There is no more work. Ultimately, we must look at the future realistically and positively. There is no more oil: what luck!
We will stop depleting the earth and polluting the atmosphere.
Only zazen depollutes. If we work reasonably, it is not a bad thing. We should do a little work or different kinds of work: four hours of intellectual work, three hours of physical work. Long live part-time work!
We are approaching the ideal society. We are approaching a time when humans could learn to live. All the old values have lost their meaning; the world is going crazy. Afterward, it will regain stability.
The best stability in life is what Zen calls gyoji, meaning a balance.
A master who was a friend of Master Deshimaru, Master Sivananda, used to recite a song or poem that said:
“Eat a little, sleep a little, work a little, exercise a little, and so on.”
In other words, find balance, a life that does not pollute. Have the possibility of changing: not always sitting, not always standing, not always lying down. Precisely, “Zazen,” says Master Dogen, “is neither sitting, standing, nor lying down.” It is neither work nor rest, neither thinking
nor not thinking, neither loving nor not loving.
How can we pass through this door and understand what is obvious?
Some people do not want to understand because they cling to their personalities. They think their personalities are tremendously important.
Of course, personality can be tremendously important as a means, but not as an end in itself. It is like money: money is very important as a
means; we can do something useful with it. We can perfectly well respect ourselves and at the same time attach no importance to our own opinions. As long as we do not let go of our opinions, we cannot understand a broader dimension; we drag our ordinary canine dimension into the world of buddhas.
Then we ask, “Does the dog also have Buddha nature?” and the master answers, “Mu!” “Is this guy crazy?!”
Mu is not no, not merely no; it is more than no. It is so much no that it cancels itself out. Dogen says, “Mu has the power to dissolve the hardest stone.”
Even if the question had been whether Buddha nature itself had Buddha nature, Joshu would have answered Mu to this particular monk. He is not answering a question; he is answering this monk.
The monk continues, asking Joshu, “How can all existences have Buddha nature, but not the dog?”
Master Dogen comments: “Indeed, after receiving this Mu right in the face, we are entitled to think no existence remains, neither Buddha nature nor the dog. We are entitled to wonder what sense it makes to deny these existences that do not exist.”
Joshu answers the monk: “This dog has no Buddha nature because it has karmic ignorance. Karmic ignorance manifests through this dog.”
Dogen analyzes: “The dog, Buddha nature, karmic ignorance: all of it is Mu. Karmic ignorance is nothing other than karmic ignorance, just as the dog is nothing other than the dog. How could a dog be equivalent to Buddha nature? In any case, believing in Buddha nature and believing in the dog, or not believing in Buddha nature and the dog, are only manifestations of karmic ignorance.
Karmic ignorance means attaching great importance to oneself and doubting Buddha nature.”
A Zen master never traveled without his bow and arrows. A great monk met him and asked, “Do you use your bow to kill people or save them?”
The master simply drew his bow once, twice, three times, without saying anything.
The monk prostrated himself once, twice, and three times.
The master said, “I have carried this bow around for thirty years, and only today have I hit the awakened disciple.”
I continue Master Dogen’s commentary on the dog’s koan. On another occasion, a monk asked Master Joshu the same question, but its deeper meaning was different,
simply because the disciple was i shin den shin with the master and asked the question deliberately.
It was therefore easy for Joshu to see that the Buddha nature in question here was no different from the one illuminating the world, buddhas, and patriarchs.
This time Joshu answered, “Yes.”
Again, do not make the mistake of thinking this yes is only the opposite of no.
In Chinese, mu means no and u means yes. Only through the dimension of Zen masters have these words taken on a deeper meaning. In Chinese, mu means “not,” “do not,” “there is no,” “I dunno what’s there.” U means “exists.”
Joshu’s yes is not an academic or Buddhist philosophical yes; it is not a Hinayanist yes clinging to Buddhist law as an eternal,
unchanging dogma. In a mondo, we answer a person. We must grasp the deep meaning of their mind and question. Joshu’s yes must be heard as the yes of true, living Buddhism, as Buddha’s own yes.
At that moment, the master’s eyes, the dog’s eyes, and Buddha’s eyes are the same.
The monk continued: “Master, you answer yes, but how does Buddha nature merge with, enter this skin bag that is the dog’s body? Does it manifest only at this moment, or has it already manifested in the past, or has the dog always had this nature?”
Joshu replied, “When Buddha nature manifests in the dog, the dog clearly and deliberately knows it is a dog."
"Buddhists long thought that being born as a dog resulted from clearly and deliberately committing bad actions. But here Joshu wants to express something much deeper: the dog knows it is a dog. Many remain skeptical on hearing this answer. But if you want to know the immortal within you, do not separate yourself from this skin bag. Whatever Buddha
nature may be, it has never been separate from the body.
Being aware of your defilement does not necessarily mean Buddha nature has
entered you. Nor can we make a rule that when this nature permeates us, we necessarily consciously feel defiled.
Awareness of our defilement is brought about within us by awareness of Buddha nature.
Understand that in this case, the dog’s awareness of its condition is caused by nothing less than the action of illumination.
It is this action of illumination that the words ‘manifests in the dog’ designate.”
In this study of Joshu’s dog’s koan, Master Dogen answers every question about true and false, the importance of the relationship between illumination and the body, the deepest satori, and the deepest meaning of Mu, the gateway to absolute freedom.
Do you realize that we human beings have absolute, unlimited possibilities? Everything is possible for us. We can even never die, never age; we can fly, go into every world, have every unimaginable magical power.
How? First, begin with a simple exercise.
Realize that this world of ours has every quality needed to be perfect. The only thing preventing it from being perfect, corrupting it, is our madness, human madness. The simple exercise for beginning to discover humanity’s astonishing possibilities is to try to stop being crazy and simply live happily. Stop sustaining false problems; become humble, sincere, honest; do not create complications; do not be
ashamed of who you are and what you feel. Even if we are not very good, we must begin by accepting ourselves humbly. Then we realize we are neither worse nor better than anyone else. As long as we hide our bad karma, we cannot get rid of it.
When the dog has Buddha nature, it simply realizes it is a dog. That is already something.
Kosen