Shifu designed the class with the ABC principle in mind: Acquire, Absorb, and Cultivate. The primary means of acquiring knowledge in this class is the lecture and the Class Reading. Every week, for eight weeks, Shifu will tell stories of Zen masters. For this very first course, they will all be Chinese Zen masters (“Chan masters”). Through lectures and this reading material, we will acquire knowledge about Zen. This is the part of the class where we hope to absorb and retain the teaching better. We do that primarily in two ways. One is through the organization of collaborative study groups. The second is by contemplation questions. Cultivate means to put the knowledge into practice. Shifu will suggest exercises to practice what we learn in this class in our daily lives. Let’s explore some topics. Shifu has prepared many Zen stories for the next few weeks, and we hope you’ll enjoy them. There are many Zen master stories, and I’m categorizing them. We’ll start with “Zen in daily life” in the first two classes this week and next week. Then, we’ll have two classes on “Directly pointing to the mind,” or “koans,” about the mind’s importance and awakening. The third topic is “Awakening by emptiness,” which covers different ways to achieve enlightenment, such as directly pointing to the mind, or understanding emptiness. We’ll spend just one class on the emptiness method. Next, we’ll explore “Strayed paths,” where we’ll see examples of mistakes made during spiritual practice. Then, we’ll have two classes on “Non-answers,” which involve dialogues between Zen masters or a master and a student. The dialogue may seem nonsensical, but it contains deep insights. This completes the eight classes. Shifu will open more courses on Zen stories in the future, and explore topics such as “selected Dharma teachings” and “the journey” of finding a teacher. There are many interesting topics to discuss. Now, we'll begin today's first of several stories related to Chan master (that is, Chinese Zen master), NanYang HuiZhong (南陽慧忠). We don't know when he was born, but he lived till 775 AD. That's almost 1300 years ago. Here's a brief account of his life. When he was young, he rarely spoke. He was quiet and mostly stayed in his house. He never even crossed the bridge in front of his house. He was interested in Buddhism at a very young age. Then when he was 16, he saw a Chan monk. (Chan is the Chinese word for Zen. Zen is the Japanese pronunciation of Chan.) So he immediately went across the bridge for the first time to exchange greetings, surprising his neighbors. He later became a monk, and at first studied the Vinaya, which is the Buddhist ethical conduct, as well as the Dharma, i.e., the Buddhist scriptures. However, when he heard of the great master, the Sixth Patriarch of Chan, Master HuiNeng (六祖慧能), he immediately went to practice with him. Master Huineng was (and still is) one of the most important Chinese Chan masters, with dozens of enlightened disciples. We will start with some of his disciples; Master Huineng was such a huge figure that he deserves a whole course dedicated to him. Back to our story, Huizhong was awakened and became one of Master Huineng’s five most important disciples. (We will encounter the other four later in this course). Now over the decades Master Huizhong was a consultant to three different Chinese emperors and he was honored as a “national teacher,” which means he was the emperor’s teacher on Buddhism, and the emperors were his disciples. So he is known as “National Teacher, Nanyang Huizong.” About his name: Nanyang is the mountain where he stayed. Of course, there was a monastery there. In the Chinese tradition, we sometimes call a master by the place that he stayed at. So we can refer to this master as Master Nanyang or Master Huizhong. Master Huizhong stayed at Mt. Nanyang for the last 40 years of his life. One day, Master HuiZhong called his attendant three times. Each time, the attendant responded promptly. After the third call, the master said, "Don't think that I was letting you down; actually, you are the one who has let me down." This is our first story. Master Huizhong called his attendant three times, and the attendant responded each time. The master said, “Don’t think I was letting you down. You’re the one who has let me down.” End of story. Many Zen stories, or koans, are short and puzzling. They often end while you’re waiting for something to happen. In the Western Buddhist world, These Zen stories are known as “koans”. Koan is the Japanese pronunciation of the Chinese term “gong-an (公案)”. Gong-an literally means “public record,” but in the Zen community, it refers to an event, story, or dialogue between masters or practitioners. These stories offer insights to spiritual practice and are recorded for that purpose. Buddhism came to China from India 2,000 years ago. It flourished in China and developed into different schools, all aiming for ultimate enlightenment. Chan Zong (禪 宗), Chan Buddhism, is noted for its unique teaching styles. Chan spread to Japan, Korea, Vietnam, and other places. In Japan, Chan became Zen because Japanese doesn’t have the “Chan” sound. Japanese Zen teachers introduced Chan to the West, calling it Zen. I’ll use Zen and Chan interchangeably, except I’ll often use “Chan monk” or “Chan master” to indicate a Chinese person. Now in this story “Don't let me down,” the master calls his attendant three times. Usually you call somebody to say something, for example, to give an instruction like “bring me some water”. But here, Master Huizhong didn't do any of that; he just called his name three times without saying anything, and then he said “you let me down.” What do you think is happening here? In order to understand this story better, I will first talk about “knowing” and “consciousness.” Now, Zen practice is all about the mind, understanding our mind. In fact, if we understand the true nature of our mind, that is equivalent to enlightenment, to awakening to the truth. One way to do this is to see the difference between knowing and consciousness. So what is consciousness? Consciousness in our Buddhist context refers to our regular everyday mind that perceives information, digests it, makes a judgment, compares, analyzes, has preferences, has likes and dislikes. And because we like certain things and dislike certain things, we have feelings about them. We get emotional sometimes. So feelings, emotions, judgment, analysis, comparison, all of that is in the realm of the consciousness part of the mind. But before your consciousness can do this processing, judging, comparison, feeling, etc., something else must happen first and that is “knowing.” Every single one of the events we experience begins with knowing, sometimes we use the term “pure awareness.” You must be aware of something. You must first have this awareness, this knowing. You must be capable of knowing something first. Now, this knowing can take place through your eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, right? Let's say you're sleeping, and the alarm clock goes off. That sound wakes you up, so you know there is a loud sound, and then you think about it, ah, time to get up. But when you think it is time to get up, that is already in the consciousness. Before you lie in bed trying to decide to get up now or get up five minutes later, you must first know that there is an alarm sound. You must first perceive that with your knowing. With every experience, there is first that “knowing”, that direct perceiving of information through our senses: light, darkness, colors, shapes, sound, smell, taste, and touch. This direct perception is followed by consciousness, which quickly assesses the situation. For instance, when drinking water, we perceive the water and our consciousness categorizes it as warm, hot, or cold, leading to a preference for ice water or a soft drink, even though you know about its sugar and additive content. Similarly, when tasting soup, we perceive its taste and decide whether we like or dislike it. In our story, when the master called the attendant three times, what happens? When someone calls your name, you first recognize it via “knowing”, and then realize he is calling you–this is the consciousness mind coming in. Then, the caller asks you to do something, like pass the salt or lend him some money. You make a judgment and decide not to lend him money. This is consciousness. When someone calls you, more words usually follow. Imagine the attendant recognizing the calling, and was waiting for further instructions from his shifu. The shifu does not give any instructions but calls his name again. What is going on? Here’s another hint: most people’s lives are trapped in their consciousness. Our judging mind determines the quality of our life. We perceive the world through judgments and discriminations. But the key to bliss is to transcend the duality of like and dislike and not be trapped in our own view of what’s good and bad. There’s something nondualistic within our mind that transcends this duality. It’s the knowing part of the mind, which exists before judgment and decision. The more we tune into this knowing part of the mind, the more we can rise above our biases and others’ biases. What do you think the master intended to teach his attendant? He aimed to help him awaken to his true mind’s nature. To grasp this, it’s crucial to connect with the knowing aspect of our mind, distinct from the conscious part. We’re familiar with the latter, which includes judgment, thinking, storing knowledge, recalling it, preferences, and likes/dislikes. However, how well do we know the power, potential, and serenity of the knowing mind? When the master called the attendant thrice without further instruction, what did he mean? He sought to help the attendant recognize this. He didn’t want the attendant to fall back into conscious judgment. We often judge people immediately. For instance, when meeting someone new, we form judgments. We might believe, “Everyone is equal. We should treat people equally.” However, it’s challenging to do this because we judge and we have bias. Can we see a person without bias? Yes, connect with the knowing mind and refrain from judging quickly. Now here’s an exercise for you: How soon do you begin to judge, after perceiving something? We see a flower, we see a car, we see a person, we hear some music, we hear some words. How soon do you think we start judging? Shifu previously lectured on “Knowing, Consciousness, Awareness, and Mindfulness” (available on our YouTube channel). We’ll continue to explore this subtle and sublime part of our mind called the knowing, always present in every experience but non-judgmental. It’s the Pure Mind, transcending the duality of pure and impure. Before moving on, let’s discuss letting people down. The master meant to teach his student three times, but he didn’t get it. This happens to us, right? Has it ever occurred to you that someone tried to teach you something valuable, but you were too dense to realize it? Sometimes, years later, you look back and finally understand. So how can we be more mindful so we don’t miss such opportunities? Something to think about. A related issue is feeling like you’ve let someone down, like a parent, teacher, or boss. Imagine how the attendant felt when he heard this from his master. I have felt that way when practicing with Grand Master Wei Jue. He’d directly point at me and say, “You really messed up.” How do you deal with that maturely? We can discuss this and share our thoughts. A monk visited HuiZhong and mentioned lecturing on the Diamond Sutra. The master asked, "What are the first two words?" The monk replied, "Thus (如是)." The master then asked, "What is 'thus'?" The monk was silent. Let’s examine the second story: “Thus have I heard”, again with master NanYang HuiZhong. As he is the national teacher, many from afar sought his teachings. One day, a monk visited him. The master asked, “What do you do?” The monk replied, “I lecture on the Diamond Sutra.” He was not just an ordinary monk but a Dharma master teaching the profound Diamond Sutra scripture. The master then asked, “What are the first two words of the Diamond Sutra?” If you’ve read Buddhist scriptures, you’ll understand this question is peculiar. Most Buddhist scriptures begin with “Thus have I heard”. This phrase is then followed by lines that introduces the Buddha’s presence at a specific place or monastery, accompanied by disciples like Shariputra, Shubuti, or Ananda. So, “Thus Have I Heard” is an opening for most sutras. When the Buddha entered parinirvana, that means he has left this worldly existence. His greatest disciples gathered in a mountain retreat to collect together his teachings, which became the Buddhist scriptures. Ananda, Buddha’s attendant for 25 years, had an exceptional memory and recalled all the Buddha’s teachings. He would ascend the seat and repeat the Buddha’s talks, with the other disciples verifying their accuracy. Ananda would begin by saying, “Thus Have I Heard,” emphasizing that he had not altered anything and had recited the Buddha’s exact words. A Dharma master who lectured on the Diamond Sutra surely would know that the Diamond Sutra is no exception and opened with “Thus have I heard”. So the visiting Dharma master answered, “Ru shi”, which is the Chinese translation for “thus”. He was likely irritated by the simple question to an expert such as himself. However, the master then asked, “What is ru shi?”, “What is ‘thus’?” What is “as is”? Now the vistor was silent. He did not have an answer. Now, to give you some context. One of the title of the Buddha, is tathagata, ru lai, “the thus-come one.” Which means Buddha is someone who comes as it is and goes as it is and acts as it is. What that means is that the Buddha sees the ultimate reality; hee never goes against it. He never preaches against it. What he says, the Buddha’s teaching, is the reality as it is, no more and no less. So “thus,” or suchness, ru shi, is actually a crucial concept in Buddhism. It is crucial in awakening, and it’s crucial in our lives too, don’t you think? When we try to complete a task, when we want have a good relationship with someone, isn’t it important to be honest, to be in touch with reality, and to avoid deception and misguided actions? So, Ru Shi, to have the vision to see everything as it is, is the greatest of all wisdom. For centuries, humans believed they could conquer nature with science and technology. When we didn’t like something in the environment, we suppressed, destroyed, or changed it. However, in the last 20-30-40 years, we realized this might be harmful. Some began to respect nature’s wisdom and made efforts to understand the consequences of our actions. People do foolish things when they don’t fully understand the consequences, which is why they aren’t “as is.” To be “as is,” one must understand how things unfold and the impacts of their actions. This is ru shi. The Dharma monk realized Master HuiZhong’s question was profound. He had lectured on the Diamond Sutra many times but had overlooked the depth of its profundity, reading “thus have I heard” on a superficial level, that it was simply Ananda announcing what he had heard from the Buddha. This is an important characteristic of Zen masters: they see the core, the essence of reality from plain, ordinary events. Now let’s have some fun. Humor can be part of many Zen stories. The previous two stories were profound and hopefully triggered contemplation, but this next one is just fun. At least on the surface. When Master DanXia came to visit Master HuiZhong, the master was napping. DanXia asked his attendant, "Is the National Teacher here?" The attendant replied, "He's here all right, but nobody can see him." Danxia responded, "Isn’t that profound!" The attendant said, "Even the Buddha couldn't see him, much less you, venerable." Danxia then said, "A dragon gives birth to a dragon, a phoenix gives birth to a phoenix." When the master awoke, the attendant reported this exchange. The master gave the attendant a beating of twenty strokes* and ordered him out. When Master Danxia heard of this, he remarked, "Now that is the National Teacher of NanYang!" *Note on beating a disciple: A Chan master may use a wooden stick to “beat” or “hit” a practitioner when he does something wrong, for example, dozing off during meditation. This is more of a symbolic gesture to alarm the practitioner and doesn’t actually hurt much. Corporal punishment is actually forbidden in monastic regulations. DanXia was another well-known Chan master. The attendant (we don’t know if this was the same attendant as in the first story), likely being proud of being a disciple of the National Teacher, was ready to have a “Zen combat” with the visiting master. So he thought, “I faced Master Dan Xia, and I had the upper hand. Aren’t you proud of me, Master? He even praised me “dragon’s son.’” How did he “win”? He “cleverly” used the incident that Master Huizhong is not to be seen, to play on the concept of emptiness. “Not even the Budha can see him!” This, in the attendant’s mind, elevated both his Master and himself, that with Master Huizhong’s advanced level of cultivation (he has realized emptiness, nobody can find a trace), and his own level (see, I understand emptiness, too!). In fact the attendant’s actions were very disrespectful, because a true cultivation does not show off and look down on others. Danxia immediately recognized the juvenile behavior, and gracefully responded with, “A dragon gave birth to a dragon, a phoenix gave birth to a phoenix.” Dragon and phoenix are auspicious and venerated mythical beasts in Chinese tradition. A dragon, or more correctly, a long (龍), ulike the western fire-breathing monster, is a powerful, respected (and occasionally feared) beast. A dragon is supposed to bring rain to the people, and so people love the dragon. So to say you have a child that is a dragon is a great compliment, that he’ll have great achievements. A phoenix is similar; when you call a girl a phoenix daughter, it is a high praise in a similar way but for a girl. The attendant failed to detect the sarcasm. And his master immediately recognized what’s going on and just threw him out. Since Master Danxia did not get to meet Master Huizhong, only his foolish attendant, the news of his reactions showed that Huizhong clearly knew what was happening. “Now, that is the national teacher.” That is a sincere praise. Another issue: “beating” a disciple is not meant to cause harm. In meditation halls, masters or monitoring monks may use a wooden stick to tap or hit meditators who are dozing off. This is to alert them and prevent them from falling asleep during meditation. The 20 blows are not a punishment but a form of instruction. Corporal punishment, physical punishment by force, is actually forbidden in a Buddhist monastery. Alright, so that was a fun story. Still, this story makes us reflect. For example, have you been proud of yourself for someone else’ achievements because you are associated with them? This is actually quite common; a disciple having an elevated view of himself because his shifu is well-known; a child acting arrogantly because his parents are rich, etc. Have we ever acted this way? Shifu encourages you to start a cultivation journal where you record valuable insights, knowledge, and questions about life. This journal serves as a repository for our spiritual journey findings. We’ll refer to the cultivation journal frequently throughout this class. So after hearing these three stories about Master HuiZhong, I have a question: what do you learn from him? What’s his personality? What’s his teaching style? Zen masters are known for their peculiar teaching methods to help students awaken to reality. Different styles suit different disciples. Sometimes, the teaching is given directly, like when Shifu explains what the Buddha means in a passage. Other times, we use questions to prompt students to think and figure things out. Chan masters often use indirect guidance. For example, when the master called the attendant three times, it wasn’t straightforward, but the act served as a teaching for more than a 1000 years. When the master asked the Dharma monk, “What are the first two words?” it was teaching by questioning, to bring attention to something students know only superficially.