Ten Bulls of Zen in Animation 十牛図アニメ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDW9AyxajAI

Ten Poems: Bull by Bull

I.              Tramping through tall grass

In search of the ox—river

Bluffs, foothills, far mountains

Weary of distances, roads

Fading strength, traces of ox

II.            Among bankside reeds

Muddy tracks trailing out path

Rich fragrant grassland

Range of remote mountains

Clear and big as bluest sky

III.           Breeze in the willows

Green song of warbler warm sun

Ox drinking from stream

IV.         Horns bent the ox caught

With will and strength struggling on

Into gullies of mist

V.           Tether, whip in hand

Keeps the ox from straying off

Down dusty roads

Patient miles, gentle prodding

The ox follows and obeys

VI.         Now atop the ox

Flute drawn charmed melody

Riding in one rhythm

VII.        Borne by the ox home

Blissful dawn greeting thatched hut

At peace

VIII.      Untethered ox rider

One and the same, united

Big as sun and sky

Snowflakes cold in hottest fires

Welcome house of ancestors

IX.          Root and source, the way

A journey homeward, true self

A tranquil river

With and without, flowing back

Where crimson flowers deepen

X.            Passing barefoot

Through the dust and crowds

Joy and the world bloom

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To Young Monks and Laymen 古仙 庵庵庵

Close your eyes. 

Now open them.

Do you see something?

Close your eyes.

Do you see something?

Now open them.

Do you see something different?

You are free. Look with your heart, 

sun of suns within everything, 

shining free. Blink if you understand.

Now your eyes are open.

Your eyes are not your eyes.

You understand: the universe blinks.

The universe is breathing through you.

When you sleep, you breathe.

Now you are awake.

Now your eyes are open.

The universe is breathing through you.

Breath you can hear.

Heart you can feel.

Now you know you are awake.

Breath, heart, existence.

Now you know you are free.

Free from anger. Life is a gift,

sun of suns within everything.

What is there to be angry about?

You are free. Live your life.

Remember all life is a gift. 

Be kind and loving.

Free from greed. Life is a gift,

sun of suns within everything.

What is there to be greedy about?

You are free. You have your life.

Remember all life is precious.

Share your light, warm and generous.

Breath, heart, existence—

kind and warm,

loving and generous.

Life is a gift,

sun of suns within everything.

Universe of unbounded blessings.

Share your light.

Light opens the eyes of others.

Star upon star upon star shining

universe of unbounded blessings.

Do you see something different?

In stargazers

In bulbs of amaryllis

In beautiful day—hope 

Hope

A little prayer

Clear the way

Field of blessings

White lotus comes up from mud

kuan-kuan

Beginnings 

Everywhere

This morning

Birdseed

Nourishes many

Thriving where it falls

Between the words

Between these farthest mountains

I step among pines

Birds fly, fish swim,

Bind grasses to build a hut

By green mountain stream

Hermit of the hills

Pinecone fire hissing kettle

So very dear

Noonday sun

In pooling stream trout

Leave no trace

Under a tall pine

Solitary peaceful one

Knobby legs crossed

Patch of shade

Patch of sun

Joy of living

The frog splashes into the pond.

The fish splashes in the pond.

The frog is not a fish.

The fish is not a frog.

The splash is not a splash.

The splash is the pond.

The frog is the pond.

The fish is the pond.

You are the pond.

You are the splash.

There is no splash.

Only leap.

There is no pond.

Only leap.

There is no inside.

There is no outside.

Only leap…leaping time,

leaping birth, leaping death,

leaping clear. 

Thusness,

penetrating body and mind,

things as they are.

Body and mind

nonthinking,

leaving the way to the way.

This very moment.

Live joyously

with kindness and gratitude.

How truly rare this gift of life.

Treasure.

Love does not exclude loving,

its greatness is what colors the seasons—

green youth to white hair.

Joy of living. Active and serene.

Sleeves tied back, strain the rice.

Working means giving, giving is receiving.

Cultivate virtue where you are.

Cook warmheartedly

Bowing nine times to guests

Resonant treasure

Love

Loving

Plainly

Over a good meal
The flowers you planted
Come up

How truly rare this gift of life.

Limitless. This very moment.

Bite of rice on a spoon.

Bite of rice eaten.

Rainwater

Rice bowl pond

Full moon

Such nourishment.

What is the price of rice?

Share your gift.

Bees
In the air
Flowers in the heart

So very dear

All things, far and near, all things

So very dear

Loving

Differences

Without difference

Letting go

Without indifference

Body

Already a corpse

What good is it?

Weightless 

A single apple blossom

Touches the earth

Keyhole

In the clouds

Shape of the moon

Take this body

This bundle of burdens

Down to the river

Giving all to the current

Returning fresh, clean, and strong

You in

The river

In you

Float 

Flow

Without a bundle

Go

Help out, help in

Gain

Loss

Mountain and river

Gold

Dust

Happy and alive

What a miracle

Now, the third thing

Looking in

Looking out

One face

Peace 

Heard around the world

quiet as rice

Ordinary mind

Everyday reverence

Missing something?

Silent sky

Calm brow

Deep Valley

Morning

Breath

Beautiful gift

Intentions

Make these marks

Meaningful

Excuses

Answer

May you have long days

Witness
Plum
Purple on the tree


Turtle pond
Mosquitoes
Slow morning

Mating birds
Tender
Throat

Cicadas
Drifting
Hush

Old cricket
New moon
Gentle sleep

Midnight special
Spanish moss
Sound of the sea

Coolness
After rain
Toadstools

The Geango Verses of Old Hermit Badpenny 古仙 庵庵庵

なむあみだぶつ 
Namu Amida Butsu


Coming from the West                                           

Like a tropic wind, chuffing                                                           

Scraggly-mane lion

Old Hermit Badpenny himself                                                      

Sun-weathered out of the blue

Unhurried lion

Bellyful of digested sheep

A perfect wonder

The world is vast and wide.

                                                                                                              

Settled by the Third Khandaka,

a period of rest and residence

during the rainy season was 

customary for itinerant Buddhist

monks and priests—this period

began the 16^thday of the 4^thlunar

month and ended the 15^thday of 

the 7^thlunar month, corresponding

to a period of roughly 12 weeks

from mid-May to mid-August known

as the summer retreat.

It was a time to seek out new                       

teachers, see old friends, make                                       

new ones, and most importantly                                  

reflect on one’s own path—

the Way, Ch’an.                                                                             

    

Traveling alone from India,

Bodhidharma brought Ch’an                                                           

Buddhism to China in the late                                                        

5^thcentury. However, Ch’an                                                            

Buddhism would not flourish                                                  

in China for another 200 years.                           

Buddhism had spread to Japan 

by way of Korea, but it was not

until around 1200 that Ch’an,

known as Zen, became a distinct

school recognizing Bodhidharma,

called Daruma, as its founder.

There is a notable portrait of

Bodhidharma painted by Japanese

Zen monk Sesson Shukei simply

titled Daruma from the 1500s.

There is, in the British Museum,

a very similar portrait once 

thought to be a Sesson but now

regarded as a fake.

side by side                                                                                            

Daruma Daruma eye                                           

no birth, no death                                                     

Two views. One face. One truth.

Well Come!                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                   

Old Hermit Badpenny spends the

rainy season at his home Hermitage

Hermitage, so named because it is

easy to remember and easy to forget.

Hut like an acorn

Heart strong like an oak, weathered

Straw hat and raincoat

No coming. No going. No visitors.

In this rain, a bowl of hot tea

would be nice. Rainwater makes

especially good tea too. Clouds

like bees collecting nectar here

and there—drops sweet as honey.

Each drop falling nowhere else.

Falling on you.

In my hut no coins are kept.                                                                   

                                                     

Have a cup of tea—                                                           

You cannot acquire what you have 

Not tasted                                                                                       

                                                               

Boiled egg                                                                    

In a jar of vinegar—                                                                       

Eat it with salt

Rujing said sit. With stillness,                                                             

many things become clear.

                                                                                                              

Rainy season

Mosses round roots thick and green

Trackless path of birds

Like a reflection dissolved by

ripples of a single raindrop:

Two views. One face. One truth.

Like the seasons, the sound                                   

of the bell notes the time,                                       

summoning monks to meditation.                                                     

Each monk meditating on the same                      

thing in his own way.                                                                      

                                                         

Clear the way—individuals                                                            

in greater unity. Chanting—                

individuals in higher harmony.

                                                             

Fireflies dusk stars dawn                                      

Such blessings deep in our hearts                                    

Sound as temple bell

The sound of the bell and the echo.   

Two views. One face.

The sound of one hand.

One slapping truth.

     

No coming. No going.

Going and coming

I expect no visitors

Only a great wind

The rainy season is long and muddy.                                

Clouds and waters, swelling and growing,                      

flowers bud,                                                      

flowers bloom without complaint.

                                                                           

31 Syllables on Suffering 

                      

Gone, gone beyond, gone

Altogether gone beyond—                                             

A wakened flower!

Posy form emptiness form                                                          

A flower I present you

Mountainside slopes wild

with azaleas. Thousands

of flowers. One mountain.

Thousands of faces. One people.

     

Your face. Face of a stranger.

One face. Two views. One truth.

       

The world is vast and wide—

All in this mustard seed.

   

zen-ji-go-ji: you hold dear treasure

  

So very dear

Mustard seed flowering

Mudra of mountain

zen-ji-go-ji: I keep no coins in my hut.                                       

Hold dear your treasure                                                          

with open hands. Moment

to moment falling nowhere else.                                               

I have listened to rain                                                                   

Touching wisps serenade                                                           

Ravaging ages                                                                   

All my life I listened to rain                 

Shaping these mountains into hearts                               

Moments are fleeting and lasting…

Your face. Face of a stranger.                                                              

Moment to moment falling.

Let kindnesses fall nowhere else.

   

Having nothing, yet possessing all—

All in this mustard seed.

       

So very dear

Humility binds, frees all,

Each, every—one                

Nothing above nor below

Breath, light, goodwill, peace—float

                                                                                                               

So very dear

Knell of gratitude, hills

Echoing—hope hope

So very dear                                                                                   

Beginning of a sweetness                                              

Rays sweet, warming sun                                                        

Rainy seasons come and go.                                                       

In clear, clean light                                                                      

Matters of everyday life                                                           

So very dear                                                       

Flowers bloom without complaint.                                         

Clutter your mind with abundant

blossoms and luxuriant flowers.

                                                                                         

So very dear                                                            

Sermon of the flowers                                                           

Beauty beyond sense

                                                                

I did not hold up a flower.   

Everything delivers a sermon

from its true nature and that

sermon is ordinary mind.

                                                                                                              

Everyday reverence.

       

So very dear

Forehead of the sun touching

Your own forehead

Cherished temples, very dear

Touching foreheads with the sun

Home in world and wild

Living stones thrive with water

Rocks need tea and rice

     

Having had the rice, I am ready for a   

leisurely nap.

No coming. No going.                                                                   

So very dear                                                                    

Roads that know me as I am                                                  

Walking                                                                                    

With heart full—                                                       

Lying on the ground                                        

See Old Hermit Badpenny                                                    

Wishing you good luck

                                               

The incense stick is gone,                                           

but the fragrance lingers.

Sitting long and getting tired,

another cup of tea would be nice.

Maybe you acquired the taste.

If not, try standing in the rain. 

Purify your mind.

Buddha spoke the words “so much”

to someone standing silently before

him. With that the great mercy and

compassion of the world honored one

led to realization.

     

Startled geese rising

Ten thousand things disappear

In a sloping glance

The clap of the bell                                                 

Shakes to earth dewdrops like chains                      

Breaking with the dawn                                          

Longevity

Simple wildflowers                           

Incense, palms together, mind                                         

At ease, calm, peaceful…                                                

That is what I heard:  worry,                                                           

Wrath, suffering, early death.


So very dear

Old Hermit Badpenny himself

Nodding and laughing

Eccentric at heart

Himself Old Hermit Badpenny

                                                                      

Hermit of the hills

Everywhere you are is true

Gold and yellow leaves

      

The world is vast and wide.

                                                                                                              

Thinking on Jeta Grove, Fifth month

of the First year of Genko [1331].

Moon as it is, rivers flood sky.