Essays in Zen Buddhism · 66 of 66

The Ten Cow-Herding Pictures, Part 2

Catching the Cow. After getting lost long in the wilderness, he has at last found the cow and laid hand on her. But owing to the overwhelming pressure of the objective world, the cow is found hard to keep under control. She constantly longs for sweet grasses. The wild nature is still unruly, and altogether refuses to be broken in. If he wishes to have her completely in subjection, he ought to use the whip freely.

With the energy of his whole soul, he has at last taken hold of the cow: But how wild her will, ungovernable her power! At times she struts up a plateau, When lo! she is lost in a misty unpenetrable mountain-pass.

V face Herding the Cow. When a thought moves, another follows, and then another—there is thus awakened an endless train of thoughts. Through enlightenment all this turns into truth; but falsehood asserts itself when confusion prevails. Things oppress us not because of an objective world, but because of a self-deceiving mind. Do not get the nose-string loose, hold it tight, and allow yourself no indulgence.

Never let yourself be separated from the whip and the tether, Lest she should wander away into a world of defilement: When she is properly tended, she will grow pure and docile, Even without chain, nothing binding, she will by herself follow you.

VI face Coming Home on the Cow’s Back. The struggle is over; gain and loss, he is no more concerned with. He hums a rustic tune of the woodman, he sings simple songs of the village-boy. Saddling himself on the cow’s back, his eyes are fixed at things not of the earth, earthy. Even if he is called to, he will not turn his head; however enticed he will no more be kept back.

Riding the cow he leisurely wends his way home: Enveloped in the evening mist, how tunefully the flute vanishes away! Singing a ditty, beating time, his heart is filled with a joy indescribable! That he is now one of those who know, need it be told?

VII face The Cow Forgotten, Leaving the Man Alone. Things are one and the cow is symbolic. When you know that what you need is not the snare or set-net but the hare or fish, it is like gold separated from the dross, it is like the moon rising out of the clouds. The one ray of light serene and penetrating shines even before days of creation.

Riding on the cow he is at last back in his home, Where lo! there is no more the cow, and how serenely he sits all alone! Though the red sun is high up in the sky, he seems to be still quietly asleep, Under a straw-thatched roof are his whip and rope idly lying beside him.

VIII face The Cow and the Man Both Gone out of Sight. All confusion is set aside, and serenity alone prevails; even the idea of holiness does not obtain. He does not linger about where the Buddha is, and as to where there is no Buddha he speedily passes on. When there exists no form of dualism, even a thousand-eyed one fails to detect a loophole. A holiness before which birds offer flowers is but a farce.

All is empty, the whip, the rope, the man, and the cow: Who has ever surveyed the vastness of heaven? Over the furnace burning ablaze, not a flake of snow can fall: When this state of things obtains, manifest is the spirit of the ancient master.

IX face Returning to the Origin, Back to the Source. From the very beginning, pure and immaculate, he has never been affected by defilement. He calmly watches the growth and decay of things with form, while himself abiding in the immovable serenity of non-assertion. When he does not identify himself with magic-like transformations, what has he to do with artificialities of self-discipline? The water flows blue, the mountain towers green. Sitting alone, he observes things undergoing changes.

To return to the Origin, to be back at the Source—already a false step this! Far better it is to stay home, blind and deaf, straightway and without much ado, Sitting within the hut he takes no cognisance of things outside, Behold the water flowing on—whither nobody knows; and those flowers red and fresh—for whom are they?

X face Entering the City with Bliss-bestowing Hands. His humble cottage door is closed, and the wisest know him not. No glimpses of his inner life are to be caught; for he goes on his own way without following the steps of the ancient sages. Carrying a gourd he goes out into the market, leaning against a stick he comes home. He is found in company with wine-bibbers and butchers, he and they are all converted into Buddhas.

Bare-chested and bare-footed, he comes out into the market-place; Daubed with mud and ashes, how broadly he smiles! There is no need for the miraculous power of the gods, For he touches, and lo! the dead trees come into full bloom.