Mirrors

In the Fifth Century, a.d.,
The Fifth Patriarch of the Dhyana School
arrived at Pao Lin Monastery and told the monks
that he who understands the Essence of Mind
would be given the robe, the Dharma, and the
Sixth Patriarchate.

Shen Hsiu wrote his stanza at midnight
by the flickering butter lamp on the
wall of the South Corridor. It read:

Our body is the Bodhi-tree,
And our mind a mirror bright.
Carefully we wipe them hour by hour,
and let no dust alight.

But the Patriarch already knew that Shen Hsiu
had not known the essence of Mind.
And, we might add, that while Shen Hsiu's stanza
makes him no zen master it might
make him a very good chinaman.

But Hui Neng, the monastery's woodcutter,
was prompted to give his stanza. He spoke:

There is no Bodhi-tree,
Nor stand of a mirror bright,
Since all is void,
Where can the dust alight?

The Patriarch, upon hearing Hui Neng's stanza,
handed him the robe, the begging bowl, and the
Patriarchate.

14 centuries later, my friend
who sees things so clearly
wrote on a flap of his travel itinerary:

If there is a mirror
Or if there is no mirror
I am the mirror

To which I can only add
this possibility:

If I am the mirror
It is not my mirror
We are the mirror

These dog haiku will win us no robe,
nor begging bowl, nor patriarchate.
But to us it does not matter
and we do not mind.