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Wuzu Fayan said, “If you meet a man on the path who has accomplished the Way, do not greet him with words or silence. Tell me, how will you greet him?”

—Gateless Gate Case 36

Through his years of teaching, Wuzu has served as a guide entering the space between words and silence. This is the place where we might discover “before thinking good or evil.” There are no protective barriers here—no walls, no safety. It is just this.

We have been visiting with Song Era Chan masters these past weeks.

In ancient China there were three periods of Zen, the Legendary period (5th–8th c.), when the likes of half-historical and partly-mythical Bodhidharma and Huineng walked the earth. Then we have the Classical period (8th–10th c.), the time of Mazu, Baizhang, Huangbo, Linji, Dongshan and the other ancients we know from koan stories. Finally, the Literary period (10th–13th c.), the era of the Song greats: Dahui, Yuanwu, and Wuzu in China, and Hongzhi, Wumen, and Dogen in Japan.

Wuzu Fayan entered the monastery at thirty-five years old, rather late, back in the day. He was said to be unassuming and plain-spoken, which was in great contrast to his successors, ‘son’ Yuanwu and his ‘grandson’ Dahui, both literary firebrands.

Zen is said to be beyond scriptures and words. But what do we say upon hearing of a friend’s grave illness? How do you respond when you get notice you’ve been laid off? Or when your grandchild is born? Are those moments beyond silence and speech? They kind of are. “And yet, and yet,” writes Issa, “the dewdrop world is the dewdrop world.” Words themselves are that dewdrop world.

Wuzu once told a story about going to the marketplace, where, he saw a puppet show for the first time. Fascinated, he went in for a closer look: The puppets appeared to be moving around on their own, walking and sitting down with dynamic arms and legs. Wuzu could see the puppeteer behind the blue curtain.

He called out, “Sir! What is your name?”
The puppeteer responded, “Honored priest, just watch the show. Why ask for names?” Wuzu told his monks, “Brothers, when I heard him say this, I had not a single word in response, nor a single idea to espouse,” adding, “Can any of you say something in my place?”

The koans credited to Wuzu are often spare:

For example, it’s just like a water buffalo passing through a latticed window. Her head, horns, and four legs have passed through. Why is it that her tail can’t pass through?

Even Śākyamuni and Maitreya are servants of that one. Tell me, who is the one?

The girl Qian and her true soul were separated. Which is the true Qian?

When Wuzu was ill and failing, he went to the hall and bade the monks farewell, saying “Zhaozhou had some final words. Do you remember them? Let’s see if you can recite them.” When no one responded, Wuzu recited Zhou’s words:

Fortune few among the thousand,
But one has countless pains and sorrows.

Then Wuzu said, “Take care,” and passed away that night.

—Jon Joseph

COME JOIN US on Mondays for koan meditation, dharma talk and conversation. Register to participate. All are welcome.

Jon Joseph Roshi, Director of San Mateo Zen Community