ZEN IRODALOM ZEN LITERATURE
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十牛圖 Shiniu tu [Jūgyūzu]
The Ten Oxherding Pictures
Introduction and verse by 廓庵師遠 Kuoan Shiyuan [Kakuan Shien], 12th century,
translated by Lewis Hyde in three English versions: “one word ox”,
“spare sense ox”, and “American ox”
Paintings by Max Gimblett
Chan/Zen, the Oxherding Pictures, and the World-Affirming Turn in Chinese Buddhism
by Joseph A. Adler
Foreword to Lewis Hyde and Max Gimblett, The Disappearing Ox, 2020
The product of a collaborative meditation by two internationally known artistic visionaries, Max Gimblett and Lewis Hyde, oxherding is based on the Song-Dynasty Chinese “Oxherding Series,” a Zen Buddhist parable of self-discovery comprised of pictures and verse.
Max Gimblett’s ink drawings are abstract "demonstrations" of the text, not realistic illustrations, manifesting his personal vision and spiritual connection to the themes of the series. Lewis Hyde’s multiple English translations of the Chinese poems suggest several possible readings, with varying nuances of meaning and tone. The two artists’ joint approach frames the poems as a text open to interpretation and invites a larger discussion of the ways we make meaning and develop theories of knowledge.
Each Oxherding text will appear in three different English versions by Lewis Hyde: a “one word ox” which sticks slavishly to the Chinese (one word per character), a “spare sense ox,” which puts each Chinese syntactic unit into a simple English sentence, and an “American ox” (or “fat American ox”) which takes considerable liberties while trying to be faithful to his intuitions about the meaning of the series.
Max Gimblett's
drawings, 2008,
sumi ink and mineral spirits on HMP Woodstock, handmade paper, 23 ×
Max Gimblett,
a masterful painter, draftsman and Rinzai lay monk has a long and distinguished
career as a sumi ink painter and regularly collaborates and exhibits calligraphy
with his teacher, Zenen Dairyu, Great Dragon. Gimblett has participated in
over 100 solo exhibitions, and his work was featured in the recent exhibit The
Third Mind: American Artists Contemplate Asia, 1860-1989 at the Solomon
R. Guggenheim Museum. A major monograph, Max Gimblett, was released
in 2003, and the catalogue The Brush of All Things was published
in 2004. Gimblett's works are in the collections of Museum of Modern Art,
New York; The Whitney Museum of American Art, New York; National Gallery of
Art, Washington D.C.; The Getty Research Institute for the History of Art
& the Humanities, Los Angeles; San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, San
Francisco; Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane; Art Gallery of New South Wales,
Sydney; and Auckland Art Gallery – Toi O Tamaki, Auckland. More at www.maxgimblett.com.
Lewis
Hyde is a poet, essayist, translator,
and cultural critic. His 1983 book, The Gift, illuminates and defends
the non-commercial portion of artistic practice. Trickster Makes This
World (1998) uses a group of ancient myths to argue for the kind of disruptive
intelligence all cultures need if they are to remain lively, flexible, and
open to change. Hyde recently publishedCommon as Air: Revolution, Art, and
Ownership. A MacArthur Fellow and former director of undergraduate creative
writing at Harvard University, Hyde teaches during the fall semesters at Kenyon
College, where he is the Richard L. Thomas Professor of Creative Writing.
During the rest of the year he lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he
is a Fellow at Harvard’s Berkman Center for Internet and Society. More
at www.lewishyde.com.
“One-Word Oxherding”
Search Ox
Preface
From start not lost
what use search for
Because abandoned
awakening
so become scarce
Living near dust
and therefore loss
Home mountain gradually distant
Branched roads suddenly change
Gain / loss blazing up
Right / wrong blade rising
Poem
Without bounds
stirring grasses
leaving, tracking
down
Waters broad
mountains distant
road
more obscure
Strenght exhausted
spirit weary
no place
to-hunt
But hearing
sweetgum trees
evening cicada song
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Searching for the Ox
Preface
From the beginning nothing
was lost;
there is no need to search.
Turning away from awareness,
that's how neglect arises.
Move toward dust:
loss will follow.
The family mountain grows more distant,
the forking roads are useless now.
"Gain" and "Loss" catch fire;
"Right" and "Wrong" sharpen swords.
Poem
Searching, pushing through
endless underbrush.
Wide waters, distant mountains, darkening path.
Strength exhausted, spirit weary, no hint of where to hunt.
Just hear the evening cicadas sing in the sweetgum grove.
“American Oxherding”
Searching for the Ox
The Ox is never really lost, so why hunt for it? No oxherd can see what he has turned his back on. Five kinds of hunger have led him this way and that. What was home a moment ago is now a confusion of crossroads and dirt paths. Desire for gain and fear of loss circle like tongues of fire. An obsession with right or wrong marks everything, like a blade sharpened on both edges.
Alone in the deep woods,
despairing in the jungle, searching for nothing!
Flood-swollen rivers, mountains beyond mountains, the trail endless and unchanging.
Bone-tired, heart-weary, the whole thing seems hopeless.
No sound but the evening cicadas singing in a grove of maple trees.
II: Seeing the Traces
“One-Word Oxherding”
See Tracks
Preface
Following sutras understanding meaning
reading teachings perceiving footprints
dear
multiple vessels are
one gold
understand
all things are one’s self
right / wrong unable to-distinguish
true / false how to-separate
not-yet enter this gate
merely achieve ”see tracks”
Poem
River beside
trees under
tracks unexpected
many
fragrant grasses
scattered about
doesn’t he see?
Although in
mountains
deep even deeper places
Distant heavens
that nose
how conceal it?
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Seeing the Tracks
Preface
By relying on the sutras
and reading the teachings
understand the meaning and perceive the footprints.
As it is clear
that multiple gold vessels are a single metal,
so understand
that all things in the world comprise one’s self.
If unable to distinguish true from false
how to tell the real from the fake?
This gate has not yet been entered.
One only gets this far: ”Seeing the tracks.”
Poem
By the waters, under the
trees, many surprising tracks.
Sweet-smelling grass scattered about—isn’t it obvious?
Even in dark mountains or hidden recesses,
how could that heavenly nose be concealed?
“American Oxherding”
Seeing the Traces
He can sense its traces while reading the sutras, hearing the teachings. No gold vessel is like any other, but all are made of gold. He and the world, they are made of the same stuff. Still, he wonders, shouldn’t good and evil be set apart? Trying to separate out the truth he ends in confusion. If there is a gate, he has not gone through it. Were those really the traces of something, or is this a joke?
In the woods, along the
riverbank, strange marks all around.
What has bent the sweet grass down just there?
The deepest canyons, the highest peaks—nothing can hide that constellation.
The Nose of the Ox.
III: A Glimpse of the Ox
“One-Word Oxherding”
See Ox
Preface
Follow sound able to enter
See place encounter source
”Six Roots” gate
all perceptions without error
Within all actions
all sources
become apparent
Water in salt flavor
Paint within binder blue
Low / high eye discerns
is not separate thing
Poem
Yellow oriole
branch on
one call
call
Sun warm
wind gentle
shore
willow green
Just this
more not
avoid meeting place
Full-grown full-grown
head
horns
painting difficult to-complete
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Seeing the Ox
Preface
Follow the sound and the
way opens;
see the place and come to the source.
At the root of each sense is a gate:
perception there is not muddled.
Inside all actions
the source becomes clear.
Like the salt in seawater,
like the binder in blue paint,
the eyes distinguish high from low
and see that ”it” is not a separate thing.
Poem
Yellow oriole on a
branch—one call after call.
Warm sun, gentle wind, green willows on the riverbank.
Just this and no more: the meeting is unavoidable.
Stately head and stately horns: hard to finish that painting!
“American Oxherding”
A Glimps of the Ox
If he would only listen to everyday sounds he would get it in a second. As for the senses: it was the cicada that made the ear! The thing itself is there no matter what we do. It is like the salt in water and the binder in paint. Rightly opened, the eye sees no difference between the water and the well.
The meadowlark sings,
sitting on a branch.
Warm sun, light breeze, green willows by the river.
The Ox stands right there; where could he hide?
That splendid head, those stately horns,
what artist could draw their likeness?
IV: Catching the Ox
“One-Word Oxherding”
Get Ox
Preface
Long hidden
distant places
this day encounter it
Because there
superior
so difficult to-pursue
Loves sweet
greenery
so without
discipline
Stubborn mind still strong
Wild nature still lively
Want to-get pure tameness?
Must add whip hitting
Poem
Exhaust entire
vital
energy
get
ahold it
Heart-mind strong
strength
vigorous
finally
difficult to-subdue
Some times
just arrives
high land summit
Also enters
hazy
clouds
deep regions to-dwell
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Getting the Ox
Preface
Today one comes upon it,
long hidden in distant places.
Because it rules these regions
it is not easy to chase after.
Its love for sweet foliage
has left it untamed.
Its stubborn mind is still strong,
its wild nature still lively.
If you want true domestication
you really apply the whip.
Poem
All one’s vital
energy spent, one gets hold of it.
Its heart is strong, muscles vigorous: these are ultimately hard to erase!
sometimes it shows up in the high mountains,
Other times goes to live in deep valley clouds and mist.
“American Oxherding”
Catching the Ox
Today the oxherd laid his hands on the Ox. That beast, free since birth in high and uncut meadows, would rather go its own way. No ring has ever pierced its nose; the memory of sweet-smelling grass muscles its back. If the oxherd hopes to ride this Ox he will have to use his whip.
He must hold the rope with
all his might
for the Ox is two-thousand pounds of old habit.
One moment it runs to the high meadows,
the next it is lost in a fog-bound riverbottom.
V. Taming of the Ox
“One-Word Oxherding”
Herd Ox
Preface
First thought
just rising
next thought close behind
Because awakened
There- fore
Become truth
In confusion
There- fore
Become false
Not from circumstances had
Only from heart-mind born
Nose rope firmly pull
Not allow other impulse
Poem
Whip rope
all times
not distant
self
afraid it
leap away
enter
dust dirt
join together
herding achieve
pure warm
harmony
halters bindings
without constraints
willingly follows person
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Herding the Ox
Preface
First thought just
rising, other thoughts follow behind.
Being awakened, one comes to embody the truth.
Being confused, one embodies delusion.
Delusion does not arise from the outer world;
Only the mind can give it birth.
Pull the nose-rope firmly.
Do not let it wander at will.
Poem
Always keep the whip and
rope close at hand
for fear it might leap into the dust and dirt.
In true herding they are joined in warm harmony.
Unfettered by halters and ropes, it follows the person by itself.
“American Oxherding”
Taming the Ox
One thought rises in the mind, then another and another. When the oxherd is rightly awake, he observes their coming and going. When he sorts them right from wrong, a great confusion gathers. That tangle of crossroads lies inside the skull, not outside. Hold the nose rope firmly, or every rising thought will send it wandering.
If he does keep the whip
and rope near at hand
the Ox will soon seek out the nearest mud wallow.
But care for it properly, and it becomes gentle, clean;
it will follow the oxhers willingly, the rope gone slack.
VI. Riding home
“One-Word Oxherding”
Ride Ox Return Home
Preface
Shield spear already ceasing
gain loss return-to emptiness
Sing rustic song
of wood- cutter
Play unrefined tune
of -----
children
Body across ox back
eyes look clouds heaven
called back: not turn
lured surrounded: not stop
Poem
Riding ox
meander along
soon return
home
Bamboo flute
sound sound
accompany
sunset clouds
Each beat
each song
un- limited meaning
Knowing harmony
what need
flap lips teeth [chatter]
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Riding the Ox Back Home
Preface
When struggle ceases,
gain and loss return to emptiness.
Singing a woodcutter’s rustic song,
Piping a simple children’s tune,
Lying across the ox’s back,
Looking into the cloudy sky:
If called back, he will not turn,
If lured or baited, he will not stop.
Poem
Wandering along, soon to
return home riding the ox.
The bamboo flute song echoes with the sunset clouds.
Every beat and every tune unlimited in feeling.
Knowing this harmony, what need is there to talk?
“American Oxherding”
Riding Home
The struggle is over. As for gain and loss, he can’t remember what the problem was. Lying on the Ox’s back, he hums a forest tune; he plays flute songs learned in childhood. The sky seems larger than the earth. None of the five hungers can turn his head. Call to him, offer him anything—he will not hear you.
He is riding home but
seems to be in no hurry.
Evening mist absorbs the flute tones. Their harmony
carries his heart to the horizon line.
Talk about grass is not what keeps this Ox alive.
VII. Ox Forgotten
“One-Word Oxherding”
Forget Ox Remain Person
Preface
Dharma without second dharma:
ox temporarily was purpose
Analogy: snare / rabbit
have different names
Clarify: fish-trap fish
have different qualities
Like gold emerging ore
like moon leaving clouds --
one whole cold light
mighty sound beyond time
Poem
Riding ox
already obtains
arriving
home
mountain
As-for ox,
empty -----
as-for person, idle
Red sun
late afternoon
still day-
dreaming
Whip rope
idle stopped
thatch room
within
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
The Ox Forgotten, the Person Remaining
Preface
The dharma doesn’t
have a second dharma:
The ox served a temporary purpose.
By analogy: the snare and the rabbit are two different things.
To clarify: the fishtrap and the fish have different qualities.
Like gold coming out of the ore,
Like the moon leaving the clouds,
One cool light already shone
Before time came into being.
Poem
Riding the ox he has
already arrived at his mountain home.
As for the ox, it is empty; as for the person, he is at rest.
Late day’s red sun, and still he is lost in dream.
The whip and the rope lie idle under the thatched roof.
“American Oxherding”
Ox Forgotten
What was all about? Alone now, the oxherd feels quite at home. On this path, one thing is not two things. When the rabbit is caught, the snare may be abandoned. When the fish is caught, why stand there holding the net? See: like gold drawn from dross, like the moon risen from clouds, this world has always given off a single light.
He could not have gotten
home without that animal,
but oh, the Ox has disappeared and the man sits by himself, content.
His reverie does not bear the red mark of solar time.
The rope and whip lie idle under the cabin thatch.
VIII. Self and Ox Forgotten
“One-Word Oxherding”
Person Ox Alike Forget
Preface
Worldly desires drop away
Holy intentions all empty
Having- Buddha place:
no need seek out
Without- Buddha
place:
urgent must pass by
Either side not touch
Thousand eyes difficult peering
Hundred birds offering flowers,
one scene shamed heart
Poem
Whip rope
person ox
all belong
emptiness
Blue sky deep
wide words cannot penetrate
Red stove
flame above
how survive
snow?
Arriving here
only then
join ancient teachers
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
The person and the Ox Both Forgotten
Preface
All worldly emotions fall
away;
all sacred sentiments are empty.
No need to linger in places where the Buddha is;
in places where there is no Buddha, quickly pass by.
Neither side exists.
A thousand eyes would have difficulty detecting [such a person].
A hundred flower-offering birds:
that scene would be one long farce.
Poem
Whip and rope, person and
ox: all are empty.
Words cannot reproduce the vast blue sky.
How could snowflakes survive the flames of a forge?
One can only join the ancestors by arriving at this place.
“American Oxherding”
Self and Ox Forgotten
This serenity scatters no light. No holiness appears. If he thinks he is a Buddha, it passes quickly. Proud that he is not a Buddha, that goes too. Five hundred fully-enlightened ancient ones cannot see anything special in the man. If a hundred flower-bestowing birds circled his room, he would feel the deepest shame.
Empty whip, empty rope,
empty Ox, empty human being.
”The vast blue sky” is not at all the vast blue sky.
Think of snow falling on a blazing fire,
Just there the spirit of the ancient masters is fully present.
IX. Going Back to the Beginning
“One-Word Oxherding”
Return Roots Go-Back Source
Preface
Since origin
pure clean
not receive one dust
Observe formed things
their thriving withering
Dwell non- interference
its still
quiet
Not identify illusory change
How require more improvement
Water green mountain blue
Sit watch success defeat
Poem
Return root
go-back source
already cost
effort
How equal down
directly as-if blind deaf?
Hut inside
not see
hut outside
things
Rivers naturally
without bounds
flowers naturally red
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Returning to the Roots, Going Back to the Source
Preface
It was originally pure
and clean and has gathered no dust.
See the thriving and withering of forms;
Live in te still and quiet of non-action;
Do not identify with illusion and change.
How could anything be improved?
The waters are blue, the mountains are green.
Sit and watch success and defeat.
Poem
Returning to the roots,
going to the source—that already took effort.
Better to have been, right away, as if blind and deaf.
Sitting in the hut, see nothing outside the hut.
the rivers overflow by themselves, the flowers bloom red.Going back to the
Beginning
“American Oxherding”
Going back to the
Beginning
The dust never had any dust. Bodies grow and decay, delusions form and dissolve, identities come and go… Live in the still place between; it need no improvement. The waters are blue. The mountains are green. Change without end: sit and watch.
Seeking the Source, the
One True Origin: why all this seeking?
Better to stay at home as if ears and eyes had never opened.
He sits in the cabin. There is nothing to hunt for beyond the gate.
The streams flow and flowers open, vividly red.
X. Entering the Marketplace with Helping Hands
“One-Word Oxherding”
Enter Market Hanging Hands
Preface
Scrapwood gate
just shut
thousand sages not know
Bury the scenery
of one’s self
Leave road ruts
of old worthies
Carry gourd enter market
Walk cane return home
Wine shop fish shop
Influence make become Buddhas
Poem
Reveal chest
bare feet
enter
market arrive
Apply soil ashes
smear smile fill cheeks
Needing not
immortal
ones
deep secrets
riddles
Just teach
withered tree
release flowers
open
“Spare Sense Oxherding”
Entering the Marketplace with Hanging Hands
Preface
His makeshift gate is
shut tight; a thousand sages wouldn’t know him.
He has hidden from the view the beauty of himself.
He leaves the beaten path of the old worthies.
He enters the marketplace carrying a gourd
and goes home with a walking stick.
In the wine shops and fish stands
people are transformed into Buddhas.
Poem
His chest uncovered,
barefoot, he comes into the marketplace.
Smeared with mud and ashes, he smiles broadly.
He does not need the coded secrets of the immortals.
He just shows the withered trees how to release their flowers.
“American Oxherding”
Entering the Marketplace with Helping Hands
He has closed
the cabin gate behind him. Not even the wise notice him as he walks by. He
has left all the apparatus of spiritual life behind. He follows the path before
him, not trying to match the footsteps of ancient teachers. He carries a gourd
into the market and comes home leaning on an old stick. Drinkers in traverns
and butchers in meat shops see him and they wake up.
Barefoot, bare-chested, he enters the market.
Dusty, spattered with mud, how broadly he grins!
He has no need of magic powers.
Near him the withered trees spring into bloom.