"Longya's Thief in an Empty Room" from Eihei Dogen's 300 Koan Shobogenzo

The Main Case - A monastic asked Zen master Judan of Longya (Zhankong), "When do the teachers of old get stuck?" Longya said, "When the thief slips into an empty room."

Capping verse - When the mind is empty, the eyes are finally clear. Shining through detachment and subtlety--the root of creation.


Just to avoid any confusion or misunderstanding between you, the reader, and myself, the writer, I’ll make it clear right off the bat: for me, ideas, concepts, and theory are not methods for acquiring objective knowledge but rather catalysts for subjective experience of life; my life; anyone's life. While I admit I’m not averse to being able to posit a thesis that many can agree on, what’s more important to me is to instigate reflection. Similar to the manner in which a koan operates, activating consciousness of premises, assumptions, and prejudices in a dialectic process leading to the emptiness of knowing, so I hope to illuminate my subjects, not by shedding light on them, but by casting shadows, tracing their forms in darkness, in silhouette relief, to know them only by inference, by what they are not. My tools? Arbitrarily constructed in language and consciously divided for the sake of an intellectual pursuit: my mind (reason and awareness), my body (instinct and corporeality), and my spirit (presence and desire).

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Koan - Walk in a straight line

A teacher with an extra hip joint leaned to the side every day of his life. One day, he told his students to walk in a straight line, which they did.
“That’s a curve!” he shouted. He told them to walk in a circle instead.
“That’s an oval!” he shouted again. He told them to stand straight.
“Why are you leaning?” he asked.
The students instinctively leaned to the side.
“Better,” said the teacher. “Now walk in a straight line.”
Leaning, they could only walk in a curve.
“Ah, much better,” stated the teacher. “Now a circle.”
They could only manage an oval path.
“That’s it,” said the teacher. “Why didn’t you do it earlier?”
“We’re confused,” said the students.
“Now you know,” smiled the teacher.


The frustration from knowing what one means and having no one understand is only surpassed by the feeling of not knowing and having people understand. You sign your name, and people remember it. You take an oath, and people hold you to it. You walk a path, and people think you know where you’re going. It’s always the same. Better to be shocked by your own ignorance, if that’s what it takes.


Spell the words incorrectly and break the code. See yourself from behind and break the mirror. Retell the story so people have something to forget. Become the thing itself.
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