Just This Flower

Practicing with Case 6 of the Gateless Gate

When Shakyamuni Buddha was on Mount Grdhrakūṭa, he held up a flower to his listeners. Everyone was silent. Only Mahākāśyapa broke into a smile. The Buddha said,

“I have the true Dharma eye, the marvelous mind of Nirvana, the true form of the formless, and the subtle Dharma gate, independent of words and transmitted beyond doctrine. This I entrust to Mahākāśyapa.”

It’s such a simple story—almost uneventful. The Buddha holds up a flower, a man smiles, and something profound happens. No explanation. No debate. No sermon. Just silence, a flower, and a smile.

Sometimes I wonder if the Buddha was just done talking. He had already spent a lifetime offering teachings, answering questions, guiding others. Maybe in that moment, holding the flower, he was saying: enough words—let’s see who’s really here. And Mahākāśyapa smiled.

Not because he figured something out.
Not because he understood a hidden message.
But maybe—just maybe—because there was nothing to understand.

Just a flower.
Just that moment.
Just the breath.

No story. No commentary. No mental spinning. Just seeing. Just being.

And what about the rest of the audience? Were they puzzled? Confused? Likely still searching for meaning, as most of us do. Still chasing the Dharma with their minds. Looking for an answer instead of looking at the flower.

That’s where I often find myself too—in the crowd. Trying to make sense of things. Wanting a clear teaching, a safe explanation. Chasing thoughts. Creating meaning. Getting lost in the maze of my own mind.

But Mahākāśyapa didn’t chase anything. He didn’t reach for meaning. He didn’t interpret. He simply saw—and smiled.

That smile wasn’t about knowing more than others. It was about being completely there, without resistance. It was a smile of freedom. A smile that says: I’m not chasing anything. I’m home.

When the Buddha said he was transmitting the “true Dharma eye” and the “marvelous mind of Nirvana,” I don’t hear dogma. I hear presence. I hear a direct experience of the moment before we turn it into a story.

Even those lofty-sounding phrases:

• the marvelous mind of Nirvana
• the true form of the formless
• the subtle Dharma gate

They point not to something magical or out of reach, but to what’s already here—when we stop running, stop explaining, stop trying to figure it all out. The flower was never a riddle. The gate was never locked.

There is no gate. That’s why it’s called the Gateless Gate.

How I Practice with This Kōan

I don’t study this kōan. I practice with it.
I let it live with me.

Sometimes, when I sit in meditation and my mind is noisy—thinking about emails, work, conversations—I imagine the Buddha holding up that flower. No teaching. No lecture. Just the flower.

And often, a smile arises. Not because I get it. But because I stop needing to.

Sometimes when I’m cycling, walking, talking—whenever I notice I’ve drifted off into mental chatter—I bring to mind that flower. And the spinning slows. The tension drops. I come back to this moment, as it is.

This kōan reminds me not to look for the moment, but to meet it.
Not to understand, but to be intimate with what’s right here.

And maybe that’s all the Buddha was ever pointing to.