One day, the Buddha stood before a large assembly.
Everyone was waiting for him to speak.
Instead, he simply held up a flower.
No explanation.
No debate.
No sermon.
The whole assembly remained silent.
Except for Mahākāśyapa.
He smiled.
The Buddha said:
“I possess the True Dharma Eye, the marvellous mind of Nirvana, the true form of the formless, the subtle Dharma Gate that does not depend on words or letters but is a special transmission outside the scriptures. This I entrust to Mahākāśyapa.”
That’s the whole story.
I have always loved this kōan.
Partly because I find the image so simple.
A large group of people has gathered to hear the Buddha teach. Perhaps they are expecting something profound. Perhaps they are waiting for an explanation, an answer, something they can understand and take away with them.
And the Buddha holds up a flower.
Sometimes I wonder if he was simply done talking.
No more explanations.
Here.
A flower.
And then Mahākāśyapa smiles.
Why?
Did he understand something?
Was there anything to understand?
I don’t know.
The Buddha held up a flower.
Mahākāśyapa smiled.
How I Practice with This Kōan
Sometimes, when I sit in zazen, I notice how quickly the mind begins looking for something.
Am I concentrated enough?
Is this good meditation?
Should something be happening?
Then there are emails, work, conversations, plans, memories and all the other places the mind can wander.
Sometimes I remember the flower.
Not as an answer.
Just the flower.
And for a moment I can return to what is actually here.
The breath.
The body sitting.
A sound.
Light coming through the window.
Nothing particularly extraordinary.
I sometimes use the kōan in the same way when I am cycling or walking.
I can be moving through a beautiful place while barely noticing it because I am completely occupied with the conversation happening inside my head.
Then, occasionally, I notice.
The road.
The trees.
The sky.
The sound of the bicycle.
Just this.
The flower has become a small reminder for me.
Not necessarily to stop thinking. Thinking is part of what is happening too.
But sometimes I can notice when I am trying to turn everything into an explanation, a judgement or a story.
And perhaps I can leave it alone for a moment.
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.
The Buddha holds up a flower.
Mahākāśyapa smiles.
And I am still practising with it.
