Knock Down the Flagpole: Practicing with Case 22 of the Mumonkan

A couple of weeks ago, we reflected on the kōan where the Buddha silently held up a flower, and only Mahākāśyapa smiled. That smile, as the story goes, marked the first “mind-to-mind transmission.” No words, no explanation—just presence.

This week, we return to Mahākāśyapa in Case 22 of the Mumonkan, titled “Kashyapa’s Flagpole.” Here’s the kōan:

Ananda asked Kashyapa, “The World-Honored One gave you the golden robe. Did he give you anything else?”

“Ananda!” cried Kashyapa.

“Yes, sir!” replied Ananda.

“Knock down the flagpole at the gate,” said Kashyapa.

That’s it. That’s the whole case.

At first glance, it’s a short and cryptic exchange. But to me, it points directly to something vital in practice: the immediacy of awakening, the call to respond fully to this very moment.

Ananda, the Buddha’s faithful attendant, known for memorizing every teaching, asks a revealing question: “Did the Buddha give you anything else?” Behind that question, I sense doubt—maybe even longing. Was there some secret teaching he missed? Some deeper insight only Kashyapa received?

But Kashyapa doesn’t answer with philosophy or reassurance. He just calls his name. And Ananda, without thinking, responds: “Yes, sir!” That moment, that spontaneous, unthinking answer—that’s the transmission. That’s the awakening. That’s it.

No explanation. No hidden meaning. Just presence. Just response.

And then comes the command: “Knock down the flagpole at the gate.”

To me, the flagpole symbolizes all the structures we cling to: ideas about enlightenment, about being a good student, about “doing it right.” Roles, identities, doubts—all of it. Kashyapa is saying: drop it. Let it go.

In practice, those flagpoles can be subtle. The idea of being a good Zen student, or the hope that a certain experience will mark a breakthrough—they’re easy to carry around without noticing. But they weigh us down. They keep us from simply responding, like Ananda did, to the moment as it is.

When I sit, I try to let go of the idea that I’m doing anything special. I sit as I am. No goals, no robe, no flagpole. Just breath, just gravity, just body. And when I’m cycling, it’s the same—sometimes pushing, sometimes slowing down—but always returning to what the moment actually asks, rather than chasing an ideal.

This kōan reminds me that practice is not about gaining something. It’s about responding now. When life calls your name—Ananda!—just answer. “Yes, sir!” That’s the whole thing.