A couple of weeks ago, I reconnected with a friend I hadn’t spoken to for nearly ten years. We used to be part of a community called the School of Philosophy, around 15 or 16 years ago. The school offered teachings from various traditions, but its main framework was Advaita Vedanta, a branch of Hinduism. It was there that I was first introduced to meditation practice.
My friend was curious about my practice these days, so I told him about our Zen practice. He wanted to know what teaching, practice, or method had the most significant and positive impact on my life in recent years.
Today, I want to talk about Case 23 from the Mumonkan, a collection of Zen koans. I’ve always felt a strong connection to this particular koan for several reasons. If I were to choose one story or teaching that has deeply influenced my practice and life, this would be it.
The koan recounts an episode from the life of the Sixth Patriarch, Eno.
Here’s a bit of background: Eno lived in a monastery as one of the newest monks—this was in the 7th century, a long time ago. Despite being a newcomer, the retiring Zen Master decided that Eno would be his successor, surpassing all the other monks who had studied and practiced with the master for many years. This decision sparked jealousy, anger, and confusion among the monks. How could this newcomer suddenly outrank all of us? Didn’t our years of practice count for anything?
Events like this can trigger strong emotions, ideas, and thoughts. That’s exactly what happened when Eno received transmission from the Fifth Ancestor. I imagine the monastery was buzzing with judgments about right and wrong, good and bad, should and shouldn’t. Have you ever experienced that kind of mental chaos? I certainly have—many times!
Back to the koan: Eno is given transmission and told to leave the monastery during the night when no one can see him. The next day, when the other monks find out, they react impulsively. What happens when something unexpected occurs in our life? Do we respond impulsively, or can we find healthier ways to react, or maybe just let things be?
In this story, the reaction is very impulsive: jealousy, a sense of injustice, a strong conviction about what is right and wrong. The monks appoint one of their own, a monk named Myo, to chase after Eno and “set things right.”
Now, I’m going to read a part of the koan…
Eno tells Myo to think neither good nor evil. How is that even possible? We naturally classify things as good or evil, pleasant or unpleasant. But this koan and Eno’s instruction direct us to a different kind of experience—the direct experience of what is in this moment, beyond mental elaboration. At this very moment, what is the original self of Myo? What is our original self? What is happening before we even start thinking?
Our judgments about situations are inevitably “corrupted” by conditioning. That doesn’t mean we can’t assess and form opinions, but Eno is asking us to explore what arises before judgment—to be aware of life as it is, directly. Who are we, really? What is our original self? Is it good or bad?
Eno invites Myo to drop all mental formations and come into a first-hand experience of this moment. Not the morning before, not childhood memories, not future expectations—just this moment.
There’s a beautiful comment on this koan that I want to share…
Eno sees Myo’s confusion and agitation; his mind and emotions are controlling him. So, Eno peels a lychee and offers it to Myo. The comment doesn’t say anything about whether the lychee tastes good or bad, or whether Myo likes it. It simply says Eno asked him to swallow it—just that, no more. The act of swallowing is just that.
What we often do is add layers of words, thoughts, feelings, and sensations that pull us away from the raw experience itself—from the original thing. There’s nothing wrong with this, but those layers don’t reveal the original self, the thing as it really is.
Our Zen practice encourages us to return to experiencing things as they are. When we sit on the cushion—and in a moment we’ll do that together—we aim to embody the act of sitting itself. Not “I am a person sitting,” but simply sitting. Fully present, with an erect posture, calm breathing, relaxed yet focused attention.
Our minds will wander, judging good and bad, likes and dislikes. Maybe it helps to take Eno’s instruction: think neither good nor evil. What is your original self right now as you sit? Can you describe it? Or maybe just act it out?
For me, this koan is simple but powerful. In life, I experience all kinds of mental chaos when faced with challenges—like Myo, I can feel the impulse to react, to panic, to resist what’s happening, and to try to fix things based on judgments of good and evil.
I try to ask myself: Who is acting here? Who is reacting? Am I controlled by my conditioned way of seeing things? How can I shift from self-centeredness to seeing clearly what a situation actually requires?
What is my original self? Can I directly experience the lychee without adding anything extra?
Thanks for listening, and I wish you all a good practice!
Zen Mindfulness Cambridge Zenways Italia 