Some time ago, an old friend from the School of Philosophy asked me a question: which teaching had had the greatest impact on my life?
Many things came to mind, but I found myself returning to the story of Eno and Myo, Case 23 of the Mumonkan.
Eno, the Sixth Patriarch, received the Dharma transmission from the Fifth Patriarch, Gunin. Because of the circumstances surrounding the transmission, Gunin advised him to leave the monastery. Some of the monks followed him, and among them was Myo, who eventually caught up with him.
Eno placed the robe and bowl, symbols of the transmission, on a rock and said, “The robe represents the Dharma. It should not be fought over. If you want it, take it.”
Myo tried to lift them but could not.
Suddenly something changed. He said, “I have come for the Dharma, not for the robe. Please teach me.”
Eno said:
“When you think neither good nor evil, at this very moment, what is the original self of Myo?”
Myo awakened.
I have returned to this question many times.
Think neither good nor evil.
What happens if, even for a moment, I don’t immediately divide experience into what I like and dislike, what I want and don’t want, what I approve of and reject?
And then comes the question:
At this very moment, what is the original self of Myo?
I can produce plenty of answers.
I can talk about Buddha nature, emptiness, non-duality, awareness or the true self.
But those are still answers.
The question remains.
When I originally gave this talk, I used a lychee.
I peeled it and imagined handing it to Myo.
Here it is.
Eat it.
Myo puts it in his mouth. He bites. He tastes it. He swallows.
What else needs to be said?
I can describe a lychee for half an hour. I can talk about its sweetness, texture, colour and smell. I can explain where it grows and what it contains.
But none of that is eating the lychee.
This is one reason the story of Eno and Myo has remained important to me. It keeps bringing me back from explanations to experience.
The same thing happens in zazen.
I sit down. I feel the body on the cushion. I breathe.
Then the mind begins.
Plans. Memories. Judgements. Opinions. Conversations that haven’t happened. Conversations that happened ten years ago and apparently require another rehearsal.
At some point I notice.
And there I am again.
Sitting.
Breathing.
Nothing extraordinary has happened.
The question Eno asked Myo can also follow me away from the cushion.
When I react strongly to something, what is happening?
What am I defending?
What am I adding?
Who is reacting?
I don’t necessarily need to answer.
Sometimes noticing the question is enough to interrupt the certainty with which I was about to act.
“One thing is good. Another is bad. I am right. You are wrong. I want this. I don’t want that.”
And then:
Think neither good nor evil.
Not as an instruction to become indifferent or incapable of making distinctions, but as a question that stops me for a moment.
Before the judgement.
Before the story.
Before the answer.
What is here?
I still don’t have a neat explanation of Eno’s question.
I’m quite happy about that.
So perhaps I’ll finish where I started.
At this very moment, what is the original self of Myo?
And if that seems too complicated, have a lychee.
