I've heard some Zen riddles or koans before, but I've never really understood their context. Are they meant to be understood by their own? Are they just meditation tools? What is their point?
In this book, there is context. It collects several discussions layman Pang had with various Zen masters. These are not just isolated riddles, but there is back-and-forth dialogue between Pang and the masters.
At first I was underwhelmed. The first discussion is basically: "Pang asked Master Shitou: 'Who is the one who is not a companion to the ten thousand dharmas?'. Shitou placed his hand over Pang's mouth. At that moment Pang was enlightened."
And it gets even more inscrutable. The story with Shitou at least made some (very little) sense, but many other discussions sound like they come from a very bad AI trying to mimic human discussions. There is no rhyme or reason.
I was on the verge of giving up and deciding that the Zen master has no clothes: the "discussions" are just meaningless nonsense, but people treat them as very profound because they want to sound very spiritual.
But then I found a discussion that immediately made perfect sense. It was on the surface just as weird, full of seeming non-sequiturs - but I actually felt like I understood what Pang and the master were trying to say. But I can't explain what it was.
And just as suddenly I understood why the discussions were so inscrutable. The masters were talking about things that couldn't be put to words. They were impossible to explain directly, you had to have an insight moment to understand them. All they could do was talk about things that sort-of resemble the insight. By their nature, discussion about things that defy words are going to be pretty weird at best.
These learned men of Buddhism had their "slap-happy" moments....seems like a favorite pastime is to slap a fellow sage upside the head anytime a moment of enlightenment happens along..and if you think that's a little untoward, prepare to be really "enlightened"...!
When the protagonist, Layman P'ang himself is about to die, he has his daughter go outside and tell him when the sun reaches high-noon, so he can time his passing precisely...she returns, tells him there's an eclipse, thus foiling the timing of his death. Surprised, he goes outside to confirm her story and she uses the ruse to slip back inside, sit and die herself! P'ang finds her and is broken up, right? His daughter dies, and he's devastated with grief, yes? NOOOOO. He remarks, "Excellent, she beat me to it!" He dies seven days later but not before his sone decides to die, too...while standing, yes, standing!
So, there is deep, profound meaning in the allegories presented in this collection of parables and verse...but I'd be remiss if i didn't say that much of it is, well... damn strange!
Zen anecdotes from Layman P'Ang's travels after abruptly giving up his life of materialism. The three starts are for the fact that, for the general Western reader, many of the stories are lost in meaning simply because the abstract virtues of Zen Buddhism do not come as natural to our understanding because of the culture we've grown in. To anyone with an understanding of Zen(if it could be called an "understanding"), though, this is a four star book to keep anywhere a quick read is found wanted.
Valitettavasti opetukset eivät avautuneet minulle. Pidin kuitenkin runosta, josta kirja on saanut nimensä, sen kirjoitin itselleni muistiin, jotta voin siihen palata myöhemminkin. Kirjan alussa ollut johdanto oli mielenkiintoinen.
A delight. Short playful dialogues between old friends, monks, masters and a layman. All sweet, funny, all mysterious. Reads like candy that won’t rot your teeth!
A slim volume translating anecdotes about Páng Yún 龐蘊 (also called "Layman Páng" 龐居士), an exemplary lay Buddhist of the late eighth/early ninth century. Also includes a selection of 25 poems attributed to him (actually called poem-gāthās 詩偈 in the original), and an introduction to medieval Chinese Buddhism and the life of Layman Páng.
The tone of the book is scholarly without being academic: you'll find very little of the American-style Zennish philosophical speculation. One of the hands responsible for the volume, Iriya Yoshitaka 入矢義高 (1910-1999), was among the greatest Japanese sinologists of the 20th century, especially when it comes to medieval vernacular Chinese. Thus, A Man of Zen stays firmly grounded in the original sources, and aims to offer up the portrait of one man who witnessed the glory days of Zen.
But I have two problems with this book: 1. The translations are workmanlike, failing to capture the pizzazz of the originals. For all the faults of "popular" translations (such as those by Ezra Pound, Gary Snyder, Thomas Cleary), they usually read well as English. Not so with this volume.
2. The authors are way too trusting of their sources. The earliest records about Layman Páng come from the Collection of the Patriarchs' Hall 祖堂集, a very dubious 9th-century collection of pro-Buddhist gossip.
The Layman then splashed the water onto Tan-hsia twice. Than-hsia said, "Stop this! Stop this!" The Layman said, "You asked for this! You asked for this!"