The Preview (from WZEN):
There was an old woman on Mount Dai path. A monastic asked her, "Where is the path to Mount Dai?"
The old woman said, "Go straight ahead."
The monastic went on.
The woman said, "My dear Reverend, you too go off like that." Monastics came one after another to ask the same question and received the same answer.
Later, one of the monastics told Zhaozhou about it. Zhaozhou said, "Wait here for a while. Let me check her out."
He went to the woman and said, "Where is the path to Mount Dai?"
The woman said, "Go straight ahead."
Zhaozhou went on.
The woman said, "My dear Reverend, you too go off like that."
Zhaozhou came back and said to the assembly, "I have checked out that woman for you."
Why do you need to go somewhere to find yourself? It is like riding an Ox looking for the Ox. When you take a step toward it, you step away from it.
And who is checking out who? To talk about it more does lead to more understanding, but paradoxically less. Like the student remarking that he felt like his deceased father was present at the sesshin and Elihu cutting the student off before he could elaborate further. The dead father was present. Further speaking about it does not serve to "flesh" it out, but rather puts concepts in the way of the immediacy of the experience. What more could the student explain what he meant other than to replace his experience with a metaphor, memory or other concept?
And realizing that this is what I am hardwired to do in every situation and every experience. Intuitively, I think that by explaining or elaborating about something in more detail somehow makes it more whole or more complete when paradoxically the opposite is occurring. And I'm not just talking about fathers because mine is still very much alive:-).
Still mountain is a mountain, a destination is a destination. When you are asked for directions, what is the reply?
The Dream: involved traveling a road leading to a huge mountain. But the road stopped at the foot of the mountain so that there was a huge chasm between the edge of the road and the mountain. The person I was with stated that the way to the mountain was to crawl under the road to get to the another road which inexplicably led to the mountain. I looked over the end of the road and into the abyss and the dizzying prospective of straddling the road (while looking straight down into the chasm) to lever myself under the road seemed more than I could bear. As I turned away from the road and headed back, I remarked that if there were some form of ropes or other safety devices I may have attempted the feat.
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