

When I first wrote about Zen Master Man Gong three weeks ago, I had no idea that I was going to spend several weeks focusing on a lineage of Korean Zen masters. But here we are. And this will be the last week, I promise.

Zen Master Kyong Ho (1849 - 1912) revived modern Korean Zen training, after centuries of neglect and suppression under the Joseon Dynasty. He was Man Gong Sunim's teacher and thus the direct ancestor of Ko Bong Sunim and Seung Sahn Sunim, as well as of the various Zen masters of the Kwan Um School of Zen.

Kyong Ho Sunim became a monk at age 9 and was quickly recognized for his brilliance. He became an important sutra master at age 23 but had a startling experience that caused him to see that he was "very attached to [his] body." He resigned his position, saying:

I know now that the sutras are only the Buddha's words. They are not Buddha's mind.

He retired to his room, saying: "If I can't get beyond life and death, I vow never to leave this room." He practiced constantly, not sleeping for three months. (Whenever he got sleepy, he would plunge an awl into his thigh.) Here's his enlightenment story:

One day the student who was attending him went to the nearby town. There he happened to meet a certain Mr. Lee, who was a close friend of Kyong Ho's. Mr. Lee asked, "How's your master doing nowadays?"

The student narrated Kyong Ho's great vow. "He is doing hard training. He only eats, sits, and lies down."

"If he just eats, sits, and lied down, he will be reborn as cow."

The student got very angry. "How can you say that? My teacher is the greatest scholar in Korea! I am positive that he will go to heaven after he dies!"

Mr. Lee said, "That's no way to answer me."

"Why not? How should I have answered?"

"I would have said, 'If my teacher is reborn as a cow, he will be a cow with no nostrils.'"

"A cow with no nostrils? What does that mean?"

"Go ask your teacher."

When he returned to the temple, the student told Kyong Ho Sunim of his conversation with Mr. Lee.

To the student's amazement, Kyong Ho Sunim kicked open the door and came running out. "That's it! The cow with no nostrils!" He later wrote a poem to mark the occasion:

I heard about the cow with no nostrils,

And suddenly the whole universe is my home.

Yon-am mountain lies flat under the road,

A farmer, at the end of his work, is singing.



This week's stories are taken from Thousand Peaks, by Mu Soeng Sunim.

