When master Mu-nan made Shoju his successor he gave him an old book saying, “This book of wisdom has been written by generations of masters. I myself have added my own comments and understanding. Now it is yours.” Shoju was disinterested. “I learned Zen from you without words,” he said. “I have no use for this book – you keep it.” “It belongs to you,” said Mu-nan, “as a symbol of the teachings you have received – here.” Shoju took the book and immediately threw it into the fire they were both warming themselves around. Mu-nan, who never got angry, yelled, “What are you doing?” Shoju responded calmly, “What are you saying?”
To put any kind of value on written words is not Zen. Zen stands alone as the intrinsic nature of things and reality. It cannot be condensed into words, it has to be lived. The Master shouted because he had identified Zen with the book and the words it contained.
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