Another Question for Old Joshu

Do the dead have Buddha Nature?

This question popped into my mind while we sat staring at the wall last night. I remembered it and then went back to wall staring. Later, remembering it, I thought it was a frivolous, silly question, but then I remembered Joshu's answer about the dog. Maybe it's not such a silly question. Mu. 

--Bobby Kankin

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So I found the image above on The Empty Page blog managed by Steve Naegele. His description is more interesting than mine: 

The first character in the above painting is the character for “Mu.” the two character taken together are “Mu Shin” and refer to the empty  mind of Zen or sometimes Buddhism in general. This is a painting which hangs on my wall. I got it in San Francisco Chinatown one day about 15 years ago  while in a card/paper shop which I often visited/ I lfirst learned at that time that the shop would be closing and the old man there would write calligraphy for you for a price. I asked him to write MuShin which he did for $15.00 ($7.50 a character), but he obviously was not familiar with the Buddhist meaning and muttered aloud about whatever for someone would want the characters for “no heart.” He still wrote beautiful characters and I enjoy seeing this everyday.

Thanks, Mr. Wang Wei

When I was in college, I studied Japanese and Chinese Literature. My favorite for a year or so was Wang Wei, Chinese poet and painter in the 8th Century (Tang Dynasty). I often credit him and his cohorts--Li Po, Tu Fu, Cold Mountain, all the rest of those crazy Chinese poets and their Japanese brethren (Basho, Issa and that ilk) that came along later--with saving my life. They understood quite clearly that nothing is permanent, that everything was changing one moment to the next, including themselves. Here's a painting and two poems by Wang Wei.

--Bobby Kankin Byrd

A portrait of Fu Sheng by Wang Wei

Passing Hsiang-chi Temple

Oblivious, I pass Hsiang-chi Temple
walking on through mountain cloud,
an empty trail through ancient trees.
Deep in the mountains, a bell resounds.

The susurrus rivr flows among stones.
Sunlight streams through frozen pines.
In this still pool, in falling light
Zen overcomes the serpents of delusion.

One-Hearted

When those red beans come in springtime,
Flushing on your southland branches,
Take home an armful, for my sake,
As a symbol of our love.

NOTE: "Passing Hsiang-chi Temple" from The Poetry of Zen translated by Sam Hamill and J.P. Seaton. "One-Hearted" copied and pasted from the Wikipedia page linked to above. 

Poem by Ryokan

I was cleaning out my office at home. It's a mess. Books and CDs and lost ideas. It always takes me a long time because my mind wanders like a housefly. And I stop to visit with old books of poems. Like this poem I opened to in Between the Floating Mist (White Pine Press, 1992) by Ryokan and translated by Dennis Maloney and Hide Oshiro. The poem brought me back to myself. Have a good weekend. Sit strong. --Bobby Kankin Byrd

The flower does not invite the butterfly
and the butterfly has no intention of visiting the flower.
But when the flowers bloom the butterfly comes
and when the butterfly comes the flowers bloom.
I don't know these others,
and they don't know me either,
but we are all followers of the way.