Hearing a single strike, all that was known is forgotten.
Clearly, no further cultivation is required.
The night wind shakes the bamboo before the courtyard—
Was this not the moment Xiangyan’s last knot fell away?
COMMENTARY BY KŌDŌ SAWAKI
One Hit, and All Knowledge Is Forgotten
There was once a person named Xiangyan (Jpn. Kyōgen) who was practicing under master Dawei (Jpn. Daii). At one point, Dawei decided to test his understanding and said, “Without relying on scriptures, and without depending on any commentary, bring me a single phrase.” So Xiangyan tried to come up with something, but being a great scholar, countless lines of scriptures kept coming to his mind. Then, passages from commentaries appeared in his thoughts. This one wouldn’t do. That one wouldn’t do. None of it would work. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t make up a single phrase independent of scripture or commentary.
Struggling with this task, Xiangyan went to master Dawei and said, “I can’t do it. Please teach me.” To this, Dawei replied,“I could teach you, but if I did, you would likely resent me later.” So he refused to help any further. This left Xiangyan frustrated—realizing that all his years of scholarly study were useless, he decided to give up learning entirely and became a meal-server monk.
A long time passed, yet he still couldn’t grasp it. Eventually, he went to the site of National Teacher Dacheng’s (Jpn. Daishō) former place, where he built a small hut in a bamboo thicket. He lived there for years, but still, he could not attain any understanding. He thought to himself, “I’m hopeless. In this life, there’s simply no way forward for me.” Then, one day, while sweeping a path, a piece of stone or tile struck a bamboo stalk with a sharp crack. In that instant, he was jolted awake—his mind fully opened, and he experienced profound enlightenment. At that moment, he spontaneously uttered the following words:
“One hit—and all that I knew was gone.
Never again will I busy myself with self-cultivation.
In every movement, I uphold the ancient Way;
I do not fall into the lifeless stillness.
Wherever I go, I leave no trace;
My bearing lies beyond sound and form.Those in every direction who have realized the Way
All declare this to be the highest capacity.”
“One hit—and all that I knew was gone”—he lost all recognition. Status, fortune and misfortune, the pleasant and the tasteless, likes and dislikes, big and small—all of it vanishes. In one sound of the stick’s strike, there’s only that moment of awakening—nothing else.
Long ago, there was an old woman who would sit in zazen until dawn. Just as morning approached, a rooster crowed, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” Then, the old woman said, “The fields, the mountains, the village, even my own body—what is left to hear in the sound of the rooster’s call?”
Here, it says: “One hit—and all that I knew was gone.” When sitting in zazen, there’s no “how” or “why” to it. It’s not that I prepared myself somehow before hearing the sound of bamboo. That sound fills heaven and earth—pervading everything, just one singular sound of bamboo. And so, the sound of bamboo has a profound, unfathomable depth.
The same thing is taught in the Pure Land teaching of wholehearted focus on the Name of Amitabha Buddha—just Namu Amida Butsu, nothing else. For us, it’s simply sitting in zazen, nothing more. “In every movement, I uphold the ancient Way.” Just that sound of bamboo, nothing but the bamboo sound. If it’s only that, then when we’re in the bath, it’s just bathing; when eating, just eating; when waking, just waking. “I do not fall into the lifeless stillness. Wherever I go, I leave no trace.” No stagnation. Just steadily moving forward, going onward without hesitation. “My bearing lies beyond sound and form. Those in every direction who have realized the Way, All declare this to be the highest capacity.” Indeed, this captures the essence of Zen and embodies Xiangyan’s utmost dedication under Dawei’s guidance. This is the story on the basis of which this verse was composed.
Hearing a single strike, all that was known is forgotten. Clearly, no further cultivation is required. This very body, seeing, hearing, awareness, andknowing, just as it is—the sound of that single “crack”—“clearly, no further cultivation is required.”
The night wind shakes the bamboo before the courtyard. Ah, the wind’s been blowing since last night—rattling and creaking, the sound of bamboo fills the air. It seems the temple grounds are full of thickets; all you hear is that constant rattling and creaking.
Was this not the moment Xiangyan’s last knot fell away? Could it be that moment when Xiangyan got enlightened—that sense of something missing fell away? “Enlightenment” might sound strange, but it’s like he simply slipped out of that structured beat. Ah, that bamboo sound last night was something remarkable. Xiangyan must have attained a deep realization then.
This is a verse composed in remembrance of Xiangyan’s insight upon hearing the bamboo’s sound.