The Meaning and Value of a Koan

by Zen Master David


“ How can I achieve kensho ? ”

“ Ask who is there to achieve it ! ”

Zen Master David © 2001


Koan a Japanese term used in Zen Buddhism for baffling exercises set by Zen Masters to enable their pupils to break out of normal thought into a sudden awareness of enlightenment. They had been developed by the Chan Masters of Tang China (618-906 AD), and often took the form of illogical and unusual answers to slightly absurd questions that were later written down and gathered into collections. These collections were later developed in Japan and used to lead students to progressively deeper stages of realisation. The school of Soto Zen founded by Dogen (1200-53 AD) used koans sparingly, whereas the Rinzai Zen school founded by Eisai (1141-1215 AD) used them more systematically. Examples of koans are as follows: Umman was asked ‘What is the pure dharmakaya [cosmic body of the Buddha)?’ He replied ‘The blossoming hedge around the privy.' A monk asked Joshu ‘What is the meaning of the coming of Bodhidharma to the West?’ Joshu replied ‘The cypress tree in the garden.' A monk asked Joshu ‘Has a dog got Buddha nature?’ Joshu answered ‘Mu’ — nothing.
Chambers Dictionary of Beliefs and Religions 1992
ISBN 0-550-15000-5

Having read the above excellent definition one could be forgiven for believing that a koan had some mystical quality which was the sole preserve of the Zen Master. This is because in most cases the work of a koan is seen as a progressive process towards a belief in enlightenment.

In Contemporary Zen this is not the case, a koan is seen as a paradox not as a means to an end. It is irresolvable, that is its value — why then use the word koan? Surely a new word would be much clearer, yes it probably would, but I feel the word is used correctly by Contemporary Zen, as it used to be by some of the original Zen Masters. In my view the sole function of a koan is to challenge the identity of the separate nature of self, that is, that no such thing as a “me” or “I” exists separate to the brain. No observer, feeler, seer, hearer or doer exists only a process of observing, feeling, hearing or doing by the brain.


In writing about this I am well aware of the contradiction I am bound to raise and that my views of the existing ways of working are neither right nor wrong, but simply my limitations of it. I also realise in raising this subject it might be considered to be almost heretical in certain quarters, but raise it I must.


As a Master of Zen, I have worked over the years with hundreds of students, nine who have achieved kensho. I do not view such an achievement as remarkable or unusual given the methods that are employed. It is the inevitable consequence of patience and persistence by the student. The inevitable consequence owes more to openness of approach rather than the limit. What do I mean?

Some schools of Zen define koans as a progressive process leading to a defined limit in realisation that is affirmed by the Master. I do not wish to criticise such a state but in my experience such procedures are not essential and should not rely on the judgement of the Master. The principle purpose of a koan is to provide a mirror of self-reflection that challenges the nature of a separate self. The skill of the Master is to provide the correct reflection at a time that raises in the student a direct crisis in identity. It is a challenge of brain's belief in its existence as separate self.

Experience has taught me when dealing with students who have worked with some Roshi's koans that they have become a mark of progress, to be resolved at the determination of the Roshi. My reply to such an achievement is "So what?" Koans are not medals of achievement; their purpose is one of confrontation not merit.


Over the years I have tried many approaches around the use of the koan and without doubt the best is to incorporate the experience of the student into the koan itself, to use the experience in a reflective way that allows the student to see the contradiction arising.

This requires a great knowledge of the work of each student and I used to spend many hours with each one. There is no way you can set a programme of work for a group of students using the same format. Each person is a unique experience, in no way is this work able to broaden into some general understanding. At Peacefields Retreat I worked with a maximum of five people at a time. So students were divided into groups for this important work.


A koan has to relate as close as possible to the moment of discussion. It is a tilt of the mirror that reflects a relationship that has been missed by the student. It often brings the student to a mental standstill. The demand is for its resolution, with the knowledge that the resolution is impossible. The contradiction of the koan is the essence of Zen.


Contradictions abound in the use of the meaning of the koan, I have seen students taught a series of koans as a means of progression towards a belief system. I have actually seen Non-Buddhist Monks and Nuns using the koan as a means of teaching students an understanding of self-awareness, with no apparent contradiction about the separate nature of self. This is a clear ploy to embrace the 'Zen Paradox', that the koan represents, and by so doing to embrace the paradox in a way that can be subjectively conducive with religious beliefs. Such diversionary tactics are to be deplored for they leave the student totally confused.


The koan is a simple device that once employed throws the mind into total confusion where an irresolvable dichotomy arises. On the one hand the need to resolve the koan and on the other hand a realisation that it is impossible to do so. The consequence of this dichotomy is the mind realises after considerable effort the nonsense of the koan and “let’s go” of the need to resolve the separate nature of self and what emerges is a freedom to experience life free of faiths, belief systems, concepts and ideas. This is the simple function of a koan and nothing more.That is not to say that the student does not employ belief systems as part of their day-to-day life, but realises that’s just what they are. For such a simple process only one koan is needed and to the multiple koan fraternity I would say this “who needs more than one koan?” With the help of a Master who provides a constant challenge, no mystery exists in the process at all, the process of Mondo, (an interaction between student and master), is all that is needed, with the dedication and commitment of the Student.

© David Ferguson 2010