Zen Fountain Poetry

Zen Fountain Poetry

By: Ryan Sagert



The idea is as simple as it is timeless: to gather around the great Koi pond and speak insight as it arises. The Fountain Poets, as they are called, come to the pond from all over the countryside and sit beneath the mighty cypress trees as the sun breaks into first light. Fountain poetry requires no punctuation as the ideas will speak for themselves. You do not need a pen or paper as such implements are useless in painting pictures with unspoken knowledge. Fountain poetry is not about competition nor is it a battle of wits; Zen practitioners will tell you that developing ego-less competition with a fellow human being is like an archer who looks like he is not even aiming, yet sends arrow after arrow to the bull's-eye, time after time.

They come from all walks of life, these Fountain Poets do, equip with words and wisdom, hoping to flow like the formless waters themselves, which have no destination and are in no hurry to arrive.

Master Yoshi had been meditating at the Koi pond for several hours when Benji the carpenter rode up on his horse. Benji bowed respectfully to Master Yoshi.

"Are the others far behind?" Yoshi asked.

Benji shook his head softly, signaling a 'no' as his scruffy hair tumbled.

Master Yoshi was a wise and ancient catfish; he knew his waters well and could adjust to any current if he got off course.

Benji produced a length of rope from his pocket, tying his chocolate stallion to a cypress tree, working diligently to shape his knot into a work of art. Benji noticed even the most marginal imperfection in the twine but failed to take notice of the blinding glint of a sword as it swooped by.

Jen the warrior discarded his sword into its sheath and straightened his samurai garments.

"A warrior is as good with the pen as the sword."

Benji smiled.

At the Koi pond, a group was already gathering. The pond itself was a honeysuckle-laden gift to the senses; prime with aesthetic beauty found only in the deepest meditation. Sitting by the shore, Benji and Jen conversed in whispers: "Ah! Gotatha looks like he's feeling marvelous, and Antei looks like he's not feeling at all!"

Gotatha and Antei were brothers, supposedly but one would never guess seeing them together, they seemed more like Ying and Yang. "Gotatha the optimist and Antei the nihilist. How fitting!"

At the Koi pond, the sweet smell of spring flowers was proliferated by the gentle teasing of bees, oozing with honeycomb nectar. Overhead a dragonfly buzzed and the ear was treated to the almost musical rhythm of dripping water.

Master Yoshi bowed down besides the river, his eyes gleaming over each of the disciples.

He proclaimed: "We come to the Koi pond under the shade of the mighty cypress tree because, like God, we choose to reflect and not to judge."

This is the very nature of transcendence. Consider yourself enlightened!"

A proud looking man stood up, wearing a jerkin that blended in with the trees.

Some of the men had to squint to see him.

"The idea is simple." the man cradled a rock in his hands.

"Recite a brief poem and then cast your stone into the still water; just as the parted liquid continues to ripple outward, so too our thoughts carry us from the finite to the infinite."

At once there was a cool rush for pebbles. "It is as simple as that," the man continued, "and as soon as the poet has cast his stone he is free to leave the pond and return to work."

Master Yoshi tugged on his chin hairs. "You are a warrior, Jen; tell the importance of this stone." "Gladly. The rock is our burden, which we gladly cast into still waters. Viewed with our eyes, the pond appears quite solid, but as soon as the rock nips the water the infinite form disappears and becomes transcendent." Jen paused. "It is at this very moment that our thought is petitioned to the heavens and released from our Chi."

The Fountain Poets gazed deeply into the plum colored water, searching for insight as though it were a discarded coin gleaming from the sand. Those who do not practice Zen cannot understand its implications, for Zen represents an ancient yearning, something that to the mind seems a part of the distant past yet to he who has awakened, never existed at all. Inside the mind of each poet, a clock gently ticked, loud enough to be heard and yet too marginal to be considered alarming.

The cypress trees themselves as old as time, leaned forward to listen to the poets as they spoke their immediate insight.





Born of desire



Man emerges



From his inhibition



To seek forth invention





"Very good," Geisho the teacher said, "It is when we left our caves to seek ourselves."

"Or it is the discovery of lost virtue." says Yoshi.

"I think the poem speaks of our comfort in great longings. It is to be unable to learn from the mightiest library but to find the answer as a leaf in the wind," Gotatha spoke.

An apologetic looking man wisped:





I hunger for knowledge



I thirst for benevolence



I aim at truth



I miss at them all





In a humbled and reigned tone, he bowed and retreated.

"Today has already been interesting." Master Yoshi mused. "We have with us Benji the carpenter, Jen the warrior, and over there is Geisho the teacher, (still learning after all these years)."

The Fountain Poets began to exchange greetings, as though being introduced to each other for the first time, though they had been acquainted for many, many years.

"There's Gotatha and Antei!"

And: "Oh! Majiburi, the farmer," Yoshi added, almost as an afterthought. Then, the poets returned to their quest.





Time is a mountain



Its people a flowing stream



Reflection is not to see the mountain



But to be the water





"I think the poem speaks of the eternal soul; too often we think of ourselves as permanent. We are like mountains, forever eroding away; the enlightened are not like that for they flow towards righteousness," Benji said. No one dared to argue.

"I do not believe we have heard from you, Majiburi." Benji nudged.

"Majiburi, I am speaking to you!" Majiburi kept his glance fixed on the waters.

Gotatha ran his hand over the soft contours of a stone, making note of every invisible texture, as though the pebble were translucent.

"Time." He said simply and walked away.

"Time does what?" Geisho pondered.

"Time echos softly and, even when it speaks, we can scarcely understand the meaning," Master Yoshi guessed.

"Time is the one thing we can never have." Antei sighed, presenting his own words.





In a mirror, man sees reflection



In a lover, man sees pride



In a cloud, man sees himself



In a clock, man sees what he forgot





"Once the ego has come into play, the rest is doomed." Geisho said.

"After the iceberg has struck the mast, it is time to abandon ship?" Benji guessed.

"Beware of sheep who dress in worldly comforts." Master Yoshi said.

"Correct!" Antei shouted.

"Antei, do you consider yourself a teacher?" Geisho asked.

"I am not nor did I ever consider myself a teacher." Antei said.

"Indeed you are, Antei!"

"How so?" Antei mused.

"Why Antei, don't you think that there is at least something others can learn from you?"

"A teacher indeed" Antei laughed heartily as he took his leave.

The Fountain Poets continued until the sun had ascended above the cypress trees, presenting the illusion of great darkness to those inside the forest, as the sun was masked by the dangling branches. One by one, they disappeared, faster now than ever; midday was not far off and everyone wanted to return home for lunch. The cooperative spirit had worn off; perhaps it too was cast into the cool waters. Master Yoshi quietly slipped away, sensing hostility, while squabbling men heaved rocks into muddy water. The speculation had become more competitive, with men lined up on either side of the pond as though cheering for a sporting event; and even though the participants dare not insult one another, a look of contempt formed on each poet's face as soon as the poem was spoke.

Benji listened to deluded thinkers craft child-like proverbs. Like butter on a summer day, they melted away, defeated in a war that was never declared. Benji thought to himself: "I have outwitted everybody; surely there is none as great as me." But that was before he noticed a scrawny man wearing peasant's clothing, watching the pond ripple. It was Majiburi, the farmer.

"So we are all that's left?" Majiburi said, faintly.

"Yes, I propose we finish this off."

Benji waved his hands in the air as though directing a celestial orchestra, raising his eyebrows with a rat-like confidence and growled:





Two roads



Which follow an unnamed path



Diverge at the shores of righteousness



To separate father from son





"Majiburi, since you have been so quiet, you must have some great idea locked up in your head."

"Majiburi?" Benji said, clearly frustrated.

Majiburi sat, absorbing the water.

Finally Benji spoke: "You do realize that by not presenting a comeback you are granting victory to me?"

I thought Zen was about cooperation,

Majiburi though.

When was this ever about victory?

From somewhere in the distance, Majiburi heard the pedantic rant of Benji the carpenter, but it was barely noticeable; too often we think of ourselves as permanent. We are like mountains, forever eroding away; the enlightened are not like that for they flow towards righteousness. The very words Benji the carpenter spoke came back to haunt him, the notion that an idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea which exists only as an idea; that Benji could never understand. Majiburi, the humble peasant farmer with his quiet and humble stare went beyond the world of ego and presented to Benji the greatest wisdom of all, for Majiburi did not speak at all...