The Mirror and the Moon
A reflective poem. Inspired by Je Tsongkhapa and the Middle Way
A traveller wandered, day and night,
Through shifting realms of sound and sight,
Through joy and grief, through loss and gain,
Through fleeting pleasure, fear and pain.
He chased bright forms that seemed so true,
A thousand dreams he struggled through,
Believing all that mind displayed
Was solid, fixed, securely made.
“At last,” he cried, “I’ve found what’s mine!”
Then watched it fade like frost or shine. “
What cruel deceit! What fickle sky!”
Yet still he grasped at passing by.
A Teacher sat beneath a tree,
As still as mountains by the sea.
The traveller bowed and spoke his case:
“Why can I never find a place?
All things I grasp dissolve away.
What truth remains? Show me the way.”
The Teacher smiled with knowing grace.
“You seek a thing that has no place.
Not because nothing can be found,
But because your search is wrongly bound.
The fault is not what does appear.
The error is what you hold dear.
You see appearances arise,
Then add a story and disguise.
You take what merely comes to view
As existing from its own side too.”
The traveller frowned. “Then are things false? A dream? A lie? Mere empty walls?”
The Teacher laughed. “No, not at all. That is another way to fall.
If things existed from their side,
No cause or change could e’er abide.
If things were utterly unreal,
No wound could hurt, no path could heal.
Both views the Buddha taught to leave,
For both are webs that minds conceive.”
The traveller sat and listened well,
While evening shadows softly fell.
The Teacher pointed to the moon
Reflected in a pond at noon.
“Look there.” The traveller answered, “Clear and bright.”
“Does it appear?” “Indeed it might.”
“Can you find the moon within
The water’s depths where fish do swim?”
“No.” “Yet does the image still appear?”
“Yes, Master, vivid, bright and clear.”
“So too all phenomena you see,
Exist in mere dependency.
Appearing clearly to the mind,
Yet no inherent core you’ll find.”
The wind arose among the pines,
Whispering through the mountain lines.
The Teacher spoke: “This body here,
This mind that hopes, This mind that fears,
This self you guard from year to year,
Examine closely. Look sincere.
Among the aggregates can you say,
‘This alone is me today’?
Is form the self? The feelings? Mind?
Where is the owner you can find?”
The traveller searched from crown to sole,
Through every aspect of the whole.
No master self could he locate,
No sovereign standing separate.
Yet still a person seemed to be.
The Teacher said, “Now do you see?
Conventionally a person lives,
Acts, learns, receives and also gives.
Karma ripens. Causes flow.
Seeds are planted. Flowers grow.
But ultimately when you seek
The thing itself, the search grows weak.
The self exists by designation,
Upon aggregates in relation.
Dependent on a basis there,
Not independent, fixed, or bare.”
The traveller’s thoughts grew slow and wide,
Like clouds that drift and then subside.
The Teacher pointed down the road.
“A merchant carries a heavy load.
A mother comforts her crying child.
A fox moves silent through the wild.
Each appears before your eyes.
Now what is wisdom’s great surprise?
Not that appearances should cease.
Not that the world dissolves in peace.
The wonder is that what appears
Exists unlike what ignorance hears.
Appearance whispers: ‘Truly real.’
Wisdom knows: ‘That is not the deal.’
Appearance says: ‘From my own side.’
Dependent origination replies: ‘That cannot abide.’
Appearance claims: ‘I stand alone.’
Emptiness answers: ‘No such throne.’
Appearance shines. Emptiness clears.
Neither conflict. Both appear.”
The stars emerged. The Teacher spoke
Of suffering’s self-created yoke.
“From ignorance comes grasping tight.
From grasping springs attachment’s bite.
From attachment karma comes to be.
From karma turns saṃsāra’s sea.
Thus beings wander high and low,
Where six conditions ebb and flow.
The hell of hatred fiercely burns.
The hungry ghost forever yearns.
The animal’s confusion stays.
The titan fights through jealous days.
Gods drift in pride’s seductive streams.
Humans walk between the dreams.
These realms are not without a cause.
They follow dependent nature’s laws.”
The traveller sat throughout the night,
Reflecting by the moon’s soft light.
At dawn he asked, “Then what is done?
How is awakening truly won?”
The Teacher answered: “Train to see.
Observe each thought carefully.
When pleasure comes, investigate.
When anger comes, do not inflate.
When fear appears, look deeply through.
Ask what exactly seems so true.
Examine well both self and thing.
See what dependent causes bring.
Not to destroy, Not to deny,
Not to reject, Not to comply.
But gently learn through wisdom’s art
How grasping manufactures heartache’s part.
Bring every sound onto the path.
Bring every joy. Bring every wrath.
Bring every gain and every loss.
Bring every burden, every cross.
For every appearance can reveal
Dependent origination’s seal.
And every dependent thing you see
Proclaims its own emptiness silently.”
The sun arose. The traveller gazed
Upon the world he once had praised,
Or feared, Or clung to, Or pushed away.
Nothing vanished that new day.
Mountains remained. The river flowed.
People travelled every road.
Yet something subtle had begun:
A loosening beneath the sun.
The world still appeared, But less confined.
Less grasped. Less frozen by the mind.
And in that space, serene and vast,
The spell of self began to pass.
Not because nothing could be found,
Nor because existence was cast down.
But because dependent origination,
Seen correctly without fabrication,
Revealed what Buddhas always knew:
The way things seem And the way they are Are not the same view.
Thus appearance protects from nihility.
Emptiness protects from fixity.
And joined as one, beyond conception,
They open wisdom’s clear perception.
So may this mirror of the Way
Plant seeds within the mind today.
And through reflection, insight born,
May self-grasping become outworn.
Until appearance and emptiness unite,
Like moon and water in the night,
And the mindstream, freed from clinging’s art,
Discovers the Buddha-nature of its heart.