Sōzan Shows Heidegger the Way

A teisho by Sensei Michael Brunner during Rohatsu Sesshin, 2024

This practice—what a wonderful practice. Each of us came here because of something in our life, something that sparked a deeper question. A question about the essence of our existence. About what it’s all about. About what lies beyond the surface of things. About what lies beyond what we’ve been conditioned to believe.

But here’s the catch: the very questions that bring us to practice are already tangled in the net of our conceptual clinging. They’re shaped by the frameworks we’re trying to move beyond. And as long as we operate from a place of knowing, we’re caught.

We’re caught in the gravity of the self, unable to escape the pull of reason. The self becomes a satellite in the orbit or service of our prejudices and fixed ideas. What happens when we let go of knowing? Oh no, we couldn’t possibly do that! Knowing feels so stable, so safe. But is it really working out for you? There’s a lot of suffering in that place!

What happens when we release the need to resolve our questions and instead step into the truth of our lived experience?

Heidegger’s Kehre (Radical Turning)

There was a philosopher—a Western philosopher—named Martin Heidegger. He passed away in 1976. He was born in 1889. I always think of him as a classical figure, but then I remember he actually lived during my lifetime. Same questions we’re talking about here right now.

Heidegger was a German philosopher, widely regarded as one of the most influential figures in existentialism and phenomenology. His work explores the very nature of being, what it means to exist, and challenges many of the traditional Western philosophical assumptions we’ve inherited.

Take Cogito ergo sum—“I think, therefore I am.” Who is this one that thinks? Heidegger argued that much of human life is spent in a state of inauthentic being, where individuals lose themselves in what he called das Man. This isn’t “man” as in male—it’s the collective force of conformity. Das Man is the social mode of being, where we live according to how we think we ought to be, shaped by external expectations. Heidegger called this “living inauthentically”, clinging to roles and expectations instead of living from our true essence.

Does that sound familiar?

This clinging to roles, identities, and external validation acts as a barrier to authentic self-understanding. Heidegger called for Kehre, a radical turning. It requires confronting the truth of impermanence—what he called “being-towards-death.”

In other words, looking directly at the wonder and impermanence of life and death and peeling back the layers of illusion to discover what is most essential. But what is this Kehre, this radical turning? It’s one thing to know about it conceptually. It’s another thing entirely to step into it.

Sōzan’s Journey

There’s a case in the Shoyoroku, Case 87, that speaks to this turning toward radical authenticity. Sōzan Kyōmian, a master who lived during the Tang Dynasty, was one of the key figures in solidifying and transmitting the Sōtō lineage. This was during Zen’s so-called Golden Age—a time when practice emphasized direct experience, transmission outside of words and letters, and the kind of lively exchanges preserved in texts like the Shoyoroku.

Sōzan traveled roughly 1,000 miles, in abject poverty, to ask Isan:
"I have heard it said, ‘To be with or without words is like a vine dependent on a tree. When suddenly the tree falls, the vine withers. Where do the words return to?’"

Isan laughs.
Sōzan, frustrated, says, "I’ve come 4,000 li selling cushions. How can you play around with me?"
Isan calls his attendant and says, "Give this monk some money." Then he adds, "Later, a one-eyed dragon will enlighten you."

Sōzan continues his journey. He retells the question to another teacher, Myosho, who observes, "Isan was right from head to tail, but you haven’t met the one who knows." Only later does Sōzan realize, "From the first, Isan’s laughter had a sword!"

The One-Eyed Dragon

What’s in that laughter? It cuts through Sōzan’s clinging. He’s holding on to the framework of his question, clinging to the tree of reason. And because of that, he misses the answer that’s already here. Every step of his journey—selling cushions, traveling 1,000 miles—was awakening itself. But Sōzan couldn’t see it because he was too focused on finding something “out there.”

And isn’t that us? Striving, searching for awakening as if it’s somewhere else, while missing that it’s right here. Dōgen said the way-seeking mind is enlightenment itself. Every breath, every step, is practice. There’s no “getting there.” You’re already here.

The one-eyed dragon Isan spoke of isn’t mythical. It’s the clarity that arises when we stop seeing with the two eyes of duality—self and other, right and wrong. These two eyes bind us to judgment and striving. The one eye is the eye of wisdom, the eye that sees beyond. It’s the eye through which the universe looks back at you.

What keeps us clinging to the two-eyed view? Fear, maybe. Fear of letting go, of losing control. But the one-eyed dragon is already within you. You don’t find it by chasing—it appears when you let go.

So what are the trees you’re clinging to? What happens when they fall? Will you wither like the vine, or will you discover the deeper vine that’s always been there, sustaining you? Can you hear Isan’s laughter now? Can you meet it?