When Yamada Roshi was asked what Zen practice is for, he said, “The perfection of character.” In this talk we track the evolution of the teacher Deshan, from young firebrand to mellow custodian of the Way, to explore the importance of character in a world that often seems to sneer at gentleness and compassion.

Laotzu taught that “knowing enough’s enough is enough to know". How do we practice this “knowing enough”? And what might we learn from our own meal ceremony and liturgy to help us live a simpler and more embodied life?

On the third night of sesshin we meet Daowu and his student Jianyuan, who are off to conduct a funeral in the nearby village. Things take an unexpected turn when the student Jianyuan raps on the coffin and demands, “Living or dead?” Daowu takes his student’s question and cares for it in the most thoroughgoing way, beyond even his own death.

On the second night of sesshin we encounter an old woman who says, “Go straight ahead!” What does she mean? How do we go straight ahead? And how does this practice fit hand in glove with the crooked path of genuine awakening?

On the first night of sesshin we take up three encounters from Shitou Xiqian (700-790) to see how they illuminate “Mu”, the great syllable of emptiness. We also spend a bit of time with dogs, who never fail to shake off the very human temptation to “have or have not”.

In a world being torn apart by war, it’s impossible not to think of the brokenness of our time, and how we might respond to this brokenness. Zen Master Yanguan offered his own unlikely response when he said, after discovering that his precious rhinoceros fan was broken, “Well, if the fan is broken, bring me the rhinoceros.” What did he mean? How might we learn from his left-of-field invitation? And what is it to respond from the dark of not-knowing instead of the more limited perspective of knowing?

In this talk, we meet Yanguan Qi’an, one of Mazu’s primary dharma heirs. Yanguan lived right up until the Huichang Persecution of 840-845, where 4,600 Buddhist temples were destroyed and 260,000 monks and nuns were displaced. Not only did his teaching endure, but his influence led to a restoration of temples and practice throughout China, and a flourishing of Zen that continues to this day. So what did he teach? How did he convey the simplicity of Mazu’s “ordinary mind”? And how might this be useful in our own time of uncertainty, with so much violence and displacement shaking the globe? This talk was given as part of Zen Open Circle’s Taking Part in the Gathering.

This talk was offered into a round of silent meditation during Zen Open Circle’s Taking Part in the Gathering. It explores the Chinese characters for “ordinary mind” and opens them up for contemplation. This talk preceded a much longer talk on Yanguan Chi’an, one of Mazu’s colourful dharma heirs.

Birds have always been great Zen teachers. In this talk, we take up the miscellaneous koan, “My relaxed gaze freely follows the tracks of flying birds” and examine what implications this might have for our practice today. We also meet Niutou Farong, a fascinating figure from the 6-7th Century, who meditated in a cave and was visited by birds “with flowers in their mouths”. What was going on? And why did these very same birds stop arriving with flowers in their mouths after Niutou spoke with the fourth Zen ancestor, Daoxin? This talk was given in Castlemaine on 15/3/26.

At the start of 2026, it’s time to get back to basics. That’s what Zen is all about, after all. Instead of spending our time curating a perfectly polished “self”, we learn to let this “self” go and draw closer to what Zen masters of old called “someone”. This someone, who has no name or form, is nevertheless standing, sitting, walking and lying down. Can we rely on this “someone” and their innate, practical wisdom, even when we’re sitting on the point of a needle? Even in these perilously complicated times?