Castlemaine Zen Podcast

In this talk, we explore the spectre of AI with the help of Nanquan Puyuan (748-835), who popularised the saying, “Ordinary mind is the Way.” There’s no question that AI is extraordinary. But can it be ordinary in the sense that Nanquan offers? What are we missing if we remain dazzled in the glare of screens and processed information? Might we be blind to what is right before our eyes? On one occasion, Nanquan bent over, pointed to a small flower plant, and said, “People of the present day see this flower as though living in a dream.” Zen practice has always committed itself to waking up from this small dream of separation into the great dream of shared presence. You might even say that it is forever breaking through artificial forms of intelligence to reveal genuinely embodied forms of intelligence. So let’s sit with Nanquan’s flower to see what it has to say. Have you ever seen Nanquan’s flower? What’s it like? Has it ever seen you? If so, you’ll know that there is nothing artificial about it, and that it holds more wisdom than any data centre could dream of.

Zen was forged in the fire of change. In 10th Century China, the old teacher Fengxue asked, “When Buddhism was destroyed during the Huichang persecution (9th Century), where did all the dharma protecting deities go?” He wanted to know why so many monks and nuns were forced from their temples into the burning streets. Who – or what – was looking after them then? The Venerable Guanghui Zhen responded, “The world protecting deities were in the marketplace the whole time, only no one saw them.” Zen practice isn’t protected by supernatural forces: it’s protected by you and me. We are the ones who embody it fully, whether at home or in the marketplace, quietly nourishing what is most important. So how do we protect our practice? How do we share it with others? And how will you extend your realisation to future generations?

Each morning at sesshin we chant the verse of the rakusu: “I wear the robe of liberation / the formless field of benefaction / the teachings of the Tathagata / saving the many beings.” What is this about? What is it pointing to? And what might this mean in our contemporary world? This talk was given on the fourth night of the winter sesshin in Hobart 2026.

In this talk, we explore what it means to journey with a “genjokoan”, and how Layman Pang merrily blurred the boundaries between east and west, inside and outside, ordinary and holy, difficult and easy. This talk was given on the third night of the winter sesshin in Hobart 2026.

Zen Master Caoshan was once asked, “The world is so hot, where can I go to escape?” Caoshan responded, “Escape into a boiling cauldron, into the coals of a furnace.” What sort of escape is this? Why would we want to go into the heat instead of running away from it? This talk was given on the second night of the winter sesshin in Hobart 2026.

On the first night of the Mountains and Rivers Zen Sesshin in Hobart, we take up the koan Mu, fall through the Heart Sutra, and affirm what it is to be a non-attained buddha.

In this talk, we examine the true nature of “bearing witness”. This is not some sort of detached, impervious position found “outside” our circumstances, but a willing capacity to “bear with” whatever comes. To explore this more deeply, we wake up the old Chinese formulation of "The eight winds", which are traditionally parsed as gain, loss, defamation, grief, praise, slander, pain and joy. The full gamut of human experience, you might say! So how do we face our winds? What do the ancestors have to say about meeting them completely? This talk was given as part of Zen Open Circle’s Taking Part in the Gathering Term 2 of practice. Note that the first few minutes of this talk were not recorded.

In this talk, we take up the “Sho Sai Myo Kichijo Dharani”. DT Suzuki famously said that, “Properly speaking, the dharani has no legitimate place in Zen.” So why do we chant it? What is a magic spell for “averting calamities” doing in our sutra book? And if nobody knows what the words actually mean – only approximate translations can be summoned from the sounds – then what is its value? Since the 5th Century in China, dharanis have been recognised for their profound “holding power” (dharani comes from the Sanskrit root dhr, which means “to hold or maintain”). So to chant the Sho Sai Myo Kichijo Dharani, which we do three times after the Heart Sutra, aligns us with something prior to meaning and interpretation. Might a refamiliarization with what cannot be known or pinned down avert the greatest calamity of all, our propensity to have fixed ideas about the world and its bounty?

The world can be a noisy place. We battle for attention, but in the process can lose our capacity for listening. In this talk, we examine what it means to become a zhiyin - someone who “knows the tune”. Do we really know the tune of our partners, children, friends, neighbours and fellow workers, asks Nelson Foster? Because only then can we respond to them “appropriately and beneficially.” So how do we become a zhiyin ? And what is this tune that we are tuning into? This talk was given in Castlemaine on 21/6/26.

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?

With our end-of-year Jukai Ceremony fast approaching, we take up the questions, “What is a Bodhisattva? How does a bodhisattva act in the world? And how do the precepts liberate wise action in the world?” To bring this forth we meet Mahasattva Fu, a younger contemporary of Bodhidharma, who became a teacher of the Emperor. Affectionately known as “The Motley Bodhisattva”, he demonstrates just how inclusive the Way is, and how with every move we make we can “take hold of the plough with empty hands.”