The story is spare, almost skeletal. Emperor Wu of Liang — a devout Buddhist who had built temples, commissioned sutras, supported the Sangha — meets the legendary Indian monk Bodhidharma.
The Encounter
"What is the highest meaning of the holy truths?" the emperor asks.
"Vast emptiness, nothing holy," Bodhidharma replies.
"Who is it that stands before me?"
"I don't know."
The emperor doesn't understand. Bodhidharma crosses the Yangtze and sits facing a wall at Shaolin Temple for nine years.
Working With It
The temptation is to explain. "Vast emptiness" means sunyata, the Buddhist concept of emptiness. "Nothing holy" means non-duality. "I don't know" means beginner's mind.
Stop. The koan isn't asking you to explain it. It's asking you to stand where Bodhidharma stands.
What is it like to not know who you are? What is it like to say "nothing holy" to the most powerful man in China? What is it like to sit facing a wall for nine years — not because you're disciplined, but because there's nowhere else to go?
The Wall
The wall is the koan's secret. Bodhidharma didn't face the wall to punish himself. He faced it because the wall doesn't care about your credentials, your empire, your accumulated merit. The wall is just the wall.
And in that just-ness, there is vast emptiness.
A Practice Suggestion
Sit facing a wall. Not a screen, not a window — a wall. Set a timer for 10 minutes. When thoughts arise, let them hit the wall. Don't catch them. Don't dodge them. Let the wall do its work.