Shinjinmei
Introduction
The Shinjinmei — "inscription (銘) on trust (信) in mind (心)" — is attributed to the Third Patriarch of Chan, Jianzhi Sengcan (鑑智僧璨, died 606). It is one of the oldest poems of Chan Buddhism, and one of the most influential in the entire Zen tradition.
Its central teaching is radical: the Great Way is not difficult — one need only cease to pick and choose. All suffering comes from discrimination, preference, and rejection. When one stops opposing reality, the mind rests in itself, naturally vast and free as space.
The poem unfolds in four-character verses, with remarkable precision and density. Each stanza is a thrust that outwits conceptual grasping. The Shinjinmei is regularly cited by Dōgen, Huang Po, and masters of the Rinzai and Sōtō lineages as a direct expression of the nature of awakening.
The Great Way is not difficult —
one need only cease to pick and choose.
Without love or hatred,
it appears clearly, vast and open.
To make even the smallest distinction
opens an abyss between heaven and earth.
If you wish to see the truth,
hold no opinions for or against.
The opposition between liked and disliked —
this is the sickness of the mind.
Without recognizing the deep mystery,
one exhausts oneself in vain trying to still one's thoughts.
Round like great space,
lacking nothing, lacking nothing in excess —
it is by choosing and rejecting
that it escapes you.
Do not pursue conditioned phenomena,
do not abide in inner emptiness.
In peaceful unity,
contradictions dissolve of themselves.
Wanting to stop movement to find rest,
that rest becomes movement again.
As long as one remains in dualism,
how can one know unity?
Without understanding unity,
both paths go astray.
To reject existence is to plunge into it;
to follow emptiness is to turn one's back on it.
The more one speaks and thinks,
the further one strays from the truth.
Cease speaking and thinking —
nowhere that cannot be passed through.
To return to the root is to grasp the substance;
to seek the light is to lose the source.
A single moment of inner turning
surpasses the emptiness of apparent void.
The transformations in apparent emptiness
all arise from our false views.
There is no need to seek the truth —
simply cease holding opinions.
Do not remain in dualism,
nor pursue it either.
If the slightest trace of good and evil remains,
the mind is lost in confusion.
The two exist because of the one;
do not cling to the one either.
When a single mind does not arise,
the ten thousand phenomena are without fault.
No fault, no phenomena;
no arising, no mind.
The subject ceases with the object,
the object disappears with the subject.
The object is object because there is a subject;
the subject is subject because there is an object.
Know that the two
are at bottom but a single emptiness.
In this single emptiness the two are identical,
containing the ten thousand phenomena.
Without seeing coarse and subtle,
how can there be any taking of sides?
The great Way is vast and wide —
neither easy nor difficult.
Narrow minds are full of doubts and fears,
haste and delay alike slow them down.
To cling to it is to lose the measure;
the mind inevitably enters a wrong path.
To let go is natural and unimpeded —
the deep nature neither departs nor remains.
According to original nature, in accord with the Way,
free and unimpeded, one wanders without trouble.
Bound by thought, one loses reality —
sinking into sleep is certainly not good.
It is burdensome to seek the Way with a sick mind;
how could there be discernment or penetration?
If you wish to enter the one vehicle,
do not hold aversion toward the six sense faculties.
The six sense faculties, not hated,
return to awakening.
The wise one seeks nothing;
the foolish one binds themselves.
The Dharma has no different dharmas;
it is the deluded mind that clings and seeks.
To use the mind to grasp the mind —
is this not a great mistake?
Rest and agitation, delusion and awakening —
the awakened mind makes no discrimination.
All pairs of opposites
come from erroneous reasoning.
Dreams, illusions, flowers in the air —
why strive to grasp them?
Gain and loss, right and wrong —
let them all go at once.
If the eyes do not sleep,
all dreams cease of themselves.
If the mind makes no discrimination,
the ten thousand phenomena are one.
In the depth of this one,
the ten thousand phenomena forget their wandering.
When one sees the ten thousand phenomena as equal,
one returns to original nature.
Without cause, without comparison,
movement stopped, no movement;
when such movement is no longer movement,
how could there be any rest?
When one fully realizes this,
affairs and principles coincide.
When affairs and principles coincide,
rest and movement are one.
When the two are one,
how could the ten thousand phenomena not be contained?
The subtle mind, worthy of trust,
distinguishes neither one nor two.
All things on the same road,
brief or long, their withdrawal belongs to them.
The subject is subject because there are objects;
objects are objects because there is a subject.
To know that the two
are at bottom but a single emptiness —
in this single emptiness, the two are unified,
the ten thousand phenomena are contained within it.
Without seeing coarse and subtle,
how could any taking of sides exist?
Trust in mind is without duality;
non-duality is trust in mind.
The way is beyond words and language —
past, present, future — no yesterday, no tomorrow.
Attributed to Jianzhi Sengcan (鑑智僧璨), Third Patriarch of Chan, died 606. One of the oldest and most influential poems of the Zen tradition.