Chan (or Zen) is derived from the Sanskrit term dhyāna, meaning “tranquil contemplation.” It refers to the practice of observing one’s thoughts in meditative stillness, eliminating delusions, and awakening genuine wisdom. This is the academic definition.
Broadly speaking, Chan is the practice of cultivating the mind. No matter which Buddhist school you follow—Esoteric Buddhism, Pure Land, Tiantai, Yogācāra, Huayan, Madhyamaka, or Vinaya—Chan is deeply interconnected with them all. For a true practitioner, Chan is inseparable from daily life: whether walking, standing, sitting, reclining, speaking, remaining silent, moving, or being still, Chan is always present. As Master Yongjia says in the Song of Enlightenment:
“Walking is Chan, sitting is Chan;
In speech or silence, in motion or stillness, the essence remains at ease.”
Thus, Chan is everywhere and at all times.
However, in a narrower sense, Chan refers to a distinct Buddhist tradition that can be generally divided into two types: “Tathāgata Chan” and “Patriarch Chan.”
- Tathāgata Chan (see Note 1) is based on the teachings of the Buddha as recorded in scriptures, which is why it is also known as “Scriptural Chan”.
- Patriarch Chan does not depend on sutras or doctrines. It is “not reliant on written words, but passed directly from mind to mind.” For this reason, it is also called “Extra-Scriptural Chan”
Origins of Chan Buddhism
According to the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp (Vol. 3), Bodhidharma arrived in China during the Putong era of Emperor Wu of Liang’s reign (520-527 CE) to propagate the Dhyāna-dharma. Unlike earlier foreign monks from India or the Western Regions who brought scriptures as the basis of their meditative practices, Bodhidharma did not carry a single sutra nor treatise. This was because the Chan he propagated is “not reliant on written words, directly points to the mind, and awakens one’s innate Buddha-nature.”
Before Bodhidharma, Chan masters such as An Shigao, Kumārajīva, Lokakṣema, and Buddhabhadra all grounded their teachings in scriptural authority. However, after Bodhidharma’s arrival, Chinese Chan shifted from gradual realization through textual study to the approach of sudden-awakening without relying on words.
Bodhidharma transmitted the Dharma to Huike, who then passed it on to Sengcan. However, due to the persecution of Buddhism under Emperor Wu of Northern Zhou, Sengcan had little opportunity to develop his lineage. He later transmitted the teachings to Daoxin, who in turn passed them to Hongren. After Hongren, the Chan school split into two major branches: the Southern School, led by Huineng, and the Northern School, led by Shenxiu. Huineng’s lineage eventually rose to prominence, while Shenxiu’s tradition gradually declined. As a result, Huineng’s school became the dominant mainstream of Chinese Chan.
From Bodhidharma to Huineng, Patriarch Chan was transmitted through six generations. Later traditions honor Bodhidharma as the First Patriarch and Huineng as the Sixth Patriarch. However, it was Huineng who truly brought Chan to full flourishing as a distinct tradition. Not only did he lay the foundations of Chinese Chan, but his teachings remain one of its greatest and most enduring treasures.
Five Houses and Seven Schools
After the mid-Tang dynasty, Patriarch Chan entered an era of vibrant discourse and flourishing diversity. The Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, had many disciples, but Heze Shenhui, Qingyuan Xingsi, and Nanyue Huairang were the most influential. Tradition holds that The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch was compiled by Shenhui. His lineage, later known as the Heze School, saw only limited transmission. In contrast, the once-obscure teachings of Huairang and Xingsi gradually gained prominence, their uninterrupted lineage eventually giving rise to the “Five Houses and Seven Schools” of Chan.
Huairang transmitted the Dharma to Mazu Daoyi, who then passed it to Baizhang Huaihai. From Baizhang, two major branches emerged: one lineage was transmitted from Huangbo Xiyun to Linji Yixuan, giving rise to the Linji School; the other was passed from Guishan Lingyou to Yangshan Huiji, forming the Guiyang School.
Qingyuan Xingsi transmitted the Dharma to Shitou Xiqian. From Shitou’s lineage, two major branches emerged: One branch was transmitted from Yaoshan Weiyan to Yunyan Tansheng, then to Dongshan Liangjie, and finally to Caoshan Benji, establishing the Caodong School. The other branch, through four transmissions from Tianhuang Daowu, reached Xuefeng Yicun. From Xuefeng, the lineage further divided into two schools: one was the Yunmen School, founded by Yunmen Wenyan; the other, after three transmissions from Xuansha Shibei, culminated in Fayan Wenyi establishing the Fayan School.
In this way, the flame of Chan was passed down from master to disciple, and the Five Houses of Chan were successively established, marking the peak of Chan Buddhism’s influence.
By the Northern Song dynasty, the Linji School had been transmitted through six generations to Shishuang Chuyuan, where it split into two branches: the Huanglong School, founded by Huanglong Huinan, and the Yangqi School, established by Yangqi Fanghui.
In summary, from the Sixth Patriarch Huineng in the Tang dynasty to the Chan masters of the Northern Song, the tradition flourished and developed into what became known as the Five Houses and Seven Schools of Chan.
While each of the Five Houses of Chan had its distinct house style, they all remained rooted in the Sixth Patriarch’s core principles of sudden awakening to one’s true nature and self-liberation. The term house style refers to the unique methods each lineage used to guide students:
- Guiyang School: Harmonizing structure and spontaneity, with warmth and gentle guidance.
- Yunmen School: Severing all mental currents, allowing no room for conceptual deliberation.
- Fayan School: Prescribing medicine according to the ailment, clearing away emotional attachments and intellectual grasping.
- Caodong School: Meticulous and methodical, ensuring that words and actions are fully aligned.
- Linji School: A steep and solitary path, wielding shouts and blows as means of direct awakening.
Among these, the Linji School had the greatest influence and the longest-lasting legacy. Its defining methods—sharp encounter dialogues, shouts and blows, koans, and critical phrases—became hallmarks of Chan practice, deeply evocative of its dynamic and penetrating spirit.
Sharp Encounters, Shouts and Blows
What are “sharp encounters”? Chan masters regarded words and language as merely conventional constructs, provisional tools for communication. However, Chan practice is the direct realization of one’s true nature—an experience that transcends linguistic boundaries. To liberate the “true mind,” they broke free from conventional verbal structures and adapted their teachings to each student’s disposition, timing, and circumstances.
Initially, they employed indirect speech, metaphors, hints, and question-answer exchanges. Over time, these methods evolved into physical actions. Broadly speaking, these approaches can be categorized as follows:
At times, Chan masters conveyed their teachings through silence. The Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp (Vol. 14) recounts an episode in which Yaoshan Weiyan ascended the teaching seat but remained silent:
One day, the monastery director invited the master to deliver a Dharma talk. After the assembly had gathered, Yaoshan sat in silence for a long while, then returned to his quarters and closed the door. The director followed him and asked, “Master, you agreed to give a teaching—why did you leave?”
Yaoshan replied, “For sutras, there are sutra masters; for treatises, treatise masters; for precepts, precept masters. So why find fault with this old monk?”
Yaoshan’s response reflected his belief that scriptures, treatises, and precepts could be expounded—but Chan could not be captured in words. As the saying goes, “The moment something is expressed in language, it turns into mere conceptual play.” Words, rather than revealing the truth, only bind the student’s mind, obstructing the direct realization of the true mind.
At times, Chan masters guided students using unconventional language. The Compendium of the Five Lamps records an exchange between Zhaozhou Congshen and a student:
A student asked, “Does a cypress tree have Buddha-nature?”
Zhaozhou replied, “It does.”
The student asked, “When will it become a Buddha?”
Zhaozhou said, “When empty space falls to the ground.”
The student pressed further, “When will empty space fall to the ground?”
Zhaozhou answered, “When the cypress tree becomes a Buddha.”
On the surface, this exchange appears circular and self-contradictory. Yet Chan masters deliberately employed such unconventional speech to cut through students’ conceptual thinking, leading them beyond the confines of logic and language. This way, they are prompted to turn inward, revealing the transformative power of direct insight.
The Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp (Vol. 5) recounts a Chan exchange where the master’s response seemed entirely unrelated to the question:
A monk asked, “All phenomena return to One—where does the One return?”
The master replied, “When I was in Qingzhou, I had a robe made of coarse cloth that weighed seven pounds.”
The monk’s question arose from the mistaken notion that the Buddha-nature abides in a particular place, still constrained within the framework of time and space—an attachment to conditioned existence. The master’s seemingly irrelevant reply implied that the true mind is utterly unrelated to the monk’s intellectual speculation.
Chan masters sometimes used physical actions to awaken their disciples. The Blue Cliff Record (Case 42) recounts an exchange where Pang Yun struck a monk during a snowfall:
One day, Pang Yun took leave of Yaoshan. Yaoshan instructed several disciples to escort him. As they reached the monastery gate, snowflakes swirled through the air, filling everyone with joy and wonder.
Pang pointed to the sky and said, “What fine snowflakes—never falling elsewhere!”
A monk immediately asked, “Then, where do they fall?”
Hearing this, Pang slapped the monk on the shoulder.
Pang, already enlightened, saw that the snowflakes “never fall elsewhere” because his mind was free from dualistic distinctions such as movement and stillness. Snowflakes appear to drift downward, but in truth, “all phenomena are inherently empty, neither moving nor still, neither coming nor going”. If the snowflakes never truly move, how could they fall anywhere?
The monk, unable to grasp Pang’s insight, was immersed in his own conceptual mind. Instead of appreciating the moment’s profound clarity, he clung to distinctions of movement and rest, presence and absence, prompting Pang to slap him as a reminder.
What are “shouts and strikes”? Building on the use of sharp encounters, Chan masters might employ a loud shout or a sudden strike with a staff to eliminate the deluded thinking of their students and test the depth of their awakening. These methods served to jolt practitioners out of their attachments, instantly revealing the Buddha-nature inherent in their own minds.
According to tradition, the use of the staff began with the Tang Dynasty masters Deshan Xuanjian and Huangbo Xiyun, while the shout was pioneered by Linji Yixuan—hence the saying, “Deshan’s staff, Linji’s shout.”
Koans and Critical Phrases
The term “koan” (公案) originally referred to legal cases or judicial precedents used by Tang dynasty authorities to decide disputes. Later, Chan Buddhists began recording the words and actions of eminent masters as guiding examples for practitioners. Over time, these records evolved into cherished precepts—mottos that inspire reflection and provide direct insight. Because they were regarded as both thought-provoking and unassailably authoritative—much like a court’s ruling—these teachings came to be simply known as “koans.”
This trend began in the Tang Dynasty and reached its peak in the Song. Chan Buddhism recorded roughly 1,700 koans, though only about 500 have become widely circulated and commonly used. All of these are preserved within the Chan canonical classics.
Chan practice also includes the use of “critical phrases”, though a critical phrase is not the same as a koan. A critical phrase is a single word or sentence excerpted from a koan to serve as the object of meditation. For example, consider the famous “Zhaozhou’s Dog” koan from The Gateless Gate:
A monk asked Zhaozhou, “Does a dog have Buddha-nature?”
Zhaozhou replied, “None!”
Wumen Huikai’s commentary states: “To penetrate Chan, one must pass through the Patriarchs’ Gateway; true awakening requires exhausting the path of the mind… [text omitted]… What is the Patriarchs’ Gateway? It is contained in a single word—‘None’—the very first gateway of our tradition.”
Here, the word “None!” is the critical phrase, while the entire exchange forms the koan.
But if Buddhist sutras teach that all beings possess Buddha-nature, why would Zhaozhou deny it? The apparent contradiction is intentional. By employing the non-logical, paradoxical nature of koans, Chan masters shatter conventional thought patterns and habitual reasoning. This deliberate disruption incites a state of doubt—a catalyst that awakens the mind to its Prajna Wisdom of True Reality.
Using words to explain the Dharma risks turning it into personal conceptual views, leading to attachment to teachings. Yet without words, there is nothing to convey. Koans resolve this dilemma by serving as skillful tools for Chan inquiry and contemplation.
Chan Master Dahui Zonggao of the Linji school introduced a method of Chan practice that did not rely on silent illumination or exhaustive study of koans. Instead, he advocated for investigating a single, pivotal phrase from a koan with unwavering focus. By continuously contemplating this phrase without distraction, practitioners gradually reduce delusive thoughts until only the phrase itself remains. When even this last trace of conceptual grasping dissolves, realization naturally arises.
Common critical phrases include:
“What did you originally look like before your parents were born?”
“Does a dog have Buddha-nature?”
“Who is reciting the Buddha’s name?”
“All phenomena return to one—where does the one return?”
“The cypress tree in the courtyard.”
“None.”
Investigating a critical phrase is neither an intellectual exercise nor a matter of logical reasoning. Rather, it is meant to give rise to deep doubt. As the saying goes, “great doubt leads to great awakening; no doubt, no awakening.” As your investigation deepens and conceptual thinking ceases, only the critical phrase remains. When the doubt itself is fully extinguished, that is the moment of awakening.
Chan Buddhist Classics
Following the publication of The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch in the Tang dynasty, Chan Buddhism saw the widespread development of recorded sayings—collections of Chan masters’ teachings, dialogues, and actions, typically compiled by their disciples during meditation retreats.
In addition to individual collections, larger comprehensive anthologies emerged, including:
- Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp
- Continued Transmission of the Lamp
- Compendium of the Five Lamps
- Blue Cliff Record
- Book of Serenity
- The Gateless Gate
- Recorded Sayings of the Ancient Worthies
- Treasury of the True Dharma Eye
- Record of Pointing to the Moon
- Essential Compendium of the Chan School
- Eihei’s Eulogies on Ancient Cases
If Patriarch Chan is “not reliant on written words, but passed directly from mind to mind,” then why study these texts? “Not reliant on written words” means not clinging to or being bound by scriptures—but it does not imply a wholesale rejection of words or teachings. Words provide direction, but are not the ultimate truth. Beginners must initially use words to learn the Dharma, but once insight is attained, one should “embody the meaning and forget the words”—just as one abandons the raft upon reaching the other shore.
In fact, from the time of the First Patriarch Bodhidharma to the Fourth Patriarch Daoxin, Chan teachings were also based on scriptures, notably the Laṅkāvatāra Sutra. As recorded in the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp (Vol. 3), Bodhidharma declared: “I have these four volumes of the Laṅkāvatāra Sutra, which I entrust to you. They are the essential gateway to the Tathāgata’s mind-ground, enabling all beings to awaken.” Likewise, the Sixth Patriarch Huineng attained awakening upon hearing the Diamond Sutra and, in response, fervently urged Chan practitioners to study it.
Chan Buddhism does not reject texts; rather, it advises practitioners not to be confined by them. One must transcend the limits of conceptual thinking and the constraints of language in order to realize the boundless inner reality.
These classics embody the crystallized wisdom of generations of Chan masters—a “finger pointing to the moon” (see Note 2) guiding seekers of enlightenment. In sheer number, these works run into the tens of thousands, each resplendent with literary brilliance and profound philosophical insight. They form an irreplaceable cultural treasure of Chinese philosophy, literature, and history.
While Indian Buddhism practiced meditation, it did not develop dhyāna as a distinct tradition. Chan uniquely arose from Chinese Buddhism, which is why Master Taixu famously proclaimed, “The essence of Chinese Buddhism lies in Chan.” Master Taixu was referring specifically to the lineage of Patriarch Chan. Indeed, Chan has had a profound and lasting impact on Chinese Buddhism, and remains its most fascinating tradition.
Note 1: Please refer to my article on Tathāgata Chan, which provides a brief overview of its meaning and its stages of practice.
Note 2: The expression “the finger that points to the moon” is known as the “moon-pointing finger”. In Buddhism, “Suchness” is metaphorically compared to the moon; therefore, for those who have not yet grasped the true nature of Suchness, various teachings are employed to convey its reality.
