One day, a monk traveled into the mountain where Gensha Shibi resided to see the Zen master and study Zen with him. The monk said to Gensha:
-I am a new comer, please be kind to tell me where I can enter the Zen gate.
Along the riverbank under the trees, I discover footprints!
Even under the fragrant grass I see his prints.
Deep in remote mountains they are found.
These traces no more can be hidden than one's nose, looking heavenward.
Comment: Understanding the teaching, I see the footprints of the bull. Then I learn that, just as many utensils are made from one metal, so too are myriad entities made of the fabric of self. Unless I discriminate, how will I perceive the true from the untrue? Not yet having entered the gate, nevertheless I have discerned the path.