One quiet day, Yunyan was sweeping the temple grounds, his broom a silent dance. Daowu said, “You’re working hard sir!” Yunyan smiled softly, “There is one who does not work hard.” Daowu pressed, “And so there is a second moon?” Yunyan lifted his broom, “What number of moons is this?” he asked. Daowu remained silent. Later on, Xuansha said, “That is precisely the second moon.” Yunmen said, “The man-servant greets the maid-servant politely.” 

This exchange encapsulates some core Zen themes: the relationship between activity and stillness, form and emptiness, duality and unity, and that which goes beyond. First we have Yunyan, where sweeping is more than just labor; it is a metaphor for clearing the mind of illusions—sweeping away concepts, wiping away the dust of attachment. His words hint at effortless awakening—where effort and ease dance as one.

Daowu’s question about the “second moon” probes duality—does awakening stand apart from ordinary life? You may know the two poems Shen-hsiu and Hui-neng wrote in order to receive dharma transmission from the Fifth Ancestor. Shen-hsiu’s poem went “The body is a bodhi tree, the mind is like a standing mirror, always try to keep it clean, don’t let it gather dust”. Hui-neng then composed two of his own; “Bodhi doesn’t have any trees, this mirror doesn’t have a stand, our buddha nature is forever pure, where do you get this dust?”. Then he wrote, “The mind is the bodhi tree, the body is the mirror’s stand, the mirror itself is so clean, dust has no place to land”. Shen-hsiu’s verse likened the body to a bodhi tree, the mind to a shining mirror, to be kept pure. Hui-neng’s reply dismissed trees and stands, asserting Buddha-nature is eternally pure, dustless, beyond form. 

These poems are twin moons—different paths illuminating the same sky. One recognizes form and practice; the other sees through it all. Both lead under the same moonlight, radiant and true.

Yunyan’s act—lifting the broom and asking, “What number of moons is this?”—cuts through distinctions—neither many nor one, real nor unreal. Dogen Zenji echoed this, and said that Yunyan’s actions embody the universe itself, where dualities of light and dark, form and emptiness dissolve. The moon, in this realm, is neither separate nor one—simply *is*.

Yunyan’s reply aligns with Wansong’s insight: “Like the second moon, who will say it is the moon, who will deny it?”—a reminder that conceptual grasping clouds this luminous reality. The reflection in each drop of water shows infinite forms; yet, all are woven into the same fabric of truth. Many appearances, one reality, and yet beyond one, beyond two.

Xuansha’s words resonate further: “That is precisely the second moon”— a recognition that dualities are woven into the fabric of existence. Modern Japanese author, Haruki Murakami’s book ‘1Q84’, speaks of “two moons working together to bathe the world in strange light,” capturing the paradox—unity and multiplicity dancing in harmony, dancing beyond each other. 

Yunmen’s final remark—“The man-servant greets the maid-servant politely”—symbolises the inherent harmony of each encounter. The way of the Way is revealed through genuine interactions, where form and emptiness meet seamlessly, endlessly.

This story invites us to see that every act can be charged expressions of awakening. Sweeping the ground, raising the broom, — the same moon shining in different forms, or perhaps different moons shining the same form. “What number moons is this?”— first moon?, second moon?, beyond all moons?. Reality is a vast, boundless sky. May your own sweeping reveal clearly the endless moons of awakening.