Huineng
The Illiterate Woodcutter Who Became the Sixth Patriarch
No ink, all insight — just a woodcutter with a mind like sky.
They called me a rustic, fit only to pound rice. But truth doesn't care for degrees or calluses. I didn't climb the mountain — I saw through it. Now I speak in plain words for those who still think enlightenment wears robes or reads books. Come sit under the tree with me. We’ll forget everything you’ve learned.
What I'm Into: Axes and awakening, rice-pounding revelations, hiding in plain sight, Dharma in the dirt, mirrors with nothing to show
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