Extensive life stories – Liu Tiemo (ca. 780-859)

nickname

Liu Tiemo lived in the 8th and 9th centuries in China. Her exact birth and death dates are unknown. Liu (or Lu) was her family name. In Japanese, she is called Ryu Ketsuma. Ryu is pronounced as Liu in Chinese. The second part, Ketsuma, consists of two Japanese words: ketsu, meaning iron, and ma, meaning mill. Together, it means the mill that grinds iron—not wheat or rice, but iron. Liu earned the nickname “Iron Grindstone” because of her sharp mind, as she ground up everyone in dharma combat, the short exchanges between two Zen practitioners who test and challenge each other. She taught Zen in a style described as direct, impressive, and commanding.

Liu was born in north-central China, near Mount Hua. This is the western mountain of the five sacred mountains in China. It is a mountain with several peaks, generally very difficult to reach due to the steep cliffs. Today, this makes the mountain a major tourist attraction. Sometimes the path consists only of a few narrow planks attached to a sheer rock wall, and in some sections, even those are missing. In those areas, there are just a few footholds carved into the rock and a chain to hold onto.

Mount Hua

It is said that Liu was small in stature with a sturdy build. She grew up in a simple, very poor farming family. From a young age, she helped her father work the land, which was owned by a wealthy landlord. There was barely enough food for the family. So when Liu was old enough, she left and began to wander.

A great fellow

Liu lived during the middle of the Tang Dynasty, which lasted from 618 to 906. This period is well-known in Ch’an (the name for the Zen tradition in China) for the many great teachers who lived at that time. The stories of these masters were recorded about three hundred years later during the Song Dynasty (960–1279) by male writers.

It is likely that some details were altered or colored in the process. One frequent theme in stories from the Tang period is the intense expressions of behavior, such as shouts and blows. There seems to be a particular image of how a Zen master acted. Often, these descriptions portray a strong, masculine figure, and the Chinese expression da zhang-fu was used. This term roughly translates to a great hero, a brave, tough, determined, unstoppable man with strong roots and great abilities. This image may have led to only certain Zen practitioners and masters being included in the written records. Liu Tiemo appears to fit this image.

However, it’s possible that there were more female Zen masters whose presentation did not align with the prevailing image of a Zen master and were therefore left out of the chronicles. Additionally, it may have been the case that Zen teachers during the Tang period did not recognize the potential or enlightened presence of their female contemporaries. Regardless, Liu Tiemo is one of the very few female Zen masters we know of from that time.

An Lushan rebellion 

During the Tang Dynasty, there was a brutal war, which is seldom mentioned in Zen circles. This event is known as the An Lushan Rebellion, which took place from 755 to 763. The rebellion was named after General An Lushan, who was of Iranian-Turkic descent and was originally called An Rokhan, which in Chinese became An Lushan. (Rokhan means “light” in Sogdian, an Iranian language, and is the male version of the name Roxane). An Lushan earned favor with Emperor Xuanzong through his great and courageous deeds. He also developed a special bond with the emperor’s most important concubine, Princess Yang Guifei. Yang Guifei is known as one of the four most beautiful women in Chinese history. It was said that she had such a beautiful face that “all flowers would hide in shame in her presence.”

Detail of the promotional poster for a Chinese TV series about (Photo: wikipedia)

An Lushan gained immense power, but at a certain point, he turned against the emperor. He initiated a rebellion, during which many imperial troops defected to his side. Princess Yang is said to have played a role in the uprising’s origins and was forced to commit suicide. The war lasted eight years in total. Due to the chaos of war, the systems for counting the population collapsed, but it is believed that tens of millions of people died, partly due to the incredible famine. Estimates range from 13 to 35 million deaths, a staggering number for a world population that was around 200 million at the time. Only World War II claimed more lives—around 55 million—but the global population was ten times larger than in the 8th century.


“To what extent did the devastation and stories of death and suffering echo through her life?“

Liu Tiemo was born around 23 years after the An Lushan Rebellion. However, her birthplace was in the region affected by the war. To what extent did the devastation and stories of death and suffering echo through her life? What did she encounter during her wanderings after leaving her family home? What did the land and cities look like? What did she hear from the people she met? This war, along with the poverty she experienced in her youth, would have played a part in shaping her. Did it contribute to the character that earned her the nickname “Iron Grindstone”? 

self-sufficiency

For the Buddhist monasteries and their residents, much had changed due to the An Lushan Rebellion. In addition to the devastation and the victims that everyone had to face, the monasteries lost their financial support. Previously, monasteries in the north had been closely connected to the imperial court and were funded by it. Due to the war, this support was lost, and the monks had to become self-sufficient. This meant a completely different daily routine than what the monastics were accustomed to.

The south of the country was spared from the ravages of war, and Liu Tiemo traveled in that direction. She frequently stayed in monasteries, studying and meditating. She worked hard, as she had been accustomed to from a young age. In one of the monasteries, she was ordained. Eventually, she became a student of the Zen master Guishan Lingyou (771–853), who was nine years her senior. Guishan had been a disciple of Baizhang. In the south, the monasteries received much less support from the imperial court. However, even there, the monks did not work but followed the tradition of alms-begging, being supported by the local population. This practice had been passed down from India.

Monks in Laos where the practice of almsgiving is still performed (Photo: personal collection)

But during the time of Baizhang—the dharma grandfather of Liu—there was also a shift in the southern monasteries of China from maintenance to becoming largely self-sufficient. They had to cultivate the land to eat and cook their own food. Baizhang was a great example of this new way of living. His famous saying was, “A day without work is a day without eating.” Guishan, who later became Liu Tiemo’s teacher, served as the cook in Baizhang’s monastery for a long time before leaving for Mount Gui, where he settled. He owes his name, Guishan, to this mountain. “Shan” is the Chinese word for mountain. He had over 1,500 students and transmitted teachings to 43 of them, including Liu.

Life remained unpredictable and harsh. In 840, when Liu Tiemo was 60 years old, Emperor Tang Wuzong came to power. He was a fervent Daoist and persecuted Buddhists, partly because they owned much land and paid little tax. More than 4,000 monasteries and 40,000 temples were destroyed. Over 260,000 monks and nuns were expelled and forced to return to lay life. Did Liu Tiemo experience much of this? Did it affect her life?

don’t fall into the trap

Little is known about Liu’s life after she became a Zen master. We know she lived a few miles from her teacher Guishan. There’s no mention of her having students. Given the nickname she acquired, she seems to have been quite well-known and was a Zen master who inspired awe and respect. In 1150, the monk Shouze compiled a collection of koans titled The Record of the Venerable Ancients (Chinese: Guzunsu Yulu). This collection includes a story highlighting the reputation of Iron Grinder. In this story, she has an encounter with Zen master Zihu. 

The leader of a congregation, named “Iron Grinder Liu,” came to visit Zen master Zihu.
Zihu said, “I’ve heard of ‘Iron Grinder Liu.’ They say you’re not easy to contend with. Is that so?”
Iron Grinder said, “Where did you hear that?”
Zihu said, “It’s conveyed from left and right.”
Iron Grinder said, “Don’t fall down, Master.”
Zihu drove her out of the room with blows.

Koans can seem a bit strange. They are not intended to be read like an ordinary story; they require a different way of seeing. Koans are meant to remind us of what or who we truly are, to recognize how wondrous, precious, astonishing, and all-encompassing it is to be a human being. They are not tests with a single correct answer. Hakuin—a well-known Japanese Zen master from the 18th century—said that even in his old age, a koan provided him with new insights each time.

Hakuin at age 78 (1764), self-portrait (Eisei Bunko Museum, Tokyo)

Zihu asks Liu if she agrees with her reputation. Is she indeed so formidable and sharp-minded? Is she such a strong opponent in dharma dialogue? Liu doesn’t let herself be flattered. She neither confirms nor denies but asks where he got that idea. What is Zihu basing this on? As often happens in a dharma dialogue, different layers resonate through the words. Is the other present? Is the other open and free from concepts? Is there a direct response coming from the here-and-now? To what extent is the absolute and the relative integrated in the person? Zihu replies that it’s said here and there. Is he caught in the dual, conceptual world of here and there, me and you? Is he buying into others’ judgments? Or is he checking whether this female Zen master is losing herself in her nickname, which praises her sharp mind? Liu bounces his comment back by pointing out that he shouldn’t engage with a world that sees labels as reality. Stay with what is here now, what you’re experiencing now, she seems to say. Zihu responds in a very direct way, beyond words and concepts: with blows.

Two old zen masters

Another story about Iron Grinder Liu appears in the well-known koan collections The Book of Equanimity (case 60) and The Blue Cliff Record (case 24).

Iron Grindstone Lu arrived at Isan’s (Guishan).
Isan said, “Old cow, so you’ve come”
The Grindstone said, “Tomorrow there’s a great communal feast on Taizan, are you going to go teacher?”
Isan relaxed his body and lay down.
The Grindstone immediately left.

In this koan, both Liu and her teacher Guishan/Isan are older. Liu doesn’t live far from Guishan, and she likely sees him regularly. Moreover, he has been her teacher for a long time, and they have developed a warm, deep relationship. This is a special koan when we consider the characters in the story. Many stories involve a student and a teacher, but here we see a dialogue between two seasoned Zen masters who know each other inside out, making their conversation one where much is communicated beyond words. The exchange becomes a dance in which they move as one, full of grace and humor.

Guishan greets Liu with the words “old cow.” The original text would have said “female water buffalo.” The water buffalo was a very useful and respected animal in China, providing milk, tilling rice fields, fertilizing the soil, and being an indispensable helper in the fields. In short, it was valuable and very down-to-earth. His greeting is thus a compliment and points to something central in Zen. It’s not about striving to become an exceptional version of yourself or attaining a transcendent state. It’s about being exactly who you are: the unique person who is special yet very ordinary. Without veiling, without embellishment, without trying to enhance anything. That is perfect, including the imperfections that come with it. The water buffalo also appears in “The Ten Oxherding Pictures,” a story depicting the search for one’s true nature. It’s clear the water buffalo was special to Guishan, as he tells his monks in another story that he will return in his next life as a water buffalo.

(Photo: Pickpik)

He addresses Liu as water buffalo and adds, “So you’ve come.” What does he mean by that? Coming and going in Zen stories are tricky matters. In Zen narratives, coming and going refer to the elusive, that which is prior to words. Where does something come from? Where does it go? How can you leave if everything is right here? If you are completely yourself and the veils are gone, if you are a water buffalo, is there still coming and going?

Liu seems to resonate completely with his movement. She mentions that there’s a gathering and a great celebration tomorrow. Is Guishan going? Here, it’s important to note that this place was more than 700 miles away—an insurmountable distance to cover in a single day at that time. What is Liu actually asking? Are there distances when you’re a water buffalo? You’re here, but what does “there” mean? Can we speak of “there,” or is it just “here”?

Guishan responds by calmly lying down and stretching out. Is he doing something with this, or is his response simply a natural presence? Is he expressing that there’s really nothing to be done?

Liu leaves immediately; the conversation is over. No parting words, for how can you leave if you haven’t come? It’s a conversation in which nothing has been said.

Hakuin later remarked on this koan that Liu and Guishan were two great masters who reflected each other like mirrors without leaving a trace. What happens when two mirrors are involved? An astonishing phenomenon occurs. One mirror reflects the other, with the other reflecting the first mirror, and so on. One continuous reflection, a Droste effect with no beginning or end, where time and duration are irrelevant. At the same time, there is no distinction, yet there are clearly two separate mirrors. Hakuin concludes his commentary with: no one knows the point of their meeting.

Liu Tiemo lived to be about 80 years old.

Bronnen