“How do you step from the top of a hundred-foot pole?”
I am not a fan, to say the least, of leaping off high places. I learned this when a young boy, after climbing up onto a ledge to jump into a lake, only to stand there frozen for what seemed like an eternity before finally throwing myself into the void of space between the ledge and the lake below. So when I first heard this koan, I took it as a prescription, or even almost a command. I wanted to back away from that ledge.
Sometime later I began to wonder if instead of a prescription, this koan could be taken as a description of life. In what ways could it be said we are always taking that step?
Later in the case, it says:
Take a step from the top of the pole
and the worlds of the ten directions are your total body
Where is this total body?