Awake or asleep
in a grass hut,
what I pray for is
to bring others across
before myself

The grass hut described by Dogen is the formless form, the open seal of sitting. Open, open to all, thoughts and silence, visitors of all kind will come and go: noises, voices, shadows of the past and ghosts of a distant future, this homeless place accepts them all, on Budha s seat they sit, with Buddha s body they unfold: dirty, old, many, rejected, hungry, visible or not, the moon circle embraces all until you cannot separate this from that, until their bodies and the patched robe body unfold as one. 

Being-making a raft will take them all to the other shore, the shore of now that they have actually never left and therefore the shore that cannot be reached. How could the eye see itself, how could the hand grasp itself?