Master Linji’s sudden strikes and shouts served as a wake-up call, jolting students clear of their mental chatter. Instead of handing out tidy explanations, those unexpected methods acted like a one-two punch to smash through conceptual walls. Much like Zen koans—paradoxes designed to short-circuit ordinary logic—the shout or smack snaps the mind into direct experience, uprooting any clinging to ideas about enlightenment.

In today’s world of endless TikTok scrolls and meditation apps offering soothing soundscapes, Linji’s approach feels like analog shock therapy. No guided playlists, no step-by-step scripts—just raw immediacy. It’s reminiscent of modern “cold plunge” trends or surprise exercises in leadership retreats that force people out of autopilot: uncomfortable at first, but undeniably effective at clearing the fog.

Those abrupt tactics also mirror life’s inherent unpredictability. Storms, emergencies, sudden surprises—reality doesn’t wait for polite introductions. By training students to remain centered amid chaos, Linji’s methods dissolved the duality of subject versus object and made awakening an immediate, lived experience instead of an abstract goal.

Ultimately, Linji knew that sometimes the quickest path forward isn’t a leisurely stroll but a firm shake that rattles complacency. That kind of wake-up call still resonates today, proving that a dash of upheaval can be the perfect remedy for minds dozing on the job.