Tackling Dōgen’s Shōbōgenzō can feel like deciphering a centuries-old riddle written in a secret code. Medieval Japanese blends native grammar with Chinese characters, resulting in sentences that flip conventional word order and carry hidden layers of meaning. A few hurdles pop up again and again:

• Archaic vocabulary and kanji variants: Many terms have fallen out of everyday use. Characters once written one way might look entirely different today, and even seasoned scholars find themselves spelunking through old dictionaries.
• Buddhist technicalities: Words like “mu” or “jijuyū zanmai” aren’t just abstract concepts—they’re gateways into lived practice. Translating “mu” as “nothingness” risks flattening its dynamic challenge; rendering “jijuyū zanmai” simply as “self-fulfilling samādhi” often misses its poetic thrust.
• Layered wordplay: Dōgen delighted in multiple readings of a single phrase, interweaving puns that dance between Japanese and Chinese. Capturing that double entendre without resorting to footnotes can feel like juggling flaming torches.
• Cultural allusions: References to Heian-period poetry, Chinese Chan masters, even flora and fauna of medieval Japan, all color Dōgen’s prose. Stripping them down for modern readers might make the text more digestible—but thin its richness.

On top of these, modern translators grapple with audience expectations. Should the focus lean toward academic precision or invite a broader mindfulness community? Advances in digital tools and AI offer fresh ways to compare manuscripts, yet no algorithm can replace the subtle ear attuned to Dōgen’s rhythms. Every choice nudges readers closer to—or further from—the original spark. Approaching the Shōbōgenzō remains less about finding a single “correct” translation and more about keeping that spark alive across time, language, and culture.