Across its chapters, Shōbōgenzō unfolds Zen not as dry doctrine but as living poetry, using every metaphor and image to crack open everyday perception. When Dōgen likens practice to “flowers in full bloom,” it isn’t mere decoration—it drives the point home that awakening is inseparable from the world right in front of us. That mountain stream rushing over stones becomes a mirror for the mind’s currents, urging attention to each passing thought and sensation.

This poetic turn of phrase sidesteps logical traps. In an era of nonstop smartphone pings and information overload, Dōgen’s “moon reflected in water” still hits home: clarity arises when one stops chasing after reflections and rests in the depth beneath. It’s like being jolted awake by a sudden thunderclap in a quiet forest—language transforming into lived experience.

Metaphor also bridges cultural and temporal gaps. As environmental concerns dominate headlines today, Dōgen’s nature imagery resonates with modern calls for ecological awareness. His “mountain flowers” remind readers that practice and compassion bloom in tandem, each petal a testament to interdependence.

Far from poetic fluff, these lyrical passages engage body and mind together. Neuroscience now confirms what Zen masters intuited centuries ago: embodying a metaphor—breathing like a river, standing like a pine—rewires habitual patterns, dropping one straight into presence. In this way, Shōbōgenzō’s language isn’t an ornament but a direct pointer, a wake-up call bridging past and present, text and life, guiding each reader back to the here and now.