Sitting astride the ox, the noble person happily returns.
The sound of his flute mingles with the crimson sky: he has discovered the garden of joy.
Who else could know about this endlessly pleasurable taste ?
Once you have passed the critical moment and the practice has become somewhat more leisurely, then what is called "the single homogeneous mass" begins to emerge.
Now when you sit, the hwadu is simply there just as it is. Although you sit all day, you are unaware of sitting; although you eat all day, you are unaware of eating; even if you sleep all day and night, you will be unaware of having slept. Such is the state of the single homogeneous mass. When going, the hwadu is going; when eating, the hwadu is eating. The hwadu is no longer constantly appearing and disappearing.
When a person at this state sits, he is like a great unmoving mountain. When sitting, he just sits. He truly has the bearing of a mountain. Thus "sitting astride the ox, the noble person happily returns."
While riding the ox, you play the flute. You are now not at all concerned even if you go into a patch of mist or a field of thorns. The meditation has reached the point where you can practice even in the middle of a busy marketplace.
What does it mean to say that "the sound of his flute mingles with the crimson sky" and that "he has discovered the garden of joy"? When playing the flute while astride the ox, the person can now handle the ox in a leisurely fashion. Left to himself, the ox will just follow the way it has to go. Now that it has been tamed, however much you ignore it, it will no longer go anywhere that is not allowed. As for yourself, no matter whether you are sleeping or moving around, standing or lying down, no one else will be aware of the inner composure you have attained. At this sixth stage the practice really begins to develop with every step.