佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄
Chinese title:佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄
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Part 1
CASE ONE
BODHIDHARMA'S VAST EMPTINESS
POINTER: Seeing smoke beyond the mountain, one knows there is fire; seeing a horn beyond the wall, one knows there is an ox. To understand three upon hearing one, to see clearly at a single glance—this is merely the ordinary daily fare of a monk. But as for cutting off all branching streams, appearing in the east and vanishing in the west, moving freely across and along, against and with, at liberty to give or take—at that moment, tell me: whose activity is this? Look into Xuedou's entangling words.
CASE: Emperor Wu of Liang asked the Great Master Bodhidharma, “What is the ultimate truth of the holy teachings?” Bodhidharma said, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” Emperor Wu asked, “Who, then, is facing Us?” Bodhidharma said, “I do not know.” Emperor Wu did not understand, so Bodhidharma crossed the river into the kingdom of Wei. Later, Emperor Wu recounted this exchange to Master Zhigong. Zhigong asked, “Does Your Majesty know who that man was?” Emperor Wu said, “I do not know.” Zhigong said, “He was none other than the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, who came to transmit the Buddha's mind-seal.” Emperor Wu was filled with regret and sent an envoy after Bodhidharma to invite him back.
Zhigong said, “Do not say merely that Your Majesty has sent an envoy after him; even if the entire country went after him, he would not return.”
COMMENTARY: From afar, Bodhidharma perceived that this land, China, possessed the spiritual capacity for the Mahayana. He therefore crossed the sea on his long journey, firmly resolved to transmit the mind-seal, awaken those lost in delusion, establish no reliance upon written words, and point directly to the mind so that people might see their own nature and realize Buddhahood.[1] If anyone can see in this way, that person will naturally attain liberation, no longer be bound by any of the entanglements of language,
and will immediately transcend everything and directly realize Buddha-nature.[2] Only then can one speak with Emperor Wu and clearly see the place where the Second Patriarch's mind was pacified.[3] When the discriminating calculations of sense-consciousness are no more and all such things have been cut off, one remains serene, free, and at ease.
What need is there to distinguish right from wrong or calculate gain and loss? Although this is so, how many can actually be like this?
Emperor Wu often wore the kasaya and personally lectured on the Prajnaparamita Sutra of the Emission of Light.[4] His exposition was so vivid that celestial flowers showered down and turned into lapis lazuli upon touching the earth. Emperor Wu also studied the Way and venerated the Buddha, ordering temples to be built and monks ordained throughout the realm, and practicing according to the teachings. People throughout the land called him the Emperor of the Buddha-Mind.
When Bodhidharma first came before Emperor Wu, the emperor asked, “We have built temples and ordained monks. Is there merit in this?” Bodhidharma said, “There is no merit whatsoever.” This was no different from pouring filthy water over someone's head. If anyone understands this statement, “There is no merit whatsoever,” that person is capable of facing Bodhidharma. Tell me: how can building temples and ordaining monks have no merit whatsoever? Where does the meaning of these words lie?
Emperor Wu often discussed the two truths, ultimate and conventional, with Dharma Master Lou Yue, Mahasattva Fu, and Crown Prince Zhaoming. According to the teachings, the ultimate truth elucidates that things are not existent, while the conventional truth elucidates that they are not nonexistent. The ultimate and the conventional are not two; this itself is the absolute truth of the holy teachings.
Taking this most subtle and mysterious point, he asked Bodhidharma, “What is the ultimate truth of the holy teachings?” Bodhidharma said, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” Not one monk beneath heaven can leap free of this. With a single stroke of the sword, Bodhidharma cut through all of Emperor Wu's attachments. Yet how badly people misunderstand this today!
They put on strange airs, glare fiercely, and say, “Vast emptiness, nothing whatsoever—it has nothing to do with Bodhidharma's teaching.”
The Fifth Patriarch often said, “If only a person can thoroughly understand the principle of ‘vast emptiness, nothing holy,’ that person can return home and sit in peace.” Though people everywhere busy themselves creating complications, this does not hinder Bodhidharma from smashing open the black lacquer bucket[5] for them. Bodhidharma was truly the most extraordinary person in this matter. Thus it is said, “If one can penetrate a single phrase, one can penetrate ten thousand phrases all at once.” At that time, one can naturally see through everything clearly and gain complete mastery. An ancient said, “Even bones crushed and body shattered would not suffice to repay it; understanding a single phrase surpasses ten billion.”
Facing Emperor Wu directly, how arduous it was for Bodhidharma! Emperor Wu did not awaken, but continued to rely upon conceptual views and distinctions of self and other, asking yet another question: “Who is facing Us?” Bodhidharma, in his utmost compassion, again told Emperor Wu, “I do not know.” This left Emperor Wu bewildered, unable to understand what Bodhidharma meant. At this point, to cling either to existence or nonexistence misses the mark.
The monk Duan composed this verse:
One ordinary arrow brings down one eagle;
To shoot another arrow would be wasted effort.
He returned to Shaoshi and sat there in stillness;
Emperor Wu should not hope to invite him back.
He further said, “Who would wish to invite Bodhidharma back?”
Emperor Wu did not understand. Bodhidharma left the kingdom of Liang, and this old fellow could only remain bewildered. Bodhidharma then crossed the river into the kingdom of Wei. A later legend says that Bodhidharma crossed the river standing upon a single reed. This is not entirely clear; perhaps it was merely a eulogistic tale.[6] At that time, Emperor Ming of Wei was reigning. Emperor Ming originally belonged to a northern people called the Tuoba, or Toba, who only later identified themselves as Chinese. After arriving there, Bodhidharma went to see no one else but proceeded directly to Mount Shaolin, where he sat in meditation facing a wall for nine years. Only afterward did he meet the Second Patriarch. People in that region called Bodhidharma “the Wall-Gazing Brahmin.”
Emperor Wu later questioned Zhigong. Zhigong said, “Does Your Majesty know who that man was?” Emperor Wu replied, “I do not know.” Tell me: is this “I do not know” the same as or different from Bodhidharma's “I do not know”? They are similar, but they are not one and the same.
People often misunderstand and say, “Earlier, when Bodhidharma said, ‘I do not know,’ he was giving a Zen response; later, when Emperor Wu answered Zhigong, his reply was only on the level of conventional knowledge.” Fortunately, this has nothing whatsoever to do with Bodhidharma's intent. When Zhigong asked in this manner, tell me: how should Emperor Wu have replied? Why did he not strike Zhigong dead with a single blow and thus avoid revealing his confusion?
Instead, Emperor Wu earnestly and honestly replied, “I do not know.” Seeing his opportunity, Zhigong seized upon it and said, “He was none other than the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, who came to transmit the Buddha's mind-seal.” Emperor Wu then regretted what had happened and sent an envoy after Bodhidharma to invite him back. How naive! If, when Zhigong said, “He was none other than the bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, who came to transmit the Buddha's mind-seal,” Emperor Wu had driven him out of the country, there might still have been something admirable in it.
According to tradition, Zhigong died in the thirteenth year of the Tianjian era (514 C.E.), whereas Bodhidharma did not arrive in Liang until the first year of the Datong era (520 C.E.). Thus they were separated by as many as seven years; how, then, could it be said that the two met? This must surely be an erroneous tradition. Yet there is no need to dispute here what has been recorded in the tradition. What matters is simply to understand the essential meaning of the matter. Tell me: Bodhidharma was Avalokiteshvara, and Zhigong was also Avalokiteshvara; who, then, was truly Avalokiteshvara? If both were Avalokiteshvara, why were there still two? And why only two, rather than whole companies and multitudes?
Later, in Wei, Bodhidharma debated with Vinaya Master Guangtong and Tripitaka Master Bodhiruci. Bodhidharma swept aside outward forms and pointed directly to the mind, but the other two clung to their preconceived views and therefore could not accept his teaching. In the end, they even gave rise to jealousy and attempted several times to poison Bodhidharma.
On the sixth occasion, because the conditions for his transforming work had been fulfilled and he had also found someone to whom he could transmit the Dharma, he calmly accepted it,[7] then sat upright and passed away. Bodhidharma was buried at Dinglin Monastery on Mount Xiong’er. Later, Song Yun of Wei, while traveling on an official mission, encountered Bodhidharma on the Congling Range, carrying one sandal in his hand and returning to India.
Emperor Wu grieved and personally composed an inscription saying, “Alas! Seeing, yet not seeing; meeting, yet not meeting. For a thousand ages before and a thousand ages after—what sorrow, what regret!” He further praised him, saying, “When the mind is empty, wondrous awakening is realized in a single instant; when the mind has something in it, one still falls into samsara for tens of thousands of kalpas.”
Tell me: where is Bodhidharma now? He has passed by, yet you do not even know it.
VERSE:
The truth is empty;
How can it be discerned?
Who is it before me?
He further said, “I do not know.”
Thus he secretly crossed the river;
Did this not cause thorns to spring up?
Though the whole country pursued him, he would not return;
For a thousand ages before and a thousand ages after, they yearn in vain.
Do not yearn!
When will the wind that sweeps over the earth ever cease?
The Master looked to either side and said:
“Is the Patriarch still here?”
He answered himself, “He is.”
“Then let him come here and wash this old monk’s feet.”
COMMENTARY: Xuedou’s verse on this koan is like one who is skilled at wielding the Tai’e Sword, turning it freely through empty space and naturally never touching its keen edge. Without such ability, the moment one picked up the sword, one would surely be wounded by its point. For those with eyes capable of seeing, a single thrust, a single penetration, a single praise, or a single censure—using only four lines—can adjudicate an entire koan. Generally, verses on the ancients discuss Chan indirectly, bringing forth the essential meaning of an ancient matter, then following the circumstances to conclude the koan. That is all.
Xuedou confronts the koan directly and immediately versifies: “The truth is empty; how can it be discerned?” By adding the second line beneath the first, Xuedou is truly extraordinary. Tell me: ultimately, how is it to be discerned? Even one with iron eyes and bronze pupils would not know where to begin groping. Having reached this point, could it possibly be weighed and considered through conscious awareness? Therefore Yunmen said, “Like striking flint, like a flash of lightning.” This matter does not lie within thought or conception. By the time you open your mouth, what use could it still have? The instant calculation and comparison arise, the falcon has already flown past Silla (Korea).
Xuedou says, “You monks throughout the world, how do you discern this matter? ‘Who is it before me?’ He further said, ‘I do not know.’” This is precisely where Xuedou’s compassion lies: he strives unceasingly to help everyone under heaven. Tell me: are “empty” and “I do not know” one or two? Anyone capable of understanding will surely divide them into two. People everywhere commonly say, “At most, Xuedou merely raised the matter once again.” Little do they know that the four lines of the verse have already expressed the entire meaning of the koan.
Afterward, out of compassion, Xuedou versified the circumstances of the encounter: “Thus he secretly crossed the river; did this not cause thorns to spring up?” Bodhidharma originally came to this land to free everyone under heaven from attachments and bonds, to pull out nails and wrench free pegs, and to cut away thorns. Why, then, does Xuedou say that Bodhidharma caused thorns to spring up? This was not only so at that time; even today, the thorns beneath everyone’s feet have grown several fathoms deep. “Though the whole country pursued him, he would not return; for a thousand ages before and a thousand ages after, they yearn in vain”—they were indeed no true men of resolve. Tell me: where is Bodhidharma? If you can see Bodhidharma, you will see how Xuedou acts for the sake of others.
Xuedou again feared that everyone under heaven would keep pursuing ordinary knowledge, so he threw open the lock and bolt, revealing his own insight, and said, “Do not yearn! When will the wind that sweeps over the earth ever cease?” If there is no yearning, how could matters arise beneath your feet? Xuedou says that right here and now, the pure wind sweeps over the earth; throughout heaven and earth, where could there be any limit? Xuedou casts all the affairs of a thousand ages and ten thousand ages directly before you. This is not true of Xuedou alone: right now, where could there be any limit? Even within each of you, where could there be any limit?
Still fearing that everyone under heaven might become attached to this point, Xuedou once again employed an expedient and called out loudly, “Is the Patriarch still here?” He then answered himself, “He is.” Here Xuedou no longer hesitates to reveal his heart completely to everyone under heaven. He further says to himself, “Then let him come here and wash this old monk’s feet.” This indeed excessively diminishes another’s radiance, yet at that moment Xuedou had also offered up both his hands and feet.
Tell me: where does Xuedou’s meaning lie? Having reached this point, you may call it a donkey, you may call it a horse, or you may call it the Patriarch. But how could it be named or described?
The ordinary opinion that Xuedou merely took advantage of the Patriarch fortunately has nothing whatsoever to do with this matter. But tell me: ultimately, what is this affair? “It may only be known to the old foreigner; it cannot be understood by the old foreigner.”
CASE TWO
ZHAOZHOU’S “THE SUPREME WAY IS NOT DIFFICULT”
POINTER: Heaven and earth are narrow; the moon, stars, and constellations all grow dark at once. Even if blows of the staff descend like rain and shouts resound like thunder, you still cannot shoulder the matter that transcends the Chan school. Even the Buddhas of the three times could only know it for themselves; the patriarchs of successive generations could not speak of the matter exhaustively.
The entire treasury of teachings cannot explain it completely, and learned monks cannot save themselves. Having reached such a point, how could one still ask for instruction? To utter the word “Buddha” is no different from wading through muddy water; to utter the word “Chan” makes the whole face flush with embarrassment.
Superior persons who have cultivated for a long time need not wait for anyone to speak, but later students of crude capacities still need to investigate and comprehend it thoroughly.[8]
CASE: Zhaozhou instructed the assembly, saying, “The Great Way is not difficult, so long as you avoid discrimination. As soon as words arise, there is immediately choosing and discrimination. This is perfectly clear. This old monk does not abide in clarity. Do you still preserve anything?”
At that time, a monk asked, “If you do not abide in clarity, what do you preserve?”
Zhaozhou said, “I do not know either.”
The monk said, “Since the Venerable does not know, why do you still say that you do not abide in clarity?”
Zhaozhou said, “It is enough that you have asked about the matter. Quickly bow and withdraw.”
COMMENTARY: Zhaozhou often cited the words, “The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination.” These originally come from the Third Patriarch’s Inscription on Faith in Mind:[9] “The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination. Do not love or hate, and it will naturally become clear.” As soon as a thought of right and wrong arises, there is discrimination and choosing; this is perfectly clear.
As soon as such an understanding arises, the matter has already slipped away. Once entangled and attached, what can one possibly do? Zhaozhou said, “This is discrimination and choosing; this is perfectly clear.” Nowadays, those who investigate Chan and study the Way either become entangled in discrimination and choosing or sit within clarity.
Zhaozhou said, “This old monk does not abide in clarity. Do you still preserve and maintain it?” Since he did not abide in clarity, tell me: where was Zhaozhou? Why did he still teach everyone to preserve and maintain it?
The Fifth Patriarch often said, “I extend my hand like this to lead you; how do you understand it? Tell me, where is the place at which the hand is extended? Recognize the meaning at the tip of the hook; do not cling to the balancing point of the scale beam.”
That monk stepped forward, and he was truly extraordinary. Why? He seized upon an opening in Zhaozhou and pressed him with the question: “Since the Venerable does not abide in clarity, what is there left to preserve and maintain?” Zhaozhou, too, was skillful.
He never resorted to the staff or the shout, but merely said, “I do not know either.” Had it not been this old monk, anyone pressed in this way by that monk would surely have been flustered. Fortunately, old Zhaozhou could freely turn himself around, and so he answered the monk as above. Chan students nowadays, when questioned, also often reply, “I do not know either; I do not understand.” Yet, though they share the same road, they do not follow the same course.
That monk possessed something quite exceptional: he knew enough to ask further, “Since the Venerable does not know, why do you still say that you do not abide in clarity?” What a fine exchange!
Were it anyone else, there would have been no way to extricate himself. But Zhaozhou was an adept; he merely said to the monk, “It is enough that you have asked about the matter. Bow and withdraw.” The monk still did not know how to deal with this old fellow and could only remain silent in frustration.
This is truly a great master of immense courage. He never discusses abstruse principles or pivotal circumstances with us, but receives people solely through the most fundamental matters. Thus it is said, “When we slander one another, I seize you by the horns; when we spit at one another, I seize you and splash you with water.” Who would have thought that throughout this old fellow’s lifelong pilgrimage, he never once employed the staff or the shout, but used only ordinary words—and yet no one in the world could do anything with him.
It was only because throughout his life he never consented to discriminate and choose; therefore, he attained great freedom and could range unhindered in every direction. People nowadays do not understand. They merely say that Zhaozhou did not answer the question or explain it to others.
Little do they realize that the matter passes right before their eyes without their knowing it.
VERSE:
The Great Way is not difficult;
The source of words and speech.
Within one are many kinds;
Within two there is no duality.
At the horizon, sun and moon rise and set;
Beyond the window, the mountains are deep and the waters cold.
With meaning exhausted within the skull, how could joy remain?
In the withered tree, the flute’s melody has not yet ceased.
Difficult indeed! Difficult indeed!
Discrimination and clarity—you must see for yourself.
COMMENTARY: Xuedou understood Zhaozhou’s meaning, and so he versified, “The Way is truly not difficult.” He then continued, “The source of words and speech.” This is to know only one without understanding three. Xuedou said, “Within one are many kinds; within two there is no duality.” This is precisely to take the three and thereby understand the one again. Tell me, what is the source of words and speech?
Why are there many kinds within one, yet no duality within two? If one lacks eyes with which to see, where can one possibly grope for it? If you understand these two lines, then it is just as the ancients called “becoming a seamless unity”:[10] once again, as before, mountains are mountains and rivers are rivers; long is long and short is short; heaven is heaven and earth is earth.
Yet sometimes heaven is called earth, sometimes earth is called heaven; sometimes it is said that mountains are not mountains and rivers are not rivers. Ultimately, how can one find peace? When the wind comes, the trees sway; when the waves rise, the boats are lifted.
Spring gives birth, summer nurtures, autumn gathers, and winter brings decline. All things unfold naturally according to their ordinary sequence. These four lines of verse suddenly cut everything off.
Xuedou possessed talent in abundance, and so he opened his bag and gave us a conclusion. Yet it is merely like placing another head atop one’s head, saying, “The Buddha Way is not difficult; the source of words and speech. Within one are many kinds; within two there is no duality.” Although there are not many separate things, at the horizon, when the sun rises, the moon sets; beyond the window, where the mountains are deep, the waters are cold.
On reaching this point, words and speech also reach their utmost limit: everything is the Way, and all things are real. Is this not the moment when both mind and objects are forgotten and merge into a seamless unity? The opening of Xuedou’s verse is somewhat solitary and towering; its ending, too, is in no small measure clumsy.
If you investigate it clearly and see it through, it is like the flavor of ghee. But if you have not yet cast off sensory perception, you will see only vagueness and confusion and will be utterly unable to understand this manner of speaking.
“With meaning exhausted within the skull, how could joy remain? In the withered tree, the flute’s melody has not yet ceased.” Here lies the correspondence. From the ancients’ koans asking about the Way, Xuedou extracted these lines, strung them together, and used them to versify, “The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination.” People today do not understand the meaning of the ancients; they merely bite at words and chew on phrases. When will this ever end? Only a truly accomplished person can understand this manner of speaking.
Have you not heard that a monk once asked Xiangyan, “What is the Way?” Xiangyan replied, “The flute’s melody in the grove of withered trees.” The monk asked, “What is the person within the Way?” Xiangyan replied, “The eyes within a skull.” Later, the monk asked Shishuang, “What is the flute’s melody in the grove of withered trees?” Shishuang said, “There is still joy.” The monk said, “What are the eyes within a skull?” Shishuang said, “They are still entangled in consciousness.” The monk related this to Caoshan.
Caoshan said, “The lifeblood has not yet been severed.” The monk asked, “What are the eyes within a skull?” Caoshan said, “It has not completely dried up.” The monk asked, “Who is it that hears?” Caoshan said, “Throughout heaven and earth, there is no one who does not hear.” The monk asked, “I do not understand where that phrase ‘the flute’s melody’ is quoted from.” Caoshan said, “I do not know where it is quoted from, but all who hear it die.” He then versified:
“The flute’s melody in the withered tree truly reveals the Way;
Only when the skull has no consciousness do its eyes become bright.
When joy and consciousness are extinguished, all affairs cease;
How then could clear and turbid be distinguished?”
Xuedou may be said to possess great skill, for in a single moment he was able to encapsulate the verse for you. Even so, he never became entangled in duality.
At the end of the verse, Xuedou, intending to aid others, finally said, “How difficult, how difficult!” It is precisely this “how difficult, how difficult, how difficult” that you must investigate thoroughly before you can understand. Why is this so? Have you not heard Baizhang say, “All words, the mountains, rivers, and the great earth—each returns to itself”?
Whatever Xuedou puts forth or takes away ultimately returns to itself. Tell me, where is the place in which Xuedou acts for the sake of the people under heaven? Deliberate upon it clearly and see for yourself.
Having already devised all this entanglement, why does he still say, “See for yourself”? Tell me, where does our master’s meaning lie? Do not say merely that others cannot understand it; even if this mountain monk reached that place, I too would be unable to understand it.
CASE THREE
MASTER MA IS UNWELL
POINTER: With one device and one circumstance, one word and one phrase, one must seek a way to enter. A wound in the flesh can become a cave or grotto. When the great function manifests before you, there are no longer any rules. You must seek out the place of transcendence. It encompasses heaven and earth, yet one does not know where to lay a hand upon it. To say that this is acceptable and that not-this is also acceptable is far too cumbersome. To say that this is unacceptable and that not-this is also unacceptable is far too solitary. Without following either of these two paths, what would be correct? Please try to present it.
CASE: Great Master Ma[11] was unwell. The temple superintendent asked, “How has Your Reverence’s health been recently?” The Great Master said, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha.”[12]
COMMENTARY: Great Master Ma was unwell. The temple superintendent asked, “How has your health been recently, Master?” The Great Master said, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha.” If the ancestral masters had not confronted the people under heaven with the most fundamental matters, how could we possess such radiance of the Way? If one understands the essential point of this case, one can wander alone beyond the highest heavens. If one does not understand its essential point, it is like losing one’s way before a grove of withered trees on a cliff. If one is truly capable, upon reaching this point one must be able to lead away the plowman’s ox and snatch food from a hungry man; only then can one see where Great Master Ma acted for the sake of others.
Nowadays many people say that Great Master Ma was receiving the temple superintendent. Fortunately, such words have nothing whatsoever to do with this matter. Nowadays there are also many among the Sangha who misunderstand it; they glare and say, “Here the left eye is the sun-face, and the right eye is the moon-face.” What does such talk have to do with it? Even in the year of the donkey, they would not see it in a dream. They merely allow the ancient’s meaning to slip past without catching it.
As for Great Master Ma speaking in this way, where does the meaning lie? Some say that Great Master Ma meant, “Mix some medicine for my stomachache and bring me a bowl.” What does that have to do with it? Having already arrived at this point, how can one attain peace? Thus it is said, “The single road of transcendence is not transmitted by a thousand sages; students toil over outward forms, like monkeys grasping at reflections.”
This very “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha” is exceedingly difficult; even Xuedou found it difficult to versify. Yet because he had seen it clearly, he exerted all the strength of his life to comment upon it. Do you wish to see Xuedou? Please read the passage below.
VERSE:
Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha—
What are the Five Emperors and the Three Sovereigns?
For twenty years, how much bitter hardship;
For the sake of a few people, how many times entering the dragon’s cave!
This toil is worth recounting;
Clear-eyed patch-robed monks, do not take it lightly.
COMMENTARY: When Emperor Shenzong of Song was still on the throne (1086–1085), he thought that this verse satirized the state, and so did not permit it to be included in the Great Canon. Xuedou first presents, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha—what are the Five Emperors and the Three Sovereigns?” Tell me, where does his meaning lie? I have only just explained it to you.
Xuedou directly comments upon Mazu. Thus it is said, “Casting a hook into the four seas, he fishes only for a fierce dragon.” This single line alone would already conclude the verse. Afterward, Xuedou once again awkwardly revealed the lifelong effort of his investigation of Chan: “For twenty years, how much bitter hardship; for the sake of others, how many times entering the dragon’s cave!” What is Xuedou like?
He is like a person entering a dragon’s cave in search of a jewel. Only afterward is ignorance shattered. Although this matter may be called extraordinarily wondrous, originally it is merely like: “What are the Five Emperors and the Three Sovereigns?” Tell me, where does the essential point of Xuedou’s words lie?
You must personally step back and look; only then will you see where it lies.
Most people do not understand Xuedou’s meaning and merely say that he was satirizing the state. To understand it this way is only an emotional interpretation. This is quoted from Chanyue’s poem “The Young Nobleman’s Conduct”: “In embroidered brocade robes, a falcon upon his hand; strolling leisurely, his face filled with disdain.
What could he know of the hardships of plowing and reaping? What are the Five Emperors and the Three Sovereigns?” Xuedou says, “This toil is worth recounting; clear-eyed patch-robed monks, do not take it lightly.” How many people make their living within the dragon’s cave? Even if you are a clear-eyed monk with an eye upon your forehead and a talisman beneath your arm, illuminating all four quarters of the world, upon reaching this point you still must not be contemptuous, but must exercise the utmost care.
CASE FOUR
DESHAN CARRIES HIS TRAVELING BUNDLE
POINTER: Beneath the blue sky and in broad daylight, there is no need to point east and indicate west. Yet, according to the time and circumstances, it is still necessary to prescribe medicine according to the illness. Tell me, which is better: letting go or holding fast? Try to present it.
CASE: Deshan arrived at Guishan’s place, carrying his traveling bundle into the Dharma hall. He walked from west to east and then from east to west, looked around, and said, “Nothing, nothing,” then went out.
Xuedou commented, “Exposed.”
But when Deshan reached the gate, he said, “Still, I should not be so hasty.” He then assumed full dignified comportment and reentered to meet Guishan. As Guishan sat there, Deshan raised his sitting mat and said, “Your Reverence!” Guishan was about to reach for his whisk when Deshan gave a shout, shook out his sleeves, and departed.
Xuedou commented, “Exposed.”
Deshan turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and left. That evening Guishan asked the head monk, “Where is the newcomer who arrived earlier?” The head monk said, “At that time, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and left.” Guishan said, “That man will later ascend a solitary peak, build himself a grass hut, and go on reviling the Buddhas and denouncing the patriarchs.”
Xuedou commented, “Adding frost atop snow.”
COMMENTARY: After presenting Deshan’s words, he merely adds the three words, “Exposed.” Do you understand? At times, one regards a blade of grass as the Buddha’s sixteen-foot golden body; at other times, one regards the Buddha’s sixteen-foot golden body as a blade of grass.
Deshan was originally a lecturer who expounded the Diamond Sutra[13] in Sichuan. According to the teaching in the sutra, in the wisdom attained after realizing the Diamond-Like Samadhi (Vajropamasamādhi), the practitioner studies the Buddha’s dignified conduct for one thousand kalpas and cultivates the Buddha’s practices for one thousand kalpas; only afterward does one become a Buddha. Yet the demons of the south said, “Mind itself is Buddha.” Deshan became indignant, shouldered his commentaries, and journeyed south to vanquish those demons. Seeing how indignant he was is enough to understand what a fierce and formidable fellow he was.
When he first arrived in Fengzhou, Deshan encountered an old woman selling fried cakes by the roadside. He set down his commentaries and notes, intending to buy a few things for a light meal. The old woman asked, “What are you carrying?” Deshan said, “Commentaries and Notes on the Diamond Sutra.” The old woman said, “I have a question.
If you can answer it, I will give you these cakes free for your refreshment; but if you cannot answer, go elsewhere to buy them.” Deshan said, “Go ahead and ask.” The old woman said, “The Diamond Sutra says: the mind of the past cannot be apprehended, the mind of the present cannot be apprehended, and the mind of the future cannot be apprehended. May I ask, Venerable, with which mind do you intend to take your refreshment?” Deshan was unable to say a word.
The old woman then directed him to go and consult Longtan.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, Deshan said, “For a long time I have heard of Longtan, ‘Dragon Pool,’ but now that I have come here, I see neither a pool nor any dragon appearing.” The monk Longtan stepped out from behind a screen and said, “You have indeed arrived at Longtan.” Deshan bowed and withdrew. That night he entered Longtan’s room and stood in attendance until late. Longtan said, “Why have you not yet withdrawn?” Deshan took his leave, lifted the curtain, and stepped outside.
Seeing that it was dark, he turned back and said, “It is very dark outside.” Longtan lit a paper lantern and handed it to Deshan. Just as Deshan took it, Longtan blew out the light. Deshan suddenly attained great awakening and immediately bowed.
Longtan said, “What have you seen that makes you bow?” Deshan said, “From this day forward, this humble one will never again dare doubt what the venerable monks throughout the world say.”
The next day, Longtan ascended the Dharma hall and said, “Among you is a fellow whose teeth are like a forest of swords and whose mouth is like a bowl of blood. Even if struck with a staff, he will not turn his head. One day he will ascend a lofty peak and establish my Way there.” Deshan then brought his commentaries and notes before the Dharma hall, raised a torch, and said, “To investigate abstruse arguments is really no different from placing a single hair in empty space; to exhaustively examine the essential turning points is merely like letting one drop of water fall into a vast valley.” Then he burned them all.
Later, hearing that Guishan’s teaching was flourishing, he went there to meet Guishan in the manner of one who understood Zen. Without even troubling to remove his traveling bundle, Deshan walked straight into the Dharma hall, strode from west to east and then from east to west, looked all around, and said, “Nothing, nothing.” Then he went out. Tell me, what was his meaning?
Was he mad? Many people mistakenly say that this was Deshan’s way of establishing his position, but that is not at all correct. This Master Deshan was truly extraordinary.
Thus it is said, “One who rises above the multitude must be a valiant man; vanquishing the enemy is the work of a lion cub. If one selects Buddhas without this eye, what use would even a thousand years be?” At this point, only someone thoroughly adept can perceive it. Why?
The Buddha-Dharma contains nothing complicated; how could it be measured by defiled conceptual feelings? This was precisely Deshan’s vital activity—why expend so much labor over it? Therefore Xuansha said, “Even if it resembles the moon’s reflection in an autumn lake or the sound of a bell in the stillness of night—stir the waves and the reflection does not disperse; strike it at any time and it sounds—it is still an affair on this shore of birth and death.
Upon reaching this point, there is neither gain nor loss, neither right nor wrong, nor anything extraordinary or marvelous.” If so, how are we to understand the affair of Deshan walking from west to east and then from east to west? Tell me, what was his meaning?
Old Guishan paid no attention whatsoever to Deshan. Had he not been a man like Guishan, he would surely have been broken by Deshan. See how adept Guishan was: he simply sat there calmly, watching success or failure. Had Guishan not seen through the direction from which that wind was blowing, how could he have dealt with the matter in this way? Xuedou commented with one phrase: “Seen through.” This is like an iron bar. The monks call this a “turning word”: though it lies on both sides, it abides on neither. How should one understand his words, “Seen through”? Where did the seeing-through occur? Tell me, did he see through Deshan, or did he see through Guishan?
Deshan then went outside. Upon reaching the monastery gate, he said to himself, “I should not be so hasty.” Deshan wanted to bare his heart and innermost organs and engage Guishan in a “Dharma battle”; therefore, having fully composed his dignified bearing, he went in once more to see Guishan. As Guishan sat there, Deshan raised his sitting cloth and said, “Venerable!” Guishan was about to reach for his whisk when Deshan shouted, shook out his sleeves, and departed. Utterly extraordinary!
Many among the Sangha say that Guishan was afraid of Deshan. What relevance could such a statement have? Guishan was never in any haste.
Therefore an ancient said, “One wiser than birds catches birds; one wiser than beasts catches beasts; one wiser than people catches people.” Whoever has penetrated this matter of Zen would not be concerned even if all the trees and grasses, dense forests, people and creatures, flowers and fruits, and the myriad phenomena throughout heaven and earth were to shout at once. Even if someone overturned the meditation platform and shouted the entire assembly into dispersal, he would not be concerned.
Lofty as heaven, vast as earth. Had Guishan not possessed the ability to silence the tongues of everyone in the world, testing Deshan at that moment would surely have been extremely difficult. Had Guishan not been the spiritual teacher of fifteen hundred people, he certainly would not have been able to discern the matter at that point.
But Guishan was the kind of man who devised strategy within his command tent and achieved victory a thousand miles away.
Deshan turned his back on the meditation hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed. Tell me, what was his meaning? Did Deshan win or lose? And did Guishan win or lose? Xuedou commented, “Seen through.” This was his utmost effort to penetrate the ancients’ ultimate words. Only thus was he truly extraordinary. Xuedou said “Seen through” twice, dividing the matter into three sections. Only then was the koan clearly resolved. Xuedou was also like an impartial observer passing judgment on those two men.
Afterward, old Guishan remained unhurried. Only in the evening did he ask the head monk, “Where is the man who came here a short while ago?” The head monk said, “At that time, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed.” Guishan said, “In the future, that man will surely ascend a solitary peak, build himself a grass hut, and continue reviling the Buddhas and denouncing the patriarchs.” Tell me, what was his meaning?
Old Guishan did not harbor good intentions. Later, Deshan freely reviled the Buddhas and denounced the patriarchs, striking like rain and wind, yet he never left his own cave. Guishan saw through the entire course of Deshan’s life’s work.
Can it be said here that Guishan bestowed a prediction upon Deshan? Perhaps one might say that a great marsh can conceal a mountain, or that a fox can overcome a leopard? Fortunately, none of these things has anything to do with the matter.
Xuedou understood the essential point of this koan, and therefore dared to pass judgment for others, saying, “Adding frost atop snow.” He raised it once more for others to see. Whoever can see it truly stands shoulder to shoulder with Guishan, Deshan, and Xuedou. If you cannot see it, do not force an explanation according to your own ideas.
VERSE:
One seeing-through
Two seeings-through
Adding frost atop snow,
The Flying Cavalry General entered the enemy camp;
How many could still emerge unharmed?
He hurriedly passed through,
Showing no leniency,
Upon the solitary peak, he sits amid the grass.
Ah!
COMMENTARY: When Xuedou composed verses on the hundred public cases, he lit incense before presenting each case. Therefore, these verses became widely circulated throughout the world. Our master was skilled in literature and thoroughly understood the public cases. He always reflected carefully before setting brush to paper. Why was this? Dragons and snakes are easy to distinguish, but it is difficult to deceive a monk. Xuedou penetrated this causal circumstance and wrote three lines of criticism at its most difficult and obscure points. He then distilled its essence and composed the verse.
“Adding frost upon snow” comes close to falling into danger. But what of Deshan? He was like the Flying Cavalry General entering the enemy camp.
This refers to Li Guang, a skilled archer whom the emperor appointed Flying Cavalry General. After fighting the enemy, he was captured by the frontier tribes, who intended to have horses tear him apart. Guang feigned death.
Halfway along, he secretly opened his eyes and saw that the guard held a bow and arrows. He suddenly leapt up, seized the bow and arrows from the guard’s hands, and shot the guard dead. He then seized a horse and escaped.
The enemy continued to pursue him, but Guang drew the bow and shot one of them dead. The enemy became so frightened that they withdrew. This fellow possessed the ability to return to life from the realm of death.
Xuedou cites this episode in his verse to compare it with Deshan’s returning to meet Guishan: it was as though Li Guang had returned once more to the Han realm and had again leapt free as before.
Look at how the ancients saw things through to the ultimate, acted through to the ultimate, and functioned through to the ultimate; they truly were heroes. One must possess the ability to kill without blinking before one can immediately become a Buddha. Only one who immediately becomes a Buddha, who kills without blinking, has a share in freedom and mastery.
When people nowadays are questioned, at the beginning of the encounter they may still display something of a monk’s mettle; but press them with just a few more questions and immediately their bellies weaken, their legs turn soft, and they become flustered, utterly lacking continuity. Thus an ancient said, “Continuity is an extremely difficult matter.” Look at the conduct of Deshan and Guishan—were their views in any way sloppy or clumsy?
“How many could still emerge unharmed? He hurriedly passed through.” Deshan shouted and departed, just as Li Guang devised a plan to seize the bow after being captured, shot the frontier guard dead, and escaped from the enemy camp. Xuedou’s versification of this point truly displays consummate skill.
Deshan turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed. Some may say that he had prevailed, but how could they know that this old fellow Guishan remained as before and had never been willing to let him go? Xuedou said, “Showing no leniency.” That evening, Guishan asked the head monk, “Where is the newcomer who arrived earlier?” The head monk said, “At that time, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed.” Guishan said, “Later, that man will surely ascend a solitary peak, build himself a grass hermitage, and go on reviling the Buddhas and denouncing the Patriarchs.” When did Guishan ever let Deshan go?
Nevertheless, Deshan was extraordinary beyond measure. At this point, why does Xuedou say, “Upon the solitary peak, he sits amid the grass”? And when he had finished, why did he shout again?
Tell me: where does his meaning lie? Go practice Chan for another thirty years.
THE FIFTH CASE
XUEFENG’S GRAIN OF RICE
POINTER: One who wishes to uphold our lineage must surely be a heroic and worthy man, possessing the ability to kill without blinking, before he can immediately become a Buddha. Thus contemplation and function occur simultaneously; rolling up and spreading out are in harmony; principle and phenomena are not two; provisional and real proceed together. If one passes over even a single thing, one immediately establishes a secondary meaning.
Yet if all entangling vines are cut clean away at once, beginning students who come later will have nowhere to gain a foothold. Yesterday it was thus, and the matter could not be avoided. If today it is also thus, errors will fill the sky.
One with clear eyes cannot be deceived in the slightest. Otherwise, it is truly no different from lying in a tiger’s mouth—it would be difficult not to lose one’s body and life. Let me present this for all of you to see.
CASE: Xuefeng instructed the assembly, saying: “Gather the whole of heaven and earth together, and it is only as large as a grain of rice. Cast it down before you. If you still remain deluded and do not understand, I shall beat the drum and invite everyone to come and look.”
COMMENTARY: Changqing asked Yunmen, “When Xuefeng spoke in this way, was there still any place where he could not show his head and reveal his face?” Yunmen said, “There was.” Changqing asked, “Why?” Yunmen said, “One cannot always entertain the understanding of a wild-fox spirit.” Yunfeng said, “Compared with those above, it is insufficient; compared with those below, it is sufficient. Let me add some entangling vines for you.” Raising his staff, he said, “Do you still see Xuefeng? The king’s command is exceedingly strict and does not permit people to plunder in the marketplace.” Dagui Che said, “Let me add mud to the earth for you.” Raising his staff, he said, “Look! Look! Old Xuefeng is defecating right on your faces. Ah! Why can none of you smell the stench of excrement?”
Xuefeng instructed the assembly, saying, “Gather the whole of heaven and earth together, and it is only as large as a grain of rice.” The ancients, in receiving beings and benefiting living creatures, had exceptionally extraordinary ways. Never minding hardship, Xuefeng climbed Mount Touzi three times and went to Mount Dongshan nine times. Wherever he went, he displayed his black lacquer bucket and wooden ladle, serving as cook solely with the intention of penetrating this matter.
When he went to Dongshan, he also served as cook. One day Dongshan asked Xuefeng, “What are you doing?” Xuefeng said, “Washing rice.” Dongshan said, “Are you washing away all the rice, or washing away all the sand?” Xuefeng said, “I wash away both the sand and the rice.” Dongshan said, “Then what will the great assembly eat?” Xuefeng immediately overturned the basin. Dongshan said, “You have an affinity with Deshan.” He then instructed him to go and meet Deshan.
As soon as he arrived, Xuefeng asked, “Does this student have any share in the transmission of the lineage from ancient times?” Deshan struck Xuefeng with his staff and said, “What are you saying?” Through this, Xuefeng awakened. Later, when they were snowbound on Mount Ao, Xuefeng said to Yantou, “When I received a blow from Master Deshan, I felt as though the bottom had been knocked out of a bucket.” Yantou shouted and said, “Have you not heard it said that whatever enters through the outer gate is not a family treasure within the house?
It must be something that pours forth from within your own heart and covers all heaven and earth; only then will you have some measure of accord.” Xuefeng suddenly attained great awakening, bowed, and said, “Elder brother in the Dharma, today I have truly attained the Way on Mount Ao.”
People nowadays say that the ancients devised certain things to serve as rules for later generations. To speak in this way is merely to slander the ancients; it is no different from causing the Buddha’s body to bleed. The ancients were not careless like people today.
Why would they spend their whole lives seeking out a word or half a phrase? Thus, in upholding the school and perpetuating the life of the Buddha, when the ancients uttered but a word or half a phrase, it was enough to render the whole world speechless. They left you no place to think, form impressions, or contend with principles.
Just observe how Xuefeng instructed the assembly. Because he had encountered accomplished adepts, he too possessed the hammer and tongs of an adept. Whenever Xuefeng uttered a word or half a phrase, it was absolutely not the contrivance of demons who rely upon mental calculations or consciousness.
It simply revealed a person who stood out above the crowd. He judged all matters, ancient and present, leaving no opening for the slightest doubt. Xuefeng’s functioning was entirely like this.
One day Xuefeng instructed the assembly, “On South Mountain there is a turtle-nosed snake. Go and examine it carefully.” He also said, “The whole of heaven and earth is nothing but the eye of a monk; where do you know to go and defecate?” He also said, “I have met you at the Pavilion of Gazing toward the Province. I have met you at Black Rock Pavilion. I have met you before the Sangha hall.” At that time Baofu asked Ehu, “Set aside the matter of meeting before the Sangha hall; what is it to meet at the Pavilion of Gazing toward the Province and at Black Rock Pavilion?” Ehu immediately strode back to his quarters. Xuefeng often used such words to instruct the assembly.
“Gather together the whole of heaven and earth, and it is only as large as a grain of rice.” Tell me: can the essential point of this matter be measured by discriminating consciousness? You must break through the entire net of gain and loss, right and wrong, and relinquish everything at once. Only when you are free and at ease, naturally passing through the ring of entanglement, will you see where he functioned.
Tell me, where did Xuefeng’s meaning lie? People frequently misunderstand, interpreting it through sensory cognition and saying, “Mind is the master of the myriad dharmas;[14] the whole of heaven and earth lies within my grasp.” Fortunately, none of this has anything to do with the matter. When you arrive here, you must see through to the very marrow of the bones, yet without becoming entangled in cognition and sensory concepts.
If you are a capable monk, you will naturally see that everything Xuefeng did was entirely for the sake of others.
VERSE:
The ox’s head disappears;
The horse’s head appears.
In the mirror of Caoxi,[15] worldly dust is extinguished.
Beat the drum and look—yet you do not see him;
When spring comes, for whom do the hundred flowers bloom?
COMMENTARY: Xuedou naturally saw that ancient clearly. He merely had to take his pulse and then versify: “The ox’s head disappears; the horse’s head appears.” Tell me, what was Xuedou saying? If you can see it, it is as ordinary as eating gruel in the morning and rice at noon. Out of compassion, Xuedou first smashed everything to pieces with a single blow of the hammer, and then passed judgment on it all with one sentence. He stands alone, lofty and imposing, like a spark struck from flint or a flash of lightning. Without exposing his sharp edge, where does he leave you any place to take hold? Tell me, can you seek it by means of the faculty of thought? These two lines reveal everything at once.
In the third line, Xuedou opens a new path and reveals a little of the rule, already amounting to a fall into the dust. If you add words upon his words, phrases upon his phrases, and meanings upon his meanings, and then explain them accordingly, you not only burden this old monk but also betray Xuedou. Although the ancients’ words are like this, their meaning is not so.
Xuedou never devised principles with which to bind people. “In the mirror of Caoxi, worldly dust is extinguished.” How many people have reasoned and said that the tranquil mind is the mirror! Fortunately, such words have nothing to do with the matter.
If you concern yourselves only with discrimination and calculation, when will there ever be an end? These are merely fundamental words; how could this mountain monk dare not rely upon the fundamentals? “The ox’s head disappears; the horse’s head appears.” Xuedou has spoken all too clearly.
It is only that people themselves do not understand. Being so untidy, Xuedou continues his verse: “Beat the drum and look—yet you do not see him.” Can those who are deluded still see? Xuedou says to you again, “When spring comes, for whom do the hundred flowers bloom?” It can be said that he has thrown the gates wide open and pointed it out clearly for you.
When spring arrives, deep in a secluded valley beside a wild stream, in a place where no one ever comes or goes, the hundred flowers burst into bloom. Tell me, ultimately, for whom do they bloom?
CASE SIX
YUNMEN’S GOOD DAY
POINTER: Great Master Yunmen said, “I do not ask you about before the fifteenth day; after the fifteenth day, say a word.” Then he answered himself, “Every day is a good day.”
COMMENTARY: Great Master Yunmen first went to call upon Muzhou. Muzhou’s manner of teaching was like a whirling mechanism or a bolt of lightning—truly difficult to get hold of. Muzhou’s usual way of receiving people was that as soon as anyone entered, he would seize him and say, “Speak!
Speak!” The moment the person began to think, Muzhou would push him outside, saying, “A drill from the Qin dynasty!” When Yunmen came to see Muzhou, only on his third visit did he dare knock at the door. Muzhou asked, “Who is it?” Yunmen replied, “Wenyan.” Muzhou had barely opened the door when Yunmen rushed in. Muzhou seized him and said, “Speak!
Speak!” As soon as Yunmen began to think, Muzhou pushed him out. One of Yunmen’s feet was still caught in the doorway when Muzhou slammed the door shut, breaking Yunmen’s leg. Yunmen cried out in pain, yet immediately attained great awakening.
Later, everything Yunmen said resembled Muzhou’s words. Afterward, Yunmen also stayed for three years in the household of Minister Chen Cao.
Muzhou instructed Yunmen to go to Xuefeng. When he arrived, Yunmen stepped out from among the Sangha and asked, “What is Buddha?” Xuefeng said, “Do not talk in your sleep.” Yunmen then bowed. He remained there for three years. One day Xuefeng asked, “What is your understanding?” Yunmen said, “My understanding does not differ in the slightest from that of the sages of old.”
For twenty years, Venerable Lingshu never appointed a head monk. He would often say, “My head monk has only just been born,” and, “My head monk is tending oxen.” He also said, “My head monk is traveling on pilgrimage.” Then suddenly, one day, he ordered the bell to be rung to welcome the head monk who was outside the gate. The Sangha was astonished, but Yunmen indeed arrived. Lingshu invited Yunmen to stay in the head monk’s quarters. People called Lingshu “Chan Master Knowing the Sages” because he knew beforehand events of both the past and the future.
One day, Liu, the ruler of Guangdong, was about to raise an army and intended to come personally to the monastery to ask the Master whether the undertaking was opportune. Lingshu knew this beforehand, so he calmly sat and passed away. King Liu angrily asked, “Since when had the Venerable been ill?” The attendant replied, “The Master was not ill at all. He merely sealed a box and instructed that it be presented to the king when he arrived.” King Liu opened the box and found a card that read, “The eye of humans and devas is none other than the head monk in the hall.” King Liu understood the meaning, abandoned his plan to raise the army, and invited Yunmen to come forward and serve as abbot at Lingshu. Only later did the Master return to reside at Yunmen.
When Yunmen opened the Dharma hall to preach, someone asked, “Has the fruit of the Numinous Tree ripened yet?” Yunmen said, “Have you ever heard it said that it has not ripened?”
One day, King Liu invited the Master into the palace to hold the summer retreat, together with several other venerable elders, so that they might expound the teachings and preach the Dharma to the officials. The Master alone said nothing, nor did anyone approach him. A palace attendant composed a verse and posted it in the hall:
Yunmen ordinarily liked to utter three one-word Chan expressions: “Observe” (gu), “Reflect” (jian), and “Hmph” (yi). He also gave one-word Chan replies. A monk asked, “If one kills one’s father or mother, one repents before the Buddha; but if one kills the Buddha or the Patriarchs, before whom does one repent?” Yunmen said, “Exposed.” Another asked, “What is the Treasury of the True Dharma Eye?” Yunmen said, “Universal.” He gave people no opportunity to calculate and compare. In ordinary circumstances, Yunmen also frequently berated people. Whenever he uttered a word, it was like an iron bar.
Later, under Yunmen there appeared four enlightened sages: Dongshan Shouchu, Zhimen Guangzuo, Deshan Yuanmi, and Xianglin Chengyuan, all of them great masters of the school. Xianglin served as Yunmen’s attendant for eighteen years. Every day Yunmen would merely call, “Attendant!” When Xianglin replied, “Yes,” Yunmen would say, “What is this?” This continued for eighteen years, until one day Xianglin awakened.
Yunmen said, “From now on, I shall not call you again.” In teaching others, Yunmen ordinarily employed Muzhou’s methods. Yet it was rather difficult to gain a handhold, for Yunmen possessed hammer and tongs for pulling out nails and wrenching free pegs. Xuedou said, “I delight in the fresh methods of the Old Man of Shaoyang; throughout his life, my teacher did nothing but pull out nails and wrench free pegs for people everywhere.”
Yunmen presented a question to instruct the assembly: “I do not ask you about before the fifteenth day. After the fifteenth day, try to say a word.” The Master cut off all minute distinctions, allowing neither ordinary nor holy to pass through. Then he answered himself, “Every day is a good day.” “Before the fifteenth day”—these words too cut off all minute distinctions.
Yet Yunmen did not say that after the fifteenth day was the sixteenth day. Later generations may explain it however they please, but what relevance does that have? In establishing the style of his school, Yunmen naturally had a place from which to act for the sake of others.
As soon as he had finished instructing them, he answered on everyone’s behalf: “Every day is a good day.” These words penetrate past and present, judging everything before and after in a single instant.
For this mountain monk to speak in this way is also to understand by relying on words. Killing another is not as good as killing oneself. The moment a principle is established, one has already fallen into a deep pit. Yunmen’s single statement contains all three statements. This is precisely the essential principle and household style of the Master. Every teaching uttered by Yunmen must be traced back to its source. Otherwise, it is merely arbitrary conjecture. This matter does not require so many theories. If you penetrate it, you will naturally and immediately perceive the ancient’s intent. See how Xuedou elaborates and entangles the vines:
VERSE:
Cast away one,
Raise up seven.
Throughout the four directions, above and below, nothing compares.
Strolling leisurely, he treads away the sound of flowing water.
At a fleeting glance, he clearly sees the traces of a bird in flight.
The grass grows thick,
The mist drifts.
Upon Subhuti’s[16] cliff, flowers fall in profusion.
How pitiable, how lamentable, “shunyata.”[17]
Do not move!
If you move, I shall give you thirty blows!
COMMENTARY: Xuedou’s verses on the ancient cases are always like this. First, he invariably flourishes the Precious Vajra Sword for a while; only afterward does he reveal a little of the customary style. Even so, ultimately this cannot be understood dualistically.
“Cast away one, raise up seven.” People often interpret the Way through numbers, saying, “Casting away one refers to the matter before the fifteenth day.” Xuedou suddenly set down these two lines and shattered everything with his seal, yet he still disclosed a little for people to see. “Cast away one, raise up seven.” Above all, you must not rely upon words to calculate and compare. Why? How could a dry cake contain even a little moisture? People everywhere mostly fall into conceptual consciousness. You must understand the meaning of the matter before words are uttered. Then, when the great function manifests before you, you will naturally see it for yourself.
This is precisely why, after attaining the Way in the land of Magadha, Shakyamuni spent twenty-one days contemplating this matter: “The marks of all dharmas are quiescent and extinct; they cannot be conveyed through words. I should not preach the Dharma, but should quickly enter nirvana. They cannot be conveyed through words.
I should not preach the Dharma, but should quickly enter nirvana.” On reaching that point, even Shakyamuni had no place to open his mouth. Yet through skillful means, after preaching the Dharma to the five bhikshus, he went on to three hundred and sixty assemblies, explaining the teachings for the people of that time. All of this was merely skillful means; thus he removed the tattered garments of the practitioner.
Compelled by necessity, he had to follow the conventional meanings of shallow understanding in order to guide you. Had he immediately spoken the truth all at once, surely not even one person—or even half a person—would have been able to understand.
Tell me, what is the ultimate statement? Here Xuedou discloses a little of its meaning for others to see. You need only refrain from seeing any Buddhas above, any sentient beings below, any mountains, rivers, or the great earth outside, and any seeing, hearing, awareness, or knowing within.
Then you will be like one who has died and come back to life. You will no longer see good and bad as different. After that, you may freely and at ease maintain your equilibrium.
Only then will you understand Xuedou’s words: “Cast away one, raise up seven. Throughout the four directions, above and below, nothing compares.” If you penetrate this line of verse, then truly nothing throughout the four directions, above and below, can compare. The myriad phenomena—plants, animals, and people—are all merely reflections of your own household style.
Thus it is said:
“Amid the myriad forms, the body alone is revealed;
Only one who trusts oneself possesses courage.
In former years, deluded, I wandered in search of it;
Today I behold fire within ice.”
“Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am the World-Honored One.” Most people merely pursue the branches and forget the root. You must properly reach the mark; then naturally, when the wind blows, the grass bends, and when the waters arrive, the river rises. “Strolling leisurely, he treads away the sound of flowing water.” At that time, even while strolling leisurely, you can tread away the sound of flowing water. “At a fleeting glance, he clearly sees the traces of a bird in flight.” With one passing glance, even the traces of a bird in flight are seen as clearly as though they had been drawn. Once you have reached this degree, “the flames beneath the cauldron of boiling oil are blown out, and the forest of swords and mountain of blades are all shattered”; nothing is difficult.
Having reached this point, Xuedou, out of compassion and fearing that people everywhere might once again become caught in the snare of indifference, continued, “The grasses grow thick; the mist drifts. Tell me, whose realm is this? Can it be called ‘Every day is a good day’?
Fortunately, none of this amounts to anything. Even ‘leisurely stepping forth, severing the sound of the clear stream’ is not it; nor is ‘at a glance, clearly seeing the traces of birds in flight’; nor is ‘at a glance, clearly seeing the traces of birds in flight.’ ‘The grasses grow thick’ is not it, and ‘the mist drifts’ is not it. There is nothing whatsoever that is right.
At such a time, it is precisely ‘flowers do not grow profusely upon a cliff.’ Yet one must still pass beyond to the other side. It is like Subhuti, who avoided noisy places and sought quietude, entering a cave to sit in stillness. The devas scattered flowers in praise.
Subhuti asked, ‘Who is there?’ One of the devas said, ‘I am Sakra, Lord of the Devas.’ Subhuti asked, ‘What are you praising?’ Sakra said, ‘I honor the Venerable One for skillfully expounding the Prajnaparamita.’ Subhuti said, ‘I have never spoken a single word about prajnaparamita. Why do you praise me?’ Sakra said, ‘The Venerable One did not speak, and I did not hear. Neither speaking nor hearing—this is true prajnaparamita.’ Then he again caused the earth to tremble and scattered flowers.
Xuedou also composed a verse on this matter: ‘The rain has ceased, the clouds have dispersed, and the sky is half clear; several soaring peaks stand like a painted screen. Unborn does not know how to sit gazing into the cave, causing the earth to quake and celestial flowers to fall.’ Sakra had caused the earth to quake and celestial flowers to fall. Having reached that point, where could one hide?
Xuedou further said, ‘I fear that even hiding will be impossible; beyond heaven and earth, the realm is utterly full. Dim and hazy—when will it end? From the eight directions, cool breezes caress the hem of the robe.’ Even if you are perfectly clean and smooth, without the slightest fault, anxiety, or concern, this still is not the ultimate place.
Ultimately, what is the ultimate? ‘With a snap of the fingers—alas for shunyata!’ ‘Shunyata’ is a Sanskrit term meaning the spirit of empty space, having empty space as its substance and possessing no visible body that can be touched. Only when illuminated by the Buddha’s radiance does its visible form become manifest. When you have attained ‘shunyata,’ Xuedou will snap his fingers and sigh.
Xuedou then said, ‘Do not move!’ What happens if you move? It is like sleeping with your eyes open in broad daylight.
CASE SEVEN
HUICHAO ASKS ABOUT BUDDHA
POINTER: A phrase before any sound—the thousand sages could not transmit it. Before it is clearly seen, it is as though a thousand realms away. Even if you can discern it before any sound is uttered and cause everyone under heaven to be tongue-tied, you are still not a keen adept.
Therefore it is said, ‘Heaven cannot cover it entirely; earth cannot bear it. Empty space cannot contain it; the sun and moon cannot illuminate it.’ In a place where there is no Buddha, one is honored; only then does a single hair begin to emit great radiance, ranging freely in every direction, sovereign amid all things—whatever comes to hand, nothing is amiss. Tell me, what has been attained that is so extraordinary?
Again he said, ‘Great assembly, do you understand?’ In former times, no one knew of the weary horse; they merely spoke of merit encompassing the whole sky. For now, set this matter aside. What is Xuedou’s koan like?
Try to present it.
CASE: A monk, Huichao, asked Fayan, ‘Huichao asks the Master: What is Buddha?’ Fayan said, ‘You are Huichao.’
COMMENTARY: Fayan was capable of both striking and pecking, and he knew how to employ this ability; thus he could answer as he did. This is precisely to transcend sound and form, attain great freedom, and hold giving and taking, life and death, entirely within one’s own hands. Our master was truly extraordinary. People in various places have discussed this koan extensively, and there are quite a few who interpret it through sensory knowledge. How could they know that whenever the ancients taught with a phrase or a word, it was like sparks struck from flint or a flash of lightning, directly opening the true path?
People of later generations understand it solely by relying on words. Some say, ‘Huichao himself was Buddha, and that is why Fayan answered in this way.’ Others say, ‘It is like riding an ox while searching for the ox.’ Still others say, ‘The question itself is the issue.’ What do any of these amount to? If you understand it this way, you not only betray yourself but also grievously wrong the ancients.
If you wish to see Fayan’s ability in its entirety, you must be the kind of person who, even when struck with a staff, does not turn his head; whose teeth are like a forest of swords and whose mouth is like a bowl of blood; who knows how to seek the way home beyond words. Only then will you have some measure of accord. If everyone understands according to ordinary intellectual knowledge, then throughout heaven and earth there will be only those who extinguish the lineage of the Buddha.
As for Huichao’s awakening here, it was because our master constantly contemplated and investigated; therefore, upon hearing a single word, he was like a barrel whose bottom had been knocked out.
It was also like the monastery superintendent Ze, who, although he lived among Fayan’s assembly, had never requested a private interview. One day Fayan asked him, ‘Why does the superintendent not enter my room?’ Ze replied, ‘Does the Master not know that when this disciple was with Qinglin, I attained a little realization?’ Fayan said, ‘Try recounting it for me.’ Ze said, ‘This disciple asked, “What is Buddha?” Qinglin said, “The Bing-Ding boy comes seeking fire.”’ Fayan said, ‘Those are fine words, but I fear you have misunderstood them.
Try saying something more.’ Ze said, ‘Bing and Ding signify fire; thus it is using fire to seek fire. Likewise, this disciple is already Buddha, yet still goes searching for Buddha.’ Fayan said, ‘Indeed, the superintendent has misunderstood.’ Displeased, Ze gathered his belongings, departed, and crossed the river. Fayan said, ‘If this man returns, he can still be saved; if he does not return, he can no longer be saved.’ Halfway along the road, Ze reflected, ‘This man is the spiritual teacher of five hundred people.
Could he really be deceiving me?’ He therefore returned and entered to meet Fayan. Fayan said, ‘Go ahead and ask; I shall answer you.’ Ze asked, ‘What is Buddha?’ Fayan said, ‘The Bing-Ding boy comes seeking fire.’ Upon hearing these words, Ze attained great awakening.
Nowadays, there are people who glare wide-eyed and act as though they understand. It is like the saying, ‘Where there is no wound, do not inflict an injury.’ With this kind of koan, those who have practiced Zen meditation for a long time understand its essential point as soon as it is raised. In Fayan’s Zen lineage, this kind of koan is called ‘arrowpoints meeting one another’[18]. They do not employ the method of the ‘five ranks of lord and minister’[19] or the ‘four selections’[20], but speak only of ‘arrowpoints meeting one another.’ This is precisely Fayan’s house style: within a single phrase, one can immediately see and immediately understand. But if one searches within words, ultimately there will be nowhere to lay a hand[21].
Fayan appeared in the world with as many as five hundred disciples. At that time, the Buddhadharma was flourishing exceedingly. National Teacher Shao had studied under Shushan for a long time and considered himself to have attained Shushan’s essential meaning. Therefore, he gathered together all of Shushan’s writings and his portrait, and, leading a group of disciples, set out on pilgrimage. When he arrived at Fayan’s place, Shao himself never entered the master’s room for instruction; he merely told his disciples to follow the others in entering the room.
One day, Fayan ascended the hall. A monk asked, “What is a single drop of water from Caoqi?” Fayan said, “It is a single drop of water from Caoqi.” The monk withdrew in bewilderment. National Teacher Shao was also present in the assembly; upon hearing these words, he suddenly attained great enlightenment. He later appeared in the world as Fayan’s Dharma heir. He once presented this verse:
Fayan gave his seal of approval, saying, “This one verse alone is naturally sufficient to perpetuate my school. In the future, you will surely be honored by kings and nobles; I shall not equal you.”
Look at how the ancients attained enlightenment—what, ultimately, was it? Even if this mountain monk were to explain it to you, that would not be enough; you yourselves must temper your spirit throughout each day. If you can take responsibility in this way, then later you will be able to let your hands hang freely for the sake of others at the crossroads, finding nothing difficult.
Thus, when that monk asked, “Huichao respectfully asks the Master: What is Buddha?” Fayan said, “You are Huichao.” How had Fayan failed the monk in the slightest? Have you not heard Yunmen say, “If you do not examine it, you immediately go wrong. The moment you try to deliberate, when will you ever awaken?” Xuedou’s verse is truly magnificent. Let me bring it up for you to see!
VERSE:
In the river country, the spring breeze does not stir;
Partridges sing deep within the flowering thickets.
At three tiers of towering waves, a fish transforms into a dragon;
A fool still bails the pond at night.
Xuedou was truly an adept. Whatever in the ancients was difficult to chew or swallow, difficult to receive or penetrate, our teacher brought it all forth for others to see—extraordinary in the extreme. He knew Fayan’s pivotal point and also grasped the essential meaning of Huichao. Moreover, fearing that people of later generations might misunderstand Fayan’s words, he composed this verse.
That monk asked as he did, and Fayan answered as he did: this is precisely, “In the river country, the spring breeze does not stir; partridges sing deep within the flowering thickets.” These two lines are only one line. Tell me, where does Xuedou’s meaning lie? In Jiangxi and Jiangnan there are commonly two ways of understanding it. Thus they say that “In the river country, the spring breeze does not stir” versifies the words “You are Huichao,” while “Partridges sing deep within the flowering thickets” versifies the florid discussions heard in various quarters, as though they were the songs of partridges deep in the flowering thickets. Yet none of this has any bearing on the matter. How could they know that these two lines of Xuedou are only a single line?
Wishing to leave no opening whatsoever, I therefore tell you: language has reached its utmost limit, encompassing heaven and earth. That monk asked what Buddha is. Fayan said, “You are Huichao.” Xuedou said, “In the river country, the spring breeze does not stir; partridges sing deep within the flowering thickets.” If you can enter here, you can stroll leisurely into the lofty heavens. But if you try to understand it through sensory knowledge, you will not succeed even through three lifetimes and sixty kalpas.
Xuedou’s third and fourth lines are compassion at its utmost: for the sake of others, he reveals everything all at once. Chan Master Chao heard the words and attained great enlightenment; this is, “At three tiers of towering waves, a fish transforms into a dragon; a fool still bails the pond at night.” At the Gate of Yu are three tiers of waves. Mengjin is the Dragon Gate, which Emperor Yu hewed into three tiers.
During the third month, when the peach blossoms bloom, heaven and earth respond together. Any fish that leaps over the Dragon Gate grows horns upon its head, its mane and whiskers streaming all about, and rides away upon the clouds. Fish unable to leap over the waves are marked on the forehead and return.
Deluded people busy themselves chewing over words and phrases, exactly like bailing out a pond at night to catch fish. How could they know that the fish has already transformed into a dragon and vanished without a trace?
Preceptor Duan versified:
This verse is wondrous indeed, though it is somewhat clumsy. Xuedou’s verse is truly subtle and marvelous; hence the sword point does not pierce his hand. It is like when Chief Librarian Qing asked, “What is ‘At three tiers of towering waves, a fish transforms into a dragon’?” I do not concern myself with that. I only wish to ask you: after it has transformed into a dragon, where is it now?
CASE EIGHT
CUIYAN INSTRUCTS THE ASSEMBLY AT THE END OF THE SUMMER RETREAT
POINTER: If you understand, you can employ it on the road, like a dragon finding water or a tiger upon the mountain. If you do not understand, the public truth will still overwhelm you; you will be like a young goat butting a fence or a man sitting by a tree stump waiting for a rabbit. Sometimes a single phrase is like a crouching lion; sometimes a single phrase is like the Precious King’s Vajra Sword. Sometimes a single phrase makes everyone beneath heaven tongue-tied; sometimes a single phrase follows the rolling waves.
If you can employ it on the road, then when you meet a true connoisseur, you will know how to discern the appropriate occasion, distinguish right from wrong, and bear witness together. Where the public truth overwhelms all, with a single eye you can cut off all ten directions and stand towering like a thousand-fathom peak.
Thus it is said, “When the great function manifests before you, there are no longer any rules.” Sometimes a blade of grass is regarded as the sixteen-foot golden body of the Buddha; sometimes the sixteen-foot golden body is regarded as a blade of grass. Tell me, upon what principle can this be said? Let me bring it up for you.
CASE: At the end of the summer retreat, Cuiyan instructed the assembly, saying, “Throughout the entire summer, Cuiyan has spoken to you brothers. Take a look—are Cuiyan’s eyebrows still there?”
Baofu said, “The thief’s heart is empty.”
Changqing said, “They have grown.”
Yunmen said, “Barrier!”
COMMENTARY: The ancients studied the Way, investigating Chan in the morning and asking questions in the evening, without ever allowing an interruption. At the end of the summer retreat, Cuiyan again instructed the assembly in this way, yet he could not avoid standing loftily alone. It was truly enough to startle heaven and shake the earth.
Tell me: throughout the great treasury of teachings, the 5,048 scrolls, though they speak of mind and teach about nature, and speak of the sudden and the gradual, is there any such matter as this? For one thing, it was due to the circumstances of time and occasion, yet Cuiyan was indeed extraordinary. Consider how our teacher spoke like this; tell me, what was the essential meaning of his words?
When an ancient cast out a hook, it was never done falsely. There was always a reason, intended to benefit others. Most people misunderstand and say, “In broad daylight under a clear sky, Cuiyan spoke meaningless words, stirring up trouble where there was none.
At the end of the summer retreat, he reproached himself for his own faults so that others would not scrutinize him.” Fortunately, these words have no truth in them whatsoever. Such an understanding utterly destroys the lineage of the Buddha. If the patriarchal teachers throughout the ages appeared in the world without intending to instruct those under heaven, their coming would have been entirely useless.
For what purpose did they come? If you can see clearly at this point, only then will you know that the ancient truly possessed the ability to seize the plowman’s ox and snatch away the hungry man’s food. People nowadays, whenever they are questioned, immediately busy themselves chewing over words and phrases, clinging to Cuiyan’s eyebrows.
Look at those within his own household: they immediately understood Cuiyan’s ways and means, his myriad transformations and intricate subtleties; wherever they stood, they had a place from which to emerge. Therefore, they were able to respond to Cuiyan in this way. If Cuiyan’s words had contained nothing extraordinary, why would Yunmen, Baofu, and Changqing have rushed forward one after another to respond to him like this?
Changqing said, “The thief’s heart is empty.” This single statement alone later gave rise to countless interpretations based on sensory and intellectual understanding! Tell me, what was Baofu’s meaning? Above all, do not rely on language to seek the meaning of this ancient. If you attempt to offer an interpretation based on sensory and intellectual understanding or try to conceptualize it, Baofu will gouge out your eyes. Who knows that when Baofu uttered this “turning phrase,” he had already cut off Cuiyan’s tracks?
Changqing said, “Alive.” People everywhere commonly say that he was following in Cuiyan’s footsteps, and therefore said “alive.” Fortunately, this is not true in the slightest. Who knows that when Changqing said “alive,” he was presenting his own understanding? Each person has a place from which to emerge. But I ask you: where is the place that is alive? It is as though you were facing an adept wielding the Vajra Jeweled Sword. Only one who can shatter conventional interpretations and cut off gain and loss, right and wrong, can see the point at which Changqing responded to Cuiyan.
Yunmen said, “Barrier.” This is truly outstanding, though somewhat difficult to penetrate. Yunmen often used the method of one-word Chan to instruct people, although all three phrases were contained within that single word. Look at the way this ancient responded, sang in harmony, and engaged in debate; it is indeed far removed from the people of the present age. This is truly how one should utter a phrase. Although Yunmen spoke in this way, his meaning was certainly not here. Since it was not here, tell me, where was it? If you are a clear-eyed person capable of illuminating heaven and earth, you must radiate brilliantly in all eight directions. Xuedou threaded Yunmen’s word “barrier” together with the words of the other three into a single strand and recited his verse.
VERSE:
Cuiyan instructed the assembly;
For a thousand ages, none could answer.
The word “barrier” responded in kind—
Losing money and incurring punishment besides.
Old and frail Baofu,
His subtle maneuvering is hard to attain.
Cuiyan, bustling about,
Clearly is a thief.
White jade without a flaw—
Who can discern true from false?
Changqing understood clearly;
His eyebrows grew long.
COMMENTARY: If Xuedou had not been so compassionate as to compose this verse and reveal it to others, how could he have been called a good spiritual friend? When the ancients acted in this way, each and every deed was performed only because they had no other choice. Later students of Chan often cling to words and language, giving rise to interpretations based on sensory and intellectual understanding; consequently, they fail to see the meaning of the ancients. If someone were suddenly to step forward, overturn the Chan platform, and scatter the great assembly with a shout, I could not blame him. Even so, he would still have to have truly reached this level.
When Xuedou said, “For a thousand ages, none could answer,” he merely meant: look and see whether Cuiyan’s eyebrows are still there. What is so extraordinary about this that it should be said no one from ancient times to the present could answer? You must understand that whenever the ancients uttered a word or half a phrase, they were never careless in the slightest....
Only one possessing eyes that clearly perceive heaven and earth can understand. When Xuedou uttered a word or half a phrase, it was like the Vajra Jeweled Sword, like a lion crouching upon the earth, like sparks flying from flint, like a flash of lightning and a thunderclap. Without an eye atop his head, how could he have seen the essential point of Cuiyan’s words?
Cuiyan’s instruction was truly something no one from ancient times to the present could answer. It surpassed even Deshan’s staff and Linji’s shout. Let me ask: where is the point at which Xuedou acted for the sake of others?
How do you understand Xuedou’s phrase, “For a thousand ages, none could answer”?
What does it mean to say, “The word ‘barrier’ responded in kind—losing money and incurring punishment besides”? Even if you possess eyes capable of seeing through this barrier, when you arrive here you must still take utmost care. Tell me: was it Cuiyan who lost money and incurred punishment besides, or was it Yunmen? If you can see through this, I will acknowledge that you are a person with eyes.
“Old and frail Baofu—his subtle maneuvering is hard to attain.” Was he lowering himself? Was he elevating the ancient? Tell me: where did Baofu lower, and where did he elevate? “Cuiyan, bustling about, clearly is a thief.” Tell me: what did he steal that Xuedou should call him a thief? Take care not to be bound by his words. At this level, you must possess an ability of your own.
“White jade without a flaw.” Xuedou’s verse praises Cuiyan as being like white jade without the slightest blemish. “Who can discern true from false?” It may be said that very few people can distinguish them. Xuedou possessed great talent, and so he was able to thread the matter from beginning to end into a single strand. Only upon reaching the final passage did he say, “Changqing understood clearly; his eyebrows grew long.” Tell me: where did they grow? Quickly, look for them!
CASE NINE
ZHAOZHOU’S FOUR GATES
POINTER: A bright mirror on its stand—beauty and ugliness reveal themselves. A precious sword in hand—one may freely give life or take it away. When a Han comes, a foreigner goes; when a foreigner comes, a Han goes. In death, one gains life; in life, one gains death. Tell me: at this level, what is it like? Without the eye that sees through the barrier or a place in which to turn oneself around, upon reaching this point one clearly will not know what to do. Tell me: what are the eye that sees through the barrier and the place in which to turn oneself around? Please, try to present them.
CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “What is Zhaozhou?” Zhaozhou said, “The east gate, the south gate, the west gate, the north gate.”
COMMENTARY: Generally, the purpose of investigating Chan and inquiring into the Way is to see oneself clearly, but one must avoid discriminating through words and phrases. Why? Have you not heard Zhaozhou cite the saying, “The true Way is not difficult; only avoid discrimination”?
Yunmen also once said, “Nowadays, students of Chan gather in groups of three or five and chatter endlessly, saying, ‘These are extraordinary words; these are words that concern oneself personally.’” Little do they know that the ancients, relying upon skillful means, had no choice but to establish written words and spoken language solely to guide immature later students who had not yet clarified the ground of mind, had not yet seen their original nature, and had not yet escaped attachment.
The Patriarch Bodhidharma came from India solely to transmit the mind-seal of the Buddha, pointing directly to the mind so that one might see one’s nature and become a Buddha. How could there be all these entanglements? One must cut off words and phrases in order to see the truth directly.
Only after escaping every attachment can one be like a dragon finding water or a tiger taking to the mountains.
The virtuous ancients of old investigated Chan for a long time without penetrating it, or penetrated it without yet attaining clarity;[22] this was called “further inquiry.”[23] If one has penetrated it but still makes further inquiry, one must turn freely within words and phrases until no obstruction remains. But for one who has investigated Chan for a long time and still asks further questions, this is like handing a ladder to a thief.
In truth, this matter does not lie in words and phrases. Thus Yunmen said, “If this matter lay in words and phrases, are not the Three Vehicles and the twelve divisions of the teachings themselves words and phrases? What need would there have been for Patriarch Bodhidharma to come from India?” Among Fenyang’s eighteen kinds of questions,[24] this is regarded as the kind of question used to test the host.
It is also called a probing question.
This monk’s question was truly exceptional. Apart from Zhaozhou, anyone would surely have found him very difficult to confront. The monk asked, “What is Zhaozhou?” Zhaozhou himself was an adept, so he replied, “The east gate, the south gate, the west gate, the north gate.” The monk said, “This disciple is not asking about that Zhaozhou.” Zhaozhou said, “Then which Zhaozhou are you asking about?” Later, some called this “nothing-to-do Chan,” thereby deceiving no small number of people throughout the world.
Why is this? The monk asked about Zhaozhou, and Zhaozhou replied, “The east gate, the south gate, the west gate, the north gate.” Therefore, some people say that the master was merely answering about that city of Zhaozhou. If you understand it in this way, even country bumpkins understand the Buddha-Dharma.
This alone is enough to bring the Buddha-Dharma to ruin. How is this different from comparing a fish-eye with a pearl? They may resemble each other, but they are not the same.
As this old monk has said, if it is not in Henan, it is in Hebei. Tell me: is there something to do, or is there nothing to do? You must be exceedingly careful.
Lu Gongyuan said, “Only the final phrase comes near the closed gate; the essential purport is not in words and phrases: a wind every ten days, rain every five days. The country is peaceful and the people delight in their occupations, patting their bellies and singing.” This is called a time of great peace. What is called “nothing to do” does not mean pretending to be blind and calling that having nothing to do.
One must see through the pivotal mechanism, pass beyond the thicket of thorns, and be free, untrammeled, and at ease, just like an ordinary person one was before. Yet at that time everything is up to oneself: having something to do is fine, and having nothing to do is also fine. One moves freely in all directions, no longer clinging to nonexistence and making it into existence.
Some say, “Fundamentally there is nothing whatsoever to do. When there is tea, drink tea; when there is rice, eat rice.” This is truly a great falsehood. I call it imagining that one has attained what one has not attained, and imagining that one has realized what one has not realized.
Originally, such people have not penetrated through investigation at all. When they hear others speak of mind and nature, of the profound and the wondrous, they say, “Those are merely wild words; fundamentally there is nothing at all.” This is truly one blind person leading a band of blind people. They do not realize that before the Patriarch came, when had people ever called heaven earth or called mountains rivers?
Why, then, did the Patriarch still have to come from India? What do masters in various places speak about when they enter the room and ascend the Dharma seat? All such notions are merely sensory knowledge and conceptualization.
Only when sensory knowledge and conceptualization have utterly ceased can one see through. Once one has seen through, then, just as before, heaven is heaven, earth is earth, mountains are mountains, and rivers are rivers.
The ancients said, “Mind is the faculty; phenomena are its objects;[25] both are like blemishes upon a mirror.” Only when every blemish is cleansed away does the mirror shine; when mind and phenomena are both forgotten, the nature is true.[26] Upon reaching this realm, one naturally becomes free, untrammeled, and at ease. Even if one has reached the utmost limits of reasoning, this is not necessarily a secure place. At this point, people often misunderstand: they neither bow to the Buddha nor offer incense.
There may be a resemblance, but how can this already be called freedom, ease, and liberation? As soon as they are questioned, they act as though they have reached the ultimate; but when pressed further, they become flustered and confused. They sit there with empty bellies and lofty minds, yet when their final day draws near, it will be too late even if they wring their hands and beat their breasts.
The monk questioned in this way, and Zhaozhou answered in this way. Tell me, how are you to feel your way through it? This way will not do, and not this way will not do either.
Ultimately, how is it? These are precisely the difficult points. Therefore, Xuedou raised them to show the people of the world.
One day, while Zhaozhou was sitting, his attendant entered and announced, “The great king has arrived.” Zhaozhou, startled, said, “May the great king enjoy ten thousand blessings.” The attendant said, “Venerable Master, the great king has not yet arrived.” Zhaozhou said, “Yet you told me he had arrived.” The master’s action at this point was truly extraordinary. Chan Master Nan commented, “The attendant only knew how to announce a guest; he did not know that he himself was in the imperial homeland. Zhaozhou parted the grass in search of the man, and could not avoid covering his whole body with mud and water.” Do you wish to know the truth of this matter? Please read Xuedou’s verse.
VERSE:
Within the phrase, the question is presented directly;
In the vajra eye,[27] there is not a speck of dust.
East, south, west, and north face one another;
However many hammers strike, it cannot be opened.
COMMENTARY: Zhaozhou dealt with the situation like the Precious Vajra Sword. The moment you intend to think or speak, it has already cut off your head. It also often plucks out your eyes right before your face. Nevertheless, this monk dared to stroke the tiger’s whiskers and pose a question. It was as though, when there was no matter at hand, he deliberately created one, making it seem that there was a problem within the phrase. He presented the problem, and Zhaozhou did not disappoint him, but answered the problem in turn. It was not merely that the master was exceptional in this way. Because he was one who had seen through, he knew how to harmonize with that monk, as though it had all been arranged beforehand.
Have you not heard of the non-Buddhist who came to the Buddha holding a sparrow in his hand and asked, “Tell me, is the bird in my hand alive or dead?” The Buddha then stood in the middle of the threshold and asked, “Tell me, am I going out or coming in?”[28] The non-Buddhist could not answer and bowed in homage. This story is similar to the gong’an above; thus, the lifeblood of the ancients has never been severed. Therefore, it is said, “The question lies within the answer, and the answer lies within the question.”
Xuedou saw through things in this way, and therefore said, “Within the phrase, the matter is presented directly.” Within the phrase there is a question, and it also seems to have two meanings: it seems to ask about the person, yet also seems to ask about the scene. Zhaozhou did not shift by so much as a hair, but immediately replied, “East gate, south gate, west gate, north gate.” “In the adamantine eye there is not a speck of dust.” In this verse, Zhaozhou takes away both person and scene; he poses the matter within the phrase while also answering the monk.
This is called having both a question and an object. In an instant, he saw through that monk’s heart and innermost being. Were it not so, Zhaozhou could hardly have matched that monk’s question. Śakra is a Sanskrit word meaning “firm” and also “diamond,” implying eyes whose illumination is unobstructed.
Such eyes can not only see a single hair from a thousand miles away, but can also determine heterodox and orthodox, distinguish gain and loss, discern the appropriate circumstances, and know right from wrong.
Xuedou said, “East, west, south, and north face one another; however many hammer blows fall, it cannot be opened.” Since so many blows have already been struck, why can it still not be broken open? Is this truly how Xuedou saw it? How will you open this gate? Please ponder it thoroughly.
CASE TEN
MUZHOU’S THREE SHOUTS
POINTER: Thus, thus; not thus, not thus. In discussing battle, everyone grasps the crucial point. Therefore it is said, “If one proceeds upward, even Shakyamuni, Maitreya, Manjushri, Samantabhadra, the myriad sages, and all the lineage masters beneath heaven must close their mouths in silent frustration. If one proceeds downward, insects, maggots, and every living creature emit great radiant light, and all things tower aloft like mountains ten thousand fathoms high.” But what if one proceeds neither upward nor downward? If there is a principle, follow the principle; if there is none, follow established convention. Try to bring it forth and see.
CASE: Muzhou asked a monk, “Where have you just come from?” The monk immediately shouted. Muzhou said, “This old monk has been shouted at by you once.” The monk shouted again. Muzhou said, “After three or four shouts, then what?” The monk could say nothing. Muzhou struck him and said, “This useless fellow!”
COMMENTARY: Anyone who wishes to uphold our school must possess the eye of a lineage master as well as the ability of a lineage master. Muzhou was agile and keen, like a flash of lightning, and delighted in testing the scripture lecturers. Usually, even a single word or half a phrase uttered by him was like a mass of thorny brambles, impossible to tread upon with one’s feet or touch with one’s hands.
Whenever a monk arrived, he would say, “The public case is already complete; I will spare you thirty blows.” Or, upon seeing a monk approach, Muzhou would call, “Venerable!” As soon as the monk turned his head, Muzhou would say, “A timber carrier!” Whenever instructing the assembly, he would often say, “If you have not yet found an entry, you must seek a way out and a way in. Once you have found an entry, do not betray this old monk.” Such was Muzhou’s usual way of helping others.
This monk too was quite accomplished, but he had a dragon’s head and a snake’s tail. At that time, had it not been Muzhou, anyone else would surely have been thrown into confusion by him. For example, when Muzhou asked him, “Where have you just come from?” the monk immediately shouted.
Tell me, what was his intent? Yet this old fellow did not hurry; he calmly said, “This old monk has been shouted at by you once.” It was as though he were accepting the monk’s response on the one hand while testing him on the other, leaning over to see what he would do. The monk shouted once again.
He seemed to be right, but in fact he was not. He had already let Muzhou pierce his nostrils when the old fellow asked, “After three or four shouts, then what?” Sure enough, this monk could say nothing. Muzhou then struck him and said, “This useless fellow!”
He tested the man to the very end; the moment he opened his mouth, he recognized a kindred understanding. What a pity that the monk could say nothing, causing Muzhou to call him a useless fellow. If Muzhou asked you, “After three or four shouts, then what?” how would you reply so that Muzhou would not call you useless? If you are one who knows gain and loss, distinguishes right from wrong, and stands firmly upon reality, who would trouble himself over what comes after three or four shouts? Yet merely because this monk could say nothing, the old fellow was able to rely on that and bring the matter to a close; thus the old fellow concluded the public case on the basis of the facts. Listen to Xuedou’s verse.
VERSE:
Two shouts and three shouts—
An adept knows the workings of change.
If one rides upon the tiger’s back,
Both are rendered blind.
Who is blind?
Bring it forth for all beneath heaven to see!
COMMENTARY: Xuedou was always extraordinary in his way of helping others. Had he not been an expert, he would merely have shouted at random. Sometimes a shout is not used as a shout; sometimes a shout is used as a shout; sometimes a shout is like a lion crouching; sometimes a shout is like the Vajra Jeweled Sword. Xinghua said, “I see you shouting beneath the eastern veranda and also shouting beneath the western eaves. What are you shouting so wildly for?” Linji said, “I hear that you imitate my shouting. Let me ask you: a monk comes forth from the eastern hall, and a monk comes forth from the western hall. Both monks give a shout. Who is host and who is guest? If you cannot distinguish host from guest, then from now on do not imitate my shouting.”
Therefore Xuedou’s verse says, “An adept knows the workings of change.” Although that monk was encircled by Muzhou, he still knew where the workings of change lay. Tell me, where did that monk know the workings of change? Chan Master Lumen Zhi commented on this monk, “A person who understands Dharma affairs?” Yantou said, “In discussing battle, everyone grasps the crucial point.” Huanlong Xin said, “When pressed to the limit, one changes; through change, one finds a way through.”[29] This is precisely where the patriarchs caused people throughout the world to be tongue-tied. If you are one who understands the workings of change, then as soon as the matter is raised, you immediately understand the essential point.
Many people say, “Why concern yourself with Muzhou’s talk of three or four shouts? Just keep shouting. Never mind twenty or thirty shouts—simply keep shouting until Buddha Maitreya descends to be born.” They call this riding upon the tiger’s back. If you hold such a view, you do not understand Muzhou. Even if you wished to understand that monk, you would still be far removed. It is like a person riding upon a tiger’s back: he must have a sword in his hand and also know how to adapt before he can manage it.
Xuedou said that if it were so, then “both would become blind.” Xuedou is like the Heaven-Supporting longsword, his awe-inspiring majesty stern and formidable. If one understands Xuedou’s meaning, one will naturally understand a thousand matters and ten thousand matters all at once. Then one will see that the final part of Xuedou’s verse is merely a footnote.
He further said, “Who is blind?” Is the host blind, or is the guest blind? Or are not host and guest both blind? I bring this forth so that people throughout the world may see it together.” This is precisely the living point, which Xuedou versified all at once.
But why did Xuedou say, “I raise it for the whole world to see?” Tell me, how do you see it? Closing your eyes will do; opening your eyes will also do—but is there anyone who can escape?
Notes:
[1] “The ultimate meaning of the noble truth.” Buddhist philosophy distinguishes two truths (satyadvaya, the Two Truths): (a) paramārtha (ultimate truth, or the truth of ultimate meaning), namely the final truth, which belongs to the sphere (gocāra) of awakened wisdom; and (b) saṃvṛtisatya (conventional truth), or truth established by convention, which belongs to the sphere of ordinary knowledge. The Sanskrit word satya in this context may be translated as “reality.”
[2] Here we follow Itō Yūten’s edition. The edition of Chan Master Gufang does not contain the word “Buddha.”
[3] The Second Patriarch was Huike, also known as Shenguang. For Huike’s biography, see the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp, forthcoming from the same translator.
[4] The Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra, one of the important scriptures of the Prajnaparamita corpus. See Taishō 221.
[5] “Lacquer bucket”: a black bucket. In Chan terminology, this refers to ignorance.
[6] The edition of Chan Master Gufang does not contain this passage.
[7] The edition of Chan Master Gufang reads, “thereupon he made no further inquiry,” which appears more accurate.
[8] Here we follow the edition of Chan Master Gufang.
[9] The Third Patriarch was Sengcan. For his biography, see the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp, forthcoming from the same translator.
[10] The original reads, “beaten into a single piece,” implying that there is no longer any distinction between mind and objects, or between self and others.
[11] That is, Mazu Daoyi. For his biography, see the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp, forthcoming from the same translator.
[12] According to the Sūtra of the Names of the Buddhas, among the one thousand Buddhas of the Auspicious Kalpa, the two hundred and second is named Moon-Face Buddha, while the eight hundred and fifty-eighth is named Sun-Face Buddha.
[13] The Diamond Sūtra (Vajracchedikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra) is also an important scripture of the Prajnaparamita tradition.
[14] “Mind is the master of the myriad dharmas” may be compared with verse 1 of the Dhammapada: Manopubbaṅgamā dhammā manoseṭṭhā manomayā, manasā ce paduṭṭhena bhāsati vā karoti vā tato naṃ dukkham anveti cakkaṃ va vahato padaṃ. (See V. Fausböll, The Dhammapada. London: Luzac & Co., 1900, p. 3.)
[15] Caoxi was the place where the Sixth Patriarch Huineng resided; therefore, in the Chan tradition, the name Caoxi is often used to refer to the Sixth Patriarch.
[16] Emptiness-Born refers to Venerable Subhūti.
[17] Shunyata is a transliteration of the Sanskrit word “śūnyatā,” meaning emptiness.
[18] This means that the question and answer meet directly, as though the points of two arrows were touching.
[19] A Dharma method of the Caodong Chan school.
[20] A Dharma method of the Linji Chan school. See also the Record of Linji, forthcoming from the same translator.
[21] These two passages are absent from the edition of Chan Master Gufang.
[22] “Illumination.” Itō Yūten’s edition reads: “perfect” (complete and consummate).
[23] “Requesting further instruction” means seeking additional guidance from the master.
[24] Fenyang Shanzhao (947–1024), of the Linji lineage, contributed to the synthesis of the teachings of various Chan schools.
[25] “Dust” means an object of sensory perception.
[26] The edition of Chan Master Gufang does not contain this sentence.
[27] Shuojialuo is a transliteration of the Sanskrit word “śukla,” meaning pure.
[28] According to Itō Yūten’s edition: “The Buddha raised his fist and asked, ‘Open or closed?’”
[29] A saying from the Book of Changes.
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