佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

Part 6

CASE FIFTY-ONE

XUEFENG’S “WHAT IS THIS?”

POINTER: As soon as right and wrong arise, the mind is lost in confusion. Do not fall into stages, yet do not grope blindly either.

Tell me: is letting go the same as grasping? Having reached this point, if even the slightest thread of interpretation remains, you are still entangled in words. If you are still caught up in the workings of circumstances, then you are merely leaning on grasses and clinging to trees. Even if you attain solitary liberation, you still cannot avoid gazing toward the village gate from ten thousand miles away. Have you grasped it yet? If not, you must simply understand this manifest public case. Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: When Xuefeng was staying in a hermitage, two monks came to pay their respects. Seeing them approach, Xuefeng pushed open the door with his hand, emerged, and said, “What is this?” The monk also said, “What is this?” Xuefeng lowered his head and went back into the hermitage.

Later, the monk went to Yantou’s place. Yantou asked, “Where have you come from?” The monk said, “From Lingnan.” Yantou asked, “Have you ever gone to see Xuefeng?” The monk said, “Yes.” Yantou asked, “What instruction did my teacher give?” The monk related the foregoing story. Yantou said, “What did my teacher say?” The monk said, “My teacher said nothing at all; he merely lowered his head and went back into the hermitage.” Yantou said, “Ah, what a pity that at the beginning I did not impart the final word to my teacher! Had I done so, what could anyone in the world have done to old Xue?”

At the end of the summer retreat, that monk again brought up the story and asked for instruction. Yantou said, “Why did you not ask earlier?” The monk said, “I did not dare treat it lightly.” Yantou said, “Although Xuefeng and I were born of the same lineage, we do not die in the same lineage. If you wish to know the final word, it is this.”

COMMENTARY: Anyone who wishes to uphold the Chan school must be able to discern the circumstances confronting him. He must know advance and retreat, right and wrong, and clearly understand killing and giving life, grasping and letting go. If his eyes suddenly grow dim, then wherever he goes, when met with a question he merely questions, and when met with an answer he merely answers, unaware that his own nostrils are in someone else’s hands.

Xuefeng and Yantou both studied under Deshan. Those two monks came to visit Xuefeng, but their understanding reached only that far. Even when the monk met Yantou, he still had not accomplished that one matter.

He troubled these two venerable adepts to no avail. One questioned and one answered, one grasped and one released; even now, people throughout the world remain bewildered and mistaken, unable to distinguish clearly. But tell me: where exactly is the bewilderment and error?

Although Xuefeng traveled to many places, it was not until he stayed at an inn on Mount Ao that, through Yantou’s prodding, he attained thorough penetration. Later, because of the persecution of Buddhism, Yantou became a ferryman by a lake. A wooden board hung on each bank; whenever someone wished to cross the water, he would strike the board. Yantou would then say, “To which shore do you wish to cross?” Then, stirring his oar, he would appear from amid the reeds.

Xuefeng returned to Lingnan and presided over a hermitage. That monk had also practiced Chan for a long time. Seeing him approach, Xuefeng raised his hand, pushed open the door, leaned out, and asked, “What is this?” The monk also said, “What is this?” Xuefeng lowered his head and went back into the hermitage. This is ordinarily called understanding beyond words, and so that monk did not know where to get a hold. Some say that when the monk questioned Xuefeng in this way, Xuefeng could not answer and therefore lowered his head and withdrew into the hermitage. How could they know that there was a poisonous sting in Xuefeng’s intent? Although Xuefeng gained the upper hand, in concealing the person he revealed the shadow. What could be done?

Later, the monk took leave of Xuefeng and brought this public case to Yantou for judgment. As soon as he arrived, Yantou asked, “Where have you come from?” The monk said, “From Lingnan.” Yantou asked, “Have you ever gone to see Xuefeng?” If you wish to perceive this question, quickly focus your eyes and look. The monk said, “I have.” Yantou said, “What instruction did my teacher give?” This was no idle question. But the monk did not understand; he merely pursued the thread of Yantou’s words and turned along with it. Yantou said, “What did my teacher say?” The monk said, “My teacher said nothing at all; he merely lowered his head and went back into the hermitage.” This monk had no idea that Yantou, wearing straw sandals, had already walked several circuits through his belly.

Yantou said, “Ah, what a pity that at the beginning I did not impart the final word to my teacher! Had I done so, what could anyone in the world have done to old Xue?” Yantou, too, sided with the strong and did not support the weak. This monk remained benighted, unable to distinguish an adept from a novice.

His belly full of doubt, he assumed that Xuefeng did not understand. At the end of the summer retreat, the monk again brought up the story and asked for instruction. Yantou said, “Why did you not ask earlier?” This old fellow truly knew how to reckon.

The monk said, “I did not dare treat it lightly.” Yantou said, “Although Xuefeng and I were born of the same lineage, we do not die in the same lineage. If you wish to know the final word, it is this.” Yantou truly did not spare his eyebrows and eyes. Ultimately, how should you understand this?

Xuefeng once served as head cook in Deshan’s assembly. One day, as the evening meal approached, Deshan carried his bowl into the Dharma hall. Xuefeng said, “The bell has not yet rung and the drum has not yet sounded.

Where is this old fellow going with his bowl?” Deshan said nothing at all; he merely lowered his head and returned to the abbot’s quarters. Xuefeng related this incident to Yantou. Yantou said, “Even Deshan has not yet understood the final word.” When Deshan heard this, he had his attendant summon Yantou to the abbot’s quarters and asked, “Do you not approve of this old monk?” Yantou secretly expressed his meaning.

The next day, Deshan ascended the hall and gave instruction entirely unlike his usual teaching. Standing before the Sangha hall, Yantou clapped his hands and laughed loudly, saying, “Fortunately, the old fellow has understood the final word! From now on, what can anyone in the world do to him?

Even so, he will have only three years.”

In this public case, when Xuefeng saw that Deshan said nothing, he assumed that his teacher had gained the upper hand, never realizing that he himself had encountered a thief. Yet because he had once encountered a thief, he later knew how to become a thief himself. An ancient said, “Only the final word can open the prison.” Some say that Yantou was superior to Xuefeng. They have misunderstood. Yantou was superior to Xuefeng. They have misunderstood. Yantou often used this vital working to instruct the assembly, saying, “A clear-eyed person has no fixed pattern. To seize the object is lofty; to follow the object is lowly. As for this final word, even if you personally saw the Patriarch come, you still would not understand it.”

Near the evening meal, old Deshan himself carried his bowl down into the Dharma hall. Yantou said, “Even Deshan has not yet understood the final word.” Xuedou commented, “I had long heard of the one-eyed dragon, and it turns out that he truly had only one eye. Who would have known that Deshan was merely a toothless tiger? Had Yantou not thoroughly understood, how could we know that yesterday and today were different? Do you wish to understand the final word? It may be shown only to old Hu; it must not be allowed for old Hu to understand.”

From ancient times to the present, koans have differed in a thousand ways and ten thousand forms, like a forest of thorns. If you thoroughly understand them, no one under heaven can do anything to you, and even the Buddhas of the three times must yield before you. If you do not thoroughly understand them, then ponder Yantou’s words: “Although Xuefeng was born of the same stream as I, he will not die in the same stream as I.” Within this single sentence, there is naturally a place from which to emerge. Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

The final phrase,

I shall tell it to you:

The occasion when light and darkness run side by side.

Born in the same stream, they know one another;

Not dying in the same stream, they are utterly different.

Utterly different—

The golden-headed one[1] and the blue-eyed one[2] must be distinguished.

North, south, east, and west—go back!

Deep in the night, together behold the snow on a thousand peaks.

COMMENTARY: “The final phrase, I shall tell it to you.” In versifying this final phrase, Xuedou intended to exert himself on behalf of others. His verse is truly earnest, yet it only treats one small detail. If you wish to see through it, that is still not enough.

Nevertheless, our teacher still dared to open his mouth wide and say, “The occasion when light and darkness run side by side,” opening a path for you and settling the matter once and for all. In the end, he even added an explanation for you. One day Zhaoqing asked Luoshan, “Yantou said, ‘Thus, thus; not thus, not thus.’ What is the essential meaning of this?” Luoshan called, “Great Master!” Zhaoqing replied, “Yes.” Luoshan said, “Both light and dark.” Zhaoqing bowed his head in thanks and departed.

Three days later, he again asked Luoshan, “A few days ago, through the compassionate instruction of the Venerable, I received guidance, yet this disciple still has not seen through it.” Luoshan said, “I have already told you everything with all my heart.” Zhaoqing said, “I beg the Venerable to hold up a torch and illuminate the way.” Luoshan said, “If so, Great Master, bring forth your doubt and ask.” Zhaoqing said, “What does ‘both light and dark’ mean?” Luoshan said, “Born together and dying together.” Zhaoqing then bowed in gratitude and departed.

Later, a monk asked Zhaoqing, “What is it like to be born together and die together?” Zhaoqing said, “Shut that dog’s mouth.” The monk said, “Great Master, shut your mouth and eat your rice.” Afterward, that monk went to ask Luoshan, “What is it like when there is birth together and death together?” Luoshan said, “Like an ox without horns.” The monk asked again, “What is it like when there is birth together but not death together?” Luoshan said, “Like a tiger bearing horns.” The final phrase is precisely this principle.

In Luoshan’s assembly, a monk used this meaning to question Zhaoqing. Zhaoqing said, “Everyone knows. Why is this? If I utter a phrase in Purvavideha in the east, they also know it in Aparagodaniya in the west. If a phrase is spoken in heaven, the human realm also knows it. Mind knows mind; eye illumines eye.”

Being born in the same stream is still comparatively easy to see. Not dying in the same stream is entirely different; even Shakyamuni and Bodhidharma could not feel their way to it. “North, south, east, and west—go back!” There is a rather fine realm here. “Deep in the night, together behold the snow on a thousand peaks.” Tell me: is this “both light and dark,” “born in the same stream,” or “dying in the same stream”? Patch-robed monks with clear eyes, try to distinguish it.

CASE FIFTY-TWO

ZHAOZHOU’S STONE BRIDGE

POINTER: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “For a long time I have heard of Zhaozhou’s stone bridge, but upon arriving here I see only a log bridge.” Zhaozhou said, “You see only the log bridge; you do not see the stone bridge.” The monk said, “What is the stone bridge?” Zhaozhou said, “It lets donkeys cross; it lets horses cross.”

COMMENTARY: In Zhaozhou there is a stone bridge built by Li Ying during the Later Han dynasty. To this day it remains renowned throughout the realm. A log bridge is a small bridge consisting only of a single piece of timber laid across a stream.

That monk deliberately tried to diminish Zhaozhou’s imposing manner, and so he asked, “For a long time I have heard of Zhaozhou’s stone bridge, but upon arriving here I see only a log bridge.” Zhaozhou then said, “You see only the log bridge; you do not see the stone bridge.” This followed directly from the monk’s question. At first hearing, it seems like ordinary conversation, yet Zhaozhou used it to hook the monk. The monk indeed took the bait and therefore continued, “What is the stone bridge?” Zhaozhou said, “It lets donkeys cross; it lets horses cross.” Truly, within these words there is a place from which to emerge.

Zhaozhou was unlike Linji and Deshan, who used the staff and the shout; he used only words and phrases to kill and give life.

Examined closely, this koan seems merely like a contest of responsive wit; nevertheless, it is exceedingly difficult to penetrate.

One day, while looking at that stone bridge with the head monk, Zhaozhou asked, “Who built this bridge?” The head monk said, “Li Ying built it.” Zhaozhou said, “When he built it, where did he begin?” The head monk could not answer. Zhaozhou said, “You are always talking about the stone bridge, but when I ask where its construction began, you do not know.” One day, while Zhaozhou was sweeping the courtyard, a monk asked, “The Venerable is a good and wise teacher; why, then, is there dust?” Zhaozhou said, “The dust comes from outside.” The monk asked again, “In this pure monastery, why is there dust?” Zhaozhou said, “There is only a little.”

A monk asked, “What is the Way?” Zhaozhou said, “It is outside the wall there.” The monk said, “I am not asking about that road; I am asking about the Great Way.” Zhaozhou said, “The great road leads all the way to Chang’an.”

Zhaozhou delighted in using this kind of approach. Our teacher often taught people in ordinary, secure circumstances. He never thrust his hand onto a sharp point, yet naturally he towered lofty and majestic, employing this opportunity in an exceedingly subtle and wondrous way. Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

Not setting up the lofty and remote, the Way is all the higher;

Descending into the sea, one must still hook a giant turtle.

Laughable was old Guanxi, his contemporary,

Who knew only to say, “Release the arrow”—a futile waste of effort.

COMMENTARY: “Not setting up the lofty and remote, the Way is all the higher.” Xuedou speaks of Zhaozhou’s ordinary way of teaching people. Zhaozhou did not establish mysteries or speak of lofty and distant things. Our teacher was unlike most people in various places, who often say that only by shattering empty space, smashing Mount Sumeru to pieces, sending dust flying from the ocean floor, and raising waves upon the summit of Mount Sumeru can one be worthy of speaking of the Way of the Patriarchs.

Therefore Xuedou said, “Not setting up the lofty and remote, the Way is all the higher.” Others may stand as high as a cliff ten thousand fathoms tall in order to proclaim the Buddhadharma with extraordinary efficacy. Yet, although they are lofty and imposing, they still cannot equal Zhaozhou, who established nothing lofty or remote but, remaining ordinary and natural, smoothly turned things about. Zhaozhou indeed established nothing, yet was naturally established; he did not stand on high, yet was naturally lofty.

Only when the opportunity goes beyond all such loftiness can we perceive the wonder.

Therefore Xuedou said, “Descending into the sea, one must still hook a giant turtle.” Look at that clear-eyed master, Zhaozhou: he needed only leisurely to offer a word and employ a single turn of the mechanism. He did not hook shrimp, clams, snails, or mussels, but directly hooked a giant turtle. He was truly an expert. This line elucidates the koan.

“How laughable, old Quán Khê of the same age.” A monk asked Quán Khê, “For a long time I have heard of Quán Khê; now that I have arrived, I see only a water channel.” Quán Khê said, “You see only the water channel, but you do not see Quán Khê.” The monk asked, “What is Quán Khê?” Quán Khê said, “Swift as an arrow shot forth.”

A monk asked Hoàng Long, “For a long time I have heard the name Hoàng Long; now that I have arrived, I see only a yellow snake with flowery markings.” Hoàng Long said, “You see only the yellow snake with flowery markings, but you do not see Hoàng Long.” The monk asked, “What is Hoàng Long?” Hoàng Long said, “Gliding away.” The monk said, “What if it suddenly encounters the Golden-Winged Garuda?” Hoàng Long said, “Its life would be difficult to preserve.” The monk said, “Then it would be eaten by the bird.” Hoàng Long said, “Thank you, Master, for your offering.”

These are all instances of setting up lofty teachings. They are right enough, yet they cannot avoid being laborious. Ultimately, they do not equal the ordinary functioning of Triệu Châu. Therefore Tuyết Đậu said, “Knowing how to speak of ‘shooting the arrow’ merely wastes effort.” For the moment, set Quán Khê and Hoàng Long aside. How should you understand Triệu Châu’s words, “Let the donkeys pass; let the horses pass”? Try to discern it.

CASE FIFTY-THREE

MASTER MÃ’S WILD DUCKS

POINTER: Nowhere is anything concealed; the whole activity stands uniquely revealed. Encountering circumstances without obstruction, there is always an opportunity to emerge. Within impartial words, everywhere there is an intent to kill. But tell me: ultimately, where did the ancients rest? Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: Once, Master Mã was out walking with Bách Trượng when they saw a flock of wild ducks fly past. Master Mã asked, “What is that?” Bách Trượng said, “Wild ducks.” Master Mã said, “Where have they flown?” Bách Trượng said, “They have flown away.” Master Mã then twisted Bách Trượng’s nose. Bách Trượng cried out in pain. Master Mã said, “When did they ever fly away?”

COMMENTARY: If you look with true and proper eyes, Bách Trượng is a man possessing the true eye, while Master Mã raises waves where there is no wind. If you wish to become a teacher of Buddhas and Patriarchs, you must investigate Bách Trượng. But if you cannot even save yourself, investigate Master Mã. See how the ancients were never absent from This Place.

Bách Trượng left the dusty world while still very young and was thoroughly versed in the study of mind. At that time, hearing that Đại Tịch (Mã Tổ) was spreading the teaching in Nam Xương, he devoted himself to studying under him. He served as Mã Tổ’s attendant for twenty years, until, on going once more to see him, he heard a shout and attained great awakening.

Nowadays some say, “Where there was originally no lane, a gate was erected as an entrance to the lane.” If you understand it this way, you are like a worm on a lion’s body, living upon the lion’s flesh. Have you not heard the ancient say, “If the source is not deep, the stream will not run far; if wisdom is not great, vision will not reach far”? If nothing had been established, how could the Buddha Dharma have come down to the present day?

Look at the time Master Mã and Bách Trượng were walking and saw a flock of wild ducks fly past. Could Master Mã possibly not have known they were wild ducks? Why, then, did he still ask in this way? Tell me, where did the Master’s meaning lie? Bách Trượng knew only how to trail along behind him, so Mã Tổ twisted his nose. Bách Trượng cried out in pain, and Mã Tổ said, “When did they ever fly away?” Bách Trượng then suddenly awakened. Nowadays many people misunderstand: as soon as they are questioned, they pretend to cry out in pain, yet they still cannot leap free.

Once the masters of the school act for the sake of others, they always go all the way. Seeing that Bách Trượng did not understand, Mã Tổ could not avoid cutting his hand on the sharp point. Mã Tổ merely wanted Bách Trượng to understand this matter.

Therefore it is said, “If you understand, you can grasp it right on the road; if you do not understand, conventional truth spreads unchecked.” Had Mã Tổ not twisted Bách Trượng’s nose at that time, conventional truth would surely have spread unchecked. One must meet circumstances and conditions, turning freely to teach people to return to their own ground. Throughout the whole day there is not the slightest opening; this is called “the ground of nature, clear and lucid.” If one merely leans on grasses and clings to trees, half donkey and half horse, what use is that?

See how Mã Tổ and Bách Trượng functioned in this way. Although they seemed brilliantly clear and spiritually wondrous, they did not abide in brilliant clarity and spiritual wonder. Bách Trượng cried out in pain. If you see it directly like this, nothing in the entire realm is concealed; the place is fully manifest. Therefore it is said, “If you penetrate one place, a thousand places and ten thousand places are penetrated at once.”

The next day, Mã Tổ ascended the hall. Just as the assembly had gathered, Bách Trượng stepped forward, rolled up the bowing mat, and bowed. Mã Tổ then descended from the seat.

Upon returning to the abbot’s quarters, he asked Bách Trượng, “Just now, when I ascended the hall, before I had a chance to preach the Dharma, why did you roll up the bowing mat in that way?” Bách Trượng said, “Yesterday the Venerable twisted my nose, and it hurt terribly.” Mã Tổ said, “Where did you direct your attention yesterday?” Bách Trượng said, “Where did you direct your attention yesterday?” Bách Trượng said, “Today my nose no longer hurts.” Mã Tổ said, “You understand today’s matter very clearly.” Bách Trượng bowed and returned to the attendants’ quarters, where he began to weep.

A fellow attendant asked, “Why are you weeping, Master?” Bách Trượng said, “Just go up and ask the Venerable.” The attendant went up and asked Mã Tổ. Mã Tổ said, “Just go and ask your master.” The attendant returned to the quarters and asked Bách Trượng, but Bách Trượng burst out laughing. The attendant said, “A moment ago you were weeping; why are you laughing now?” Bách Trượng said, “A moment ago I was weeping; now I am laughing.” See how light and at ease Bách Trượng became after awakening.

There was no way to trap him; naturally, he was luminous and free. Tuyết Đậu’s verse says:

VERSE

The flock of wild ducks—

Who knows where they went?

Mã Tổ saw them and spoke together with him,

Speaking of mountain clouds and the moon over the sea.

As before, not understanding, he said they had flown away.

About to fly away,

Yet held back again.

Speak! Speak!

COMMENTARY: Tuyết Đậu begins his verse directly: “The flock of wild ducks—who knows where they went?” But tell me, how many were there? “Mã Tổ saw them and spoke together with him.” This versifies Mã Tổ asking Bách Trượng, “What is that?” and Bách Trượng replying, “Wild ducks.” “Speaking of mountain clouds and the moon over the sea.” This versifies Mã Tổ asking again, “Where have they flown?” Master Mã’s intent toward Bách Trượng was utterly natural, breaking free in its entirety. Yet Bách Trượng still did not understand and said, “They have flown away.” A double error.

“About to fly away, yet held back again.” Relying upon the facts, Tuyết Đậu concludes the koan. Then he says, “Speak! Speak!” This is precisely where Tuyết Đậu turns himself around. Tell me, what should you say? If you cry out in pain, you are wrong. If you do not cry out in pain, how should you understand it? Although Tuyết Đậu’s verse is exceedingly marvelous, he still cannot leap free.

CASE FIFTY-FOUR

VÂN MÔN’S “WHERE HAVE YOU JUST COME FROM?”

POINTER: Penetrating beyond birth and death, turning the pivotal mechanism. At leisure, cutting through iron and severing nails; everywhere, covering heaven and covering earth. But tell me, whose manner of action is this? Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: Yunmen asked a monk, “Where have you just come from?” The monk replied, “Western India.” These were words spoken face to face, like a flash of lightning. Yunmen said, “What teachings have there been lately in Western India?” These too were merely ordinary words of conversation. This monk was indeed an adept, and so he in turn tested Yunmen, immediately spreading out both hands. If an ordinary person had been tested in this way, he would certainly have been thrown into confusion. But Yunmen’s working was like a spark struck from flint, like a flash of lightning; he slapped the monk across the face.

The monk said, “If you are going to strike, then strike, but I still have something to say.” This monk had a place to turn himself around, and so Yunmen spread out both hands. The monk could say nothing, so Yunmen struck him again.

Yunmen was an adept; with every step he took, he knew clearly where his foot came down. He knew how to look ahead and behind and did not lose his way. This monk knew only how to look ahead, but not how to look behind.

VERSE

The tiger’s head and tiger’s tail are seized at once;

His awe-inspiring majesty prevails everywhere.

I ask again: do you not know how perilous it is?

Xuedou said, “I let it go this once.”

COMMENTARY: This verse of Xuedou is extremely easy to understand; its general import is simply to praise Yunmen’s pivotal action. Thus he said, “The tiger’s head and tiger’s tail are seized at once.” An ancient said, “Seize the tiger’s head, seize the tiger’s tail; in a single phrase, immediately understand the essential principle.” Xuedou merely relies on the facts to bring the case to a close. He admired Yunmen for knowing how to seize both the tiger’s head and its tail. When the monk spread out both hands, Yunmen immediately struck him. That was seizing the tiger’s head. Yunmen spread out both hands; the monk could say nothing, and Yunmen struck him again. That was seizing the tiger’s tail. When head and tail are seized together, the eyes are like shooting stars.

Yunmen was naturally like a spark struck from flint, like a flash of lightning, so that “his awe-inspiring majesty prevails everywhere,” causing the wind to rustle throughout heaven and earth. “I ask again: do you not know how perilous it is?” There truly is a perilous place here. Xuedou said, “I let it go this once. But tell me: if I did not let it go now, what would you do? Everyone in the whole world deserves a beating.”

Students of Chan nowadays all say that when Yunmen spread out both hands, that monk should have turned Yunmen’s own staff against him and repaid him in kind. This sounds correct, but in fact it is not. Yunmen could not have simply left you at that. There must still be something more.

CASE FIFTY-FIVE

DAOWU AND JIANYUAN GO TO OFFER CONDOLENCES

POINTER: Concealing the secret and preserving the whole truth, one immediately realizes it. Leisurely turning things around, one directly takes responsibility. As for acting like a spark struck from flint or a flash of lightning, cutting off error, seizing the tiger’s head and tail, and standing majestically like a ten-thousand-fathom cliff—set such things aside for the moment. Is there still a path by which one may help others? Try to bring it forth and see.

CASE: Daowu and Jianyuan went to a household to offer condolences. Jianyuan tapped the coffin and asked, “Alive or dead?” Daowu said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan said, “Why will you not?” Daowu said, “I will not say! I will not say!” On their way back, when they had reached the middle of the road, Jianyuan said, “Venerable, tell me at once. If you do not, I will strike you.” Daowu said, “Strike if you will, but I still will not say.” Jianyuan then struck him.

Afterward, Daowu passed away. Jianyuan went to see Shishuang [3] and recounted the story. Shishuang said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan said, “Why will you not?” Shishuang said, “I decidedly will not say.” Hearing this, Jianyuan awakened.

One day, Jianyuan entered the Dharma hall carrying a hoe and walked from east to west, then from west to east. Shishuang said, “What are you doing?” Jianyuan said, “I am searching for the sacred bones of the late master.” Shishuang said, “Vast waves surge one upon another, their billows reaching the heavens. What sacred bones of the late masters are you searching for?”

Xuedou commented, “Alas! Alas!” Jianyuan said, “Precisely for this reason, one must exert oneself.”

Fu of Taiyuan said, “The sacred bones of the late masters are still there.”

COMMENTARY: Daowu and Jianyuan went to a household to offer condolences. Jianyuan tapped the coffin and said, “Alive or dead?” Daowu said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” If, upon hearing these words, you immediately understand their profound intent, this is precisely the key for escaping birth and death. If you have not yet reached this point, you will often easily miss it.

Observe the ancients: whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, they always kept this matter in mind. As soon as they arrived at the household to offer condolences, Jianyuan tapped the coffin and asked, “Alive or dead?” Daowu did not shift so much as a hair’s breadth, but said to Jianyuan, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan missed it right before his face and became preoccupied with pursuing Daowu’s words and phrases. He then said, “Why will you not?” Daowu said, “I will not say! I will not say!” It may be said that Daowu was utterly wholehearted, meeting error with error.

Jianyuan had still not awakened. Halfway home, he continued to ask, “Venerable, tell me at once. If you do not, I will strike you.” What did this old fellow know of good and bad? This was truly a case of good intentions receiving no good reward. Daowu remained as earnest as before and said to Jianyuan, “Strike if you will, but I still will not say.” Jianyuan then struck him. Even so, Daowu was still one degree superior. Daowu was so earnest on Jianyuan’s behalf, yet Jianyuan remained utterly bewildered.

After being struck, Daowu also said to Jianyuan, “You should keep out of sight for a while. I fear that if the monastery administrator discovers what happened, he will certainly make trouble for you.” He then secretly sent Jianyuan away. Such was Daowu’s compassion. Jianyuan went to a small monastery, where he heard a practitioner reciting the Guanyin Sutra: “For those who must be liberated through the body of a bhiksu, he manifests in the body of a bhiksu and teaches the Dharma.” Jianyuan suddenly attained great awakening and said, “At that time I wrongly blamed the late master. Now I understand that this matter does not lie in words and phrases.” An ancient said, “Even immeasurably great people may still be turned about by words as usual.”

Some, explaining according to their biased views, say that when Daowu said, “I will not say! I will not say!” he had already said it. This is called “turning one’s back and tumbling head over heels, leaving everyone in the world unable to find a way to grasp it.” If you understand it in this way, how can you attain peace?

If your heels touch the ground, you will not be separated from it by so much as a hair’s breadth. Have you not heard the story of the seven wise women passing through the Sitavana charnel ground? One of them pointed to a corpse and asked, “The corpse is here, but where is the person?” The eldest said, “What?

What?” At once, all of them realized the patient acceptance of the non-arising of dharmas. Yet among a thousand or ten thousand people, scarcely one such person can be found.

Afterward, Jianyuan went to see Shishuang and recounted the earlier incident. Shishuang said, “It cannot be said that he was alive, nor can it be said that he was dead.” Jianyuan said, “Why can it not be said?” Shishuang said, “It absolutely cannot.” Hearing this, Jianyuan suddenly awakened. One day, hearing this, Jianyuan suddenly awakened.

One day, Jianyuan took a hoe into the Dharma Hall and walked from east to west, then from west to east, intending to present his understanding. As expected, Shishuang asked, “What are you doing?” Jianyuan said, “I am searching for the sacred bones of the ancient masters.” Shishuang then cut off Jianyuan’s heels, saying, “Great waves surge one upon another, their billows reaching the sky. What sacred bones of the ancient masters are you searching for?” Jianyuan was searching for the sacred bones of the ancient masters; why did Shishuang speak to him in this way?

At this point, if you understand the statement, “It cannot be said that he was alive, nor can it be said that he was dead,” you will know that from beginning to end there is complete functioning in every encounter. If you are concerned with establishing principles, calculating, comparing, and pondering, it will be very difficult to see.

Jianyuan said, “Precisely because of this, one must exert oneself.” See how naturally he could speak after awakening. A broken fragment of Daowu’s bone was like yellow gold; when struck, it rang like bronze. Xuedou commented, “Heavens!

Heavens!” His meaning falls on both sides. Taiyuan Fu said, “The sacred bones of the ancient masters are still there.” Naturally, he spoke with perfect assurance. Yet tell me: where is the essential point?

How should one exert oneself? Have you not heard it said that if one penetrates a single place, one immediately penetrates tens of thousands of places? If you thoroughly understand the statement, “It cannot be said that he was alive, nor can it be said that he was dead,” you will render everyone under heaven speechless.

If you have not yet thoroughly understood it, you must personally investigate Chan and awaken for yourself. You cannot pass your days in idleness; you must know how precious time is. Xuedou chanted:

VERSE

Hares and horses have horns;

Oxen and goats have no horns.

Severed hair, severed tail—

Like mountains, like peaks.

The sacred bones of yellow gold still remain;

Where can the billows reaching the sky be placed?

There is nowhere they may be placed;

Even the sandal that returned westward[4] has been lost.

COMMENTARY: Xuedou was exceedingly skillful at adding footnotes. He was a descendant in Yunmen’s lineage, possessing both hammer and tongs; within a single statement, all three statements were complete. What could not be spoken, he fully explained; what could not be opened, he flung wide open. Chanting directly at the crucial point, he said, “Hares and horses have horns; oxen and goats have no horns.” Tell me: why do hares and horses have horns, and why do oxen and goats have no horns? Only when you thoroughly understand the preceding story will you see the place from which Xuedou acted for the sake of others.

Some misunderstand and say, “Not speaking is itself speaking; having no statement is having a statement. Hares and horses have no horns, yet he says they have horns; oxen and goats have horns, yet he says they have no horns.” But this does not touch the matter at all. How could they know that the ancient masters transformed in a thousand ways and ten thousand forms and manifested such spiritual powers solely to smash apart your spirit-consciousness in its demon cave? If you understand in this way, there is no longer any need to use the word “understand.” “Hares and horses have horns; oxen and goats have no horns. Severed hair, severed tail—like mountains, like peaks.” These four lines are like a mani jewel.[5] Xuedou sets it directly before you.

The final part of the verse concludes the koan on the basis of the incident: “The sacred bones of yellow gold still remain; where can the billows reaching the sky be placed?” This line chants the words of Shishuang and Taiyuan Fu. Why is there nowhere to place them? “Even the sandal that returned westward has been lost.” The divine tortoise drags its tail. This is precisely where Xuedou turns about for the sake of others. An ancient said, “Investigate only the living statement; do not investigate the dead statement.” Since it has already been lost, why do these fellows continue arguing with one another?

CASE FIFTY-SIX

QINSHAN’S ONE ARROW BREAKS THROUGH THREE BARRIERS

POINTER: The Buddhas have never appeared in the world, nor has there ever been any Dharma to give to people. The Patriarch never came from the West,[6] nor did he ever transmit mind. It is only because people of the world do not understand that they seek outside themselves. How could they know that the one great matter of causes and conditions lies beneath their own feet, and that even the sages cannot feel it out? Right now, from where do seeing and not seeing, hearing and not hearing, speaking and not speaking, knowing and not knowing come? If you have not yet thoroughly understood, then please strive to investigate within the entangling vines. Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: Chan Traveler Liang asked Qinshan, “What is it like when one arrow breaks through three barriers?” Qinshan said, “Bring out the commander within the barriers and let me see him!” Chan Traveler Liang said, “If so, it means that upon recognizing an error, one must correct it.” Qinshan said, “If so, what further time are you waiting for?” Chan Traveler Liang said, “A well-shot arrow has struck nowhere at all.” Then he turned and left.

Qinshan said, “Master, come here for a moment.” Chan Traveler Liang turned his head. Qinshan seized him and said, “Set aside for the moment this matter of one arrow breaking through three barriers. Try shooting an arrow for Qinshan to see!” Chan Traveler Liang was about to argue, but Qinshan struck him seven times and said, “I am quite prepared to let this fellow keep doubting for another thirty years.”

COMMENTARY: Chan Traveler Liang was truly a battle-hardened general. In Qinshan’s hands he turned left and right, evading and darting away. In the end, regrettably, all his arrows were broken. Even so, “Although General Li had a fragrant reputation, he was never enfeoffed as a marquis; it was all to no avail.” This koan has one way out and one way in, one grasping and one releasing. “Meeting the situation face-to-face, bring it forth; meeting the situation face-to-face, act swiftly.” In neither case does one fall into being or nonbeing, gain or loss. This is called the “mysterious mechanism.” If one lacks even a little strength, one will inevitably stumble and fall.

This monk too was an intelligent patch-robed monk,[7] and the question he posed could truly startle everyone under heaven. Qinshan was an expert within our school, so he immediately knew the essential point of the monk’s question: “What is it like when one arrow breaks through three barriers?” Qinshan’s reply implied, “Set aside for the moment the matter of your shooting through them. Bring out the commander within the barriers and let me see him.” Chan Traveler Liang said, “If so, it means that upon recognizing an error, one must correct it.” Truly extraordinary. Qinshan said, “If so, what further time are you waiting for?” See how he replied. Qinshan’s question left no opening whatsoever.

Finally, Chan Traveler Liang said, “A well-shot arrow has struck nowhere at all,” then shook out his sleeves and was about to leave. Qinshan immediately called after him, “Master, come here for a moment!” Chan Traveler Liang had indeed not yet gained a firm grasp, so he turned his head. Qinshan seized him and said, “Set aside for the moment this matter of one arrow breaking through three barriers. Try shooting an arrow for Qinshan to see!” Just as Chan Traveler Liang was about to argue, Qinshan struck him seven times. He then rebuked him, saying, “I am quite prepared to let this fellow keep doubting for another thirty years.”

Students of Chan nowadays all ask, “Why did he not strike Lang the Chan Traveler eight blows or six blows, but used only seven? Or why did he not strike him immediately after he asked, ‘Why does the teacher not try shooting an arrow?’” Though speaking this way may seem correct, it is actually incorrect. If you wish to understand this case, you must not retain any such comparative reasoning in your mind; you must go beyond language. Only then can you break through three barriers with a single phrase and have a place from which to shoot the arrow. If you still harbor thoughts of right and wrong, you will never be able to feel your way to it.

At that time, if that monk had truly been an adept, Qinshan himself would surely have been in danger. Because Lang the Chan Traveler could not carry out the command, he could not avoid being afflicted by its execution. But tell me: ultimately, who is the commander within the barrier? Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

I bring out the guardian of the barrier for you;

Those who shoot arrows must not be careless.

Take one eye, and the ears will surely be deaf;

Let go of one ear, and both eyes will be blind.

How lamentable—a single arrow breaks through three barriers;

Perfectly clear is the path the arrow travels.

Have you not heard

Xuansha’s words:

“Before heaven arose, the great man made mind the patriarch.”

COMMENTARY: Several lines in this verse were taken from a verse by Guizong. In former times, Guizong acquired the name Guizong because he composed that verse. In our school, this is called “the place of the essential principle.” Later, when Tongan heard of this case, he said, “Lang was indeed skilled at shooting arrows, but he did not know how to shoot so as to hit the target.” A monk asked, “How, then, could one hit the target?” Tongan said, “Who is the commander of the barrier?” Later, a monk related this to Qinshan. Qinshan said, “Though Lang was like that, he still could not escape Qinshan’s mouth. Nevertheless, Tongan also had no good intention.”

Xuedou said, “I bring out the guardian of the barrier for you.” Open your eyes and you see him; close your eyes and you see him. Whether formed or formless, all are cut into three sections. “Those who shoot arrows must not be careless.” If you are skilled in shooting arrows, you will not be careless; if you do not know how to shoot skillfully, you will inevitably be careless. You should understand: “Take one eye, and the ears will surely be deaf; let go of one ear, and both eyes will be blind.” Tell me: when one eye is taken, why do the ears become deaf? When one ear is let go, why do both eyes become blind? Only when you have no mind of grasping and rejecting can you penetrate these words. If you have a mind of grasping and rejecting, it will be exceedingly difficult to see.

“How lamentable—a single arrow breaks through three barriers; perfectly clear is the path the arrow travels.” Lang the Chan Traveler asked, “What is it like when a single arrow breaks through three barriers?” Qinshan said, “Bring out the commander within the barrier and let me see him.” These words, all the way to the conclusion of Tongan’s case, are merely “the path the arrow flies.” What is it ultimately? “Have you not heard Xuansha’s words: ‘Before heaven arose, the great man made mind the patriarch’?” People commonly regard mind as the source of the patriarchs; why, then, is the adept here the patriarch even before heaven and earth came into being? If you penetrate this juncture, you will know the commander within the barrier.

“Perfectly clear is the path the arrow travels.” If you wish to hit the target, there is clearly a path behind the arrow. But tell me: what is the path behind the arrow? You must exert the power of sustained investigation.

“Before heaven arose, the great man made mind the patriarch.” Xuansha often instructed the assembly with these words. This is a line from Guizong’s verse, which Xuedou mistakenly attributed to Xuansha. If students of Chan nowadays take this mind as the patriarch and ancestor, then even if they practice Chan until Maitreya Buddha descends into the world, they will still not understand.

For a great man, mind still remains a descendant. Before heaven and earth were divided, it was already father and elder brother. Tell me: at that very moment, what is prior to heaven and earth?

CASE FIFTY-SEVEN

ZHAOZHOU’S “THE ULTIMATE WAY IS NOT DIFFICULT”

POINTER: Before you penetrate it, the case resembles a silver mountain and an iron wall. Once you have penetrated it, you yourself are the silver mountain and iron wall. If someone asks, “How is this so?” simply tell that person, “If you can reveal one working, perceive one scene, and cut off words at this case, without communicating with either ordinary people or sages, it may not be beyond your ability.” But if you have not yet reached this point, look to the example of the ancients.

CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “The Ultimate Way is not difficult; it only abhors discrimination. What does it mean not to discriminate?” Zhaozhou said, “Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am the World-Honored One.” The monk said, “That is still discrimination.” Zhaozhou said, “Country bumpkin! Where is the discrimination?” The monk was unable to reply.

COMMENTARY: The monk asked Zhaozhou about the line, “The Ultimate Way is not difficult; it only abhors discrimination,” from the Third Patriarch Sengcan’s Inscription on Faith in Mind. He directly cited the line itself. Countless people misunderstand it. Why? According to them, the Ultimate Way is neither difficult nor not difficult; one merely ought not to discriminate. If you understand it this way, then even after ten thousand years you will not see it, even in a dream.

Zhaozhou often used these words to question people everywhere. This monk, in turn, brought this question to Zhaozhou. If one seeks through language, this monk truly shook heaven and moved the earth.

But what if one does not remain within language? You must investigate Chan for another thirty years before you can turn this pivotal key. Only then will you understand.

If you wish to stroke a tiger’s whiskers, you must rely upon your own ability. This monk, heedless of danger and death, dared to stroke the tiger’s whiskers and therefore said, “That is still discrimination.” Zhaozhou immediately stopped his mouth, saying at once, “Country bumpkin! Where is the discrimination?” If this monk had questioned anyone else, that person would surely have been thrown into confusion.

But what could be done when this old fellow was an adept? Zhaozhou moved where movement was impossible and turned where turning was impossible.

If you thoroughly understand all such venomous phrases and the myriad differences and variations, then all the world’s frivolous arguments become ghee. If you can reach the place of reality, you will see Zhaozhou’s heart shining clearly there. “Country bumpkin!” is an expression used by people in Futang to revile someone as a foolish ignoramus. That monk said, “That is still discrimination.” Zhaozhou said, “Country bumpkin! Where is the discrimination?” The eye of a master of the school must be like this, like a golden-winged garuda parting the waters, seizing a dragon, and swallowing it. Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

Deep as the sea,

Steadfast as a mountain.

A mosquito flits about in a raging gale;

An ant tries to shake an iron pillar.

Discrimination! Calculation!

A cloth drum beneath the eaves.

COMMENTARY: Xuedou comments on Zhaozhou’s two phrases, saying, “Deep as the sea, steadfast as a mountain.” The monk said, “That is still discrimination.” Therefore Xuedou said that he was like a mosquito flitting about in a raging gale, or an ant trying to shake an iron pillar. Xuedou praises his tremendous courage. Why? This was the place of the ultimate functioning of all under heaven, yet he dared to speak in this manner. Zhaozhou did not let him go either, but said, “Country bumpkin! Where is the discrimination?” Are these not the raging gale and the iron pillar?

“So hề đo hề, the cloth drum beneath the eaves.” In the end, Xuedou adds a comment that brings it vividly back to life. If you can understand it clearly, then everything is brought forth by you yourselves. Why is this? Have you not heard it said that if you wish to reach the intimate place, do not bring the question back to ask again? Therefore, it is the cloth drum beneath the eaves.

CASE FIFTY-EIGHT

ZHAOZHOU AND THE FORMULA OF THE PRESENT AGE

POINTER: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “The Great Way is not difficult; simply refrain from discrimination. Is this not the formula of people everywhere nowadays?” Zhaozhou said, “Someone once asked me this. For five years now, I still have not known how to explain it.”

COMMENTARY: Throughout his life, Zhaozhou did not rely on the methods of the staff and the shout, yet his functioning surpassed even those methods. This monk’s question was also exceedingly extraordinary. Anyone other than Zhaozhou would surely have found it extremely difficult to answer him. Because Zhaozhou was an adept, he merely told the monk, “Someone once asked me this. For five years now, I still have not known how to explain it.” The question towers ten thousand fathoms high, and the answer in no way treats the question lightly. You need only understand it thus, and it may be said that the case is right here. If you do not understand, you should likewise cease discriminating.

Do you not know the story of a monk in Touzi’s lineage who served as secretary in Xuedou’s assembly? Xuedou instructed him to investigate the phrase, “The Great Way is not difficult; simply refrain from discrimination.” Through this, the monk awakened. One day Xuedou asked him, “What does ‘The Great Way is not difficult; simply refrain from discrimination’ mean?” The monk replied, “Beast! Beast!” Later, he went into seclusion on Mount Touzi. Whenever he went to serve as abbot, he would wrap his straw sandals and scriptures in his kasaya. A monk asked Zongdao, “What is the family style of a practitioner of the Way?” Zongdao said, “Straw sandals inside the kasaya.” The monk asked again, “I still do not understand your meaning.” Zongdao said, “Walking eastward with bare feet.”

Thus it is said, “Making offerings to the Buddha does not depend solely on an abundance of incense.” If you can penetrate this, then releasing and seizing lie in your own hands. This case consists of one question and one answer, perfectly clear and distinct; why, then, did Zhaozhou say that he could not explain it? But tell me: is it truly the formula of people of the present age? Did Zhaozhou answer within the formula or outside the formula? You should know that this matter does not reside in words. If someone penetrates it to the very marrow and also possesses complete faith, that person will be like a dragon meeting water or a tiger relying on the mountains. The verse says:

VERSE

The elephant king trumpets,

The lion roars.

A tasteless story

Chokes people’s mouths.

South, north, east, and west—

The crow flies, the rabbit runs.

COMMENTARY: Zhaozhou said, “Someone once asked me this. For five years now, I still have not known how to explain it.” A tasteless story chokes people’s mouths. “South, north, east, and west—the crow flies, the rabbit runs.” If Xuedou had not had this final line, how would we know that Xuedou had arrived here? Since it is already “the crow flies, the rabbit runs,” tell me: in the end, what have Zhaozhou, Xuedou, and this mountain monk become?

CASE FIFTY-NINE

ZHAOZHOU AND “REFRAIN FROM DISCRIMINATION”

INTRODUCTION: Encompassing heaven and covering earth, transcending sages and surpassing the ordinary; atop the hundred blades of grass, revealing the wondrous mind of nirvana; amid the forest of spears and swords, determining the very life of a patch-robed monk. But tell me: possessing such power, what does one attain? Let us bring it forth and see.

POINTER: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination. As soon as there are words, there is discrimination. How does the Venerable help people?” Zhaozhou said, “Why do you not quote the whole saying?” The monk said, “Your disciple remembers only this much.” Zhaozhou said, “It is only ‘The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination.’”

COMMENTARY: Zhaozhou said, “It is only ‘The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination,’” like a spark struck from stone or a flash of lightning. Grasping and releasing, killing and giving life—how free and at ease he was! Everywhere it is said that Zhaozhou possessed extraordinary powers of eloquent debate.

Zhaozhou would ordinarily instruct his assembly with the words, “The Great Way is not difficult, provided one refrains from discrimination. As soon as there are words, there is discrimination. This is manifestly clear.

This old monk does not abide within clarity. Do you still cling to it or not?” At that time, a monk asked, “Since you do not abide within clarity, what is there still to cling to?” 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 within clarity?” Zhaozhou said, “It is enough that you have asked the question. Quickly bow and withdraw.”

Afterward, the monk again aimed at a vulnerable point in Zhaozhou and asked his question in an exceedingly extraordinary manner, yet it was still nothing more than the activity of conceptual mind. Anyone else would surely have been unable to do anything with this monk. Unfortunately for him, Zhaozhou was an adept, so he immediately said, “Why do you not quote the whole saying?” This monk also knew how to turn around and display his mettle, so he said, “Your disciple remembers only this much.” It was as though everything had been arranged beforehand.

Zhaozhou knew how to distinguish dragons from snakes and right from wrong; truly, he possessed the ability of an adept. Zhaozhou plucked out the monk’s eyes without his hand touching the sharp point. Without any need for discrimination, he naturally accorded with it completely.

To say that Zhaozhou spoke is wrong, and to say that Zhaozhou did not speak is also wrong; to say that he both spoke and did not speak is likewise wrong. Zhaozhou was free from the four propositions and cut off the hundred negations. Why is this? If you wish to discuss this matter, it is truly like a spark struck from stone or a flash of lightning. You must open your eyes and look very quickly if you are to see it. If you attempt to debate or hesitate, it will be difficult to avoid losing body and life. Xuedou versified:

VERSE

Water cannot soak it;

Wind cannot enter it.

The tiger strides, the dragon walks;

Ghosts wail, spirits weep.

Who knows the one whose head is three inches long?

Answering without words, he stands on one leg.

COMMENTARY: “Water cannot soak it; wind cannot enter it. The tiger strides, the dragon walks; ghosts wail, spirits weep.” There is nowhere for you to sink your teeth. These four lines praise Zhaozhou’s answer, as though a dragon were flying and a tiger leaping. This monk was thrown into confusion at once. Not only this monk—even ghosts wailed and spirits wept. It was like the wind blowing over grass, causing it to bend down.

Of the final two lines, one may say, “He understood it precisely.” “Who knows the one whose head is three inches long? Answering without words, he stands on one leg.” Have you not heard of a monk who asked an ancient worthy, “What is Buddha?” The ancient worthy said, “A head three inches long and a neck two-tenths of an inch long.” Xuedou draws upon this saying. I do not know whether you understand it, but this mountain monk still does not. In an instant, Xuedou depicted Zhaozhou directly. The real thing is always within: you must look carefully.

CASE SIXTY

YUNMEN’S STAFF

POINTER: Buddhas and sentient beings are originally no different; how could mountains, rivers, and oneself be distinct? Why, then, is there such a division into two? Even if you can turn the pivotal phrase around and cut off words and sentences, merely letting go is still not enough. If you do not let go, this whole heaven and earth is not worth holding on to. Yet where is the place for turning the pivotal phrase around? Try bringing it forth and see.

CASE: Yunmen held out his staff and instructed the assembly, saying, “The staff has transformed into a dragon and swallowed the whole of heaven and earth. Where, then, could the mountains, rivers, and great earth still be?”

COMMENTARY: Consider Yunmen’s words: “The staff has transformed into a dragon and swallowed the whole of heaven and earth. Where, then, could the mountains, rivers, and great earth still be?” If you say they exist, you are blind; if you say they do not exist, you are dead. Do you see the place where Yunmen acts for others? Give me back the staff!

People today do not understand Yunmen’s uniquely revealed point. Instead, they say that Yunmen used form to elucidate mind and relied upon phenomena to expound principle. Shakyamuni Buddha taught the Dharma for forty-nine years; he could hardly have been unaware of this mode of discourse. Why, then, was it still necessary for him to hold up a flower and for Kashyapa to smile? That old fellow went so far as to make matters troublesome by saying, “I possess the treasury of the true Dharma eye, the wondrous mind of nirvana; I now entrust it to Mahakashyapa.” Why was it necessary to transmit the mind-seal separately? Since you are guests within the gate of the Patriarchs, do you understand this separate transmission of the mind-seal?

If there is a single thing in your mind, the mountains, rivers, and great earth immediately appear. If your mind clings to nothing whatsoever, then outside there is not even the slightest thread or hair. What need is there to speak of principle and wisdom, of clearly perceived objects, or of wondrous understanding?

Why is this? Because to understand one is to understand all, and to comprehend one is to comprehend all. Changsha said, “Those who study the Way do not know the Real; they merely concern themselves with recognizing the conscious spirit.

This is the root of birth and death through immeasurable kalpas, yet the deluded call it the original person.” Even if you suddenly shatter the skandhas and dhatus, so that body and mind are one suchness and nothing exists outside the body, you still have not attained it. How much less can there be any question of using form to elucidate mind or relying upon phenomena to expound principle?

An ancient said, “The moment a single speck of dust arises, the entire universe is contained within it.” But tell me: which speck of dust is this? If you know this speck of dust, you know Yunmen’s staff. The instant Yunmen raises his staff, we immediately see our teacher’s wondrous functioning. To speak even thus is already entanglement, to say nothing of its transformation into a dragon. Director Qing said, “Have the five thousand forty-eight scrolls ever said anything?” Whenever Yunmen held out his staff, he raised the whole dynamic and its great function, acting for others with vital immediacy.

Bajiao instructed the assembly, “The nostrils of patch-robed monks are all upon this staff.” Yongjia said, “It is not merely an outward form; it is truly a trace of the Tathagata’s precious staff.” Long ago, in the time of Dipankara Buddha, Shakyamuni Buddha spread out his hair to cover the mud for Dipankara Buddha. Dipankara Buddha said, “A monastery should be built at this place.” A heavenly prince then planted a blade of grass in the ground and said, “The monastery has been built.” Tell me: where did this event take place?

The Patriarch said, “Attain realization at the tip of the staff; undertake responsibility beneath the shout.” But tell me: what is to be undertaken? If someone suddenly asked, “What is the staff?” would you turn a somersault? Would you clap your hands? All such things are merely demonic tricks. Fortunately, none of them amounts to anything. Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

The staff swallows the whole of heaven and earth;

Endless talk of peach blossoms upon the waves.

One whose tail is scorched does not speak of seizing clouds and grasping mist;

Why should one left gasping be frightened out of one’s wits?

It has been brought forth—

Have you heard?

You must be carefree and at ease;

Do not be bewildered and irresolute.

Seventy-two blows still allow leniency;

With one hundred fifty, it is hard to spare you.

The Master suddenly raised his staff and descended from the seat;

The great assembly immediately scattered and fled.

COMMENTARY: Yunmen acts for others indirectly; Xuedou acts for others directly. Therefore Xuedou casts aside the matter of transformation into a dragon as unworthy of mention, leaving only “the staff swallows the whole of heaven and earth.” Xuedou’s intention is simply to prevent everyone from clinging to a one-sided view. Our teacher continues, “Endless talk of peach blossoms upon the waves.” There is no longer any need to transform into a dragon. At Yumen there are three surges of waves. Each year, in the third month, when the peach blossoms open and the waters rise, any fish able to swim upstream and pass beyond the successive waves will transform into a dragon. Xuedou says that even transformation into a dragon would still be nothing but useless talk.

“One whose tail is scorched does not speak of seizing clouds and grasping mist.” When fish pass beyond Yumen, heavenly fire naturally burns their tails; then the fish seize clouds and grasp mist as they depart. Xuedou means that even transformation into a dragon is not a matter of seizing clouds and grasping mist. “Why should one left gasping be frightened out of one’s wits?” The Qingliang Commentary says in its preface, “Even bodhisattvas who have accumulated practices are left gasping at Yumen.” Qingliang means that the realm of the Avatamsaka is not a place attainable by those of slight virtue and slight wisdom.

It is like fish attempting to pass beyond the Dragon Gate: those unable to cross are marked upon the crown of the head and sent back. They then become stranded in pools upon the sandy bank, lying there and gasping for breath. Xuedou means that the fish marked upon the head and driven back are invariably frightened out of their wits.

“It has been brought forth—have you heard?” Xuedou adds another footnote, sweeping everything away for you all at once. Therefore, you must be “carefree and at ease; do not be bewildered and irresolute.” If you continue to be bewildered and irresolute, you lose the staff. “Seventy-two blows still allow leniency; with one hundred fifty, it is hard to spare you.” For your sake, Xuedou has set aside the heavy and followed the light.

An ancient said, “Seventy-two blows become one hundred fifty.” People today misunderstand and concern themselves only with calculating the numbers, saying, “It should be seventy-five blows; why are there only seventy-two?” They do not realize that the ancient’s meaning lies beyond words. Thus it is said, “This matter does not lie within words.” Xuedou cites this matter precisely so that later generations will not distort it.

Even if you are genuinely carefree and at ease, you still deserve to receive seventy-two blows as usual. This is already sparing you quite leniently. If you are not thus, it will be difficult to spare you one hundred fifty blows.

Xuedou had seemingly finished his verse, yet he raised his staff again and enacted it once more. Even so, our teacher was still not a man with blood beneath his skin.

Notes:

[1] “Golden Head” is an allusion to the Buddha.

[2] “Blue-eyed” (bich nhan) is an allusion to Bodhidharma.

[3] For his biography, see also the Jingde Record of the Transmission of the Lamp, by the same translator, forthcoming.

[4] This is an allusion to Bodhidharma.

[5] That is, the precious jewel capable of fulfilling all the devotee’s wishes.

[6] This means that Patriarch Bodhidharma came from India in the West.

[7] “Patch-robed one” means a monk.