佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

CASE SIXTY-ONE

FENGXUE’S SPECK OF DUST

POINTER: Raising the Dharma banner and establishing the essential teaching—this is the ability of a master of the school. To distinguish dragons from snakes and separate black from white requires an adept with true knowledge. At the edge of the sword, one discusses killing and giving life; at the tip of the staff, one distinguishes the pivotal occasion. Let us set this aside for the moment. Say a single phrase upon which all affairs in the universe depend. Let us bring it up.

CASE: Fengxue instructed, “If a single speck of dust is established, the nation flourishes. If a single speck of dust is not established, the nation declines.”

Xuedou raised his staff and said, “Are there still any patch-robed monks who will live and die together?”

COMMENTARY: Fengxue instructed the assembly, “If a single speck of dust is established, the nation flourishes. If a single speck of dust is not established, the nation declines.” Tell me: is establishing a single speck of dust correct, or is not establishing a single speck of dust correct? When you reach this point, the great function must manifest before you. Therefore Fengxue said, “Even if you understand before the case is spoken, you are still trapped within the shell and bewildered within confinement; even if you attain penetrating mastery as soon as you hear a single phrase, you still may not escape the wild interpretations encountered along the way.”

Xuedou was a venerable master in the Linji lineage, employing his own provisions: “If a single speck of dust is established, the nation flourishes—the old country folk knit their brows.” This means that if one wishes to pacify and establish a nation, one must rely upon sagacious ministers and valiant generals. Thereafter, qilins appear and phoenixes soar—these are the auspicious signs of great peace. How could country folk in tiny villages know that such a thing exists?

If a single speck of dust is not established, the nation declines and the wind blows fiercely—why then do the old country folk sing joyfully? It is simply because the nation is declining. In the Caodong school, this is called the turning point: there is neither Buddha nor sentient being, neither right nor wrong, neither good nor bad.

There is not the slightest echo or trace. Thus it is said, “Though gold dust is precious, in the eye it becomes an obstruction.” It is also said, “Gold dust is a cataract in the eye; a jewel sewn into one’s garment is a stain upon the Dharma. Even though one’s spiritual mind is not empty, who are the Buddhas and patriarchs?” Scrutinizing and probing, spiritual powers and wondrous functions—none of these is extraordinary either.

Upon reaching this point, cover your head with your patched robe, and the myriad affairs all cease. At such a time, this mountain monk understands nothing at all. If you still speak of mind, speak of nature, speak of the mysterious, or speak of the wondrous, all of it is useless.

Why? “That household has its own realm of immortals.”

Nanquan instructed the assembly, “The seven hundred eminent monks on Mount Huangmei were all people who understood the Buddhadharma. Therefore, they did not receive the robe and bowl of the Fifth Patriarch. Only the lay practitioner Lu did not understand the Buddhadharma; therefore, he received the robe and bowl of the Fifth Patriarch.” He also said, “The Buddhas of the three times do not know that it exists, yet cats and oxen know that it exists.” The old country folk either knit their brows or sing songs of joy. But tell me: how should this be understood? Tell me, what kind of eyes do they have that they act in this way? You should know that before the doors of the old country folk, there have never been any ordinances.

After presenting both sides, Xuedou again raised his staff and said, “Are there still any patch-robed monks who will live and die together?” If at that time someone had stepped forward and uttered a phrase, joining him as host and guest, Xuedou surely would have been spared from later pointing to his own breast.

VERSE

The old country folk need not raise their brows;

May the nation remain secure and strong.

Where now are sagacious ministers and valiant generals?

For ten thousand miles, the cool breeze knows only itself.

COMMENTARY: Previously, both sides were presented; here, only one side is brought up, while the other is set aside. What is long is shortened, what is short is lengthened; the heavy is abandoned and the light followed. Thus it is said, “The old country folk need not raise their brows.

May the nation always remain secure and strong. Where now are sagacious ministers and valiant generals?” When Xuedou raised his staff and said, “Are there still any patch-robed monks who will live and die together?” it was just as though he had said, “Are there still any sagacious ministers and valiant generals?” In a single gulp, he swallowed everyone whole. Thus it is said that the land is broad and the people few; those one encounters are rare.

Is there anyone who knows him? Step forward here and together choose the same place: “For ten thousand miles, the cool breeze knows only itself.” This is precisely where Xuedou points to his own breast.

CASE SIXTY-TWO

YUNMEN’S JEWEL

POINTER: Relying on wisdom acquired without a teacher, one brings forth wondrous, uncontrived function; relying on compassion without conditions,[1] one becomes an unconditional good friend. Within a single phrase there is killing and giving life; within a single pivotal occasion there is releasing and holding fast. Tell me, has anyone ever attained this? Let us bring it up.

CASE: Yunmen instructed the assembly, “Within heaven and earth, in the midst of the universe, there is a jewel hidden in the mountain of form.[2] Take a paper lantern into the Buddha Hall, and bring the triple gate to place upon the lantern.”

COMMENTARY: Yunmen said, “Within heaven and earth, in the midst of the universe, there is a jewel hidden in the mountain of form.” Tell me: is Yunmen’s meaning at the tip of the fishing rod, or upon the paper lantern? These words are based on a passage by Dharma Master Sengzhao[3] in the Treatise on the Treasure Storehouse. Yunmen cited it to instruct the assembly.

During the Later Qin, Sengzhao wrote treatises in the gardens of Yao Qin. While transcribing the Vimalakirti Sutra,[4] Sengzhao realized that the teachings of Laozi and Zhuangzi had not exhausted the wondrous subtlety. Sengzhao then bowed to Kumarajiva and took him as his teacher.

He also studied with the bodhisattva Buddhabhadra at Waguan Monastery, who had brought the mind seal of the twenty-seventh patriarch from India. Sengzhao attained profound understanding. One day, Sengzhao fell into peril.

When he was about to be executed, he requested a delay of seven days in order to write the Treatise on the Treasure Storehouse.

Yunmen then cited four lines from that treatise to instruct the assembly. Their general meaning is: how could the priceless jewel be concealed within the skandhas and dhatus? The teachings in that treatise accord entirely with the sayings of our school.

Have you not heard that Jingqing asked Caoshan, “What is the principle of ultimate emptiness having no companions?” Caoshan said, “The principle is thus; but what about phenomena?” Jingqing said, “Phenomena and principle are entirely the same.” Caoshan said, “You may be able to deceive this Caoshan, but how could you deceive the eyes of the sages?” Jingqing said, “If there were no eyes of the sages, how could one know that it is not so?” Caoshan said, “According to impartial principle, not even the point of a needle is permitted to pass through; yet according to personal feeling, even carts and horses are allowed to pass.”

Thus it is said, “Within heaven and earth, in the midst of the universe, there is a jewel hidden in the mountain of form.” The general meaning is that everyone possesses it completely, and it is perfect and full in everyone. Yunmen brought it up to instruct the assembly, and his explanation was already perfectly clear; this old teacher cannot go on adding commentaries for you as lecturers do. Yet Yunmen, being compassionate, added a footnote for you: “Take a paper lantern into the Buddha Hall, and bring the triple gate to place upon the lantern.”

Tell me, what did Yunmen mean by speaking in this way? Have you not heard an ancient worthy say, “The true nature of ignorance is Buddha-nature; this illusory, empty body is the Dharma Body.”[5] It is also said, “The ordinary mind is precisely the Buddha-mind.” The “form-mountain” is the four great elements and the five skandhas. “There is a jewel hidden within the form-mountain.” Thus it is said, “The Buddhas dwell within the mind, yet the deluded seek outside.

The priceless jewel lies within, yet all their lives they do not know it.” It is also said, “Buddha-nature is clearly manifest, yet sentient beings,[6] abiding in appearances, find it difficult to see. If one awakens to the selflessness of beings, how could one’s own nature differ from Buddha-nature?[7] The mind is the original mind; the face is the face born of one’s mother. A great rock may readily be moved, but this cannot be altered.”

Some take that luminous, numinous awareness[8] to be this precious jewel, but they have not realized its function or its marvel. Therefore, they cannot set it in motion or open it up. An ancient said, “When one reaches an impasse, there is change; when there is change, there is passage.”

“Taking a paper lantern into the Buddha hall”—if this were an ordinary matter, it could be fathomed. But can “placing the triple gate atop the lantern” be fathomed? In an instant, Yunmen shattered your discriminating consciousness and all notions of gain and loss, right and wrong.

Xuedou said, “I delight in the fresh, lively workings of Shaoyang (Yunmen); throughout his life, he concerned himself solely with pulling out nails and wrenching out pegs for people everywhere.” He also said, “Who knows how many sit upon the high seat,[9] wielding an iron sword that cuts and leaves people wounded?” When Yunmen said, “Taking a paper lantern into the Buddha hall,” this one statement alone was enough to cut off all views and attachments; yet he added, “placing the triple gate atop the lantern.” If you deliberate over this case, it is like a spark struck from flint, like a flash of lightning.

Yunmen said, “If you are determined to go, choose a single road by which to enter. Buddhas as numerous as motes of dust are all beneath your feet. The sacred teachings of the Tripitaka are upon the tips of your tongues.

Yet even this is no match for awakening. Teachers, do not indulge in deluded thinking: heaven is heaven, earth is earth, mountains are mountains, rivers are rivers, monastics are monastics, and laypeople are laypeople.” He then continued, “Bring me the unmoving mountain before your eyes and let me see it.” A monk stepped forward and asked, “What is it like when a student sees mountains as mountains and rivers as rivers?” Yunmen said, “Why does the triple gate begin from here?” Fearing that you might die, Yunmen traced a line with his hand and said, “If you understand, it is the supreme flavor of ghee; if you do not understand, it turns into poison.” Thus it is said, “Understanding, understanding—once understood, there is nothing to understand.

Mystery, mystery—even the mysterious place still deserves a scolding.”

Xuedou raised it again, saying, “Within heaven and earth, in the midst of the universe, there is a jewel hidden in the form-mountain. Hang it on the wall for nine full years, not daring to look directly at it. If patch-robed monks today wish to see it, I will strike them several times across the spine.”[10] Observe how capable masters of the lineage never use the real Dharma to bind people. Xuansha said, “Snares and traps cannot hold it; call to it, and it does not turn its head. Even so, it is still the sacred tortoise dragging its tail.” Xuedou versified:

VERSE

Look! Look!

At the ancient ford, who holds the fishing rod?

Clouds fold upon clouds,

The waters stretch endlessly.

Reed blossoms beneath the moon—see for yourself.

COMMENTARY: If you understand Yunmen’s words, only then will you see how Xuedou acted for the sake of others. He appended a footnote to Yunmen’s final two teachings, saying, “Look! Look!” If you understand this way of glaring and raising the eyebrows, there is nothing remarkable about it. An ancient said, “The numinous light shines alone, transcending sense faculties and objects.[11] Its essence reveals true constancy, unfettered by written words. The three natures are undefiled, originally complete in themselves. Simply part from delusive conditions, and you are the Buddha of suchness.” If you merely sit there stiffly, glaring and raising your eyebrows, how could you transcend the sense faculties and their objects?

Xuedou said, “Look! Look!” Yunmen seems to be holding a fishing rod at the ancient ford, while clouds fold upon clouds and the waters stretch endlessly. The bright moon reflects the reed blossoms, and the reed blossoms reflect the bright moon. At precisely that moment, tell me, what realm is this? If you can see it directly, from beginning to end it is just like a single phrase.

CASE SIXTY-THREE

NANQUAN KILLS THE CAT

POINTER: The place the path of consciousness cannot reach is precisely the place that should be spoken of; the place language cannot describe is precisely where you must quickly direct your gaze. If you are like lightning flashing and stars flying, you can churn the seas and topple mountains. Is there no one in the assembly who can do this? Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: One day at Nanquan’s monastery, the monks of the eastern and western halls were fighting over a cat. Seeing this, Nanquan seized the cat, held it up, and said, “If you can say a word, I will not kill the cat.” No one in the assembly could say anything. Nanquan then cut the cat in two.

COMMENTARY: Observe the movements, stillness, coming, and going of a master of the lineage. Tell me, what was his essential meaning? This story of killing the cat has been fervently discussed in monasteries everywhere. Some say that holding it up was correct; others say that the essential point lies in the cutting. Yet none of this has anything to do with it. Had Nanquan not held up the cat, could everyone have babbled and theorized in this way? They do not realize that this ancient possessed eyes that settled heaven and earth and a sword that settled heaven and earth.

Tell me, in the end, who was it that killed the cat? Just as Nanquan held up the cat and said, “If you can say a word, I will not kill the cat,” if someone had suddenly been able to speak, tell me, would Nanquan still have killed it or not? Thus it is said, “When the true command is carried out, the ten directions are at peace.” Poke your head beyond heaven and earth and see—who is it?

In truth, at that moment Nanquan did not kill at all. This story does not lie in killing or not killing. The matter is already perfectly clear because it is so evident.

It does not belong to the dusts of emotion or conceptual views. If you seek within the dusts of emotion and conceptual views, you will have failed Nanquan. Look directly at the sword-point and blade-edge.

Being is acceptable, and nonbeing is also acceptable; neither being nor nonbeing is also acceptable. Thus an ancient said, “When one reaches an impasse, there is change; when there is change, there is passage.” People today do not know how to change and pass through; they merely bustle about within words and phrases. When Nanquan held up the cat in this way, he did not want people everywhere to say something; he only wanted them to understand thoroughly, for each to make use of it personally and know it personally.

If you do not understand in this way, you will not find it by groping around. Xuedou versified:

VERSE

Both sides were counterfeit Chan followers,

Kicking up dust and sand, gaining nothing.

Fortunately, Nanquan was able to issue the command:

With a single stroke, he cut it in two—let partial views be as they may.

COMMENTARY: “Both sides are sham Chan practitioners.” Xuedou did not die within the phrase, yet our master would not accept being deceived either before the horse or behind it. Xuedou had a place from which to turn matters around, and so he further said, “Stirring up dust and sand, they gained nothing.” Xuedou and Nanquan walk hand in hand; a single phrase expresses it all. The head monks of the two halls had nowhere to rest their heads; they only knew how to stir up dust and sand, yet could accomplish nothing.

Fortunately, Nanquan judged this case for them and settled it neatly. But what could our master do for those who had not returned home in front and had not reached the inn behind? Therefore Xuedou said, “Fortunately, Nanquan issued the command; with one stroke, two pieces—let partial views be as they may.” With one stroke of the blade, Nanquan cut it directly into two pieces, paying no heed to partiality.

But tell me: upon what authority did Nanquan rely?

CASE SIXTY-FOUR

NANQUAN QUESTIONS ZHAOZHOU

POINTER: Nanquan again brought up the foregoing story and questioned Zhaozhou about it. Zhaozhou took off his straw sandals, placed them on his head, and walked away. Nanquan said, “Had you been there, you would surely have saved the cat.”

COMMENTARY: Zhaozhou was indeed Nanquan’s true heir. As soon as Nanquan spoke of the beginning, Zhaozhou understood the end; the moment it was raised, he knew the essential point. That evening, Nanquan again brought up the foregoing story and questioned Zhaozhou about it.

Zhaozhou was a seasoned expert, so he took off his straw sandals, placed them on his head, and walked away. Nanquan said, “Had you been there, you would surely have saved the cat.” But tell me: was this really so? Nanquan had said, “If you can speak, I will not cut it.” It was like a spark struck from flint, like a flash of lightning.

Zhaozhou then took off his straw sandals, placed them on his head, and walked away. Our master delighted in the living phrase, not the dead phrase. Renewed day after day, renewed moment after moment, even a thousand sages could not shift it by so much as a hair.

You must bring forth all the heirlooms of your own house before you can perceive his great function of the great potential. Zhaozhou said, “I am the Dharma King, sovereign and free within the Dharma.”

Many people misunderstand this and say that Zhaozhou provisionally took the straw sandals to represent the cat. Some say Zhaozhou meant, “When you said, ‘If you can speak, I will not cut it,’ I would immediately have placed my straw sandals on my head and walked away. Cutting the cat was your affair; it had nothing to do with me.” Yet explanations of this kind are wholly incorrect; they are nothing but the tricks of ghosts and demons. How could they know that the intention of the ancients was like covering heaven and supporting the earth?

Father and son accorded with one another; their dynamic methods matched. When Nanquan raised the beginning, Zhaozhou immediately understood the end. Students today do not know the turning point of the ancients and merely follow the superficial pathways of discriminating consciousness to speculate. If you wish to see it, simply look at the turning point of Nanquan and Zhaozhou, and it will immediately become clear.

VERSE

The case complete, he questioned Zhaozhou;

Within the city of Chang’an, he roamed at leisure.

Straw sandals on his head—no one understood;

Returning to his native mountain, he then rested.

COMMENTARY: “The case complete, he questioned Zhaozhou.” Storekeeper Qing said, “It was as though someone had adjudicated a case: eight blows were eight blows, and thirteen blows were thirteen blows. Nanquan had, as it were, already judged and settled the matter completely. Yet he still brought it up again to question Zhaozhou.”

Zhaozhou was a member of Nanquan’s household, and therefore understood Nanquan’s essential meaning. He was fundamentally a person who had penetrated through and through; when prompted, he immediately responded and turned the matter around. He possessed the eye and mind of an expert. The moment he heard it raised, he immediately stretched himself and acted. Xuedou said, “Within the city of Chang’an, he roamed at leisure.” There was no small amount of clumsy stumbling here. An ancient said, “Though Chang’an is delightful, it is not a place in which to remain for long.” It was also said, “Chang’an is far too bustling; my homeland is peaceful.” Yet you must understand the proper occasion and distinguish fault from correctness.

“Straw sandals on his head—no one understood.” Placing straw sandals on one’s head is a trifling matter, with nothing particularly remarkable about it. Thus it is said, “Only I can understand it; only I can realize it.” Only then will you perceive the shared attainment and shared function of Nanquan, Zhaozhou, and Xuedou. But tell me: how do you understand it now? “Returning to his native mountain, he then rested.” Where was our master’s native mountain? Had he not understood, he certainly would not have spoken in this way. Since he did understand, tell me: where is the native mountain?

CASE SIXTY-FIVE

A NON-BUDDHIST QUESTIONS THE BUDDHA ABOUT BEING AND NONBEING

INTRODUCTION: Formless in form, filling the ten directions and extending everywhere; responding without mind, pervading land and sea without strain; raise one and understand three, discerning weight and measure at a glance. Even if staffs fell like rain and shouts resounded like thunder, this still would not be worthy of being called following in the footsteps of one who has gone beyond. But tell me: what is the affair of one who has gone beyond? Let us bring it up and see.

POINTER: A non-Buddhist asked the Buddha, “I do not ask about speech; I do not ask about no speech.” The Blessed One remained silent. The non-Buddhist exclaimed in praise, “The Blessed One, in his great loving-kindness and great compassion, has opened the clouds of delusion for me and enabled me to find an entrance into the Way.” After the non-Buddhist had departed, Ananda asked the Buddha, “What did the non-Buddhist realize that he said he had found an entrance?” The Buddha said, “Like a fine horse that begins to run upon merely seeing the shadow of the whip.”

COMMENTARY: If this matter belonged to language, then could the Tripitaka and the twelve divisions of the teachings be called speechless? Some people say that no speech is correct. If so, why did the Patriarch trouble himself to come from India?

And how, ultimately, should the many cases handed down from ancient times to the present be understood? A great many people have interpreted this case through language. Some call it silence, some call it sitting silently, and some call it tacitly giving no reply.

Fortunately, none of this has any relevance. How many have ever managed to grope their way into this case? In truth, this matter is not within language, yet neither is it outside language.

If you merely begin to deliberate over it, you are already thousands upon thousands of miles away. Observe how, after awakening, that non-Buddhist knew that the matter was neither here nor there, neither right nor not right. Tell me: what was it?

Chan Master Tianyi Huai composed a verse:

“Vimalakirti was never silent;
Sitting there debating merely creates error.
A keen sword within its sheath casts a cold gleam;
Non-Buddhists and heavenly demons all fold their hands.”

When Chan Master Chang of Baizhang was studying with Fayan, Fayan instructed him to investigate this saying. One day Fayan asked, “What circumstance are you contemplating?” Master Chang said, “The non-Buddhist questioning the Buddha.” Fayan said, “Try bringing it up for me.” Just as Master Chang was about to open his mouth, Fayan said, “Stop, stop! Are you intending to understand it by relying on silence?” Upon hearing these words, Master Chang suddenly attained great awakening. Later he instructed the assembly, “Baizhang has three essential principles: drinking tea, knowing for yourself, and reflecting. If you still intend to reason or deliberate, you have not yet penetrated through.”

Cuiyan Zhen brought up this case and said, “The six directions and nine realms of existence—blue, yellow, white, and red.”

The non-Buddhist had mastered the four Vedas[12]. Considering himself omniscient, wherever he went he drew people into debate. The non-Buddhist posed his question, intending to leave the Buddha tongue-tied. The Blessed One did not expend the slightest effort, yet the non-Buddhist awakened on his own and praised him, saying, “The Blessed One, in his great loving-kindness and great compassion, has parted the clouds of delusion for me and enabled me to find a place of entry into the Way.” Tell me, where was the Buddha’s great loving-kindness and great compassion? The Blessed One’s single eye penetrated the three realms; the non-Buddhist’s two pupils contemplated the five heavens.

Guishan Zhenru raised this and said, “The non-Buddhist concealed a jewel within his breast; the Blessed One brought it forth for him. The myriad forms stood revealed, and all phenomena were perfectly clear.”

Ultimately, what did the non-Buddhist awaken to? It was like driving a dog against a wall: when it reaches the end, it must turn around and leap. If you would only put aside your calculations of right and wrong for a while and persevere with diligence, you would naturally penetrate it thoroughly.

After the non-Buddhist had departed, Ananda asked the Buddha, “What did the non-Buddhist realize that made him say he had found a place of entry?” The Buddha said, “He was like a fine horse that begins to run at the mere sight of the shadow of the whip.” Later, people everywhere said that the public case had been blown by the wind into something else. They also said it was like having a dragon’s head and a snake’s tail.

Where was the shadow of the Blessed One’s whip? Where did he see the shadow of the whip? Xuedou said, “Unable to distinguish heterodox from orthodox, these words arose from the shadow of the whip.” Zhenru said, “Ananda’s golden bell rang twice, and the four assemblies all heard it.

Even so, it was like two dragons contending for a jewel. It brought that wise man’s dragon to maturity.” Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

The wheel of potential had never turned;

Once it turns, it runs toward both sides.

A bright mirror suddenly rises upon its stand;

At once, beauty and ugliness are distinguished.

Beauty and ugliness distinguished—the dark clouds part;

From where does dust arise within the gate of compassion?

Remember the fine horse that sees the shadow of the whip;

The wind-chasing steed, a thousand miles away, can be called back.

Called back—three times he opens his hand.

COMMENTARY: “The wheel of potential had never turned; once it turns, it runs toward both sides.” “Potential” is the numinous potential of the thousand sages; “wheel” is your lifeline from antiquity to the present. Have you not heard an ancient say, “The numinous potential of the thousand sages permits no approach. Dragons give birth to dragon offspring—do not pry. Zhaozhou seized the priceless jewel; the Lord of Qin and Xiangru both lost their lives.” The non-Buddhist had mastered it and could hold the central position; he had never moved at all. Why? The non-Buddhist said, “I do not ask about that which has words, nor do I ask about that which has no words.” Is this not the place of the total potential?

The Blessed One knew how to observe the wind and hoist the sail, prescribing medicine according to the illness; therefore, he remained silent. When the total potential was brought forth, the non-Buddhist comprehended it completely. The wheel of potential turned smoothly, turning neither toward existence nor toward nonexistence. It did not fall into gain or loss, nor become entangled in ordinary beings and sages; attachment to both extremes was severed at once. As soon as the Blessed One fell silent, the non-Buddhist bowed. Most people today fall either into nonexistence or into existence; they merely bustle about within these two biased attachments to existence and nonexistence.

Xuedou said, “A bright mirror suddenly rises upon its stand; at once, beauty and ugliness are distinguished.” This has never moved at all; it merely rests in stillness like a bright mirror upon its stand, upon which the myriad forms cannot avoid being reflected. The non-Buddhist said, “The Blessed One, in his great loving-kindness and great compassion, has parted the clouds of delusion for me and enabled me to find a place of entry into the Way.” Tell me, where was the non-Buddhist’s place of entry?

Once you arrive here, you must personally investigate and personally save yourself, personally awaken and personally know. Only then, everywhere—whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, without regard to high or low—it is always manifest, without shifting by so much as a hair’s breadth. The moment you attempt to calculate and reason about it, you are fatally obstructed and no longer have any place of entry.

The latter part of the verse takes up, “The Blessed One, in his great loving-kindness and great compassion, has parted the clouds of delusion for me and enabled me to find a place of entry.” Our teacher immediately distinguishes beauty and ugliness. “Beauty and ugliness distinguished—the dark clouds part; from where does dust arise within the gate of compassion?” This entire heaven and earth is the gateway of the Blessed One’s great loving-kindness and great compassion. If you penetrate it, there will no longer be anything worth grasping. This too is a gateway to awakening. Do you not know that the Blessed One contemplated this matter for twenty-one days? “I should not teach the Dharma, but should quickly enter nirvana at once.”

“Remember the fine horse that sees the shadow of the whip; the wind-chasing steed, a thousand miles away, can be called back.” The “wind-chasing horse,” upon merely seeing the shadow of the whip, has already crossed a thousand miles; when called back, it immediately returns. Xuedou, intending to praise him, said, “If one finds a steed of such stock, one need only give it a push and it turns by itself; the moment it is called, it returns. Called back—three times he opens his hand.” Tell me, is this adding the finishing touch, or scattering sand?

CASE SIXTY-SIX

YANTOU AND “WHERE HAVE YOU COME FROM?”

POINTER: Meeting face-to-face and acting directly, bringing forth the potential to set a tiger trap; striking vertically and striking horizontally, displaying strategies for capturing a thief; accord in the light and accord in the dark, releasing and gathering alike, knowing how to handle a venomous snake—all these are the affairs of an adept.

CASE: Yantou asked a monk, “Where have you come from?” The monk said, “From the Western Capital.” Yantou said, “After the Huang Chao rebellion, was the sword recovered?” The monk said, “It was recovered.” Yantou stretched out his neck, stepped forward, and gave a shout. The monk said, “Your head has fallen.” Yantou burst into loud laughter.

Afterward, that monk went to see Xuefeng. Xuefeng asked, “Where have you come from?” The monk said, “From Yantou.” Xuefeng said, “What instruction did Yantou give?” The monk recounted the preceding exchange. Xuefeng struck him thirty blows and drove him out.

COMMENTARY: Anyone who shoulders a bundle, carries a bowl, pulls up the grass, and gazes into the wind must possess the eyes of a pilgrim. This monk’s eyes were like comets, yet Yantou exposed him and pierced him through, stringing him upon a single thread. At that moment, had he been a true stalwart, whether killing or giving life, as soon as the matter was raised he would have seized its point of application.

But this monk was muddleheaded and said, “It was recovered.” If you go on pilgrimage in this manner, King Yama will certainly demand toll money from you. Who knows how many pairs of straw sandals that monk wore out on his way to Xuefeng? If at that time he had possessed even the slightest bit of vision, he would surely have caught a glimpse of it.

Would that not have been delightful?

There is a knot within this encounter. Although this matter admits of neither gain nor loss, the point at which gain and loss arise is extremely consequential. Although there is no calculation, once you reach this place you must possess an eye capable of discernment.

While Longya was on pilgrimage, he posed this question to Deshan: “What if a student, relying upon the Moye Sword, wishes to take your head?” Deshan stretched out his neck, stepped forward, and gave a shout. Longya said, “Your head has fallen.” Deshan then returned to the abbot’s quarters. Later, Longya recounted the exchange to Dongshan.

Dongshan said, “What did Deshan say at that time?” Longya said, “He said nothing at all.” Dongshan said, “Let us set aside for the moment the fact that he said nothing. Show me your teacher’s fallen head lying upon the ground.” Upon hearing these words, Longya attained great awakening. He then lit incense, faced in Deshan’s direction, bowed, and repented.

A monk recounted this to Deshan. Deshan said, “That old fellow Dongshan does not know good from bad. That fellow has been dead for a long time already; what use is there in reviving him?”

This case is also similar to the case of Longya. Deshan returned to the abbot’s quarters; in the darkness, he was most subtle and wondrous. Yantou laughed loudly; there was poison in his laughter.

If anyone can discern it, he may freely range throughout the world. If that monk had discerned it at the time, he would surely have avoided being censured throughout the ages. He had already missed his opportunity while under Yantou.

Look at old Xuefeng: because he had been Yantou’s companion, he immediately knew the essential point. Yet Xuefeng did not explain it clearly to the monk; he merely struck him thirty blows and drove him out. It may be said that there had never been anything like it before, nor would there be afterward.

This is the ability to help people by taking hold of the nostrils of patch-robed monks. He did nothing for them, but merely helped them awaken by themselves.

When the masters of the school help people, sometimes they set traps so that people cannot escape; at other times they leave them to their bewilderment. Yet in the end, they must still find a place from which to emerge. Great as Yantou and Xuefeng were, they were ultimately seen through by this rice-eating student of Zen.

When Yantou said, “After the Huang Chao rebellion, did you still recover the sword?” tell me, how should one have answered here so as not to be laughed at by him? And likewise avoid being thrashed by Xuefeng and driven out? This point is exceedingly obscure if you have never personally realized and awakened to it.

Even if your tongue is quick and clever, ultimately you will still be unable to break free from birth and death. I, this mountain monk, ordinarily advise people to contemplate this pivotal point of transformation. If you attempt to reason about it, how very far away you are!

Have you not heard how Touzi asked a monk from Yanping, “Did you recover the sword?” The monk pointed to the ground with his hand. Touzi said, “For thirty years I have amused myself riding horses, but today I have been kicked by a donkey.” Look at that monk—he truly was an expert. He did not say that it had been recovered, nor did he say that it had not been recovered.

Between him and the monk from the Western Capital lay a whole ocean.

Zhenru brought this up and said, “Among the ancients, one acted as the head and the other as the tail. Certainly so.” Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE

After the Huang Chao rebellion, was the sword ever recovered?

The loud laughter requires an expert to understand.

Thirty mountain-staff blows may still be called light;

To gain an advantage is to lose the advantage.

COMMENTARY: “After the Huang Chao rebellion, was the sword ever recovered? The loud laughter requires an expert to understand.” Xuedou directly versifies the encounter between that monk and Yantou’s loud laughter. No one in the world can get a grasp on even this little bit. Tell me, what was he laughing at? Only an expert can know. Within this laughter are provisional and real, illumination and function, killing and giving life.

“Thirty mountain-staff blows may still be called light” versifies the monk’s arrival before Xuefeng. This monk was still careless and inattentive, so Xuefeng acted according to the imperative, struck him thirty blows, and drove him out. Tell me, why was it so? Do you wish to understand this story completely? “To gain an advantage is to lose the advantage.”

CASE SIXTY-SEVEN

EMPEROR WU OF LIANG INVITES A LECTURE ON A SUTRA

CASE: Emperor Wu of Liang invited Fu Dashi to lecture on the Diamond Sutra. Fu Dashi ascended the seat, struck the lectern once, and then descended from the seat. Emperor Wu was astonished. Zhigong asked, “Does Your Majesty understand?” Emperor Wu said, “I do not understand.” Zhigong said, “The Great Master has finished lecturing on the sutra.”

COMMENTARY: Emperor Gaozu Wu of Liang bore the surname Xiao. His personal name was Yan, and his courtesy name was Shuda. After accomplishing a great enterprise, he succeeded to the throne of the Qi dynasty.

After ascending the throne, he wrote commentaries on the Five Classics to elucidate their meaning. The emperor also practiced the teachings of Laozi with great earnestness and was profoundly filial by nature. One day, he reflected upon the supramundane Dharma as a means of repaying the kindness of his parents.

Therefore, he abandoned the teachings of Laozi and followed Buddhism. Later, he received the Bodhisattva Precepts from Dharma Master Lü Yue. The emperor often personally donned the kāṣāya and lectured on the Sutra of the Prajnaparamita That Emits Light in order to repay his parents’ kindness.

At that time, the Great Master Zhigong manifested supernatural powers and bewildered the populace, and therefore he was imprisoned. Zhigong then divided his body into multiple manifestations and traveled about teaching throughout the towns and cities. One day, Emperor Wu discovered this and was deeply moved, thereafter treating Zhigong with the greatest respect. Zhigong continued to perform transformations, producing manifestations beyond all fathoming.

At that time, there was a great master dwelling on Mount Yunhuang in Wuzhou. With his own hands, he planted two trees and called them the Twin Trees. He styled himself Shanhui, the Great Master of the future. One day, he wrote a letter and instructed a disciple to present it to the emperor. The court would not accept it, considering it deficient in the proper etiquette between sovereign and subject.

When Fu Dashi was about to enter the city of Jinling to sell fish, Emperor Wu invited Zhigong to lecture on the Diamond Sutra. Zhigong said, “This poor monk cannot lecture on it. In the city there is Fu Dashi, who can lecture on this sutra.” Emperor Wu therefore issued an edict summoning Fu Dashi into the imperial palace. When the Great Master arrived, he ascended the lecture seat, struck the lectern once, and descended from the seat. If Emperor Wu had been given a push at that moment, he would surely have avoided an episode of embarrassment. Instead, Zhigong asked him, “Does Your Majesty understand?” Emperor Wu said, “I do not understand.” Zhigong said, “The Great Master has finished lecturing on the sutra.”

Here too, one acted as the head and the other as the tail. Yet in speaking this way, did Zhigong see Fu Dashi, even in a dream? Everyone plays ghostly tricks at times, but this truly was extraordinary.

Though it was a dead snake, one who knew the method could still bring it back to life. Fu Dashi had lectured on the sutra, but why did he not know how to divide it into two aspects, as ordinary lecturing masters commonly say: “The substance of diamond is supremely hard, and nothing can destroy it. Because its function is sharp, it can cut through the myriad things.” An exposition like that is what is called lecturing on a sutra.

Even so, you do not realize that Fu Dashi merely raised the crucial point beyond, revealing its sharp edge so that the whole world could see the essential point. He set it towering directly before your faces like a cliff ten thousand fathoms high. Yet Zhigong, unable to distinguish good from bad, said, “The Great Master has finished lecturing on the sutra.” Truly, his good intentions received no good recompense.

It was like a cup of fine wine diluted with water by Zhigong, or a bowl of delicious soup into which Zhigong dropped mouse droppings.

Tell me, if this was not lecturing on a sutra, then ultimately what should it be called? The verse says:

VERSE

Not resting this body in the Twin Grove,

He became entangled again in the dust of the land of Liang.

Had it not been for Zhigong at that time,

He would have had to leave the kingdom in haste.

COMMENTARY: “Instead of resting his body in the Twin Grove, he became entangled in the dust in the land of Liang.” Mahasattva Fu and that gap-toothed old fellow Bodhidharma encountered Emperor Wu under similar circumstances. When Bodhidharma first arrived in Jinling and met Emperor Wu, the emperor asked, “What is the highest meaning of the holy truths?” Bodhidharma said, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” Emperor Wu said, “Then who is facing Us?” Bodhidharma said, “I do not know.” Emperor Wu failed to accord with him, and so Bodhidharma crossed the river into the land of Wei.

Emperor Wu recounted the exchange to Master Zhi, who asked, “Does Your Majesty now know who that man was?” Emperor Wu said, “I do not know.” Master Zhi said, “He was the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara, transmitting the seal of the Buddha-mind.” Emperor Wu regretted what had happened and sent an emissary after Bodhidharma. Master Zhi said, “Do not say that merely Your Majesty’s emissary could bring him back; even if the entire country went after him, he would not return.” Therefore Xuedou said, “Had it not been for Master Zhi at that time, he would surely have hastily left the country.” At that time, had Master Zhi not exerted himself on behalf of Mahasattva Fu, Fu too would have had to leave the country.

Master Zhi was so talkative that Emperor Wu was also thoroughly deceived by him.

Xuedou’s meaning is that Mahasattva Fu had no need to go to the land of Liang to lecture on the sutra and shake the lectern. Therefore he said, “Why did he not rest his body there in the Twin Grove, eating gruel and rice and passing his days peacefully, instead of coming to this land of Liang, delivering an exposition, shaking the lectern, and then stepping down from the seat?” This is precisely where he became entangled in the dust.

If you desire the supreme Dharma, raise your eyes and gaze into the lofty sky: above, no Buddha is seen; below, no sentient beings are seen. But if you discuss the work of transcending the world, you can hardly avoid soiling your head and face. Taking nonexistence as existence, existence as nonexistence, right as wrong, and coarse as subtle, amid fish markets and wine shops you raise it crosswise and set it upright, causing everyone to understand this matter clearly.

If you do not let go in this way, then even when Maitreya descends to be born, not a single person will understand. Mahasattva Fu dragged himself through mud and wallowed in water; fortunately, there was one who knew the tune. Had it not been for old Master Zhi, he would almost have been driven out of the country.

Tell me: where is he now?

CASE SIXTY-EIGHT

YANGSHAN QUESTIONS SANSHENG

POINTER: Overturning the heavens and shifting the axis of the earth; capturing tigers and rhinoceroses, distinguishing dragons from snakes—only a lively adept can make every phrase accord and every device correspond. Yet from ancient times to the present, who has ever been like this? Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: Yangshan asked Sansheng, “What is your name?” Sansheng said, “Huiji.” Yangshan said, “Huiji is I.” Sansheng said, “My name is Huiran.” Yangshan burst out laughing.

COMMENTARY: Sansheng was a venerable master in the Linji lineage. From an early age, he possessed extraordinary ability. He was endowed with great capacity and great function; when among the assembly, he was imposing and illustrious, and his fame resounded everywhere.

Later, he bade farewell to Linji and traveled throughout Huainan and Haizhou. Monasteries everywhere received Sansheng as an honored guest. Traveling from north to south, Sansheng first went to see Xuefeng and asked, “The golden fish has escaped the net; what does it use for food?” Xuefeng said, “When you have escaped the net, I will tell you.” Sansheng said, “You are the spiritual teacher of fifteen hundred people, yet you cannot utter even a single phrase.” Xuefeng said, “This old monk’s duties as abbot are exceedingly burdensome.” Once, as Xuefeng and Sansheng were walking toward the monastery estate, they encountered a troop of monkeys along the road.

Xuefeng said, “Each one carries an ancient mirror.” Sansheng said, “For countless kalpas it has had no name; why call it an ancient mirror?” Xuefeng said, “A flaw has already appeared.” Sansheng said, “You are the spiritual teacher of fifteen hundred people, yet you cannot utter even a single phrase.” Xuefeng said, “It is truly my fault; this old monk’s duties as abbot are exceedingly burdensome.”

Later Sansheng went to see Yangshan. Yangshan greatly admired Sansheng’s keen agility and therefore gave him the seat of honor. One day, an official came to visit Yangshan. Yangshan said, “What office do you hold?” The official said, “I am a judge.” Yangshan raised his whisk and said, “Can you judge this?” The official was unable to say anything. Everyone in the assembly offered comments, but none accorded with Yangshan’s intent. At that time Sansheng was ill and lying in the Hall for Prolonging Life. Yangshan sent an attendant to relate the exchange and ask Sansheng about it. Sansheng said, “The abbot has a case.” Yangshan again sent the attendant to ask, “It is not yet clear what the case is.” Sansheng said, “A second offense will not be pardoned.” Yangshan was greatly pleased.

Baizhang had passed on the meditation board and sitting mat to Huangbo, and the staff and whisk to Guishan; Guishan later passed them on to Yangshan. Yangshan held Sansheng in very high regard. One day, when Sansheng came to take his leave, Yangshan brought out the staff and whisk to pass them on to Sansheng. Sansheng said, “This humble one already has a teacher.” When Yangshan inquired further, he learned that Sansheng was a disciple of Linji.

When Yangshan asked Sansheng, “What is your name?” it could not possibly have been that Yangshan did not know Sansheng’s name. Why, then, did he still ask in this manner? It was because adepts wish to test people everywhere and discern them clearly.

The question sounded merely casual: “What is your name?” It was asked without any calculation at all. Why did Sansheng not say “Huiran,” but instead say “Huiji”? See how those who have eyes are naturally unlike ordinary people.

Sansheng’s conduct as a teacher was in no way inverted, even though he seized the banner and stole the drum. His intent lay beyond Yangshan’s words. These words do not follow ordinary sentiments and are extremely difficult to fathom.

This man’s method could bring people everywhere back to life; therefore it is said, “He investigated the living phrase, not the dead phrase.” If one followed ordinary sentiments, one would certainly never let people everywhere sit at ease.

See how the ancients kept the Way in mind. They devoted their entire spirit to it, and thus attained great awakening. After awakening, when they put it into function, they were exactly as though they had never awakened. In any event, not even one phrase or half a sentence of theirs followed ordinary sentiments. Sansheng knew Yangshan’s essential point, and so he said to him, “My name is Huiji.” Yangshan wanted to take Sansheng in, but in the end Sansheng instead tested Yangshan. Yangshan could only counter by saying, “Huiji is I.” This is precisely where he let go. Therefore Xuedou later said, “Now gathering in, now letting go—what is the essential principle?” In this single line, he simultaneously finished his verse on the whole matter.

Yangshan burst into laughter: “Ha, ha!” There was both the provisional and the real, both illumination and function. Because he was radiant in all eight directions, his standpoint possessed such great freedom. This laughter was unlike Yantou’s laughter: Yantou’s laughter contained poison, whereas in this laughter a bitterly cold wind has blown throughout the ages. Xuedou’s verse says:

VERSE:

Now gathering in, now letting go—where lies the essential principle?

To ride the tiger, one must possess consummate skill.

Having laughed, he knows not where he has gone;

It merely stirs a mournful wind throughout the ages.

COMMENTARY: “Now gathering in, now letting go—where lies the essential principle?” Letting go, they alternately played the roles of host and guest. Yangshan asked, “What is your name?” Sansheng said, “My name is Huiji.” This was letting go on both sides. Yangshan said, “Huiji is my name.” Sansheng said, “My name is Huiran.” This was gathering in on both sides. In truth, this is what is called “the mechanism of calling and responding.” When gathering in, everyone gathers in; when letting go, everyone lets go. Xuedou versified it all at once. His meaning is that if there is neither letting go nor gathering in, and no mutual interchange, then you are you and I am I.

Everything lies within these four words, so why is there such alternation between sinking and emerging, coiling and unfolding? An ancient said, “If you stand, I sit; if you sit, I stand. If we both sit and stand together, then we are both blind men.” This is gathering in on both sides and letting go on both sides; it may be regarded as the essential principle. “To ride the tiger, one must possess consummate skill.” If you possess such lofty bearing and such supreme adaptability, then when you wish to mount, you mount, and when you wish to dismount, you dismount. You may sit upon the tiger’s head or upon its tail, as you please. Both Sansheng and Yangshan possessed this style.

“Having laughed, he knows not where he has gone.” Tell me, what was he laughing at? It was like a piercingly cold wind. Why, in the end, did Xuedou say, “It merely stirs a mournful wind throughout the ages”? This too is a death for which there is no funeral. In a flash, he has annotated everything for you. Yet no one in the whole world can bite into it, because they do not understand Yangshan’s essential point. Even I, this mountain monk, do not know it. Do you know?

CASE SIXTY-NINE

NANQUAN PAYS HOMAGE TO THE NATIONAL TEACHER

POINTER: There is nowhere to sink one’s teeth: the ancestral mind-seal is shaped like the mechanism of an iron ox. Passing through a forest of thorns, the patch-robed monk is like a snowflake upon a blazing furnace. For the moment, set aside boring and chiseling on level ground. What is it like when one does not fall into tangled circumstances? Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Nanquan, Guizong, and Magu were traveling together to pay homage to the National Teacher. Halfway there, Nanquan drew a circle on the ground and said, “If you can speak, we shall continue on.” Guizong sat down inside the circle. Magu made a woman’s curtsy. Nanquan said, “If it is like this, then we shall not go.” Guizong said, “What kind of mental activity is that?”

COMMENTARY: At that time, Mazu’s teaching activity was flourishing in Jiangxi, Shitou’s teaching was being widely proclaimed in Huxiang, and the National Teacher’s teaching was flourishing in Chang’an. The National Teacher had personally met the Sixth Patriarch. At that time, there was no one in the south who did not wish to ascend the hall and enter the chamber at the National Teacher’s place; failing to do so would bring disgrace before the people of the world.

These three old fellows wanted to go pay homage to the National Teacher, yet halfway there they put on this dispirited performance. Nanquan said, “If it is like this, then we shall not go.” If everyone had already spoken successfully, why did he say they would not go? If everyone had already spoken successfully, why did he say they would not go?

Tell me, what was the meaning of this ancient? When he said, “If it is like this, then we shall not go,” you should immediately have slapped him across the face. What trick could he have played then?

From ancient times until now, upholding the school has depended only upon such trifles. Therefore, Ciming said, “If you wish to control it, you must firmly grasp the reins.” When pushed, it rolls around like a gourd upon the water. Many people say that Nanquan’s words were a rejection, not realizing that once this matter reaches the ultimate point, one must leave mud and water behind, pull out the pegs, and wrench out the nails.

If you try to understand it through mental activity, you will have no connection with it at all. The ancients turned things around with great skill; once they reached this point, they could not do otherwise. There must be killing and giving life.

Look at them: one sat down inside the circle, while another made a woman’s curtsy. That too was exceedingly fine. Nanquan said, “If it is like this, then we shall not go.” Guizong said, “What kind of mental activity is that?” In the end, this muddle-headed fellow was only thus.

Guizong’s intention was to test Nanquan. Nanquan often said, “As soon as you call it ‘suchness,’ it has already changed.” Nanquan, Guizong, and Magu were ultimately people of the same household: one gathering in, one letting go; one killing, one giving life. Truly extraordinary.

VERSE:

Yi the Archer shoots the monkey;

How direct the circling tree!

Among thousands and tens of thousands,

Who has ever hit the mark?

Calling to one another, they return together;

On the road to Caoxi, they halt their steps.

Again, he said, “The road to Caoxi is level. Why do they halt their steps?”

COMMENTARY: “Yang Youji shoots the monkey; the arrow circles the tree—how utterly direct!” Youji was a man of Chu. His surname was Yang, his given name Shu, and his style name was Youji. Once, King Zhuang of Chu went hunting and saw a white monkey.

He ordered someone to shoot it. The monkey caught the arrow and played with it. King Zhuang then ordered his ministers to shoot, but none could hit it.

King Zhuang therefore questioned his ministers, and they reported, “Only Youji is a skilled archer.” King Zhuang then ordered Youji to shoot. As soon as Youji drew his bow, the monkey clung to the tree trunk and cried out piteously. When the arrow was released, the monkey ran around the tree to evade it.

The arrow likewise flew around the tree, struck the monkey, and killed it. This was truly a divine arrow. Why, then, does Xuedou call it utterly direct?

If the arrow had flown in a circle, surely it would not have struck the monkey. Yet the arrow flew around the tree—why does Xuedou call it utterly direct? Xuedou borrowed this idea and employed it with consummate skill.

This story is recorded in the Spring and Autumn Annals. Some say that circling the tree refers to a circular trajectory. To understand it this way is truly to fail to understand the essential purport of the words or where their directness lies.

The three old fellows took different roads but returned to the same destination; all were equally direct. If you know how to let them pass, then even though they range freely in every direction, they never depart by so much as an inch. A hundred rivers flow separately, yet all empty into the great ocean.

Therefore Nanquan said, “If that is so, I shall not go.” If you look with the true eye of a patch-robed monk, this is merely a demonic trick; yet as soon as you call it a demonic trick, it is no longer a demonic trick. Wuzu said, “Those three were the Samadhi of the Torch of Wisdom and the Samadhi of the King of Adornments.” Although Magu bowed in the manner of a woman, he did not understand it as bowing in the manner of a woman.

Although Nanquan drew a circle, he never regarded it as drawing a circle. If it is not to be understood this way, how should it be understood? Xuedou said, “Among thousands and tens of thousands, who has ever hit the mark?” How many can hit the mark with every shot?

“Calling to one another, let us return.” This eulogizes Nanquan’s words, “If that is so, I shall not go.” From that point on, Nanquan did not go; therefore it is said, “On the road to Caoxi, his footsteps halted.” He had broken through the entire forest of thorns. Xuedou could not hold firm, so he continued, “The road to Caoxi is level; why halt your footsteps?” The road to Caoxi is cut off from dust and traces, plainly revealed, level, and serene. Why halt your footsteps? Each of you should examine your own steps.

CASE SEVENTY

GUISHAN STANDS IN ATTENDANCE UPON BAIZHANG

POINTER: For an astute person, one word; for a swift horse, one stroke of the whip. Ten thousand years in a single thought, a single thought in ten thousand years. If you wish to understand directly, do so before it is brought forth. Tell me: before it is brought forth, how should one grope for it? Let us bring it forth and see.

CASE: Guishan, Wufeng, and Yunyan were standing together in attendance upon Baizhang. Baizhang asked Guishan, “Without throat, mouth, or lips, how would you speak?” Guishan said, “Please, Master, speak instead.” Baizhang said, “I would not mind speaking for you, but I fear that afterward I would put all my descendants to death.”

COMMENTARY: Guishan, Wufeng, and Yunyan were standing together in attendance upon Baizhang. Baizhang asked Guishan, “Without throat, mouth, or lips, how would you speak?” Guishan said, “Please, Master, speak instead.” Baizhang said, “I would not mind speaking for you, but I fear that afterward I would put all my descendants to death.” Although Baizhang acted in this way, his position had already been seized by another. Baizhang next asked Wufeng. Wufeng said, “Master, you too should be silent.” Baizhang said, “Where no one is present, I shall cover my face with my hand and look at you.” Baizhang next asked Yunyan. Yunyan said, “Master, do you yet have a way to speak?” Baizhang said, “I have put all my descendants to death.” Each of these three was a master in his own right.

An ancient said, “On level ground, countless people perish; one who passes through the forest of thorns is truly an adept.” Therefore, the masters of our school used a forest of thorns to test others. Why? Because how could one test others by relying on ordinary words and conventional sentiments? A patch-robed monk must know how to reveal the workings of the essential impulse within a phrase and discern the meaning within words. As for those who carry a board on one shoulder, they merely become entangled in words and say, “If there is no throat, mouth, or lips, there is no way to speak.” For one who has penetrated and can discern, like a wave surging against the current, there is only one path through the question. Such a person does not lay a hand upon the sharp point.

Guishan said, “Please, Master, speak instead.” Tell me, what was his meaning? Guishan was like a spark struck from flint, like a flash of lightning: as soon as he encountered Baizhang’s question, he answered immediately. He had a path by which to emerge and did not expend the slightest effort.

Therefore it is said, “He sought a living phrase, not a dead phrase.” Baizhang did not bother attending to Guishan and merely said, “I would not mind speaking for you, but I fear that afterward I would put all my descendants to death.” The ancestral masters always helped others pull out nails and wrench free pegs. People nowadays say that Baizhang’s reply meant he did not accept Guishan and did not understand Guishan’s words.

Little do they realize that within this case there is a path that reveals the lively workings of the essential impulse, like a cliff ten thousand fathoms high, with host and guest interacting in an utterly vital manner.

Xuedou delighted in the tone of Guishan’s words, which possessed fluid freedom while retaining a firm point of departure; therefore he eulogized:

VERSE

Please, Master, speak instead;

A tiger’s head grows horns in the wild grass.

Throughout the ten continents, spring ends and flowers fall;

The sun blazes over the coral forest.

COMMENTARY: The responses of these three men were all different. One was like a cliff ten thousand fathoms high; one simultaneously possessed illumination and function; one could not save himself. “Please, Master, speak instead.” Within this very phrase, Xuedou had already revealed his own essential impulse. He then gently advanced another step to make it easier for others to see, adding, “A tiger’s head grows horns in the wild grass.” Guishan’s answer was like setting horns upon a tiger’s head—how could anyone approach it?

Have you not heard that a monk asked Luoshan, “What is it like to be born together but not die together?” Luoshan said, “It is like an ox without horns.” The monk asked, “Then what is it like to be born together and die together?” Luoshan said, “It is like a tiger that has grown horns.”

With but a single sentence, Xuedou completes the entire verse. Our master possessed more than enough talent for transformation, and so he said, “In the ten continents, spring wanes and the radiant flowers fall. Upon the sea are three mountains; in the ten continents, a hundred years constitute a single spring. Xuedou’s words are subtle, flowing, and all-pervasive. In springtime, the blossoms of hundreds of thousands of myriad trees all fall at once; only the coral forest does not wither, but reflects its radiance together with the morning sun. At precisely that moment, how truly extraordinary it is! Xuedou used this image to elucidate Guishan’s words: “Please allow the Venerable One to say so.”

Notes:

[1] “Objectless compassion” is the loftiest kind of compassion, one that only bodhisattvas are able to practice. It is a form of “unconditional” compassion attained only after a bodhisattva has realized “emptiness” and no longer perceives any distinction between oneself and all sentient beings. In Mahayana Buddhism (the Yogacara school), this is called the realization of the “Wisdom of Equality” (samatā-jñāna).

[2] “Form” means “outward appearance.”

[3] That is, Sengzhao.

[4] The Vimalakirti Sutra (Vimalakīrti-nirdeśa-sūtra), one of the most important sutras of Mahayana Buddhism.

[5] Quoted from Yongjia Xuanjue’s Song of Enlightenment.

[6] “Sentient being” (sattva) means a living being.

[7] The original text uses the character “face.” In this case, “face” alludes to the “original face”; therefore, we use the word “nature.”

[8] This implies that the originally pure and luminous mind is precisely Buddha-nature.

[9] That is, to sit upon the master’s seat.

[10] These words are quoted from Xuedou’s Later Record.

[11] The faculties are the five faculties: eyes, ears, nose, tongue, and body. Their objects are the objects apprehended by these five faculties.

[12] The Vedas are the principal scriptures of Hinduism. The four Vedas are the Rig-Veda, Atharva-Veda, Yajur-Veda, and Sama-Veda.