佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

PREFACE I

The lifeline of the supreme sages, the great function of the successive Patriarchs, the fine medicine that transforms the bones, and the wondrous art that nourishes the spirit—only Chan Master Xuedou possessed the true eye that transcends schools and surpasses conventions. He upheld the true command without displaying rules or models; wielding the vajra hammer, he smelted Buddhas and forged Patriarchs, and in verse revealed the upward-pointing nostrils of Chan practitioners. Silver mountains and iron cliffs—who dares drill into or polish them? A mosquito biting an iron ox finds nowhere to insert its beak. Without encountering a skilled craftsman, how could one penetrate their profound subtlety?

In the land of Yue there was the Old Man Foguo. While residing at Blue Cliff, when students failed to understand and came to inquire, the Old Man compassionately disclosed the profound source, analyzed the deep principle, raised it up and pointed directly, without establishing views or knowledge. He threaded the hundred cases together from beginning to end into a single whole, and the elders examined them all in sequence.

One should therefore know that the jade disk of Zhao was originally flawless; it was Xiangru who deceived the king of Qin. The ultimate Way is truly without words, yet the masters of the school compassionately sought to remedy the prevailing ills. If one sees it thus, only then can one fully appreciate their grandmotherly kindness.

But if one clings to phrases and becomes trapped in words, one will still be unable to avoid extinguishing the lineage of the Buddhas. Puzhao was fortunate to attend upon the Master at his knee and hear what he had never heard before. Fellow practitioners gathered the work together and made a concise edition, and I have used my clumsy words to compose this final preface.

At that time, in the Wushen year of the Jianyan era, on the thirtieth day at the end of spring, the disciple and student, Bhikshu Puzhao, respectfully composed this preface.

PREFACE II

Only after the Sutra in Forty-Two Sections was transmitted to China did people there come to know of the Buddha. Only after Patriarch Bodhidharma and down to the Sixth Patriarch transmitted the robe did sayings and phrases arise. The words “Originally, there is not a single thing” belong to the Southern School; the words “At all times, diligently wipe it clean” belong to the Northern School.

Once the Chan school existed, eulogies on the ancient cases began circulating throughout the world. Its followers had a way of overturning tables, disparaging Buddhas, and rebuking Patriarchs—there was nothing they would not do. Among them were some who attained the living method of our school of poetry, yet it had already been said, “What need has the ultimate truth for sayings and phrases?” Xuedou and Yuanwu showed earnest grandmotherly kindness, while Dahui consumed it all with a single torch.

At Yuzhong, Zhang Wei, styled Mingyuan, gathered together the pile of cold ashes and reprinted it for circulation. This too may rightly be called earnest grandmotherly kindness.

In the fourth year of the Dade era (1300), the Gengzi year, on the eighth day of the fourth month, the Guichou day, Fang Hui of Ziyang, styled Wanli, composed this preface.

PREFACE III

The Blue Cliff Record was composed by Chan Master Yuanwu and completely burned by his great disciple, Chan Master Dahui. All worldly dharmas shun attachment. Among those whom disciples of the Buddha revere, none equals the Buddha, yet even the Buddha must sometimes be rebuked. This is because one has oneself but not the other, and proceeds from oneself rather than from the other. To abandon oneself and follow things is necessarily to lose oneself.

Fundamentally, mind and the Way are one, and the Way and the myriad things are one. It fills the vast emptiness; what could there be that is not the Way? Ordinary people looking upon it tend to see what is seen but fail to see what is not seen. They seek it from others, and others speak of it to them—like Dongpo’s analogy of the sun [Su Dongpo said: It is like a person with diseased eyes who seeks a physician to cure them and make them bright. The physician says: I have only medicine to cure diseased eyes; I have no medicine to make eyes bright. If the eyes could be made bright, they would again have to become dark. (Transmission of the Evidence of Wisdom, vol. 1, p. 341)]. The more they search back and forth, the farther away they stray and the more they lose it.

Our Master Confucius, embodying the Way, still wished to remain silent; how much more so the Buddha’s teaching, which is a supramundane Dharma—how could it be sought through written characters and spoken words? Nevertheless, these cannot be discarded, because the wise are few and the foolish many; those who have studied are few and those who have not studied are many. The Buddhist canon, comprising more than five thousand fascicles, was established entirely for those who came afterward. If words could simply be forgotten, the old man Shakyamuni should have kept his mouth shut; why, then, did he speak so profusely?

The principle under heaven remains within the ordinary, yet transcends ordinary forms. Although it appears easy to understand, in truth it is not easy to understand; without instruction from another, one might pass an entire lifetime without understanding it. Those ancients who became renowned throughout the world were, if not heroes among a thousand, certainly outstanding figures among ten thousand.

The sword Tai’e is among the sharpest blades under heaven: carried into the mountains, it can kill tigers; taken into the sea, it can slay dragons. Everyone in the world knows this, and that is indeed so. Yet the ancients had a skillful way of using it: relying upon the city walls in battle and brandishing it with the wind.

All three armies would thereby suffer a crushing defeat, and blood would flow red for a thousand leagues. How could such power not come from the capability of a single person? What room, then, is there for doubt?

Ever since I heard that this book existed, I have sought it most earnestly. The Zhang family of Yuzhong recently recut the woodblocks and invited me to write a preface. I accordingly helped bring the undertaking to completion and also inscribed these words at its beginning.

In the ninth year of the Dade era (1306), the Yisi year, on an auspicious day of the third month, the Layman Xiuxiu of Yucen, Zhou Chi of Liaocheng, wrote this at the Guanqiao lodging house by the Qiantang River.

PREFACE IV

Question: Between the person who compiled the Blue Cliff Record and the person who destroyed it, who was right?

Answer: Both were right. Patriarch Bodhidharma came to China and separately transmitted the mind-seal, establishing no reliance on written words; yet treatises such as Bloodstream and Returning to Emptiness appeared—who, in fact, composed them? An ancient said, “It does not lie in written words, yet it does not depart from written words.” These are the words of one who truly knew.

People were enabled to illuminate the great matter through rolling up a blind (Rolling up a blind: Changqing Huileng), hearing a board struck, raising a finger (Juzhi), striking a heel, and so forth—what written words were involved in any of these? From the time the flower was held aloft and a subtle smile appeared, down to the falling of the banner before the gate, only afterward did the teaching become attached to sayings and phrases.

Yet without written words there would be no means of propagating it; thus they cannot be discarded.

It is commonly said that the books of the Chan school are called gong’ans. They arose in the Tang dynasty, flourished in the Song dynasty, and have continued to the present day. In secular law, these two characters referred to an official writ of summons. Their function is threefold:

a. After one has succeeded in facing the wall and completed the work of pilgrimage, the balance-weight standard is difficult to discern, while it is easy to fall into the ways of wild foxes. Those who possess the eye therefore examine and test with a rebuke or a shout, intending to reveal the truth—like an experienced magistrate deciding guilt according to the case, discerning the true circumstances without overlooking even a hair’s breadth.

b. Having only just returned from south of the Ling Mountains, before even drinking the water of Jiangxi, one may easily weep along the branching paths where the sheep was lost. The compass needle upon the mariner’s plate points south. Out of compassion, masters guide people with a blow of the staff or a slap, intending to bring about realization—like the Minister of Justice enforcing the law: those without guilt are released, while those who are guilty are punished.

c. Having eaten a great deal of the seedlings and grain, one may nevertheless be tethered too tightly to the donkey-hitching post. The resolve to study the Changes must be steadfast, yet silk is easily distressed by the color in which it is dyed. Great spiritual friends therefore entrust the teaching, following the deadened mind upon the meditation

cushion; with each movement and each inquiry, they act like officials issuing ordinances, enabling readers to know the law so that, the moment an evil thought arises, they may turn it back into quiescent extinction.

Setting forth prescriptions, establishing gong’ans, displaying pivotal circumstances, and formulating rules and commands—how, in the beginning, were these any different from such secular legal works as the Golden Statutes, the Jade Ordinances, the Clarification of Justice, and Facing the Sovereign?

The purpose for which the patriarchs established public cases and transmitted them throughout the monasteries was precisely this. For in the latter age of the Dharma, people seek the wondrous mind on paper used to wipe sores, entrust the True Dharma to mouths engaged in discussion, and, though they check off every ghost and spirit, never depart from the ledger. Leaning against another’s gate, they call themselves masters; though the sword has long since fallen into the water, they still mark the boat; though the hare has already escaped, they do not leave the tree stump.

Their bellies are full of tangled vines, and they are skilled at asking for turning words, yet they have no involvement in the great matter of birth and death. When the bell rings and the water has run dry, what will they employ? Alas!

How could the horn-grown antelope be sought everywhere by means of appearances? Would one skilled in learning from Liu Xia Hui merely step when he stepped and run when he ran? Knowing this, the minds of both old men must be acknowledged as right.

Yuanwu’s heart was excessively tender toward his children and grandchildren, so he added remarks to Xuedou’s verses. Dahui’s resolve to rescue those being burned and save those drowning was exceedingly strong, so he burned the Blue Cliff Collection entirely. After Śākyamuni had expounded the Great Canon, he finally said, “I have not spoken a single word.” Could he have deceived us?

Yuanwu’s mind was the Buddha’s mind when expounding the scriptures. Dahui’s mind was the Buddha’s mind when sweeping away verbal teachings. When Yan of Wuling moved their positions, it was likewise so: pushing here and shoving there solely to make the cart move.

More than two hundred years have now passed, and at Yongzhong, Zhang Mingyuan has again carved printing blocks to circulate this book. Is this the ancestral teaching returning with the spring? Or does the world have its destined cycles?

Yet the circulation of this book is truly a matter of profound importance. If one sees a body of water and takes it for the sea, or mistakes the pointing finger for the moon, not only would Master Dahui be concerned; Yuanwu, too, would remove the seals and untie the bonds for such people. An ancient wrote a poem upon a portrait:

“Plainly there on paper is Young Master Zhang;
Though one calls with all one’s strength and a mighty voice, he does not respond.”

If you wish to read this book, you must first investigate these words.

Recorded by the Old Man of the Three Teachings in the fourth month of the fifteenth year of the Dade era (1312), the cyclical year Jiachen.

CASE 1: THE ULTIMATE MEANING OF THE HOLY TRUTHS

INTRODUCTION: Seeing smoke beyond a mountain, one immediately knows there is fire; seeing horns beyond a wall, one immediately knows there is an ox. To raise one and understand three, to tell the weight at a glance—these are ordinary matters of food and drink in the house of Chan. But as for cutting off all streams, rising in the East and sinking in the West, moving freely across and along, with and against, releasing and grasping—at precisely such a time, tell me: whose place of activity is this? Let us see Xuedou’s tangled vines.

PUBLIC CASE: Emperor Wu of Liang asked the Great Master Bodhidharma, “What is the ultimate meaning of the holy truths?” Bodhidharma replied, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” The emperor asked, “Who is it that stands before me?” Bodhidharma replied, “I do not know.” The emperor did not accord with this. Bodhidharma then crossed the river and went to Wei. Later, the emperor related this matter to the Venerable Zhigong.

Zhigong said, “Does Your Majesty know who this man is?” The emperor said, “I do not know.” Zhigong said, “This is the Great Being Avalokiteśvara, transmitting the Buddha-mind seal.” The emperor regretted what had happened and sent an envoy to invite Bodhidharma back. Zhigong said, “Not only will Your Majesty be unable to bring him back by sending an envoy; even if everyone in the entire country went to invite him, he would not return.”

EXPLANATION: The Patriarch Bodhidharma, discerning from afar that this land possessed the capacity for the Mahayana, crossed the sea and came here. He transmitted the mind seal alone, stripping away layer upon layer of delusion. He established no reliance upon written words, but directly pointed to the human mind so that one might see one’s nature and become a Buddha.

If you can see in this way, you will have a measure of freedom, will not be turned around by any words or phrases, and will manifest it wholly and directly. Then you will naturally be able to perceive it in Emperor Wu’s final exchange and in the place where the Second Patriarch’s mind was pacified. Without the slightest discriminating defilement, cut everything through with a single stroke and be at ease and free.

What need is there to distinguish right from wrong or debate gain and loss? Although it is so, how many people can truly attain this?

Emperor Wu often donned the kāṣāya and lectured on the Radiant Prajnaparamita Sutra, eliciting heavenly flowers that fell in profusion and causing the earth to turn to gold. He manifested the Way and served the Buddha, issuing decrees throughout the realm to build monasteries and ordain Sangha members, and practicing according to the scriptures. People of the age called him the “Buddha-Minded Son of Heaven.” When the Patriarch Bodhidharma first met Emperor Wu, the emperor asked, “I have built monasteries and ordained Sangha members.

What merit is there in this?” Bodhidharma replied, “No merit.” This was like dashing a ladle of cold water in his face. If you penetrate this phrase “no merit,” I will say that you have seen the Patriarch Bodhidharma. Tell me, why was there absolutely no merit in building monasteries and ordaining Sangha members?

Where does the meaning lie?

Emperor Wu, together with Dharma Master Lou Yue, Mahāsattva Fu, and Crown Prince Zhaoming, had discussed the ultimate truth and conventional truth. According to the scriptures, the ultimate truth clarifies that things are not existent, while the conventional truth clarifies that they are not nonexistent; the nonduality of the ultimate and the conventional is the ultimate meaning of the holy truths. This is the supremely wondrous and utterly profound point of the doctrinal teaching.

The emperor took this ultimate principle and asked the Patriarch Bodhidharma, “What is the ultimate meaning of the holy truths?” The Patriarch Bodhidharma replied, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” Chan monks everywhere cannot leap clear of this point. The Patriarch Bodhidharma cut everything away for him with a single stroke. Nowadays, some people misunderstand and instead play with their spirits; they glare wide-eyed and say, “Vast emptiness, nothing holy.” Laughable!

It has nothing to do with the matter.

My late teacher, the Fifth Patriarch Fayan, said, “As for the single phrase ‘Vast emptiness, nothing holy,’ if a person penetrates it, he returns home and sits in peace. As for those of the highest rank, let them make tangled vines of it; there is no harm in letting them smash the lacquer bucket.” The Patriarch Bodhidharma was truly extraordinary. If one investigates and penetrates a single phrase, then a thousand phrases and ten thousand phrases are penetrated simultaneously; naturally one can sit firmly beyond all severance and grasp it with certainty.

An ancient said, “Even bones shattered and flesh crushed would not suffice to repay it; fully comprehending one phrase surpasses ten billion.” The Patriarch Bodhidharma struck him directly on the head with a single blow, yet already there had been no small amount of trouble. The emperor did not awaken and, still clinging to person and self, asked again, “Who is it that stands before me?” The Patriarch Bodhidharma was exceedingly compassionate and said to him once more, “I do not know.” At once Emperor Wu was dumbfounded, not knowing where to settle.

What sort of utterance was this? When one arrives here, bringing either something or nothing will not do.

The Venerable Yiduan composed a verse:

VERSE: One ordinary arrow brings down one eagle;

Then one more arrow is added, revealing a loyal heart.

Straightway he returns to sit before the peak of Shaoshi;

Lord of Liang, speak no more of summoning him back.

TRANSLATION: One ordinary arrow brings one down;

Another arrow shows his loyal heart.

Straight to Shaoshi, he sits upon the peak;

Lord of Liang, cease gazing after him in hope.

Again he said, “Who is gazing after him in hope?” The emperor did not understand, and Bodhidharma quietly left the country. This old fellow could only be bewildered. Bodhidharma crossed the river and went to the state of Wei. At that time Emperor Xiaoming was reigning. He belonged to a northern people surnamed Tuoba, whose realm only later came to be called China. When the Patriarch Bodhidharma reached this country, he did not seek an audience with the emperor but went directly to Shaolin, where he sat facing a wall for nine years. He received the Second Patriarch, and in this land he came to be called the Wall-Gazing Brahmin.

Later, Emperor Wu asked Zhigong about the matter. Zhigong said, “Does Your Majesty know this man?” The emperor replied, “I do not know.” Is this statement the same as or different from the Patriarch Bodhidharma’s “I do not know”? It is similar indeed, yet it is not the same.

Many people misunderstand and say, “Earlier, Bodhidharma’s answer to him was Chan; later, Emperor Wu’s answer ‘I do not know’ to Zhigong meant that they did not know one another.” In truth, this has nothing to do with it. At the very moment Zhigong asked in this way, tell me, how should the emperor have answered? Why did Zhigong not simply strike him dead with one blow, sparing us this sight of smearing paste and daubing clay?

Emperor Wu again answered him, “I do not know.” Zhigong, encountering the occasion when he had to act, immediately said, “This is the Great Being Avalokiteśvara, transmitting the Buddha-mind seal.” Emperor Wu regretted what had happened and sent an envoy to invite him back. Truly shameless! At the very moment Zhigong said, “This is the Great Being Avalokiteśvara, transmitting the Buddha-mind seal,” he too should have been driven out of the country; only then would there still have been a little room for comparison.

According to tradition, Venerable Chí Công passed away in the thirteenth year of the Thiên Giám era (514), while Patriarch Bodhidharma came to China in the first year of the Phổ Thông era (520), seven years later. Why, then, is it said that they met at the same time? This must surely be an error.

We shall follow what is recorded in the account and not debate the matter here; it is enough simply to understand the general import. Moreover, if Bodhidharma is Avalokitesvara and Chí Công is Avalokitesvara, then who is the real Avalokitesvara? Since they are both Avalokitesvara, how can there be two?

Not only are there two, but they appear in groups and companies. During the Later Wei dynasty, Vinaya Master Quang Thống and Tripitaka Master Bodhiruci engaged Patriarch Bodhidharma in debate. The Patriarch refuted appearances and pointed directly to mind.

Because their capacities were narrow and they could not accept this themselves, they conceived thoughts of harming him and repeatedly administered poison. On the sixth occasion, because his conditions for transforming beings had come to an end and he had found someone to whom he could transmit the Dharma, he had no need to save himself. The Patriarch sat upright and passed away, and was interred in a stupa on Mount Hùng Nhĩ at Định Lâm Monastery.

During the Later Wei dynasty, Tống Vân, while traveling as an envoy, met the Patriarch at the Thông Lãnh mountain range, carrying a single sandal in his hand as he returned westward. Emperor Wu, recalling this, personally composed an inscription: “Alas! Seeing him, I did not see him; being near him, I was not near him; meeting him, I did not meet him.

Whether now or in ancient times—resentment and regret!” He further praised him:

“While the mind is existent,
For many kalpas one bears the body of an ordinary being;
When the mind is nonexistent,
In a single instant one ascends to Wondrous Awakening.”

Tell me, where is Bodhidharma now? You let him slip past without even knowing it.

VERSE:

Thánh đế khoách nhiên

Hà đương biện đích.

Đối trẫm giả thùy ?

Hoàn vân bất thức.

Nhân tự ám độ giang

Khởi miễn sanh kinh cức.

Hạp quốc nhân truy bất tái lai

Thiên cổ vạn cổ không tương ức.

Hưu tương ức

Thanh phong táp địa hữu hà cực.

TRANSLATION:

The holy truth is vast and empty—

How could one discern the mark?

“Who is it before me?”

Again he said, “I do not know.”

Because of this, he secretly crossed the river;

How could he avoid bringing forth thorns and brambles?

Though all the people of the nation pursued him, he did not return;

For thousands and tens of thousands of ages, they remember him in vain.

Cease remembering him!

The pure wind sweeps across the earth—where could it ever end?

The Master looked to his left and right and said, “Is there a Patriarch here?” He answered himself, “There is. Call him over to wash this old monk’s feet.”

EXPLANATION OF THE VERSE: Xuedou’s verse on this koan is like a skilled swordsman wielding the Tai’a sword, flourishing it through the vast empty sky without touching its keen edge. If one lacks such skill, the moment one grasps it, one touches the blade and cuts one’s hand. A clear-eyed person sees the Master bring forth and draw back, praise and censure; using only four lines, he fully decides this single koan.

Generally, verses on the ancients are merely “speaking of Zen along a winding road,” while raising the essentials of the ancients is simply “settling the case according to the facts.” For their sake, Xuedou drags it out and strikes them directly on the head, saying: “The holy truth is vast and empty—how could one discern the mark?” Xuedou’s placing of this line at the very beginning is truly extraordinary. Tell me, ultimately, how can the mark be discerned?

Even with iron eyes and bronze pupils, you could not search it out. At this point, can it be fathomed by discriminating consciousness? Hence Yunmen said, “Like sparks struck from flint, like a flash of lightning.” This does not fall within mental contrivance, conceptual consciousness, emotion, or thought.

If it waited for you to open your mouth, what use would that be? The moment comparison arises, the falcon has already flown to Silla. Xuedou is saying: “Zen monks everywhere, how will you discern the mark?” After “Who is it before me?” he immediately adds, “Again he said, ‘I do not know.’” Here Xuedou, out of the utmost compassion, repeats it for people.

Now tell me: are “vast and empty” and “I do not know” of one kind or two? Those who have awakened understand without its being said; those who have not awakened will certainly regard them as two. Ordinary teachers everywhere say that Xuedou points it out once again.

Little do they know that these four lines of verse have already exhausted the koan. Afterward, out of compassion, he versifies the events: “Because of this, he secretly crossed the river; how could he avoid bringing forth thorns and brambles?” Patriarch Bodhidharma came to this land to loosen what was bound and release what was tied, to pull out nails and draw out pegs, and to clear away thorns and brambles. Why, then, does it say that he “brought forth thorns and brambles”?

Not only did the people of that time sink into them; even today people’s heels remain several fathoms deep in them. “Though all the people of the nation pursued him, he did not return; for thousands and tens of thousands of ages, they remember him in vain”—this is utterly lacking in the spirit of a great man. Tell me, where is Bodhidharma?

If you see Bodhidharma, you see Xuedou’s ultimate place of helping people. Xuedou feared that people would follow their emotional views, so he completely drew out the door bar and presented his own understanding, saying: “Cease remembering him! The pure wind sweeps across the earth—where could it ever end?” Since you have ceased remembering him, what is the matter beneath your own heels?

Xuedou says that right now the pure wind sweeps everywhere; throughout heaven and earth, where is it lacking? Xuedou takes the affairs of a thousand antiquities and ten thousand ages and casts them before your face. Not only was it lacking nowhere in Xuedou’s time—on your own part as well, where is it lacking?

The Master also feared that people would cling to this, so he again established an expedient means and loudly said, “Is there a Patriarch here?” He answered himself, “There is.” Here Xuedou does not hesitate to reveal, piece by piece, his sincere heart for people. Then he himself says, “Call him over to wash this old monk’s feet,” utterly diminishing that man’s majestic radiance. At that moment, he fully performed his proper function.

Try to say: where does Xuedou’s meaning lie? At this point, should you call him a donkey, a horse, or the Patriarch? What name and form does he have?

People commonly say, “Xuedou orders the Patriarch about.” Laughable! That has nothing to do with it. Tell me, what is it ultimately?

It may be shown only to the old barbarian, but the old barbarian must not be allowed to understand it.

CASE 2: ZHAOZHOU—THE ULTIMATE WAY IS NOT DIFFICULT

INTRODUCTION: Heaven and earth are constricted; the sun, moon, and stars all grow dark at once. Even if blows of the staff fall like rain and shouts resound like thunder, they still cannot undertake the matter beyond in the vehicle of the Zen school. Even the Buddhas of the three times can only know it for themselves; the successive generations of Patriarchs cannot all raise it together; the entire Tripitaka cannot explain or comment upon it; and clear-eyed Zen monks cannot save themselves.

When you arrive here, how will you inquire about it? To utter the single word “Buddha” is already to be smeared with mud and drenched with water; to utter the single word “Zen” is already to have a face filled with shame. Superior persons who have practiced for a long time do not wait for words and explanations, but beginners among later students must investigate it.

KOAN: Zhaozhou instructed the assembly: “The Ultimate Way is not difficult; it only abhors choosing and rejecting. As soon as there are words and speech, there is choosing and rejecting, or there is clarity. This old monk does not abide within clarity. Do you still cherish and preserve it?”

A monk asked, “Since you do not abide within clarity, what is there to cherish and preserve?”

Zhaozhou said, “I do not know either.”

The monk asked, “Since the Venerable does not know, why do you say that you do not abide within clarity?”

Zhaozhou said, “It is enough that you have asked about the matter. Bow and withdraw.”

EXPLANATION: The Venerable Zhaozhou ordinarily raised this critical phrase, focusing solely on “only avoid picking and choosing.” Here, the Third Patriarch’s Inscription on Faith in Mind says: “The Supreme Way is not difficult; it only avoids picking and choosing. Simply do not love or hate, and all will be perfectly clear.” As soon as there is right and wrong, there is picking and choosing, and there is clarity. To understand it in that way is already to have gone astray.

What use is there in scrutinizing and fastening things together? Zhaozhou said that picking and choosing is clarity. People today who investigate Chan and inquire into the Way either sit within picking and choosing or sit within clarity.

“This old monk does not abide within clarity. Do you still cherish and preserve it or not?” Since he did not abide within clarity, tell me, where was Zhaozhou? Why did he nevertheless tell people to cherish and preserve it?

My late master Wuzu often said: “I extend my hand beyond you; how will you understand?” Tell me, what is the place where the hand is extended? Understand the intention at the tip of the hook; do not take the balance weight as a fixed standard. This monk’s question was truly extraordinary.

He seized Zhaozhou in emptiness and immediately struck him: “Since you do not abide within clarity, what is there to cherish and preserve?” Zhaozhou did not use the staff or the shout; he merely said, “I too do not know.” Had it not been this old fellow, when struck by the monk he would at once have forgotten what came before and lost what followed. But because the old man had a place where he could freely turn himself about, he was able to answer in this way.

When Chan monks today are questioned, they too say, “I do not know; I do not understand,” but this is traveling the same road by a different path. This monk possessed something extraordinary, and so he knew to ask: “Since the Venerable does not know, why do you say that you do not abide within clarity?” Once again, he skillfully dealt him a blow. Anyone else would have lost track of the beginning and end, but Zhaozhou was an adept; he merely told him: “You have finished asking about the matter.

Bow and withdraw.” As before, the monk could do nothing with the old man and could only swallow his breath and remain silent. This is a great master of the foremost school: he does not allow you to discuss the profound, the wondrous, the functioning, or the objective realm, but consistently receives people through the fundamental matter. Thus it is said that he brings abuse to stop your mouth and brings spittle to splash water on you.

How could you not know that throughout his life this old man did not receive people with the staff or the shout? He used only ordinary speech, yet no one could do anything with him. Because throughout his life he had no multitude of calculations, he could grasp sideways and employ upside down, acting in accord or acting contrary, with great freedom.

People today do not understand this; they merely say that Zhaozhou did not answer the question and did not speak for the sake of others. Thus they go astray before their very eyes.

VERSE: The Supreme Way is not difficult

Words are right, phrases are right

One has many kinds

Two has no two divisions

At heaven’s edge, the sun rises and the moon descends

Before the balustrade, the mountains are deep and the waters cold

When consciousness is exhausted in the skull, where can joy stand?

The dragon’s chant in the withered tree—the chains are not yet ended.

Difficult, difficult!

Picking and choosing, clarity—you yourself must see.

TRANSLATION: The Supreme Way is not difficult

Words are right, phrases are right

One has many kinds

Two has no two divisions

At heaven’s edge, the sun rises and the moon descends

Before the balustrade, the waters are cold and the mountains deep

When consciousness is exhausted in the skull, where can joy stand?

The withered tree raises music; the chains of linked rings are not yet ended

Difficult, difficult!

Picking and choosing, clarity—you yourself must see.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou knew where the old man’s words came down, and so he versified, “The Supreme Way is not difficult,” immediately following it with, “Words are right, phrases are right.” Raise one corner and the other three corners follow. Xuedou said: “One has many kinds; two has no two divisions.” This is like the three corners returning to the one corner. Tell me, where is the place where “words are right, phrases are right”?

Why does one have many kinds, while two has no two divisions? Without a bright eye, where could you seek it? If you penetrate these two lines, then, as the ancients said, all has become a single whole.

As before, seeing a mountain is seeing a mountain; seeing water is seeing water; long is long, short is short, heaven is heaven, and earth is earth. At times heaven is called earth; at times earth is called heaven; at times a mountain is called not a mountain, and water not water. Ultimately, how can one attain a place of peace and stability?

When the wind comes, the trees move; when waves arise, the boat rides high. In spring things are born, in summer they grow, in autumn they are gathered, and in winter they are stored. With a single kind of mind—peaceful, still, silent, and utterly quiescent—these four lines of verse are marvelous.

Xuedou possessed talent in abundance, and so he analyzed, forged, calculated, and brought it all out. Yet this is only placing another head atop one’s head when he says: “The Supreme Way is not difficult; words are right, phrases are right; one has many kinds; two has no two divisions.” Though there is not much involved, at heaven’s edge, when the sun rises, the moon sets; before the balustrade, when the mountains are deep, the waters are cold.

When one reaches within this, the words are right and the phrases are right; each and every thing is the Way, and every object is wholly true. Is this not the place where both mind and objects are forgotten and all becomes a single whole? In the first part, Xuedou crowns the solitary peak; in the latter part, he reveals quite a bit of his tail.

If one investigates and penetrates it, sees it and comprehends it thoroughly, it naturally resembles the finest ghee. If one’s emotional interpretations have not yet been forgotten, one immediately sees it shattered into seven flowers and eight fragments and will certainly be unable to comprehend words such as these.

As for the lines, “When consciousness is exhausted in the skull, where can joy stand? The withered tree raises music; the chains are not yet ended,” these only make the interchange even clearer: the monk asked in this way, and Zhaozhou answered in that way. Zhaozhou said: “The Supreme Way is not difficult; it only avoids picking and choosing.

As soon as there are words, there is picking and choosing, and there is clarity. This old monk does not abide within clarity. Do you still cherish and preserve it or not?” A monk came forward and asked: “Since you do not abide within clarity, what is there to cherish and preserve?” Zhaozhou replied: “I too do not know.” The monk said: “Since the Venerable does not know, why do you say that you do not abide within clarity?” Zhaozhou said: “You have finished asking about the matter.

Bow and withdraw.” This is a public case of an ancient inquiring into the Way. Xuedou drew it out, strung it together, and versified: “The Supreme Way is not difficult; it only avoids picking and choosing.” People today do not understand the intention of the ancients; they concern themselves only with swallowing words and chewing phrases. When will they ever attain awakening?

Only an adept who has mastered every direction can discern this manner of speaking. Have you not seen how a monk asked Xiangyan: “What is the Way?” Xiangyan replied: “Music arises within the withered tree.” The monk asked: “What is the person within the Way?” Xiangyan replied: “The eyeball within the skull.” Later,

the monk went to ask Shishuang: “What is the music that arises within the withered tree?” Shishuang replied: “It is still obstructed by joy.” The monk asked: “What is the eyeball within the skull?” Shishuang replied: “It is still obstructed by consciousness.” The monk then went to ask Caoshan: “What is the music that arises within the withered tree?” Caoshan replied: “The lifeblood is not cut off.” The monk asked: “What is the eyeball within the skull?” Caoshan replied: “The dryness is not complete.” The monk asked: “Who can hear it?” Caoshan replied: “Everyone throughout the great earth hears it.” The monk asked: “It is not yet clear to me—what kind of phrase is the dragon’s chant?” Caoshan replied: “I do not know what kind of phrase it is,

but all who hear it lose their lives.” There is also a verse that says:

VERSE: The dragon’s chant in the withered tree truly reveals the Way

The skull is without consciousness; the eye first becomes bright

When joy and consciousness are exhausted, all news is exhausted

How could people of the world discern the clear within the turbid?

TRANSLATION: The withered tree raises music—truly seeing the Way

The skull is without consciousness; the eye has just become bright

When joy and consciousness are exhausted, all tidings are exhausted

How could people of the world discern the clear within the turbid?

Xuedou was indeed a great master. In a single stroke, he versified the entire interchange for you. Nevertheless, though it is so, ultimately there are not two kinds.

At the very end, Xuedou had something further to say for people: “Difficult, difficult.” Even these two words, “difficult, difficult,” must be penetrated before one can succeed. Why? Baizhang said: “All words and speech, mountains, rivers, and the great earth—each and every one must be turned back toward oneself.” Xuedou lets out and draws back; in the end, one must return to oneself.

Tell me, where is the place where Xuedou acts for people? “Clearly discern and choose; you yourself must see.” Since this is already making entangling vines, why, after composing the verse, does he again say, “You yourself must see”? Skillfully setting it forth, he teaches you to see for yourself.

Try to say: where does the meaning come down? Do not say that everyone else is unable to understand it. Even if this mountain monk were to arrive there, I too would simply be unable to understand it.

CASE 3: MAZU’S SUN-FACE BUDDHA, MOON-FACE BUDDHA

POINTER: With one device, one object, one word, or one phrase, one still hopes to find a place of entry. To gouge wounds, nests, and caves into sound flesh—when the great function appears before you, there are no longer any rules. Yet one still hopes to know that there is a matter beyond. It covers heaven and covers earth, yet search for it and it cannot be found. “Thus” is acceptable, and “not thus” is also acceptable—how very small! “Thus” is unacceptable, and “not thus” is also unacceptable—how exceedingly lofty! Without being caught on either side, what would be right? I ask you to consider the following.

PUBLIC CASE: Mazu was ill. The temple superintendent came to inquire after him and asked, “How has the Venerable’s health been lately?” Mazu replied, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha.”

COMMENTARY: Mazu was ill. The temple superintendent came to inquire after him and asked, “How has the Venerable’s health been lately?” Mazu replied, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha.” If the ancestral teachers did not meet one another through the fundamental matter, how could this Way shine forth? If you know where this public case comes down, you walk alone through empty space.

If you do not know where it comes down, though you often see the withered tree before the mountain, you are still lost on the road. A true teacher of the fundamental school must have a method upon arriving here: he must steal the plowman’s ox and snatch away the hungry man’s food. Only then can one see where Mazu acted for people.

Nowadays many say that Mazu was receiving the temple superintendent—laughably irrelevant. Most people in the assembly today misunderstand it; glaring, they say, “The left eye is the sun, and the right eye is the moon.” Does that have even the slightest relevance? Even in the year of the donkey they will not have dreamed of it; they merely misrepresent the ancient’s affair.

When Mazu spoke in this way, where was his intent? Someone says, “Pour him a cup of medicine for his stomachache.” What nostrils does such a person have? Upon arriving here, how can one attain peace and stability?

Thus it is said: the path beyond was not transmitted by the thousand sages; students toil over it like monkeys grasping at reflections. This one phrase, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha,” is exceedingly difficult to perceive. Even Xuedou found it difficult to versify here.

Yet because he saw through it, the Master poured into it all the effort of his entire life. Do you wish to see Xuedou? Look at the text below:

VERSE: Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha

What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns? (The Five Emperors: Taihao, the Yellow Emperor, Shennong, Shaohao, and Zhuanxu; or Fuxi, Shennong, the Yellow Emperor, Tang Yao, and Yu Shun. The Three Sovereigns: the Sovereign of Heaven, the Sovereign of Earth, and the Sovereign of Humanity.)

For twenty years I have endured bitter hardship

For your sake, how many times have I descended into the blue dragon’s cave?

Bent down—worthy of recounting

Clear-eyed patch-robed monks, do not take it lightly.

TRANSLATION: Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha

What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns?

For twenty years I have endured bitterness

For your sake, how many times have I descended into the dragon’s cave?

Bent down—willingly spoken

Clear-eyed Chan monks, do not take it lightly.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: During the reign of Emperor Shenzong of the Song dynasty, he himself maintained that this verse satirized the state, and therefore would not permit it to be included in the Buddhist canon. Xuedou first raised the words, “Sun-Face Buddha, Moon-Face Buddha,” and then said:

“What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns?” Tell me, what was Xuedou’s meaning? In truth, he has already said it. Immediately thereafter he reveals the reason: casting a line into the four seas, he fishes only for a great dragon.

This one line has already made it clear. In what follows, Xuedou himself versifies the reason for the effort he devoted throughout his life to inquiry and investigation: “For twenty years I have endured bitter hardship; for your sake, how many times have I descended into the dragon’s cave?” What is this like? It is like someone entering a dragon’s cave to take the pearl.

Afterward he smashes apart the lacquer bucket. Would you then say there is anything particularly extraordinary? From beginning to end, only the line “What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns?” is needed.

Tell me, where do Xuedou’s words come down? You must step back and look for yourself; only then will you see where the Master comes down.

Have you not seen how Xingyang Pou’s attendant answered when Lord Yuanlu asked, “When the dragon Tajie emerges from the sea, heaven and earth tremble. What is it like when one meets face-to-face and presents the matter?” Xingyang Pou replied, “The golden-winged king of birds overawes the universe. Who here is one who will show his head?” Lord Yuan asked, “What if you suddenly meet one who shows his head?” Pou replied, “It is like a hawk seizing a turtledove.

If you do not believe it, examine it before the skull, and only then will you know the truth.” Lord Yuan said, “If so, I bow my body and bare my breast, withdrawing three steps.” Pou replied, “A black tortoise hides beneath the seat of Mount Sumeru. Do not wait until your head is struck before retreating.” This is the reason for the line, “What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns?” Most people do not see Xuedou’s intent; they merely understand it as satirizing the state.

If one understands it that way, it is only an emotional interpretation.

Chan Master Guanyue, in a poem entitled “The Young Nobleman’s Conduct,” said: “In fresh brocade robes, hawk in hand, he strolls idly, his bearing all the more at ease. What does he know of the hardships of harvesting grain? What are the Five Emperors and Three Sovereigns?” Xuedou said: “Bent down—willingly spoken; clear-eyed Chan monks, do not take it lightly.” Most people seek a livelihood within the great dragon’s cave. Even if you have an eye atop your crown and a numinous talisman in your hand, and though a clear-eyed Chan monk illumines all under the four heavens, upon arriving here you still must not take it lightly. You must be thoroughly mature.

CASE 4: DESHAN CARRIES HIS BUNDLE INTO THE INTERVIEW

POINTER: Beneath the blue sky and bright sun, you must not point east and draw west. When the time and conditions are appropriate, medicine must be given according to the illness. Tell me: is letting go better, or is holding fast better? Consider the following.

PUBLIC CASE: Deshan came to Guishan. Carrying his bundle into the Dharma hall, he walked from east to west, then from west to east. Looking around, he said, “Nothing!

Nothing!” and immediately went out. Xuedou’s preceding remark: “The examination is finished.” (Yuanwu: “Wrong! Just as expected!

Mark it!”) When Deshan reached the gate, he said again, “Still, I must not be careless.” He then composed himself with full dignity and went back in for an interview. Guishan sat motionless. Deshan raised his sitting cloth and said, “Venerable!” Guishan was about to take hold of his whisk.

Deshan immediately shouted, shook out his sleeves, and went out. Xuedou’s preceding remark: “The examination is finished.” (Yuanwu: “Wrong! Just as expected!

Mark it!”) Turning his back on the Dharma hall, Deshan put on his straw sandals and departed. That evening, Guishan asked the head monk, “Where is the newcomer who came earlier?” The head monk replied, “At that time, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and went out.” Guishan said, “In the future, this fellow will go to the summit of a solitary peak, build a grass hut, and revile the Buddha and curse the patriarchs.” Xuedou’s preceding remark: “Adding frost atop snow.” (Yuanwu: “Wrong!

Just as expected! Mark it!”)

EXPLANATION: Jiashan (Yuanwu) appended the three words “seen through.” Do you understand them? Sometimes a single blade of grass is taken and made into a sixteen-foot golden body; sometimes the sixteen-foot golden body is taken and made into a single blade of grass. In former times, Deshan was a lecturer in Western Shu who expounded the Diamond Sutra.

The sutra says: “In the Adamantine-Simile Samadhi within subsequently attained wisdom, one must spend a thousand kalpas learning the Buddha’s dignified conduct and ten thousand kalpas learning the Buddha’s subtle practices; only afterward does one attain Buddhahood.” Yet those southern demons—the Chan masters—said, “This very mind is Buddha.” Enraged, he shouldered his copy of the Diamond Sutra with its commentary and subcommentary and set out on pilgrimage, going straight south to destroy the band of demons.

Seeing how his wrath arose, one can tell that he too was a keen and formidable man. At first he reached Lizhou. On the road he encountered an old woman selling cakes, so he set down his load of scriptures and sought to buy cakes for a light refreshment.

The old woman asked, “What is in that bundle?” Deshan replied, “The Diamond Sutra with its commentary and subcommentary.” The old woman said, “I have a question. If you can answer it, I shall offer you cakes for refreshment. If you cannot answer, please go elsewhere to buy them.” Deshan said, “Ask.” She asked, “The Diamond Sutra says, ‘Past mind cannot be apprehended, present mind cannot be apprehended, and future mind cannot be apprehended.’ Venerable, with which mind do you intend to take refreshment?” Deshan was struck dumb.

She then directed him to seek instruction from Longtan. As soon as he reached the gate, Deshan said, “I have long heard the name Longtan, Dragon Pool, but now that I have come here, no pool is seen and no dragon appears.” Longtan came out from within and said, “You have personally arrived at Dragon Pool.” Deshan bowed and withdrew. One night, Deshan entered Longtan’s room and stood in attendance.

When the night had grown late, Longtan said, “Why do you not go down?” Deshan bowed his head, raised the curtain, and stepped outside. Seeing that it was pitch-dark, he returned and said, “It is pitch-dark outside.” Longtan lit a candle and handed it to Deshan. Just as Deshan took it, Longtan immediately blew it out.

Deshan suddenly attained great awakening and bowed. Longtan asked, “What have you seen that makes you bow?” Deshan replied, “From this day forward, I shall no longer doubt the tongues of the venerable masters.” The next day, Longtan ascended the Dharma hall and said, “There is a man here whose teeth are like a forest of swords and whose mouth resembles a bowl of blood. Strike him once with a staff and he will not turn his head.

One day he will ascend the summit of a solitary peak and establish my Way there.” Deshan then brought his commentary and subcommentary before the Dharma hall, kindled a fire, and burned them, saying, “To exhaust all abstruse arguments is like casting a single hair into empty space; to reach the utmost ingenuity of the world is like letting one drop of water fall into a vast lake.” The master then burned them completely.

Later, hearing that Guishan’s teaching was flourishing, Deshan went straight to Guishan—an adept meeting an adept. Upon arriving, he did not even remove his bundle but went directly into the Dharma hall. He walked from east to west and from west to east, looked around, and said, “Nothing!

Nothing!” Then he immediately walked out. Tell me, where did his intent lie? Was he mad?

Many people mistakenly understand this as an act of establishment, but that has nothing whatsoever to do with it. Observe him like this—he was indeed extraordinary. Therefore it is said: To stand out from the multitude, one must be an outstanding spirit; the one who vanquishes his opponent is truly a lion cub.

Even if the Buddha himself lacked such an eye, passing through a thousand years would be of no avail. At this point, only an adept who penetrates in every direction can see it. Why?

The Buddhadharma does not involve many things; why carry so many emotional interpretations wherever you go? It is because people’s minds are tangled that they give rise to so many kinds of wearisome toil. Therefore Xuansha said, “It is like the moon’s reflection beneath an autumn pool, or the sound of a bell in the still night: whenever it is struck, it responds without deficiency; though it touches the waves, it does not disperse.

Yet this is still an affair on the shore of birth and death.” At this point, there is neither gain nor loss, neither right nor wrong, nor anything extraordinary, mysterious, or wondrous. Since there is nothing extraordinary, mysterious, or wondrous, how are you to understand his walking from east to west and from west to east? Tell me, what was his intent?

Old Guishan paid him no heed. Had it been anyone other than Guishan, he would certainly have been broken by Deshan. See how that old adept Guishan, when they met, simply sat and watched success or failure.

Had he not thoroughly understood the wind as it came, how could he have acted so? Xuedou appended the words: “Seen through!” It is truly like an iron stake. In the assembly, this is called an appended phrase—a summing-up word.

Although it concerns both sides, it does not remain on either side. Xuedou said, “Seen through!” How is this to be understood? Where is the point that was seen through?

Tell me: did he see through Deshan, or did he see through Guishan? Deshan went straight out to the gate, but then sought to uproot the matter completely. He said to himself, “I must not be careless.

I must reveal my heart, liver, and five viscera to Guishan and engage him in a full Dharma battle.” He then composed his bearing and returned to meet him. Guishan sat motionless. Deshan raised his sitting mat and said, “Venerable!” Guishan was about to take up his whisk when Deshan immediately shouted, brushed out his sleeves, and departed.

Truly extraordinary! Most people in the assembly say that Guishan was afraid of Deshan, but what relevance does that have? Guishan was not in the least hurried.

Thus it is said: When one’s wisdom surpasses that of birds, one can capture birds; when one’s wisdom surpasses that of beasts, one can capture beasts; when one’s wisdom surpasses that of people, one can capture people. One who has penetrated this kind of Chan would pay no heed even if the entire great earth, with all its myriad phenomena—heaven, hell, grasses, trees, humans, and animals—simultaneously gave a shout. He would overturn the Chan seat and shout the entire assembly into dispersal without a backward glance, as lofty as heaven and as solid as earth.

Had Guishan not possessed the means to sit there and cut off the tongues of everyone under heaven, it would have been very difficult to test Deshan at that moment. Had Guishan not been the spiritual teacher of fifteen hundred people, it would also have been difficult for him to discern matters clearly at this point. Guishan was one who, sitting within the curtained chamber and devising his strategy, could defeat an enemy a thousand miles away.

Deshan turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and immediately departed. Tell me, what was his intent? Would you say Deshan won or lost?

In acting as he did, did Guishan win or lose? Xuedou appended the words: “Seen through!” Only because he had applied himself and thoroughly perceived the ancient masters’ most profound and ultimate point could he possess such extraordinary ability. Natang said, “Xuedou placed two ‘seen throughs,’ dividing the case into three sections and judging each one, and only then did the case become clear.

It is like a bystander judging two people in combat.” Not until late afternoon did Guishan leisurely ask the head monk, “Where is the newcomer who was here a while ago?” The head monk replied, “At that time, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed.” Guishan said, “In the future, this man will ascend the summit of a solitary peak, build himself a grass hermitage, revile the Buddha, and denounce the patriarchs.” Tell me, what was Guishan’s intent in pointing him out this way?

Old Guishan was not well-intentioned. Later, Deshan reviled the Buddha, denounced the patriarchs, and stirred up wind and rain; yet, just as before, he never escaped Guishan’s lair, for this old man had thoroughly seen every detail of his life. At this point, can it be said that Guishan bestowed a prediction upon him?

Can it be said that a great marsh contains a mountain, or that principle can subdue a tiger? If you say so, it is laughable and has nothing to do with the matter. Xuedou knew where the case came down and dared to pass judgment on it, further saying: “Adding frost upon snow.” He raised it again for people to see.

If you can see it, I acknowledge that you have studied together with Guishan, Deshan, and Xuedou. If you cannot see it, you must above all refrain from giving rise to conceptual interpretations.

VERSE:First seen through

Second seen through

Adding frost upon snow—once he nearly fell into danger

General Feiqi entered the court of Lu

How many could ever return completely intact?

Hurry past!

Do not let him pass!

On the summit of the solitary peak, he sits within the grass

Duo! (one shout)

TRANSLATION: One seen through

Two seen through

Adding frost upon snow—once he nearly fell into danger

General Feiqi entered the court of Lu

How many could return completely intact?

Run swiftly past

Do not let him pass

On the summit of the solitary peak, sitting in the grass

Duo!

EXPLANATION OF THE VERSE: Xuedou composed verses on one hundred public cases. For each and every case, he had to light incense before bringing it forth; hence they became widely circulated in the world. The Master understood literature and had also thoroughly penetrated the public cases.

Only after examining them comprehensively and carefully did he dare put brush to paper. Why was this so? Because snakes and dragons are easy to distinguish, but Chan monks are difficult to deceive.

Xuedou had thoroughly penetrated this public case. At its intricate and critical point, he set down three lines, gathering them together in the verse: “Adding frost upon snow, he nearly fell into peril.” As for Deshan, whom did he resemble? He resembled Li Guang, who was naturally skilled in archery and was appointed by the emperor as General of the Flying Cavalry.

He charged into the court of the state of Lu and was captured alive by the Chanyu. At that time, Li Guang was wounded, and the enemy soldiers tied a rope between two horses and laid him upon it to carry him away. Li Guang feigned death and glanced aside, where he saw a Hu tribesman riding an excellent horse.

Li Guang suddenly leapt onto the horse’s back, pushed the Hu tribesman off, seized his bow and arrows, and spurred the horse southward. Drawing the bow, he shot back at his pursuers and thereby escaped danger. Because this man possessed such skill, he found life within death.

Xuedou introduced this into the verse to compare it with Deshan’s second visit to Guishan: though Guishan dealt with him as before, he managed to leap free. Observe how the ancients saw all the way through, spoke all the way through, acted all the way through, and functioned all the way through. They were truly heroic spirits, possessing the capacity to kill without blinking an eye, and only thus were they fit to become Buddhas on the spot.

One who becomes a Buddha on the spot naturally possesses the capacity to kill without blinking an eye; only then does one have a share in freedom and independence. Nowadays, when someone asks about the Way, he rubs his head and appears to have the mettle of a Chan monk; but with the slightest push, his back breaks and his thighs snap, scattering into seven or eight pieces, in utter confusion without the slightest continuity.

Therefore, the ancients said that continuity itself is exceedingly difficult. Look at Deshan and Guishan acting in this way—how could there be any bustling intellectual interpretation? How many people are capable of complete return?

“Swiftly he ran past”: Deshan gave a shout and immediately walked out. It was like Li Guang being captured and afterward devising a plan, shooting one arrow that killed a barbarian general, and escaping from the court of the state of Lu. Xuedou’s verse up to this point shows extraordinary skill.

Deshan turning his back on the Dharma hall, putting on his straw sandals, and departing expresses how he gained the advantage. Little did he know that this old fellow, as before, would not allow anyone to stick out his head.

Xuedou said, “He does not let him pass.” That evening, Guishan asked the head monk, “Where is the newcomer who came earlier?” The head monk replied, “Just then, he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his straw sandals, and departed.” Guishan said, “Later, this fellow will go to the summit of a solitary peak, build himself a grass hut, and revile the Buddhas and curse the Patriarchs.” How could he ever have let him pass? Truly, this was extraordinary. Having reached this point, why did Xuedou say, “On the summit of the solitary peak, he sits among the weeds”? Then he gave another shout. Tell me, where did it fall? Go and investigate for another thirty years!

CASE 5: XUEFENG’S GRAIN OF RICE

POINTER: Generally speaking, one who upholds and establishes the teaching of the school must be a heroic spirit, possessing the capacity to kill without looking back; only then is one worthy of becoming a Buddha on the spot. Thus illumination and function operate simultaneously; rolling up and letting go are proclaimed together; principle and phenomena are not two; provisional and real proceed side by side. To leap beyond one level is to establish the gate of secondary meaning; to cut through entangling vines on the spot leaves beginning students of later generations with nothing upon which to rely.

Yesterday it was thus, out of necessity; today it is thus again—offenses fill the heavens. If one is clear-eyed, one cannot be deceived in the slightest. If one has not yet attained this, lying crosswise in the tiger’s cave, one cannot avoid losing body and life.

Consider this!

PUBLIC CASE: Xuefeng instructed the assembly: “Gather up the entire earth, and it is as large as a single grain of rice. Cast it down before your face. If you do not understand—painted bucket! Beat the drum and call everyone to labor; then look!”

EXPLANATION: Changqing asked Yunmen, “When Xuefeng spoke in this way, was there still a place from which he could not emerge?” Yunmen replied, “There was.” Changqing asked, “How so?” Yunmen replied, “You cannot turn everything into the understanding of a wild-fox spirit.” Xuefeng’s words were insufficient above and excessive below; I shall make further entangling vines for you. The Master raised his staff and said, “Do you see Xuefeng?” Blind! The royal command is rather strict; it does not permit plundering people on their way to market. Dagui Zhe said, “I shall add mud to the ground for you.” The Master raised his staff and said, “Look! Look! Xuefeng comes before you and takes a shit.” Blind! Why do you not even recognize the stink of excrement?

Xuefeng instructed the assembly: “Gather up the entire earth, and it is as large as a single grain of rice.” The ancients had something extraordinary in receiving beings and benefiting living creatures; they simply did not shrink from hardship. The Master went three times to Touzi and nine times to Dongshan. Carrying a wooden bucket and ladle, wherever he went he served as rice steward, solely to break through this matter.

When he came to Dongshan, the Master served as rice steward. One day, Dongshan asked, “What are you doing?” Xuefeng replied, “Winnowing rice.” Dongshan asked, “Are you winnowing out the sand and keeping the rice, or winnowing out the rice and keeping the sand?” Xuefeng replied, “Sand and rice are discarded together.” Dongshan asked, “What will the great assembly eat?” Xuefeng immediately overturned the basin. Dongshan said, “Your affinity lies with Deshan,” and promptly directed him to go pay his respects there.

As soon as Xuefeng arrived at Deshan, he asked, “In the matter of the vehicle of the school transmitted from ancient times, do I have a share or not?” Deshan struck him once with his staff and asked, “What are you saying?” Through this, Xuefeng had an awakening. Later, while snowbound on Aoshan, the Master said to Yantou, “When I was at Deshan, the moment I received that blow, it was as though the bottom had fallen out of a bucket.” Yantou shouted and said, “Have you not heard it said, ‘What enters through the gate is not the treasure of one’s own house’?

You must let it flow forth from within your own breast, covering heaven and earth; only then will you have a small measure of accord.” Xuefeng suddenly attained great awakening. Bowing in homage, he said, “Elder brother! Only today have I accomplished the Way on Aoshan.” People today merely say, “The ancients devoted themselves to exhorting and teaching later generations to follow the rules.” To speak this way is to slander the ancients; it is called the offense of shedding the blood of a Buddha’s body.

The ancients were not careless like people today. How could they use a word or half a phrase to satisfy the aspirations of an entire lifetime? Because they upheld and established the teaching of the school and continued the Buddha’s life of wisdom, whenever they uttered a word or half a phrase, they naturally sat there cutting off the tongues of everyone under heaven.

They left you no path on which to focus your attention, and no place from which to give rise to emotional interpretation or cling to doctrine. Observe this instruction of Xuefeng. One knows that the Master had encountered genuine adepts, and therefore possessed the methods for forging genuine adepts.

Whenever he uttered a word or half a phrase, it did not arise from mental calculations or conscious deliberation, seeking a means of survival within a ghost cave. He was certainly outstanding among the multitude, sitting in command over past and present, permitting no deliberation or discussion. The Master’s function was entirely like this.

One day, the Master told the assembly, “There is a great serpent on South Mountain. All of you must look carefully!” Practitioner Lingdao stood up and said, “If so, someone in the monastery today will surely lose body and life.” The Master also said, “The entire earth is the eye of a śramana; where will you go to take a shit?” The Master further said, “At the Wangzhou pavilion, I have already met with you; at Wushi Mountain, I have already met with you; before the Sangha hall, I have already met with you.”

Baofu asked Ehu, “Set aside the area before the Sangha hall for the moment. What does it mean that the Wangzhou pavilion and Wushi Mountain have met with you?” Ehu hurried back to the abbot’s quarters.

The Master often cited words of this kind when instructing the assembly, saying, for example: “Gather up the whole great earth, and it is only as large as a grain of rice.” At such a time, can this be calculated by discriminating consciousness? You must smash the cage and net to pieces, let go entirely of gain and loss, right and wrong, and be free and at ease. Then you will naturally escape the encircling lines and see the adept’s function.

Tell me, where does Xuefeng’s meaning lie? Most people give rise to an intellectual interpretation and say: The mind is the master of the myriad things; the entire great earth is simultaneously in my hand. This is truly laughable and wholly irrelevant.

Here one must be a genuine person: as soon as one hears it cited, it penetrates to the bones and marrow; one sees through it and does not fall into conceptual thought or imagination. If one is a true traveling Chan monk and sees him acting like this, one will say that he has already become entangled on behalf of others. Look at Xuedou’s verse:

VERSE:The ox’s head vanishes,

The horse’s head returns;

Within Caoqi’s mirror, all dust is utterly absent.

Beat the drum and come to see—yet you do not see;

For whom do the hundred flowers bloom when spring arrives?

TRANSLATION: The ox’s head is gone,

The horse’s head returns;

Clear and pure, Caoqi’s mirror is unstained.

The drum is beaten; come and see—yet you do not see;

For whom do the hundred flowers bloom when spring arrives?

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou naturally saw that the ancient had simply indicated that vital artery with a single stroke, and therefore versified it: “The ox’s head vanishes, the horse’s head returns.” Tell me, what matter is being discussed? If you see through it, it is like eating porridge in the morning and rice at noon—nothing but the ordinary. Out of compassion, Xuedou at the outset smashed it to pieces with a single hammer blow and cut it off with a single phrase.

It is simply exceedingly lofty, like sparks struck from stone or a flash of lightning. It does not reveal the point of its blade and leaves you nowhere to lodge or depend. Tell me, can you search it out through the faculty of thought?

These two lines have already said everything at once. When he comes to the third line, Xuedou opens another channel and briefly reveals a little of the house style, but he has already fallen into the weeds. With the fourth line, he plunges directly into the weeds.

If you produce words upon words, phrases upon phrases, and meanings upon meanings, giving rise to interpretations and understandings, you will not only encumber this old monk but also betray Xuedou. Although the ancient’s words were like this, his meaning was not like this; he never fashioned doctrines with which to bind people. Regarding the line, “Within Caoqi’s mirror, all dust is utterly absent,” many people say that when the mind is still, it is the mirror.

This is truly laughable and wholly irrelevant. If you only keep contriving comparisons and doctrines, when will you ever attain realization? This is speech concerning the fundamental matter; this mountain monk dares not depart from the fundamental matter.

In the two lines, “The ox’s head vanishes, the horse’s head returns,” Xuedou has already spoken clearly. Precisely because people do not see, Xuedou becomes entangled again and versifies: “Beat the drum and come to see—yet you do not see.” Do the foolish see it? Again he tells you: “For whom do the hundred flowers bloom when spring arrives?” One may say that he has flung the gates wide open and, for your sake, opened them all at once in the shape of the character eight (八).

When spring arrives, even in deep caves and secluded valleys where no one is present, the hundred flowers still vie with one another in blooming. Tell me, for whom do they bloom?

CASE 6: YUNMEN’S EVERY DAY IS A GOOD DAY

PUBLIC CASE: Yunmen instructed: I do not ask you about the days before the fifteenth; say a word about the days after the fifteenth. The Master himself answered on their behalf: Every day is a good day.

COMMENTARY: Yunmen initially went to consult Muzhou. Muzhou’s responses turned as swiftly as lightning and were truly difficult to find a foothold in. Ordinarily, when receiving people, as soon as someone entered the gate he would seize him and hold him upright, saying: Speak!

Speak! If the person began to deliberate, Muzhou would immediately shove him out, saying: A blunt drill from the Qin dynasty. Yunmen came for an audience three times.

No sooner had he knocked on the door than Muzhou asked: Who is it? Yunmen replied: Wenyan. As soon as the door opened, he rushed inside.

Muzhou seized him and held him upright, saying: Speak! Speak! Yunmen began to deliberate and was immediately shoved out.

One of Yunmen’s feet was still inside the threshold when Muzhou slammed the door shut, crushing Yunmen’s foot. Yunmen cried out loudly in pain and suddenly attained great enlightenment. Thereafter, Yunmen’s mode of expression in receiving people followed Muzhou’s pattern throughout.

Yunmen stayed at the home of Minister Chen Cao for three years, and Muzhou directed him to Xuefeng’s assembly. Upon arriving, the Master immediately came before the assembly and asked: What is Buddha? Xuefeng said: Do not talk in your sleep!

Yunmen bowed and remained there for three years. One day, Xuefeng asked: What is your present view? Yunmen replied: My view does not differ from that of the sages by so much as a single hair or thread.

For twenty years, Chan Master Lingshu did not appoint a head monk. He often said: My head monk has been born. Later he said: My head monk is herding oxen.

Later he said: My head monk has set out on pilgrimage. Then one day, he suddenly had the bell rung and ordered the assembly to go before the three gates to welcome the head monk. Yunmen indeed arrived, and he was immediately invited to rest in the head monk’s quarters.

People at that time called Lingshu the Chan Master Who Knew the Sages, because he knew beforehand the events of the past and future. The ruler of Guang, King Liu, was about to mobilize his troops and personally came to the monastery to ask the Master to determine whether the outcome would be auspicious or inauspicious. Lingshu already knew of this in advance and serenely sat down and passed away.

The ruler of Guang angrily asked the attendant: When did the Venerable become ill? The attendant replied: The Master was never ill. He left a sealed letter and instructed me to give it to Your Highness when you came.

The ruler of Guang opened the envelope and found a note that read: The eye of humans and devas is the head monk in the monastery. The ruler of Guang understood the meaning and immediately halted his troops, then invited Yunmen to emerge and take up residence at Lingshu. Only later did Yunmen reside at Mount Yunmen.

When the Master opened the Dharma hall to preach, Palace Attendant Ju came and asked: Has Lingshu’s fruit ripened yet? The Master replied: In what year did you receive news that it was alive? He then cited the former circumstances concerning King Liu, who had once been a traveling incense merchant…

Later, King Liu posthumously bestowed upon Lingshu the title Chan Master Who Knew the Sages. Lingshu had not lost his supernatural powers throughout successive lifetimes. Because Yunmen had been a king for three lifetimes, he had lost his supernatural powers.

King Liu invited Yunmen and several venerable masters into the inner palace to pass the summer retreat. The other masters all permitted people within the palace to ask questions and gave Dharma talks; only Yunmen did not speak, and no one drew near him. An officer of the palace composed a verse and posted it on the wall of the Jade Green Hall:

Great wisdom in practice is the beginning of Chan;

The gate of Chan should be silent, not clamorous.

How could ten thousand kinds of clever speech compare with reality?

Only Yunmen remains entirely silent.

TRANSLATION: Great wisdom put into practice—only this is Chan;

The gate of Chan should be still, never filled with clamor.

How could myriad clever sayings compare with truth?

Only Yunmen sits completely silent.

Later, when the Master became abbot at Yunmen, in his ordinary Dharma talks he liked to speak of the three-word Chan: “Looking back,” “Observing,” and “Aha!” He also spoke one-word Chan. For example, a monk came and asked: One who kills his father or mother can go before the Buddha to repent; where can one who kills the Buddhas and patriarchs go to repent? Yunmen replied: “Exposed.” Another asked: What is the treasury of the true Dharma eye?

Yunmen replied: “Universal.” Truly, he left no room for deliberation. Yet when he came to a level place, he was also fond of scolding people: “If you utter a single phrase, it is exactly like an iron stake.” Later, four worthies emerged from his lineage: Dongshan Shouchu, Zhimen Guangzuo, Deshan Yuanmi, and Xianglin Chengyuan—all of them great masters of the school. Xianglin served as his attendant for eighteen years.

Whenever receiving him, the Master would simply call: Attendant Yuan! Yuan would answer: Yes! The Master would say: What is it?

This continued for eighteen years. One day, Yuan attained great enlightenment. Yunmen said: From now on, I will no longer call you.

In ordinarily receiving people, Yunmen often employed Muzhou’s methods. They were truly difficult to find a foothold in; his was a way of training people by pulling out nails and extracting pegs. Xuedou said: “I admire Shaoyang’s newly established pivotal function; throughout his life, he pulled out nails and extracted pegs for people.”

The Master posed a question, asking the assembly: “I do not ask you about before the fifteenth day; say something about after the fifteenth day.” Truly, this cuts off the thousand differences, admitting neither ordinary people nor sages. He answered in their stead: “Every day is a good day.” The phrase “before the fifteenth day” cuts off the thousand differences; the phrase “after the fifteenth day” also cuts off the thousand differences.

He did not say that tomorrow is the sixteenth. Later people merely follow the words and give rise to interpretations—what relevance does that have? In establishing this style of his school, Yunmen certainly had a purpose in guiding people.

Having asked the question, he immediately answered in their stead: “Every day is a good day.” This statement penetrates past and present, cutting off before and after all at once. For this mountain monk to speak about it in this way is also to follow the words and give rise to interpretations. Being killed by another is not as good as killing oneself; the moment a principle is raised, one tumbles into a pit and falls into a hole.

Within a single statement of Yunmen, all three statements are complete, for such was the essential principle of his school. When speaking a single statement, it must necessarily return to the source; otherwise, it is merely a fabricated interpretation. This matter does not permit extensive theorizing.

Yet those who have not penetrated it must proceed in this way; those who have penetrated it immediately perceive the intent of the ancients. Now see how Xuedou spins his entangling vines:

VERSE: Qu khước nhất

Niêm đắc thất

Thượng hạ tứ duy vô đẳng thất

Từ hành đạp đoạn lưu thủy thanh

Túng quan tả xuất phi cầm tích.

Thảo nhung nhung

Yên mịch mịch

Không Sanh nham bạn hoa lang tịch

Đờn chỉ kham bi Thuấn-nhã-đa

Mạc động trước

Động trước tam thập bổng.

TRANSLATION: Cast away one,

Take up seven.

Above, below, and throughout the four directions, none can compare.

Strolling at ease, he treads off the sound of the flowing stream;

Gaze as you may—could you depict the traces of a bird in flight?

The grass is lush and green,

The white mist hangs dense.

Beside Subhuti’s cliff, flowers fall in profusion;

A snap of the fingers grieves Shunyata.

Do not stir!

If you stir, receive thirty blows.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou’s talent in versifying the ancient cases was such that, at the very outset, he brandished the Diamond King’s precious sword with a single stroke, and only afterward briefly revealed a little of the tradition’s style. Although it is so, ultimately there are not two kinds of understanding. Most people interpret the two lines “Cast away one, take up seven” numerically, saying that “cast away one” refers to what lies before the fifteenth day.

Right at the beginning, Xuedou brought down these two lines, stamped and shattered everything, and then showed people: “Cast away one, take up seven.” Above all, avoid contriving a livelihood within words and phrases. Why? Because there is no juice in a painted cake.

Most people fall into discriminating consciousness. One must realize it before words and phrases have yet arisen; then, when the great function manifests before one, it will naturally be seen. Therefore, after Shakyamuni attained the Way, he remained in the kingdom of Magadha for twenty-one days, thinking: “The characteristics of all dharmas are quiescent and extinguished; they cannot be expressed in words.

I would rather not teach the Dharma, but quickly enter nirvana.” At this point, he could find no place to open his mouth. Through the power of skillful means, the Buddha taught the five bhikshus, and continued until there had been three hundred and sixty assemblies. The teachings of the Buddha’s entire lifetime were nothing but skillful means.

Thus it is said that he took off his precious robe and put on filthy garments. Having no other choice, he guided his children through the second gate of meaning, through a shallow and narrow place. If people were taught from the standpoint of total completeness, there would not be even half a person on the whole earth.

Tell me, what is the first statement? At this point, Xuedou revealed a little of its meaning for people to see. Above, you simply do not see any Buddhas; below, you do not see any sentient beings; externally, you do not see mountains, rivers, or the great earth; internally, you do not see seeing, hearing, sensing, or knowing.

It is exactly like dying and then coming back to life: long and short, good and bad are kneaded into a single mass, and no difference whatsoever is seen in anything that appears. Only afterward can one respond to circumstances without losing what is appropriate; only then can one see the place of which Xuedou spoke: “Cast away one, take up seven. Above, below, and throughout the four directions, none can compare.” If you penetrate this statement, then indeed, above, below, and throughout the four directions, none can compare; the myriad phenomena—the grasses, trees, humans, and animals—clearly and wholly display your own family style.

Therefore it is said:

VERSE: Vạn tượng chi trung độc lộ thân

Duy nhân tự khẳng nãi phương thân

Tích niên mậu hướng đồ trung mích

Kim nhật khán lai hỏa lí băng.

TRANSLATION: Amid the myriad phenomena, the body alone stands revealed;

Only when a person acknowledges it for himself does he draw near.

In former years, mistakenly, he sought it along the road;

Today, looking upon it, he sees ice within the furnace.

“In heaven and on earth, I alone am the most honored.” Most people in the world pursue the branches and do not seek the root. If one first realizes the root, naturally the grass bends when the wind blows, and water gathers to form a lake. “Strolling at ease, he treads off the sound of the flowing stream”—moving leisurely, he should tread off even the roaring sound of flowing water.

“Gaze as you may—could you depict the traces of a bird in flight?” Cast your eyes and look. On arriving here, the cauldrons of boiling oil and fiery furnaces are extinguished with a breath, while the trees of swords and mountains of blades dissolve with a shout; it is no difficult matter. Having reached this point, Xuedou, out of compassion and fearing that people might sit within the realm of having nothing to do, further said: “The grass is lush and green; the white mist hangs dense.” Thus, covering it over is immediately possible: “The grass is lush and green; the white mist hangs dense.” Tell me, whose realm is this?

Can it be called “Every day is a good day”? Laughable—it has no relevance. It is not even “Strolling at ease, he treads off the sound of the flowing stream”; nor is it “Gaze as you may—could you depict the traces of a bird in flight?” Nor is it “The grass is lush and green”; nor is it “The white mist hangs dense.” Although none of these is it, this itself is “Beside Subhuti’s cliff, flowers fall in profusion.” One must turn beyond the other side.

Have you not seen how the Venerable Subhuti sat quietly in the mountains while the devas rained down flowers in praise? The Venerable One asked: “Who is raining down flowers from the sky in praise?” The devas replied: “I am Shakra, Lord of the Devas.” The Venerable One asked: “Why do you praise me?” Shakra replied: “I honor the Venerable One for his excellent exposition of prajnaparamita.” The Venerable One said: “Regarding prajnaparamita, I have never spoken a single word. Why do you praise me?” Shakra replied: “The Venerable One does not speak, and I do not hear. Neither speaking nor hearing is true prajna.” Shakra, Lord of the Devas, again rained flowers all over the earth. Xuedou also composed a verse about this:

VERSE: Vũ quá vân ngưng hiểu bán khai

Sổ phong như họa bích thôi ngôi

Không Sanh bất giải nham trung tọa

Nhạ đắc Thiên hoa động địa lai.

TRANSLATION: The rain has passed, the clouds stand still, and dawn half opens;
Several painted peaks rise steep and layered.
Subhuti did not understand sitting within the mountains,
And thereby caused heavenly flowers to scatter throughout the earth.

Shakra has already rained flowers all over the earth; on arriving here, where could he hide? Xuedou further said:

TRANSLATION: I fear that though he tries to flee, escape is impossible;
Beyond the great directions, everything is utterly filled.
Vast and bustling—who knows where it ends?
From eight directions, the pure wind secretly tugs at his robe.

Even if one is completely stripped bare, entirely free and at ease, without the slightest fault, this is still not the ultimate principle. Then what, ultimately, is right? One should continue to the following words: “A snap of the fingers grieves the Spirit of Emptiness.” The Sanskrit Shunyata is translated here as the Spirit of Emptiness. Taking emptiness as its body, it has no body that can be touched; only when illuminated by the Buddha’s radiance does its body become visible. If you are like the Spirit of Emptiness, Xuedou should indeed snap his fingers in sorrow. Xuedou further said, “Do not stir!” What happens if you stir? In broad daylight beneath a clear sky, you open your eyes and sleep soundly.

CASE 7: HUI CHAO ASKS ABOUT THE BUDDHA

INTRODUCTORY WORDS: Before a single phrase is uttered, the thousand sages transmit nothing; even when one has never been apart, it is as though separated by a great chiliocosm. Even if one could discern it before sound arises and cut out the tongues of everyone under heaven, one would still not be a person of untrammeled nature. Therefore it is said: Heaven cannot cover it, earth cannot support it, empty space cannot contain it, and the sun and moon cannot illuminate it.

Only where there is no Buddha, when one alone proclaims oneself honored, can one come somewhat close. If one has not yet reached this state, then penetrate it upon the tip of a single hair, radiate great light, range freely in every direction, and respond to phenomena with sovereign freedom; whether gathering in or bringing forth, all must be fitting. Tell me, what is it that is so extraordinary?

I ask the assembly again: Do you understand? No one has ever known the hardships endured; the sole concern is to discuss the matter of the great accomplishment. Set aside the present matter for now; what about Xuedou’s koan?

Attend to the text below.

KOAN: A monk asked Fayan, “Huichao respectfully asks the Master: What is Buddha?” Fayan replied, “You are Huichao.”

COMMENTARY: Chan Master Fayan possessed the function of simultaneous pecking and tapping—the chick pecking from within as the hen taps from without—and only with the complete functioning of simultaneous pecking and tapping could he answer in this way. It may be said that he transcended sound and surpassed form, attaining great sovereignty; gathering in and releasing all at once, with life and death in his own hands—truly extraordinary.

Yet this koan has been discussed extensively in many places, and not a few have formed intellectual interpretations of it. They do not know that whenever the ancients let fall a word or half a phrase, it was like sparks struck from stone, like a flash of lightning, directly opening up the true path. Later people merely run after words and phrases, forming intellectual interpretations and saying, “Huichao himself is Buddha, so Fayan answered in that way.” Or they say, “It is like a man riding an ox while searching for the ox.” Or they say, “What was asked was correct; what relevance could anything else have?” If you understand it this way, you not only betray yourself but also bury the ancients.

If you wish to see Fayan’s complete functioning, you must be one who, when struck once with the staff, does not turn his head; whose teeth are like a forest of swords and whose mouth resembles a basin of blood; and who knows, beyond words, the place of return. Only then will there be a small measure of correspondence. If you form an intellectual interpretation of each and every case, then throughout the whole earth you are one who exterminates the lineage of the Buddha’s house.

Chan traveler Huichao awakened right here. Because he had long cherished and investigated this matter, at a single phrase it was as though the bottom fell out of a bucket.

As for Superintendent Ze, who was in Fayan’s assembly, he had never entered the Master’s room for consultation. One day Fayan asked, “Superintendent Ze, why do you not enter my room?” Ze replied, “Master, do you not know that I already attained a profound realization under Qinglin?” Fayan said, “Try presenting it to me.” Ze said, “I asked, ‘What is Buddha?’ Qinglin replied, ‘The Bingding fire-boy comes seeking fire.’” Fayan said, “Fine words, but I fear you have misunderstood them.

Explain them again.” Ze said, “Bingding belongs to fire. To take fire and seek fire is like me, being Buddha, going again in search of Buddha.” Fayan said, “The superintendent has indeed misunderstood.” Ze flew into a rage, shouldered his traveling bundle, crossed the river, and departed at once. Fayan said, “If this man returns, he can be saved; if he does not return, he cannot be saved.” Halfway along his journey, Ze reflected, “Fayan is the spiritual teacher of five hundred people.

How could he deceive me?” He therefore returned and sought instruction once more. Fayan said, “Ask me, and I shall answer you.” Ze asked, “What is Buddha?” Fayan replied, “The Bingding fire-boy comes seeking fire.” Ze immediately attained great awakening.

Nowadays, some people glare and produce interpretations; hence it is said, “Where there is no wound, do not make one.” With koans of this kind, a veteran practitioner hears them raised once and immediately knows where they come down. The Fayan school calls this “arrow points meeting one another.” It does not employ the Five Ranks of Lord and Minister or the Four Ways of Choosing; it discusses only arrow points meeting one another. Such is the family style of the Fayan school: one penetrates immediately beneath the phrase. If one thinks about it beneath the phrase, one can search and probe but never find it.

When Fayan opened his teaching hall, his assembly numbered five hundred; at that time the Buddhadharma flourished greatly. National Teacher Shao had followed Shushan for a long time and considered that he had attained the essential meaning. He gathered Shushan’s writings and portrait inscriptions from throughout his life, led his assembly on pilgrimage, and arrived at Fayan’s community.

The Master did not enter Fayan’s room but merely instructed his disciples to enter along with the assembly. One day, when Fayan ascended the seat, a monk asked, “What is a single drop of water from the Cao source?” Fayan replied, “It is a single drop of water from the Cao source.” The monk withdrew in bewilderment. Shao, standing among the assembly, heard this phrase and suddenly attained great awakening.

Later, the Master opened a teaching hall and became Fayan’s Dharma heir. He composed a verse and presented it:

VERSE:

To penetrate the mystery at the mountain peak

Is not a matter of the human realm.

Outside the mind there is no Dharma;

Before the eyes, green mountains fill the view.

Fayan gave his seal of approval, saying, “This verse alone makes you worthy to succeed to my school. In the future, you will be honored by kings and lords; I shall not equal you.” Consider: when the ancients awakened in this way, what principle was it? You cannot simply rely on what this mountain monk says.

Throughout the twelve hours of the day, you must personally summon your spirit in just this way and take responsibility together with the ancients. Then, in days to come, to extend your hand for others at the crossroads will not be difficult. Thus, when the monk asked Fayan, “What is Buddha?” and Fayan replied, “You are Huichao,” in what respect did either fail the other?

Have you not seen Yunmen say, “If, when it is raised, you do not attend to it, you immediately go astray; if you intend to deliberate, in what aeon will you awaken?” Xuedou’s verse below is truly radiant. Let me present it:

VERSE:

In the river country, the spring wind blows yet raises no ripple;

Deep amid dense blossoms, the francolin calls.

At three tiers of towering waves, the fish transforms into a dragon;

On the river of Yu, the fool still bails water in the night.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou was a master author. At those knots and entanglements of the ancients that are hard to bite into, hard to grasp, hard to penetrate, and hard to see, he composed a verse to reveal them to people—truly extraordinary. Xuedou had obtained the key of Fayan and also knew where Huichao’s realization lay.

Fearing that later people would mistakenly form interpretations beneath Fayan’s words and phrases, he therefore composed this verse. The monk asked as he did, and Fayan answered as he did; this is precisely: “In the river country, the spring breeze stirs but nothing rises; in the luxuriant flower garden, the partridge calls.” These two lines are only one line. Tell me, where does Xuedou’s meaning lie?

Many people in Jiangxi and Jiangnan understand them as two different things. They say that “In the river country, the spring breeze stirs but nothing rises” is a verse about Huichao. As for this very message, even if the spring breeze stirs throughout the river country, nothing rises.

They take the line “In the luxuriant flower garden, the partridge calls” as a verse about the noisy discussions of this saying everywhere, like partridges calling in a flower garden—but what relevance does that have? They do not know that these two lines of Xuedou are only one line. One must neither add nor subtract.

Clearly, his words are upright and his speech is upright, covering heaven and covering earth. The monk asked, “What is Buddha?” Fayan answered, “You are Huichao.” Xuedou versified it: “In the river country, the spring breeze stirs but nothing rises; in the luxuriant flower garden, the partridge calls.” If one can advance within this, one is worthy of being a solitary walker through emptiness. But if you give rise to conceptual interpretation, even after sixty kalpas throughout the three times, you still will not understand.

In the third and fourth lines, Xuedou was exceedingly compassionate and, for people’s sake, disclosed it all at once. The place where Chan traveler Chao attained great awakening was like this: “At the three-tiered rapids, the fish becomes a dragon; ignorant men on the Yu River still bail water through the night.” The three-tiered rapids at Wumen by the Meng Ford are the Dragon Gate, where Emperor Wu excavated three tiers.

Nowadays, on the third day of the third month, when peach blossoms open, through the sympathetic response of heaven and earth, any fish that leaps across the Dragon Gate grows horns upon its head, a mane upon its neck, and hair upon its tail; it gathers clouds and departs. Any fish unable to leap across has its forehead marked and returns. Fools chew and gnaw at the words, like people bailing out the Yu River at night to catch fish.

Why do they not realize that the fish has already become a dragon? Master Yiduan composed a verse:

VERSE:

One coin of Daguang money

Bought a fine cake.

Chewed and swallowed into the belly,

At once, hunger was no more.

TRANSLATION:

One coin of Daguang money

Bought a delicious cake.

Chewed and swallowed into the belly,

Right then, hunger was gone.

This verse is very good, but its wording is too clumsy. Xuedou’s versification is highly accomplished; it neither bruises the tongue nor cuts the hand. In former times, Canon Librarian Qing liked to ask people, “What is ‘At the three-tiered rapids, the fish becomes a dragon’?” I myself am not certain either. Let me ask you instead: After it has become a dragon, where is it now?

CASE 8: CUIYAN’S EYEBROWS

POINTER: If you understand, then on the path of active functioning you are like a dragon finding water, like a tiger leaning against the mountain. If you do not understand, you are swept along by the conventions of the mundane truth, like a ram butting a fence or one clutching a tree stump awaiting a rabbit. Sometimes a single phrase is like a crouching lion; sometimes a single phrase is like the precious sword of the Vajra King; sometimes a single phrase, while remaining seated, cuts off the tongues of everyone under heaven; sometimes a single phrase follows the current and pursues the waves.

If one is on the path of active functioning, one meets a true friend, discerns the pivotal circumstances, recognizes errors, and bears witness together. If one is swept along by the conventions of the mundane truth yet possesses a single eye, one can sit and cut off the ten directions, like a sheer wall rising a thousand fathoms. Therefore it is said, “When great functioning manifests before you, no fixed rule remains.” Sometimes one takes a blade of grass and makes it into the sixteen-foot golden body; sometimes one takes the sixteen-foot golden body and makes it into a blade of grass.

Tell me, upon what principle does this depend? Do you clearly understand? Let us examine this case.

CASE: At the end of the summer retreat, Cuiyan instructed the assembly: “From the beginning of summer until now, I have spoken for the brothers. Look—do Cuiyan’s eyebrows still remain?” Baofu said, “The thief knows the thief.” Changqing said, “They have grown.” Yunmen said, “Barrier.”

COMMENTARY: The ancients attended instruction in the morning and requested teaching in the evening. At the end of the summer retreat, Cuiyan again instructed the assembly in this way. Indeed, it towers aloft; indeed, it shakes heaven and moves the earth. The entire Tripitaka of 5,048 fascicles cannot avoid speaking of mind and nature, or of sudden and gradual teachings; but does it contain this message? The foremost rank is precisely such a time. Cuiyan was truly extraordinary. Consider what the master said. Tell me, where does his meaning lie?

When the ancients cast out a hook, they never displayed it deceptively; there had to be a principle by which they helped people. Most people misunderstand and say, “In broad daylight he spoke words irrelevant to the present, creating an issue where none existed. At the end of the summer retreat, he first confessed his own fault and examined himself so that others would not examine him.” This is truly laughable and utterly irrelevant.

Such an interpretation is called exterminating the lineage of the Buddha’s house. Throughout many generations, when the masters of the lineage opened an assembly, if they did not instruct and guide people, there would be no benefit whatsoever—what would they hope to accomplish? When you can see through this, you will then know that the ancients possessed the art of seizing the plowman’s ox and snatching food from a hungry person.

People today, when questioned, immediately gnaw at the words and phrases, making their livelihood upon the eyebrows. When one meets a person within the inner chamber, one naturally knows where that person is going. Amid a thousand transformations and ten thousand changes, knots, and difficulties, there is clearly a path of escape; only then can one respond to people in this way. If these words were not extraordinary, why would Yunmen, Baofu, and Changqing have vied to answer one another?

Baofu said, “The thief knows the thief.” This statement has provoked many kinds of conceptual interpretation. Tell me, what was Baofu’s meaning? Above all, avoid searching for the ancients within their words. If you produce concepts and give rise to thoughts, your eyeballs will be gouged out. Do you not know that Baofu’s turning word cut off Cuiyan’s heels?

Changqing said, “They have grown.” Many people say that Changqing followed in Cuiyan’s footsteps and therefore said, “They have grown.” This is still utterly irrelevant. They do not know that Changqing expressed his own understanding when he said, “They have grown.” Each person has a place from which to emerge. I ask you: Where is the place of growth? As a master, with the precious sword of the Vajra King directly before him, he used it immediately. Only when one smashes ordinary interpretations and cuts off all ideas of gain and loss, right and wrong, can one see the place from which Changqing offered his response.

Yunmen said, “Barrier.” This is truly extraordinary, yet difficult to investigate. Great Master Yunmen often used “one-word Chan” to instruct people. Yet within a single word, the three phrases must be complete.

Observe how naturally the ancients responded when confronted with pivotal circumstances. Compared with people today, even the form of their statements is vastly different. Although the ancients spoke in this way, their meaning was certainly not contained therein.

Since it was not contained therein, tell me, where was it? You must investigate it carefully for yourself. If one is clear-eyed and possesses the skill to illumine heaven and earth, then immediately all eight faces are exquisitely clear.

Xuedou used the single word “Barrier,” joined it with the other three, strung them together into one strand, and composed this verse:

VERSE:

Cuiyan instructs the assembly—

Throughout a thousand ages, none can match him.

The word “Barrier” answers him;

Losing money and incurring guilt.

Hard-pressed Baofu—

Neither suppression nor elevation can reach him.

Long-winded Cuiyan—

Clearly, he is the thief.

The white jade has no flaw;

Who can distinguish true from false?

Changqing understands him:

“The eyebrows have grown.”

TRANSLATION:

Cuiyan instructs the assembly—

Throughout a thousand ages, none can match him.

The word “Barrier” answers him;

Losing money and incurring guilt.

Baofu struggles with difficulty;

Suppression and elevation are hard to attain.

Cuiyan speaks at length;

Clearly, he is a thief.

The white jade is flawless;

Who can distinguish true from false?

Changqing understands him:

“The eyebrows have grown.”

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: If Xuedou had not compassionately composed a verse to reveal it to people, how could he have been called a good spiritual friend? The ancients acted in this way, each and every one of them doing so only because they had no other choice. Later students cling to their words and phrases, thereby giving rise to conceptual interpretations; consequently, they fail to see the intent of the ancients. Nowadays, for example, there are those who overturn the meditation platform, shout the assembly apart, and cannot be reprimanded; nevertheless, even so, they must truly reach this ground before it will do.

Xuedou said, “Unmatched throughout a thousand ages.” He was merely speaking of whether Cuiyan’s eyebrows were still there. What was so extraordinary about it that it was unmatched throughout a thousand ages? You must understand that when the ancients uttered a word or half a phrase, it was never commonplace; one must possess the eye that determines heaven and earth.

When Xuedou sets forth a word or half a phrase, it is like the sword of the Vajra King, like a crouching lion, like sparks struck from stone, like a flash of lightning. Unless one possesses the eye at the crown of the head, one cannot see where the ancients’ words come down. This instruction to the assembly was indeed unmatched throughout a thousand ages, surpassing even Deshan’s staff and Linji’s shout.

Tell me, in aiding others, where did Xuedou’s intention lie? How do you understand Xuedou’s words, “Unmatched throughout a thousand ages”?

“Answering one another with the word ‘Barrier,’ they lose money and incur blame.” What does this mean? Even one who possesses the eye that penetrates the barrier must be thoroughly discerning here. Tell me: was it Cuiyan who lost money and incurred blame, Xuedou who lost money and incurred blame, or Yunmen who lost money and incurred blame? If you can penetrate this, I will acknowledge that you possess an eye.

“Baofu was hard pressed; pressing down or lifting up could scarcely succeed.” This means pressing down oneself and lifting up the ancients. Where did Baofu press down, and where did he lift up?

“Cuiyan was talkative; clearly, he was a thief.” Tell me, what did the Master steal that made Xuedou call him a thief? Above all, avoid being carried along by the current of another’s words. When you arrive here, you must preserve your own integrity.

“The white jade was flawless”—this praises Cuiyan as being like white jade without the slightest blemish!

“Who could distinguish the true from the false?” It may be said that few indeed can distinguish them. Xuedou, a man of great ability, threaded everything together from beginning to end, and only at the very last said, “Changqing understood him; his eyebrows grew.” Tell me, where did they grow? Look quickly!

CASE 9: ZHAOZHOU’S FOUR GATES

POINTER: When a bright mirror is raised upon its stand, beauty and ugliness distinguish themselves. With the sword Moye in hand, life and death accord with the occasion. A Han comes, and a Hu departs; a Hu comes, and a Han departs. Within death, one gains life; within life, one gains death. Tell me, when you reach this point, what will you do? If you do not possess the eye that penetrates the barrier as a place to turn yourself around, you will surely be unable to do anything here. Tell me, what is the eye that penetrates the barrier and serves as a place to turn oneself around? Try to present it!

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “What is Zhaozhou?” Zhaozhou replied, “The East Gate, the West Gate, the South Gate, and the North Gate.”

COMMENTARY: In general, those who investigate Chan and inquire into the Way must examine themselves clearly; above all, they must avoid discriminating among words and phrases. Why? Have you not seen Zhaozhou say, “The supreme Way is not difficult; it only abhors discrimination”?

And have you not seen Yunmen say, “Nowadays, Chan travelers gather in groups of three or five, put their heads together, and noisily chatter, saying, ‘This is a phrase of “bearing upward,” while that is a phrase of “going out from the place close to the body.”’” They do not understand that, within the ancients’ gate of skillful means, provisional words and phrases were established only because beginners and later students had not yet understood the ground of mind or seen their original nature, and there was no other choice.

When the Patriarch came from India, he separately transmitted the seal of mind, directly pointed to the human mind, and taught seeing one’s nature and becoming a Buddha. Where was there any such mass of entangling vines? One must cut off words and language, see the truth beyond conventions, and penetrate through to liberation. Then one may rightly be said to be like a dragon finding water or a tiger relying upon the mountain.

Among the worthy predecessors who had long investigated Chan, some had seen but had not yet penetrated, while others had penetrated but had not yet attained clarity. Their inquiry was called “requesting further instruction.” If one has seen and penetrated yet still requests further instruction, one must also be able to turn freely amid words and phrases without becoming stuck. When one who has long investigated requests further instruction, it is like handing a ladder to a thief. In truth, this matter does not reside in words and phrases. Therefore, Yunmen said, “If this matter resided in words and phrases, would not the teachings of the Three Vehicles and the twelve divisions of scripture contain words and phrases? Why, then, was it necessary for Patriarch Bodhidharma to come from India?”

Among Fenyang’s eighteen kinds of questions, this question is called a “Question That Tests the Host”; it is also called a “Probing Question.” This monk’s question was truly extraordinary. Had it not been Zhaozhou, it would have been difficult to answer.

The monk asked, “What is Zhaozhou?” Zhaozhou, an adept true to his own station, immediately replied, “The East Gate, the West Gate, the South Gate, and the North Gate.”

The monk said, “I am not asking about this Zhaozhou.”

Zhaozhou said, “Which Zhaozhou are you asking about?”

Later people called this “nothing-to-do Chan,” and thereby deceived quite a few people. Why? The monk asked about Zhaozhou, and Zhaozhou answered, “The East Gate, the West Gate, the South Gate, and the North Gate,” merely answering with reference to the city of Zhaozhou. If you understand it in this way, then even the inhabitants of a three-household village understand the Buddha Dharma. This destroys the Buddha Dharma. It is like comparing a fish’s eye with a luminous pearl: they resemble each other, but what seems right is not right.

This old monk says, “It is not in Henan; it is precisely in Hebei.” Tell me, is there something to do, or is there nothing to do? You must be thoroughly discerning.

Yuan Lugong said, “Only the final phrase reaches the secure barrier.” The essential compass-point does not lie within speech. A gust of wind every ten days and a shower of rain every five days; the country is peaceful and the people delight in their work, patting their bellies and singing songs—this is called an age of great peace, and this is called having nothing to do. Blank ignorance is not called having nothing to do.

You must be able to draw out the door-bolt, emerge from the forest of thorns, and stand utterly naked and completely at ease, just as before, exactly like an ordinary person. Whether you have something to do or nothing to do, you may move freely in every direction and will never cling to emptiness or fixate upon existence.

There is a group of people who say, “Originally, there is not a single thing. When tea comes, simply drink tea; when rice comes, simply eat rice.” This is a great falsehood: they speak of attaining what they have not attained and speak of realizing what they have not realized. Originally, they have never investigated and penetrated. When they hear others speak of mind and nature, or of the mysterious and wondrous, they immediately declare that it is all wild talk and that originally there is nothing to do. Truly, this is the blind leading the blind.

Do they not understand that, before the Patriarch came, people called heaven earth and called mountains rivers? Why did the Patriarch come from the West? What is spoken of when teachers ascend the hall and receive students in their chambers everywhere? It is all measured by conceptual consciousness. Only when this conceptual measuring is exhausted can one see and penetrate. If one sees and penetrates, then, just as before, heaven is heaven, earth is earth, mountains are mountains, and water is water.

An ancient said:

Mind is the root; dharmas are the dust.
The two are like stains upon a mirror.

Upon reaching this ground, one naturally stands utterly naked and completely at ease. Even if one exhausts reason and discourse, this is still not the place of peace and security. When they reach this point, most people mistakenly understand it as a state of having nothing to do: they do not even bow to the Buddha or burn incense. It resembles the truth, but when it comes to complete liberation, it is not so. As soon as they are questioned, they appear to have reached the ultimate; but the moment they are seized, they shatter into seven flowers and eight pieces. They remain in a state of empty bellies and lofty minds. When the thirtieth night of the twelfth month arrives, they beat their breasts with flailing hands—but by then it is too late.

The monk questioned Zhaozhou in this way, and Zhaozhou answered in this way. Tell me, how can you seek it out? To say it is this way will not do; to say it is not this way will not do either. Ultimately, how is it? This is the difficult point. Therefore, Xuedou brought it forth before your eyes and pointed it out to you.

One day, while Zhaozhou was sitting, his attendant announced, “A great king has arrived.”

Zhaozhou started in alarm and said, “May the Great King enjoy ten thousand blessings!”

The attendant said, “Reverend, he has not arrived yet.”

Zhaozhou said, “And yet you said he had arrived.”

To investigate Chan to this point and see to this point is truly extraordinary. Chan Master Nan remarked: “The attendant knows only how to announce a guest, but does not know that he himself is in the imperial homeland. Zhaozhou entered the grass to seek the man, and suddenly his whole body was covered in mud.” Do you know this place of truth? Look at Xuedou’s verse:

VERSE: Within the phrase, presenting the pivotal function, it comes straight to the face;

The śakara eye is utterly free of the finest dust.

East, West, South, and North—the gates face one another;

Countless iron hammers strike, yet cannot break them open.

TRANSLATION: Within the phrase, the pivotal function reveals the face;

Not a mote of dust clings to the śakara eye.

South, North, East, and West—the gates face one another;

Countless iron hammers strike, yet cannot break them open.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: When Zhaozhou met the occasion, he was like the precious sword of the Vajra King: the moment you began to deliberate, it cut off your head; time and again, directly before your face, it plucked out your eyes. This monk dared to pull the tiger’s whiskers, posing a question as though creating trouble where none existed. Little did he know that within the phrase there was a pivotal function; he had already presented that function. Zhaozhou likewise did not fail his question, and so he too presented the pivotal function in reply. It was not that Zhaozhou answered everyone in this way. One who sees through it naturally accords with it, as though everything had been arranged beforehand.

A non-Buddhist once came to the Buddha holding a sparrow in his hand and asked: “Tell me, is the bird in my hand dead or alive?” The World-Honored One immediately stepped up to the threshold and said: “You tell me: am I going out or coming in?” (Another version says that the World-Honored One raised his hand and asked: “Closed or open?”) The non-Buddhist was unable to answer and immediately bowed. This manner of speaking resembles the case here.

The bloodline of the ancients was naturally unbroken; thus it is said: “The question lies in the answer, and the answer lies in the question.” Xuedou saw through it and immediately said: “Within the phrase, presenting the pivotal function, it comes straight to the face.” Within the phrase there is a pivotal function carrying two implications, as though asking about the person and as though asking about the scene. Without shifting so much as a single strand of hair, Zhaozhou immediately said to him: “The East Gate, the West Gate, the South Gate, and the North Gate.” The line, “The śakara eye is utterly free of the finest dust,” means that Zhaozhou swept away both person and scene, responding to the monk by presenting the pivotal function within the phrase.

This is called having both pivotal function and scene; the moment it turns, it illuminates and penetrates to the very depths of the other’s heart. Were it not so, it would have been difficult to stop the monk’s question. “Śakara eye” is a Sanskrit expression translated as “the adamantine eye,” also called the Vajra eye.

Its vision is unobstructed: it not only sees every minute hair a thousand miles away, but also determines the false and decides the true, discerns gain and loss, distinguishes the capacities appropriate to the occasion, and recognizes errors. Xuedou said: “East, West, South, and North—the gates face one another; countless iron hammers strike, yet cannot break them open.” This is precisely how Xuedou saw it. How, then, will you open these gates?

Investigate carefully!

CASE 10: MUZHOU’S EMPTY-HANDED ROBBER

POINTER: It is so, it is so; it is not so, it is not so. If battle is discussed, each and every one is found at the point of turning. Therefore it is said: If one turns upward, then Shakyamuni, Maitreya, Manjushri, Samantabhadra, the thousand sages and ten thousand sages, and the lineage masters throughout the world all swallow their breath and close their mouths. If one turns downward, then birds, insects, ants, and all crawling and sentient beings each emit radiant light, and each stands like a wall ten thousand fathoms high. If one turns neither upward nor downward, how can this be discussed? Where there is a principle, rely on the principle; where there is no principle, rely on the precedent. Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Muzhou asked a monk: “Where have you just come from?” The monk immediately shouted, “He!” Muzhou said: “This old monk has been subjected to one shout from you.” The monk shouted again. Muzhou said: “After three shouts and four shouts, what will you do?” The monk fell silent. Muzhou immediately struck him and said: “You empty-handed robber!”

COMMENTARY: Anyone who establishes the teaching of the Chan school must possess the eye of an authentic lineage master and the functioning of an authentic lineage master. Muzhou’s pivotal action was like a flash of lightning; he delighted in testing and exposing lecturing masters. Ordinarily, when he uttered a word or half a phrase, it was like an entire forest of thorns, leaving no place to set hands or feet.

As soon as he saw a monk approach, he would say: “A ready-made case—I spare you thirty blows.” Sometimes, on seeing a monk, he would call: “Venerable!” When the monk turned his head, Muzhou would say: “A board-carrying fellow!” He instructed the assembly: “Those who have not yet found an entry must find an entry. Those who have already found an entry must not fail this old monk.” Muzhou mostly guided people in this way.

The monk in this case was also skillfully honed, yet he had a dragon’s head and a snake’s tail. At that very moment, had it not been Muzhou, someone else would have been thrown into prolonged confusion by him. When Muzhou asked, “Where have you just come from?” and the monk immediately shouted, tell me: what was the essential meaning?

This old man was not thrown into disorder. He calmly said to him: “This old monk has been subjected to one shout from you.” It seemed as though he had accepted part of the monk’s statement, yet also as though he were testing him, leaning his body to one side to see what the monk would do. This monk shouted again.

It resembled the real thing, but although it resembled it, it was not yet correct. This old man had caught him by the nose, and so he asked: “After three shouts and four shouts, what will you do?” Sure enough, the monk was struck dumb. Muzhou immediately hit him and said: “You empty-handed robber!” Truly, he tested the man with perfect accuracy; as soon as the words were released, there was an intimate understanding.

Regrettably, this monk was struck dumb, and so Muzhou called him an empty-handed robber. If it were you, when Muzhou asked, “After three shouts and four shouts, what will you do?” how should you reply to avoid being called an empty-handed robber? Here, one who knows life and death, clearly discerns good and bad, and has firmly set foot upon the ground of truth would pay no heed to what comes after three shouts or four shouts.

Because this monk was struck dumb, the old man judged the offense and passed sentence according to the established case. Listen to Xuedou’s verse:

VERSE: Two shouts and three shouts—

An adept knows the transformations of the pivotal function.

If you say they rode upon the tiger’s head,

Both men become blind.

Who is blind?

I bring it forth for everyone under heaven to see.

TRANSLATION: Two shouts together with three—

The adept knows the pivotal transformations.

If you say they rode the tiger’s head,

Both became utterly blind.

Who is blind?

I bring it forth for all beneath heaven to see.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou did not hesitate to provide something for people. Unless one is an adept, one merely shouts wildly and at random. Therefore, an ancient said: Sometimes a shout does not have the function of a shout; sometimes a shout has the function of a shout; sometimes a shout is like a crouching lion; sometimes a shout is like the precious sword of the Vajra King.

Chan Master Xinghua said: “I see you shouting in the eastern hall and also shouting in the western hall. Do not shout wildly and at random. Even if your shouting were to send Xinghua soaring up to the Heaven of the Thirty-three, then falling back to earth and lying unconscious, when I had regained consciousness, I would still tell you that it was not yet right.

Why? Because Xinghua has never cast pearls to you from within the purple curtain. Why do you merely delight in shouting wildly and at random?”

Patriarch Linji said: “I hear that all of you imitate my shout. I ask you: A monk comes from the eastern quarters, and a monk comes from the western quarters; both shout simultaneously. Which shout belongs to the guest, and which shout belongs to the host? If you cannot distinguish host from guest, henceforth you must not imitate this old monk.” Therefore, Xuedou’s verse says, “The adept knows pivotal transformation.” Although this monk was taken in hand by Muzhou, he nevertheless knew the point of pivotal transformation. Tell me, at what point did this monk know pivotal transformation?

Chan Master Zhi of Lumen commented on this monk: “Those who understand the Dharma fear Yantou’s saying: ‘When it comes to battle, each person stands at the point of transformation.’” Master Sixin of Huanglong said: “When exhausted, there is transformation; through transformation, there is free passage.” This is where the patriarchs sat and severed the tongues of everyone under heaven. If you know pivotal transformation, the moment it is brought up, you know where it comes down.

There is a group of people who say: “Why wait for him to give three shouts or four shouts? Simply shout just as his shout is about to end—twenty or thirty shouts—and keep shouting until Maitreya descends to be born. This is called riding the tiger’s head.” If you see and understand it this way, you do not understand that Muzhou wanted to see that monk; you are very far off indeed.

One who rides a tiger’s head must have a sword in hand and must also know how to turn and transform. Xuedou says that if one sees and understands in this way, “both are completely blind.” Xuedou is like one wielding the long Heaven-Supporting Sword, awe-inspiring in his majestic bearing. If you understand Xuedou’s intent, you will naturally understand a thousand places and ten thousand places simultaneously, and you will immediately see that the latter part of Xuedou’s verse is merely a commentary.

He further says, “Who is blind?” Tell me: Is the guest blind, or is the host blind? Or are host and guest both blind at once? “Bring it forth for everyone under heaven to see”—this is the living point; here Xuedou finished the verse all at once. Again he says, “Bring it forth for everyone under heaven to see.” Tell me, how should it be seen? With eyes open, or with eyes closed? Is there anyone who can escape it?