佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

CASE 51: WHAT IS XUEFENG?

INTRODUCTION: As soon as there is right and wrong, the mind is lost in confusion. If one does not fall into stages and ranks, there is still nothing to seek or investigate. Tell me: is letting go correct, or is holding fast correct? Even here, if there remains the slightest thread of conceptual understanding, one is still obstructed by words and discussion, still entangled in devices and circumstances, and has altogether become like a vine clinging to grass and trees. Even if one immediately reaches the place of solitary liberation, one still cannot avoid gazing toward one’s homeland from ten thousand miles away. Can you grasp it? If you have not yet grasped it, simply understand the ready-made koan. Let us examine it.

KOAN: When Xuefeng was dwelling in a hermitage, two monks came to pay their respects. Seeing them approach, Xuefeng pushed open the hermitage door with his hand, thrust himself outside, and said, “What is it?” The monk also said, “What is it?” Xuefeng lowered his head and returned to the hermitage. Later, the monk went to Yantou.

Yantou asked, “Where have you come from?” The monk replied, “From Lingnan.” Yantou asked, “Have you ever been to Xuefeng?” The monk replied, “I have.” Yantou asked, “What words were exchanged?” The monk recounted the preceding incident. Yantou asked, “What did he say?” The monk replied, “He said nothing; he merely lowered his head and returned to the hermitage.” Yantou said, “Alas! I regret that at the beginning I did not tell him the final word.

Had I told him, what could anyone in the world have done to old Xue?” At the end of the summer retreat, the monk again brought up the preceding matter and inquired about it. Yantou asked, “Why did you not ask sooner?” The monk replied, “I did not dare treat it lightly.” Yantou said, “Although Xuefeng was born of the same branch as I, he did not die of the same branch as I. If you wish to know the final word, it is simply this.”

COMMENTARY: Anyone who upholds and supports the ancestral teaching must clearly discern what accords with the occasion, know advance and retreat, right and wrong, and be thoroughly versed in killing and giving life, holding fast and releasing. If one’s eyes are dim and obscure, then when one encounters a question, one merely questions, and when one encounters an answer, one merely answers, unaware that one’s nose is in another person’s hand.

Xuefeng and Yantou studied together under Deshan. This monk’s understanding, gained from questioning Xuefeng, reached only this point; even when he went to see Yantou, he still did not accomplish a single thing. He merely troubled these two venerable elders: one questioned and one answered, one held fast and one released.

Right down to the present day, people throughout the world have become caught in a tangled knot that they cannot unravel. Tell me, where is this tangled knot?

Although Xuefeng had traveled and studied everywhere, it was only at last, at the inn on Mount Ao, when Yantou spurred him on, that he attained complete cessation and great thorough awakening. Later, when Yantou was dismissed, he served as a ferryman by a lake. On each bank he hung a wooden clapper; anyone wishing to cross would strike it once. Yantou would say, “You cross to the other bank,” and then he would emerge from among the reeds, plying his oar.

Xuefeng returned to Lingnan and lived in a hermitage. This monk was also an experienced practitioner. Seeing him approach, Xuefeng pushed open the hermitage door with his hand, thrust himself outside, and said, “What is it?” If someone asked this way nowadays, people would immediately seize upon it and ponder it.

This monk too was extraordinary; he merely answered, “What is it?” Xuefeng lowered his head and returned to the hermitage. It is commonly said that this was an encounter beyond words. The monk could not fathom it.

Some say that Xuefeng was rendered speechless by the monk’s single question and had to return silently to the hermitage. They do not realize that Xuefeng’s intention contained something deadly poisonous. Although Xuefeng gained the advantage, little did he know that, in concealing his body, he revealed his shadow.

Later, the monk carried this koan from Xuefeng to Yantou and asked him to judge it. When he arrived, Yantou asked, “Where have you come from?” The monk replied, “From Lingnan.” Yantou asked, “Have you ever been to Xuefeng?” If you wish to see Xuefeng, look carefully at this single question. The monk answered, “I have.” Yantou asked, “What words were exchanged?” These words too did not pass idly. The monk did not understand; he merely followed the course of those words as it turned. Yantou asked, “What did he say?” The monk answered, “The Master lowered his head, said nothing, and returned to the hermitage.” The monk did not realize that Yantou, wearing straw sandals, had already walked through his belly several times.

Yantou said, “Alas! I regret that at the beginning I did not tell him the final word. Had I told him the final word, what could anyone in the world have done to old Xue?” Yantou too was helping the strong rather than the weak.

The monk remained as dark and benighted as before, unable to distinguish black from white. Harboring a bellyful of doubt, he truly believed that Xuefeng had not understood. At the end of the summer retreat, he again brought up the matter and requested instruction.

Yantou said, “Why did you not ask sooner?” What scheming from this old fellow! The monk replied, “I did not dare treat it lightly.” Yantou said, “Although Xuefeng was born of the same branch as I, he did not die of the same branch as I. If you wish to know the final word, it is simply this.” Yantou went beyond all bounds, sparing not his eyebrows.

Ultimately, how do you understand this?

In Deshan’s assembly, Xuefeng served as head cook. One day the meal was late, and Deshan carried his bowls into the Dharma hall. Xuefeng said, “The bell has not yet rung and the drum has not yet sounded.

Where are you going, old man, carrying your bowls?” Deshan said nothing, lowered his head, and returned to the abbot’s quarters. Xuefeng recounted this to Yantou. Yantou said, “Even the great Deshan does not understand the final word.” When Deshan heard this, he had his attendant summon Yantou to the abbot’s quarters and asked, “Do you not acknowledge this old monk?” Yantou secretly conveyed his meaning.

The next day, when Deshan ascended the hall, he was unlike his usual self. In front of the Sangha hall, Yantou clapped his hands and laughed aloud, saying, “How delightful! The old man understands the final word.

From now on, no one in the world will be able to do anything to him. Even so, he will have only three years.”

In this koan, both Xuefeng and Deshan said nothing. If you say that they gained the advantage, little do you know that they had already become thieves. Because the Master had once been a thief, he later also knew well how to act as a thief. Therefore, an ancient said, “Only with the final word does one reach the secure barrier.” Some say that Yantou surpassed Xuefeng. This is certainly a misunderstanding.

Yantou often used this device to instruct the assembly: “A clear-eyed person has no nest or den. To cast away things is superior; to follow things is inferior. As for the final word, even if one personally saw the Patriarch come, one still could not comprehend it.” When the meal was late, Deshan carried his bowls into the Dharma hall. Yantou said that even the great Deshan had not yet understood the final word. Xuedou commented, “I have often heard it said that the one-eyed dragon originally had only one eye.” Little does he realize that Deshan was a toothless tiger. Had Yantou not understood, how could he have known that yesterday and today were not the same?

Do you wish to understand the final word? It merely allows old Hu to know, but does not allow old Hu to understand. From ancient times to the present, the myriad koans, with their thousand variations and ten thousand distinctions, have been like a forest of thorns. If you penetrate them, no one in the world can do anything to you, and the Buddhas of the three times stand downwind. If you cannot penetrate them, then investigate Yantou’s words: “Although Xuefeng was born of the same branch as I, he did not die of the same branch as I.” In this single sentence, there is naturally a place from which to emerge. Xuedou versified it:

VERSE:

The final word—

For your sake I shall speak it:

When light and darkness come as a pair, that is the crucial moment.

Born of the same branch, all know one another;

Not dying of the same branch—how utterly extraordinary!

How utterly extraordinary!

Yellow heads and blue eyes must truly distinguish it.

North, South, East, and West—going home, departing and returning;

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

TRANSLATION: The final word—For your sake I speak:

Light and darkness paired—there lies the crucial moment.

Born of the same branch, everyone knows alike;

Not dying of the same branch is truly extraordinary.

Truly extraordinary!

Yellow heads and blue eyes should distinguish it clearly.

East, West, South, and North—returning and coming again;

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

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: “The final phrase—I shall speak it for you.” Xuedou versifies this final phrase; its meaning is that, for each other’s sake, one falls entirely into the weeds. Even if the verse exhausts the matter, it conveys only a little of the color of the fur. If one wishes to see through it, even this will not do. Yet he dares open his mouth and loudly declare, “When illumination and darkness stand side by side, that is the proper occasion.” He opens a broken-down road for you, and also strikes you dead with a single phrase. At the end, he further adds a commentary for you.

One day Zhaoqing asked Luoshan, “Yantou said, ‘Thus and thus; not thus and not thus.’ What is the essential meaning?” Luoshan called, “Great Master!” Qing responded, “Yes!” Luoshan said, “Double illumination and also double darkness.” Qing bowed in gratitude and departed. Three days later, Qing asked again, “The other day, through the Venerable’s compassion, I received your instruction, but in contemplating it I have not broken through.” Luoshan said, “I have already done my utmost for you.” Qing said, “Venerable, carry the fire away.” Luoshan said, “If that is so, bring forth whatever you doubt, Great Master, and ask.” Qing asked, “What are double illumination and double darkness?” Luoshan said, “Born together and also dying together.” Qing bowed in gratitude and departed.

Later, a monk asked Zhaoqing, “What is it like when there is both birth together and death together?” Qing replied, “Hold shut that dog’s mouth.” The monk said, “Great Master, take up the mouth with which you eat.” That monk then went and asked Luoshan, “What is it like when there is birth together but not death together?” Luoshan replied, “Like an ox without horns.” The monk asked, “What is it like when there is both birth together and death together?” Luoshan replied, “Like a tiger sprouting horns.” The final phrase is precisely this principle.

In Luoshan’s assembly, a monk took this meaning and went to question Zhaoqing. Qing replied, “Both here and there know it. Why?

If I go to the Eastern Continent of Purvavideha and speak a phrase, the Western Continent of Aparagodaniya also knows it. If a phrase is spoken in heaven, the human realm also knows it. Mind knows mind; eye illumines eye.

Being born in the same mode is still easy to see; not dying in the same mode is truly extraordinary. Even Shakyamuni and Bodhidharma could not seek it out. ‘East, west, south, and north—going and returning,’ the scene has a certain beauty. ‘Deep at night, together they behold the snow on a thousand mountains.’ Now tell me: is this double illumination or double darkness? Is it birth in the same mode or death in the same mode?

Let a Chan monk endowed with the bright eye try to distinguish it clearly!

CASE 52: ZHAOZHOU FERRIES DONKEYS AND HORSES ACROSS

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “I have long heard of Zhaozhou’s stone bridge, but on arriving here I see only a log bridge.” Zhaozhou said, “You see only the log bridge and therefore do not see the stone bridge.” The monk asked, “What is the stone bridge?” Zhaozhou replied, “It ferries donkeys across; it ferries horses across.”

COMMENTARY: In the city of Zhaozhou there is a stone bridge built by Li Ying, famous throughout the realm to this day. A log bridge is simply a bridge made from a single log. This monk deliberately sought to diminish Zhaozhou’s august radiance, and so he asked, “I have long heard of Zhaozhou’s stone bridge, but on arriving here I see only a log bridge.” Zhaozhou replied, “You see only the log bridge and therefore do not see the stone bridge.” Judging from the monk’s question, it seems merely an ordinary manner of conversation.

Zhaozhou used a hook in his words to catch him, and sure enough, he took the bait. Following along, the monk asked, “What is the stone bridge?” Zhaozhou replied, “It ferries donkeys across; it ferries horses across.” Truly, within his words there is naturally a place from which to emerge.

Zhaozhou was unlike Linji or Deshan, who employed the staff and the shout; he used only words and phrases to give life and deal death. Examine this public case carefully. It seems merely like an ordinary exchange of pivotal activity. Even so, it is truly difficult to find any place to lay hold of it.

One day Zhaozhou and the head monk were looking at the stone bridge. Zhou asked, “Who built it?” The head monk replied, “Li Ying built it.” Zhou asked, “When he built it, where did he lay his hands?” The head monk could not answer. Zhou said, “Usually you speak of the stone bridge, yet when asked where he laid his hands, you do not know.”

One day, while Zhaozhou was sweeping the ground, a monk asked, “The Venerable is a good spiritual friend; why is there still dust?” Zhou replied, “It comes from outside.” The monk asked, “This monastery is pure; why is there still dust?” Zhou replied, “There is yet another speck.”

A monk asked, “What is the Way?” Zhou replied, “Outside the wall.” The monk said, “I am not asking about that road; I am asking about the Great Way.” Zhou replied, “The Great Way leads through to Chang’an.”

Zhaozhou alone employed this pivotal activity. The Master had reached a place of plain reality and ease. In guiding people, he neither struck against a sharp edge nor cut their hands; yet he naturally towered aloft. His use of this pivotal activity was exceedingly skillful. Xuedou brings it out in verse:

VERSE:

Lofty and solitary, yet not established—the Way is thereby exalted;

Entering the sea, one must bait a hook for the giant ao.

How laughable, old Guanxi of the same era,

Who could say that catching the arrow was also fruitless toil.

TRANSLATION:

Soaring beyond, yet not established—the Way is thereby exalted;

Entering the sea, one must cast a hook for the giant ao.

How laughable, old Guanxi of that same time,

Who said that catching the arrow was labor spent in vain.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the line “Soaring beyond, yet not established—the Way is thereby exalted,” Xuedou versifies Zhaozhou’s ordinary way of guiding people: he does not establish mystery and subtlety, nor does he establish lofty transcendence. As people in various places say, “Smash empty space to pieces; smash Mount Sumeru to pieces; let dust arise at the bottom of the sea; let Sumeru beat up waves”—only then do they call it the Way of the Patriarchs.

Therefore Xuedou says, “Soaring beyond, yet not established—the Way is thereby exalted.” To stand like a wall ten thousand fathoms high, displaying the numinous, extraordinary efficacy of the Buddha-Dharma, may indeed be solitary, perilous, and lofty, but it is not equal to establishing no solitary peril at all. Simply ordinary and natural, rolling smoothly along, it establishes itself without being established and is lofty of itself without being raised high.

Only when the pivotal activity is free from solitary peril can its mystery be seen.

Therefore Xuedou says, “Entering the sea, one must cast a hook for the giant ao.” Observe how the Master, as a clear-eyed teacher of the school, leisurely lets fall a phrase and employs a pivotal activity. He does not fish for shrimp, minnows, snails, or clams; he fishes only for a giant ao. He is truly an adept. This line clearly reveals the opening portion of the public case.

As for the line “How laughable, old Guanxi of the same era,” a monk asked Guanxi, “I have long heard the name Guanxi, but on arriving here I see only a pond in which hemp is soaked.” Guanxi replied, “You see only the pond for soaking hemp and therefore do not see Guanxi.” The monk asked, “What is Guanxi?” Guanxi replied, “Catch the arrow quickly.”

Another monk asked Huanglong, “I have long heard the name Huanglong, but on arriving here I see only a red-banded snake.” Long replied, “You see only the red-banded snake and therefore do not see Huanglong.” The monk asked, “What is Huanglong?” Long replied, “It trails on at great length.” The monk asked, “What if it suddenly encounters a golden-winged garuda?” Long replied, “Its life would be hard to preserve.” The monk asked, “Then it would be eaten by the bird?” Long replied, “Thank you for the offering.”

This is establishing solitary peril. It is right as far as it goes, but it cannot avoid wasted effort; it is not equal to Zhaozhou’s ordinary way. Therefore Xuedou says, “Who said that catching the arrow was labor spent in vain.” For now, set Guanxi and Huanglong aside. When Zhaozhou says, “It ferries donkeys across; it ferries horses across,” how do you understand it? Try to discern!

CASE 53: BAIZHANG AND THE WILD DUCKS

POINTER: Nothing is concealed throughout the entire realm; the complete pivotal activity is uniquely revealed. When touched, it does not become obstructed; clearly there is a means of emergence. Beneath each phrase there is nothing partial; every one contains the intent to kill. Tell me, where did the ancients ultimately come to rest? Try to bring it forth!

PUBLIC CASE: Mazu and Baizhang were walking in the garden when they saw a flock of wild ducks fly past. Mazu asked, “What is that?” Baizhang replied, “Wild ducks.” Mazu asked, “Where have they gone?” Baizhang replied, “They have flown past.” Mazu immediately seized Baizhang by the nostrils and twisted hard. Baizhang cried out in pain. Mazu said, “When did they ever fly past?”

EXPLANATION: Viewed with the true eye, it was indeed Baizhang who possessed the true cause. Mazu stirred up waves where there was no wind. If you wish to serve as teachers of Buddhas and patriarchs, investigate Baizhang; if you wish to save yourselves but cannot, investigate Mazu. Observe how the ancients, throughout the twelve hours of the day, were never once apart from this.

Baizhang left home while still young and studied morality, concentration, and wisdom. When Mazu was spreading the teaching in Nanchang, he wholeheartedly went to rely upon him and served as his attendant for twenty years. Only when he returned for further inquiry and heard Mazu’s shout did he attain great awakening.

Nowadays some say, “Originally there is nothing to awaken to; making a gate of awakening merely establishes this affair.” If you hold such an understanding, you are like worms in a lion’s body devouring the lion’s flesh. Have you not heard the ancients say, “If the source is not deep, the stream will not run far; if wisdom is not great, one’s vision will not reach far”? If you understand this as something artificially established, how could the Buddha Dharma have survived to the present day?

Observe Mazu and Baizhang walking in the garden when they saw a flock of wild ducks fly past. Could Mazu really not have known they were wild ducks? Why, then, did he ask in that way? Tell me, where did his meaning lie? Baizhang knew only how to follow behind. Mazu seized Baizhang by the nose and twisted it hard. Unable to endure the pain, Baizhang cried out. Mazu said, “When did they ever fly away?” Baizhang immediately awakened.

Nowadays some misunderstand this: as soon as they are questioned, they cry out. Ridiculous—they cannot leap free. A master of the school, when helping people, must instruct them so that they see through to the utmost. If they have not yet understood, he does not mind cutting his hand on the sharp edge; he cares only that they clearly realize this matter. Thus it is said, “If you understand, you enjoy it halfway along the road; if you do not understand, it circulates as conventional truth.” At that time, had Mazu not seized and held him fast, it would merely have become something circulating as conventional truth.

One must turn around upon seeing an object or encountering a condition and be made to return to oneself, so that throughout the twelve hours there is no deficiency anywhere. This is called the ground of the nature made clear. If you merely cling to grasses and lodge in trees, recognizing what is before the donkey and behind the horse, what use is that? Observe how Mazu and Baizhang functioned in this way. Though it seemed lucid and keen, it did not abide in lucidity and keenness. Baizhang could not endure the pain and cried out. If you see in this way, nothing in the entire realm is concealed; each and every thing is fully manifest. Thus it is said, “When one place is penetrated, a thousand and ten thousand places are penetrated simultaneously.”

The next day, Mazu ascended the seat. Just as the assembly gathered, Baizhang came forward and rolled up the sitting mat. Mazu descended from the seat and returned to the abbot’s quarters. He asked Baizhang, “I had just ascended the seat and had not yet spoken the Dharma. Why did you roll up the mat?” Baizhang replied, “Yesterday, Your Reverence seized my nose and it hurt.” Mazu asked, “Yesterday, where did you direct your attention?” Baizhang replied, “Today my nose no longer hurts.” Mazu said, “You deeply understand today’s affair.” Baizhang bowed and returned to the attendants’ quarters, where he wept. A fellow attendant asked, “Why are you crying?” Baizhang said, “Go and ask the Master.” The attendant went and asked Mazu.

Mazu said, “Go ask him and see.” The attendant returned to the quarters and asked Baizhang. Baizhang laughed heartily. The attendant said, “A moment ago you were crying; why are you laughing now?” Baizhang said, “A moment ago I cried; now I laugh.” Observe how, after awakening, Baizhang rolled freely along and could not be stopped; naturally, he was alive and agile. Xuedou brought it out in verse:

VERSE: Dã áp tử

Tri hà hứ

Mã Tổ kiến lai tương cộng ngữ

Thoại tận sơn vân hải nguyệt tình

Y tiền bất hội hoàn phi khứ.

Dục phi khứ

Khước bả trụ

Đạo! Đạo!

TRANSLATION: The wild ducks—

How many are they?

Mazu saw them and spoke with him;

Their conversation exhausted the heart of mountain clouds and the moon over the sea.

As before, not understanding, they flew away again.

About to fly away,

He seized and held him fast.

Speak! Speak!

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: At the very outset Xuedou versifies, “The wild ducks—how many are they?” Tell me, were there many or few? “Mazu saw them and spoke with him” versifies Mazu asking Baizhang, “What is that?” and Baizhang replying, “A flock of wild ducks.” “Their conversation exhausted the heart of mountain clouds and the moon over the sea” versifies Mazu asking Baizhang, “Where have they gone?” For Baizhang’s sake, Mazu’s intent naturally emerged in its entirety. Baizhang still did not understand and again said, “They have flown away.” He erred twice over.

With the two lines, “About to fly away, he seized and held him fast,” Xuedou passes sentence according to the case. He then says, “Speak! Speak!” This is where Xuedou turns himself around. Tell me, what should be said? If you cry out in pain, you are mistaken. If you do not cry out in pain, how will you understand? Nevertheless, although Xuedou’s verse is truly skillful, he too cannot leap free.

CASE 54: YUNMEN AGAIN SPREADS BOTH HANDS, PALMS UP

POINTER: Escape birth and death; turn the mechanism. At ease, cut through iron and sever nails; wherever you go, cover heaven and cover earth. Tell me, whose activity is this? Let us bring it up and see.

PUBLIC CASE: Yunmen asked a monk, “Where have you just come from?” The monk replied, “West Chan.” Yunmen asked, “What words or phrases have there been at West Chan lately?” The monk immediately spread both hands, palms up. Yunmen slapped him. The monk said, “My topic of conversation is still here.” Yunmen again spread both hands, palms up. The monk could say nothing. Yunmen then struck him.

EXPLANATION: Yunmen asked the monk where he had just come from, and the monk replied, “West Chan.” This was direct, face-to-face talk, like a flash of lightning. Yunmen asked what words or phrases there had been lately; this too was merely ordinary conversation. This monk was truly an adept: he turned the matter around to test Yunmen and immediately spread both hands, palms up. If an ordinary person encountered this test, his hands and feet would at once be thrown into confusion. Yunmen possessed the mechanism of sparks struck from stone and a flash of lightning; he immediately slapped him.

The monk said, in effect, “The strike is appropriate, but what can you do about my topic of conversation?” This monk had a place to turn himself around. Therefore Yunmen let go and spread both hands, palms up. The monk could say nothing. Yunmen then struck him. Observe how Yunmen was himself an adept: taking one step, he knew where that step would land. He skillfully looked ahead and was also proficient at looking behind, never losing the proper course. This monk was skillful only at looking ahead, not at looking behind.

VERSE: Hổ đầu hổ vĩ nhất thời thâu

Lẫm lẫm oai phong tứ bách châu

Khước vấn bất tri hà thái hiểm

Sư vân phóng quá nhất trước.

TRANSLATION: The tiger’s head and tiger’s tail are gathered in at once;

Awe-inspiring authority fills the four hundred prefectures.

If one should ask why it was so perilous,

The Master says, “I let him off by one move.”

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou’s verse on this exchange is very easy to understand. Its essential meaning simply celebrates Yunmen’s sharp activity. Thus it says, “The tiger’s head and tiger’s tail are gathered in at once.” An ancient said, “Block the tiger’s head and gather in the tiger’s tail; the first phrase reveals the essential principle.” Xuedou merely passes sentence according to the case, praising Yunmen for being skilled at blocking the tiger’s head and also adept at seizing the tiger’s tail.

The monk spread both hands, palms up, and Yunmen immediately struck him: this was blocking the tiger’s head. Yunmen spread both hands, palms up; the monk could say nothing, and Yunmen immediately struck him: this was seizing the tiger’s tail. Head and tail were both gathered in, his eyes like shooting stars; it came naturally, like sparks struck from stone or a flash of lightning. Thus he attained “Awe-inspiring authority fills the four hundred prefectures,” making the wind whistle throughout the whole world.

“If one should ask why it was so perilous”—there truly was a perilous place. Xuedou says, “I let him off by one move.” Tell me, what would it be like if he did not let him off now? Everyone throughout the great earth should receive a beating. Chan practitioners nowadays all say, “When Yunmen spread both hands, palms up, one should likewise have given him the treatment appropriate to his original station.” It resembles it, indeed, but it is not yet right. Yunmen could not merely stop after saying that to you; there was still another matter.

CASE 55: DAOWU GOES TO A HOUSE TO OFFER CONDOLENCES

POINTER: Concealed and intimate, wholly true; recognize and verify it directly. Treading upon the water, turn things around; right there, take responsibility. Amid sparks struck from stone and a flash of lightning, cut off deluded distinctions. As for blocking the tiger’s head and seizing the tiger’s tail, or standing like a wall ten thousand fathoms high, set these aside. If one opens a single road, is there still a place where one can act for the sake of others? Let us bring it up and see.

CASE: Daowu and Jianyuan went to a Buddhist household to conduct funeral offerings. Jianyuan tapped the coffin and said, “Alive or dead?” Daowu said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan asked, “Why will you not say?” Daowu replied, “I will not say! I will not say!” As master and disciple were returning and had reached the middle of the road, Jianyuan said, “Venerable, quickly tell me.

If you do not, I will strike you.” Daowu said, “Strike if you will; as for speaking, I will not speak.” Jianyuan immediately struck him. After Daowu passed away, Jianyuan went to Shishuang and related the former exchange. Shishuang said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan asked, “Why will you not say?” Shishuang said, “I will not say!

I will not say!” At these words, Jianyuan immediately awakened. One day, Jianyuan took a hoe and walked across the Dharma hall from east to west and from west to east. Shishuang asked, “What are you doing?” Jianyuan said, “I am searching for the sacred bones of my late master.” Shishuang said, “The waters surge far and wide, and the waves rise to inundate the heavens.

What sacred bones of your late master are you searching for?” (Xuedou’s interjected remark: “Blue sky! Blue sky!”) Jianyuan said, “One should exert oneself well.” (Taiyuan Fu said, “The sacred bones of the late master still remain.”)

EXPLANATION: Daowu and Jianyuan went to a Buddhist household to conduct funeral offerings. Jianyuan tapped the coffin and said, “Alive or dead?” Daowu said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” If you can enter beneath this phrase and know how to return beneath these words, this very place is the pivotal point for penetrating and escaping birth and death. If you cannot do so, you will repeatedly miss it even when face-to-face with it.

Observe how the ancients, whether walking, standing, lying down, or sitting, never hesitated to keep this matter in mind. As soon as they arrived at the home of the bereaved, Jianyuan tapped the coffin and said, “Alive or dead?” Without moving by so much as a hair’s breadth, Daowu replied, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan missed it face-to-face, pursued the words and phrases, and asked why he would not say.

Daowu said, “I will not say! I will not say!” Daowu might truly be called one whose sincere heart was laid bare in every fragment, meeting error with error. Jianyuan still did not awaken.

When they reached the middle of the road on their return, he again said, “Venerable, quickly tell me. If you do not, I will strike you.” What did this fellow know of good and bad? Thus it is said that a good heart does not necessarily receive a good reward.

With the same earnest, grandmotherly kindness as before, Daowu told him, “Strike if you will; as for speaking, I will not speak.” Jianyuan immediately struck him. Even so, it was Jianyuan who won this round. Daowu shed blood for him drop by drop in this way, yet Jianyuan still did not understand.

After being struck by him, Daowu told him, “You should leave. I fear that if the monastery’s administrator learns of this matter, it will bring calamity upon you.” By secretly telling Jianyuan to depart, Daowu showed compassion in the highest degree.

Later, Jianyuan went to a small monastery and heard a lay practitioner reciting the Universal Gateway chapter: “For those who can be liberated by the body of a bhiksu, he immediately manifests the body of a bhiksu and teaches the Dharma to them…” Suddenly, he attained great awakening. The master said, “Formerly, I wrongly blamed my late master. How could I have known that this matter does not lie in words and phrases?” An ancient said, “An unfathomable great person is spun around by the current of words.” There are people who interpret this through conceptual understanding, saying, “When Daowu said, ‘I will not say!

I will not say!’ he had already spoken. This is called striking the back and causing a somersault, leaving others unable to track him down.” If one understands it that way, how could one ever find peace? For one whose feet tread the solid ground of reality, there is not even a hair’s breadth of separation.

It is like the story of the Seven Wise Women strolling through the Shita Forest. One of them pointed to a corpse and asked, “The corpse is here; where is the person?” The eldest sister replied, “What? What?” On hearing this, they all realized the patient acceptance of the non-arising of dharmas.

Now say: how many are there? A thousand or ten thousand are only this one. Later, Jianyuan went to Shishuang and related the former incident.

Just as before, Shishuang said, “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Jianyuan asked, “Why will you not say?” Shishuang said, “I will not say! I will not say!” Jianyuan immediately awakened. On another day, Jianyuan took a hoe and walked before the Dharma hall from east to west and from west to east, intending to present his understanding.

Shishuang asked, “What are you doing?” Jianyuan said, “I am searching for the sacred bones of my late master.” Shishuang immediately cut him off at the heels, saying, “Here with me, the waters surge far and wide, and the waves rise to inundate the heavens. What sacred bones of your late master are you searching for?” Since Jianyuan was searching for the sacred bones of his late master, why did Shishuang speak in this way?

Arriving here is the place of “I will not say alive, and I will not say dead.” Only by advancing directly through these words will you know the complete functioning and its application from beginning to end. If you give rise to theories and seek understanding through thought, it will be difficult to see. Jianyuan said, “One should exert oneself well.” Observe how, after awakening, the master’s words were naturally extraordinary.

The fragment of bone atop Daowu’s crown was golden in color; when struck, it immediately gave forth the sound of bronze. Xuedou interjected, “Blue sky! Blue sky!” His meaning lies on both sides.

Taiyuan Fu said, “The sacred bones of the late master still remain.” His words were naturally steady and fitting.

This passage simultaneously presents one side. Say, what is the crucial point of awakening? What is the place where one should exert oneself? Have you not heard it said, “When one place is penetrated, a thousand and ten thousand places are penetrated simultaneously”? If you can penetrate at “I will not say! I will not say!” you sit there having cut off the tongues of everyone under heaven. If you cannot penetrate it, you must investigate for yourself and awaken for yourself. You should not let the days pass idly. What a pity for the passing days and months! Xuedou versified it:

VERSE: Rabbits and horses have horns;

Oxen and sheep have no horns.

Not a hair, not a thread—

Like mountains, like peaks.

The sacred bones of pure gold still remain today;

With white waves surging to the heavens, where can they be placed?

There is nowhere to place them;

The single sandal that returned westward was once lost.

TRANSLATION: Rabbits and horses have horns;

Oxen and sheep have no horns.

Not a hair, not a thread—

Like mountains, like peaks.

The sacred bones of pure gold still remain today;

With waves surging to the heavens, where can they come to rest?

There is nowhere to rest;

The single sandal returning westward was once lost.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou alone knows how to add footnotes. The master was a descendant of Yunmen; generally, within a single phrase he fully forged the three phrases. Where it was difficult to speak, he spoke through it; where it could not be revealed, he revealed it.

Addressing the crucial point directly, he versified: “Rabbits and horses have horns; oxen and sheep have no horns.” Now say: why do rabbits and horses have horns? Why do oxen and sheep have no horns? If you can perceive the preceding words, only then will you know that Xuedou had a way of helping people.

Some misunderstand and say, “Not speaking is speaking; having no phrase is having a phrase. Rabbits and horses have no horns, yet he says that they have horns; oxen and sheep have horns, yet he says that they have no horns.” This truly has nothing to do with it. Do they not know that the ancients transformed in a thousand ways and ten thousand forms, displaying such supernatural powers solely to smash apart this ghostly spirit cave of yours?

If you penetrate it, not a single word is needed to settle the matter. “Rabbits and horses have horns; oxen and sheep have no horns. Not a hair, not a thread—like mountains, like peaks.” These four lines are like a precious mani jewel, which Xuedou spits out whole before your face.

What follows merely renders judgment according to the facts of the case. “The sacred bones of pure gold still remain today; with waves surging to the heavens, where can they come to rest?” This versifies the words of Shishuang and Taiyuan Fu. Why is there nowhere to rest?

“The single sandal that returned westward was once lost.” The numinous tortoise drags its tail: this is where Xuedou turns himself around for the sake of others. An ancient said, “He investigates the living phrase, not the dead phrase.” Since even that single spark has already been lost, why do they still contend with one another?

CASE 56: QINSHAN’S SINGLE ARROW SHATTERS THE BARRIER

POINTER: The Buddhas have never appeared in the world, nor has there ever been a single Dharma to give to people. The Patriarch never came from the West, nor did he ever transmit mind by means of mind. It is only because people of the time do not understand and seek outwardly, never realizing that beneath their own heels lies a great matter of causes and conditions that even a thousand sages could not find by searching. Just now, is seeing seeing or not seeing? Is hearing hearing or not hearing? Is speaking speaking or not speaking? Is knowing knowing or not knowing? From where can this be attained? If you have not yet penetrated it, try to understand it amid the cave of entangling vines. Consider this case.

CASE: The Chan traveler Liang Sui asked Qinshan, “What is it like when a single arrow breaks through three barriers?” Qinshan said, “Bring out the master within the three barriers and let me see him.” Liang said, “If that is so, once an error is known, it must be corrected.” Qinshan said, “What further occasion are you waiting for?” Liang said, “A fine arrow has failed to strike the target,” and immediately began to leave. Qinshan called, “Acarya, come back!” Liang turned his head. Qinshan seized and held him, saying, “Set aside the matter of one arrow breaking through three barriers. Try shooting an arrow for Qinshan and let me see.” Liang hesitated. Qinshan struck him seven times and said, “Let this fellow doubt for thirty years.”

COMMENTARY: The Chan traveler Liang Sui was truly a valiant general. In Qinshan’s hands he turned left and wheeled right, causing Qinshan to drop his whip and lose his reins; yet in the end, regrettably, his bow broke and his arrow was lost. Even so, General Li had his own praiseworthy reputation; not being enfeoffed as a marquis was no concern.

In this case there is an exit and an entry, a capture and a release. Facing the moment, one sees the subject; seeing the subject, one acts swiftly in accord with the moment. It never falls into existence or nonexistence, gain or loss. This is called the mysterious mechanism. The moment you see even the slightest trace of force in it, there is already a place where you stumble.

This monk was also an inspired Chan monk; the question he posed was truly startling. Qinshan was an accomplished master of the school and immediately knew where the question fell. To the question, “What is it like when a single arrow penetrates three barriers?” Qinshan’s intended reply was: Set aside whether you can shoot; first bring out the master within the three barriers and let me see him. Liang said, “If that is so, once an error is known, it must be corrected.” This was indeed extraordinary. Qinshan said, “What further occasion are you waiting for?” Observe their exchange: there was not the slightest deficiency or gap in Qinshan’s questioning.

Then the Chan traveler Liang said, “A fine arrow has failed to strike the target,” brushed off his robe, and departed. As soon as Qinshan heard him speak this way, he called, “Acarya, come back!” As expected, the Chan traveler Liang could not hold firm and turned his head. Qinshan seized and held him, saying, “Set aside the matter of one arrow penetrating three barriers. Shoot an arrow for Qinshan and let me see.” Liang hesitated. Qinshan struck him seven times, then followed this with an incantatory sentence: “Let this fellow doubt for thirty years.”

Nowadays some Chan followers invariably say, “Why did he not strike him eight times or six times? Why only seven?” When Qinshan said, “Shoot an arrow for Qinshan and let me see,” he immediately struck him. This resembles it, but resemblance alone is not yet correctness. To understand this case, you must harbor not the least comparative reasoning within your breast and must transcend words and speech; only then will there be a single phrase that breaks through three barriers and a place from which to shoot the arrow. If right and wrong remain, it cannot be found through searching.

At that time, had this monk been a true fellow, Qinshan himself would have been in danger. Since the monk could not carry out this command, Qinshan could not avoid acting contrary to the usual order. Tell me: ultimately, who is the master within the barriers? See how Xuedou versifies it:

VERSE:

For you I bring forth the master within the barriers;

Those who shoot arrows must not be reckless.

Keep the eye, and the ears are surely deaf;

Discard the ears, and both eyes are blind.

How pitiful—one arrow breaks through three barriers;

Perfectly clear is the road behind the arrow.

Do you not see?

Xuansha had a saying:

A great man, before heaven, is the Patriarch of mind.

TRANSLATION:

For you I bring forth the master within the barriers;

Those who shoot arrows must leave no opening.

Keep the eye—alas, the ears are deaf;

Discard the ears—alas, both eyes are blind.

How pitiful—one arrow breaks through the three barriers;

Truly clear is the road behind the arrow.

Do you not see?

Xuansha had a saying—alas:

A great man, before heaven, is the Patriarch of mind.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Several lines of this verse were taken from a verse by Guizong. In former times, Guizong composed the verse and therefore received the name Guizong. Within the Chan school, this is called expressing the essential principle.

Later, when Tongan heard this story, he said, “Master Liang was skilled at shooting arrows, but he did not know how to hit the target.” A monk asked, “How can one hit the target?” Tongan said, “Who is the master within the barriers?” Later, a monk related this to Qinshan. Qinshan said, “Even as he was, Master Liang still could not escape Qinshan’s mouth. Even so, Tongan was not well-intentioned.”

Xuedou says, “For you I bring forth the master within the barriers.” Opening the eyes is correct; closing the eyes is also correct. Form and formlessness alike are cut into three pieces. As for the line, “Those who shoot arrows must not be reckless,” if one is skilled at shooting arrows, one is not reckless; if one is unskilled, the very act of shooting is reckless.

Regarding the two lines, “Keep the eye, and the ears are surely deaf; discard the ears, and both eyes are blind,” tell me: why are the ears deaf when the eye is kept? Why are both eyes blind when the ears are discarded? These words can be penetrated only when there is neither keeping nor discarding. If there is keeping and discarding, they are difficult to see.

The two lines, “How pitiful—one arrow breaks through three barriers; perfectly clear is the road behind the arrow,” refer to the Chan traveler Liang asking what it is like when one arrow breaks through three barriers, and Qinshan saying, “Bring out the master within the barriers and let me see him.” Even Tongan’s later case is entirely the road behind the arrow. Ultimately, what should one do? “Do you not see? Xuansha had a saying: A great man, before heaven, is the Patriarch of mind.” Ordinarily, mind is regarded as the ultimate principle of the ancestral school. Why, then, does it say here that before heaven and earth had yet arisen, he was already the Patriarch of this mind? Only when you clearly know this time and season can you understand the master within the barriers.

Indeed, the road behind the arrow is perfectly clear. If you wish to hit the target, there is plainly a road behind the arrow. Tell me: what is the road behind the arrow? You must bring forth all your vitality and splendor to attain it.

The line, “A great man, before heaven, is the Patriarch of mind,” was often used by Xuansha to instruct the assembly, but it comes from Guizong’s verse. Xuedou mistakenly employed it as a saying of Xuansha. Nowadays, students take this mind to be the ancestral source; even if they were to investigate until the Buddha Maitreya appeared in the world, they still would not understand. For a truly great man, mind is still a descendant. Before heaven and earth were divided, it was already secondary. Tell me: at that very moment, what is prior to heaven and earth?

CASE 57: ZHAOZHOU’S HOUSEHOLD FIELD HAND

POINTER: Before you have penetrated it, it is like a silver mountain and an iron wall. Once you have penetrated it, you yourself have always been the iron wall and silver mountain. Should someone ask, “What must one do?” simply tell him: If within this you can display a mechanism and perceive a scene, sitting astride and cutting off the crucial ford so that neither ordinary people nor sages can pass, even then it is not something outside your own share. If you have not yet attained this, observe the traces of the ancients.

CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “The Supreme Way is not difficult; it only rejects choosing and picking. What is it not to choose or pick?” Zhaozhou replied, “Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am the most honored.” The monk said, “This is still choosing and picking.” Zhaozhou said, “You household field hand! Where is the choosing and picking?” The monk could not answer.

EXPLANATION: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.” These are the opening two lines of the Third Patriarch’s Inscription on Faith in Mind. Many people misunderstand them. Why?

The supreme Way is originally neither difficult nor not difficult; it is simply that it shuns choosing and rejecting. If you understand it in this way, even in ten thousand years you will not have seen it in a dream. Zhaozhou often used this saying to question people.

This monk took the saying and questioned Zhaozhou in return. If one seeks upon the words and phrases, this monk’s action shakes heaven and moves the earth. But if it is not in the words and phrases, then what?

Go and investigate for another thirty years. Only when this door bolt can be turned may one hope to open the door. To pluck a tiger’s whiskers, one must possess the means proper to one’s fundamental duty.

This monk, heedless of danger and death, dared to pluck the tiger’s whiskers, saying, “There is still choosing and rejecting.” Zhaozhou immediately stopped his mouth, saying, “You country bumpkin! Where is the choosing and rejecting?” Had anyone else been questioned in this way, he would at once have been seen floundering helplessly. Who would have expected that this old fellow was an adept?

Where movement was impossible, he moved at once; where turning was impossible, he turned at once. If you can penetrate this, all venomous words and phrases, and even the thousand errors, myriad forms, and frivolous theories of the world, are all the finest ghee. Only when you arrive at the real place will you see Zhaozhou’s sincere heart, piece by piece.

“Country bumpkin” is an insult used by people of Futang village for someone who seems witless. The monk said, “There is still choosing and rejecting.” Zhaozhou said, “You country bumpkin! Where is the choosing and rejecting?” The eyes of a master of the School must reach this point, like a golden-winged garuda parting the sea, seizing a dragon, and swallowing it.

Xuedou versified it:

VERSE: Deep as the sea,

Firm as a mountain;

Mosquitoes and gnats sporting in a fierce gale,

Mayflies and ants shaking an iron pillar.

Choosing, ah! Rejecting, ah!

Before the hall, hang up the drum.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou comments with the two lines, “Deep as the sea, firm as a mountain.” The monk said, “There is still choosing and rejecting.” Xuedou says that this monk was like “mosquitoes and gnats sporting in a fierce gale, mayflies and ants shaking an iron pillar.” Xuedou praises his great daring. Why? Zhaozhou was one who acted from above, yet the monk dared to speak to him in this way.

Zhaozhou did not spare him either, saying, “You country bumpkin! Where is the choosing and rejecting?” Is this not a fierce gale and an iron pillar? With the final two lines, “Choosing, ah!

Rejecting, ah! Before the hall, hang up the drum,” Xuedou raises it up at the end and shows a way to life. If you know it with perfect clarity, afterward you will naturally comprehend it yourself.

Why? Have you not heard it said, “If you wish to attain intimacy, do not take a question and ask it again”? Therefore, “Before the hall, hang up the drum.”

CASE 58: ZHAOZHOU IS PERPLEXED

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “‘The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.’ Is this not a nest and den for people of the present time?” Zhaozhou replied, “Someone once asked me this, and even after five years I still remain perplexed.”

EXPLANATION: Throughout his life, Zhaozhou did not employ the staff or the shout, yet what he employed surpassed the staff and the shout. This monk’s question was exceedingly unusual; had it not been Zhaozhou, it would have been difficult to answer him. Because Zhaozhou was an adept, he merely said to him, “Someone once asked me this, and even after five years I still remain perplexed.” The place of the question is a cliff rising a thousand fathoms; the place of the answer is no less formidable.

If you understand it in this way, you meet it directly. If you do not understand it in this way, do not begin calculating principles and doctrines. Have you not heard of the venerable Zongdao, who resided at Touzi?

While he was still in Xuedou’s assembly serving as a records secretary, Xuedou instructed him to investigate, “The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting,” and at this point he had an awakening. One day Xuedou asked, “What is the meaning of ‘The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting’?” Zong said, “Beast! Beast!” Later, when Zong lived in seclusion at Touzi, whenever he went to serve as abbot, he wrapped his straw sandals together with the scriptures in his kasaya.

A monk asked, “What is the essential style of the venerable Dao’s School?” Zong replied, “The kasaya wraps the straw sandals.” The monk asked, “I do not yet know what this means.” Zong said, “Under bare feet, all is thorns and brambles.” Therefore it is said that making offerings to the Buddha does not depend on much incense. If you pass beyond this, then capturing or releasing is up to me. Since one question and one answer are clearly complete and manifest, why did Zhaozhou say that he was perplexed?

Tell me: Is this a nest and den for people of the present time? Did Zhaozhou answer him from within the nest and den, or from outside the nest and den? You must know that this matter does not lie in words and phrases.

When someone can trust it through to the bones and marrow, he is like a dragon meeting water, like a tiger relying on the mountain.

VERSE: The elephant king trumpets,

The lion roars.

A flavorless discourse

Stops people’s mouths.

South, North, East, and West—

The crow flies, the rabbit runs.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Zhaozhou said, “Someone once asked me this, and even after five years I still remain perplexed.” This is like “the elephant king trumpets, the lion roars.” As for the last four lines, “A flavorless discourse stops people’s mouths. South, North, East, and West—the crow flies, the rabbit runs”: if Xuedou had not had this final line, where would there have been a Xuedou? Since the crow flies and the rabbit runs, tell me: ultimately, where do Zhaozhou, Xuedou, and this mountain monk fall?

CASE 59: ZHAOZHOU ASKS, “WHY DIDN’T YOU QUOTE IT ALL?”

INTRODUCTION: Covering heaven and embracing earth, transcending sages and surpassing ordinary beings, atop the hundred grasses one points out the wondrous mind of nirvana; within a forest of weapons one determines the lifeline of a Chan monk. Tell me: through whose gracious power can one act in this way? Let us see it brought forth.

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Zhaozhou, “‘The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.’ As soon as there are words, there is choosing and rejecting. How do you, Master, teach people?” Zhaozhou said, “Why didn’t you quote this saying in full?” The monk said, “I remember only that much.” Zhaozhou said, “It is simply: ‘The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.’”

EXPLANATION: Zhaozhou said, “It is simply: ‘The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.’” It was like striking stones and flashing fire, like a bolt of lightning; he held the monk’s life and death in his grasp and attained such freedom. Everywhere people say, “Zhaozhou possessed a peerless manner of debate.” Zhaozhou ordinarily instructed the assembly with this passage: “The supreme Way is not difficult; it only shuns choosing and rejecting.

As soon as there are words, there is choosing and rejecting; there is clarity. This old monk does not abide within clarity. Do you still cherish and preserve it or not?” 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 said, “Since you do not know, Master, 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.” Later, this monk seized upon that opening and went to question Zhaozhou. His question was indeed extraordinary, yet it was still merely an activity of mind. Another person could have done nothing with him, but Zhaozhou was an adept and immediately said, “Why didn’t you quote this saying in full?” The monk also knew how to turn himself around and exhale; he immediately said, “I remember only that much,” as though everything had already been arranged.

Following the sound, Zhaozhou picked it up and answered at once, without needing to deliberate. The ancients called this continuity, and it too is exceedingly difficult. A master distinguishes dragons from snakes and discerns good from bad; he is truly an adept fulfilling his fundamental duty.

Zhaozhou plucked out this monk’s eyeballs without confronting the sharp point or becoming entangled in deliberation; naturally, it was wondrous and skillful. You cannot call it an affirmative statement; you cannot call it a negative statement; nor can you call it a statement that is neither affirmative nor negative. It is apart from the four propositions and cuts off the hundred negations.

Why? If this matter is discussed, it is like striking stones and flashing fire, like a bolt of lightning: you must look quickly to see it. If you hesitate and deliberate, you cannot avoid losing your body and forfeiting your life.

Xuedou versified it:

VERSE: Water poured upon it does not cling;

Wind blowing upon it cannot enter.

The tiger strides, the dragon moves;

Ghosts wail, spirits weep.

A head three feet long—who knows whose it is?

Facing one another without a word, he stands on one leg.

TRANSLATION: Water poured upon it does not cling;

Wind blowing upon it cannot enter.

The tiger strides, the dragon moves;

Ghosts lament, spirits weep.

A head three feet long—who knows whose it is?

Face to face, without a word, he stands on one leg.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the four lines, “Water poured upon it does not cling; wind blowing upon it cannot enter; the tiger strides, the dragon moves; ghosts lament, spirits weep,” there is scarcely any place for you to sink your teeth. These four lines of verse are Zhaozhou’s answer, like a dragon soaring and a tiger leaping. This monk gained only a great occasion for shame.

Not only this monk—even ghosts lament and spirits weep, like grass bending before the wind. The final two lines may indeed be called personally intimate: “A head three feet long—who knows whose it is? Face to face, without a word, he stands on one leg.” A monk once asked an ancient worthy, “What is the Buddha?” The ancient worthy replied, “A head three feet long and a neck two inches long.” Xuedou has taken this up and used it, but I do not know whether you understand.

This mountain monk does not understand either. In a single stroke, Xuedou has drawn Zhaozhou’s entire figure here. You must look closely and carefully.

CASE 60: YUNMEN’S STAFF TRANSFORMS INTO A DRAGON

INTRODUCTORY WORD: The Buddhas and sentient beings have never differed from the beginning; how could mountains and rivers differ from one’s own self? Why, then, have they become confused into two sides? If you can turn the critical phrase and sit astride the vital crossing, you must not let it pass. Yet if you do not let it pass, the whole great earth is not worth a single grasp. What is the place where the critical phrase is turned? Let us see it brought forth.

PUBLIC CASE: Yunmen held up his staff, showed it to the assembly, and said, “The staff has transformed into a dragon and swallowed the whole cosmos. Where, then, are the mountains, rivers, and great earth?”

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

People today do not understand Yunmen’s special presentation. Instead, they say that mind is revealed through form and principle is displayed by means of things. Buddha Shakyamuni taught the Dharma for forty-nine years; he could not have been unaware of this doctrine. Why, then, did he hold up a flower while Kashyapa smiled faintly? That old fellow even said confusedly, “I possess the treasury of the true Dharma eye, the wondrous mind of nirvana, and entrust it to Mahakashyapa.” What need was there, moreover, to transmit the mind seal separately?

Since you are guests beneath the gate of the patriarchs, do you understand this separately transmitted mind? If there is a single thing within your breast, mountains, rivers, and the great earth manifest plainly before you. If there is not a single thing within your breast, outside there is not so much as a hair’s breadth. What need is there to speak of principle merging with wisdom or objects meeting with spirit? Why? Because when one thing is understood, all things are understood; when one thing is illuminated, all things are illuminated.

Changsha said, “Students of the Way who do not know the truth do so only because from ancient times they have recognized the conscious spirit. The root of birth and death throughout immeasurable kalpas, fools call it the original person.” Even if you suddenly shatter the skandhas and dhatus, so that body and mind are one suchness and nothing remains outside the body, you have still not gained even half. How much less can you speak of revealing mind through form or displaying principle by means of things?

An ancient said, “As soon as a single mote of dust arises, the whole great earth is completely contained within it.” Tell me, which mote of dust is this? If you know this mote of dust, you know the staff. The moment you grasp the staff and raise it, you immediately see its wondrous function operating freely in every direction. Speaking like this has already become entangling vines; how much more so when it transforms into a dragon!

Treasury Master Qing said, “Do the 5,048 fascicles contain such talk?” Sometimes Yunmen brought forth the staff at the point of total dynamic action and great function, acting for others with complete vitality. Bajiao instructed the assembly, “A Chan monk’s nostrils are entirely upon the tip of his staff.” Yongjia also said, “It is not a matter of extinguishing form or the empty transmission of affairs; the jeweled staff of the Tathagata still retains its traces.”

Long ago, when the Tathagata was in the presence of Dipankara Buddha, he spread his hair over the mud to welcome that Buddha. Dipankara Buddha said, “A monastery should be built at this place.” At that moment, a heavenly prince planted a single blade of grass in the ground and said, “The monastery has been built.” Tell me, from where did he obtain this message?

The patriarch said, “Bear witness at the tip of the staff; accept responsibility beneath the shout.” Tell me, what is accepted? If someone suddenly asks, “What is the staff?” should you immediately turn a somersault? Should you immediately clap your hands? All of this is merely playing with the conscious spirit—laughable and utterly irrelevant. Xuedou brought it out in verse:

VERSE: This staff swallows the cosmos;

In vain is it said that peach blossoms are borne upon the waves.

When its tail is burned, it does not depend upon gathering clouds and rolling mists;

When its gills are exposed, why must it lose its gall and forfeit its soul?

It has been brought up;

Do you hear or not?

You must be completely cleansed and utterly free;

Cease all further bustle and confusion.

Seventy-two blows still constitute a lenient pardon;

One hundred and fifty—it would be hard to spare you.

TRANSLATION: This staff swallows the cosmos;

In vain is it said that peach blossoms are borne upon the waves.

When its tail is burned, how could it depend upon gathering clouds and rolling mists?

When its gills are exposed, must it really lose its gall and forfeit its soul?

It has been brought up;

Do you hear or not?

You must be swept clean and utterly at ease;

Cease all further bustle and confusion.

Seventy-two blows would still be a lenient pardon;

With one hundred and fifty, it would be hard to spare you.

The master took his staff, stepped down from the seat, and at once the entire assembly scattered and fled.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Yunmen acts for others with accommodation and flexibility; Xuedou acts for others by cutting straight through. Therefore, he entirely dismisses the transformation into a dragon and does not accept talk like that, saying only, “This staff swallows the cosmos.” Xuedou’s main intention was to stir people’s conceptual interpretations, so he said, “In vain is it said that peach blossoms are borne upon the waves.” There is no need for it to transform into a dragon.

At the Gate of Yu there are three tiers of waves. Every year, when the third month arrives, peach blossoms drift upon the current. Any great fish capable of swimming upstream and leaping over the waves immediately transforms into a dragon. Xuedou says that even transforming into a dragon is merely empty talk. “When its tail is burned, it does not depend upon gathering clouds and rolling mists”: when a fish succeeds in leaping through the Gate of Yu, heavenly fire naturally burns its tail, after which it gathers clouds, rolls up the mists, and flies away. Xuedou’s meaning is that even if it transforms into a dragon, the matter does not lie in gathering clouds and rolling mists.

“When its gills are exposed, why must it lose its gall and forfeit its soul?” The preface to the Qingliang Commentary says, “Even those who have accumulated the bodhisattva practices must still expose their gills at the Dragon Gate.” The main point is that the realm of the Avatamsaka cannot be reached by those of slight virtue and little wisdom. It is like a fish leaping through the Dragon Gate: if it fails to pass, its forehead is marked and it turns back, forced to suffer upon sandy banks and in shallow pools, its gills exposed. Xuedou means that once its forehead is marked and it turns back, it surely loses its gall and forfeits its soul.

“It has been brought up; do you hear or not?” He adds a footnote below, saying that in a single stroke he has swept everything clean for you. You “must be completely cleansed and utterly free; cease all further bustle and confusion.” If you again become bustling and confused, you lose the staff.

“Seventy-two blows still constitute a lenient pardon.” Xuedou spares you the heavy punishment and applies the light. An ancient said, “Seventy-two blows become one hundred and fifty.” People today misunderstand and calculate according to the numbers: logically it should be seventy-five blows, so why are there only seventy-two? They do not realize that the ancient’s meaning lies beyond the words. Therefore, it is said, “This matter is not contained within words and phrases,” so that later people may be spared from distorting it.

The reason Xuedou cites this is that even if you attain complete cleanliness and utter freedom, you rightly deserve seventy-two blows—and even that is a lenient pardon. If you do not attain this, it will be difficult to spare you one hundred and fifty blows. Having finished the verse in one stroke, he again took up his staff and dealt with everyone layer after layer. Although this was so, there was not a single person whose skin held blood.