佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

CASE 81: YAOSHAN’S DEER AMONG DEER

INTRODUCTORY WORD: Seizing the banners and snatching the drums, even the thousand sages cannot keep pace; sitting in command beyond all clamor, the myriad workings cannot approach. This is neither spiritual power and wondrous function, nor the fundamental essence naturally so. Tell me, on what basis can one attain such extraordinary distinction?

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Yaoshan, “The fields are parched and the grass is dry; deer roam in herds. How can one shoot the deer among deer?” Yaoshan said, “Watch the arrow!” The monk flung himself down at once. Yaoshan said, “Attendant, drag this dead fellow out.” The monk immediately ran away. Yaoshan said, “How many kinds of fellows are there who play with clods of earth?” Xuedou remarked, “Though alive at three steps, at five steps he must die.”

EXPLANATION: In the Caodong school, this public case is called “questioning by borrowing an affair”; it is also called “the question that distinguishes the host,” and is used to clarify the immediate occasion. Ordinary deer are easy to shoot; only the deer among deer, the king of the deer, is exceedingly difficult to shoot. Such a deer often goes to a rocky bank and sharpens its antlers until they are as keen as spear points, using its body to protect the herd, so that even a tiger does not dare approach.

This monk also seems rather alert; he brought this up to question Yaoshan in order to clarify the primary potential. Yaoshan said, “Watch the arrow!” A genuine master of the lineage is indeed extraordinary—like sparks struck from stone, like a flash of lightning. Have you not heard that when Sanping first went to consult Shigong, Shigong, as soon as he saw him coming, assumed the posture of drawing a bow and said, “Watch the arrow!” Sanping bared his chest and said, “Is this an arrow that kills people or an arrow that brings people to life?” Shigong plucked the bowstring three times.

Sanping immediately bowed. Shigong said, “For thirty years I have had one bow and two arrows; today I have managed to shoot only half a sage.” Then he broke the bow and arrows. Later, Sanping recounted this to Dadian.

Dadian said, “Since it was an arrow that brings people to life, why did you discern it upon the bowstring?” Sanping could not answer. Dadian said, “Thirty years from now, it will still be difficult to find anyone who can bring up these words.” Fadeng composed a verse:

Shigong’s strategy and Yaoshan’s are of one kind. Sanping had eyes upon the crown of his head and struck the mark beneath a single arrow. Likewise, Yaoshan said, “Watch the arrow!” and that monk immediately played the deer and flung himself down.

The monk seemed to be an adept, but he had a head and no tail: he had contrived a cage and trap intending to ensnare Yaoshan. Little did he know that Yaoshan was an adept who pressed him relentlessly and forced him to leave. Yaoshan said, “Attendant, drag this dead fellow out.” It was like deploying the battle formation once again.

The monk immediately ran away. That too was good; yet, right though it was, he was still not at ease, but remained fettered hand and foot. Therefore Yaoshan said, “How many kinds of fellows are there who play with clods of earth?” Had Yaoshan not uttered this final statement at that time, he would have been scrutinized by others for ten thousand generations.

Yaoshan said, “Watch the arrow!” and the monk immediately fell down. Tell me, did he understand or not? If he understood, why did Yaoshan call him a fellow who plays with clods of earth?

This is extremely severe. It is like the monk who asked Deshan, “I, this student, rely upon the sword Moye and wish to take the Master’s head. What then?” Deshan stretched out his neck and said, “Heh!” The monk said, “The Master’s head has fallen.” Deshan lowered his head and returned to the abbot’s quarters.

Again, Yantou asked a monk, “Where have you come from?” The monk replied, “From the Western Capital.” Yantou asked, “After Huang Chao’s rebellion, did you ever pick up a sword?” The monk replied, “I picked one up.” Yantou stretched out his neck and said, “Heh!” The monk said, “The Master’s head has fallen.” Yantou laughed aloud. Public cases of this kind are entirely devices for trapping tigers and are exactly comparable to this one.

Yaoshan paid him no heed; only because he saw through him did he press him and force him to leave. Xuedou said, “Though this monk was alive at three steps, at five steps he had to die.” Although the monk was very skilled at watching the arrow and flinging himself down, Yaoshan said, “Attendant, drag this dead fellow out.” The monk immediately ran away. Xuedou said, “I only fear he would not remain alive beyond three steps.” At that time, if he had leapt beyond five steps, no one in the world could have done anything to him.

When adepts meet, host and guest must interchange from beginning to end without allowing any interruption; only then do they have a share in freedom and ease. At that time this monk could not carry it through from beginning to end, and so Xuedou scrutinized him. In the section that follows, he also used those very words to compose his verse.

VERSE: The host within the host—

You, look well!

He shoots one arrow;

He runs three steps.

If alive at five steps,

He leads the herd in driving off the tiger.

The true eye has always been entrusted to the hunter.

TRANSLATION: The deer among deer—

You, look well!

He shoots one arrow;

He runs three steps.

If alive at five steps,

He leads the herd in driving off the tiger.

From here the true eye is entrusted to the hunter.

Xuedou shouted, “Watch the arrow!”

EXPLANATION OF THE VERSE: The two lines, “The deer among deer—you, look well!” mean that Chan travelers must possess the eye of the deer among deer, the antlers of the deer among deer, with devices and strategies. Then, even if they encounter a winged tiger with horns, they can preserve their whole body unharmed. At that time the monk flung himself down, declaring himself to be the deer: “He shoots one arrow; he runs three steps.” Yaoshan said, “Watch the arrow!” The monk immediately fell down.

Yaoshan told the attendant to drag this dead fellow out. The monk immediately ran away. This too was very good, yet he could run only three steps.

“If alive at five steps, he leads the herd in driving off the tiger.” Xuedou said that he feared the monk would have to die at five steps. If at that time he had leapt beyond five steps, he would have lived and could immediately have led the herd in driving off the tiger. The antlers of such a deer among deer are like spears, and even a tiger must flee in fear upon seeing them.

The king of the deer herd often leads the herd in chasing the tiger into another mountain. In the final part, Xuedou’s verse on Yaoshan also presents a point where one can respond to the occasion and find a way out: “From here the true eye is entrusted to the hunter.” Yaoshan was like a skilled hunter, and that monk was like the deer. Later, when Xuedou ascended the hall and cited these words, he condensed them into a single statement and shouted, “Watch the arrow!” Those seated and those standing were all unable to rise.

CASE 82: DALONG’S INDESTRUCTIBLE DHARMA BODY

INTRODUCTORY WORD: Only one who has eyes can see the thread at the tip of the pole; only an adept can discern the mechanism beyond convention. Tell me, what are the thread at the tip of the pole and the mechanism beyond convention? Try to present them and see.

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Dalong, “The physical body decays; what is the indestructible Dharma body?” Dalong replied, “The mountain flowers bloom like brocade; the stream water is clear as indigo.”

EXPLANATION: If one seeks this matter in words and speech, it is like raising a staff to strike the moon—it has nothing whatsoever to do with it. The ancients stated clearly: “If you wish to attain intimacy, do not bring a question to ask about it.” Why? The question is in the answer, and the answer is in the question.

This monk shouldered one load of recklessness and exchanged it for a load of confusion; the question he posed was exceedingly hollow and flawed. Were it not for Dalong, how could heaven and earth have been covered? He asked in that manner, and Dalong answered in that manner: a single unified form, without shifting even a hair’s breadth.

It was like seeing a rabbit and releasing the falcon, or seeing the hole and fitting the peg. Do the Three Vehicles and the twelve divisions of the teachings also have such a season? It is truly extraordinary, yet it is merely tasteless language that stops people’s mouths.

Therefore it is said: “A patch of white cloud conceals the mouth of the cave; how many birds returning forget their nests?” Some say it was merely a casual, empty reply. If you understand it that way, you are entirely one who extinguishes the lineage of the Shakyas. Do you not know that with one device and one circumstance, the ancients shattered cangues and broke chains, and that every phrase and every word embraced gold and harbored jade?

One who possesses the eye and brain of a Chan monk sometimes holds fast and sometimes lets go; illumination and function operate simultaneously; both person and circumstance are taken away; both are released and both gathered in; meeting the occasion, one penetrates and transforms. Without great function and great capacity, how could one understand such covering of heaven and earth? It is like a bright mirror upon its stand: when a Hu comes, a Hu appears; when a Han comes, a Han appears.

This case is of the same kind as “the peony flower,” yet its meaning is not the same. The monk’s question was unclear, but Dalong’s answer was excellent. A monk asked Yunmen, “What is it like when the leaves have fallen and the branches are bare?” Yunmen replied, “The body is exposed in the autumn wind.” This is called two arrowheads meeting point to point.

The monk asked Dalong, “When the physical body decays, what is the indestructible Dharma-body?” Dalong replied, “The mountain flowers bloom like brocade; the valley water is blue as indigo.” It is as though saying, “You go to Western Qin; I remain in Eastern Lu.” He went that way, but I do not go that way; this is wholly contrary to Yunmen. That fellow’s going that way is easy to see; this one’s not going that way is difficult to see.

Dalong’s three inches were indeed exceedingly close-sealed. Xuedou brought it out in verse:

VERSE: Vấn tằng bất tri

Đáp hoàn bất hội

Nguyệt lãnh phong cao

Cổ nham hàn cối

Kham tiếu lộ phùng đạt đạo nhân

Bất tương ngữ mặc đối

Thủ bả bạch ngọc tiên

Ly châu tận kích toái

Bất kích toái

Tăng hà lỗi

Quốc hữu hiến chương

Tam thiên điều tội.

TRANSLATION: The question was never understood;

The answer, again, was not comprehended.

The wind is high, the moon cold;

A wintry tree on an ancient crag.

How laughable—meeting one who has attained the Way upon the road,

Do not respond with speech or silence.

In his hand he grasps a white-jade whip

And smashes the luminous pearl to pieces.

If he does not smash it,

He adds yet another flaw.

The realm has its statutes:

Three thousand articles of offense.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou’s verse is very skillfully wrought. Previously, in his verse on Yunmen, he said: “The question already contains the source; the answer accords with it as well.” Here, however, it is otherwise. He says: “The question was never understood; the answer, again, was not comprehended.” Dalong’s answer, when viewed from the side, is decidedly extraordinary.

Clearly, no matter who asked in that manner, it was already spoiled before the question was even uttered. The Master’s answer fit the occasion and its demands with utmost precision: “The mountain flowers bloom like brocade; the valley water is blue as indigo.” Now, all of you, how do you understand Dalong’s meaning? Viewed from the side, the answer is truly extraordinary.

Therefore Xuedou brought it out in verse so that people might know, saying, “The wind is high, the moon cold,” and then grasping “a wintry tree on an ancient crag.” Tell me, how is this meaning to be understood? This is why it was said just now: “The flute without holes strikes precisely on the felt-covered clapper.” These four lines alone complete the verse. Xuedou, still fearing that people would generate rational interpretations, continued: “How laughable—meeting one who has attained the Way upon the road, do not respond with speech or silence.” This matter is not seeing, hearing, understanding, or knowing; nor is it thought or discrimination.

Therefore it is said: “Radiant and unconfined, its singular function relies on nothing; when meeting one who has attained the Way upon the road, do not respond with speech or silence.” This is a verse by Xiangyan that Xuedou quoted and employed. A monk asked Zhaozhou, “If one must not respond with speech or silence, I do not yet know what one should use to respond.” Zhaozhou replied, “Present the lacquerware tray.” This is the same as the phrase just cited; it does not fall into your emotional dusts or conceptual imaginings.

What is it like? It is like “grasping a white-jade whip in his hand and smashing the luminous pearl to pieces.” Thus, when the ancestral command is put into effect, the ten directions are cut off. This is an affair upon a sharp sword’s edge; one must possess such skillful action.

If one does not act in this way, one fails all the sages of old. Arriving here, there must not be even the slightest matter; then there is naturally a fine place—namely, the place of practice of the person who has gone beyond. If one does not smash it, a flaw will inevitably arise, and the tail will immediately be exposed.

Ultimately, what must be done? “The realm has its statutes: three thousand articles of offense.” The five punishments apply to three thousand offenses, of which the gravest is being unfilial. “Statutes” means laws and articles; all three thousand articles of offense are violated at once.

Why is this so? Only because one does not receive people through the fundamental matter. If it were Dalong, he certainly would not be like this.

CASE 83: YUNMEN—THE ANCIENT BUDDHA AND THE PILLAR

CASE: Yunmen instructed the assembly: “When an ancient Buddha communes with a pillar, which level of activity is this?” He answered himself: “Clouds rise over the Southern Mountain; rain falls on the Northern Mountain.”

EXPLANATION: Great Master Yunmen emerged from among more than eighty spiritual teachers. Seventy years after the Master entered quiescence, his stupa was opened, and his body was found to be as stately as before. His insight was clear and distinct, and his devices and circumstances flashed forth in an instant.

Whenever he uttered a phrase, spoke on his own, or spoke in another’s place, it was invariably lofty and sheer. This case is like stones striking and sparks flashing, like a bolt of lightning; truly, it is the coming forth of spirits and the entering of ghosts. Canon Librarian Qing said, “Does the entire great canon contain discourse of this kind?” Nowadays, most people make their livelihood within emotional interpretations, saying: “The Buddha is the Guiding Teacher of the Three Realms and the Compassionate Father of the four kinds of birth.

Since he is an ancient Buddha, why would he commune with a pillar?” If one understands it that way, one will ultimately be unable to fathom it. Some say that it lies within what is left unspoken. They do not know that the discourse of the ancestral teachers cuts off consciousness, emotional estimation, birth and death, and the dust of phenomena.

Upon entering the true position, not a single dharma remains. The moment you begin constructing principles and making calculations, your hands and feet are bound. Tell me, what was the ancient’s meaning?

Simply cause mind and circumstances to be one suchness, so that good and bad, right and wrong, cannot move it. To say it exists is acceptable; to say it does not exist is acceptable. To say there is a device is acceptable; to say there is no device is also acceptable.

Arriving here, beat after beat is entirely the command. My late teacher Wuzu said, “Throughout all time, Yunmen’s courage was slight. Were it this mountain monk, I would merely have told him it was the eighth level of activity.” Yunmen said, “When an ancient Buddha communes with a pillar, which level of activity is this?” In that brief interval, he intended to cover everything before your eyes.

A monk asked, “I do not yet know what the essential meaning is.” Yunmen replied, “One length of rope sells for thirty coins.” The Master possessed the eye that fixes heaven and earth. Since no one understood, he later spoke in their place: “Clouds rise over the Southern Mountain; rain falls on the Northern Mountain.” He opened a way of entry for later students. Therefore, Xuedou merely raised the point where the Master fixed heaven and earth, causing people to see.

If you fall into calculation and display the tip of your sharpness, you will inevitably miss it face-to-face. He sought only to preserve Yunmen’s essential teaching in its entirety and clarify his lofty, precipitous activity; therefore, he brought it out in verse:

VERSE: Nam sơn vân

Bắc sơn vũ

Tứ thất nhị tam diện tương đổ

Tân La quốc lý tằng thượng đường

Đại Đường quốc lý vị đả cổ.

Khổ trung lạc

lạc trung khổ

Thùy đạo huỳnh kim như phấn thổ?

TRANSLATION: Clouds over the Southern Mountain,

Rain over the Northern Mountain.

The thirty-three patriarchs see one another face-to-face.

In the kingdom of Silla, he once ascended the Dharma hall;

In the Great Tang realm, the drum has not yet been struck.

Joy within suffering,

Suffering within joy—

Who says pure gold is like dung and earth?

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the two lines, “clouds over the Southern Mountain, rain over the Northern Mountain,” Xuedou begins by putting on his cap, watching the wind and unfurling the sail; upon the keen sword’s edge, he adds a footnote for you. When he comes directly to “the thirty-three Patriarchs see one another face to face,” do not misunderstand. Here he merely completes the verse on the ancient Buddha and the pillar joining in communion—what order of activity is this?

In the latter part, he opens a path and creates entangling vines; one must discern the Master’s meaning in “In the kingdom of Silla, he once ascended the hall; in the Great Tang, the drum has not yet been struck.” At the place where lightning flashes and a shooting star streaks, Xuedou immediately says, “Joy within suffering, suffering within joy.” It is as though Xuedou has already heaped up the seven treasures and eight precious things here.

Therefore, at the very end there is a line that says: “Who says pure gold is like dirt?” This line is taken from Chan Master Guanyue’s poem “The Road Is Hard”; Xuedou quotes it for his own use. Guanyue said: “Mountains are high and seas are deep—the wise can fathom them; through ages past and present, they grow ever more verdant. Do not associate with the shallow and impetuous; poor soil knows only how to grow thorns.

Who says pure gold is like dirt?

Zhang Er and Chen Yu severed communication. The road is hard, the road is hard—brother, see for yourself. Is it not that the land is broad and the people few? Yunju, Luohan.”

CASE 84: VIMALAKIRTI’S DHARMA GATE OF NONDUALITY

INTRODUCTION: Say that it is right—there is nowhere that is right. Say that it is wrong—there is nowhere that is wrong. Right and wrong, gain and loss, are both forgotten; utterly clean and bare, it is freely revealed. Tell me, what is before you and behind you? A Chan traveler comes forward and says: Before me are the Buddha hall and the three gates; behind me are the guest quarters and the abbot’s room. Tell me, does this person possess the eye or not? If you can discern this person, I grant that you have personally seen the ancients come.

PUBLIC CASE: Vimalakirti asked Manjusri: “What is a bodhisattva’s entry into the Dharma gate of nonduality?” Manjusri replied: “As I understand it, with regard to all dharmas there is neither speech nor words, neither indication nor cognition; to be free from all questions and answers—this is entry into the Dharma gate of nonduality.” Manjusri then asked Vimalakirti: “Each of us has finished giving his own account. Worthy one, you should now tell us: What is a bodhisattva’s entry into the Dharma gate of nonduality?” Xuedou said: “What did Vimalakirti say?” He further said: “Thoroughly exposed.”

COMMENTARY: When Vimalakirti had each of the great bodhisattvas speak about the Dharma gate of nonduality, all thirty-two bodhisattvas took dualistic views—such as conditioned and unconditioned, ultimate truth and conventional truth—and united them into a single view, calling this the Dharma gate of nonduality. He then asked the bodhisattva Manjusri. Manjusri replied: “As I understand it, with regard to all dharmas there is neither speech nor words, neither indication nor cognition; to be free from all questions and answers—this is the Dharma gate of nonduality.” The thirty-two used words to dispel words; Manjusri used no-words to dispel words, sweeping everything away at once and requiring none of it: this is entry into the Dharma gate of nonduality.

Little did he know that the numinous tortoise, while protecting its tail, wipes away its tracks only to leave a trail. It is also like using a broom to sweep away dust: although the dust is gone, the marks of the broom still remain. In the end, the traces must still be removed as before.

At that time, the bodhisattva Manjusri asked Vimalakirti in return: “Each of us has finished giving his own account. Worthy one, you yourself should now tell us: What is a bodhisattva’s entry into the Dharma gate of nonduality?” Vimalakirti remained silent. One who is alive would never go chanting in the realm of the dead.

If you form such an interpretation, you are like a mad dog chasing a shadow. Xuedou does not say that he remained silent, nor does he say that he was silent for a long while; he speaks only at the most urgent point. He asks: “What did Vimalakirti say?” Just in Xuedou’s saying this, do you see Vimalakirti or not?

Have you dreamed of seeing him, or not even dreamed it? Vimalakirti was an ancient Buddha of the past. He also had his retinue, assisted the Buddha in spreading the teaching, possessed inconceivable eloquence, an inconceivable realm, and the inconceivable wondrous functioning of spiritual powers.

Within a chamber ten feet square, he accommodated thirty-two thousand precious lion thrones and a great assembly of eighty thousand, yet it did not appear either spacious or cramped. Tell me, what principle is this? Can it be called the wondrous functioning of spiritual powers?

Do not misunderstand. As for the Dharma gate of nonduality, only those who have attained and realized it together can share in its realization and knowledge; Manjusri alone was worthy to respond to him. Even so, could they escape Xuedou’s scrutiny?

In speaking this way, Xuedou too needed to meet these two face to face. He asks: “What did Vimalakirti say?” Then he says: “Thoroughly exposed.” Tell me, where is the place of thorough exposure? Just this: not being bound by gain or loss, not falling into right or wrong.

It is like climbing a precipice ten thousand fathoms high, relinquishing your life, and leaping clear across; then I grant that you have seen Vimalakirti. If you cannot relinquish it, you are like a herd of deer caught against a fence. Xuedou was indeed one who could relinquish his life; therefore, he produced this verse:

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou said, “Fool! That old Vimalakirti.” Why did he place the word “fool” at the very beginning? He immediately cuts through with the Diamond King’s precious sword; one must strike three thousand times in the morning and eight hundred times in the evening to be equal to it.

In Sanskrit, his name is Vimalakirti; in Chinese it is translated as “Stainless Renown,” and he is also called “Pure Name.” In a past age, he was the Tathagata Golden Grain. A monk asked Master Jian of Yunju, “Since he was the Tathagata Golden Grain, why did he attend the assembly of Shakyamuni Buddha to hear the Dharma?” Master Jian replied, “He did not contend over self and other. A person of great liberation is not constrained by becoming a Buddha or not becoming a Buddha.” If you say that he practiced in the hope of attaining the Buddha Way, that is even further from the point.

As the Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment says: “Using the mind of samsara to produce views of samsara, one can never enter the Tathagata’s ocean of great quiescent extinction.” Yongjia said: “Whether right or wrong, no one knows; conduct contrary or conduct in accord, even heaven cannot fathom.” Conduct in accord advances toward the fruition of Buddhahood; conduct contrary enters the realm of sentient beings. Chan Master Shou said: “Even if you refine yourself until reaching this ground, you still will not have fulfilled your intention.

Only after realizing the undefiled body of a sage should you engage in conduct in accord or conduct contrary.” Therefore, Xuedou said, “Compassion arises without sorrow.” In the Vimalakirti Sutra, it is said: “Because sentient beings are ill, I too am ill.” If there were sorrow, compassion would be lost. The line “Lying ill in Vaishali” means that Vimalakirti manifested illness in the city of Vaishali. During the Tang dynasty, when Wang Xuance traveled as an envoy to the Western Regions and reached Vimalakirti’s dwelling, he measured the chamber lengthwise and crosswise with his hands and found it to be only ten spans; hence it was called a “square fathom,” or abbot’s chamber.

The line “His whole body exceedingly gaunt and frail” refers to how, on the occasion of his bodily illness, he expounded the Dharma broadly for others: “This body is impermanent, without strength, without firmness; it is a thing that swiftly decays and cannot be relied upon. It is suffering, a gathering of illnesses, and even a composite formed by the conjunction of the skandhas, dhatus, and ayatanas.” The line “The ancestral teacher of seven Buddhas comes” refers to Manjushri, the ancestral teacher of seven Buddhas, who obeyed the World-Honored One’s command and came to inquire after his illness.

The line “One chamber constantly swept bare” means that everything was removed from the abbot’s chamber, leaving only a bed, as he awaited Manjushri’s arrival to inquire about the Dharma gate of nonduality. Therefore, Xuedou said: “When asked about the gate of nonduality, at that moment he simply leaned against his seat.” Vimalakirti’s mouth was like a flat board. Ordinary Chan travelers today say, “Silence means leaning against the seat.” Do not mistakenly take the beam of a scale for an immutable standard.

Xuedou pushes the matter to the brink of a ten-thousand-fathom cliff, then says: “He did not lean against his seat.” With one hand he raises up, and with the other he presses down. The Master possesses this kind of technique; truly, he can employ it with complete freedom. Before the verse, the capping phrase asks, “What did Vimalakirti say?” Now it says: “The golden-haired lion has no abiding place.” This was so not only then; it is also so now.

Do you still see old Vimalakirti? All the mountains, rivers, great earth, grasses, trees, forests, and groves have transformed into golden-haired lions, yet he still cannot be sought out or found.

CASE 85: THE HERMIT OF TONGFENG MAKES THE SOUND OF A TIGER

POINTER: Holding the world upright without letting even a single hair slip through, causing everyone throughout the great earth to forget their swords and close their mouths—this is the true command of a Chan monk. Emitting light from the crown of the head that shines through the four continents—this is the Diamond Eye of a Chan monk. Turning iron into gold and gold into iron, suddenly capturing and suddenly releasing—this is the staff of a Chan monk. Cutting off the tongues of everyone under heaven so that they have no place even to exhale, and making them retreat three thousand miles—this is the majestic bearing of a Chan monk. But tell me: if none of these is so, what is it ultimately? See the case brought forth.

PUBLIC CASE: A monk came to the hermitage of the hermit of Tongfeng and immediately asked, “If one were suddenly to encounter a tiger here, what should one do?” The hermit immediately made the roar of a tiger. The monk immediately assumed a frightened posture. The hermit laughed, “Ha! Ha!” The monk said, “You old thief!” The hermit said, “What can you do to this old monk?” The monk desisted. Xuedou said, “Right indeed it is, yet these two old evil thieves only know how to cover their ears while stealing a bell.”

COMMENTARY: From the lineage of Daxiong—Baizhang—came four hermits: Damei, Baiyun, Huxi, and Tongfeng. Observe how quick the eyes, hands, and feet of these two were. But tell me, wherein lies the wonder?

A single device, a single circumstance, a single word, or a single phrase of the ancients, though produced in response to the immediate occasion—if the eye is completely true, it naturally lives and moves freely. Xuedou adds his capping phrase so that people may distinguish crooked from straight and clearly understand gain and loss. Even so, from the standpoint of one who has attained the Way, though amid gain and loss, there is neither gain nor loss.

If you regard these masters in terms of gain and loss, you have missed the point entirely. People today must penetrate, case by case, to the place where there is neither gain nor loss; only afterward may they use gain and loss to discern people. If you devote yourself solely to selecting and analyzing phrases, applying your mind to them, when will you ever finish?

Great Master Yunmen said: “Traveling mendicants, do not idly wander through provinces and districts, seeking hollow words with which to raise up and press down. You wait for an old master to open his mouth, then ask about Chan and ask about the Way, about going beyond and going beneath, ‘How is this?’ and ‘What is that?’ You then copy it all into a book and put it in your leather bag. Later, beside the hearth, three or five of you gather your heads and babble about it: ‘This is a phrase of mutual exchange’; ‘That is a phrase striking directly from close quarters’; ‘This is a phrase concerning phenomena’;

‘That is a phrase within the essence.’ After eating your parents’ food at home, you merely talk in dreams and say, ‘I understand the Buddhadharma.’ You should know that if you travel in this manner, you will not be finished even in the year of the donkey.”

When the ancients played with capping phrases, how could they cling to victory and defeat, gain and loss, right and wrong? After Tongfeng had met Linji, he went deep into the mountains, built a hermitage, and lived there. When this monk arrived, he immediately asked, “If one were suddenly to encounter a tiger here, what should one do?” Tongfeng immediately made the roar of a tiger.

When the matter came, he went straight into action. This monk also knew how to meet error with error and immediately assumed a frightened posture. The hermit laughed, “Ha!

Ha!” The monk said, “You old thief!” Tongfeng said, “What can you do to this old monk?” Right indeed it is, yet neither of them brought the matter to completion; for a thousand ages afterward, they have been subjected to people’s scrutiny. Therefore, Xuedou said, “Right indeed it is, yet these two old evil thieves only know how to cover their ears while stealing a bell.” Though both old men were thieves, when the pivotal moment arrived they did not act effectively; hence they covered their ears while stealing a bell.

These two old fellows were like generals who arrayed hundreds of thousands of troops but then fought using only brooms. In discussing this matter, one must possess the means to kill people without even glancing back. If one only releases and never captures, only kills and never spares, how can one avoid being ridiculed?

Even so, those ancients did not have so many complications. Observe these two: each saw the opportunity and acted.

Wuzu said: “The samadhi of freely playing with spiritual powers, the samadhi of the torch of wisdom, the samadhi of King Majestic Adornment”—this precisely describes someone whose heels do not touch the ground. People merely scrutinize the ancients and immediately speak of gain and loss. Some say, “Clearly the hermit was defeated.” What relevance does that have?

Xuedou said, “When the two met, each had a point at which he let the other pass.” The monk said, “If one were suddenly to encounter a tiger here, what should one do?” Tongfeng immediately made the roar of a tiger. This was a point at which he let him pass. When Tongfeng went so far as to say, “What can you do to this old monk?” this too was a point at which he let him pass; clearly, he had fallen into the secondary mechanism.

Xuedou said, “When it is necessary to act, act at once.” People today, hearing this, immediately say, “At that moment, the command should have been carried out.” Do not employ a blind cangue and a sightless staff. Enter Deshan’s gate and he strikes; enter Linji’s gate and he shouts. Tell me, what was the intention of the ancients?

In what follows, Xuedou merely versifies it in this way. Tell me, ultimately, how can one avoid covering one’s ears while stealing a bell?

VERSE: Seeing it, do not seize it;

Thinking of it, you are a thousand miles away.

What a fine striped beast—

Yet its claws and fangs are still unprepared.

Have you not seen?

Below Mount Daxiong, they suddenly encountered one another;

Its majestic roar shook the earth.

Does the great man see it or not?

Grasp the tiger’s tail—pluck the tiger’s whiskers.

TRANSLATION:

Seeing it, do not grasp it;

Thinking of it, you are a thousand miles away.

The magnificent tiger is striped and patterned,

Yet its fangs and claws are still not enough.

Do you not see?

Beneath Mount Daxiong, they suddenly met;

Resounding, the reverberation shook the earth.

Great man, do you see or not?

Grasp the tiger’s tail—pluck the tiger’s whiskers.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: The two lines, “Seeing it, do not grasp it; thinking of it, you are a thousand miles away,” concern precisely the perilous point where nothing can be applied. When the other said, “What can you do to this old monk?” he should have settled the matter according to his fundamental duty. If at that moment he had been able to employ an effective maneuver, the other would surely have had something further to say. One man knew only how to let go, but not how to gather in. “Seeing it, do not grasp it”—already white clouds extend for ten thousand miles; what more can be said of “Thinking of it, you are a thousand miles away”?

The two lines, “The magnificent tiger is striped and patterned, yet its fangs and claws are still not enough,” are indeed right; a tiger also knows how to conceal its fangs and hide its claws, but why did it not know how to seize the man?

The three lines, “Do you not see? Beneath Mount Daxiong, they suddenly met; resounding, the reverberation shook the earth,” refer to this: One day Baizhang asked Huangbo, “Where have you come from?” Huangbo replied, “I have come from gathering mushrooms beneath the mountain.” Baizhang asked, “Did you see a tiger?” Huangbo immediately made the sound of a tiger roaring. Baizhang reached to his side, drew out an axe, and made as if to strike. Huangbo caught and held him, then immediately slapped him.

That evening Baizhang ascended the hall and said, “Beneath Mount Daxiong there is a tiger. All of you must watch carefully whenever you come and go. This very day, this old monk was bitten by it.”

Later, Guishan asked Yangshan, “What about Huangbo’s tiger story?” Yangshan replied, “What is Your Reverence’s esteemed meaning?” Guishan said, “At that time Baizhang should have struck him dead with one blow of the axe. Why did it come to this?” Yangshan replied, “That is not so.” Guishan asked, “Then what would you say?” Yangshan replied, “Not only did he know how to ride the tiger’s head; he also knew how to grasp the tiger’s tail.” Guishan said, “Ji, you have attained the phrase at the perilous brink.”

Xuedou cites this to illuminate the preceding part of the case: “Resounding, the reverberation shook the earth.” Here there is free and unhindered transformation; within the phrase there must be a road by which to emerge. The two lines, “Great man, do you see or not?”—do you see it again? “Grasp the tiger’s tail—pluck the tiger’s whiskers”: this must accord with the fundamental duty. Though you may grasp the tiger’s tail and pluck its whiskers, you still cannot avoid having your nostrils pierced all at once.

CASE 86: YUNMEN’S KITCHEN STOREROOM AND THREE GATES

POINTER: Holding the world upright, not even a strand of hair slips through; cutting off all streams, not even a single drop remains. Open your mouth and you immediately err; give rise to thought and you go astray. Tell me, what is the eye that penetrates the barrier? Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Yunmen instructed: “Every person fully possesses a light that is presently manifest, but when you look at it, you do not see it—it is utterly dark. What is your light?” He answered on their behalf: “The kitchen storeroom and the three gates.” He also said: “A good thing is not as good as nothing.”

EXPLANATION: In his chamber, Yunmen offered words to receive people: “Each and every one of you has beneath your heels a portion of light that shines through past and present and utterly transcends seeing and knowing. Yet although it is light, as soon as you are questioned about it, you do not understand. Is this not utter darkness?”

For twenty years, no one fully understood the Master’s meaning in these words. Later, Xianglin implored him to give an answer on their behalf. Yunmen replied, “The kitchen storeroom and the three gates.” He also replied, “A good thing is not as good as nothing.” Ordinarily, an answer given on another’s behalf consists of only one phrase; why are there two phrases here? With the first phrase, he opened a road for you so that you might see. If it had been the right person, as soon as he heard it, he would have risen and departed. The Master feared that people would become stuck here, so he added, “A good thing is not as good as nothing.” As before, he swept everything clean for you.

When people today hear the word “light,” they immediately stare wide-eyed and say, “In there is the kitchen storeroom; in there are the three gates.” This still has nothing to do with it. Therefore it is said, “Understand the meaning at the hook’s tip; do not accept the weight on the balance.” This matter does not lie in the eye, nor does it lie in objects. You must cut off knowledge and views, forget gain and loss, and be utterly clean and nakedly exposed. Each person must investigate it within their own present endowment; only then will it do.

Yunmen said, “During the day you come and go; during the day you discern people. But suddenly, in the middle of the night, when there is no light from the sun, moon, or lamps, you may still manage in places you have already visited. In a place you have never visited, if you try to take hold of something, can you get it?”

The Cantong Qi says:

If you sit and sever both light and darkness, tell me, what is it? Thus it is said, “When the flower of mind blossoms and becomes clear, it illuminates the lands of the ten directions.” Panshan said, “Light does not illuminate objects, and objects no longer remain. When both light and objects are forgotten, what thing is there?” He also said:

“Precisely within seeing and hearing, there is no seeing or hearing;
No sound or form remains that can be presented to you.
If you comprehend this, there is entirely nothing to do;
Why should essence and function hinder being distinguished or undistinguished?”

Only when you understand the final phrase can you freely wander through the phrase that precedes it. Ultimately, you cannot make a livelihood within it. An ancient said, “Taking non-abiding as the basis, establish all dharmas.” You must not come here to toy with reflections of light or play with the spirit-soul; nor may you understand it as having nothing to do. An ancient said, “It is better to give rise to an attachment to existence as great as Mount Sumeru than to cling to emptiness as small as a mustard seed.” Those of the Two Vehicles often fall into this attachment. Xuedou versified:

VERSE:

Self-illumination displays solitary brightness;
For your sake, he opens a single thread of passage.
The flowers have fallen; the tree casts no shadow.
When looking, who does not see?

Seeing, not seeing—
Riding the ox backward, he enters the Buddha hall.

TRANSLATION:

Seeing, not seeing—
Riding the ox backward, he enters the Buddha hall.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: The line “Self-illumination displays solitary brightness” means that beneath the heels of each person this portion of radiant light is inherently present; it is simply that ordinarily one makes use of darkness. Therefore Great Master Yunmen displayed this light in all its clarity directly before you. What is your light? The kitchen storeroom and the three gates. This is where Yunmen displayed solitary brightness. Panshan said, “The moon of mind is uniquely perfect; its light swallows the myriad phenomena.” This is true constancy, revealed alone.

Later comes, “For your sake, he opens a single thread of passage,” for he also feared that people would cling to “the kitchen storeroom and the three gates.” Let the kitchen storeroom and the three gates be as they may. By morning the flowers have already fallen, and the tree casts no shadow. The sun has set, the moon has grown dark, and the whole of heaven, earth, and the great land is utterly dark. Do you still see?

“When looking, who does not see?” Tell me, who does not see? On arriving here, there must be darkness within light and light within darkness. All of it, like a step forward and a step back, should be seen for oneself. Xuedou’s “Seeing, not seeing” versifies “A good thing is not as good as nothing.” Though one ought to see, one does not see; though it ought to be bright, it is not bright.

The line “Riding the ox backward, he enters the Buddha hall” means entering the lacquer bucket. You yourself must ride the ox into the Buddha hall. Examine this statement: what principle does it express?

CASE 87: YUNMEN—MEDICINE AND ILLNESS CURE EACH OTHER

POINTER: A clear-eyed person has no nest or den. Sometimes, atop the solitary peak, the grass grows thick and dense; sometimes, at the head of the marketplace, everything is openly revealed. Suddenly, when wrathful, Nata manifests three heads and six arms.

Suddenly, day after day facing the Buddha and month after month facing the Buddha, he radiates compassionate light that universally gathers all beings; upon a single speck of dust he manifests every body, and, adapting to every kind of person, he mixes with mud and mingles with water. Suddenly, when he reveals the upward path, even the Buddha-eye cannot gaze upon it; though a thousand sages were to appear in the world, they too would have to retreat three thousand miles.

Is there anyone who equally attains and equally realizes it? Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Yunmen instructed the assembly: “Medicine and illness cure each other. The whole great earth is medicine. What is your true self?”

EXPLANATION: Yunmen said, “Medicine and illness counteract one another. The whole great earth is medicine. What is your own self?” Do you yet have a place from which to emerge?

Examine this throughout the twelve hours of the day: a sheer cliff rising a thousand fathoms. Deshan’s staff struck like falling rain; Linji’s shout resembled rolling thunder—set these aside for the moment. Shakyamuni is simply Shakyamuni; Maitreya is simply Maitreya.

Those who do not know where this comes down usually say that it should be understood as medicine and illness corresponding to one another. During the World-Honored One’s forty-nine years and more than three hundred assemblies, all the teachings he expounded in response to circumstances were medicines prescribed according to illnesses, like exchanging bitter fruit for sweet fruit, refining and purifying your karmic roots until you are utterly clean and at ease.

The whole earth is medicine—where will you set your beak? If you can set your beak, you will have a place to turn around and breathe out, and will immediately meet Yunmen face to face. If you look back and hesitate, you certainly will not be able to set your beak, and Yunmen will be beneath your heels.

“Medicine and illness counteract one another” is itself merely an ordinary saying. If you cling to existence, he speaks of nonexistence for you; if you cling to nonexistence, he speaks of existence for you; if you cling to neither existence nor nonexistence, he sweeps away the dust and clears out the filth for you. He manifests the sixteen-foot golden body, appearing and disappearing in the same instant.

At present, the whole great earth, its myriad phenomena, and even your own self are all simultaneously medicine. At that very moment, what do you call your own self? If you merely call it medicine, even when Maitreya Buddha appears in the world, you still will not have dreamed of seeing Yunmen.

Ultimately, how is it? Know the intent at the tip of the hook; do not mistake it for the weight on the scale.

One day, Bodhisattva Manjushri sent Sudhana to gather medicinal herbs, instructing him, “Bring back whatever is not medicine.” Sudhana looked everywhere and found that all things were medicine. He returned and reported, “Everything is medicine.” Manjushri said, “Then bring back what is medicine.” Sudhana thereupon picked up a blade of grass and handed it to Manjushri. Manjushri raised it and told the assembly, “This medicine can kill people, and it can also save people.”

This saying, “Medicine and illness counteract one another,” is extremely difficult to investigate. Yunmen ordinarily used it in his chamber to receive people. One day Elder Jine came to visit Xuedou. The elder was an accomplished master, truly a venerable adept of the Linji school. The two discussed the saying “Medicine and illness counteract one another” throughout the night, and only when the sun rose did they exhaust its principle. When one reaches this point, learned interpretations, comparisons, and conceptual deliberations are all of no use. Later, Xuedou composed a verse to bid farewell to Jine:

“Medicine and illness counteract each other—seeing this is hard;
Myriad layers of locked gates afford no clue.
The Wayfarer Jine came over to inquire;
All night the sea of learning sported with its waves.”

In the verse that follows, Xuedou displays great skill. The master’s intent lies both with the guest and with the host; one can naturally perceive it.

VERSE: The whole great earth is medicine—

From antiquity to the present, why such a grave mistake?

With the gate shut, no cart is constructed;

The open road is naturally vast and broad.

Mistaken! Mistaken!

Even a nostril piercing heaven is run through.

TRANSLATION: The whole great earth is medicine—

From antiquity to the present, why such a grave mistake?

With the gate shut, no cart is constructed;

The open road is naturally vast and broad.

Mistaken! Mistaken!

Even a nostril piercing heaven is run through.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: As for the two lines, “The whole great earth is medicine—From antiquity to the present, why such a grave mistake?” if you understand it by calling it medicine, then from antiquity to the present you have been mistaken all at once. Xuedou said, “There is a group of people who do not know how to cut off Damei’s heels; they merely need to say that the road goes very quickly.” The master already knew how to cut off Yunmen’s heels, for this one saying of Yunmen has bewildered no small number of people. Yunmen said, “The staff is a wave; it allows you to move freely in every direction. The whole great earth is a wave; see how you emerge and enter.”

Regarding the two lines, “With the gate shut, no cart is constructed; the open road is naturally vast and broad,” Xuedou spoke them to open a road for you. If you shut the gate to construct a cart and then open it to fit the wheels, what use will that be? Here, I shut the gate yet do not construct a cart; when the gate opens, it is naturally vast and broad.

Here, the master briefly reveals a small opening so that people may see. Yet he hastily exclaims, “Mistaken! Mistaken!” in succession: the beginning is mistaken, and the end is also mistaken.

Who knows that Xuedou’s opening of a road is also a mistake? That being so, why is even a nostril piercing heaven run through? Do you wish to understand?

Investigate it for thirty years. If you have a staff, I give you a staff; if you have no staff, you cannot avoid having your nostrils pierced by someone.

CASE 88: XUANSHA’S THREE KINDS OF SICK PEOPLE

INTRODUCTION: When establishing the teaching at the gate of the school, one must break two and create three. To enter the principle and discuss it profoundly, one must also pierce it seven times and penetrate it eight. Meeting the situation directly, strike and shatter the golden lock on the mysterious gate; acting in accordance with the command, one will surely sweep away every trace. Tell me, where does the wonder lie? Those endowed with an eye atop the crown, I invite you to examine the case.

PUBLIC CASE: Xuansha instructed the assembly: “The venerable adepts everywhere all speak of receiving beings and benefiting living creatures. But if they suddenly encounter three kinds of sick people, how will they receive them? For a blind person, they raise the mallet or hold up the whisk, but that person cannot see. For a deaf person, they employ the samadhi of words and speech, but that person cannot hear. A mute person is instructed to speak, but cannot do so. How are such people to be received? If you cannot receive these people, the Buddhadharma has no efficacy.”

A monk went and asked Yunmen about this. Yunmen said, “Make your bows.” After the monk had bowed and stood up, Yunmen barred his way with his staff. The monk retreated. Yunmen said, “You are not blind.” He then said, “Come closer.” The monk came closer, and Yunmen said, “You are not deaf.” Yunmen asked, “Do you understand?” The monk replied, “I do not understand.” Yunmen said, “You are not mute.” At that moment, the monk awakened.

EXPLANATION: Xuansha investigated until sense-objects and conceptual thought were cut off and all was stripped bare and plainly exposed; only then could he speak in this way. At that time, monasteries everywhere looked to one another, and he would ordinarily instruct the assembly, saying: “The venerable adepts everywhere all speak of receiving beings and benefiting living creatures. But if they suddenly encounter three kinds of sick people, how will they receive them?

For a blind person, they raise the mallet or hold up the whisk, but he cannot see it. For a deaf person, they employ the samadhi of verbal expression, but he cannot hear it. They tell a mute person to speak, but he cannot speak.

How are they to receive them? If they cannot receive such people, then the Buddhadharma has no efficacy.” If people today form an interpretation based on blindness, deafness, muteness, and speechlessness, they will never fathom it. Therefore it is said: Do not seek understanding in a dead phrase; you must understand Xuansha’s intent.

Xuansha often used this saying to receive people. There was a monk who had long remained in Xuansha’s assembly. One day, when Xuansha ascended the hall, he came forward and asked: “Master, regarding your saying about the three kinds of sick people, will you permit me to express the principle?” Xuansha said: “I permit you!” The monk immediately bowed respectfully and departed.

Xuansha said: “Not so, not so.” This monk understood Xuansha’s intent. Later, Fayan said: “When I heard Master Dizang recount this monk’s words, I first understood the saying about the three kinds of sick people.” If you say this monk did not understand, why did Fayan speak in this way? If you say he understood, why did Xuansha say, “Not so, not so”?

One day, Dizang asked: “I have heard that Master speaks of the three kinds of sick people. Is that so?” Xuansha said: “It is.” Dizang asked: “Guichen now has eyes, ears, nose, and tongue; how will Master receive him?” Xuansha thereupon ceased. If you understand Xuansha’s intent, how could it lie in words and phrases?

One who understands it is naturally extraordinary. Later, a monk recounted this to Yunmen. Yunmen immediately understood its intent and said: “Make your bows.” The monk bowed and stood up.

Yunmen blocked him with his staff, and the monk stepped back. Yunmen said: “You are not blind.” He then called: “Come closer.” The monk came closer. Yunmen said: “You are not deaf.” Then he asked: “Do you understand?” The monk replied: “I do not understand.” Yunmen said: “You are not mute.” At that moment the monk had an awakening.

At that time, had it been this fellow, as soon as the Master told him to bow, he would have overturned the meditation seat; then where would all these entangling vines have been seen? Tell me: Are Yunmen’s and Xuansha’s understandings the same or different? The understanding of both is of one kind.

Observe how the ancients appeared in the world and devised thousands upon thousands of expedient means. Their intent was on the tip of the hook; with bitter mouths they instructed you entirely so that each of you might illuminate this one matter. Old Master Wuzu said: “One person can speak of it but does not understand it; another understands it but cannot speak of it.

If these two people come to inquire, how will you distinguish them? If you cannot distinguish these two people, you will certainly fail to remove the sticking points and untie the bonds for others. If you can distinguish them, the moment I see them enter the gate, I will put on straw sandals and run several times through their bellies.

Yet if they still do not awaken, what more are they seeking? Get out!” Do not form interpretations based on blindness, deafness, muteness, and speechlessness. You should not calculate in this way.

Therefore it is said: The eyes see forms as though blind; the ears hear sounds as though deaf. It is also said: With eyes full, one does not behold forms; with ears full, one does not hear sounds. Manjusri constantly confronts the eyes; Avalokitesvara blocks the ears.

Upon reaching this point, when seeing with the eyes is just like blindness and hearing with the ears is just like deafness, only then can one be in accord with Xuansha’s intent. Do you understand where the blind, deaf, and mute person comes down? See Xuedou’s verse:

VERSE: Blind, deaf, dim, and mute,

All faculties and deliberations utterly cut off.

Above heaven and beneath heaven,

Worthy of laughter, worthy of pity.

Li Lou cannot discern the true colors;

How could Shi Kuang recognize the mysterious strings?

How could either compare with sitting alone beneath the empty window,

Where leaves fall and flowers bloom, each in its own season?

TRANSLATION: Blind, deaf, and mute,

All faculties and deliberations utterly stilled.

Above heaven and beneath heaven,

Worthy of laughter, worthy of pity.

Li Lou cannot discern the true colors;

How could Shi Kuang know the mysterious strings?

Nothing compares with sitting alone beneath the empty window,

Where leaves fall and flowers bloom, each at the proper time.

He further said: Do you understand or not? An iron hammer without a hole.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: The two lines, “Blind, deaf, dim, and mute; all faculties and deliberations utterly cut off,” exhaust whether you see or do not see, hear or do not hear, speak or do not speak. Xuedou has swept everything clean for you all at once. Even interpretations of blindness, deafness, and muteness, along with all deliberation and calculation, are simultaneously cut off; none of them can be used.

Concerning this matter beyond, one should say: truly blind, truly deaf, truly mute—without faculties, without deliberation. The two lines, “Above heaven and beneath heaven, worthy of laughter, worthy of pity,” show Xuedou raising up with one hand and pressing down with the other. Tell me, what is laughable?

What is pitiable? What is laughable is that the mute one is not mute and the deaf one is not deaf. What is pitiable is that one who clearly is not blind is nevertheless blind, and one who clearly is not deaf is nevertheless deaf.

The line, “Li Lou cannot discern the true colors,” means being unable to distinguish blue, yellow, red, and white—this is precisely blindness. Li Lou was a man from the time of the Yellow Emperor. His eyesight was exceedingly keen; from more than a hundred paces away he could see an object as tiny as a strand of hair.

While traveling along the Crimson River, the Yellow Emperor dropped a pearl. He ordered Li Lou to search for it, but Li Lou could not find it. He ordered Qiegou to search, but he too could not find it.

Finally, he ordered Xiangwang to search, and only then was it found. Therefore it is said: “When Xiangwang arrives, the radiance shines brilliantly; wherever Li Lou goes, waves surge to the heavens.” This is placed on the highest summit; even Li Lou’s eyes, which could discern the true colors, could not manage it. As for the line, “How could Shi Kuang recognize the mysterious strings?” Shi Kuang lived in Jiangzhou during the Zhou dynasty.

The son of Duke Jing of Jin, he was named Shi Kuang and styled Ziye. He was skilled in distinguishing the five tones and the six pitch standards, and from beyond a mountain he could hear a swarm of ants fighting. At that time, Jin and Chu were contending against each other.

Shi Kuang merely played the zither, and as soon as he plucked its strings, he knew that an attack upon Chu would not succeed. Even so, Xuedou said: “You still do not know the mysterious strings.” One who is not deaf is nevertheless deaf. The mysterious sound issues from the highest summit; even Shi Kuang could not know it.

Xuedou said: I do not act as Li Lou, nor do I act as Shi Kuang: “How could either compare with sitting alone beneath the empty window, where leaves fall and flowers bloom, each in its own season?” If you reach this realm, although seeing seems like not seeing, hearing seems like not hearing, and speaking seems like not speaking, when hungry you eat rice, and when tired you sleep soundly, freely letting leaves fall and flowers bloom.

When leaves fall, it is autumn; when flowers bloom, it is spring. Each naturally has its own season. Xuedou has swept everything clean for you all at once.

Then he lets out a single thread and says: Do you understand or not? Xuedou, his spirit wearied and his strength exhausted, could only say, “An iron hammer without a hole.” This one phrase must be seen in a swift glance; if you deliberate over it, you have already passed it by. The Master raised the whisk and said: “Do you see?” He struck the meditation seat once and said: “Do you hear?” He stepped down from the meditation seat and said: “Can you speak?”

CASE 89: YUNYAN’S HANDS AND EYES OF GREAT COMPASSION

INTRODUCTORY WORDS: The whole body is eyes, yet seeing does not reach it; the whole body is ears, yet hearing cannot keep pace with it; the whole body is a mouth, yet speech cannot express it; the whole body is mind, yet illumination cannot reveal it. Set aside the whole body for the moment. Suddenly, without eyes, how would you see? Without ears, how would you hear? Without a mouth, how would you speak? Without mind, how would you illuminate? If you can open up a path here, you will immediately investigate together with the ancient Buddhas. Set investigation aside for the moment; tell me, what is being investigated?

CASE: Yunyan asked Daowu, “What does the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion do with so many hands and eyes?” Daowu said, “It is like a person in the middle of the night reaching behind to feel for a pillow.” Yunyan said, “I understand.” Daowu asked, “How do you understand it?” Yunyan said, “The whole body is hands and eyes.” Daowu said, “You have expressed it thoroughly, but only eight-tenths.” Yunyan asked, “What about you, elder brother?” Daowu said, “Throughout the body are hands and eyes.”

EXPLANATION: Yunyan and Daowu studied together under Yaoshan for forty years, their hips never touching the sitting mat. From Yaoshan issued the Caodong lineage, in which three men caused the Dharma Way to flourish. Below Yunyan was Dongshan; below Daowu was Shishuang; below the Boatman was Jiashan.

The Bodhisattva of Great Compassion has eighty-four thousand mudra arms. Great Compassion has many hands and eyes; do you also have them or not? Baizhang said, “All words and written characters invariably turn back toward oneself.” Yunyan often followed Daowu, asking questions and resolving doubts.

One day he asked Daowu, “What does the Bodhisattva of Great Compassion do with so many hands and eyes?” At the outset, Daowu should have struck him across the spine; then there would have been no later profusion of tangled vines. Yet Daowu, in his compassion, could not act thus. Instead, he explained the principle to him, intending that he understand immediately.

He said, “It is like a person in the middle of the night reaching behind to feel for a pillow.” In the depths of night, when there is no lamplight, one reaches out a hand and feels for the pillow. Tell me, where are the eyes? Yunyan immediately said, “I understand.” Daowu asked, “How do you understand it?” Yunyan said, “The whole body is hands and eyes.” Daowu said, “You have expressed it thoroughly, but only eight-tenths.” Yunyan asked, “What about you, elder brother?” Daowu said, “Throughout the body are hands and eyes.” Tell me, is “throughout the body” correct, or is “the whole body” correct?

Though it seems like mud and mire, he remains at ease. People today mostly give rise to conceptual interpretations, saying, “Throughout the body is wrong; the whole body is right.” They merely chew upon the ancient worthies’ words and phrases and die beneath their sayings. Little do they know that the ancient worthies’ intent does not lie in words and phrases; all these were merely matters of necessity.

Nowadays commentators establish formulas, saying, “If you penetrate this case, you immediately understand and may cease your studies.” Then they use their hands to feel all over their bodies, or feel the lamp and the pillar, and ultimately suppose that they understand the phrase “the whole body.” If you understand it in this way, you do no small damage to the ancient worthies. Therefore it is said, “Study the living phrase, not the dead phrase.” You must cut off emotional dust and conceptual thought, stripped bare and exposed in full clarity; only then can you see the phrase of Great Compassion.

Have you not seen how Caoshan asked a monk, “What is it like when one responds to things and manifests forms, like the moon in the water?” The monk replied, “Like a donkey looking into a well.” Caoshan said, “You have expressed it thoroughly, but only eight-tenths.” The monk asked, “What about you, Venerable?” Caoshan replied, “Like the well looking at the donkey.” This accords with the intent above. If you seek to see it by pursuing words, you will never escape the trap of Daowu and Yunyan.

Xuedou was an adept: he did not remain beneath a dead phrase but walked above it.

VERSE: Biến thân thị

Thông thân thị

Niêm lai du giảo thập vạn lý

Triển sí Bằng đằng lục hợp vân

Bác phong cổ đảng tứ minh thủy.

Thị hà ai ải hề hốt sanh

Na cá hào ly hề vị chỉ.

Quân bất kiến

Võng châu thùy phạm ảnh trùng trùng

Bổng đầu thủ nhãn tùng hà khởi.

Đốt!

TRANSLATION: Throughout the body—yes;

The whole body—yes.

Bring them forth, and still they are a hundred thousand miles away.

The Peng spreads its wings and soars, covering the six directions with clouds;

It beats up the wind and raises waves across the waters of the four seas.

Whence does the swirling dust suddenly arise?

What slightest hair has not yet ceased?

Do you not see?

The net of jewels hangs down, its reflections layer upon layer;

From where do hands and eyes arise at the tip of the staff?

Dốt!

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: As for the two lines, “Throughout the body—yes; the whole body—yes”: if you say that reaching out to feel for the pillow is right, then using the hand to feel the body is also right. If you give rise to such an interpretation, you will spend your whole life devising schemes inside a demon’s cave. Ultimately, neither “throughout the body” nor “the whole body” is right.

If you seek to see that phrase of Great Compassion through discriminating consciousness, you are certainly still a hundred thousand miles away. Xuedou plays with a living phrase, saying, “Bring them forth, and still they are a hundred thousand miles away.” Two lines praise the extraordinary place of Yunyan and Daowu: “The Peng spreads its wings and soars, covering the six directions with clouds; it beats up the wind and raises waves across the waters of the four seas.” The great Peng bird devours dragons.

Beating the wind with its wings, it parts the waves for three thousand miles and immediately seizes a dragon to eat. Xuedou says: If you are like the great Peng bird, beating up the wind and raising waves, you are exceedingly magnificent. But if viewed through Great Compassion’s thousand hands and eyes, it is merely dust suddenly arising for an instant, while not even the slightest breath of wind has yet ceased.

Xuedou says: If you use your hand to feel your body and take that as hands and eyes, of what use is it? At that point, you still have not understood the phrase of Great Compassion. Therefore he says, “Whence does the swirling dust suddenly arise?

What slightest hair has not yet ceased?” Xuedou, a true adept, sweeps everything clean all at once. Yet who would have expected that afterward he would, as before, let his tail show, offering an illustrative explanation and remaining, just as ever, inside the trap? “Do you not see?

The net of jewels hangs down, its reflections layer upon layer.” Xuedou invokes the bright jewels in Indra’s heavenly net as a model. Tell me, where do the hands and eyes come to rest? The Huayan school establishes four Dharma realms:

1) The Dharma realm of principle, which reveals the equality of the single flavor.

2) The Dharma realm of phenomena, which reveals that the whole of principle becomes phenomena.

3) The unobstructed Dharma realm of principle and phenomena, which reveals the mutual interpenetration of principle and phenomena, with great and small unobstructed.

4) The unobstructed Dharma realm of phenomenon and phenomenon, which reveals that one phenomenon universally enters all phenomena, while all phenomena universally encompass all phenomena, simultaneously intermingling without obstruction.

Therefore it is said, “As soon as a single mote of dust arises, the great earth is entirely contained within it. Each and every mote of dust contains boundless Dharma realms. Since one mote of dust is thus, all motes of dust are likewise.” The jeweled net before Indra’s Hall of Excellent Dharma is a net fashioned from mani jewels.

Within one jewel appear the reflections of hundreds of thousands of jewels, and all those hundreds of thousands of jewels appear within the one jewel. They illuminate one another, layer upon layer, host and companions without end. This is used to clarify the unobstructed Dharma realm of phenomenon and phenomenon.

In ancient times, National Teacher Xianshou set up mirrors and a lamp as an illustration. He hung ten mirrors and lit a single lamp in their midst. If one looked into the eastern mirror, the other nine mirrors, together with the lamp and their reflections, appeared distinctly within it.

If one looked into the southern mirror, one saw that each and every mirror was likewise. Thus, when the World-Honored One first attained perfect awakening, without leaving the bodhimanda he ascended throughout the heavenly realms, including the Heaven of the Thirty-Three, and so forth, until, in every place, he taught the Avatamsaka Sutra in nine assemblies at seven locations. Xuedou uses Indra’s heavenly net of jewels to reveal the unobstructed Dharma realm of phenomenon and phenomenon.

Moreover, the meaning of the six characteristics is perfectly clear: the universal and the particular, identity and difference, integration and disintegration. Raise one characteristic and all six are included. It is only because sentient beings constantly use this every day without knowing it.

Xuedou raises the bright jewels of Indra’s heavenly net as a model with which to compare this phrase of Great Compassion. Even so, only if, within this jeweled net, you can clearly realize the staff’s wondrous function of spiritual power, passing in and out without obstruction, can you truly be said to see the hands and eyes. Therefore Xuedou says, “From where do hands and eyes arise at the tip of the staff?” He teaches you to realize it at the tip of the staff and to take responsibility at the very sound of the shout.

When Deshan entered the gate, he immediately struck. Tell me, where were the hands and eyes? When Linji entered the gate, he immediately shouted.

Tell me, where were the hands and eyes? Finally, why did Xuedou append the single word “Dốt”? Investigate!

CASE: A monk asked Zhimen, “What is the essence of prajna?” Zhimen replied, “The clam holds the bright moon in its mouth.” The monk asked, “What is the function of prajna?” Zhimen replied, “The rabbit conceives.”

COMMENTARY: Zhimen replied, “The clam holds the bright moon in its mouth; the rabbit conceives,” wholly employing the meaning of the Mid-Autumn Festival. Even so, the ancient’s meaning does not lie in the clam or the rabbit. The Master was a venerable adept of the Yunmen school.

A single statement had to contain three statements: encompassing heaven and earth, cutting off the myriad streams, and following the waves and pursuing the currents. There was no need for deliberate arrangement; naturally fitting perfectly, it immediately reached the perilous place. In answering this monk, he briefly revealed both edges of the point; it was indeed extraordinary.

Even so, the ancients never chased after and toyed with light and shadows. They merely pointed out the road ahead so that you might see. The monk asked, “What is the essence of prajna?” Zhimen replied, “The clam holds the bright moon in its mouth.” The Han River produces clams, and within the clam is a luminous pearl.

When the moon appears at Mid-Autumn, the clam floats upon the water, opens its mouth, and holds the moonlight. Responding to it, the clam brings forth a pearl—the Pearl of Hepu. If the Mid-Autumn moon is bright, there are many pearls; if the moon is dim, there are few.

The monk asked, “What is the function of prajna?” Zhimen replied, “The rabbit conceives.” The meaning here is no different. The rabbit belongs to yin. When the moon rises at Mid-Autumn, it opens its mouth, swallows the moonlight, and immediately conceives, later giving birth through its mouth.

Likewise, if the moon is bright, it bears many; if the moon is dim, it bears few. There is no great complication in the ancient’s reply; he merely borrowed this idea to answer concerning the light of prajna. Even so, the meaning does not lie in the words and phrases; it is later people themselves who run about among words and phrases seeking a means of livelihood.

Panshan said, “The mind-moon is perfectly round in itself, its radiance embracing the myriad phenomena. The radiance does not illuminate objects, nor do objects remain. When both radiance and objects are forgotten, what is it?” People today merely stare wide-eyed and call that radiance.

They proceed by conceptual interpretation, driving nails into emptiness. The ancients said: All of you, at the gates of the six sense faculties, day and night emit a great radiance that shines through mountains, rivers, and the great earth. It is not only the eye faculty that emits light; the nose, tongue, body, and mind all emit light as well.

Upon arriving here, you must pound and crush the six faculties until not a single concern remains, stripped bare and openly revealed; only then can you see where this statement comes down. Xuedou versifies precisely this way:

VERSE: Nhất phiến hư ngưng tuyệt vị tình

Nhân thiên tùng thử kiến Không Sanh

Bạng hàm huyền thố thâm thâm ý

Tằng dữ thiền gia tác chiến tranh.

TRANSLATION: One boundless expanse of stillness, beyond conception;

From this, humans and devas behold Emptiness-Born.

The clam holds the moon-rabbit—profound beyond measure;

It once stirred up contention among practitioners of Zen.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the line “One boundless expanse of stillness, beyond conception,” Xuedou versifies exceedingly well; naturally, one can perceive the ancient’s meaning. What is this utter stillness of the six faculties? It is simply one expanse of empty luminosity, congealed in quiescence.

There is no need to race through the heavens in search of it, nor is it necessary to seek it from another. Naturally, the constant light is present before you; there, a wall rises a thousand fathoms. The two words “vị tình” in the Chinese text mean the utter cessation of language and the defilements of emotion.

Fayan’s verse on the Perfectly Accomplished Nature says: “When principle reaches its ultimate, thought and feeling are forgotten; how could any analogy equal it? At the very end, the moon on a frosty night naturally descends into the stream before us. The fruit ripens, and the gibbons cherish it together; the distant mountains seem to obscure the road.

Raising the head, the fading light remains—it was originally dwelling in the West.” (When principle reaches its ultimate, discussion and thought are forgotten; how could any analogy equal it? At the very end, the moon on a frosty night naturally descends into the stream before us. The fruit ripens, and the gibbons cherish it together; the distant mountains seem to obscure the road.

Raising the head, the faint light remains—it was originally in the West.) Therefore it is said: “Mind is the faculty, dharmas are its objects; the two are like marks upon a mirror. Once every stain is removed, the light appears; when mind and dharmas are both forgotten, the nature is immediately true.” It is also said: “From ancient times I have dwelt in three thatched rooms; one ray of wondrous light leaves the myriad scenes at rest.

Do not bring right and wrong for me to judge; though you circle about in your provisional deliberations, nothing adheres.” This verse alone also reveals “one boundless expanse of stillness, beyond conception.” In the line “From this, humans and devas behold Emptiness-Born,” Venerable Subhuti sat silently in the mountains, and the devas rained down flowers in praise. The Venerable asked, “Who is raining down flowers from the sky in praise?” The devas replied, “I am Brahma.” The Venerable asked, “Why do you praise me?” The devas replied, “I honor the Venerable One for skillfully expounding prajnaparamita.” The Venerable said, “Regarding prajna, I have never spoken a single word.

Why, then, do you praise me?” The devas replied, “The Venerable One does not speak, and I do not hear. Neither speaking nor hearing is true prajna.” Then they once again scattered flowers everywhere. Observe how Subhuti skillfully expounded prajna without speaking of its essence or function.

If you can see here, you can understand Zhimen’s words: “The clam holds the bright moon in its mouth; the rabbit conceives.” Although the ancient’s meaning does not lie in words and phrases, his reply nevertheless contains a profound meaning, prompting Xuedou to say, “The clam holds the moon-rabbit—profound beyond measure.” Upon arriving here, “It once stirred up contention among practitioners of Zen.” Shallow students of Zen busily deliberate and discuss, yet not one of them has even dreamed of it.

If you wish to investigate together with Zhimen and Xuedou, you must see it for yourself.