佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄

CASE 31: MAGU CIRCLES THE PLATFORM WITH HIS STAFF

INTRODUCTION: When there is movement, shadows appear; when there is awareness, ice forms. Yet if there is neither movement nor awareness, one has still not escaped entering the wild fox’s den. If one can trust it and penetrate it completely, there will no longer be even a hair’s breadth of obstruction—like a dragon finding water, like a tiger resting against a mountain. When released, tiles and bricks emit light; when grasped, pure gold loses its color. Yet the koans of the ancients cannot avoid covering and concealing. Tell me, what matter is being discussed? Let us see the case.

CASE: Magu, leaning on his staff, came to Zhangjing. He circled the meditation platform three times, struck his ringed staff once, and stood there solemnly. Zhangjing said, “Right! Right!” (Xuedou commented: “Wrong!”) Magu then went to Nanquan, circled the meditation platform three times, struck his ringed staff once, and stood there solemnly. Nanquan said, “Not right! Not right!” (Xuedou commented: “Wrong!”) Magu said, “Zhangjing said it was right. Why does the Venerable say it is not right?” Nanquan said, “Zhangjing is right, but you are not right. This is being turned about by the force of the wind and ultimately comes to decay and ruin.”

EXPLANATION: When the ancients journeyed on pilgrimage throughout the monasteries, they certainly kept this matter in mind, intent on discerning clearly whether the old venerable masters seated upon their wooden platforms possessed the clear eye or lacked the clear eye. If a single word of an ancient accorded, he stayed; if a single word did not accord, he departed. Observe how Magu came to Zhangjing, circled the meditation platform three times, struck his ringed staff once, and stood there solemnly.

Zhangjing said, “Right! Right!” The knife that kills and the sword that gives life must be the essential function of an adept. Xuedou said, “Wrong!” This falls into the two sides.

If you understand it in terms of either side, you do not perceive Xuedou’s intent. Why did Magu stand there solemnly? Why did Xuedou then say, “Wrong”?

Where was Magu’s error? Zhangjing said, “Right”; where was the rightness? Xuedou was like a judge seated to pronounce his verdict.

Magu carried the word “right” with him when he went to visit Nanquan. As before, he circled the meditation platform three times, struck his ringed staff once, and stood there solemnly. Nanquan said, “Not right!

Not right!” The knife that kills and the sword that gives life must be the essential function of a master of the School. Xuedou said, “Wrong!” Zhangjing said, “Right! Right!” while Nanquan said, “Not right!

Not right!” Are these the same or different? In the former part it was right, so why was it wrong? In the latter part he said it was not right, so why was that also wrong?

If you can advance beneath Zhangjing’s words, you still will not have finished saving yourself. If you can advance beneath Nanquan’s words, you are worthy of being a teacher of the Buddhas and patriarchs. Although it is so, Chan monks must realize it for themselves.

Do not discriminate through another person’s mouth. Magu asked in this manner: Why did one person say it was right while another said it was not right? If one is an accomplished adept who has mastered every direction and attained great liberation, one must surely possess a livelihood of one’s own.

If one has not yet forgotten objects and circumstances, one will certainly become trapped at these two ends. If one wishes to discern ancient and modern clearly and, while sitting, cut off the tongues of everyone in the world, one must understand these two errors. In the later passage, Xuedou’s verse likewise praises only these two errors.

Xuedou wished to reveal the lively, vital place, and therefore spoke in this way. One whose skin contains blood naturally does not form interpretations within words and phrases or construct principles upon a stake for tethering donkeys. Some say, “Xuedou uttered the two words ‘wrong’ on Magu’s behalf.” What connection does that have with the matter?

Do they not know that the ancients’ appended comments locked the essential gate tight? This side is also right, and that side is also right; ultimately, it does not lie on either side. Keeper of the Canon Qing said, “Leaning on the ringed staff and circling the meditation platform—both right and not right are wrong; in truth, it is not here either.” Have you not seen how Yongjia came to Caoxi to visit the Sixth Patriarch, circled the meditation platform three times, struck his ringed staff once, and stood there solemnly?

The Sixth Patriarch rebuked him: “A sramana should possess the three thousand forms of dignified conduct and the eighty thousand subtle practices. From what region has the Great Worthy come, harboring such great arrogance?” Why did the Sixth Patriarch say that he harbored great arrogance? This neither says “right” nor says “not right.” Both right and not right are stakes for tethering donkeys.

Only Xuedou’s two words “wrong” come somewhat close. Magu said, “Zhangjing said it was right. Why does the Venerable say it is not right?” This old fellow did not spare his eyebrows and exposed his tail more than a little.

Nanquan said, “Zhangjing is right, but you are not right.” Nanquan may well be said to have released the hawk upon seeing the rabbit. Keeper of the Canon Qing said, “Nanquan was excessively verbose. Once he had said it was not right, that should have been the end of it, yet he went on to add, ‘This is being turned about by the force of the wind and ultimately comes to decay and ruin.’” The Sutra of Perfect Enlightenment says: “This present body of mine exists through the conjunction of the four great elements.

Thus, hair, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, sinews, bones, marrow, brain, and impurities all belong to earth; saliva, blood, and pus all belong to water; warmth belongs to fire; and movement belongs to wind. When each of the four great elements separates, where can this illusory body be found?” Magu, holding his ringed staff and circling the meditation platform, had already been turned about by the force of the wind and ultimately came to decay and ruin.

Tell me, where is the ultimate revelation of the matter of the Mind School? Upon reaching this point, only one cast from iron and steel will do.

Have you not seen how the scholar Zhang Zhuo called upon Chan Master Zhizang of Xitang and asked, “Do the mountains, rivers, and great earth exist or not? Do the Buddhas of the three times exist or not?” Zhizang replied, “They exist.” Zhang Zhuo said, “Wrong!” Zhizang asked, “Whom have you previously visited?” Zhang Zhuo said, “I visited the Venerable Jingshan. Whatever I asked him, Jingshan always said did not exist.” Zhizang said, “What family dependents do you have?” Zhuo replied, “I have a rustic wife and two foolish children.” Zhizang further asked, “What family dependents does Jingshan have?” Zhuo replied, “The Venerable Jingshan is an ancient Buddha;

do not slander him.” Zhizang said, “Wait until you are like Jingshan, and then you may say that nothing exists.” Zhang Zhuo bowed his head and remained silent.

An accomplished master of the School must open seals and untie bonds for others, pull out nails and withdraw pegs. He cannot merely hold to one side: push on the left and he immediately turns to the right; push on the right and he immediately turns to the left. Observe how Yangshan went to Zhongyi to express gratitude for receiving the precepts.

Seeing him arrive, Zhongyi clapped his hands upon the meditation platform and said, “Venerable!” Yangshan immediately went and stood on the eastern side, then crossed over and stood on the western side, then crossed over and stood in the middle. Only afterward did he complete his expression of gratitude for the precepts, withdraw, and stand behind. Zhongyi asked, “Where did you attain this samadhi?” Yangshan replied, “I obtained it from the seal of Caoxi and brought it here.” Zhongyi asked, “Tell me, whom did Caoxi receive by means of this samadhi?” Yangshan replied, “He received the One-Night Enlightened One.” Yangshan then asked Zhongyi in return, “Venerable, where did you attain this samadhi?” Zhongyi said, “I attained this samadhi from Mazu.”

Speaking in this way, is he not one who, when one point is raised, understands three, who sees the root and knows the branches? Longya instructed the assembly, saying: “Those who undertake Chan study must penetrate beyond the Buddhas and Patriarchs before they can succeed. The Venerable Xinfeng said: Only when one regards the verbal teachings of the Buddhas and Patriarchs as mortal enemies does one have a part in Chan study.

If one cannot penetrate them, one will be deceived by the Buddhas and Patriarchs.” A monk came forward and asked: “Do the Patriarchs and Buddhas have the intention of deceiving people?” Longya replied: “Would you say that rivers and lakes have the intention of obstructing people?” He continued: “Although rivers and lakes have no intention of obstructing people, because people of the time cannot cross them, rivers and lakes become obstructions to them; therefore, one cannot say that rivers and lakes do not obstruct people.

Although the Patriarchs and Buddhas have no intention of deceiving people, because people of the time cannot penetrate them, the Patriarchs and Buddhas become deceivers of people; therefore, one also cannot say that the Patriarchs and Buddhas do not deceive people. If one can penetrate beyond the Patriarchs and Buddhas, one thereby surpasses the Patriarchs and Buddhas. One must personally realize the intent of the Patriarchs and Buddhas; only then can one be in accord with the ancient worthies in the matter of transcendence.

If one has not yet penetrated, then even though one studies the Buddhas and Patriarchs for ten thousand kalpas, there will be no day of attainment.” The monk asked: “How can one avoid being deceived by the Buddhas and Patriarchs?” Longya replied: “You must awaken for yourself!” Upon reaching this point, it must be so. Why? To act for another, one must act to the utmost; to kill a man, one must see blood.

Only people such as Nanquan and Xuedou dared to take this up and wield it.

VERSE:

This one is wrong, that one is wrong;

Above all, avoid taking hold of them.

Across the four seas the waves are calm;

The hundred rivers ebb with the tide.

The ancient goad, its wind lofty, reaches the twelve gates;

At every gate there is a road into utter stillness.

Not utter stillness—

An adept delights in seeking medicine when there is no illness.

TRANSLATION:

This one is wrong, that one is wrong;

Above all, avoid taking hold of them.

Across the four seas the waves subside;

The hundred rivers ebb with the tide.

The ancient goad, its wind lofty, reaches the twelve gates;

At every gate there is a road into utter stillness.

Not utter stillness—

An adept delights in seeking medicine when there is no illness.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: This verse is exactly like the koan in which Deshan went to call upon Guishan. First, Xuedou takes the koan, threads two turning words through it into a single strand, and then versifies it. “This one is wrong, that one is wrong; above all, avoid taking hold of them.” Xuedou means that here is one error and there is another error; above all, avoid taking hold of them, for to take hold of them is to go contrary.

The two words “is wrong” must be left just as they are. “Across the four seas the waves are calm; the hundred rivers ebb with the tide.” Indeed, the breeze is pure and the moon bright. If, on the basis of the two words “is wrong,” you gain understanding, there is nothing further: mountains are mountains and waters are waters; what is long is long of itself, and what is short is short of itself; every five days a wind, every ten days a rain.

Thus it is said: “Across the four seas the waves are calm; the hundred rivers ebb with the tide.” The latter part of the verse concerns Magu holding his staff: “The ancient goad, its wind lofty, reaches the twelve gates.” The ancients used a whip as a goad; the Chan school uses the staff as a goad. The Queen Mother of the West had twelve crimson gates by the Jade Pool. The ancient goad is the staff; the pure wind at the tip of the staff rises as high as the twelve crimson gates.

The dwelling places of the Son of Heaven and of Shakra each have twelve crimson gates. If one understands the two words “is wrong,” light shines from the tip of the staff, and even the ancient goad cannot be employed. An ancient said: “If you understand the staff, the work of a lifetime’s Chan study is complete.” It is also said: “It is not the effacing of form and the preservation of empty affairs; even the Tathagata’s jeweled staff still leaves traces.” This is of the same kind.

Upon reaching this point, though everything is topsy-turvy, at all times one attains great sovereignty and freedom. “At every gate there is a road into utter stillness.” Although there is a road, it is only utter stillness. At this point Xuedou himself knows that he has shown his tail, so once again he breaks it apart for you.

Nevertheless, there is also a place that is “not utter stillness.” Even an adept, when free of illness, should first seek this medicine and take it.

CASE 32: SENIOR MONK DING STANDS DUMBFOUNDED

POINTER: The ten directions are cut off and a thousand eyes immediately open; one phrase severs the stream and the myriad activities are utterly extinguished. Is there still one who shares the same birth and the same death? It is a ready-made koan, yet it cannot be arranged. As for the tangled vines of the ancient worthies, let us try bringing one up for examination.

KOAN: Senior Monk Ding asked Linji: “What is the great meaning of the Buddhadharma?” Linji stepped down from the Chan seat, seized him, gave him a slap, and immediately pushed him away. Senior Monk Ding stood dumbfounded. A monk standing nearby said: “Senior Monk Ding, why do you not bow?” Just as Senior Monk Ding bowed, he suddenly attained great awakening.

COMMENTARY: Look at him: straight out and straight in, straight there and straight back—only this is the authentic lineage of Linji, possessing such function. If one can penetrate it, one can turn heaven into earth and naturally enjoy its use. Senior Monk Ding was such a person. Struck once by Linji, he bowed, rose, and immediately knew where the matter came down. The Master was a northerner, exceedingly honest and forthright. After attaining realization, he did not establish a teaching lineage of his own. Later, he employed Linji’s pivotal method in its entirety and was indeed outstanding.

One day, while the Master was traveling, he encountered Yantou, Xuefeng, and Qinshan. Yantou asked: “Where have you come from?” The Master replied: “From Linji.” Yantou asked: “Is the Venerable well?” The Master said: “He has passed away.” Yantou said: “The three of us intended to seek him out and pay our respects, but our meritorious affinities are shallow and meager, and now we hear that he has passed away. We do not know what sayings the Venerable used during his lifetime.

Would you please recount a few cases for us?” The Master then recounted: “One day Linji instructed the assembly: ‘Upon this lump of red flesh there is a true person of no rank who is constantly going in and out through the gates of your faces. Those who have not yet verified this, look! Look!’ A monk came forward and asked: ‘What is the true person of no rank?’ Linji immediately seized him and said: ‘Speak!

Speak!’ The monk hesitated. Linji immediately pushed him away and said: ‘What true person of no rank? A dry lump of dung!’ Then he returned to the abbot’s quarters.” Yantou involuntarily stuck out his tongue.

Qinshan said: “Why did he not say, ‘not the true person of no rank’?” Senior Monk Ding seized him and said: “How far apart are the true person of no rank and not the true person of no rank? Speak quickly! Speak quickly!” Qinshan could say nothing, and his yellow face turned blue.

Yantou and Xuefeng came forward, bowed, and said: “This monk is a beginner who does not know right from wrong and has offended you, Senior Monk. We humbly beg you, in your compassion, to forgive him.” The Master said: “Were it not for the entreaties of these two old teachers, I would kill this bed-wetting demon!”

On another day, the Master was returning from a meal offering in Zhenzhou. When he reached a bridge, he encountered three sutra lecturers. One of them asked: “What is the place where the river of Chan is so deep that it reaches the very bottom?” The Master seized him and was about to throw him off the bridge. The other two lecturers hurriedly cried out: “Stop! Stop! He has offended you, Senior Monk; we beg you, in your compassion, to forgive him.” The Master said: “Were it not for the entreaties of these two lecturers, I would let him descend all the way to the bottom.” Observe the Master’s methods: they were entirely the function of Linji. Xuedou versified it as follows:

VERSE:

Duanji’s entire dynamic—the later one followed in his tracks;

Once brought forth, how could there be any leisurely delay?

Among the mighty hands, how many are like the Great Spirit?

He split Mount Hua apart through ten thousand layers.

TRANSLATION:

Duanji’s entire dynamic—the successor followed in his tracks;

Once brought forth, how could there be any leisurely delay?

Among the mighty hands, how many are like the Great Spirit?

He split Mount Hua apart through ten thousand layers.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou versifies: “Duanji’s entire dynamic—the later one followed in his tracks; once brought forth, how could there be any leisurely delay?” Huangbo’s great dynamic and great function were inherited solely by Linji, who followed in his tracks. Once he had grasped it and brought it forth, he allowed no thought or deliberation; if one hesitates, one immediately falls into the skandhas and dhatus.

The Shurangama Sutra says: “When I press down my finger, the ocean-seal emits light; as soon as you give rise to a thought, the defilements arise and cling.” The two lines, “Among the mighty hands, how many are like the Great Spirit? He split Mount Hua apart through ten thousand layers,” refer to the god known as the Great Spirit, who possessed immense divine power. With his hand he split Mount Taihua, causing the waters to surge forth and flow into the Yellow River.

Senior Monk Ding’s mass of doubt was like earth piled up and mountains amassed; struck once by Linji, it immediately shattered like tiles and melted away like ice.

CASE 33: CHEN CAO HAS ONE EYE COMPLETE

INTRODUCTION: East and West are not distinguished; South and North are not differentiated. From dawn until dusk, from dusk until dawn—would you then say that he is dozing? At times his eyes are like shooting stars—would you then say that he is wide awake? At times he calls South North. Tell me, does he have a mind or no mind? Is he a person of the Way or an ordinary person? Only if you can penetrate this will you know where it comes down, and know how the ancients were thus and yet not thus. Tell me, what occasion is this? Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Minister Chen Cao went to consult Sifu. Upon seeing him arrive, Sifu immediately drew a circle. Cao said, “For this disciple merely to come like this was already inappropriate from the outset, much less for you to draw another circle.” Sifu immediately shut the door of the abbot’s quarters. (Xuedou said, “Chen Cao had only one eye.”)

COMMENTARY: Minister Chen Cao was a contemporary of Pei Xiu and Li Ao. Whenever he saw a monk arrive, he first invited him to a vegetarian meal, then presented him with three hundred coins, and afterward examined him.

One day Yunmen came to meet him. Chen Cao asked, “I will not ask about the Confucian classics. The Three Vehicles and the twelve divisions of the teachings naturally have their lecturers. What is the matter of journeying on foot within the house of Chan?”

Yunmen asked, “How many people has the Minister already questioned?”

Cao said, “Right now I am asking you, Venerable.”

Yunmen said, “Set aside ‘right now’ for the moment. What is the essential meaning of the teachings?”

Cao said, “Yellow scrolls on red rollers.”

Yunmen said, “That is written language and spoken words. What is the essential meaning of the teachings?”

Cao said, “The mouth wishes to discuss it, but words are lost; the mind wishes to engage it, but thought is forgotten.”

Yunmen said, “‘The mouth wishes to discuss it, but words are lost’ is in contrast to speech; ‘the mind wishes to engage it, but thought is forgotten’ is in contrast to deluded thinking. What is the essential meaning of the teachings?”

Cao was left speechless.

Yunmen asked, “I hear that the Minister reads the Lotus Sutra. Is that so?”

Cao said, “It is.”

Yunmen said, “The sutra says, ‘All livelihoods and productive occupations are in no way contrary to the true aspect.’ Tell me, how many people in the Heaven of Neither Perception nor Non-Perception have presently fallen back from their station?”

Cao was again left speechless.

Yunmen said, “Minister, do not act rashly. Chan monks cast aside the three sutras and five treatises and enter the monasteries for ten or twenty years, yet still gain nothing. How, then, could the Minister possibly understand?”

Chen Cao bowed and said, “I am at fault.”

On another day, he ascended a tower with several officials and saw a number of monks approaching. One official said, “Those coming over there are all Chan monks.”

Cao said, “They are not.”

The official asked, “How do you know they are not?”

Cao said, “Wait until they draw near, and I will expose them for you.”

When the monks reached the front of the tower, Cao called loudly, “Venerables!” The monks raised their heads and looked up.

Cao said to the officials, “I told you, but you did not believe me.”

Only Yunmen could not be exposed by him, because Yunmen had already consulted Muzhou.

One day, Cao went to consult Sifu. Upon seeing him arrive, Sifu immediately drew a circle. Sifu was a venerable master in the Guiyang lineage and ordinarily liked to receive people by presenting situations. When he saw Chen Cao, he immediately drew a circle. How could he have known that Chen Cao was an adept who could not be deceived by others? Cao skillfully examined himself and said, “For this disciple merely to come like this was already inappropriate from the outset; how could I endure your drawing another circle?” Sifu shut the door of the abbot’s quarters.

This kind of case is called “discerning the target within the words and concealing the pivotal mechanism within the phrase.” Xuedou said, “Chen Cao had only one eye.” Xuedou may indeed be called one who had an eye atop his crown. Tell me, where does the meaning lie? He too skillfully bestowed a circle. If everything were like this, how could the house of Chan act for people?

Let me ask you: if you had been Chen Cao at that time, what words should you have uttered to avoid Xuedou’s saying that you had only one eye? Therefore, Xuedou overturned the matter and versified it:

VERSE:

Đoàn đoàn châu nhiễu ngọc san san

Mã tải lư đà thượng thiết thoàn

Phân phó hải sơn vô sự khách

Điếu ngao thời hạ nhất khuyên loan.

TRANSLATION:

Round and round, pearls revolve, while jade rings clear;

Horses carry and donkeys haul them onto the iron boat.

Entrust the seas and mountains to the guest with nothing to do;

To fish for the giant sea turtle, one should lower a single curved circle.

Xuedou further said, “Chan monks everywhere will find it difficult to leap free.”

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the two lines, “Round and round, pearls revolve, while jade rings clear; horses carry and donkeys haul them onto the iron boat,” Xuedou presents it directly from the outset, versifying only the appearance of the circle. If you can understand it, you will be like a tiger that has grown horns. Here you must be like a bucket with its bottom fallen out, the mechanism brought to a halt, gain and loss, right and wrong, all relinquished at once. There is no need to comprehend a principle, nor may you give rise to an understanding of something mysterious and wondrous. Ultimately, how should it be understood? You must look into it through “Horses carry and donkeys haul them onto the iron boat.”

It cannot be entrusted elsewhere; it must be “Entrust the seas and mountains to the guest with nothing to do.” If there remains even the slightest matter in your heart, you will be unable to take responsibility for it. Here one must be a person who, whether there is something to do or nothing to do, whether encountering adverse circumstances or favorable conditions, cannot be affected by either Buddha or Patriarch. Only such a person is worthy of taking responsibility for it. If there is Chan to be investigated, or conceptual measures of ordinary and sage, you will certainly be unable to take responsibility for it.

Once you have taken responsibility for it, how should it be understood? He says, “To fish for the giant sea turtle, one should lower a single curved circle.” To fish for the giant sea turtle, you must lower the hook. Therefore, Fengxue said, “Accustomed to fishing for whales and sea monsters in the vast, surging expanse, I lament instead the frogs leaping upon muddy sand.” He also said, “Great sea turtle, do not carry the three mountains away; I wish to roam upon the summit of Penglai.”

Xuedou further said, “Chan monks everywhere will find it difficult to leap free.” If one is a great sea turtle, one never gives rise to the conceptual understanding of a Chan monk. If one is a Chan monk, one never gives rise to the conceptual understanding of a great sea turtle.

CASE 34: YANGSHAN HAD NEVER ROAMED THE MOUNTAIN

CASE: Yangshan asked a monk, “Where have you just come from?”

The monk replied, “Mount Lu.”

Yangshan asked, “Did you ever roam the Five Elders Peak?”

The monk replied, “I never went there.”

Yangshan said, “Acharya, you have never roamed the mountain.”

(Yunmen said, “Because these words were spoken out of compassion, they fell into the weeds.”)

COMMENTARY: To test someone who has arrived at the ultimate point, one need only utter a word and immediately there is a kindred understanding. An ancient said, “A person of immeasurable greatness turns freely within the current of words.” If one possesses the eye at the crown of the head, the moment something is brought up, one knows where it comes down. Observe that question and answer: they are perfectly clear and distinct.

Why, then, did Yunmen say, “Because these words were spoken out of compassion, they fell into the weeds”? When the ancients reached this point, they were like a bright mirror on its stand or a luminous pearl in the palm: when a Hu came, a Hu appeared; when a Han came, a Han appeared. Not even a single fly could pass unnoticed.

Say, what does it mean that, because of compassion, the words fell into the weeds? It is indeed perilously difficult. Upon reaching this ground, only a true person can grasp it.

Yunmen raised the case, saying, “This monk had just come from Mount Lu; why did Yangshan say, ‘You have never traveled in the mountains’?” One day Guishan asked Yangshan, “When monks come from various places, what do you use to test them?” Yangshan replied, “I have a way of testing them.” Guishan said, “Try presenting it.” Yangshan said, “Ordinarily, whenever I see a monk arrive, I merely raise my whisk and say to him, ‘Do they have this in other places?’ I wait until he has something to say, then merely tell him, ‘Set this aside for now; what about that?’” Guishan said, “These are the fangs and claws of one who faces upward.”

Have you not seen how Mazu asked Baizhang, “Where have you come from?” Baizhang replied, “From below the mountain.” Mazu asked, “Did you meet anyone on the road?” Baizhang replied, “I did not meet anyone.” Mazu asked, “Why did you not meet anyone?” Baizhang replied, “Had I met anyone, I would have presented him to the Venerable.” Mazu asked, “Where did you obtain this news?” Baizhang replied, “I am at fault.” Mazu said, “It is this old monk who is at fault.”

Yangshan’s questioning of the monk was precisely of this kind. When Yangshan asked, “Have you ever been to Five Elders Peak?” if this monk had been a clear-eyed person, he would simply have replied, “A calamitous affair!” Yet instead he answered, “I have never been there.” Since this monk was no adept, why did Yangshan not simply act according to the imperative and spare us the mass of vines and creepers that followed? Yangshan further said, “You have never traveled in the mountains.” Therefore Yunmen said, “Because these words were spoken out of compassion, they fell into the weeds.” Had they been words that emerged from the weeds, they would not have been like this.

VERSE: Emerging from the weeds, entering the weeds—

Who understands how to seek?

White clouds, layer upon layer;

The red sun, radiant and bright.

Looking to the left, there is no flaw;

Glancing to the right, one has already grown old.

Do you not see Hanshanzi,

Who set out far too early?

For ten years he could not return,

Having forgotten the road by which he came.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: In the two lines, “Emerging from the weeds, entering the weeds—who understands how to seek?” Xuedou already knew where he came down. Arriving here, with one hand he lifts up and with the other he presses down, saying, “White clouds, layer upon layer; the red sun, radiant and bright.” This resembles, “The grass is green and luxuriant; the clouds are gray and dense.” Here, not a single hair belongs to the ordinary, and not a single hair belongs to the sacred. Throughout the whole realm it has never been concealed; nothing whatsoever can cover it. Therefore it is called “the realm of no-mind”: in cold one does not perceive cold, and in heat one does not perceive heat. It is entirely the gate of great liberation.

The two lines, “Looking to the left, there is no flaw; glancing to the right, one has already grown old,” have a meaning similar to the story of the Venerable Lanzan, who lived in seclusion in a stone chamber on Mount Heng. When Emperor Suzong of the Tang heard of the Master’s reputation, he sent an envoy to summon him. The envoy arrived at the chamber and cried aloud, “The Son of Heaven has issued a decree.

Venerable sir, you should rise, bow, and give thanks for his grace.” The Master reached into a heap of cow dung, found a roasted yam, peeled it, and began eating. Mucus streamed from his nose, yet he gave the envoy no reply. The envoy laughed and said, “May I urge the Venerable to wipe his nose?” The Master said, “How could I have leisure to wipe my nose for a worldly person?” In the end he did not go.

The envoy returned and reported this to the emperor, who admired and praised him.

One of this kind is limpid and clear, pure and spotless, unwilling to submit to another’s judgment. He has certainly attained stability, as though cast from iron and steel. Likewise, after the Venerable Shandao was expelled, he never again became a monk. People called him the Layman of the Stone Chamber. Whenever he hulled rice with a foot-operated pestle, he would forget to raise his foot. A monk asked Linji, “What is the essential meaning of the Layman of the Stone Chamber forgetting to raise his foot?” Linji replied, “Utterly sunk into a deep pit.”

Fayan composed a verse on the Perfectly Accomplished Nature:

Xuedou said, “Do you not see Hanshanzi, who set out far too early? For ten years he could not return, having forgotten the road by which he came.” Hanshanzi’s poem says:

Yongjia said, “Mind is the root; dharmas are the dust. The two are like marks upon a mirror. When every stain has been removed, its light first appears. When mind and dharmas are both forgotten, the nature is true.” Upon reaching this point, only by being as foolish as an idiot can one see this koan. If one has not reached this ground and merely runs about within words, when will one ever be finished?

CASE 35: MANJUSRI’S THREE AND THREE BEFORE, THREE AND THREE AFTER

POINTER: To determine dragons and snakes, distinguish jade from stone, discern black from white, and resolve uncertainty—unless one has an eye at the crown of the head and a numinous talisman in one’s hand, one will frequently let what is directly before one slip by in error. Yet just now, seeing and hearing are not mistaken; sound and form are pure and true. Say, are they black or white, crooked or straight? Upon reaching this point, how will you distinguish them?

CASE: Manjusri asked Wuzhuo, “Where have you just come from?” Wuzhuo replied, “The South.” Manjusri asked, “How is the Buddhadharma maintained in the South?” Wuzhuo replied, “In this age of the decline of the Dharma, few bhiksus observe the precepts.” Manjusri asked, “How large are the communities?” Wuzhuo replied, “Perhaps three hundred, perhaps five hundred.” Wuzhuo asked Manjusri, “How is it maintained here?” Manjusri replied, “Ordinary beings and sages dwell together; dragons and snakes are intermingled.” Wuzhuo asked, “How large is the community?” Manjusri replied, “Three and three before; three and three after.”

COMMENTARY: Wuzhuo was traveling on Mount Wutai. Midway along his journey, in a desolate and remote place, Manjusri conjured a monastery to receive the Master for the night. Manjusri asked, “Where have you just come from?” Wuzhuo replied, “The South.” Manjusri asked, “How is the Buddhadharma maintained in the South?” Wuzhuo replied, “In this age of the decline of the Dharma, few bhiksus observe the precepts.” Manjusri asked, “How large are the communities?” Wuzhuo replied, “Perhaps three hundred, perhaps five hundred.” Wuzhuo asked Manjusri, “How is it maintained here?” Manjusri replied, “Ordinary beings and sages dwell together; dragons and snakes are intermingled.” Wuzhuo asked, “How large is the community?” Manjusri replied, “Three and three before; three and three after.”

While they were drinking tea, Manjusri raised a crystal cup and asked, “Do you have this in the South?” Wuzhuo replied, “No.” Manjusri asked, “What do you ordinarily use to drink tea?” Wuzhuo was struck speechless. He then took his leave, and Manjusri ordered the attendant Junti to escort him to the gate.

Wuzhuo asked Junti, “When he said just now, ‘Three and three before; three and three after,’ did he mean many or few?” Junti called out, “Great Virtuous One!” Wuzhuo responded at once, “Yes!” Junti asked, “Many or few?” Wuzhuo then asked, “What monastery is this?” Junti pointed behind him to the Vajra Monastery. When Wuzhuo turned his head to look, the conjured monastery and the attendant had both vanished from sight; there was only an empty cave. That place was thereafter called the Vajra Cave.

A monk asked Phong Huyệt, “What is the host within Mount Thanh Lương?” Phong Huyệt replied, “One phrase left no leisure for Vô Trước to ask; even now he remains a rustic monk.” If you wish to penetrate the level and genuine place, planting your feet upon solid ground, you must advance directly beneath the Master’s words; then naturally, even in a cauldron of boiling oil or a fiery furnace, you will not feel the heat, and even upon freezing ice, you will not feel the cold.

If you wish to penetrate the lofty and perilous place, like the precious sword of the Vajra King, you must advance directly beneath Văn-thù’s words; then naturally, water poured upon you will not cling, and wind blowing upon you will not enter. Địa Tạng Quế Sâm of Chương Châu asked a monk, “Where have you just come from?” The monk replied, “The South.” Địa Tạng asked, “How is the Buddha Dharma there?” The monk replied, “There is noisy contention and dispute.” Địa Tạng said, “How could that compare with my being here, planting rice, cooking it, and eating?” Tell me: is this the same as Văn-thù’s answer or different?

Some say, “The Master’s answer is wrong, while Văn-thù’s answer contains dragons and snakes, ordinary beings and sages.” If you understand it this way, what connection is there? Can you clearly discern “three by three before and three by three after”? The first arrow is still light; the second penetrates very deeply.

Tell me: is it many or few? If you can penetrate here, then a thousand phrases and ten thousand phrases are simply one phrase. If, directly beneath a single phrase, you can cut through, grasp it, and stand firm, then at that very moment you attain this realm.

VERSE: Thiên phong bàn khuất sắc như lam

Thùy vị Văn-thù thị đối đàm

Kham tiếu Thanh Lương đa thiểu chúng

Tiền tam tam dữ hậu tam tam.

TRANSLATION: A thousand peaks encircle, their color like indigo;

Who says that Văn-thù engaged him in discourse?

How laughable—the assembly at Thanh Lương, how many were there?

Three by three before, and three by three after.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Regarding the two lines, “A thousand peaks encircle, their color like indigo; who says that Văn-thù engaged him in discourse?” some say that Tuyết Đậu merely presented the case again once and never actually composed a verse on it. It is like when a monk asked Pháp Nhãn, “What is a single drop from the source of Tào?” Pháp Nhãn replied, “A single drop from the source of Tào.” Again, a monk asked Venerable Giác of Lang Nha, “Originally there is purity; why did mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?” Giác replied, “Originally there is purity; why did mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?” Is this also to be called merely presenting it again once?

Minh Chiêu, known as the One-Eyed Dragon, composed a verse whose meaning contains a function that covers heaven and earth:

“Pervading the worlds countless as sands, surpassing monasteries,

Before one’s very eyes, Văn-thù engages him in discourse.

If beneath the phrase one cannot open the Buddha-eye,

Turning one’s head, one sees only the indigo mountain summits.”

The line “Pervading the worlds countless as sands, surpassing monasteries” points to a conjured monastery within a cave among the grasses; thus it is said that provisional and real functions operate together. The three lines, “Before one’s very eyes, Văn-thù engages him in discourse. If beneath the phrase one cannot open the Buddha-eye, turning one’s head, one sees only the indigo mountain summits”—at that very moment, can this be called the realm of Văn-thù, Phổ Hiền, and Quán Âm?

Yet it is not this principle. Tuyết Đậu merely transformed Minh Chiêu’s function, making additions and omissions. The line “A thousand peaks encircle, their color like indigo” does not leave hands scraped or feet wounded; within the phrase are the provisional and the real, principle and phenomena.

As for the line “Who says that Văn-thù engaged him in discourse?” they conversed through the entire night, yet he did not recognize Văn-thù. Later, when Vô Trước served as chief cook on Mount Ngũ Đài, whenever Văn-thù appeared above the porridge pot, Vô Trước struck him with the porridge paddle. Even so, this was still drawing the bow only after the bandit had passed.

At the very moment of the question, “How is the Buddha Dharma maintained in the South?” if he had struck straight at the spine, he would have come somewhat close. As for the line “How laughable—the assembly at Thanh Lương, how many were there?” there is a blade within Tuyết Đậu’s laughter. If you understand this laughter, you immediately perceive “three by three before, and three by three after.”

CASE 36: TRƯỜNG SA—FRAGRANT GRASS AND FALLEN BLOSSOMS

PUBLIC CASE: One day, Trường Sa returned from wandering in the mountains. When he reached the gate, the head monk asked, “Venerable, where have you been?” Trường Sa replied, “I have returned from wandering in the mountains.” The head monk asked, “Where did you go?” Trường Sa replied, “At first I followed the fragrant grass; later I returned with the falling blossoms.” The head monk said, “It greatly resembles the spirit of spring.” Trường Sa said, “It is still better than a drop of autumn dew upon a lotus blossom.” (Tuyết Đậu added the remark: “A grateful reply.”)

EXPLANATION: Great Master Chiêu Hiền of Lộc Uyển at Trường Sa was a Dharma successor of Nam Tuyền and a companion of Triệu Châu and Tử Hồ. The Master’s pivotal activity was swift and keen. If someone asked about a sutra, he answered with a sutra; if a verse was required, he answered with a verse.

If you wished for an adept to meet an adept, he would meet you as an adept. Ngưỡng Sơn’s pivotal activity was ordinarily truly foremost. One day, while viewing the moon with Trường Sa, Ngưỡng Sơn pointed to the moon and said, “Everyone possesses this completely; it is only that they cannot use it.” Trường Sa said, “Very well, I shall use it on your behalf.” Ngưỡng Sơn said, “Uncle-Master, show me how you use it!” Trường Sa kicked him and knocked him down.

Ngưỡng Sơn rose and said, “Uncle-Master, you are like a tiger.” Later generations called him “The Tiger Sầm.” One day, when Trường Sa returned from wandering in the mountains, the head monk, who was also a member of the Master’s assembly, asked, “Venerable, where have you been?” Trường Sa replied, “I have returned from wandering in the mountains.” The head monk asked, “Where did you go?” Trường Sa replied, “At first I followed the fragrant grass; later I returned with the falling blossoms.” Only one who has cut off the ten directions while seated could do this.

In their coming and going, the ancients never failed to keep this matter in mind. Observe how host and guest alternately turn, cutting straight through according to the occasion, neither yielding to the other. Since he had been wandering in the mountains, why ask where he had gone?

A Chan monk of the present day would immediately reply, “I have returned from the pavilion on Mount Giáp.” Clearly, the ancients had not the slightest trace of comparative reasoning, nor any place of attachment; therefore he said, “At first I followed the fragrant grass; later I returned with the falling blossoms.” The head monk, following his meaning, said, “It greatly resembles the spirit of spring.” Trường Sa said, “It is still better than a drop of autumn dew upon a lotus blossom.” Tuyết Đậu said, “A grateful reply.” This acts on behalf of the final word; it also falls into the two sides, yet ultimately it does not abide on either side.

Long ago, the scholar Trương Chuyết, while reading the Sutra of the Names of a Thousand Buddhas, asked Trường Sa, “We hear only the names of hundreds of thousands of Buddhas, but we do not know in which lands they dwell. Do they also teach and transform beings?” Trường Sa replied, “After Thôi Hạo inscribed his poem on Yellow Crane Tower, did you, Scholar, ever compose one there?” Chuyết replied, “I never did.” Trường Sa said, “When you have leisure, it would be good to compose a piece.” Throughout his life, the Tiger Sầm, in guiding people, was always like a pearl revolving and jade turning; he required only that the person facing him understand immediately.

VERSE: Đại địa tuyệt tiêm ai

Hà nhân nhãn bất khai

Thủy tùy phương thảo khứ

Hựu trục lạc hoa hồi

Luy hạc kiều hàn mộc

Cuồng viên khiếu cổ đài

Trường Sa vô hạn ý.

Kaatz!

TRANSLATION: Throughout the great earth, not a speck of dust;

Whose eyes do not open?

At first he followed the fragrant grass;

Then he returned with the falling blossoms.

A gaunt crane perches upon a cold tree;

A wild ape cries upon the ancient terrace.

Trường Sa’s meaning is boundless.

Kaatz!

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Tell me, compare this koan with the following: “Yangshan asked a monk, ‘Where have you just come from?’ The monk said, ‘From Mount Lu.’ Yangshan asked, ‘Did you ever reach Five Elders Peak?’ The monk said, ‘I never did.’ Yangshan said, ‘Acarya, you have never roamed the mountain.’” Distinguish black from white and see whether they are the same or different. On arriving here, the mechanism must break down, consciousness must vanish, and mountains, rivers, the great earth, grasses, trees, humans, and animals must not leak through in the slightest degree.

If it is not so, the ancients said that one still remains within the realm of sublime wonder. Yunmen said, “Even if you attain to mountains, rivers, and the great earth being without the slightest fault, this is still a ‘turning phrase.’ Not seeing any form at all is only ‘half the matter raised.’ You must also know the pivotal opportunity of the whole matter raised—the essential point of transcendence—before you know how to sit securely.” If you penetrate it, then, as before, mountains are mountains and waters are waters; each remains in its original position, and each manifests its own essence—like the clapping of a blind man.

Zhaozhou said, “At the cock’s early crow I wake; how sorrowful that I am still so destitute. I have neither undershorts nor undershirt, though I retain some semblance of a kasaya. My trousers have no seat, my loincloth has no opening; on my head are three or five pecks of blue-gray ashes.

Originally I practiced in order to benefit and save others—who knew I would become a useless fellow?” If you truly attain this realm, then “Whose eyes would not open?” Even if everything is turned seven times upside down and eight times awry, everywhere is this realm and all times are this season; the sky in the ten directions is empty, and on all four sides there is not even a gate. Therefore it is said, “At first, following the fragrant grasses, he went; later, following the fallen flowers, he returned.” Xuedou is truly skillful: he merely pastes one line on the right and another on the left, and it immediately becomes a poem: “A gaunt crane perches on a cold tree;

a wild ape cries from an ancient terrace.” Having led us this far, Xuedou himself realizes that he has shown his tail, so he says, “Changsha’s meaning is boundless—bah!” It is like suddenly awakening from a dream.

Though Xuedou lets out a shout, he still has not washed it clean. If it were this mountain monk, I would not do so: “Changsha’s meaning is boundless—dig up the earth and bury it deep again.”

CASE 37: PANSHAN—IN THE THREE REALMS THERE IS NO DHARMA

INTRODUCTORY WORD: The lightning-swift mechanism makes deliberation vain; when thunder sounds in the empty sky, how could you cover your ears in time? A red banner is planted atop your head, and behind your ears two swords are brandished. Unless your eyes are swift and your hands quick, how could you seize it? There is a kind of person who lowers his head and reflects, calculating beneath the faculty of thought; how could he know that before his skull countless ghosts are appearing? Tell me: without falling into the faculty of thought and without harboring gain and loss, if this were suddenly brought up, how would you respond? Let us see it brought forth.

KOAN: Panshan instructed, “In the three realms there is no Dharma; where can mind be sought?”

COMMENTARY: The Venerable Baoji of Panshan, north of Youzhou, was a venerable master in Mazu’s lineage. Later, Puhua emerged from his community. When the Master was about to pass away, he told the assembly, “Is there anyone who can portray my likeness?” They all drew portraits and presented them to the Master, but he rebuked every one.

Puhua came forward and said, “I can portray it.” The Master said, “Why do you not present it to this old monk?” Puhua immediately turned a somersault and went out. The Master said, “In the future, this fellow will receive people like a madman.” One day the Master instructed the assembly: “In the three realms there is no Dharma; where can mind be sought? The four great elements are originally empty; on what could the Buddha abide?

The jeweled spring does not move, still and silent without flaw. Face-to-face we present it to one another; beyond this there is no other matter.” Xuedou picked out two lines and composed a verse on them, but he certainly mixed gold with jade. Have you not heard it said, “For intermittent fever, there is no need of lodhra medicine”?

Why does this mountain monk strike as soon as the words are uttered? Only because that man comes wearing a cangue to lodge a complaint. An ancient said, “Hear the sound beyond the words; do not seek within the meaning.” Tell me, what is his meaning?

Then you can run swiftly and leap quickly, like a flash of lightning or a shooting star. If you deliberate and calculate, even if a thousand Buddhas appeared in the world, they could not seek him out. If you enter deeply into the mold, penetrating to the bones and marrow, and see through it completely, then Panshan has utterly failed.

If you rely on words to understand the essential principle, turning your face this way and that, then Panshan is merely a single stake. If you cling to mud and are mired in water, circling within the mass of sound and form, you have not even dreamed of seeing Panshan. My late teacher Wuzu said, “Only after penetrating to the other side do you have a share of freedom.” Have you not seen the Third Patriarch say, “Cling to it and you lose the measure, inevitably entering a false path.

Let it go naturally: its essence neither departs nor abides.” If, within this, you say there is no Buddha and no Dharma, you have crawled into a ghost cave. The ancients called this the deep pit of liberation: it is originally a wholesome cause, yet it brings forth a bitter result. Therefore it is said that even the person of nonaction and no concerns still suffers the calamity of the golden chains.

You must reach the ultimate and final point. If you can speak where there are no words and act where action cannot reach, this is called the place of turning the body. As for the line, “In the three realms there is no Dharma; where can mind be sought?”—if you give rise to conceptual understanding, you will drown beneath those very words.

Xuedou’s vision penetrated seven ways and passed through eight, and so he brought forth this verse:

VERSE: In the three realms there is no Dharma—

Where can mind be sought?

White clouds form a canopy;

The flowing spring plays the lute.

One tune, two tunes—no one understands;

Rain passes over the night pond; the autumn water is deep.

TRANSLATION: In the three realms there is no Dharma—

Where can mind be sought?

White clouds form a canopy;

The flowing spring plays the lute.

One tune, two tunes—no one understands;

Rain falls on the night pond; the autumn water is deep.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: The line “In the three realms there is no Dharma; where can mind be sought?” is rendered by Xuedou in a verse resembling the realm of the Avatamsaka. Some say that Xuedou has proclaimed emptiness within. A person whose eyes are open would never understand it this way.

Alongside it, Xuedou pastes these two lines: “White clouds form a canopy; the flowing spring plays the lute.” Su Dongpo, after visiting Zhaojue, composed this verse: “The sound of the valley stream is indeed the broad, long tongue; the color of the mountains is truly the pure body. During the night come eighty-four thousand verses—on another day, how could I tell them to others?” Xuedou borrows the flowing spring as the broad, long tongue.

Therefore he says, “One tune, two tunes—no one understands.” Venerable Qian of Jiufeng said, “Do you know the life-breath? The flowing spring is the life-breath; stillness is the body. A thousand waves rising in rivalry are Manjusri’s family style; the clear sky of a single dawn is Samantabhadra’s realm.” “The flowing spring plays the lute; one tune, two tunes—no one understands.” This kind of melody can be understood only by one who knows the music.

If it is not that person, it is futile to incline the ear. An ancient said, “A deaf man sings a foreign melody; whether fine or poor, low or high, he hears none of it.” Yunmen said, “Raise it without attending to it, and you immediately go wrong; try to deliberate, and in what kalpa will you awaken?” Raising it is the essence; attending to it is the function. Before it is raised, when the first signs have not yet divided, to see it is to sit astride and cut off the essential ford.

If you see it just as the first signs begin to divide, there is illumination and function. If you see it after the first signs have already divided, you have fallen into the faculty of thought. Xuedou is exceedingly compassionate and tells you further, “Rain passes over the night pond; the autumn water is deep.” Many people have discussed this verse and praised Xuedou for possessing the talent of a Hanlin scholar.

As for the line, “Rain passes over the night pond; the autumn water is deep,” you must look with swift eyes. If you hesitate and doubt, no amount of discussion will bring it forth.

CASE 38: FENGXUE—THE MIND-SEAL OF THE PATRIARCHS

INTRODUCTORY WORD: If we discuss the Gradual, it runs contrary to the ordinary yet accords with the Way, crisscrossing freely amid the clamor. If we discuss the Sudden, it leaves no trace; even a thousand sages could not search it out. But if neither Sudden nor Gradual is established, then what? For a capable person, one word; for a fine horse, one stroke of the whip. At precisely this moment, who is the author? Let us see it brought forth.

CASE: Fengxue, at the government office in Yingzhou, ascended the hall and said: “The mind-seal of the Patriarchs is like the mechanism of an iron ox: when it moves, the seal follows; when it stops, the seal is broken. But if it neither moves nor stops, is sealing correct, or is not sealing correct?” At that time Elder Lupi came forward from the assembly and asked: “I have the mechanism of an iron ox. I ask the Master not to place his hand upon the seal.” Fengxue said: “Accustomed to angling for whales and leviathans in the vast depths, I now lament to see a frog floundering in muddy sand.” Lupi stopped and pondered.

Fengxue shouted: “Elder, why do you not speak?” Lupi deliberated. Fengxue struck him once with the whisk and said: “Do you still remember the point of the story? Try bringing it up.” Lupi was about to open his mouth.

Fengxue struck him again with the whisk. Muzhou said: “The Buddha-Dharma and the law of the sovereign are of one kind.” Fengxue asked: “What principle do you perceive?” Muzhou said: “When a decision is called for, failure to decide invites disorder.” Fengxue immediately descended from the seat.

COMMENTARY: Fengxue was a venerable adept of the Linji school. In the beginning, while Linji was in Huangbo’s assembly, he went to plant pine trees. Huangbo asked: “Why plant so many pines deep in the mountains?” Linji replied: “First, to create scenery for the monastery; second, to serve as a signpost for those who come later.” Having said this, he struck the ground once with his hoe.

Huangbo said: “Even so, you have already received twenty blows from me.” Linji struck the ground once more and uttered, “Xu, xu!” Huangbo said: “With you, my school will flourish throughout the world.” Xietang of Guishan said: “Linji at that moment was like someone stumbling on level ground. Even so, one who does not change when facing danger is a true man of valor. Huangbo’s saying, ‘With you, my school will flourish throughout the world,’ was like doting on one’s child without noticing the foul smell.” Later Guishan asked Yangshan: “At that time, did Huangbo entrust the Dharma solely to Linji, or was there someone else?” Yangshan replied: “There was another, but because the time is still far off, I dare not tell you, Venerable, beforehand.” Guishan said: “Even so, I still wish to know.

Tell me.” Yangshan replied: “One person points south; his command will extend through Wu and Yue. On encountering the Great Wind, he will cease.” This was a prophecy referring to Fengxue.

Fengxue first studied with Xuefeng for five years. On one occasion he asked about the story: “When Linji entered the hall, the two head monks of the eastern and western halls shouted simultaneously. A monk asked Linji whether there was still host and guest. Linji said, ‘Host and guest are perfectly clear.’” Fengxue said: “I do not yet understand its essential meaning.” Xuefeng said: “Formerly, Yantou, Qinshan, and I went to pay our respects to Linji, but halfway there we heard that he had passed away. If you wish to understand Linji’s saying about host and guest, you must go and study with one of the venerable adepts of that school.”

Fengxue then went to visit Ruiyan. Ruiyan would often call to himself: “Master!” and answer himself: “Yes!” Then he would say: “Stay alert! In days to come, do not let anyone deceive you.” Fengxue said: “To raise it yourself and explain it yourself—what is difficult about that?” Later, while spending the summer retreat with Attendant Kuo at Lumen in Xiangzhou, Kuo directed the Master to go and study with Nanyuan. Fengxue said: “Upon entering the gate, one must discern the host. Clearly, I ask the Master to distinguish him.” One day, when he met Nanyuan, the Master related the foregoing events and said: “I have come only to draw near and study with you.” Nanyuan said: “Xuefeng is an ancient Buddha.”

One day the Master went to visit Jingqing. Jingqing asked: “Where have you just come from?” The Master replied: “I have come from the east.” Jingqing asked: “Did you cross a little river?” The Master replied: “A great ship crosses the open sea; a little river cannot carry it.” Jingqing said: “The river is a mirror and the mountains a painting; even a bird cannot fly across. Do not steal lofty words.” The Master replied: “The vast immensity still fears the primal obscurity;

Liehan’s sail flies beyond the Five Lakes.” Jingqing raised his whisk and asked: “What can you do with this?” The Master asked: “What is this?” Jingqing said: “Indeed, you do not know.” The Master replied: “In coming and going, bending and stretching, I share its use with you, Master.” Jingqing said: “The dipper’s handle gives off a hollow sound; asleep and dreaming, you recklessly babble.” The Master replied: “A vast marsh contains mountains; its principle can subdue tigers.” Jingqing said: “Your offense is pardoned and your fault forgiven; you must leave quickly.” The Master replied: “To leave is to lose.”

He went out as far as the Dharma hall, then thought to himself: “The case of a great man is not yet settled; how could I consent to stop?” The Master immediately returned to the abbot’s quarters and saw Jingqing sitting there. He said: “Just now, in presenting my understanding, I may have offended your honored countenance. I humbly beg the Venerable to show compassion and forgive my errors.” Jingqing asked: “You just came from the east; did you not come from Cuiyan?” The Master replied: “Xuedou personally relies upon Baogai in the east.” Jingqing said: “Instead of searching for the lost sheep and ending your wild interpretations, you have come here again to recite a poetry anthology.” The Master replied: “When meeting a swordsman, one should present a sword;

to one who is not a poet, do not offer a poem.” Jingqing said: “Quickly cover up the poem.

Lend me the sword for a moment.” The Master replied: “Cut off the potter’s head and take the sword away.” Jingqing said: “Not only do you violate the established custom, you also expose your own error.” The Master replied: “If I did not violate the established custom, how could I discern the mind of the ancient Buddhas?” Jingqing asked: “What is called the mind of the ancient Buddhas?” The Master replied: “I may grant it again, but now you, Master, do not have it.” Jingqing said: “A Chan monk coming from the east cannot distinguish beans from wheat.” The Master replied: “I have heard only of taking without taking;

how could one obtain it by seizing it forcibly?” Jingqing said: “Great waves rise a thousand fathoms, yet the smoke over the water never leaves the water.” The Master replied: “A single phrase cuts off the currents; the myriad workings cease their deliberation.” The Master then bowed.

Jingqing tapped three times with his whisk and said: “Excellent! Sit down and drink tea.”

When the Master first arrived at Nanyuan, he entered the gate without bowing. Nanyuan said: “Upon entering the gate, one must discern the host.” The Master replied: “Indeed, I invite the Master to distinguish him.” Nanyuan slapped his left knee once, and the Master shouted. Nanyuan slapped his right knee once, and the Master shouted again.

Nanyuan raised his left hand and said: “This one comes from you, Acharya.” Then he raised his right hand and said: “What about this one?” The Master replied: “Blind!” Nanyuan immediately pointed to his staff. The Master asked: “What are you doing? I shall seize the staff and strike the Venerable with it;

do not say that I did not warn you.” Nanyuan immediately threw down the staff and said: “Today it has been snatched away by this yellow-faced fellow from Zhe.” The Master replied: “Venerable, you resemble someone who cannot carry his alms bowl yet falsely claims not to be hungry.” Nanyuan asked: “Acharya, have you been here before?” The Master replied: “What sort of words are these?” Nanyuan said: “Ask well, ask well.” The Master replied: “Still, I cannot let it pass.” Nanyuan said: “Sit down and drink tea.” Look, all of you: one of the heroic lineage naturally possesses a lofty, piercing activity.

Even Nanyuan had not yet discerned the Master.

On another day, Nanyuan merely asked in an ordinary manner: “Where did you spend this summer retreat?” The Master replied: “At Lumen, where Attendant Kuo and I spent the summer together.” Nanyuan said: “So you have come after personally seeing an adept.” He asked again: “What did he tell you?” The Master replied: “From beginning to end, he taught me only to be the host in every situation.” Nanyuan immediately struck him and drove him out of the abbot’s quarters, saying: “What use is a fellow of the defeated ranks like this?” From then on, the Master accepted a position in Nanyuan’s assembly as garden supervisor.

One day Nanyuan entered the garden and asked: “How is the single staff-blow of the South to be discussed?” The Master replied: “A most extraordinary discussion.” Then he asked: “How does the Venerable discuss it here?” Nanyuan raised his staff and said: “Beneath the staff is the patient acceptance of the unborn; when confronting circumstances, one does not defer even to the teacher.” At that moment, the Master suddenly attained great awakening.

At that time, during the turmoil and disorder of the Five Dynasties, the Governor of Yongzhou invited the Master to spend the summer retreat in Yongzhou. This was precisely when the Linji school was flourishing greatly. Whenever the Master gave instruction through questions and answers, the phrases he uttered were skillful and beautiful, like scattered flowers and brocade, every word having its point of application.

One day, the Governor invited the Master to ascend the hall. The Master addressed the assembly: “The ancestral mind-seal is like the mechanism of an iron ox: when it moves, it immediately stamps and halts; when it halts, it immediately stamps and shatters. But when it neither moves nor halts, is it right to stamp, or is it right not to stamp?” Why is it not like the mechanism of a stone man or wooden horse, but rather like the mechanism of an iron ox?

There is no place for you to act upon it. The moment you move, it stamps and halts you; the moment you halt, it stamps and shatters you, reducing you to a hundred fragments. But when you neither move nor halt, is it right to stamp, or is it right not to stamp?

Seeing the Master teach in this way, one may truly call it a baited hook. At that time, beneath the seat was Elder Lupa, himself a venerable adept of the Linji school. He boldly stepped forward to engage the Master in dialogue, turning the Master’s critical phrase around and posing a most extraordinary question.

He asked: “I have the mechanism of an iron ox; I ask the Master not to set his hand upon the seal.” Little did he know that Fengxue was an adept. Fengxue immediately replied: “Accustomed to angling for leviathans that still the great river, I lament instead a frog leaping in the muddy sand.” Here there is resonance within the words. Yunmen said: “Casting a line into the four seas, one angles only for a great dragon; the profound mechanism beyond convention seeks a kindred knower.” In the great river, a huge ox was used as bait on the hook, yet only a single frog was caught.

These words are neither abstrusely mysterious nor subject to rational examination. An ancient said: “If viewed in terms of the matter itself, it is easy; but if examined beneath the root of conceptual thought, there is no connection whatsoever.” Lupa stopped and fell into deliberation. What was before him he failed to seize; such a moment is hard to encounter in a thousand years.

What a pity! Therefore it is said: “Even if one can expound a thousand sutras and treatises, when once confronted by the living moment, it is difficult to utter a word.” In truth, Lupa wished to choose fine words with which to answer the Master and did not wish to carry out the command. The Master, however, single-mindedly employed his sharp mechanism, snatching away the banners and seizing the drums, while pressing the opposing general into flight, leaving him utterly unable to act.

A proverb says: “After losing the battle, one cannot forbid the broom from sweeping.” At the outset, he wished to find a spear technique with which to oppose the other. By the time he found it, his head had already fallen to the ground. The Governor had also long studied under Fengxue, and therefore understood, saying: “The Buddha-Dharma and the sovereign’s law are of one kind.” The Master asked: “What do you see?” The Governor replied: “If what ought to be cut off is not cut off, one instead invites disorder.” Fengxue was entirely a mass of spiritual vitality, exactly like a round gourd upon the water: push it and it turns; touch it and it moves.

He skillfully taught the Dharma in accord with circumstances. If one does not accord with circumstances, one’s words become false speech. The Master then descended from the seat.

The Linji school has the four propositions of host and guest, which students must examine thoroughly. When host and guest meet, there is an exchange concerning host and guest: one may respond to things by manifesting forms, functioning with the whole essence; one may grasp the authority of the moment through laughter or anger; one may reveal half the body; one may ride a lion; or one may ride the king of elephants. Suppose a genuine student comes and immediately shouts, first presenting a basin of glue.

The spiritual teacher does not recognize it as an objective scene and immediately fashions forms and consciousness upon that scene. The student shouts again, but the spiritual teacher refuses to let go. This is an illness that has entered the vital organs and cannot be cured; it is called Guest Examining Host.

Or the spiritual teacher presents nothing, but, in accordance with whatever the student asks, immediately takes it away. Though the student is dispossessed unto death, he still will not let go. This is Host Examining Guest.

Or the student manifests a pure scene and presents it before the spiritual teacher. The spiritual teacher recognizes it as a scene, seizes it, and throws it into a pit. The student says: “What an excellent spiritual teacher!” The spiritual teacher replies: “Fool!

You do not know good from bad.” The student bows. This is Host Examining Host. Or a student comes before the spiritual teacher wearing a cangue and bearing fetters.

The spiritual teacher adds yet another layer of cangue and fetters for him. The student is delighted, while neither one knows what has happened. This is Guest Examining Guest.

Great Worthies! This mountain monk has presented these matters to distinguish demons, discern strange states, and recognize the deviant and the correct. Thus, a monk asked Ciming: “When a single shout distinguishes host and guest, and illumination and function are carried out simultaneously, what is it like?” Ciming immediately shouted. Again, Chan Master Hongjue of Yunju instructed the assembly: “It is like a lion seizing an elephant: it uses its full strength. When seizing a rabbit, it also uses its full strength.” A monk came forward and asked: “I do not yet know—what is this full strength?”

Jue replied: “Strength that does not deceive.” See how Xuedou versifies it:

VERSE: Cầm đắc Lô Pha khoa thiết ngưu

Tam huyền khoa giáp vị khinh thù

Sở vương thành bạn triều tông thủy

Hát hạ tằng linh khước đảo lưu.

TRANSLATION: Caught, Lupa boasts of his iron ox;

The armaments of the Three Mysteries are still unused.

Beside the King of Chu’s city, the waters flow eastward;

A single shout once made the current reverse its course.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou knew that Fengxue possessed this manner of the school, and so he versified: “Caught, Lupa boasts of his iron ox; the armaments of the Three Mysteries are still unused.” The Linji school has the Three Mysteries and Three Essentials. In every phrase, the Three Mysteries must be complete; within every Mystery, the Three Essentials must be complete. A monk asked Linji: “What is the first phrase?” Linji replied: “When the seal of the Three Essentials opens, the vermilion mark is narrow; before deliberation is permitted, host and guest are distinguished.” The monk asked: “What is the second phrase?” Linji replied: “How could subtle discernment permit Wuzhuo’s questioning?

How could converging foam betray the mechanism that cuts off the current?” The monk asked: “What is the third phrase?” Linji replied: “Only watch the puppets performing upon the stage; every pulling of the strings is done by the person hidden within.” Within a single phrase, Fengxue fully possessed the armaments of the Three Mysteries. With the seven accoutrements always at hand, he did not lightly respond to others. If it were not so, how could he have handled Lupa?

In the latter part, Xuedou wished to bring forth the sharp mechanism of the Linji school. Do not speak merely of Lupa: even if, beside the King of Chu’s city, waves surged with a thunderous roar and the waters rose to inundate the heavens, all flowing eastward, a single shout would be enough to make them flow backward.

CASE 39: YUNMEN’S FLOWERING HEDGE

INTRODUCTION: Enjoying its use along the way, one is like a tiger relying upon the mountains; circulating through the conventional world, one is like a monkey in a garden. If you wish to know the meaning of Buddha-nature, you must contemplate the conditions of time and circumstance. If you wish to refine pure gold, you must have the furnace of an adept. Tell me: when the great function manifests before you, by what will you test it?

PUBLIC CASE: A monk asked Yunmen: “What is the pure Dharma-body?” Yunmen replied: “A flowering hedge.” The monk asked: “What if one proceeds when it is like this?” Yunmen replied: “A golden-haired lion.”

COMMENTARY: Do you know the point from which the monk spoke and the point from which Yunmen answered? If you understand, the two mouths together have not a single tongue. If you do not know, you cannot avoid confusion. A monk once asked Xuansha, “What is the pure Dharma-body?” Xuansha replied, “Pus dripping, drop by drop.” Let those who possess the Diamond Eye try to discern this!

Yunmen was unlike others. At times he would seize you and set you upon a sheer cliff ten thousand feet high, leaving you no room for thought or deliberation; at other times, for your sake, he would open a path on which you could share in death and share in life. Yunmen’s three-inch tongue was exceedingly profound and subtle. Some say this was an answer by way of indicating color. If you understand it that way, then say: where did Yunmen fall into error? This is a matter within the inner chamber; do not calculate and speculate outwardly.

Therefore Baizhang said, “The myriad phenomena and all words and expressions turn back toward oneself, causing one to roll freely and smoothly toward the living, dynamic point.” He also said, “If you deliberate, speculate, and seek through thought, you immediately fall into the secondary statement.” Yongjia said:

“Once the Dharma-body is awakened to, not a single thing exists;
The original source, the self-nature, is the innately true Buddha.”

Yunmen was testing this monk. The monk, too, was someone from within the Master’s chamber, one who had investigated for a long time and understood the matter within the Master’s chamber. Thus he offered the words, “What about when one proceeds in such a way?” Yunmen said, “A golden-haired lion.” Now say: did he approve of him or not? Was he praising him or disparaging him?

Yantou said, “When discussing combat, each person stands at the point of transformation.” He also said, “He investigates the living phrase, not the dead phrase. If one penetrates the living phrase, one will never forget it throughout endless kalpas; if one penetrates the dead phrase, one has not yet finished saving oneself.”

Another monk asked Yunmen, “Is the Buddhadharma like the moon in the water?” Yunmen replied, “In the clear waves, there is no road through.” The monk said, “From where did the Master attain this?” Yunmen replied, “If you ask again, where could it have come from?” The monk said, “What is it like precisely when proceeding in such a way?” Yunmen replied, “The road through the mountain passes is range upon range.”

You must know that this matter does not lie in words and phrases. It is like sparks struck from stone, like a flash of lightning. Whether you grasp it or fail to grasp it, you still cannot avoid losing your body and forfeiting your life. Xuedou was one who dwelt within this realm, and immediately composed the verse:

VERSE: Hoa thược lan

Mạc man han

Tinh tại xứng hề bất tại bàn

Tiện nhậm ma, thái vô đoan

Kim mao sư tử đại gia khan.

TRANSLATION: A peony flower—

Do not be bewildered.

The star is on the steelyard arm, not in the weighing pan.

Just like this, without the slightest clue—

A golden-haired lion for everyone to behold.

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Xuedou understood in the same way. Striking a single tune, he made the strings resound and brought forth wondrous melodies, rendering judgment in every line. This verse is no different from an ancient capping phrase.

“A peony flower”—then he immediately says, “Do not be bewildered.” Many people say that Yunmen answered by way of indicating color; they all give rise to conceptual interpretations in trying to understand Yunmen. Therefore Xuedou had the responsibility of distinguishing the matter and said, “Do not be bewildered.” This is because Yunmen’s meaning did not lie in the peony flower. Thus Xuedou said, “The star is on the steelyard arm, not in the weighing pan.” This line is perfectly clear: originally there is no moon in the water; the moon is in the blue sky.

Likewise, the star of the steelyard is on the steelyard arm, not in the weighing pan. Now say: what is the steelyard? If you can discern it clearly, you will not disappoint Xuedou.

Arriving here, the ancients were truly compassionate and spoke to you with perfect clarity: “It is not here; it is over there.” Now say: where is “over there”? The verse is already complete in its very first line. The latter part of the verse concerns the monk’s saying, “What about when one proceeds in such a way?” Xuedou says that this monk was “without the slightest clue.” Now say: did he accord at the illuminated end or at the darkened end? Did he understand and therefore speak this way, or did he fail to understand and therefore speak this way? “A golden-haired lion for everyone to behold”—do you see the golden-haired lion? Blind!

CASE 40: LU XUAN—HEAVEN AND EARTH SHARE THE SAME ROOT

POINTER: Cease! Be done with it all! The iron tree blossoms. Is there such a thing? Is there such a thing? Even the clever and intelligent are defeated. Even if one moves freely in every direction, one still cannot escape his nostrils. Now say: where does the mistaken sound lie? Let us examine this.

PUBLIC CASE: The high official Lu Xuan was conversing with Nanquan. Lu asked, “Dharma Master Zhao said, ‘Heaven and earth share the same root with me; the myriad things are one body with me.’ Is this not extraordinary?” Nanquan pointed to a flower in front of the courtyard, called to the official, and said, “People of the present day see this flower as though in a dream.”

EXPLANATION: The Grand Master Lu Huan had long studied with Nanquan and ordinarily kept his attention upon the principle of the nature, investigating the Treatises of Sengzhao. One day, while sitting in discussion, he brought forward two sentences that he regarded as extraordinary and asked, “Dharma Master Sengzhao said, ‘Heaven and earth share the same root with me; the myriad things and I are of one body.’ Is this not truly extraordinary?”

Dharma Master Sengzhao was an eminent monk of the Jin dynasty. Together with Daosheng, Sengrui, and Daorong, he studied under Kumarajiva; they were known as the Four Sages. In his youth, Dharma Master Sengzhao delighted in reading Laozi and Zhuangzi. Later, through writing about the Vimalakirti Sutra, he experienced an awakening and came to understand that Laozi and Zhuangzi had still not reached complete perfection. Drawing together the meaning of the sutras, the Master composed four treatises: the Treatise on Prajna’s Non-Knowing, the Treatise on the Emptiness of the Unreal, the Treatise on the Non-Movement of Things, and the Treatise on the Namelessness of Nirvana.

The purport of Laozi and Zhuangzi is that heaven and earth have a vast form, and my own form is likewise, all being born together from emptiness. Master Zhuang’s essential intent was merely to discuss the equality of all things. Master Sengzhao’s essential intent was to discuss how the nature of all things returns to oneself. As the treatise says: “The consummate person is open and empty, without form or image, yet the myriad things are all created through me. To gather the myriad things into oneself belongs only to the sage. Although there are spirits and humans, worthies and sages, each differing according to its kind, they all share one nature and one body.”

An ancient said: “The whole of heaven, earth, and the great land is nothing but one’s own self. When it is cold, heaven and earth everywhere are cold; when it is hot, heaven and earth everywhere are hot. When there is being, heaven and earth everywhere have being; when there is nonbeing, heaven and earth everywhere have nonbeing. When it is right, heaven and earth everywhere are right; when it is wrong, heaven and earth everywhere are wrong.”

Fayan said: “I, I, I; me, me, me. North, south, east, and west are all good, good. Whether good or not good, only I—all is good.” Therefore it is said: “Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am the most honored.”

When Shitou read the Treatises of Sengzhao and reached the passage “gathering the myriad things into oneself,” he suddenly attained great awakening. Later, he composed the Cantong Qi, the Harmony of Difference and Equality, whose meaning does not go beyond this.

Looking at Lu Huan’s question, tell me: What is this same root? What is this one body? When one reaches this point, it is indeed extraordinary. How could this be the same as ordinary people, who know neither the height of heaven nor the depth of earth? How could there be any such thing? The Grand Master Lu Huan’s question was indeed most extraordinary, yet it still did not escape the meaning of scripture. If the meaning of scripture were ultimate, why did the World-Honored One hold up a flower? Why did the Patriarch come from the West?

Nanquan’s reply employed the nostrils of a Chan monk. He struck directly at Lu Huan’s painful spot in order to demolish his den. Pointing to a flowering plant before the courtyard, he called to the Grand Master and said, “People of the present see this one flowering plant exactly as in a dream.” It was like leading someone to the edge of a precipice ten thousand fathoms high and giving him a shove, causing him to fall to his death. If you push someone over on level ground, even when Buddha Maitreya appears in the world, you will still not have killed him. It is exactly like someone in a dream who wishes to awaken but cannot; when another person calls to him, he immediately wakes up.

Had Nanquan’s eye not been true, he would certainly have been smeared and painted over by Lu Huan. Observe how the Master spoke this saying: it is truly difficult to understand. For one whose eye is steady, alert, and alive, hearing it is like receiving the supreme flavor of ghee. For a dead fellow, hearing it turns it into poison.

An ancient said: “If you see it in terms of phenomena, you fall into the commonplace. If you attempt to calculate and seek it through the faculty of conceptual thought, you will not attain it.” Yantou said: “This is the livelihood of the transcendent person; it is revealed before your eyes only for an instant, like a flash of lightning.” Such was Nanquan’s essential intent. He had the means to seize rhinoceroses and tigers and to determine dragons from snakes. Upon reaching this point, you must realize it for yourself.

Have you not heard it said: “The single road of transcendence is not transmitted by the thousand sages; students exhaust themselves like monkeys grasping at reflections”? See how Xuedou brings it forth in verse:

VERSE: Seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing are not each the same;

Mountains and rivers are not viewed within a mirror.

In the frosty sky the moon sets as night reaches its midpoint;

Who joins the clear pool in reflecting the cold image?

TRANSLATION: Understanding, knowing, seeing, and hearing are not one;

How could mountains and rivers be viewed within a mirror?

In the frosty sky the moon sets as night reaches its midpoint;

Who, together with the clear pool, reflects the image?

COMMENTARY ON THE VERSE: Nanquan spoke little in his sleep; Xuedou spoke much in his sleep. Although he created a dream, he nevertheless created a beautiful dream. The preceding passage spoke of one body; here it says they are not the same.

“Seeing, hearing, sensing, and knowing are not each the same; mountains and rivers are not viewed within a mirror.” If you say that only by viewing them in a mirror can you afterwards understand them clearly, then you have not departed from the mirror. As for mountains, rivers, the great earth, grasses, trees, and dense forests, do not take up a mirror to reflect them. If you use a mirror to reflect them, they immediately become divided into two.

Simply let mountains be mountains and waters be waters. Each dharma abides in its original position, and the characteristics of the world constantly abide.

“Mountains and rivers are not viewed within a mirror.” Tell me, where are they viewed? Do you understand? Upon reaching this point, turn toward “In the frosty sky the moon sets as night reaches its midpoint.” On this side, he has clarified it for you; on the other side, you must cross over by yourself. Do you know that Xuedou brought forth the fundamental matter for people? “Who joins the clear pool in reflecting the cold image?” Is one reflecting alone, or reflecting together with another? Only when conceptual activity and intellectual understanding are utterly cut off can one reach this realm. Right now, there is no need for a clear pool, nor need you wait for a frosty sky, a setting moon, or midnight. What will you do at this very moment?