法演禪師語錄 1.12

1.12

Ascending the hall, a monk asked: "Not asking about the cold hue of the thousand peaks, what is the matter of the rain dripping on the cliff flowers?" The Master said: "Today is also like this." The student said: "A single phrase far surpasses the thousand sages; the thousand mountains bar and cut off the myriad passes." The Master said: "Where does a single drop fall?" The student said: "Wrong." The Master said: "Wrong." The student said: "Wrong, wrong." The Master then hit him, and said: "The emerald array of a thousand peaks, the golden weep of shore willows, the woodcutter singing, the fisherman plying the oars, reeds and mouth-organs deafening the earth, the chattering murmur of birds, the powdered beauty, the dashing young gentleman—each and every one sets forth for you people the supreme dynamic and opens the true Dharma eye. If you understand right here, the Golden Ascetic will have no place to hide his body. If you do not understand, eating your congee and eating your rice, I allow you to pierce through seven ways and perforate eight."