大慧普覺禪師語錄 12.150

12.150

Huikong scratched my itch; I once pricked his sore spot. Sore spots itch, itchy spots ache; not walking the same path with the thousand sages, how could he share use with patch-robed monks? Do not say that inside broom-bamboo there are no coin tubes, or that in an artemisia grove there are no beams and pillars. Although domestic shame must not be aired outside, it must also make the eyes of all quarters fixed and shaken. Now each has no choice: let him paint this kind of incompetent, frozen snotty-nosed fellow. Just hang it in the corner of the wall to let comers gaze up and revere it, burning incense of turuṣka, priyaṅgu, aloeswood, and sandalwood during the six periods of day and night, making an offering to the ancestors of seven generations.