大慧普覺禪師語錄 13.3.1

13.3.1

Great Master Dingguang requested a general discourse. A monk asked: "If a single phenomenon exists, Vairocana falls among ordinary mortals; if the ten thousand phenomena are non-existent, Samantabhadra loses his realm. Setting aside these two paths, please speak quickly, Master!"
The master said, "A shell-molted tortoise flies up to heaven."
[The monk] proceeded, "I have already received your intimate indication; a single impartial phrase benefits sentient beings."
The master said, "What is the intimate point?"
[The monk] proceeded, "Last night a pure breeze arose in the eight directions; this morning flowing water swells the brook ahead."
The master said, "I almost let you pass without questioning."
He then said: "The Buddhas originally never appeared in the world, nor do they enter parinirvāṇa; by the power of their fundamentally autonomous great vows, they manifest boundless rare dharmas. This Dharma cannot be fathomed by reflection; it is not the realm where the mind travels. Since it is not where the mind travels, it is not a rare dharma; since it is not a rare dharma, this Dharma is neither real nor illusory. Since it is neither illusory nor real, calling it existent is impermissible, calling it non-existent is impermissible, calling it both existent and non-existent is impermissible, calling it neither existent nor non-existent is impermissible, and calling it not-not-existent and not-not-non-existent is also impermissible. Do you not see what the Chan guest just asked: 'If a single phenomenon exists, Vairocana falls among ordinary mortals; if the ten thousand phenomena are non-existent, Samantabhadra loses his realm. Setting aside these two paths, please speak quickly, Master'? Yunmen answered him, saying: 'A shell-molted tortoise flies up to heaven.' How do all of you discern this? Is it existent, or is it non-existent? Is it illusory, or is it real? Try to come forward and say. If not, I shall draw in some more entanglements.
"Therefore the ancient sage said: 'Sometimes illumination precedes function; sometimes function precedes illumination; sometimes illumination and function are simultaneous; sometimes illumination and function are not simultaneous. If illumination precedes function, one blinds everyone's eyes; if function precedes illumination, one opens everyone's eyes; if illumination and function are simultaneous, it is half-blinded and half-opened; if illumination and function are not simultaneous, it is fully opened and fully blinded.' Among these four statements, one has guest but no host, one has host but no guest, one has neither guest nor host, and one is fully endowed with both guest and host. Right now in the assembly, if there were a fellow who does not accept deception from others, he would come forward and say, 'What kind of place is this, to speak of existence and non-existence, to speak of illusory and real, to speak of illumination and function, to speak of guest and host?' He would seize me by the chest, drag me down from the meditation seat, and give me a sound thrashing; one could not blame him at all. Is there such a person? If not, the ladle's handle is in Yunmen's hands: letting go or holding fast, speaking of existence or non-existence, speaking of illusory or real, speaking of illumination or function, speaking of guest or host—it all depends on this place. Now tell me: is it better to let go right now, or to hold fast?"
After a pause, he said: "Opening people's eyes, blinding people's eyes; pushing with one hand, pulling with the other. It is not the three essentials and three mysteries, nor is it the four types of evaluations. Ultimately, what is it?"
Holding up his fly-whisk, he said, "Xuefeng rolls a ball; Muzhou carries a plank."
He added: "You all say, 'I came here to practice Chan.' Let me ask you: how do you practice Chan? Since impermanence is swift and birth and death is a great matter, with one's own affair not yet clear, one seeks a master for resolution; wishing to clarify oneself and attain peace of mind is no child's play. Yet nowadays everyone says, 'I fear death, so I practice Chan.' Practicing on and on, as the days and months deepen, they tumble into a nest of entanglements, winning only a glib tongue and adding a bit of messiness to their own lot; on the contrary, it is not as good as when they had not yet joined the community, when they were free of so many affairs. This is entirely due to an initial mistake, not encountering a good person, each following the other's habits until it has come to this. In recent times the Buddhadharma is lamentable: demons are strong and the Dharma is weak. Chan monks each have a belly full of Chan, everywhere resembling children competing in picking grasses—in the year of the donkey will they ever rest?
"I often say to you all: 'When the Patriarch came from the West, he merely acted as someone who provided certification; he had no Chan or Way to transmit to others. If there were Chan or the Way to transmit, each would have transmitted it to their parents, and transmitted it to their relatives and kin.' Since there is nothing to transmit, the person himself must attain awakening on his own. If you set your mind to seek awakening, you are already wrong. How much more so with extensive knowledge and excessive understanding, indulging in wanton fabrication? Have you not seen Master Xiangyan when he was in Baizhang's assembly? He was utterly intelligent and sharp, yet for several years he could not attain Chan, solely because of extensive knowledge and excessive understanding. After Baizhang passed away, he went to Guishan. Guishan said: 'I hear that when you were with my late master Baizhang, when asked one thing you answered ten, and when asked ten you answered a hundred. This is your intelligence and sharpness, mental conceptualization and conscious discrimination—the root of birth and death. Try to say a phrase about before your parents gave birth to you.' Questioned by Guishan, Xiangyan was utterly confounded. He returned to his quarters, examined from the beginning all the texts he had read throughout his life, and sought to find a single phrase that could serve as a reply, but in his mind he could not find one. He then sighed to himself, 'A painted cake cannot satisfy hunger.' Repeatedly he went up to the abbot's quarters, begging Guishan to explain it to him. Guishan said: 'If I explained it to you, later on you would curse me. What I say belongs to me; in the end it has nothing to do with you.'
"Xiangyan had no recourse, his mind continuously vexed, and he also blamed Guishan for not explaining it to him. He then took the texts he had collected throughout his life and burned them with fire, saying: 'Enough, enough! In this life I will not study the Buddhadharma; I will simply be a long-wandering gruel-and-rice monk, avoiding toiling my mind and spirit.' From then on he let go of everything all at once: he did not reflect on Chan, nor did he reflect on the Way; he did not reflect on good, nor did he reflect on evil; he did not reflect on before his parents gave birth to him, nor did he reflect on right now. His four edges touching the ground, he let go of everything, and then took leave of Guishan.
"He went straight to Nanyang to view the traces of National Teacher Zhong, and thereupon rested and set up a hermitage. One day while weeding out grasses and trees, as he threw away a piece of tile and rubble, it suddenly struck a stalk of bamboo with a crack; unconsciously, the nostrils from before his parents gave birth to him were hit. At that moment, like the sick finding a physician, like one in darkness finding a lamp, like the poor finding a treasure, like a child finding its mother, his joy was boundless. He then bathed, burned incense, bowed from afar toward Guishan, and sighed, saying: 'The Venerable Master's great compassion exceeds that of parents. If he had explained it to me back then, how could there be today's event?' He then had a verse, saying: 'At a single strike, what was known is forgotten.' You see, for one who has attained, the words he utters are naturally distinct."