大慧普覺禪師語錄 21.5

21.5

This matter is like the blue sky and the bright sun, radiantly clear and pure, unchanging and unmoving, neither decreasing nor increasing. In the places where each individual responds to conditions in daily activities, it is luminous on every tip and apparent on every object. Grasping it, one cannot obtain it; abandoning it, it constantly persists. Vast and unobstructed, clearly and distinctly empty and open, like releasing a gourd on the water—one cannot tether it, nor can one entangle it. When people of the Way from ancient times attained it, turning within the ocean of birth and death, their heads popping out and submerging, their whole being enjoyed its use without lack or surplus, not seeing any appearance of birth, death, or affliction. It is like cutting sandalwood—chip by chip, every piece is it. What would you take to be birth, death, and affliction? From where do birth, death, and affliction arise? When collecting causes and concluding with results, where do they reside? Since there is no place to reside, the Buddha is an illusion, the Dharma is an illusion; the three realms, the twenty-five states of existence, the twelve sense bases, and the eighteen realms are all completely empty. Reaching such a stage, even the single word 'Buddha' has no place to reside. If even the single word 'Buddha' has no place to reside, where could True Suchness, buddha-nature, bodhi, and nirvāṇa exist? Thus Mahāsattva Fu said: 'Fearing that people will give rise to annihilationist views, provisional false names are set up. Those who study the Way should understand, but not cling solely to them.' When the ancients entered the Way through conditions, seeking the profound, seeking the wondrous, seeking the extraordinary, and looking for understanding above, they were unable to forget the finger upon seeing the moon and cut things in two with a single downward blow. As Yongjia said: 'On an empty fist and pointing finger, they generate real understanding; amid sense bases, sense objects, and dharmas, they fabricate monstrosities.' Vainly imprisoning and attaching themselves within the five aggregates, twelve sense bases, eighteen realms, and twenty-five states of existence, the Tathāgata described them as pitiable. Have you not seen that Reverend Yantou said: 'If you are simply without desire and without dependence, you are the Able Benevolent One (Śākyamuni).' All there is in total is merely this lump of flesh born of father and mother; the moment a breath does not come, it belongs to another's jurisdiction. Outside this lump of flesh, what else is there? What do you take to be extraordinary, profound, and wondrous? What do you take to be bodhi and nirvāṇa? What do you take to be True Suchness and buddha-nature? When scholar-officials wish to thoroughly investigate this matter, initially they do not base themselves on its reality; they insist on seeking knowledge and understanding in the ancient masters' gong'ans. Even if you understand and comprehend the entire canon of teachings, on the thirtieth day of the twelfth month when birth and death arrive, you will not be able to use a single bit of it. There is yet another kind: as soon as they hear a good friend speak of such a matter, they again use their mental consciousness to calculate and conjecture, saying: 'If it is like this, won't one fall into emptiness?' Five pairs out of ten among scholar-officials hold this kind of view. Miaoxi has no choice but to say to them: 'You have not yet attained emptiness; what fear is there?' It is like jumping into the water before the boat has even capsized. Seeing that they do not comprehend, not sparing karmic consequences of speech, I again tie up creepers for them, saying: 'This very one who fears falling into emptiness—can it be empty or not? If your eyes were not empty, with what would you observe forms? If your ears were not empty, with what would you hear sounds? If your nose were not empty, with what would you know fragrances and stenches? If your tongue were not empty, with what would you taste flavors? If your body were not empty, with what would you sense touch? If your intellect were not empty, with what would you differentiate the myriad dharmas? Did the Buddha not say: "There are no eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, or intellect; no forms, sounds, fragrances, tastes, touchables, or dharmas; up to the twelve sense bases, eighteen realms, twenty-five states of existence; up to voice-hearers, pratyekabuddhas, bodhisattvas, and buddhas, as well as the Dharma spoken by the buddhas, bodhi, nirvāṇa, True Suchness, and buddha-nature, along with those who preach this Dharma, those who hear this Dharma, those who make such statements, and those who receive such statements—all are entirely nonexistent." Having attained such a state, do you call it empty? Do you call it not empty? Do you call it buddha? Do you call it bodhisattva? Do you call it voice-hearer? Do you call it pratyekabuddha? Do you call it bodhi and nirvāṇa? Do you call it True Suchness and buddha-nature?' You say you are clever, sharp, and not to be deceived by others; try making a determination right here! If you can make the determination, your lodging in a grass hut is still outside the gate; if you cannot make the determination, take absolute care not to open your big mouth and speak excessive words. If a great fellow decisively wishes to thoroughly investigate this great matter of the single cause, he must thoroughly shatter his face and show fierce resolve, erect his spine, and not follow human sentiment. Stick the doubts you have harbored throughout your life right onto your forehead, at all times just as if you owed someone tens of thousands of strings of cash, pursued by collectors without anything to repay them, dreading being shamed by others. Without getting agitated, be agitated; without being rushed, be rushed; without being great, be great—only with such a matter will you have a chance at heading in the right direction. If you say, 'As for worldly writings, up to the Nine Classics, the Seventeen Histories, the various philosophers, and the hundred schools of thought, the rise and fall, order and chaos of ancient and modern times—there is nothing I do not know, nothing I do not understand; only Chan is the one thing that I also want to know and also want to understand,' yet you lack the eye to distinguish the heterodox from the orthodox, and suddenly run into a fabricated Chan monk and are bewitched by his fox-like charms, like passing passwords around in a three-family hamlet through ear-to-mouth transmission—this is called excessive-talk Chan, and is also called mouth-drum Chan. Taking the ancients' dregs, they mutually seal and authenticate each other; one sentence comes and one sentence goes, and when I finally get one more sentence, I call it having won at Chan. They are utterly unwilling to step back and keep the matter of birth and death in mind; unwilling to doubt themselves, they love doubting others. As soon as they hear of a scholar-official wishing to attend to this matter, they first give rise to boundless doubts, saying, 'He wants to be a fine official and has a fondness for sights and sounds; how could he manage such a matter?' People like this are everywhere. Not a single person truly treats it as an unsettled matter, working diligently day and night, during tea and during meals, when joyful and when angry, in pure places and in foul places, where wife and children gather, when entertaining guests, when managing official duties for the public, when arranging marriages in private family affairs—all of these are prime times for applying effort, bringing it up, and calling it to mind. Formerly, Military Commissioner Li Wenhe, amid wealth and nobility, investigated Chan and attained great, thorough awakening. When Yang Wengong investigated Chan, his body resided in the Hanlin Academy. When Zhang Wujin investigated Chan, he served as the Jiangxi Fiscal Commissioner. These three elders are examples of not destroying worldly characteristics while speaking of true reality. When did they ever need to abandon their wives and children, resign from office, chew on vegetable roots, afflict their bodies, weaken their resolve, avoid noise, and seek quiet, and only then enter the ghost caves of withered Chan to produce delusions before attaining awakening to the Way? Have you not seen what Layman Pang said: 'Just be without mind toward the myriad things yourself; / What harm is there in the myriad things constantly surrounding you? / The iron ox does not fear the lion's roar; / It is just like a wooden man seeing flowers and birds. / By its original nature the wooden man is naturally devoid of emotion; / When flowers and birds encounter humans, they too are not startled. / Mind and objects in suchness—it is only this; / Why worry that the path of bodhi will not be accomplished?' Amid worldly afflictions, if one can refrain from forgetting the matter of birth and death, although one may not immediately shatter the lacquer bucket, one nevertheless plants the deep seeds of the wisdom of prajñā. When one appears in another lifetime, it will also save mental effort, and one will not end up falling into the evil destinies—far superior to wallowing in afflictions without seeking liberation. Saying that this matter cannot be accomplished easily, they take it as a place of refuge, faith, and respect; those with views like this are beyond count. Scholar-officials studying the Way are greatly different from our sons of the home-leaving life. For those who have left home, parents do not provide delicacies, and the six relatives are already abandoned; with a single bowl and a single bottle responding to conditions in daily life, they do not have so many obstacle-causing foes to the Way, and only investigate this matter single-mindedly. For scholar-officials, wherever they open or close their eyes, there is nothing that is not an obstacle-causing ghost to the Way. If one is a person of wisdom, one simply makes effort right within them. As the *Vimalakīrti* says, 'The crowd of afflictions is the lineage of the Tathāgata.' Fearing that people might destroy worldly characteristics while seeking true reality, it also speaks a metaphor, saying: 'Just as lotus flowers do not grow on high plateaus and dry land, but grow in low, wet, muddy silt.' If within this, like the three elders Yang Wengong, Li Wenhe, and Zhang Wujin, one can break through, the strength exceeds that of our sons of the home-leaving life by twenty times. Why? We who have left home break in from the outside; scholar-officials break out from the inside. Breaking in from the outside has weak strength; breaking out from the inside has great strength. 'Great' means that what is gone against is heavy, so the pivot is powerful; 'weak' means that what is gone against is light, so the pivot has less power. Although there is strength and weakness in the power, what is gone against is the same. My friend of the Way outside the realm, Xu Dunji, is an old friend of Miaoxi from thirty years ago in Yimen. As soon as we met, we engaged with each other over this Way. Together with your younger brother Dunli, you frequently came to the late master Yuanwu to stimulate this matter, determined to have an outcome for this one move on the thirtieth day of the twelfth month when the four elements scatter, unlike others who only wish to supply material for conversation. In the early Shaoxing era when I resided at Jingshan, because of carrying my alms bowl to Wumen, I was able to meet you once again; after another twenty years, we have met again in Ezhou. For this reason, you requested instruction with this scroll. Freely following my brush, I have written up to this point, unaware of what was said before; now the scroll has come to an end. Among thousands and tens of thousands of explanations, spoken directly or spoken crookedly, it is simply because the root of Xu Dunji's doubts about birth and death has not yet been pulled up. I only bid you look at a huatou right where it has not been pulled up: A monk asked Zhaozhou, 'Does a dog have buddha-nature or not?' Zhou said, 'No (wu).' Walking, standing, sitting, or lying down, just bring it up at all times. Suddenly, popping like a sneeze, it will erupt, and only then will you know that the nostrils born of father and mother are right on your face. Strive on! Strive on!