大慧普覺禪師語錄 9.3

9.3

Holding the whisk on the winter solstice, [the Master said]: "Opening the doors and windows wide, even a skillful hand cannot paint it. Who is this right in front of the veranda? Raising your eyes, you have already missed it. It is not mind, not buddha, not a thing, not Chan, not the Way; the buddhas of the three periods cannot fully speak of it, and the patriarchs of the six generations could not transmit it. To proceed just like this is merely to be a holeless iron hammer; even if you get out of the forest of thorns, you will inevitably die on flat ground. Therefore it is said: 'Words do not unfold the matter; speech does not tally with the fundamental. Those who accept words are lost; those who stagnate in phrases are deluded.' Suppose someone transcends emotional defilements and goes beyond external things, neither accepting words nor stagnating in phrases, discerning the Patriarch atop the myriad blades of grass and recognizing himself in the bustling market—just like a dragon gaining water or a tiger leaning against a mountain, beneath his heels he deserves three thousand blows in the morning and eight hundred in the evening. Why? In my king's treasury there is no such sword. If one is a wayfarer of exceptional caliber, one certainly does not act in this manner. Although that is so, if the law is enforced to the utmost, there will be no subjects left. Tonight I open a path to meet you all." Raising his fly-whisk, he said, "The way of the gentleman grows." Drawing a line with it, he said, "The way of the petty person wanes. A single drop of water freezes drop by drop; the seasonal nodes show no mercy. The nose-ropes of wildcats and white oxen are snapped; hiding in the depths of the water, they are burned by fire." He struck the meditation couch once, and further cited: "Benren instructed the assembly, saying: 'Usually I do not wish to play tricks with other people's sons and daughters before sound and after phrases. Why? Because sound is not sound, and form is not form.' A monk asked: 'What is it that sound is not sound?' Benren said: 'Can you call it form?' The monk said: 'What is it that form is not form?' Benren said: 'Can you call it sound?' The monk bowed. Benren said: 'Tell me: am I speaking for you, or answering your words? If someone can distinguish this, I grant that you have an entry.'" The Master said: "Benren used a single string of Yunju coins to swap out the eyes of everyone in the world, yet he had his nostrils pierced without moving weapons by this monk using a piece of broken-up rope. Later, Old Man Shun commented: 'Benren had already entered the weeds, and this monk fell into a deep village again. However, the song of 'Spring Snow' is hard for contemporaries to harmonize with, whereas village songs and local dances blend in with people everywhere.'" The Master said: "Old Man Shun is right enough, but he could not avoid being swept along with the stir. The elder holding the whisk does not spare his eyebrows to lay it bare for you all. Sound is not sound, form is not form; behind the horse, in front of the donkey, appearing like spirits and vanishing like ghosts. The song of 'Spring Snow' is not harmonized with; village songs and local dances are just a muddle." Striking the meditation couch with his fly-whisk, he said, "This definitely is not sound." Raising it again, he said, "This definitely is not form. But ultimately, what is it?" He gave a shout and said, "If you do not investigate the source at this time, you will have to wait until the future to ask Maitreya."