大慧普覺禪師語錄 9.7

9.7

Wielding the fly-whisk, [the Master said]: "'If you wish to know the meaning of the buddha-nature, you should observe the temporal causes and conditions. When the time arrives, the principle becomes manifest of itself.' Tell me: right now, what time and season is it? Could it be that those who sit, sit, and those who stand, stand? Could it be that the spring rain is like rich oil, and the spring clouds are like cranes? Could it be that the incense smoke coils around, and the lamps and candles shine brightly? Could it be that monks and laypeople mingle together in one assembly? If it is like this, you have seen only one side. You should know that the dust-mote-like buddhas appearing in the world, descending into the royal palace, sitting in the bodhimanda, turning the wheel of the Dharma, subduing the demon armies, delivering sentient beings, and entering nirvāṇa, never go beyond this very time and season. If you can completely believe this, the boundless lands of the kṣetras, self and other are not separated by the tip of a hair; the ten times, ancient and modern, from beginning to end are never separate from the present thought. If you cannot completely believe this, I shall speak grandmotherly Chan: 'The Buddha is not far from man; realize it right in the mind'—a monkey playing with sticky glue. 'Dharma is without attachment; whatever realm is touched is Suchness'—a mangy horse tied to a withered stump. 'Not mind, not buddha, not a thing'—the whole family sent off to the ferryboat. Like this will not do; not like this will not do; both like this and not like this will not do at all—spitting out wild-fox slobber, taking Pingwei San again. If there is a fellow among them who, before taking a shit, leaps straight out, looking at it from high above, it is never enough; evening it out from down below, there is plenty to spare. He can soar high above the three realms, walk alone in the great sphere, cut off the flow of birth and death, and occupy the seat of the buddhas and patriarchs. Even if you proceed like this, you are merely lodging in a grass hut, still dwelling outside the gate. Why? Have you not seen what an ancient said: 'One who speaks words well, speaks what words cannot speak; one who leaves traces well, leaves traces where traces cannot be left.' Leaving traces where traces cannot be left is traceless; speaking what words cannot speak is wordless. Since there are neither words nor traces, the fan in Yunmen's hand leaps up to the thirty-three heavens, strikes the nostrils of Lord Śakra, gives the carp of the Eastern Sea a blow with the staff, and rain pours down in buckets. Ultimately, what principle is this?" He gave a shout and said: "The mountains cut off, one suspects it has ceased; the peaks rising high, it surges up again."
He then brought up: "Longya's verse says: 'Reaching all famous mountains was due to my feet; through years of hardship they wore socks. Now in old age I cannot walk; in my hand I hold a broken wooden ladle.' Reverend Baiyun Duan said: 'Old Man Longya could be called one for whom familiar places are hard to forget.'"
The Master said: "Reverend Duan speaking like this is very much like measuring others by himself. Senior Monk Gao would not do so: A poor household finds it hard to prepare vegetarian food; busy with affairs, there is no time for cursive script."