虛堂和尚語錄 4.47

4.47

一句子，古佛說不到，玉轉珠回；一句子，老胡不將來，填溝塞壑。說不到、不將來，笑指文殊在五臺，便與麼去，已落諸人窠臼裏。所以古德教人參禪，先要參取涅槃堂裏禪，其間傳佛心宗、續佛慧命，且置之一邊。何故？蓋涅槃乃死生切要之地，眼光欲落未落、火風欲散未散，如刀割肉、似箭攢心，那時要得用萬一，不覺不知，被他移入驢胎馬腹裏，卒難得出。出家兒尤宜著鞭，袈裟下失人身，萬劫不復，每日不要只管理會他人閑事，爾自己分上，無量劫來，如洪波大浪未甞休息，一日十二箇時辰，阿那箇一時無走作來？一粥一飯，無走作麼？開單展鉢，無走作麼？進退揖讓，無走作麼？語言談論，無走作麼？驀然打箇困來，便乃落在陰界中，頭出頭沒。爾醒時，一段孤明歷歷底，阿誰作主？既無人作主，火風未散、陽魄未飛，早成隔生人也。大難大難，棒打石人頭，剝剝論實事。節物速化，法道䆮微，有志於此段切者，尋師擇友，如救頭然，終不為身衣口食、觀山翫水，悠悠送日。爾若真箇信得及，莫教一日被爾捱得透百千法門無量妙義畢矣，便能成就一切法、破壞一切法，出三界二十五有，通一切有無障礙，春花秋葉、雲騰鳥飛，皆吾藏中，無一事不契真如、無一法不順正理。自是明暗相凌，不能得到無依獨脫之地，乃有新學久參，致使叢林正氣日消，佛祖慧命懸絕。且如新學比丘纔入門來，先以生死大事未明為辭，放下笠子，坐得一年半載，既不善用工則無所入，便起錯用心，輥入無明窠子裏，以文言義句為日益之學。歲月既往，豪邁之氣日高、味道之心日遠。殊不知，得失在心，煎熬萬狀，要如臨際三年不出僧堂，無復得也。看他一旦奮發，驚群動眾，臨機通變，如俊鷹快鷂，搏風搏日，擬尋其影跡，了不可得。要到者箇田地，急須颺却從前學解明昧兩岐，捱教通身如熱鐵團子，與死為隣，拈一箇古人話頭，拋在面前，如生冤家，晝夜如坐芒刺，自有穿透底時節。切不得泥著坐相，坐時須要方便，裏面既無主宰，徒爾勞神。古德道：「心空境寂，只為久滯不通。」參禪須參活句，不參死句，死句下薦得，自救不了，此是新學比丘之程限也。中間久參宿，將發足超方，亦有打頭不遇惡辣手段底宗匠，坐在見地，雖甘心枯志忘形，鑽之仰之、淘之汰之，但裝重己見而已，不能脫去鶻臭布衫，一旦時緣成稔，出來為人，取與之間，應機不妙，蓋從殊勝境界中得，被人蓋覆將來，便乃辨他不出。所以性敏者多不得道、自高者多恥下問，此酌然之理。法眼會中有一僧，名之曰則監院，久依法眼，凡陞堂小參入室普說，並不趨赴。法眼一日，撞見他道：「則兄爾後生家，白日茫茫，何不問事？」者僧道：「某甲實謾和尚不得，曾見青峯和尚，得箇安樂法門，所以罷參。」法眼云：「爾從甚麼因緣中得入？」者僧道：「曾問如何是學人自己，青峯向我道：『丙丁童子來求火，我便從者裏住。』」法眼云：「好語，只恐爾錯會。」者僧不消一寸鉤三尺線，一釣便上，道：「丙丁屬火，將火覓火，將自己覓自己。」法眼大笑道：「我向爾道，爾不會青峯意。」者僧鼓起無明，起單前去。是他般若因緣成熟時節至矣，行得三兩日，忽然思量道：「法眼和尚是五百眾肉身大士，道我不是，必有長處。」回來投誠請誨，法眼道：「爾問我。」者僧便問：「如何是學人自己？」法眼厲聲道：「丙丁童子來求火。」者僧豁然大悟。山僧尋常多要問兄弟，問處一般，答亦不別，那裏是者僧悟處？其間手脚未穩者，未免躊躇。要得自在，當如則監院再見法眼一番子，以表久參之驗也。然而虛玄大道，無著真宗，不可得而苟求，有生而知之者，學而知之者，各任其器。阿那箇是生而知之者？趙州和尚是也，纔數歲隨本師詣南泉請戒，本師先與南泉和尚人事，次引沙彌禮拜，適之南泉偃息，就臥處受他作禮，南泉道：「爾是那裡受業？」趙州道：「瑞像。」南泉云：「爾還見瑞像麼？」趙州云：「某甲不見瑞像，即今見箇臥如來。」南泉物見主眼卓竪，矍然起坐乃問：「爾是有主沙彌那？」趙州云：「某甲不敢。」南泉云：「作麼生是爾主？」趙州近前叉手道：「孟春猶寒，伏惟和尚萬福。」者箇自非無量劫來熏煉成熟，安能及此？雖未極其淵奧，看他題目已自分曉，豈非生而知之者歟？稜道者，此間鹽官縣裏人，行脚到福州靈雲，遇上堂，他便出問：「如何是佛法的的大意？」靈雲道：「驢事未去，馬事到來。」如是參雪峯、玄沙、靈雲三大老，二十年不能省發。一日在雪峯會裡，因捲簾豁然契悟，乃有投機頌，玄沙謂雪峯云：「恐是意識註述，又須勘過始得。」稜道者忽在面前，雪峯云：「道者子，備頭陀未肯爾。爾若真正契悟，更須道看。」稜道者接口，再述一頌道：「萬象之中獨露身，為人自肯乃方親，昔年謬向途中覓，今日看來火裏氷。」雪峯回顧玄沙云：「者箇又喚作註述得麼？豈非學而知之者歟？」今之人用盡心機，要到他田地，終是難得。後來閩王請住長慶，為見衲子泥於萬象之中獨露身，遂用些鎖口訣道：「萬象之中獨露身，是撥萬象？不撥萬象？」會中龍象悉皆下語不得，以致法眼、修山主、悟空輩皆不契，遂遊泉南。一日欲出湖外回到漳州，城下雨淋淋地不止，遂入城邊小院避雨，拾枯薪入僧堂地爐向火，只管論三界唯心萬法唯識，以至《肇論》「天地與我同根，萬物與我一體」等語。忽有老僧入來附火，乃問：「山河大地，與上座自己，是同是別？」修山主道：「不別。」老僧竪起兩指而去。那時方知，是地藏琛禪師，未免胸中各少置疑。雨稍晴，業已成行，老僧復來相送，行到佛殿前，指花壇石云：「諸公適來道：『三界唯心。』且道，者一塊石，在心內在心外？」法眼云：「在心內。」地藏云：「行脚人，置者一塊石在心頭，多少不自在。」如是三人拗折主丈，參者老和尚，各有契悟，名滿天下。後來法眼一宗，大行於世，蓋從雪峯、玄沙氣脈中來，所謂祖父有田舍翁陰德。爾看雪峯一出嶺來，先買一把杓頭，綰一條手巾，到處行益結緣，誓不喫頭堂飯。及到德山會裏，先占作飯頭，以至三到投子、九上洞山，千辛萬苦，成就道業。後來建大伽藍，開大法施，聚一千五百眾，每云：「一千五百箇布衲子，老僧扚頭舀得來。」又如玄沙和尚，精持頭陀苦行，日間開畬種粟，引水灌蔬，夜間勤於香燈，持淨掃地。閩王不時宣入禁中，說法歸來，其苦行寒暑不易。爾看他示眾道：「直似秋潭月影，靜夜鐘聲，隨扣擊以無虧，觸波瀾而不散。」猶是生死岸頭事，豈是尋常導師說底話。又如藥山和尚，遊山到澧陽，見人家有一座山好，便要化他建道場，百姓不從，便入他牛闌裏坐禪，人家被惱之不已，乃牽牛歸屋裏，縱火燒却牛闌，他只在牛闌基坐禪。太守聞得，與之買山，建一所庵，扁之曰牛闌。後來成叢林，安廣眾，以致雲嵓、道吾、舡子、高沙彌、李翱相公輩，得以為授道之地，每云：「老僧無福，不敢與眾同食。」每日只喫兩粥，首座見他眼腦精明，必謂別置飲食。一日不赴堂，藏在方丈僻處，待藥山赴堂上，入門見銚子裡氣出，揭開乃是黃菜葉，煮麥麩少許。藥山云：「老僧年來無力陪眾，如是者十年矣，今被首座覷破，勿與外知。」乃有麥麩而飯，牛闌而禪。古人刻苦至此極矣，所以光明後世，子孫至今不絕。又如百丈大智禪師，一日不作一日不食，年高九十五歲，鉏頭刀𨥂，蓑衣箬笠，不曾離身。黃檗五峯平田，古靈、溈山、懶安，龍象滿門，不忍其作務，密而去之，百丈云：「老僧無福，坐消信施。」遂絕食而殂。又如老南住黃檗時，入室退必淚下，有問其故，乃云：「老僧是佛法中罪人，一堂兄弟，無人下得一轉語切當。法門興衰，亦可知矣。」室中每舉鐘樓上念讚、床脚下種菜，勝首座下一轉語道：「猛虎當路坐。」他便退黃檗與他住，自居積翠庵。古人為法門之切如此，為道之切如此。今之兄弟，儻能仰體上古之風，不待按牛頭喫草，孜孜焉自成叢席，四方傳頌，可不偉哉，誠不孤老拙在此炙手助熱也。己事未明者，慎勿多出新語，新語乃是自得之妙，而不能會通先聖所得所傳之妙。深恐古道淪沒，山僧凡與江湖抱道之士往來議論，多引前輩遺言往行，遞相激勵，庶昭昭然，得見古人情狀。夫子為一代儒宗，祖述而不作；若作，恐夫子無文章耶？為見周室下衰，禮樂崩壞，刪詩書、定禮樂，區區立教，以明堯舜禹湯文武周公之道，以貽後世。楊子著《太玄真經》，天下人非之，謂夫子不曾作經，以其詞近乎簡澁。門人告之，楊子曰：「世不我知，當有子雲復生矣。」自漢及今，楊子之道盛行，大抵立言只要是當，千古之下豈無識者？茲來至節在邇，久在首座寮入室，殊覺不便，恐妨山門請人次第，方丈納牌。既緣會許時，以道義故，遂舉些古人履踐處，以當末後殷勤。第衰老出語太過，望兄弟赦之幸甚。記得溈山向火次，問仰山：「終日向火，因甚全無暖氣？」仰山作向火勢，溈山云：「子只得物體，能所未在。」仰山云：「某甲只如此，和尚作麼生？」溈山亦作向火勢，仰山云：「和尚只得物體，能所未在。」溈山云：「如是如是。」盡謂溈仰傳器而受，殊不知父子之義，各自背馳。今夜忽有箇衲僧出來道：「老和尚，爾也莫要儘儘檢點古人，客簷之下，隆冬苦寒，又在孤峯絕頂，爾底暖氣，阿誰不知？」山僧只得以手掩面，收捲波瀾。何故？知我罪我。夜深久立。

One phrase: the ancient Buddhas could not utter it, though jade turns and pearls revolve. One phrase: the old barbarian did not bring it, though it fills trenches and dams valleys. Unuttered, not brought—laughingly pointing to Mañjuśrī on Mount Wutai, going on like this, one has already fallen into everyone's trap. Therefore, when the ancients taught people to investigate Chan, they first demanded that they investigate the Chan within the Nirvāṇa Hall. As for transmitting the Buddha's mind-source and continuing the Buddha's life of wisdom, put that aside for a while. Why? Because nirvāṇa is the crucial ground of life and death: when the light of the eyes is about to set but not yet set, when fire and wind are about to scatter but not yet scattered, like a knife slicing flesh, like arrows piercing the heart—if at that moment you wish to employ [what you have practiced] in the slightest, yet before you know it, you are shifted by karma into the womb of a donkey or the belly of a horse, from which it is exceedingly hard to escape. Sons who have left home should apply the whip all the more: to lose the human body beneath the kāṣāya means not recovering it for ten thousand kalpas! Daily, do not merely mind others' idle affairs. In your own lot, since measureless kalpas past, it has been like billows and great waves without a moment's rest. In the twelve two-hour periods of a single day, which single hour has been without slipping away? Eating a bowl of gruel or a bowl of rice, has there been no slipping away? Unrolling the mat and opening the bowl, has there been no slipping away? Advancing, retreating, bowing and yielding, has there been no slipping away? Speaking and conversing, has there been no slipping away? Suddenly dropping off into sleep, you fall straight into the realm of the skandhas, sinking and surfacing. When you are awake, that stretch of solitary illumination, distinct and vivid—who is its master? If there is no one acting as master, then before the fire and wind have scattered and the yang soul has flown, you have already become a person of a different lifetime. Greatly difficult, greatly difficult! A staff strikes the head of a stone man; thoroughly let us discuss real matters. The seasons quickly change, and the way of the Dharma becomes ever fainter. Those whose aspiration is pressing on this point seek teachers and choose friends as if extinguishing a fire on their own heads, never spending the days idly for clothing, food, or gazing at mountains and enjoying the waters. If you truly have total faith, let not a day pass before you penetrate through the hundreds and thousands of Dharma-gates and measureless wondrous meanings to their end; then you will be able to accomplish all dharmas and destroy all dharmas, transcend the three realms and the twenty-five states of existence, and penetrate all being and non-being without obstruction. Spring flowers and autumn leaves, clouds soaring and birds flying, are all within our treasury; there is not a single matter that does not accord with True Suchness, not a single dharma that does not conform to the correct principle. It is simply because light and dark oppress each other that one cannot reach the ground of non-reliance and solitary liberation; thus there are novice learners and long-time practitioners who cause the righteous energy of the monasteries to fade by the day, leaving the life of wisdom of the Buddhas and patriarchs hanging by a thread. Take, for instance, a newly learned monk: no sooner has he entered the gate than he excuses himself on the grounds that the great matter of life and death is not yet clarified; setting down his wicker hat, he sits for a year or six months. Failing to apply effort skillfully, he finds no entry; then he gives rise to a misguided mind, rolling into the nest of ignorance, taking verbal expressions and doctrinal phrases as daily increasing study. As the months and years pass, his arrogant spirit grows daily higher, while his aspiration for the Way grows daily more distant. Little does he know that gain and loss reside in the mind, tormenting him in ten thousand ways; to be like Linji, who did not leave the saṃgha hall for three years, can no longer be attained. Look at how [Linji] one day aroused himself, startling the crowd and shaking the assembly, meeting circumstances and adapting freely like a swift eagle or a rapid falcon fighting the wind and soaring toward the sun; if you try to seek his tracks, they are completely unattainable. To reach this ground, you must urgently cast away all previous intellectual understanding, the divergent forks of clarity and obscurity, pressing on until your whole body is like a red-hot iron ball, bordering on death itself. Pick up a word-head of the ancients and cast it before you like a living mortal enemy, sitting day and night as if on thorns, and of itself the time of breaking through will arrive. By all means, do not cling to the outward form of sitting; when sitting, there must be skillful means—if there is no master within, you merely labor your spirit in vain. An ancient said: 'Mind empty and realm tranquil is solely due to long stagnant obstruction.' In investigating Chan, one must investigate living phrases, not dead phrases. If you understand under a dead phrase, you will not even be able to save yourself: this is the course for a newly learned monk. Meanwhile, among long-time practitioners who are about to set out to transcend the mundane, there are also those who, having not met an adept with fierce and piercing methods at the very start, remain seated in their own views. Though willing to wither their aspiration and forget the body, boring into it and looking up to it, sifting and straining it, they merely pack on their own heavy views and cannot shed the foul-smelling hawk-feather robe. Once their conditions mature and they come forth to teach people, in taking and giving, their responses to circumstances lack skill; because what they attained came from extraordinary realms, when they are covered over by others, they fail to discern them. Therefore, those of sharp nature mostly fail to attain the Way, and those who hold themselves high are mostly ashamed to ask of those below them; this is an evident principle. In the assembly of Fayan there was a monk named Director Ze. Having long relied on Fayan, whenever [Fayan] ascended the hall, gave informal gatherings, had private interviews, or gave general discourses, he never attended. One day Fayan ran into him and said: 'Brother Ze, you are a junior; in the boundless daylight, why do you not inquire into the matter?' The monk said: 'I truly cannot deceive the upādhyāya. I once met Venerable Qingfeng and obtained a gate of peace and joy, so I ceased my investigation.' Fayan said: 'Through what cause and condition did you gain entry?' The monk said: 'I once asked, "What is the student's self?" Qingfeng said to me: "The boy Bingding comes seeking fire." Thereupon I settled.' Fayan said: 'Fine words, but I fear you misunderstand them.' Without needing an inch of hook or three feet of line, the monk was hooked at once, saying: 'Bingding belongs to fire; using fire to seek fire is like using oneself to seek oneself.' Fayan laughed loudly and said: 'I told you so—you do not understand Qingfeng's meaning.' The monk, stirred with anger, packed his mat and departed. It was because the time of the maturation of his prajñā conditions had arrived: after traveling for two or three days, he suddenly reflected: 'Upādhyāya Fayan is a living Mahāsattva of five hundred people; if he said I was wrong, there must be something of value.' He returned, offered his sincere devotion, and requested instruction. Fayan said: 'You ask me.' The monk then asked: 'What is the student's self?' Fayan said in a stern voice: 'The boy Bingding comes seeking fire!' The monk had a sudden great awakening. Mountain monk [I] usually like to ask the brethren: the question was the same, and the answer was no different—where was that monk's awakening? Those among you whose footing is not yet steady cannot avoid hesitating. If you wish to attain ease, you should be like Director Ze seeing Fayan a second time, as proof of long investigation. However, the empty and mysterious Great Way, the non-clinging true school, cannot be sought superficially. There are those who know it by birth, and those who know it through study, each according to their capacity. Who was one who knew it by birth? Venerable Zhaozhou was such a one. At just a few years of age, he accompanied his original master to Nanquan to request the precepts. His original master first exchanged greetings with Upādhyāya Nanquan, and then led the śrāmaṇera to pay homage. It happened that Nanquan was resting and received his bows from his bed. Nanquan said: 'Where did you receive your ordination training?' Zhaozhou said: 'At Auspicious Image [Monastery].' Nanquan said: 'Do you still see the auspicious image?' Zhaozhou said: 'I do not see the auspicious image; right now I see a reclining Tathāgata.' Seeing that the object had found its master, Nanquan's eyes opened wide; he sat up with a start and asked: 'Are you a śrāmaṇera with a master, or not?' Zhaozhou said: 'I would not presume.' Nanquan said: 'What is your master?' Zhaozhou stepped forward, folded his hands, and said: 'In early spring it is still cold; I humbly wish the upādhyāya ten thousand blessings.' If this had not been refined and matured through measureless kalpas, how could he have reached this? Though he had not yet plumbed its deepest mysteries, looking at his opening move, he was already clear. Was he not one who knew it by birth? Daozhe Leng was a man from Yanguan County here. On pilgrimage he arrived at Lingyun in Fuzhou; encountering an ascending of the hall, he came forth and asked: 'What is the exact, great meaning of the Buddha Dharma?' Lingyun said: 'Before the donkey's business has departed, the horse's business arrives.' In this way he studied with the three great elders—Xuefeng, Xuansha, and Lingyun—for twenty years without awakening. One day, while in Xuefeng's assembly, on rolling up a screen, he suddenly had an awakening, and presented an enlightenment verse. Xuansha said to Xuefeng: 'I fear this is an annotation composed by the conscious mind; we must examine him further before approving.' Daozhe Leng suddenly appeared before them. Xuefeng said: 'Daozhe, the ascetic Bei does not yet approve of you. If you have truly had an awakening, you must speak further.' Daozhe Leng immediately took up the challenge and uttered another verse: 'Alone revealing the body amidst the ten thousand forms, / Only when one approves oneself for others does it become intimate. / In former years I mistakenly sought it upon the road; / Today, seeing it, it is ice within fire.' Xuefeng looked back at Xuansha and said: 'Can this still be called an annotation? Was he not one who knew it through study?' Today's people exhaust their minds wishing to reach his ground, yet in the end it is hard to achieve. Later, the King of Min invited him to dwell at Changqing. Seeing that the patch-robed monks were attached to 'Alone revealing the body amidst the ten thousand forms,' he used a mouth-locking formula, saying: 'Alone revealing the body amidst the ten thousand forms: does it sweep away the ten thousand forms, or not sweep away the ten thousand forms?' None of the dragons and elephants in the assembly could utter a word, so that Fayan, Master Xiu, Wukong, and their fellows all failed to accord, and subsequently traveled south of Quanzhou. One day, wishing to leave Hunan and returning to Zhangzhou, torrential rain poured down outside the city wall without ceasing. They entered a small cloister by the city wall to escape the rain, gathered dry firewood, went into the earth hearth of the saṃgha hall to warm themselves by the fire, and solely discussed 'the three realms are mind-only, the ten thousand dharmas are consciousness-only,' as well as the lines from the Zhao Lun, 'Heaven and earth share the same root with me; the ten thousand things form one body with me.' Suddenly an old monk entered to share the fire, and asked: 'Are the mountains, rivers, and the great earth identical with, or different from, your Reverence's own self?' Master Xiu said: 'Not different.' The old monk held up two fingers and left. Only then did they realize he was Chan Master Dizang Chen; inevitably, each harbor a bit of doubt in their hearts. When the rain cleared slightly and they were already on their way, the old monk came again to see them off. Walking to the front of the Buddha hall, he pointed to a stone in the flower terrace and said: 'Gentlemen, you just said that the three realms are mind-only. Tell me, is this piece of stone inside the mind or outside the mind?' Fayan said: 'Inside the mind.' Dizang said: 'A traveler keeping this piece of stone in his heart—how much discomfort that must be!' Thus, the three of them snapped their staffs and studied under this old upādhyāya; each had an awakening, and their names filled the world. Later, the Fayan school flourished greatly in the world, having come from the lineage and vigor of Xuefeng and Xuansha—just as it is said that the grandfather had the hidden virtue of a rustic farmer. Look at Xuefeng: as soon as he came out from the ranges, he first bought a ladle and tied a towel to it, going everywhere serving others and making affinities, vowing never to eat the first-turn meal. When he arrived in Deshan's assembly, he was the first to take up the duty of cook; furthermore, he went three times to Touzi and nine times up Mount Dong, enduring a thousand hardships and ten thousand bitternesses to accomplish his work in the Way. Later, he established a great saṃghārāma and opened great Dharma-giving, gathering fifteen hundred people, often saying: 'These fifteen hundred patch-robed monks were scooped up by this old monk with a ladle!' Take also Venerable Xuansha, who strictly kept ascetic practices: by day he cleared wasteland, planted millet, and channeled water to irrigate vegetables; by night he was diligent with incense and lamps, keeping clean and sweeping the ground. The King of Min frequently summoned him into the palace; after returning from preaching the Dharma, his ascetic practice did not change in winter or summer. Look at his instruction to the assembly: 'Directly like the moon's reflection in an autumn pool, or the sound of a bell on a quiet night: it responds to strikes without deficiency, and touches the waves without scattering.' These are still matters on the shore of life and death—how could they be the words spoken by an ordinary guide? Take also Venerable Yaoshan: traveling the mountains, he reached Liyang and saw a fine mountain owned by a family; he wished to convert them to build a place of practice, but the people would not consent. Thereupon he entered their ox pen to sit in Chan. The family, annoyed beyond measure, led the cattle into the house and set fire to burn down the ox pen, but he simply sat in Chan upon the pen's foundation. The prefect heard of this, bought the mountain for him, and built a hermitage, inscribing the plaque 'Ox Pen.' Later it became a monastery housing a large assembly, so that Cloud Cliff [Yunyan], Daowu, Chuanzi, the Śrāmaṇera Gao, and Minister Li Ao found it a place to receive the Way. He often said: 'This old monk lacks blessing and dares not eat with the assembly.' Daily he ate only two bowls of gruel. The head monk, seeing his eyes and mind clear and bright, assumed he had other food prepared. One day [the head monk] did not go to the hall, but hid in a secluded part of the abbot's quarters, waiting for Yaoshan to go up to the hall. Entering the door, he saw steam coming from a pot; uncovering it, it was merely yellow vegetable leaves boiling with a few wheat brans. Yaoshan said: 'In recent years this old monk has lacked the strength to accompany the assembly; it has been like this for ten years. Now that the head monk has discovered it, do not let outsiders know.' Thus there was eating wheat bran and sitting in Chan in an ox pen. The ancients endured bitterness to such an extreme; therefore their radiance illumined later generations, and their spiritual descendants have continued unbroken to this day. Take also Chan Master Baizhang Dazhi: 'A day without work is a day without food.' At the advanced age of ninety-five, hoe, knife, axe, straw cape, and bamboo hat never left his body. Huangbo, Wufeng, Pingtian, Guling, Guishan, and Lan'an—dragons and elephants filled his gate; unable to bear his laboring, they secretly took away his tools. Baizhang said: 'This old monk lacks blessing, sitting and consuming the offerings of the faithful.' Thereupon he abstained from food and passed away. Take also Old Nan when he dwelt at Huangbo: whenever he retired from interviews in his room, he would inevitably weep. When someone asked the reason, he said: 'This old monk is a sinner in the Buddha Dharma: in a whole hall of brethren, there is not one person who can utter an apt turning phrase. From this, the rise and decline of the Dharma-gate can be known.' In his room he often brought up: 'Chanting praises atop the bell tower; planting vegetables beneath the bedpost.' Head Monk Sheng uttered a turning phrase: 'A fierce tiger sits blocking the road.' Thereupon he yielded Huangbo for him to dwell, while he himself resided in the Jicui Hermitage. Such was the urgency of the ancients for the Dharma-gate! Such was their urgency for the Way! If the brethren of today can look up to and embody the style of high antiquity, without waiting for the ox's head to be forced down to eat grass, diligently forming a monastic assembly on their own so that their praise spreads in all directions—would that not be magnificent? Truly, it would not disappoint this old, clumsy one warming his hands here to add to the heat! Those whose own affair is not yet clear must be cautious not to produce many novel phrases; novel phrases are merely a self-attained marvel, unable to penetrate and harmonize with the marvel attained and transmitted by the ancient sages. Deeply fearing that the ancient Way would perish, whenever mountain monk [I] conversed and debated with men of the rivers and lakes who embrace the Way, I mostly cited the departed words and past deeds of the predecessors to encourage one another, hoping clearly to let the spirit of the ancients be seen. Confucius was the Confucian master of a generation; he transmitted but did not innovate. Had he innovated, would one fear that Confucius lacked literary brilliance? Because he saw the Zhou house decline and rites and music collapse, he culled the Odes and the Documents and determined rites and music, painstakingly establishing teachings to illuminate the Way of Yao, Shun, Yu, Tang, Wen, Wu, and the Duke of Zhou, so as to bequeath it to later generations. Yangzi composed the Classic of the Great Mystery, and the world condemned him, saying Confucius had never composed a classic, because its language approached being terse and obscure. When his disciples reported this to him, Yangzi said: 'The world does not know me; there will surely be another Ziyun reborn.' From the Han until now, the Way of Yangzi has flourished greatly. In general, in establishing words, one only requires that they be appropriate; down through a thousand ages, could there be no one who understands? Now the solstice festival is near; having long conducted private interviews in the head monk's quarters feels quite inconvenient. Fearing to disrupt the monastery's order of inviting personnel, the plaque is returned to the abbot's quarters. Since our affinity has lasted this long, for the sake of the righteousness of the Way, I have cited some of the ancients' practices to serve as a final earnest offering. But in my old age and debility, my words have been excessive; I will be fortunate indeed if the brethren forgive me. I recall that while Guishan was warming himself by the fire, he asked Yangshan: 'Warming by the fire all day, why is there no warmth at all?' Yangshan made the gesture of warming by the fire. Guishan said: 'You have only attained the physical object; subject and object are not yet there.' Yangshan said: 'I am just like this; what about the upādhyāya?' Guishan also made the gesture of warming by the fire. Yangshan said: 'The upādhyāya has only attained the physical object; subject and object are not yet there.' Guishan said: 'So it is, so it is.' Everyone says that Gui and Yang transmitted [the Dharma] as water poured from vessel to vessel, but little do they know that in the principle of father and son, each turned his back on the other. If tonight a patch-robed monk suddenly came forth and said: 'Old Upādhyāya, do not constantly scrutinize the ancients! Beneath the guest eaves, in the bitter cold of midwinter, and atop a solitary peak and precipitous summit—who does not know your warmth?' Mountain monk [I] could only cover my face with my hands and pull in the billows. Why? Whether they understand me or condemn me. It is late at night; you have been standing a long time.