虛堂和尚語錄 1.138

1.138

That evening, in an informal gathering, a monk asked, "I have heard the upādhyāya say, 'Patch-robed monks do not seek the sages, nor do they value their own numinous nature.' Is this really so or not?" The Master said, "Listen to the teaching clearly." The monk said, "Just so, beneath the three rafters, what side of the matter is clarified?" The Master said, "Two stone figures whispering in each other's ears." The monk said, "If so, then Deshan and Linji fall back three thousand [leagues]." The Master said, "I fear so too." The monk said, "When humans and gods mingle and both get to see each other, what is the single phrase?" The Master said, "Everyone is here." The monk said, "Not only does the assembly behold the radiance, but the student makes a small effort and has a great encounter." The Master said, "Ghost with a thieving mind!" The monk bowed. The Master took up his staff and said, "If it were my Huqiu, straight down like an heir of generations of wealth who does not misspend a single coin, everyone would be ferocious and restrained. It is simply because the household rules were too strict that the doorway became deserted. This mountain monk had bad luck and blundered into this society, called the legitimate grandson of Songyuan, which may be said to be an unearned name. Tonight, having already unfurled it, I will not pull back; I cannot avoid picking out a tiny spark where no one looks, to let everyone know that upon the Twelve Peaks, there originally were divine fungi and immortal herbs." He planted his staff.