宏智禪師廣錄 1.197

1.197

At an informal gathering he said: Good brothers! A continuous stretch of pure emptiness is the patch-robed monk's house; throughout the ten directions and three times, this is his livelihood. Light illuminates the night from the skull's eyes; spring is contained in the withered tree's flowers. Morning light lingers, clouds drift gently; the sky appears faint, the moon slants low. The whole body is Mudrā arms; encountering the scene today, he scatters sand. Can all of you accept this? If you are a great man of skill who inherits the family style of the ancestors and enters the threshold of the Buddhas, you will not be willing to bury your head in wild grass or tangle your feet in vines. Straightaway, lofty and open, solitary and towering, stark naked and exposed, you proceed. Have you not heard it said: "Motion, and shadows appear; awareness, and dust arises"? Arriving here, it is like passing through a land of poison—not a single drop of its water must touch you. If you hang around another's doorway, accept his instructions, enter his marketplace, and sit on his bench, what are you good for? In a jade-green pool like a mirror, a blue dragon does not lie; in a clear sky without clouds, the old hare can hardly hide. The stone maiden dances her sleeves, the wooden figure shakes his head; embroidered boots turn about, the jade hall is cold; the golden whip points back, dawn breaks at the vermilion gate. From here, flowers are added to brocade, Buddhas appear in the world, opening the gate of expedient means and revealing the true mark. Inevitably treating nothing as something, splitting two to make three, scattering dirt and sand upon the clean and pure ground, right at the portal of reward and transformation, neither adjoining nor departing. Have those of later study and initial capacity yet appreciated the person who came to convey the message for the ancient sages of old? If you wish to correspond swiftly and accomplish it early, take all the knowledge and views, study and practice, deliberations, and transmissions you have acquired so far, and sweep them all away cleanly at once. Do not bring a single thread to join or arrange, for then you will see it is not similar. Just recognize your own original head and enter that realm of transformation; naturally everywhere you will be the master and hold fast. There is no single vehicle to be driven, no myriad practices to be cultivated, no three realms to be escaped from, and no myriad phenomena to be resolved. If you say you escape the three realms, you destroy the three realms; if you say you are in the three realms, you obstruct the three realms. If you wait to resolve the myriad phenomena, the myriad phenomena will be chaotic; if you wait to transform the myriad phenomena, the myriad phenomena will disturb you. Arriving here, you must simply neither escape nor abide, neither destroy nor obstruct, neither transform nor resolve, neither be chaotic nor disturbed. Then you will see the uniquely exposed body, and you will be a completely liberated fellow. You may freely sleep within sound and form, or sit and recline within sound and form; cutting off all dualities, the constant light appears before you, opening the flower of awakening and transcending emotional conditions. Only then will you believe that fundamentally there is no cultivation and it has never been defiled. Throughout measureless kalpas it has been fundamentally complete, round and rolling, without the slightest deficiency and without the slightest surplus. Elder Zhengjue talking like this is all redundant words, just like driving wedges up and down on a holeless iron hammer. You people say: since he knows it, why does he not change? Do you understand? Meeting without drinking and returning empty-handed, even the bright moon and pure wind will laugh at you. He further cited: A monk asked Fengxue, "In the surging dust, how does one distinguish the master?" Fengxue said, "An eyeless mountaineer can read bones; meeting in the busy market, grasping hands in astonishment." The Master said: Worthy ones! Mind and mind do not collide; everywhere they meet. Just this is Mañjuśrī's family style; just this is Samantabhadra's physical mark. Without taking a step, roaming Maitreya's towers; without turning hearing inward, entering Avalokiteśvara's universal gate. Elder Zhengjue only knows that the player is confused, not caring that the onlooker smiles. I shall communicate another message! He then held up his whisk and said: The Buddhas of the three times, the successive generations of ancestral teachers, the venerable old masters across the world, and that old fellow Fengxue—the nostrils of this whole pack of Chan monks have all been pierced by Elder Zhengjue's whisk! Do you feel it yet? In the gathering there are also guests from Jiangnan; do not sing "Partridges" before people. Striking the Chan bench once with his whisk, he descended from the seat.