如淨和尚語錄 2.53

2.53

When this old monk was young, I lay on the back of an ox playing a black-salt horn, the melody slipping into ‘Plum Blossoms Preludes.’ Suddenly it turned into sobbing, I knew not why; it was that the horn had split and the breath ceased. Heaven and earth opened into vast emptiness, and my mind was forgotten. After a long while I returned: my mind is the primordial ancestor of heaven and earth! Alas, the cliff flowers bloom, the pine winds howl, and up to the myriad phenomena doing without doing—all are the function of my mind, yet never originally used. Thereupon, riding the ox home, I still remember the resemblance. Senior monk Zuqing seeks words to practice Zen. Of Zen I certainly know nothing; thus with a brush I merely satisfy his coming intention.