佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄 1.4

1.4

The Biyan ji was composed by the Great Master Yuanwu. His senior disciple, Chan Master Dahui, then burned and discarded the book. The myriad conditioned phenomena of the mundane world all shun clinging; among what the disciples of the Śākya clan take refuge in and revere, nothing surpasses the Buddha, yet at times they still scold him. This is because there is the self and no other; it proceeds from oneself and does not depend on others. To abandon oneself and follow external objects inevitably leads to losing oneself. Now, the mind and the Way are one; the Way and the myriad phenomena are one; filling the great void, where could one go that is not the Way? Ordinary people observing it merely see what can be seen and do not see what cannot be seen. When seeking it from others and having others speak of it, it is like Dongpo's parable of the sun: deducing back and forth, the farther one goes, the more one loses it. Even when our Master Confucius embodied the Way, he still wished to be without words; how much more so for the Buddha's world-transcending Dharma—can it be sought through written words and speech? Nevertheless, there is also that which cannot be discarded. The wise are few and the foolish are many; those who have learned are few, and those who have not yet learned are many. The more than five thousand fascicles of the Tripiṭaka were all set forth for future generations. If one could truly forget words, old Śākyamuni should have kept his mouth shut; why would he go so far as to chatter endlessly? The principles under heaven indeed reside in the midst of the ordinary while transcending the surface of the ordinary. Though seemingly easy to understand, they are in truth not easy to understand; if one does not seek them from others, one will never attain them throughout one's life. The renowned men of antiquity were either the elites among thousands or the heroes among tens of thousands. The sword Tai'e was the sharpest blade under heaven; ascending a mountain it slew tigers and leopards, and entering the water it cut through flood dragons. That is all people know of it. Yet the ancients had those skilled in using it: mounting the city walls to do battle, they brandished it along with the wind; the three armies suffered a crushing defeat, and blood flowed red for a thousand li. How could one doubt this entirely on the basis of what an individual alone can do? Ever since I heard of this book, I sought it with utmost diligence. Mr. Zhang of Yuzhong recently recut the woodblocks and came to consult with me; I then praised and brought it to fruition, and also wrote this title inscription at its head. Written by the retired scholar Xiuxiu of Yucen, Zhou Chi of Liaocheng, at the Guanshiqiao residence in Qiantang, on an auspicious day in the third month of the yisi year, the ninth year of the Dade era [1305].