佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄 6.5

6.5

"'The last word spoken for you' — Xuedou's eulogy on this last word has an intention that descends into the weeds on your behalf. The verse is indeed a verse, but it only eulogizes a bit of its outward sheen; if you wish to see all the way through, you are not there yet. What is more, he dares to open his big mouth and say, 'A time when brightness and darkness are both twofold,' opening a path of a thread for you, while also striking you dead with a single phrase. Afterwards, he further adds notes and explanations for you. Just consider: Zhaoqing one day asked Luoshan, 'Yantou said, "So, so; not so, not so." What was his meaning?' Luoshan called out, 'Great Master!' The master answered. Luoshan said, 'Both bright and both dark.' Zhaoqing bowed in gratitude and left. Three days later he asked again, 'The other day I received your compassion, Venerable, but I still cannot see through it.' Luoshan said, 'I told you everything without reserve.' Zhaoqing said, 'The Venerable is walking holding a fire.' Luoshan said, 'If so, bring forth your doubts and ask!' Zhaoqing said, 'What does "both bright and both dark" mean?' Luoshan said, 'Born together and dying together.' Thereupon Zhaoqing bowed in gratitude and left. Later a monk asked Zhaoqing, 'What is it like when born together and dying together?' Zhaoqing said, 'Shut your dog's mouth.' The monk said, 'Great Master, take back your mouth to eat rice.' That monk then went to ask Luoshan, 'What is it like when born together but not dying together?' Luoshan said, 'Like an ox without horns.' The monk said, 'What is it like when born together and dying together?' Luoshan said, 'Like a tiger bearing horns.' The last word is precisely this principle. A monk in Luoshan's assembly used this meaning to pose a question to Zhaoqing. Zhaoqing said, 'Both know. Why? If I utter a phrase in Pūrvavideha, Aparagodānīya also knows; if I utter a phrase in the heavens, the human realm also knows. Mind and mind know each other; eye and eye reflect each other.' Being born on the same branch is still easy to see; not dying on the same branch is truly extraordinary. Even Śākya and Bodhidharma cannot grasp it. 'North, south, east, west: come back!' There is a bit of a good realm here. 'Late at night, looking together at the snow on a thousand peaks' — tell me, is this both bright and both dark, is it being born on the same branch, or is it dying on the same branch? Monks with the true eye, try to make a distinction and see!