大明高僧傳 7.37

7.37

Shi Youquan was styled Yi'an. He was a son of the Qi family of Changhua in Lin'an. He left home in his childhood and received ordination at fourteen. Devoted and diligent, he extensively investigated all texts. At eighteen, knowing that there is a transcendental matter, he exhausted his strength seeking it. He first paid respects to Fozhi Yu at Lingyin. At that time, Venerable Wu'an served as the head seat. Quan entered the room to seek instruction. Wu'an questioned him with: "From the root of non-abiding, all phenomena are established." After a long time, Quan had an insight and replied: "Threading a needle in the dark, breath issuing from the ears." Wu'an approved him and secretly conferred the mind-seal. Having attained something, his vigor became ever firmer. One evening, sitting erect and entering deep into dhyāna until dawn, even when the gruel was served, he forgot to spread his bowl. A neighboring monk touched him with his hand, and he was suddenly greatly enlightened. He gave a verse: / "A pitch-black Kunlun holding a fishing rod; / An ancient sail hung high, shooting down rapid torrents. / Toying with the bright moon amidst the reed flowers' shade, / Leading a blind turtle up onto the fishing boat." / Fozhi praised him deeply. One day, he asked Quan, "When the mind encompasses the great void and its measure widens to the sands of the worlds, what then?" He replied, "The great sea does not harbor a corpse." Fozhi patted his seat and said, "This fellow will one day occupy this seat, scolding buddhas and cursing patriarchs!" Thereupon Quan deeply hid his light, lodging in the regions of Hu, Xiang, Jiang, and Zhe for ten years. Thereafter, he either relied on Ying'an or saw Dahui; wherever there were clear-eyed senior masters of virtue, he went in person to pay respects. When Wu'an came forth to serve as abbot of Daochang, he summoned Quan to share the seat and preach the Dharma. From then on, his fame spread in all directions. Before long, there came the appointment to Huazang. Opening the hall, he said: "Chan, Chan! Neither partisan nor biased. When deluded, separated by a thousand miles; awakening is right beside the skin of your lips. Therefore, a monk asked Shishuang, 'What is Chan?' Shuang said, 'A broken roof tile.' A monk asked Muzhou, 'What is Chan?' Zhou said, 'Fierce fire boiling fierce oil.' A monk asked Shoushan, 'What is Chan?' Shan said, 'A monkey climbing a tree, its tail swaying.'" The master said: "The Way has no side paths; the place where one stands is solitary and precarious. Yet these three great elders acted upon the living road before sound, and employed the spiritual dynamic beyond kalpas. If examined with a monk's correct eye, there are indeed differences in superiority. One is like Zhang Liang entering battle; one is like Xiang Yu wielding troops; one is like Kongming calculating the enemy. If one can distinguish them, one may stand eyebrow-to-eyebrow with the buddhas and patriarchs. Although this is so, if suddenly someone should come out and say, 'The elder's words are cut into two halves! Just now you said the Way has no side paths, is neither partisan nor biased; but now you divide so many superiorities and inferiorities. How do you respond?' Do you understand? Joining hands to climb the mountain, we exert our strength together; the breath that issues from the throat, one knows for oneself." In the autumn of the gengzi year of the Chunxi era, manifesting a slight illness, he wrote a verse and passed away. Upon jhāpita, his teeth and tongue did not decay. Five-colored śarīras were countless, and a stūpa was built for them.