景德傳燈錄 16.36

16.36

Chan Master Yuan'an of Mount Lepu in Lizhou was a native of Linyou in Fengxiang. His family name was Dan. He left home in his youth and, relying on Vinaya Master You of Huai'en Monastery in his home prefecture, was shaved, received the full precepts, and became well versed in the sūtras and treatises. He first inquired about the Way with Cuiwei and Linji. Linji often praised him before the assembly, saying, 'A single arrow under Linji’s gate—who dares face its point?' Having received this recognition, the Master considered himself already satisfied. Soon after, he went to Mount Jiashan and built a hermitage. Later, he received a letter from Jiashan, opened it, and read it; he was unknowingly struck with awe, whereupon he abandoned his hermitage. Arriving at Jiashan, he paid homage and stood upright. Jiashan said, 'A chicken roosting in a phoenix's nest is not of the same kind—get out!' The Master asked, 'Having come from afar pursuing your wind, I ask the master to receive me once.' Jiashan said, 'Before my eyes there is no ācārya; at Jiashan there is no old monk.' The Master said, 'A mistake!' Jiashan said, 'Stop, stop! Ācārya, do not be so hasty and hurried. The clouds and the moon are the same; the valleys and mountains are distinct. You may well sit on the tongues of everyone under heaven, but how will you make a tongueless person understand speech?' The Master was at a loss and had no reply. Jiashan then struck him. Because of this, the Master submitted wholeheartedly and served him for several years. (Xinghua said in his place, 'Just know how to become a Buddha; do not worry about sentient beings.')
One day, the Master asked Jiashan, 'How can one realize the place where neither Buddha nor Māra reaches?' Jiashan said, 'A candle illuminates images for a thousand miles; in a dark room, the old monk is bewildered.' He asked again, 'How is it when the morning sun has already risen and the night moon does not appear?' Jiashan said, 'The dragon holding the ocean pearl pays no heed to swimming fish.'
When Jiashan was about to show his passing away, he addressed the assembly, saying, 'Look, look—the single branch of Shitou is about to perish!' The Master replied, 'Not so.' Jiashan said, 'Why?' The Master said, 'The green mountain remains of itself.' Jiashan said, 'If it is so, then my Way will not fall to the ground.'
When Jiashan passed away, the Master arrived at Cenyang and met an old friend. Conversing about matters in Wuling, the friend asked, 'In the twinkling of an eye several years have passed—where did you flee from trouble?' The Master said, 'Right in the bustling marketplace.' The friend said, 'Why did you not go to an uninhabited place?' The Master said, 'In an uninhabited place, what trouble is there?' The friend asked, 'How do you escape in the bustling marketplace?' The Master said, 'Though in the bustling marketplace, people do not recognize me.' The friend could not fathom it. The friend asked again, 'It is said that the Western Heavens had twenty-eight patriarchs, down to this land transmitting from person to person. But what about when neither accommodates the other?' The Master said, 'Before an old rustic's gate, one does not speak of affairs of the imperial court.' The friend asked, 'What should one discuss?' The Master said, 'Unless meeting someone exceptional, one never opens one's fist.' The friend asked, 'If meeting someone who does not come from the imperial court, would you speak then?' The Master said, 'A capacity beyond measurement—it is in vain to seek direct recognition.' The monk had no reply.
Soon after, the Master went to Mount Lepu in Liyang to divine a place of retreat. Later he moved to Suxi in Langzhou. Dark companions from the four directions hurried and converged in great numbers.
The Master instructed the assembly, saying, 'Only with the final word does one reach the firm pass; it locks off the vital crossing, allowing passage to neither ordinary nor sage. If you wish to know an adept of the superior stream: he does not paste the views of patriarchs and Buddhas upon his forehead like the sacred tortoise carrying the chart, thereby bringing about the cause of his own demise.'
He also said, 'The single road pointing south—the wise know its remoteness.'
A monk asked, 'How is it when one sees it in an instant?' The Master said, 'The morning star divides the dawn's hues, but how can it rival the brilliance of the sun?'
He asked, 'How is it when coming thus is not established, and going thus is not annihilated?' The Master said, 'The firewood-selling woodcutter is prized; the brocade-robed man of the Way is slighted.'
He asked, 'A sūtra says: "Feeding hundreds of thousands of Buddhas is not as good as feeding one who has nothing to cultivate and nothing to realize." I wonder, what fault do the hundreds of thousands of Buddhas have, and what virtue does the one with nothing to cultivate and nothing to realize possess?' The Master said, 'A patch of white cloud lies across the valley mouth; how many returning birds lose their nests in the night?'
He asked, 'How is it before the sun has risen?' The Master said, 'When the waters of the vast ocean run dry, the dragon conceals itself; when clouds soar into the azure sky, the phoenix still flies.'
He asked, 'What is the original matter?' The Master said, 'A single grain in a desolate field—without weeding, the sprouts grow lush of themselves.' The monk said, 'If one never weeds at all, wouldn't it be buried away in the grass?' The Master said, 'Its flesh and bone are different from common weeds; darnel and tare can never overshadow it.'
He asked, 'What about one who does not harm living beings?' The Master said, 'With blurred vision, the mountain shadows turn; the confused wander aimlessly in vain.'
He asked, 'How is it when not discussing the past or the present?' The Master said, 'The sacred tortoise has no omen to hang; on an empty shell, one wastes labor in drilling.'
He asked, 'How is it when not hanging onto light or dark?' The Master said, 'Within the mystery it is easy to raise; beyond thought it is difficult to bring up.'
He asked, 'How is it when not born into the Tathāgata's household and not sitting on the Flower King's throne?' The Master said, 'Tell me, how much does the fire-brazier weigh?'
He asked, 'Are the patriarch's intention and the teaching's intention the same or different?' The Master said, 'In the lion's den there are no other beasts; where the elephant king treads, the fox's tracks vanish.'
He asked, 'How is it when one walks to the inconceivable place?' The Master said, 'The green mountain constantly lifts its feet; the white sun does not shift its wheel.'
He asked, 'How is the matter of standing alone in a completely withered, barren field?' The Master said, 'An egret resting against a snowy nest can still be discerned; a raven plunging into lacquer is hard to distinguish.'
He asked, 'What is the simultaneous raising of guest and host?' The Master said, 'A withered tree has no horizontal branches; when a bird comes, it is hard to set its feet.'
He asked, 'How is it when it is dim all day long?' The Master said, 'A jewel cast amidst sand—to the discerning, it is naturally distinct.' The monk said, 'If so, then extending one's hand, one does not meet the master.' The Master said, 'Do not mistake the crane's call for the oriole's warble.'
He asked, 'All people revere the three dots of the letter I. What about the house style of Lepu?' The Master said, 'A single clap of thunder, and the sound of the cloth drum dies out.'
He asked, 'How is it at high noon?' The Master said, 'At high noon it is still half deficient; only when the crow sinks does it become round.'
He asked, 'What is the meaning of the Western Ancestor's coming?' The Master said, 'Rustling before the porch, the bamboo does not feel cold through the frost.' The monk was about to ask again, but the Master said, 'You only hear the sound of the wind striking, not knowing how many thousands of stalks there are.'
The Master ascended the hall and said to the assembly, 'Sun Bin has packed up his shop; is there a diviner who will step forward?' At that time a monk came forward and said, 'I ask the upādhyāya for a divination.' The Master said, 'Your father is dead.' The monk was speechless. (Fayan clapped his hands three times in his place.)
A monk asked, 'What is the meaning of the Western Ancestor's coming?' The Master tapped his meditation bed and said, 'Do you understand?' The monk said, 'I do not.' The Master said, 'A sudden clap of thunder in the heavens startles the universe, but the frog at the bottom of the well does not raise its head.'
He asked, 'How can one discern the place where neither Buddha nor Māra reaches?' The Master said, 'Yajñadatta's head was never lost; seeking to recognize it in a mirror is an error.'
He asked, 'What is rescue and departure from birth and death?' The Master said, 'Clinging to water to prolong life for a while, one does not hear the marvelous celestial music.'
He asked, 'How do the four great elements come to exist?' The Master said, 'Clear water has no waves; foam arises from being struck by the wind.' The monk asked, 'How is it when the foam is destroyed and returns to the water?' The Master said, 'Neither turbid nor muddy, fish and dragons leap as they please.'
He asked, 'What is the matter of birth and death?' The Master said, 'A single thought forgets machinations, and the great void is without a speck.'
He asked, 'What is the Way?' The Master said, 'Retaining machinations still obstructs the traces; shedding stagnation opens the thoroughfare.'
He asked, 'What cannot be contained within the entire canon?' The Master said, 'Rain nourishes the three types of grass to bloom; a piece of jade is naturally radiant from the beginning.'
He asked, 'A single hair swallows the vast ocean whole—what more can be said about this?' The Master said, 'A household that has a picture of the White Ze will surely be free from such monsters.' (Baofu said differently: 'A household that has no picture of the White Ze also has no such monsters.')
He asked, 'How is it when one is completely still?' The Master said, 'The seasonal thunder responds to the period, shaking the mountains and awakening the hibernating insects.' The monk asked, 'How is it when a thousand kinds of activities are not different from that very stillness?' The Master said, 'The numinous crane soars beyond the sky; the dull bird does not leave its nest.' The monk said, 'How is that?' The Master said, 'A white-haired elder bowing to a youth—people throughout the world can hardly believe it.'
He asked, 'When the holy ones come thus, what should one offer to them?' The Master said, 'Though the earth star holds a monk's staff, he is not a brāhmaṇa.'
He asked, 'Are the patriarch's intention and the teaching's intention identical or distinct?' The Master said, 'The sun and moon together wheel across the sky; whose house has a separate road?' The monk said, 'If so, then manifestation and concealment take different paths, and the matter is not uniform.' The Master said, 'Just do not lose your sheep yourself; what need is there to weep at the fork in the road?'
He asked, 'How is it when a student intends to return home?' The Master said, 'The house is ruined and the family dead—where will you return, child?' The monk said, 'If so, then I shall not return.' The Master said, 'The remaining snow before the courtyard is melted by the sun's wheel; who will be dispatched to sweep the floating dust in the room?'
He asked, 'Movement is the sprout of the Dharma King; stillness is the root of the Dharma King. Leaving aside the root and sprout, what is the Dharma King?' The Master raised his whisk. The monk said, 'This is still the sprout of the Dharma King.' The Master said, 'If the dragon does not emerge from its cave, who can do anything with it?'
The Master opened the Dharma at two mountains, and his words spread to all quarters. In the eighth month, autumn of the first year of the Guanghua era of the Tang dynasty (a wuwu year), he admonished the administrators, saying, 'In the method of leaving home, no surplus possessions should be kept. At sowing time, one must strictly cut down and economize. All tasks of construction and building are to be suspended. The flowing light is swift, and the Great Way is profound and subtle. If one continues in routine, how can one experience awakening?' Though his exhortations were earnest, the assembly considered them customary and paid them little heed.
When winter came, the Master manifested a slight illness, yet did not tire of answering inquiries. On the first day of the twelfth month, he told the assembly, 'I will pass either tomorrow or the day after. Now I have a matter to ask you all: If you say this is it, that is placing a head on top of a head. If you say this is not it, that is cutting off your head to seek life.'
At that time the head monk replied, 'The green mountain does not lift its feet; under the sun, one does not light a lamp.' The Master said, 'What time and season is this here to speak such words?'
At that time Sthavira Yancong replied separately, saying, 'Apart from these two paths, I ask the upādhyāya not to inquire.' The Master said, 'Not yet—speak further.' Yancong said, 'Yancong cannot say it completely.' The Master said, 'I do not care whether you complete it or not.' Yancong said, 'Yancong has no attendant to reply to the upādhyāya.' The Master then left the hall.
When night came, he had an attendant summon Yancong into the abbot's quarters and said, 'Ācārya, your reply to this old monk today had great reason in it. According to this, you should realize the late master's meaning. The late master said: "Before the eyes there are no phenomena; the intention is before the eyes. It is not a phenomenon before the eyes; it is not reached by ears or eyes." Tell me, which phrase is the primary phrase? If you can discern it, I will transmit the bowl-bag to you.' Yancong said, 'Yancong does not understand.' The Master said, 'You should understand—just speak!' Yancong said, 'Yancong truly does not know.' The Master shouted him out and said, 'Bitter, bitter!' (Xuanjue said, 'Tell me: did Sthavira Cong truly not understand, or was he afraid of seeing the bowl-bag stick to him?')
At noon on the second day, another monk brought up the previous words and asked the Master. The Master replied in his own place, saying, 'The boat of compassion is not rowed upon clear waves; through the Sword Gorges, it is in vain to release a wooden goose.' Thereupon he announced his passing away. His age was sixty-five; his monastic age was forty-six. His stupa was erected at the northwest corner of the monastery.