景德傳燈錄 17.4

17.4

Chan Master Daoying of Mount Yunju in Hongzhou was a native of Yutian in Youzhou. His surname was Wang. As a young boy, he relied on a teacher to receive instructions. At twenty-five, he took full ordination at Yanshou Monastery in Fanyang. His root teacher had him study the sections and categories of the Śrāvaka [Vinaya], upon which he sighed and said, “How could a great man be fettered by disciplinary rules?” He then departed and went to Mount Cuiwei to inquire into the Way. After three years, an itinerant monk came from Yuzhang and spoke lavishly in praise of the Dharma seat of Chan Master Liangjie of Dongshan. The Master thereupon went there. Dongshan asked, “Ācārya, what is your name?” He said, “Daoying.” Dongshan said, “Speak further towards the transcendental.” The Master said, “If I speak towards the transcendental, it will not be named Daoying.” Dongshan said, “This is no different from the reply I gave when I was at Yunyan.” Later, the Master asked, “What is the intention of the ancestral master?” Dongshan said, “Ācārya, in the future when you have a bundle of thatch over your head and someone suddenly asks you, how will you reply?” He said, “Daoying is guilty of an offense.” Dongshan once said to the Master, “I hear that Upādhyāya Dasi was born in the country of Wa (Japan) to be a king; is this true or false?” He said, “If it was Dasi, he would not even become a Buddha, much less a king.” Dongshan agreed with him. One day, Dongshan asked, “Where have you come from?” The Master said, “I have come from treading the mountains.” Dongshan said, “Which mountain is fit to dwell in?” He said, “Which mountain is not fit to dwell in?” Dongshan said, “If so, then every mountain in the realm has been occupied by you, Ācārya.” He said, “Not so.” Dongshan said, “If so, then you have found an entry path.” He said, “There is no path.” Dongshan said, “If there is no path, how could you meet with this old monk?” He said, “If there were a path, I would be separated from the upādhyāya by a whole lifetime.” Dongshan said, “In the future, even a thousand or ten thousand people will not be able to hold back this fellow.” The Master followed Dongshan across a stream. Dongshan asked about the depth of the water. He said, “It does not wet.” Dongshan said, “Coarse fellow.” He said, “Please speak, Master.” Dongshan said, “It does not dry.” Dongshan said to the Master, “Formerly, Nanquan asked a monk who was lecturing on the Sūtra of Maitreya's Descent, 'When will Maitreya descend to be born?' The monk said, 'Presently he is in the heavenly palace; in the future he will descend to be born.' Nanquan said, 'In heaven there is no Maitreya; beneath the earth there is no Maitreya.'” The Master immediately brought this up and asked, “As for 'in heaven there is no Maitreya and beneath the earth there is no Maitreya', I wonder who gave him his name?” Dongshan caused his meditation seat to shake, and then said, “Ācārya Ying!” Once, while the Master was mixing soy paste, Dongshan asked, “What are you doing?” The Master said, “Mixing paste.” Dongshan said, “How much salt do you use?” He said, “I add it gradually.” Dongshan said, “What flavor does it make?” The Master said, “It is just right.” Dongshan asked, “A person of great icchantika kills his father, harms his mother, sheds the Buddha's blood, and breaks the harmony of the Saṅgha. Where is filial devotion in such various things?” The Master said, “Only then is filial devotion attained.” From then on, Dongshan acknowledged him as the leader within his chamber. At first, he stayed at Sanfeng, where his teaching was not yet widespread. Later, he opened Mount Yunju, and the four assemblies gathered like clouds. One day, he went up to the hall. He cited an ancient who said, “Hell is not yet suffering; beneath these robes, failing to clarify the great matter and losing it—that is the greatest suffering.” The Master then addressed the assembly, saying, “Since you people are walking this path, having gone nine parts out of ten is not very much more; exert a little more effort, and you will be a sthavira who has not wasted a lifetime, whose itinerant wandering has not failed the monasteries. An ancient said, 'If you wish to preserve this matter, you must stand on the highest mountain peak and walk on the deepest ocean floor.' Only then will you have a bit of strength. If your great matter is not yet accomplished, you must walk the dark and profound path.” A monk asked, “What does a śramaṇa value?” The Master said, “The place where mental cognition does not reach.” He asked, “What stages are there between the Buddhas and the patriarchs?” The Master said, “They are all stages.” He asked, “What is the meaning of [Bodhidharma's] coming from the West?” The Master said, “On the ancient road, one meets no one.” Sthavira Keguan asked, “The pointing finger has indeed been set aside; please, Master, receive me quickly.” The Master said, “What is it right now?” Guan said, “Speaking is not non-existent, but it is best not to take up words.” The Master said, “Why must you, Ācārya?” He asked, “What is the oral secret?” The Master said, “Come forward and I will tell you.” The monk stepped forward and said, “Please speak, Master.” The Master said, “I know, I know.” The Master threw down his back-scratcher and asked, “Does the assembly understand?” The assembly said, “We do not understand.” The Master said, “You cannot even understand chasing a sparrow!” A monk asked, “How can one avoid bothering the upādhyāya?” The Master said, “Call Chude here for me.” The monk then went and called him. The Master said, “Shut the door for me.” A monk asked, “Mazu produced eighty-eight kalyāṇamitras; I wonder how many the upādhyāya will produce?” The Master stretched out his hand to show him. A monk asked, “What is the conduct of a transcendental person?” The Master said, “The world is at peace.” A monk asked, “What is it like when a traveler returns home?” The Master said, “Rejoice for the time being that he has returned.” The monk said, “What should be offered to him?” The Master said, “In the morning strike three thousand blows, in the evening strike eight hundred.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “It is like a good hunting hound, which only knows how to track where there are traces. When it suddenly meets an antelope hanging by its horns, do not speak of traces—it does not even recognise its scent.” A monk asked, “What about when an antelope hangs by its horns?” The Master said, “Six times six is thirty-six.” He also said, “Do you understand?” The monk said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “Have you not heard it said: 'there are no traces'?” (A monk brought this up to Zhaozhou. Zhaozhou said, “Senior brother Yunju is still around.” The monk then asked, “What about when an antelope hangs by its horns?” Zhaozhou said, “Six times six is thirty-six.”) While the monks were in evening instruction, the attendant brought a lamp. Seeing a shadow on the wall, a monk immediately asked, “What is it like when two are similar?” The Master said, “One is a shadow.” A monk asked, “What is it like when a student intends to return to his home village?” The Master said, “It is just this.” A monk from Silla asked, “Buddh关注pāla saw Mañjuśrī; why did he return back?” The Master said, “Just because he did not bring it, he therefore returned back.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “People who study the Buddha Dharma must be like cutting through nails and cleaving iron before they can succeed.” At that time, a monk came forward and said, “I invite the upādhyāya to nail and cleave iron.” The Master said, “What is that in your mouth?” A monk asked, “It is said in the teachings: 'If this person, because of evil karma from past lives, ought to fall into the evil destinies, but by being despised by people of the present life [that karma is expiated]'—what does this mean?” The Master said, “If you stir, you ought to fall into the evil destinies; if you are still, you will be despised by people.” (Chou of Chongshou replied, “If there are dharmas outside the mind, one ought to fall into the evil destinies; if one holds fast to oneself, one will be despised by people.”) A monk asked, “Who gets to eat the food of Fragrant Accumulation?” The Master said, “One must know that even for a person who gets to eat it, when it enters the mouth, it must still be pulled out.” There was a monk who was reciting a sūtra inside his room. The Master asked through the window, “Ācārya, what sūtra are you reciting?” He replied, “The Vimalakīrti Sūtra.” The Master said, “I am not asking about the Vimalakīrti Sūtra; what is the sūtra that recites?” The monk gained entry from this. A monk asked, “What about when it is solitary, towering, steep, and lofty?” The Master said, “Solitary, towering, steep, and lofty.” The monk said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “You do not even understand the front table-mountain before you.” A monk from Silla asked, “What is it that is so hard to express?” The Master said, “What is there that is hard to express?” He said, “Then please, Upādhyāya, express it.” The Master said, “Silla! Silla!” A monk asked, “Why is a person of clear sight pitch-black as lacquer?” The Master said, “Why find it strange?” Cheng Rui, the military commissioner of Jingnan, sent a general into the mountain to present offerings, and asked, “'The World-Honoured One had a secret word; Kāśyapa did not conceal it.' What is the World-Honoured One's secret word?” The Master called out, “Minister!” The man responded. The Master said, “Do you understand?” He said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “If you do not understand, it is the World-Honoured One's secret word; if you understand, it is Kāśyapa not concealing it.” A monk asked, “Why is it that as soon as one is born, one does not know of it?” The Master said, “Not born together.” He asked, “What about before being born?” The Master said, “Never ceased.” He asked, “Where is it before being born?” The Master said, “There is a place that does not gather it in.” He asked, “What kind of person undergoes cessation?” The Master said, “It is the one who cannot be extinguished.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “You monks must have grounds when you utter words and breathe out. Whenever asking about a matter, you must distinguish between good and bad, superior and inferior, fine and coarse; blabbering without restraint is of no benefit. Going everywhere from house to house searching for similar words—this is why I usually say to the brothers: do not blame it for not being similar; I fear you have too many classmates. Above all, do not bring it forward; if you bring it forward, it will not be similar. An eighty-year-old man entering the examination hall is no child's play. If a single word is awry, it will be difficult to rein in across a thousand or ten thousand miles. Right down to striking the bones and hitting the marrow, there must be grounds. Words must be like pincers and chain links continuing without interruption; only then will everything be fully present, and every single thing be fresh. Is this not a matter of the most refined and wonderful? I tell you: a person who knows of it never acts carelessly. If he intends to speak ten times, nine times he desists. Why is it so? He fears it will be of no benefit. The mind of one who has realised the substance is like a fan in the twelfth month; mold grows right out from around his mouth. It is not that you force it—it is naturally so. If you want such a matter, you must be such a person. Since you are such a person, why worry about such a matter? Studying matters on the Buddha side is a misdirection of mind. Even if one understands a thousand sūtras and ten thousand treatises, lecturing until heavenly flowers fall and rocks nod their heads, it still does not concern one's own self. How much less do the rest have any use? If you use limited mental cognition to serve an unlimited function, it is like fitting a square peg into a round hole—how great the error! Even if you gather flowers and cluster brocade, reaching every affair and exhausting all matters, you are still only called a person who has finished affairs, a person without fault; you are never called noble. You must know: in the realm of the noble, what thing can be placed? Have you not seen: 'What enters through the gate is not the family treasure'? Dragons are not made under the staff—do you understand?” In this manner, the Master unlocked the dark bolt for thirty years, and his disciples often numbered fifteen hundred. The Zhou family of Nanchang especially revered his style. In the autumn of the first year of the Tianfu reign era of the Tang dynasty, he showed a slight illness. On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, he opened the final skillful means for the great assembly, recounting the intention of his going forth into the world from beginning to end. The assembly was deeply grieved. On the third day of the first month of the following year, he sat in the lotus posture and passed away forever. Today, the memorial hall on this mountain still remains. He was imperially bestowed the posthumous title of Great Master Hongjue, and his pagoda was called Yuanji (Complete Quiescence).