續傳燈錄 27.6

Chan Master Miaoxi Dahui Zonggao of Jingshan in Lin'an prefecture was born into the Xi family of Ningguo in Xuanzhou. At the age of thirteen, he had just begun his preliminary studies, yet in less than half a month he abandoned them to leave home. At seventeen, he shaved his head and received full ordination. Although young, he already knew of the matters of the ancestral lineage. He read widely through the recorded sayings of the various masters, being particularly fond of the sayings of Yunmen and Muzhou. He once doubted: 'The five houses of the lineage were originally just one Bodhidharma. From where did so many factions arise?' Yet his nature was untrammeled and unbridled, so his parents encouraged him to go on an itinerant pilgrimage. At that time in Xuanzhou, there was Chan Master Mingjiao Shaozheng, an heir of Xingjiao Tan and grandson [in the Dharma] of Langye Jue. Hearing that he was deeply cultivated, the Master served him with total devotion. He frequently asked for instruction on Xuedou's 'Praising the Ancients' and 'Verses on the Ancients', as well as the nidānas of the masters of old. Zheng instructed him only that he must see for himself and speak for himself directly on the spot, not borrowing their words in the slightest. The Master profoundly penetrated the subtle intent of the virtuous ones of old. Zheng marveled at him, often sighing and saying, 'Gao is one who has returned from a previous life.' He then traveled to Yingzhou to see Head Monk Dayang Yuan, Upādhyāya Dongshan Wei, and Attendant Jian. Wei was the head monk at Furong, and Jian had served as attendant for ten years. The Master studied with the three men for a very long time and fully attained the lineage tenets of the Caodong. One day he saw them using arm-incense transmission to show that it was not an improper entrustment. He inwardly disapproved, saying: 'If Chan has transmissions [like this], how could it be the Dharma of personal realization and self-awakening of the Buddhas and patriarchs?' He then left them and went to the assembly of Zhenru Zhe, entering the abbot's room of Jing Zangzhu, [who was also called] Xian Pengtou ('Disheveled Xian'). Together with Jing, he also went to Huanglong to see Huitang, and to Donglin to visit Zhaojue, but none of these resonated with him. He also visited Chan Master Xinyin Xun. Xun was a senior disciple of Xiu Tiemian ('Iron Face'). Talking with the Master, he considered him extraordinary and wished to keep him in his assembly, but the Master was not willing. Xun thereupon directed him to go to Baofeng to study under Chan Master Zhun. Zhun was Zhantang. When the Master first arrived, his dynamic wit was uninhibited and expansive. Zhun said, 'Why are you missing half your nose?' The Master said, 'Under the Baofeng gate.' Zhun said, 'Fabricating Chan monk!' Another time, when they were decorating [images of] the Ten Kings, Zhun pointed and asked the Master, 'What is this official's surname?' The Master said, 'His surname is Liang.' (Zhantang was surnamed Liang.) Zhun rubbed his head and said, 'What can be done about the fact that this one named Liang is missing a cap?' The Master said, 'Although the heads are not the same, the nostrils are quite similar.' Zhun said, 'Fabricating Chan monk!' Another time, while reading the Diamond Sūtra, [Zhun] asked the Master, '"This Dharma is equal, without high or low." Why is Mount Yunju high and Mount Baofeng low?' The Master said, '"This Dharma is equal, without high or low."' Zhun said, 'You can only serve as the servant of a lecture master.' Another day he said to the Master, 'Senior Monk Gao, do you understand each and every bit of my Chan?' The Master said, 'I understand it.' Zhun said, 'If told to speak, you can speak it. If told to act, you can act it. Raising the ancients, versifying the ancients, minor assemblies, and general discourses—you can manage them all. There is just one matter that is not right. Do you know it?' The Master said, 'I do not yet know what matter it is.' Zhun said, 'You are only lacking that single "aha!" Therefore, when speaking it is there, but when not speaking it is gone; when entering the abbot's quarters it is there, but when leaving the abbot's quarters it is gone; when awake and alert it is there, but when falling asleep it is gone. How could this withstand birth and death?' The Master said, 'This is precisely my point of doubt.' When Zhun fell ill, the Master asked him, 'Whom should I visit hereafter?' Zhun said, 'There is a certain Qin-ba-zi (fellow from Sichuan). I do not know him, but you may see him. He should be able to resolve your affair. If you cannot settle it there, then you may just cultivate practices and read the entire great canon of sūtras. In a future life when you emerge to practice Chan, you will definitely be a kalyāṇamitra.' After Zhantang passed away, the Master went to Prime Minister Zhang Tianjue to request a stupa inscription. Tianjue maintained high standards and rarely gave approval to patch-robed monks. Seeing the Master, they bonded at a single word. He immediately invited him to stay and spoke with him day and night. He named his hermitage 'Miaoxi' and gave him the style 'Tanrui'. Moreover, he said, 'You must see Chuanqin. I will help you go.' He then funded his journey. Qin was Yuanwu. At that time, having received an imperial summons from Jiangshan, he had just been appointed abbot of Tianning in the Eastern Capital. Before he had arrived, the Master reached the monastery first, hung his bowl, and completed his formal entrance into the hall. Only after Qin entered the monastery did the Master consult him morning and evening. Qin brought up: 'A monk asked Yunmen: "What is the place from which all Buddhas emerge?" He replied: "The Eastern Mountain walks upon the water."' He bade the Master bring down a turning word. The Master worked on it for up to a year; every one of the forty-nine turning words he brought down failed to resonate. One day, Qin went to a high official's mansion to ascend the seat. He brought up: 'A monk asked Yunmen: "What is the place from which all Buddhas emerge?" Yunmen said: "The Eastern Mountain walks upon the water." If it were Tianning, it would not be so. If someone were to ask, "What is the place from which all Buddhas emerge?" I would simply say to him: "A gentle breeze comes from the south, / And a light coolness arises in the pavilion."' Hearing this raised, the Master had a sudden, breakthrough awakening. He then reported what he had awakened to to Qin. Qin observed that although the Master had cut off before and after and active marks no longer arose, he was nevertheless sitting in an empty, bare place. He said to the Master, 'Not yet. Although you have attained something, the Great Dharma is not yet clear.' One day, entering the abbot's room, Qin said, 'It was not easy for you to reach this stage. But it is a pity that having died, you cannot come back to life. Not doubting words and phrases is a great sickness. Have you not seen it said: / Letting go your hold on the hanging cliff, / You personally take it upon yourself; / Reviving after utter extinction, / No one can deceive you. / You must know there is such a principle.' The Master said, 'I only rely on what I have attained at present, which is already joyful. I can no longer grasp anything more.' Qin did not give his approval. He therefore ordered the Master to serve as an attendant without specific duties in the Ze Mu Liao ('Lodge of Choosing the Wood'). Daily, he chatted idly with scholar-officials, entering the abbot's room no less than three or four times a day. Qin then questioned the Master by bringing up: 'Being and non-being are like wisteria leaning on a tree.' Whenever the Master was about to open his mouth, Qin would immediately say, 'No, no.' For half a year like this, he did not receive the seal of approval. It remained unceasingly in his mind. One day, dining with various official guests, the Master held his chopsticks in his hand and forgot entirely to put food in his mouth. Qin laughed and said, 'This fellow is practicing boxwood Chan, shrinking back instead.' The Master then made a simile, saying, 'The Upādhyāya's principle is just like a dog looking at a pot of hot oil: it wants to lick it but cannot lick it; it wants to abandon it but cannot abandon it.' Qin said, 'Your simile is extremely good! Just this is the vajra ring and the chestnut burr.' Another day, [the Master] asked, 'I hear that when the Upādhyāya was with Wuzu, you also asked this topic. I wonder how Wuzu answered? Please, Master, bestow instruction.' Qin remained silent and did not respond. The Master said,

"At that time, Upādhyāya, you could not have asked it alone; it had to be asked before the assembly. What harm is there in speaking of it now?" Qin then said, "I asked: 'How is it when phrases exist and phrases do not exist, like a vine clinging to a tree?' Wuzu said: 'Describe it as you will, it cannot be depicted; paint it as you will, it cannot be rendered.' I asked again: 'How is it when suddenly the tree falls and the vine withers?' Wuzu said: 'Following along together.'" Hearing this cited, the Master experienced a great awakening on the spot. He said, "I understand!" Qin said, "I only fear you still have not penetrated this gong'an." The Master said, "Please cite [further], Upādhyāya." Qin then continuously cited a string of tricky and perplexing sayings by former masters to test and interrogate him. The Master answered in response to his voice without the slightest impediment. Qin clapped his hands and praised him. He also praised him before the assembly, saying: "Gao has not been a kalyāṇamitra for merely one or two lifetimes." From then on, the Master was unrestrained and spirited, giving full vent to his discourses like pouring water from a steep roof or rolling a round boulder down a thousand-fathom cliff; the elder masters tucked in their robes and none dared confront his vanguard. Earlier, once the Master had thoroughly awakened, he nevertheless had doubts about several Chan pilgrims and asked Qin about them. Qin said: "This Chan of mine is like the great ocean: only if you bring a great ocean to pour it into will it do. If you merely bring an alms bowl, fetch a tiny bit and stop, that is simply how limited your capacity is—what can I do about it? How many can reach your state? Formerly there was only Senior Monk Jing who was like you, yet he has already died." Before long, [Qin] appointed the Master as head monk. At that time, literati and officials often vied to associate with him. He was especially esteemed by the Right Vice Director Lü Shuntu, who memorialized to grant him a purple robe and the title Master Fori. When the Jurchen disturbance arose, the barbarian chieftain wished to capture ten Chan monks; the Master was among those selected, but soon escaped—it was as if someone had aided him—and he crossed the river south. At that time, Qin had been granted the title Chan Master Yuanwu and was presiding over the Dharma seat at Yunju; he instructed the Master to occupy the first seat. He often entered the abbot's room with the various patch-robed monks, and Yuanwu would always come to listen to his words. One day, after leaving the abbot's room, the Master went up to the abbot's quarters and sat together with Yuanwu. Yuanwu said, "If there were a fellow monk like this old monk, how would you deal with him?" The Master said, "What greater fortune could there be? It is just as Dongpo said of being an executioner: 'In one's whole life to meet a fat fellow to slice!'" Yuanwu laughed loudly and said, "Instead, you have entered the abbot's room with me and pressed me against the wall!" Yuanwu often said: "Recently, the various quarters have all become nests and dens. Under Wuzu, I, along with Fojian and Foyan, formed a trio practicing Chan together. Now flaws and blunders have already appeared. Under Fojian there is a type who mimic barking dogs and cooing doves to make people laugh. Under Foyan there is a type who peer at lanterns and exposed pillars, pointing east and drawing west, just like seeing ghosts with their own eyes. Here with me, for now, there are not these two sicknesses." The Master said, "It is very good to have no sicknesses." Yuanwu said, "What do you mean?" The Master said, "Sparks struck from flint, a flash of lightning: this leads countless people to play with karmic consciousness—as soon as it is raised, they immediately 'understand' it. How is this not a great nest and den of the Buddhadharma?" Yuanwu involuntarily stuck out his tongue and said, "Never mind them, never mind them! I aim only at mutual verification; if there is no mutual verification, I resolutely will not let them pass." The Master said, "Speaking of mutual verification is fine. I only fear that later people will simply transmit it like this—as soon as it is raised, they immediately 'understand' it, stubbornly insisting on sparks struck from flint and flashes of lightning, with karmic consciousness vast and boundless, never having an end." Yuanwu deeply agreed with this. Before long, Yuanwu returned to Shu. The Master then took his leave and resided at ancient Yunmen. Students gathered like clouds. Again fleeing the turmoil, he went to Hunan, turned through Jiangyou, and entered Min. He built a hermitage at Yangyu in Changle. At that time those following him were only fifty-three people; in less than fifty days, thirteen people attained the Dharma. Before this, there had never been such an occurrence. Later, they all stood out conspicuously. He first accepted the invitation of Supervising Secretary Master Jiang Shaoming to reside at the Yunmen Hermitage at Xiaoxi. When Grand Councillor Zhang, Duke of Wei, was in Shu, Yuanwu told him that the Master had truly attained the marrow of the Dharma; upon arriving at court, he invited him to Jingshan in Lin'an. The flourishing of the Dharma assembly was foremost of the time; traveling a hundred leagues with blistered feet, they rushed to arrive, fearing only to be late. Reaching the point where there was no space to accommodate them, a great pavilion for a thousand monks was built to house them, with over two thousand followers in all. When he first opened the Dharma hall and ascended the seat, before the questions and answers were finished, several monks vied to step forward and compete in questioning. The Master stopped them, saying: "Stop, stop! Even if the plants and trees of the great earth were all ground into dust, each speck of dust had a mouth, each mouth was endowed with the mark of an unobstructed, broad and long tongue, each tongue uttered immeasurable distinct sounds, each sound produced immeasurable distinct words, and each word had immeasurable distinct wondrous meanings—if patch-robed monks as numerous as the dust specks above each possessed such mouths, such tongues, such sounds, such words, and such wondrous meanings, and simultaneously raised hundreds of thousands of difficult questions, every single question being distinct, it would not take more than a single cough from the elder of Jingshan to answer them all at once! Seizing the moment, within it he performs immeasurable and boundless, vast and great Buddhist deeds; each Buddhist deed pervades the Dharma realm. As it is said: 'A single hair manifests spiritual transformations; all Buddhas together expound the sūtras.' Through immeasurable kalpas one could not reach its limit. To go on like that bustling the monastic gates may be fine, but if viewed with the correct eye, it is precisely karmic consciousness, vast and boundless, with no foundation to rely on; within the Patriarch's gate, not a bit of it can be used! How much less hook-like phrases and thorny clauses, flaunting the edge of words: this not only buries the ancestral lineage from above, but also splits the nostrils of patch-robed monks with laughter. Therefore it is said: 'Fastening a thought for a hair's breadth is the karmic cause for the three destinies; in a flash an emotion arises, a fetter for ten thousand kalpas.' Sacred names and worldly designations are all empty sounds; distinctive marks and inferior forms are all illusory colors. If you seek them, can you be free of encumbrance? When you come to loathe them, it again becomes a great affliction. See how the ancient worthies exhorted and announced in this way, like the state using weapons only when there is no choice; in the fundamental affair there is not even this message. Today, the mountain monk raising and chanting like this is very much like speaking of a dream when there is no dream, or gouging into healthy flesh to make a wound. Examining it, I ought to take a blow of the staff. Right now, is there anyone who can strike with a poisonous hand? If there is, he is worthy of repaying the kindness that cannot be repaid, and together aiding the transformation of non-action. If not, I shall reverse the implementation of this order." Suddenly holding up his staff, he said, "Holding the Moye blade crosswise, fully execute the correct order!"

"In a universe at peace, beheading the foolish and stubborn!"
He struck once with his staff, gave a shout, and instructed the assembly, saying:
"When inverted thoughts arise, birth and death continue.
When inverted thoughts are extinguished, birth and death cease.
Where birth and death cease, nirvāṇa is void.
Where nirvāṇa is void, it is dust in the eye.
Since nirvāṇa is already void, what do you call dust in the eye?
White clouds may well come over the green peaks,
Yet the bright moon is hard to make descend from the azure sky."
He also said: "Magadha is still halfway along the road; before Shaoshi peak there is no graspable handle at all. Talking of the mysterious and speaking of the wondrous is gouging a wound in healthy flesh. Citing the ancients to illuminate the present is throwing sand and scattering dirt. How could that compare to eating when hungry, drinking when thirsty, sitting at leisure, and sleeping when tired? Letting the four seasons move along, none of it concerns my affair. Although it is like this, one must actually reach this stage before it works. But for one who has actually reached this stage, how can one approach him?"
He gave a shout and said, "Placing another moxa cone right upon the cauterized scar!"
He also said: "In my lineage there are no words or phrases, and truly not a single dharma to give to people. Already one's whole body is soaked in a cesspool. How can you bear stepping forward, asking about this and that—about going upward, going downward, the three mysteries and three essentials, snow heaped in a silver bowl, or the intent of hiding one's body within the Northern Dipper? Is this not digging yet another cesspool beside a cesspool? Although it is like this, if in the cesspool you catch some scent of it, only then will you know that all the buddhas of the three times, the ancestral masters of past generations, the venerable old monks throughout the world, and all kalyāṇamitras of past and present are all in the cesspool turning the great wheel of the Dharma. If you have not yet reached this, by all means avoid setting up your livelihood in a cesspool."
Again, he ascended the hall, and after the questions and answers were concluded, he said: "It is good to ask, but not asking is even more intimate. Why? The single path before sound is not transmitted by the thousand sages. Students wear out their bodies like monkeys grasping at reflections. If among them there were an exceptional fellow who, whether thus or not thus, upon barely hearing it mentioned, kicked his legs and walked off—he would still be in a thicket of entangled vines! Even if one attains having nothing to realize within and nothing to cultivate without, like the earth supporting mountains or a rock containing jade, this is still not the place where a patch-robed monk casts away body and life. I venture to ask the assembly: what is the place where a patch-robed monk casts away body and life? If you understand that every speck of dust and every thought is never empty or deficient, turning and bending down, looking up and down are all completely within it. Just at such a time, whose wind and moon is it after all? Do you understand? The thousand sages do not know where he has gone; the long sword leaning against heaven chills one to the bone." He stepped down from the seat.
When the Master preached the Dharma, he did not establish fixed patterns and did not keep to established tracks; mostly it was like this, impossible to cite in full. He once put forward a question to students: "Here I have no dharma to give to people; I merely settle the case based on the confession. It is just like you bringing a lapis lazuli vase, treasuring and guarding it as something precious—as soon as I see it, I smash it to pieces for you. Then you bring a mani jewel, and I snatch that away from you as well. When you come with nothing at all like this, I chop off both your hands too. Therefore Upādhyāya Linji said: 'If you meet a buddha, kill the buddha; if you meet an ancestor, kill the ancestor; if you meet an arhat, kill the arhat.' Since he was called a kalyāṇamitra, why did he instead want to go killing people? Tell me, what principle is this?"
He also once said to monks and laypeople: "After you have investigated Chan, whenever you read sūtras or look at writings, it is just like taking a stroll inside your own house, and just like meeting someone you knew of old. If you wish to seek it through the dregs of words and phrases, there is no truth in that." A Chan practitioner asked the Master to explain Chan sicknesses in detail. The Master said: "What sickness in Chan is there to speak of? Chan has never suffered from headaches, nor has it ever suffered from footaches; it has never suffered from deafness, nor has it ever suffered from dimmed eyesight. It is only that Chan practitioners differ in their investigation, differ in their realization, differ in their application of mind, and differ in their reliance on teachers. Because of these differences, it is nominally called 'sickness'; it does not mean Chan itself has any sickness. 'What is Buddha? Mind itself is Buddha'—what sickness is there? 'Does a dog have buddha-nature or not? No'—what sickness is there? 'If you call it a bamboo comb, you offend; if you do not call it a bamboo comb, you betray'—what sickness is there? 'What is Buddha? Three pounds of hemp'—what sickness is there? 'What is Buddha? A dried shit-stick'—what sickness is there? When you have not penetrated it, as soon as you make conceptual reasoning wanting to penetrate it, you are already ten thousand miles away with no connection whatsoever. Scheming in your mind to converge with it, scheming in your mind to deliberate over it, trying to grasp it where it is raised, or understanding it at the flash of flint-spark or lightning—only this is sickness. Even worldly physicians fold their hands [in helplessness]. Yet ultimately it does not concern the matter of Chan. Zhaozhou said: 'If you want to be a disciple of the Void King, do not allow mind sickness, which is hardest to cure.'"
He once cited: Nanyuan asked Fengxue, "How do they negotiate a single blow of the stick in the South?" Fengxue said, "They negotiate it as extraordinary." Fengxue then asked, "How do they negotiate a single blow of the stick here?" Nanyuan held his staff horizontally and said, "Under the stick, patience with the unarisen; when facing the dynamic, one does not see the master." After the Master cited this, he said, "At that time Fengxue should have properly spread his sitting mat wide and made three prostrations to him; otherwise, he should have overturned his corded chair." Then, looking back at the patch-robed monk Chongmi, he said, "You tell me: at that time, was Fengxue's bowing right, or was overturning the corded chair right?" Chongmi said, "The petty bandit suffered a great defeat." The Master said, "Look at this blind fellow!" and struck him.
He also cited: Whenever Muzhou saw a monk coming, he would say, "A ready-made gong'an—I let you off with thirty blows!" Yunfeng Yue said, "A thief's heart is timid." The Master said, "Another one added who can speak!" He asked Chongmi, "Tell me, is there any fault in my speaking thus?" Chongmi said, "A thief's heart is timid." The Master said, "That makes three." He also cited: A monk asked Dalong, "When the physical body decays and disintegrates, what is the solid Dharma-body?" Dalong said, "The mountain flowers bloom like brocade; the ravine water is deep blue as indigo. How do you understand this?" The monk said, "I do not understand." After the Master cited this, he pointed to the prostration mat and asked a monk standing beside him, "Do you see?" The monk said, "I see." The Master said, "And yet you say you do not understand!" He added, "It is too close; why do you not understand?" The monk was at a loss. The Master said, "Only because it is so extremely distinct, it conversely makes what you attain delayed." In the abbot's room, the Master often asked patch-robed monks: "If you call it a bamboo comb, you offend; if you do not call it a bamboo comb, you betray. You may not utter a word, you may not be without words, you may not deliberate, you may not hesitate, and you may not speculate beneath the sense-faculty of mind."

"You must not take it on where it is raised. Speak quickly! Speak quickly!" A monk intended to offer words; the master immediately hit him and drove him out. At that time, few were capable of dealing with his dynamic functioning. He also said: "If you call it a bamboo comb, that is an infringement; if you do not call it a bamboo comb, that is a contradiction. You may not offer words, you may not be wordless, you may not remain silent for a long while, you may not make conjectures, you may not bow like a woman and circumambulate the meditation couch, and you may not flick your sleeves and walk away. Absolutely none of these are permitted! Suppose you snatch away the bamboo comb; I will allow you to snatch it away. But if I call it a fist, that is an infringement; if I do not call it a fist, that is a contradiction. How will you snatch that away? Even if I let you say, 'Please put it down, Upādhyāya,' and I do put it down, if I call it an exposed pillar, that is an infringement; if I do not call it an exposed pillar, that is a contradiction. How will you snatch that away? If I call it the mountains, rivers, and the great earth, that is an infringement; if I do not call it the mountains, rivers, and the great earth, that is a contradiction. How will you snatch that away?" At that time, Elder Zhoufeng said: "As I see the Upādhyāya's gong'an of the bamboo comb, it is like confiscating someone's family property and then further demanding that they pay tribute." The master said: "Your metaphor is extremely wondrous! I truly do demand that you pay tribute. Having nowhere from which it can come, you must go find a path to death. You might throw yourself into a river or plunge into fire; only when you risk your life can you finally die. Once dead, you slowly come back to life again. If someone calls you a bodhisattva, you are delighted; if someone calls you a thief, you burst into rage. Just as before, you are merely that old person. Therefore the ancients said: 'Letting go over the cliff, one acknowledges it for oneself; reviving after complete extinction, no one can deceive you.' When you reach this point, only then do you accord with the gong'an of the bamboo comb." He further spoke a verse: "Even the single character 'Buddha' brings no joy; / What birth and death could be of any concern? / Meeting face to face at the crucial moment, there is no mutual evasion; / What talk is needed of the eight returns of the Śūraṅgama's meaning?" When the master was propagating the ancestral school, there were contemporary teachers claiming to be lineage masters who took silent illumination and quiescent stillness as fundamental in preaching the Dharma. Seeing that scholar-officials were burdened by worldly entanglements and had agitated minds, they told them to become like cold ashes and withered wood, like a strip of white silk, like an incense burner in an ancient shrine, and to go to a cold and desolate place. They claimed that this Dharma gate could bring rest to people's bodies and minds. The master regarded such views as falling into the demon's cave beneath the black mountain. In the teachings, this is called torpor. Little do they know that if this monkey does not die, how can there be rest? If the one that comes as the vanguard and goes as the rearguard does not die, how can there be rest? Therefore, the master forcefully rejected it every time, calling it the silent illumination Chan of heterodox masters that cuts off the wisdom-life of the Buddhas, which cannot be expiated even if a thousand Buddhas appear in the world. One day while he was sitting in the abbot's room, Zheng Ang, whose style was Shangming, came holding a stick of incense with an indignant air. Both his tone and expression severe, he said: "I, Ang, have a piece of incense not yet burned; I wish to settle a matter with the Upādhyāya. Silent wordlessness is the foremost resting place within the Dharma gates. The Upādhyāya slanders it at will. I suspect in my heart that the Upādhyāya has not reached this realm, which is why your faith does not reach it. Moreover, when Old Śākya was in Magadha, he shut his room for three times seven days without making a sound—was that not the Buddha's silence? In the city of Vaiśālī, thirty-two bodhisattvas each spoke of the non-dual Dharma gate; at the end, Vimalakīrti was wordless, and Mañjuśrī praised it—was that not a bodhisattva's silence? Subhūti sat peacefully in a cave without words or discourse—was that not a śrāvaka's silence? Śakra, Lord of the Gods, seeing Subhūti sitting peacefully in the cave, rained flowers in offering, also without words—was that not an ordinary being's silence? Bodhidharma visited Liang and traversed Wei, sitting coldly at Shaolin for nine years—was that not an ancestral master's silence? Whenever Luzu saw a monk, he faced the wall—was that not a lineage master's silence? Why does the Upādhyāya forcefully reject silent illumination, deeming it heterodox and wrong?" The master said: "Have you ever read Zhuangzi?" He replied: "Indeed, why would I not have read it?" The master said: "Zhuangzi says: 'When words are sufficient, speaking all day long completely expresses the Way; when words are insufficient, speaking all day long completely expresses mere things. The utmost of the Way and of things cannot be conveyed by speech or silence. Neither speech nor silence is where the meaning reaches its utmost.' I have never read Guo Xiang's commentary or the annotations of other schools either; relying solely on my own improvisation, I will smash this silence of yours. Have you not seen how Confucius one day made a great fuss, saying: 'Shen! My Way is bound together by a single thread'? Zengzi replied: 'Yes.' You poor scholars, as soon as you hear the single word 'Yes,' come here and abuse your mouths, saying that this single 'Yes' shares the same root as Heaven and Earth, forming one body with the myriad things; that it places the ruler above Yao and Shun; that it establishes the family, founds the state, produces generals and appoints ministers; and even that when one opens one's hands and feet, it does not depart from this single 'Yes.' Fortunately, none of that has anything to do with it! Little do you know that this principle was simply Zengzi speaking when words were sufficient, and Confucius speaking when words were sufficient. His disciples did not understand and asked, 'What did he mean?' Zengzi, seeing that they could not comprehend, replied to them on a secondary level, considering that the Master's Way could not be without words. Thus he said: 'The Master's Way is nothing more than loyalty and reciprocity.' The crux is that the utmost reaches of the Way and of things do not lie in speech, nor do they lie in silence. Speech cannot convey it, and silence cannot convey it. What you say does not even accord with Zhuangzi's meaning, let alone the meaning of Old Śākya and Grand Master Bodhidharma! Do you want to understand Zhuangzi's meaning where neither speech nor silence reaches the utmost? It is just like Grand Master Yunmen holding up his fan and saying: 'The fan jumps up to the Thirty-Three Heavens and strikes Śakra's nostril; the carp in the Eastern Sea receives a blow of the stick, and the rain pours down like a torrential bucketful.' If you understand this talk of Yunmen's, it is the same as what Zhuangzi said, what Zengzi said, and what Confucius said." Ang was thereupon speechless. The master said: "Although you do not speak, your mind is still not subdued. However, the ancients certainly did not sit in a place of silence; this is evident. Just now you cited Śākya shutting his room and Vimalakīrti's silence. Consider that in the old days there was a lecture master called Master Zhao. Bringing out that wordless place, he spoke it to others, saying: 'Śākya shut his room in Magadha; Vimalakīrti closed his mouth in Vaiśālī; Subhūti proclaimed wordlessness to reveal the Way; Śakra and Brahmā ceased listening and rained down flowers. In all these cases, principle guided the spirit, and therefore the mouth was silent on account of it.'"

"'How can one say there is no debate? It is that debate cannot express it.' This is where principle and spirit suddenly collide. Unawares, one reaches the place where words cannot reach; though silent, its voice is like thunder. Therefore it is said: 'How can one say there is no debate? It is that debate cannot express it.' Here, worldly cleverness and eloquence cannot be used in the slightest. Only when one reaches such a realm is it the place to cast down one's body and yield one's life. Such a realm must be personally verified and awakened to by the person himself. Therefore the Avataṃsaka Sūtra says: 'The palace of the Tathāgata has no bounds; the naturally awakened one dwells within it.' This is the great liberation Dharma-gate of the sages from antiquity: boundless and measureless, without gain or loss, without silence or speech, without going or coming. Every dust mote is thus, every kṣetra is thus, every thought-moment is thus, every dharma is thus. It is only because the capacity of sentient beings is narrow and inferior, and they do not reach the realm of the sages of the three teachings, that they distinguish this from that. Little do they know that the realm is so vast and great, yet they sit silently in the ghost cave beneath the Black Mountain. Hence the former sages reproved it as the deep pit of liberation, a place to be feared. Viewed with the eye of the Way, it is sitting amid mountains of knives, forests of swords, cauldrons of boiling water, and glowing charcoal. Even the ordinary scholastic lecturers do not get stuck in a place of silence, not to mention a guest under the Patriarch's gate, who yet says that as soon as one opens one's mouth one falls into the present time. How fortunate that there is no connection!" Ang unconsciously bowed. The master said, "Although you have bowed, there is still another matter." In the evening he entered the room. The master asked, "How old are you this year?" He said, "Sixty-four." The master asked again, "Where did you come from before sixty-four?" Ang was again speechless. The master then drove him out with the bamboo stick. The next day he came into the room again and said, "Sixty-four years ago, there was not yet any Ang. Why, Upādhyāya, do you ask where Ang came from?" The master said, "Sixty-four years ago, you could not originally have been in the Zheng family of Fuzhou. Right now, this distinct, solitary, and luminous section that listens to the Dharma and speaks the Dharma—before birth, where was it after all?" He said, "I do not know." The master said, "If you do not know, then birth is great. For this life, let us set the limit at a hundred years. After a hundred years, when you want to fly outside the three-thousand great-thousand worlds, you must still enter the coffin with the rest. At that time, the four great elements and five aggregates will disperse all at once. Having eyes, you will not see things; having ears, you will not hear sounds; having a fleshy heart, discrimination will not operate; having a body, fire burning it or knives hacking it will not feel pain. When it comes to this point, where will this distinct, solitary, and luminous one go?" Ang said, "I do not know either." The master said, "Since you do not know, then death is great. Therefore it is said: 'Impermanence is swift; the matter of birth and death is great.' It is just this principle. Here, cleverness cannot be used, nor can memorisation. Let me ask you further: in your whole life you have produced so many literary particles like zhi, hu, zhe, and ye; on the thirtieth day of the twelfth month, which phrase will you take to stand against birth and death? You must clearly know the place of coming into birth and departing into death. If you do not know, you are just an ignorant person." Only then did Ang submit in his heart, beginning to realise that in the place of no words and no speech, everything was mistaken. Because of this, he sought instruction separately and soon attained an awakening abruptly. At that time, Senior Tanyi of Xiangyun and the Chan practitioner Zunpu were companions. At first, while attending Yuanwu at Jiangshan, they had already had an entry. Later they were under the seat of Zhenxie Liao; puffing out their chests, they assumed that no one in the world surpassed them. The master knew they were not thorough, yet had already opened the Dharma hall, and he was concerned they would mislead later students. He sent a letter to Yi, bidding him request leave and come for a short time. Yi was ashamed and delayed his departure. The master then, through a small gathering, severely attacked their errors and posted a placard on the gate to notify the four assemblies. Hearing of this, Yi had no choice but to break the summer retreat and come to the master's assembly. The master questioned what he had verified, telling him, "With such a view as yours, when did you ever dream of old man Yuanwu? If you truly wish to get to the bottom of this matter, step down from your monastery and come." Yi followed this and thereupon returned. After the summer retreat ended, he indeed arrived together with Pu. The two went into the room together. The master asked Pu, "Sansheng said: 'When I meet a person, I go out; going out, I do not act for the person.' Xinghua said: 'When I meet a person, I do not go out; going out, I immediately act for the person.' Tell me, do these two old fellows still have a way out or not?" Pu struck a blow with his fist on the master's knee. The master said, "Does this fist of yours vent anger for Sansheng, or does it vent anger for Xinghua? Speak quickly, speak quickly!" Pu hesitated. The master struck him across the back and further said to him, "Above all, you must not forget this blow of the stick!" He then left. For a long time he could not gain entry. One day, because another monk entered the room, the two listened. The master asked the monk, "Deshan, seeing a monk enter the gate, immediately struck him with his stick. Linji, seeing a monk enter the gate, immediately shouted. Xuefeng, seeing a monk enter the gate, immediately said, 'What is it?' Muzhou, seeing a monk enter the gate, immediately said, 'A ready-made gong'an; I spare you thirty blows of the stick.' Tell me, do these four old fellows still have a way of helping people or not?" The monk said, "They do." The master said, "Zha!" The monk hesitated. The master then shouted him out. Hearing this, Pu suddenly had an awakening. Yi also followed, having a great awakening under a single word. His former wrong knowledge and wrong views dissolved on the spot like ice. Later both became the master's Dharma heirs. The master once held interviews in his room for the assembly. Seeing a monk just enter the door, he immediately asked, "All Buddhas and bodhisattvas, beasts, donkeys and horses, the cypress tree in the courtyard, three pounds of flax, a dried shit-scraper—you are a scoundrel of a thief without face or form!" The monk said, "I have long known the Upādhyāya has this crucial pivot." The master said, "I have already pointlessly entered the wild grass, yet you do not even smell the stench of shit." The monk flicked his sleeves and left. The master said, "Alas, Buddha!" Another monk had just entered the door when the master immediately said, "Wrong! Get out!" The monk then went out. The master said, "A great man of immeasurable stature has been turned around by the current of speech!" Next, a monk entered. The master said, "Wrong! Get out!" The monk instead stepped forward. The master said, "I told you it is wrong, yet you step forward seeking what?" He then beat him out. Yet another monk entered and said, "Just now those two monks did not understand the Upādhyāya's meaning." The master lowered his head and let out an 'Xū' sound. The monk was at a loss. The master then struck him, saying, "And yet you understand this old monk's meaning!" Another monk had just entered when the master said, "You don't understand; get out!" The monk also went out. Another monk entered, and the master said, "The two elders just now: one knows how to gather in, but does not know how to let go."

“One person understands how to release but does not understand how to gather in. Can you distinguish this?” The monk said, “I accept the indictment.” The Master said, “After accepting it, is there any other good news?” The monk clapped his hands once and walked out. The Master said, “Thirty years from now, you will come to awakening.” He also asked a monk, “The Way does not require cultivation; just do not defile it. What is the undefiled Way?” The monk said, “I do not dare to say.” The Master said, “Why do you not dare to say?” The monk said, “I fear defiling it.” The Master called out in a loud voice, “Practitioner, bring the manure basket and broom!” The monk was at a loss. The Master then struck him and drove him out. Another monk had just entered. The Master said, “Old Śākya has come!” The monk stepped forward. The Master said, “So it wasn't him after all!” and struck him. Next, a monk entered. The Master also said, “Old Śākya has come!” The monk bowed directly to him and walked out. The Master said, “He seemed almost genuine.” He also asked a monk, “It is not mind, it is not Buddha, it is not things—what do you make of it?” The monk said, “Understood.” The Master said, “Understood your family's seven generations of ancestors!” The monk then shouted. The Master said, “Just now you understood, and now you shout. What has that got to do with ‘not mind, not Buddha, not things’?” The monk had no words. The Master struck him. He also asked a monk, “When meeting someone who has attained the Way on the road, greeting them neither with speech nor with silence, how is it then?” The monk said, “Take care,” and walked off. The Master burst into loud laughter. Next, a monk came. The Master said, “I just asked that monk: ‘When meeting someone who has attained the Way on the road, greeting them neither with speech nor with silence, how is it then?’ He said ‘Take care’ and walked off. Do you say he understood or not?” The monk was about to make a bow. The Master struck him and drove him out. He also asked a monk, “What kind of person does not keep company with the ten thousand phenomena?” The monk said, “A faceless fellow.” The Master said, “Just now there was a monk who spoke like that, and I struck him out.” The monk hesitated. The Master struck him. He also asked a monk, “Great Master Ma said, ‘For thirty years since the barbarian rebellion, I have never lacked salt or sauce.’ What does this mean?” The monk said, “According to the family's means, whether abundant or meager.” The Master said, “A fine ‘according to the family's means, whether abundant or meager’—it is just that you do not understand.” The monk hesitated. The Master shouted him out. He also asked a monk, “What do you make of Xiangyan's ‘up a tree’ case?” The monk said, “A fine thing to sing ‘The Partridge’ facing the spring breeze.” The Master said, “Head Monk Hutou said, ‘I do not ask about being up in the tree; before going up the tree, please speak, Master!’ What would you make of that?” The monk said, “I just spoke to the Upādhyāya.” The Master said, “‘A fine thing to sing “The Partridge” facing the spring breeze’—are these words from up in the tree or under the tree?” The monk had no reply. The Master struck him. He also asked his attendant, “Of the many people who enter the abbot's room, how many hit the mark, and how many miss the mark?” The attendant said, “I only watch.” The Master suddenly held out his hand and said, “How is my hand like a Buddha's hand?” The attendant said, “The weather is cold; please, Master, put your hands in your sleeves and walk.” The Master struck him once with the bamboo clapper and said, “Tell me, is this rewarding you or punishing you?” The attendant had no reply. A monk asked for instruction: “I do not know where I will go when I die.” The Master said, “Right now, are you alive or are you dead?” The monk said, “I do not say alive, nor do I say dead.” The Master said, “You can only be Jianyuan's servant.” The monk hesitated. The Master struck him and drove him out. Another monk came. The Master said, “Just now that monk suffered a total defeat. Do you know it?” The monk said, “I know.” The Master also struck him out. Another monk asked for instruction on the Jiashan's border case. Before his voice ceased, the Master shouted. The monk was at a loss. The Master said, “What did you ask?” The monk was about to bring it up again. The Master struck him repeatedly and shouted him out. Another monk asked for instruction: “I cannot succeed in Chan investigation; where is the illness?” The Master said, “The illness is right here.” The monk said, “Why can I not investigate?” The Master said, “You fellow who wets the bed with open eyes, I will beat you away!” The dynamic encounters in the Master's abbot's room were like swirling whirlpools and fluent displays of eloquence, impossible to toy with; unless one was of the very highest spiritual capacity, one could not approach them. When the Master resided at Jingshan, his renown was celebrated in his era. Figures such as Vice-Minister Zhang Gong Shaoshao, Top Scholar Wang Gong Shengxi, and Vice-Director Feng Gong Jichuan all inquired about the Way, and the rest were all famous literati and officials of the time. The Master opened up awakening according to their capacities, without any evasion. However, those who held the helm of state power at the time hated him because he criticized them. Consequently, trumped-up charges were brought against him, his robes were stripped, and he was banished to Hengzhou for a total of ten years, and then moved to Meizhou. Meizhou was a desolate place of pestilential vapors, yet patch-robed monks packed their provisions and followed him, with no regrets even unto death. After another eight years, Emperor Gaozong showed special favor and pardoned his return. The following year, his monastic robes were restored. Monasteries everywhere left their seats vacant to invite him, but he consistently declined to take them up. Finally, by imperial decree, he resided at Yuwang. A large assembly gathered, and food supplies could not keep up; he embanked several tens of qing of tidal land into fields, and an edict bestowed on his estate the name ‘Prajñā’. After another two years, an edict reassigned him back to Jingshan. When the Master resided at Jingshan a second time, both monastics and laity admired him as though seeing their own kin. Though old, he guided younger students without the least weariness. He retired to reside in the Mingyue Hall. Prior to this, when Emperor Xiaozong was Prince of Pu'an, he had heard the Master's name and once sent an internal chief supervisor to Jingshan to pay respects to the Master. The Master composed a gāthā to present to him, which said: ‘Of great roots, great capacity, and great strength, / Bearing the great matter, extraordinary. / Communicating the message on the tip of a single hair, / Distinct and bright throughout the world, not hidden.’ The Prince was greatly pleased. When he resided at the Jian mansion, he again sent an internal guest-prefect to invite the Master to preach the Dharma for the assembly in the mountains, personally wrote the large characters ‘Miaoxi Hermitage’, and composed a verse of praise for the Master's portrait, which he bestowed upon him: ‘Arising and ceasing are unceasing; / The ever-abiding does not abide. / Complete enlightenment, empty and luminous, / Manifesting wherever things appear.’ The Master expanded this into four gāthās and presented them; when the Prince read them, he was even more pleased. After another two years, the Prince ascended the throne; he thereupon bestowed the title Chan Master Dahui, took the imperial calligraphy bestowed earlier, and affixed the imperial seal to it. The imperial favor grew increasingly generous, and the Emperor wished to summon him for an audience, but the Master had already fallen ill. On the tenth day of the eighth month in the first year of Longxing, he manifested his passing into quiescence at Mingyue Hall on Jingshan. When His Majesty heard of it, he sighed and lamented incessantly; by decree, Mingyue Hall was made Miaoxi Hermitage, and the posthumous title Pujue was bestowed. When he was about to manifest quiescence, he personally wrote his final memorial to the throne, and after sealing it, the attendant monks requested a final verse. The Master said in a stern voice, ‘Without a verse, I wouldn't be able to die, eh?’ He asked for a brush and wrote in large characters: ‘Birth is just like this; / Death is just like this. / Having a verse or having no verse—