續傳燈錄 3.5.2

3.5.2

The rest of the text is long, so I leave it for tomorrow.’ He gave a shout and descended from the seat. He ascended the hall. After remaining silent for a long time, he said, ‘A person of non-action and non-affair is still troubled by the golden chains.’ He gave a shout and descended from the seat. A monk asked, ‘What is the Buddha?’ The Master said, ‘Water emerging from a high plateau.’ The monk asked, ‘What is the environment of Nanyuan?’ The Master said, ‘The Yellow River with its nine bends, water flowing out of Kunlun.’ The monk asked, ‘What is the person within the environment?’ The Master said, ‘Going along with the flow without looking back, chopping off a hand and gazing toward Fusang.’ He ascended the hall: ‘Clouds gather and mists disperse; the bright sun is in mid-sky. Without falling into light or dark, how do you communicate the message?’ A monk asked, ‘What about when one searches in the deep mountains and cannot find it?’ The Master said, ‘The mouth can invite disaster.’ The monk asked, ‘What is the great meaning of the Buddha Dharma?’ The Master said, ‘In Dongting Lake, the waves billow to heaven.’ The monk asked, ‘What about when surging in the east and sinking in the west?’ The Master said, ‘Seek.’ The monk asked, ‘What about walking alone in the quiet of the night?’ The Master said, ‘Three bundles of thatch.’ The monk asked, ‘What about when the precious sword has not yet left its scabbard?’ The Master said, ‘It rings.’ The monk said, ‘What about after it has left the scabbard?’ The Master let out a hiss. The monk asked, ‘What about finding quiet in the midst of noise?’ The Master said, ‘Pillowing the head on a cloth sack.’ The monk asked, ‘What about Niutou before seeing the Fourth Patriarch?’ The Master said, ‘Mound upon mound.’ The monk said, ‘What about after seeing him?’ The Master said, ‘Mound upon mound.’ The monk asked, ‘What about when gaining once is gaining forever?’ The Master said, ‘Embracing a rock and throwing oneself into the river.’ The monk asked, ‘What about relying on the sword Moye to take the Master's head?’ The Master said, ‘Chop it off and take it away.’ The monk hesitated, and the Master struck him. The Master stayed for three years and then departed. He visited Chan Master Shending Yin. Shending was a senior disciple of Shoushan, of revered reputation in his time. Unless patch-robed monks were remarkably refined and outstanding, none dared to enter his gate. Having resided on the mountain for thirty years, his disciples swallowed up the other regions in prestige. The Master’s hair was long and uncut, wearing tattered clothes and speaking with a Chu accent. He announced his visit calling himself a Dharma nephew. The whole assembly laughed loudly. Shending sent an attendant boy to ask, ‘Whose Dharma heir is the elder?’ The Master looked up at the ceiling and said, ‘I come having seen Fenyang directly.’ Shending, leaning on his staff, came out. Looking at him, seeing how tall he was, he asked, ‘Fenzhou has the Lion of Xihe, does it not?’ The Master pointed behind him and screamed, ‘The house is collapsing!’ The boy ran back. Shending looked back with startled eyes. The Master sat on the ground, took off a shoe, and gazed at it. Old Shending forgot what he had asked, and also lost track of where the Master was. The Master slowly stood up, adjusted his robes, and walking away said, ‘Seeing the face is not as good as hearing the name.’ He then left. Shending sent someone to pursue him, but they could not catch him. He sighed and said, ‘Does Fenzhou indeed have such a boy?’ From then on, the Master’s reputation was weighty throughout the monasteries. The śramaṇa Benyan of Dinglin was a person of virtuous practice, well trusted and respected by the scholar-officials. Shending met Yan and praised the Master, saying his understanding could revive the Linji school. It happened that Daowu’s seat became vacant; Yan petitioned the commandery to invite the Master to preside over it. His monastic regulations were orderly and strict; those who forgot their bodies for the Dharma gathered there. He ascended the hall: ‘The former Baoying said, “If you comprehend the first sentence, you are worthy to be the teacher of buddhas and patriarchs. If you comprehend the second sentence, you are worthy to be the teacher of humans and devas. If you comprehend the third sentence, you cannot even save yourself.” Daowu is not like this. If you comprehend the first sentence, you mix with mud and water. If you comprehend the second sentence, you bind yourself without rope. If you comprehend the third sentence, all four corners hit the ground. Therefore it is said, when arising, the seas are serene and rivers clear, and travellers stay off the road; when resting, heaven and earth lose their colour, and the sun and moon have no light. Where do you people breathe out? Right now, is there anyone breathing out? If there is, come out before the assembly and breathe out for us to see. If there is no one, Daowu will breathe out for you.’ Then he let out a hiss, struck his staff once, and descended from the seat. He ascended the hall: ‘Daowu beats the drum, and the four great continents participate together. The staff held horizontally levers up heaven and earth, the great earth. The alms bowl turned upside down covers the worlds as numerous as the sands of the Ganges. But tell me: where do you establish your lives? If you know, you eat gruel and rice in Uttarakuru. If you do not know, you eat gruel and rice on the long connected platform.’ Next he resided at Shishuang. At the end of the summer retreat, he said to the assembly: / ‘Yesterday a baby, / today old age is here. / Not having clarified the three, eight, and nine, / it is difficult to tread the ancient sovereigns’ road. / The hand scoops the Yellow River dry; / the foot kicks Mount Sumeru over. / Floating life is a dream-phantom body; / human life can hardly be preserved by evening. / Heaven and hell / are both created by the mind. / Pines of the southern mountain and northern peak; / grass of the northern peak and southern mountain. / A single rainfall moistens boundlessly; / shoots and dry stalks grow robust. / Those who travel the five lakes to study and practice, / only ask and seek from empty space. / Dying, one sheds the summer shirt; / born, one puts on the winter coat. / Clearly a person of non-affair, / purposely giving rise to afflictions.’ / He gave a shout and descended from the seat. He ascended the hall: ‘A single shout distinguishes guest and host; illumination and function operate at once. If you want to understand the meaning within this: strike the third watch at midday.’ He then gave a shout and said, ‘Tell me, is it guest or host? Is there anyone who can distinguish them? If you can distinguish them, in the morning thirty blows, in the evening eight hundred blows. If you cannot yet, this old monk takes the loss.’ Because companions of the Way visited, he ascended the hall: / ‘A rustling cool breeze and scene; / fellow travellers visit the lonely seclusion. / Boiling tea with water from the mountain; / heating the cauldron with firewood from the cave. / Take care.’ A monk asked, ‘What was it like before Bodhidharma came?’ The Master said, ‘In Chang’an, night after night, the moon shines on every home.’ The monk asked, ‘What about after he came?’ The Master said, ‘Music and songs in a few places; sorrow in a few places.’ The monk asked, ‘What about when not bringing a single thing?’ The Master said, ‘Locust trees form a forest.’ The monk asked, ‘What about when fire comes from the four mountains?’ The Master said, ‘Things flourish according to people.’ The monk asked, ‘What about ascending higher step by step?’ The Master said, ‘Clouds arise beneath the feet.’ The monk asked, ‘What was the ancient's intention in sealing blank paper?’ The Master said, ‘Poor at home, rich on the road.’ The monk asked, ‘What is the meaning of the Patriarch’s coming from the West?’ The Master said, ‘Three days of wind, five days of rain.’ He ascended the hall: ‘As for a lineage master, he snatches away the gem in the impoverished person's garment, and scrutinizes the insight of those who have attained. If not like this, they are all fellows who mix with mud and water.’ After a long silence, he said: / ‘When meeting a swordsman on the road, one must present a sword; / unless to a poet, do not offer poetry.’ / He gave a shout. He ascended the hall: ‘I have a phrase that cuts off deliberate thought and forgets conditions. It cannot be cleverly spoken; it only requires mind transmission. I also have an utterance that is nothing other than a direct presentation. But what is the sentence of direct presentation?’ After a long silence, he drew a line with his staff and gave a shout. A monk asked, ‘When one's own affair is not yet clarified, what serves as proof?’ The Master said,