IV. From the Chinese Zen Masters

"O monks, let each of you see into his own Mind. Do not memorize what I tell you. However eloquently I may talk about all kinds of things as innumerable as the sands of the Ganges, the Mind shows no increase; even when no talk is possible, the Mind shows no decrease. You may talk ever so much about it, and it is still your own Mind; you may not at all talk about it, and it is just the same your own Mind. You may divide your body into so many forms, and emitting rays of supernatural light perform the eighteen miracles, and yet what you have gained is after all no more than your own dead ashes. "The dead ashes thoroughly wet have no vitality and are likened to the Sravaka's disciplining himself in the cause in order to attain its result. The dead ashes not yet wet are full of vitality and are likened to the Bodhisattva, whose life in the Tao is pure and not at all dyed in evils. If I begin to talk about the various teachings given out by the Tathagata, there will be no end however long through ages I may go on. They are like an endless series of chains. But once you have an insight into the Buddha-mind, nothing in Lore is left to you to attain. "I have kept you standing long enough, fare you well!" P'ang the lay-disciple' asked one day when Ma-tsu appeared in the pulpit: "Here is the Original Body altogether unbedimmed! Raise your eyes to it!" Ma-tsu looked straight downward. Said Fang, "How beautifully the master plays on the first-class stringless lute!" The master looked straight up. P'ang made a bow, and the master returned to his own room. Fang followed him and said, "A while ago you made a fool of yourself, did you not?"

Someone asked: "What is the Buddha?" "Mind is the Buddha, and there's no other." A monk asked: "Without resorting to the four statements and an endless series of negations, can you tell me straightway what is the idea of our Patriarch's coming from the West?" The master said: "I don't feel like answering it today. You go to the Western Hall and ask Shih-tsang about it." The monk went to the Western Hall and saw the priest, who pointing at his head with a finger said, "My head aches today and I am unable to explain it to you today. I advise you to go to Brother Hai." [1. Ho-koji in Japanese. He was one of the greatest disciples of Ma, and for further quotations see my Essays on Zen, I, II, and III.] The monk now called on Hai, and Hai said: "As to that I do not understand." The monk finally returned to the master and told him about his adventure. Said the master: "Tsang's head is black while Hai's is white." A monk asked: "Why do you teach that Mind is no other than Buddha?" "In order to make a child stop its crying." "When the crying is stopped, what would you say?" "Neither Mind nor Buddha." "What teaching would you give to him who is not in these two groups?" "I will say, 'It is not a something.' "If you unexpectedly interview a person who is in it what would you do?" finally, asked the monk. "I will let him realize the great Tao." The master asked Pai-chang, one of his chief disciples: How would you teach others?"

The master asked Pai-chang, one of his chief disciples: How would you teach others?" Pai-chang raised his hossu. The master remarked, "Is that all? No other way?" Pai-chang threw the hossu down. A monk asked: "How does a man set himself in harmony with the Tao?" "I am already out of harmony." Tan-yuan, one of Ma-tsu's personal disciples, came back from his pilgrimage. When he saw the master, he drew a circle on the floor and after making bows stood on it facing the master. Said Ma-tsu: "So you wish to become a Buddha?" The monk said: "I do not know the art of putting my own eyes out of focus." "I am not your equal." The monk had no answer. One day in the first month of the fourth year of Chen-yuan (788), while walking in the woods at Shih-men Shan, Ma-tsu noticed a cave with a flat floor. He said to his attendant monk, "My body subject to decomposition will return to earth here in the month to come." On the fourth of the second month, he was indisposed as he predicted, and after a bath he sat cross-legged and passed away. VI HUANG-PO'S SERMON, FROM "TREATISE ON THE ESSENTIALS OF THE TRANSMISSION OF MIND" (DENSHIN HOYO) The master[1] said to Pai-hsiu: Buddhas and sentient beings[2] both grow out of One Mind, and there is no other reality than this Mind. It has been in existence since the beginningless past; it knows neither birth nor death; it is neither blue nor yellow; it has neither shape nor form; it is beyond the category of being and non-being; it is not to be measured by age, old or new; it is neither long nor short; it is neither large nor small; for it transcends all limits, words, traces, and opposites. It must be taken just as it is in itself; when an attempt is made on our part to grasp it in our thoughts, it eludes. It is like space whose boundaries are altogether beyond measurement; no concepts are applicable here.

[1. Wobaku Ki-un in Japanese, died 850. 2 One of the first lessons in the understanding of Buddhism is to know what is meant by the Buddha and by sentient beings. This distinction goes on throughout all branches of the Buddhist teaching. The Buddha is an enlightened one who has seen into the reason of existence, while sentient beings are ignorant multitudes confused in mind and full of defilements. The object of Buddhism is to have all sentient beings attain enlightenment like the Buddha. The question is whether they are of the same nature as the latter; for if not they can never be enlightened as he is. The spiritual cleavage between the two being seemingly too wide for passage, it is often doubted whether there is anything in sentient beings that will transform them into Buddhahood. The position of Zen Buddhism is that One Mind pervades all and therefore there is no distinction to be made between the Buddha and sentient beings and that as far as Mind is concerned the two are of one nature. What then is this Mind? Huang-po attempts to solve this question for his disciple Pai-hsiu in these sermons.] This One Mind only is the Buddha, who is not to be segregated from sentient beings. But because we seek it outwardly in a world of form, the more we seek the further it moves away from us. To make Buddha seek after himself, or to make Mind take hold of itself--this is an impossibility to the end of eternity. We do not realize that as soon as our thoughts cease and all attempts at forming ideas are forgotten the Buddha reveals himself before us.

This Mind is no other than the Buddha, and Buddha is no other than sentient being. When Mind assumes the form of a sentient being, it has suffered no decrease; when it becomes a Buddha, it has not added anything to itself. Even when we speak of the six virtues of perfection (paramitas) and other ten thousand meritorious deeds equal in number to the sands of the Ganges, they are all in the being of Mind itself; they are not something that can be added to it by means of discipline. When conditions' are at work, it is set up; when conditions cease to operate, it remains quiet. Those who have no definite faith in this, that Mind is Buddha and attempt an achievement by means of a discipline attached to form, are giving themselves up to wrong imagination; they deviate from the right path. This Mind is no other than Buddha; there is no Buddha outside Mind, nor is there any Mind outside Buddha. This Mind is pure and like space has no specific forms [whereby it can be distinguished from other objects]. As soon as you raise a thought and begin to form an idea of it, you ruin the reality itself, because you then attach yourself to form. Since the beginningless past, there is no Buddha who has ever had an attachment to form. If you seek Buddhahood by practising the six virtues of perfection and other ten thousand deeds of merit, this is grading [the attainment of Buddhahood]; but since the begnningless past there is no Buddha whose attainment was so graded. When you get an insight into the One Mind you find there that is no particular reality

[1. Yuan in Chinese and pratyaya in Sanskrit. One of the most significant technical terms in the philosophy of Buddhism.] [which you can call Mind]. This unattainability is no other than the true Buddha himself. Buddhas and sentient beings grow out of the One Mind and there are no differences between them. It is like space where there are no complexities, nor is it subject to destruction. It is like the great sun which illumines the four worlds: when it rises, its light pervades all over the world, but space itself gains thereby no illumination. When the sun sets, darkness reigns everywhere, but space itself does not share this darkness. Light and darkness drive each other out and alternately prevail, but space itself is vast emptiness and suffers no vicissitudes. The same may be said of the Mind that constitutes the essence of Buddha as well as that of sentient being. When you take Buddha for a form of purity, light, and emancipation and sentient beings for a form of defilement, darkness, and transmigration, you will never have the occasion however long [your striving may go on] for attaining enlightenment; for so long as you adhere to this way of understanding, you are attached to form. And in this One Mind there is not a form of particularity to lay your hand on. That Mind is no other than Buddha is not understood by Buddhists of the present day; and because of their inability of seeing into the Mind as it is, they imagine a mind beside Mind itself and seek Buddha outwardly after a form. This way of disciplining is an error, is not the way of enlightenment.

That Mind is no other than Buddha is not understood by Buddhists of the present day; and because of their inability of seeing into the Mind as it is, they imagine a mind beside Mind itself and seek Buddha outwardly after a form. This way of disciplining is an error, is not the way of enlightenment. It is better to make offerings to a spiritual man who is free from mind-attachment' than to make offerings to all [1. Wu-hsin, or mu-shin in Japanese. The term literally means "no-mind" or "no-thought". It is very difficult to find an English word corresponding to it. "Unconsciousness" approaches it, but the connotation is too psychological. Mu-shin is decidedly an Oriental idea. "To be free from mind-attachment" is somewhat circumlocutionary, but the idea is briefly to denote that state of consciousness in which there is no hankering, conscious or unconscious ' after an ego-substance, or a soul-entity, or a mind as forming the structural unit of our mental life. Buddhism considers this hankering the source of all evils moral and intellectual. It is the disturbing agency not only of an individual life but of social life at large. A special article in one of my Zen Essays will be devoted to the subject.] the Buddhas in the ten quarters. Why? Because to be free from mind-attachment means to be free from all forms of imagination. Suchness as it expresses itself inwardly may be likened o wood or rock, it remains there unmoved, unshaken; while outwardly it is like space, nothing is obstructed or checked. Suchness, as it is free both from activity and passivity, knows no orientation, it has no form, there is in it neither gain nor loss. Those who are running [wildly] do not dare enter this path, for they are afraid of falling into an emptiness where there is no foothold to keep them supported. They beat a retreat as they face it. They are as a rule seekers of learning and intellectual understanding. Many are indeed such seekers, like hair, while those who see into the truth are as few as horns.

Manjusri corresponds to li (reason or principle) and Samantabhadra to hsing (life or action). Li is the principle of true emptiness and non-obstruction, hsing is a life of detachment from form, and inexhaustible. Avalokitesvara 'corresponds to perfect love and Sthamaprapta to perfect wisdom. Vimala-kirti means "undefiled name"; undefiled is Essence and name is form. Essence and form are not two different things, hence the name Vimala-kirti ("pure-name"). All that is represented by each one of the great Bodhisattvas is present in each of us, for it is the contents of One Mind. All will be well when we are awakened to the truth. Buddhists of the present day look outward, instead of inwardly into their own minds. They get themselves attached to forms and to the world--which is the violation of the truth. To the sands of the Ganges the Buddha refers in this way: these sands are trodden and passed over by all the Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Sakrendra, and other devas, but the sands are not thereby gladdened; they are again trodden y cattle, sheep, insects, and ants, but they are not thereby incensed; they may hide within themselves all kinds of treasures and scented substances, but they are not covetous; they may be soiled with all kinds of filth and ill-smelling material, but they do not loathe them. A mental attitude Of this nature is that of one who has realized the state of mushin ("being free from mind-attachment").

When a mind is free from all form, it sees into [the fact] that there is no distinction between Buddhas and sentient beings; when once this state of mushin is attained it completes the Buddhist life. If Buddhists are unable to see into the truth of mushin without anything mediating, all their discipline of aeons would not enable them to attain enlightenment. They would ever be in bondage with the notion of discipline and merit as cherished by followers of the Triple Vehicle, they would never achieve emancipation. In the attainment of this state of mind (mushin), some are quicker than others. There are some who attain to a state of mushin all at once by just listening to a discourse on the Dharma, while there are others who attain to it only after going through all the grades of Bodhisattvaship such as the ten stages of faith, the ten stages of abiding, the ten stages of discipline, and the ten stages of turning-over. More or less time may be required in the attainment of mushin, but once attained it puts an end to all discipline, to all realization and yet there is really nothing attained. It is truth and not falsehood. Whether this mushin is attained in one thought or attained after going through the ten stages its practical working is the same and there is no question of the one being deeper or shallower than the other. Only the one has passed through long ages of hard discipline.

Committing evils or practising goodness-both are the outcome of attachment to form. When evils are committed on account of attachment to form, one has to suffer transmigration; when goodness is practised on account of attachment to form, one has to go through a life of hardships. It is better therefore to see all at once into the essence of the Dharma as you listen to it discoursed. By the Dharma is meant Mind, for there is no Dharma apart from Mind. Mind is no other than the Dharma, for there is no Mind apart from the Dharma. This Mind in itself is no-mind (mushin), and there is no no-mind either. When no-mind is sought after by a mind, this is making it a particular object of thought. There is only testimony of silence, it goes beyond thinking. Therefore it is said that [the Dharma] cuts off the passage to words and puts an end to all form of mentation. This Mind is the Source, the Buddha absolutely pure in its nature, and is present in every one of us. All sentient beings however mean and degraded are not in this particular respect different from Buddhas and Bodhisattvas--they are all of one substance. Only because of their imaginations and false discriminations, sentient beings work out their karma and reap its result, while, in their Buddha-essence itself, there is nothing corresponding to it; the Essence is empty and allows everything to pass through, it is quiet and at rest, it is illuminating, it is peaceful and productive of bliss.

When you have within yourself a deep insight into this you immediately realize that all that you need is there in perfection, and in abundance, and nothing is at all wanting in you. You may have most earnestly and diligently disciplined yourself for the past three asamkhyeya kalpas and passed through all the stages of Bodhisattvahood; but when you come to have a realization in one thought, it is no other than this that you are from the first the Buddha himself and no other. The realization has not added anything to you over this truth. When you look back and survey all the disciplinary measures you have gone through, you only find that they have been no more than so many idle doings in a dream. Therefore, it is told by the Tathagata that he had nothing attained when he had enlightenment, and that if he had really something attained, Buddha Dipankara would never have testified to it. It is told again by the Tathagata that this Dharma is perfectly even and free from irregularities. By Dharma is meant Bodhi. That is, this pure Mind forming the source of all things is perfectly even in all sentient beings, in all the Buddha-lands, and also in all the other worlds together with mountains, oceans, etc., things with form and things without form. They are all even, and there arc no marks of distinction between this object and that. This pure Mind, the Source of all things, is always perfect and illuminating and all-pervading. People are ignorant of this and take what they see or hear or think of or know for Mind itself; and their insight is then veiled and unable to penetrate into the substance itself which is clear and illuminating. When you realize mushin without anything intervening [that is, intuitively], the substance itself is revealed to you. It is like the sun revealing itself in the sky, its illumination penetrates the ten quarters and there is nothing that will interfere with its passage.

For this reason, when followers of Zen fail to go beyond a world of their senses and thoughts, all their doings and movements are of no significance. But when the senses and thoughts are annihilated, all the passages to the Mind are blocked and no entrance then becomes possible. The original Mind is to be recognized along with the working of the senses and thoughts, only it does not belong to them, nor is it independent of them. Do not build up your views on your senses and thoughts, do not carry on your understanding based on the senses and thoughts; but at the same time do not seek the Mind away from your senses and thoughts, do not grasp the Dharma by rejecting your senses and thoughts. When you are neither attached to nor detached from them, when you are neither abiding with nor clinging to them, then you enjoy your perfect unobstructed freedom, then you have your seat of enlightenment. When people learn that what is transmitted from one Buddha to another is Mind itself, they imagine that there is a particular object known as a mind which they attempt to grasp or to realize; but this is seeking something outside Mind itself, or creating something which does not exist. In reality, Mind alone is. You cannot pursue it by setting up another mind; however long, through hundreds of thousands of kalpas, you are after it, no time will ever come to you when you can say that you have it. Only when you have an immediate awakening to the state of mushin you have your own Mind. It is like the strong man's seeking for his own gem hidden within his forehead: as long as he seeks it outside himself in the ten quarters, he will not come across it; but let the wise once point at it where it lies hidden, and the man instantly perceives his own gem as having been there from the very first.

That followers of Zen fail to recognize the Buddha is due to their not rightly recognizing Where their own Mind is. They seek it outwardly, set up all kinds of exercises which they hope to master by degrees, and themselves work out diligently throughout ages. Yet they fail to reach enlightenment. No works compare with an immediate awakening to a state of mushin itself. When you come to a most decided understanding to the effect that all things in their nature are without possessions, without attainments, without dependence, without an abiding place, without mutual conditioning, you will become free from cherishing imagination, which is to realize Bodhi. When Bodhi is realized, your own Mind which is Buddha is realized. All the doings of long ages are then found to have been anything but real disciplining. When the strong man recovered his own gem in his own forehead the recovery had nothing to do with all his efforts wasted in his outside research. So says the Buddha, "I have not had anything attained in my attainment of Enlightenment." Being anxious about our not believing this, he refers to the five eyes[1] and the five statements.[2] But it is truth, not falsehood, for it is the first true statement. [1. The five eyes are: (1) the physical eye, (2) the heavenly eye, (3) the eye of wisdom, (4) the eye of the Dharma, and (5) the eye of the Buddha. 2. In the Diamond Sutra (Vajracchedika), the Buddha makes five statements as regards the truth of his teaching.]

2. In the Diamond Sutra (Vajracchedika), the Buddha makes five statements as regards the truth of his teaching.] VII GENSHA ON THE: THREE INVALIDS[1] Preliminary Remark When gates and courts are established, then there are twos, there are threes, there is a realm of multiplicities; when a deep discourse is carried on on the highest subjects of intuition a world of sevens and eights is thoroughly broken through. In whatever ways views and opinions may be presented, they are crushed to pieces so that the barricades even when they are of golden chains are successfully brushed aside. When orders are given from the highest quarters, all traces are wiped off, leaving nothing whereby trailing is made possible. When do we come across such a koan? Let one who has an eye on the forehead see to it.[2] Illustrative Case Gensha gave the following sermon: "It is asserted by all the worthy masters of the present time that they are working for the benefit of all beings. [--Each keeps a shop according to his means.--Some are rich and others are poor.] "This being the case, what will you do if there suddenly appear before you three kinds of invalids? [--By beating up the weeds, we mean to frighten snakes out.--As for me, it makes my eyes open wide and my mouth close.-We all have to beat a retreat even for three thousand 1i.] "Those who are blind fail to see you even when you [1. Hsuan-sha, 835-908. The following is a literal translation of Case LXXXVIII of the Pi-yen Chi, which is one of the most important and at the same time the most popular of Zen texts. The words in brackets in the "Illustrative Case" and in Seccho's verse are those of Yengo. As to the nature and composition of the Pi-yen Chi, see my Zen Essays, Series II, p. 237 et seq.

[1. Hsuan-sha, 835-908. The following is a literal translation of Case LXXXVIII of the Pi-yen Chi, which is one of the most important and at the same time the most popular of Zen texts. The words in brackets in the "Illustrative Case" and in Seccho's verse are those of Yengo. As to the nature and composition of the Pi-yen Chi, see my Zen Essays, Series II, p. 237 et seq. 2. The Remark purposes to make the reader abandon his usual relative point of view so that he can reach the absolute ground of all things.] hold up a mallet or a hossu. [--Blind to the very core.--This is no other than 'benefiting all beings'.--Not necessarily failing to see.] "Those who are deaf fail to hear you even when you talk volubly enough. [--Deaf to the very core!--This is no other than 'benefiting all beings'.--Not necessarily altogether deaf.--That something is still unheard.] "Those who are dumb fail to speak out, whatever under. standing they may have inwardly. [--Dumb to the very core!--This is no other than 'benefiting all beings'.--Not necessarily altogether dumb.--That something is still left untold of.] "What treatment are you going to accord to such people? If you do not know how to go on with them, Buddhism must be said to be lacking in miraculous works." [--Quite true, this world-I am ready to give myself up with my hands folded.--"Benefiting" already accomplished!--"He then struck."] A monk asked Ummon (Yun-men) to be enlightened. [--It is also important to go about and inquire.--Hit!]

A monk asked Ummon (Yun-men) to be enlightened. [--It is also important to go about and inquire.--Hit!] Said Ummon, "You make bows." [--As the wind blows, the grass bends.--Ch'ua!] When the monk rose from making bows, [--This monk's staff is broken!] Ummon poked him with a staff, and the monk drew back. Said Ummon, "You are not blind then?" [--Blind to the very core!--Do not say that this monk has a failing eye-sight.] Ummon now told him to approach, and the monk approached. [--Washed with a second dipperful of dirty water.--Kwan-non is come! To give a "Kwatz!" was better.] Said Ummon, "You are not deaf then?" [--Deaf to the very core!--Do not say that this monk is deaf in his ears.] Ummon further continued, "Do you understand?" [--Why does he not feed him with the right forage?--Pity that he then uttered a word at all.] "No, master, I do not," was the reply. [--A double koan!--What a pity!] Ummon said, "You are not dumb then?" [--Dumb is to the very core!--What eloquence!--Do not say that this monk is dumb.] The monk now grasped the point. [--Stretching the bow when the burglar is off.--What old bowl is he after?] Commentary Notes Gensha gives this sermon from his standpoint where he is now able to sit, after years of his study of Zen, in absolute nakedness with no trumpery trimmings about him, altogether shorn of imaginations and free from conceptualism. In those days there were many Zen monasteries each of which rivalled the others. Gensha used to give this sermon to his monks:

Gensha gives this sermon from his standpoint where he is now able to sit, after years of his study of Zen, in absolute nakedness with no trumpery trimmings about him, altogether shorn of imaginations and free from conceptualism. In those days there were many Zen monasteries each of which rivalled the others. Gensha used to give this sermon to his monks: "It is asserted by all the worthy masters of the present time that they are working for the benefit of all beings. This being the case, what will you do if three kinds of invalids suddenly appear before you here? Those who are blind fail to see you even when you hold up a mallet or a hossu. Those who are deaf fail to hear you even when you may talk volubly enough. Those who are dumb fail to speak out whatever understanding they may have inwardly. What treatment are you going to accord to such people? If you do not know how to go on with them, Buddhism must be said to be lacking in miraculous works." If people understand him here as merely making reference to the blind, to the deaf, to the dumb, they are vainly groping in the dark. Therefore, it is said that you are not to search for the meaning in the words which kill; you are requested to enter directly into the spirit itself of Gensha, when you will grasp the meaning. As Gensha ordinarily tested his monks with this statement, a monk who was staying for some time with him one day accosted him when he came up to the Dharma-hall, and asked: "Will you allow me to present my way of reasoning about your sermon on the three invalids?" Gensha said, "Yes, you may go on." Whereupon the monk remarked, "Fare thee well, O master!" and left the room. Gensha said, "Not that, not that." We can see that this monk has fully grasped Gensha.

Later on, Hogen (Fa-yen, died 958) made this statement: "When I listened to Master Jizo (Ti-tsang) making reference is to this monk's remark, I was enabled to understand Gensha's sermon on the three invalids." I ask you now. "[Here is a puzzle for you, O monks!] If that monk did not understand Gensha, how was it that Hogen made this statement of his? If that monk understood Gensha, why did the latter declare, 'Not that, not that'?" One day Jizo said to Gensha, "I am told that you have given a sermon on the three invalids, is that so?" Gensha answered, "Yes." Jizo then said, "I have my eyes, cars, nose, and tongue; what treatment would you give me?" Gensha was quite satisfied with this request on the part of Jizo. When Gensha is understood, you will realize that his spirit is not to be sought in words. You will also see that those who understand make themselves naturally distinguishable from the rest. Later when a monk came to Ummon (Yun-men, died 949) and asked him about Gensha's sermon, Ummon was ready to demonstrate it in the following way, for he thoroughly understood Gensha. Said Ummon to the monk, "You make bows." When the monk rose from making bows, Ummon poked him with a staff, and the monk drew back. Said Ummon, "You are not blind then?" Ummon now told him to approach, and the monk approached. Said Ummon, "You are not deaf then?" Finally, he said, "Do you understand?" "No, master", being the reply, Ummon remarked, "You are not dumb then?" This made the monk grasp the point.

If this monk of Ummon's had any sort of understanding about Gensha, he would have kicked up the master's chair when he was told to make bows, and no more fussing would have been necessary. In the meantime let me ask you whether Ummon and Gensha both understood the problem in the same way, or not. I tell you that their understanding is directed to one point. That the ancient masters come out among us and make all kinds of contrivance is because they wish to see somebody bite their hook and be caught up. They thus make bitter remarks in order to have us see into the great event of this life. My own master Goso (Wu-tsu, died 1104) had this to say: "Here is one who can talk well but has no understanding; here is another who understands but is unable to talk about it. When these two present themselves before you, how will you distinguish the one from the other? If you cannot make this discrimination, you cannot expect to free people from their bondage and attachment. But when you can, I will see to it that, as soon as you enter my gate, I put on a pair of sandals and run through the inside of your body several times even before you realize. In case, however, you fail to have an insight in this matter, what is the use of hunting around for an old bowl? Better be gone!" Do you wish to know what is the ultimate meaning of these complications in regard to the blind, deaf, and dumb? Let us see what Seccho says about it.

Do you wish to know what is the ultimate meaning of these complications in regard to the blind, deaf, and dumb? Let us see what Seccho says about it. Seccho's Remarks in Verse Blind, deaf, dumb! [--Even before any word is uttered.--The three sense-organs are perfectly sound.--Already finished is one paragraph!] Infinitely beyond the reach of imaginative contrivances! [--Where do you wish to hunt for it?--Is there anything here which permits your calculations?--What relationship have they after all?] Above the heavens and below the heavens! [--Perfectly free is the working of Truth.--Thou hast said!] How ludicrous! How disheartening! [--What is it that is so ludicrous, so disheartening?--Partly bright and partly dark.] Li-lou does not know how to discriminate the right colour. [--Blind fellow!--A good craftsman leaves no trace.--Blind to the very core!] How can Shih-k'uang recognize the mysterious tune? [--Deaf in his ears!--There is no way to appreciate the greatest merit.--Deaf to the very core!] What life can compare with this?--Sitting alone quietly by the window, [--This is the way to go on.--Do not try to get your livelihood in a cave of ghosts.--Break up all at once this cask of coal tar!] I observe the leaves fall and the flowers bloom as the seasons come and go. [--What season do you think it is now?--Do not regard this as doing-nothingness.--Today, morning is followed by evening; tomorrow, morning is followed by evening.]

I observe the leaves fall and the flowers bloom as the seasons come and go. [--What season do you think it is now?--Do not regard this as doing-nothingness.--Today, morning is followed by evening; tomorrow, morning is followed by evening.] Seccho now remarked: "Do you understand, or not?" [--"Repeated in the gatha."I An iron bar without a hole! [--Coming up with your own confession!--Too bad that he was released too easily,--"Then he struck."] Yengo's Comment on Seccho "Blind, deaf, dumb! Infinitely beyond the reach of imaginative contrivances!" In this, Seccho has swept everything away for you what you see together with what you do not see, what you hear together with what you do not hear, and what you talk about together with what you cannot talk about. All these are completely brushed off, and you attain the life of the blind, deaf, and dumb. Here all your imaginations, contrivances' and calculations are once for all put an end to, they are no more made use of this is where lies the highest point of Zen, this is where we have true blindness, true deafness, and true dumbness, each in its artless and effectless aspect. "Above the heavens and below the heavens! How ludicrous! how disheartening!" Here Seccho lifts up with one hand and with the other puts down. Tell me what he finds to be ludicrous, what he finds to be disheartening. It is ludicrous that this dumb person is not after all dumb, that this deaf one is not after all deaf; it is disheartening that the one who is not at all blind is blind for all that, and that the one who is not at all deaf is deaf for all that.

Here Seccho lifts up with one hand and with the other puts down. Tell me what he finds to be ludicrous, what he finds to be disheartening. It is ludicrous that this dumb person is not after all dumb, that this deaf one is not after all deaf; it is disheartening that the one who is not at all blind is blind for all that, and that the one who is not at all deaf is deaf for all that. 'Li-lou does not know how to discriminate the right colour." When he is unable to discriminate between blue and yellow, red and white, he is certainly a blind man. He lived in the reign of the Emperor Huang. He is said to have been able to discern the point of a soft hair at a distance of one hundred steps. His eye-sight was extraordinary. When the Emperor Huang had a pleasure-trip to the River Chih, he dropped his precious jewel in the water and made Li fetch it up. But he failed. The Emperor made Ch'ih-kou search for it, but he also failed to locate it. Later Hsiang-wang was ordered to get it, and he got it. Hence: "When Hsiang-wang goes down, the precious gem shines most brilliantly; But where Li-lou walks about, the waves rise even to the sky." When we come up to these higher spheres, even the eyes of Li-lou are incapacitated to distinguish which is the right colour. "How can Shih-kuang recognize the mysterious tune?" Shih-kuang was son of Ching-kuang of Chin in the province of Chiang in the Chou dynasty. His other name was Tzu-yeh. He could thoroughly distinguish the five sounds and the six notes, he could even hear the ants fight on the other side of a hill. When Chin and Ch'u were at war, Shih-kuang could tell, by merely quietly playing on the strings of his lute, that the engagement would surely be unfavourable for Chu. In spite of his extraordinary sensitiveness, Seccho (Hsueh-t'ou) declares that he is unable to recognize the mysterious tune. After all, one who is not at all deaf is really deaf in his ears. The most exquisite note in the higher spheres is indeed beyond the ear of Shih-kuang. Says Seccho: "I am not going to be a Li-lou, nor to be a Shih-kuang, but

"What life can compare with this?--Sitting alone quietly by the window, I observe the leaves fall, the flowers bloom as the seasons come and go." When one attains this stage of realization, seeing is no-seeing, hearing is no-hearing, preaching is no-preaching. When hungry one eats, when tired one sleeps. Let the leaves fall, let the flowers bloom as they like. When the leaves fall, I know it is the autumn; when the flowers bloom, I know it is the spring. Each season has its own features. Having swept everything clean before you, Seccho now opens a passageway, saying: "Do you understand, or not?" He has done all he could for you, he is exhausted, only able to turn about and present to you this iron-bar without a hole. It is a most significant expression. Look and see with your own eyes! If you hesitate, you miss the mark for ever. Yengo (Yuan-wu, the author of this commentary note) now raised his hossu and said, "Do you see?" He then struck his chair and said, "Do you hear?" Coming down from the chair, he said, "Was anything talked about?" VIII THE TEN OXHERDING PICTURES Preliminary The author of these "Ten Oxherding Pictures" is said to be a Zen master of the Sung Dynasty known as Kaku-an Shi-en (Kuo-an Shih-yuan) belonging to the Rinzai school. He is also the author of the poems and introductory words attached to the pictures. He was not however the first who attempted to illustrate by means of pictures stages of Zen discipline, for in his general preface to the pictures he refers to another Zen master called Seikyo (Ching-chu), probably a contemporary of his, who made use of the ox to explain his Zen teaching. But in Seikyo's case the gradual development of the Zen life was indicated by a progressive whitening of the animal, ending in the disappearance of the whole being. There were in this only five pictures, instead of ten as by Kaku-an. Kaku-an thought this was somewhat misleading because of an empty circle being made the goal of Zen discipline. Some might take mere emptiness as all important and final. Hence his improvement resulting in the "Ten Oxherding Pictures" as we have them now.

According to a commentator of Kaku-an's Pictures, there is another series of the Oxherding Pictures by a Zen master called jitoku Ki (Tzu-te Hui), who apparently knew of the existence of the Five Pictures by Seikyo, for jitoku's are six in number. The last one, No. 6, goes beyond the stage of absolute emptiness where Seikyo's end: the poem reads: "Even beyond the ultimate limits there extends a passageway, Whereby he comes back among the six realms of existence; Every worldly affair is a Buddhist work, And wherever he goes he finds his home air; Like a gem he stands out even in the mud, Like pure gold he shines even in the furnace; Along the endless road [of birth and death] he walks sufficient unto himself, In whatever associations he is found he moves leisurely unattached." Jitoku's ox grows whiter as Seikyo's, and in this particular respect both differ from Kaku-an's conception. In the latter there is no whitening process. In Japan Kaku-an's Ten Pictures gained a wide circulation, and at present all the oxherding books reproduce them. The earliest one belongs I think to the fifteenth century. In China however a different edition seems to have been in vogue, one belonging to the Seikyo and Jitoku series of pictures. The author is not known. The edition containing the preface by Chu-hung, 1585, has ten pictures, each of which is preceded by Pu-ming's poem. As to who this Pu-ming was, Chu-hung himself professes ignorance. In these pictures the ox's colouring changes together with the oxherd's management of him. The quaint original Chinese prints are reproduced below, and also Pu-ming's verses translated into English.

Thus as far as I can identify there are four varieties of the Oxherding Pictures: (1) by Kaku-an, (2) by Seikyo, (3) by Jitoku, and (4) by an unknown author. Kaku-an's "Pictures" here reproduced are by Shubun, a Zen priest of the fifteenth century. The original pictures are preserved at Shokokuji, Kyoto. He was one of the greatest painters in black and white in the Ashikaga period. The Ten Oxherding Pictures, I. by Kaku-an I Searching for the Ox. The beast has never gone astray, and what is the use of searching for him? The reason why the oxherd is not on intimate terms with him is because the oxherd himself has violated his own inmost nature. The beast is lost, for the oxherd has himself been led out of the way through his deluding senses. His home is receding farther away from him, and byways and crossways are ever confused. Desire for gain and fear of loss burn like fire; ideas of right and wrong shoot up like a phalanx. Alone in the wilderness, lost in the jungle, the boy is searching, searching! The swelling waters, the far-away mountains, and the unending path; Exhausted and in despair, he knows not where to go, He only hears the evening cicadas singing in the maple-woods. II Seeing the Traces. By the aid of the sutras and by inquiring into the doctrines, he has come to understand something, he has found the traces. He now knows that vessels, however varied, are all of gold, and that the objective world is a reflection of the Self. Yet, he is unable to distinguish what is good from what is not, his mind is still confused as to truth and falsehood. As he has not yet entered the gate, he is provisionally said to have noticed the traces.

By the stream and under the trees, scattered are the traces of the lost; The sweet-scented grasses are growing thick--did he find the way? However remote over the hills and far away the beast may wander, His nose reaches the heavens and none can conceal it. III Seeing the Ox. The boy finds the way by the sound he hears; he sees thereby into the origin of things, and all his senses are in harmonious order. In all his activities, it is manifestly present. It is like the salt in water and the glue in colour. [It is there though not distinguishable as an individual entity.] When the eye is properly directed, he will find that it is no other than himself, On a yonder branch perches a nightingale cheerfully singing; The sun is warm, and a soothing breeze blows, on the bank the willows are green; The ox is there all by himself, nowhere is he to hide himself; The splendid head decorated with stately horns what painter can reproduce him? IV Catching the Ox. Long lost in the wilderness, the boy has at last found the ox and his hands are on him. But, owing to the overwhelming pressure of the outside world, the ox is hard to keep under control. He constantly longs for the old sweet-scented field. The wild nature is still unruly, and altogether refuses to be broken. If the oxherd wishes to see the ox completely in harmony with himself, he has surely to use the whip freely. With the energy of his whole being, the boy has at last taken hold of the ox:

With the energy of his whole being, the boy has at last taken hold of the ox: But how wild his will, how ungovernable his power! At times he struts up a plateau, When lo! he is lost again in a misty unpenetrable mountain-pass. V Herding the Ox. When a thought moves, another follows, and then another-an endless train of thoughts is thus awakened. Through enlightenment all this turns into truth; but falsehood asserts itself when confusion prevails. Things oppress us not because of an objective world, but because of a self-deceiving mind. Do not let the nose-string loose, hold it tight, and allow no vacillation. The boy is not to separate himself with his whip and tether, Lest the animal should wander away into a world of defilements; When the ox is properly tended to, he will grow pure and docile; Without a chain, nothing binding, he will by himself follow the oxherd. VI Coming Home on the Ox's Back. The struggle is over; the man is no more concerned with gain and loss. He hums a rustic tune of the woodman, he sings simple songs of the village-boy. Saddling himself on the ox's back, his eyes are fixed on things not of the earth, earthy. Even if he is called, he will not turn his head; however enticed he will no more be kept back. Riding on the animal, he leisurely wends his way home: Enveloped in the evening mist, how tunefully the flute vanishes away! Singing a ditty, beating time, his heart is filled with a joy indescribable!

Singing a ditty, beating time, his heart is filled with a joy indescribable! That he is now one of those who know, need it be told? VII The Ox Forgotten, Leaving the Man Alone. The dharmas are one and the ox is symbolic. When you know that what you need is not the snare or set-net but the hare or fish, it is like gold separated from the dross, it is like the moon rising out of the clouds. The one ray of light serene and penetrating shines even before days of creation. Riding on the animal, he is at last back in his home, Where lo! the ox is no more; the man alone sits serenely. Though the red sun is high up in the sky, he is still quietly dreaming, Under a straw-thatched roof are his whip and rope idly lying. VIII The Ox and the Man Both Gone out of Sight.[1] All confusion is set aside, and serenity alone prevails; even the idea of holiness does not obtain. He does not linger about where the Buddha is, and as to where there is no Buddha he speedily passes by. When there exists no form of dualism, even a thousand-eyed one fails to detect a loop-hole. A holiness before which birds offer flowers is but a farce. All is empty-the whip, the rope, the man, and the ox: Who can ever survey the vastness of heaven? Over the furnace burning ablaze, not a flake of snow can fall: When this state of things obtains, manifest is the spirit of the ancient master. IX Returning to the Origin, Back to the Source. From the very beginning, pure and immaculate, the man has never been affected by defilement. He watches the growth of things, while himself abiding in the immovable serenity of nonassertion. He does not identify himself with the maya-like transformations [that are going on about him], nor has he any use of himself [which is artificiality]. The waters are blue, the mountains are green; sitting alone, he observes things undergoing changes.

[1. It will be interesting to note what a mystic philosopher has to say about this: "A man shall become truly poor and as free from his creature will as he was when he was born. And I say to you, by the eternal truth, that as long as ye desire to fulfil the will of God, and have any desire after eternity and God; so long are ye not truly poor. He alone hath true spiritual poverty who wills nothing, knows nothing, desires nothing. "--(From Eckhart as quoted by Inge in Light, Life, and Love.)] To return to the Origin, to be back at the Source--already a false step this! Far better it is to stay at home, blind and deaf, and without much ado; Sitting in the hut, he takes no cognisance of things outside, Behold the streams flowing-whither nobody knows; and the flowers vividly red-for whom are they? X Entering the City with Bliss-bestowing Hands. His thatched cottage gate is closed, and even the wisest know him not. No glimpses of his inner life are to be caught; for he goes on his own way without following the steps of the ancient sages. Carrying a gourd[1] he goes out into the market, leaning against a staff[2] he comes home. He is found in company with wine-bibbers and butchers, he and they are all converted into Buddhas. Bare-chested and bare-footed, he comes out into the market-place; Daubed with mud and ashes, how broadly he smiles! There is no need for the miraculous power of the gods,

There is no need for the miraculous power of the gods, For he touches, and lo! the dead trees are in full bloom. [1. Symbol of emptiness (sunyata). 2. No extra property he has, for he knows that the desire to possess is the curse of human life.] The Ten Oxherding Pictures, II. 1. Undisciplined With his horns fiercely projected in the air the beast snorts, Madly running over the mountain paths, farther and farther he goes astray! A dark cloud is spread across the entrance of the valley, And who knows how much of the fine fresh herb is trampled under his wild hoofs! 2. Discipline Begun I am in possession of a straw rope, and I pass it through his nose, For once he makes a frantic attempt to run away, but he is severely whipped and whipped; The beast resists the training with all the power there is in a nature wild and ungoverned, But the rustic oxherd never relaxes his pulling tether and ever-ready whip. 3. In Harness Gradually getting into harness the beast is now content to be led by the nose, Crossing the stream, walking along the mountain path, he follows every step of the leader; The leader holds the rope tightly in his hand never letting it go, All day long he is on the alert almost unconscious of what fatigue is. 4. Faced Round After long days of training the result begins to tell and the beast is faced round, A nature so wild and ungoverned is finally broken, he has become gentler;

A nature so wild and ungoverned is finally broken, he has become gentler; But the tender has not yet given him his full confidence, He still keeps his straw rope with which the ox is now tied to a tree. 5. Tamed Under the green willow tree and by the ancient mountain stream, The ox is set at liberty to pursue his own pleasures; At the eventide when a grey mist descends on the pasture, The boy wends his homeward way with the animal quietly following. 6. Unimpeded On the verdant field the beast contentedly lies idling his time away, No whip is needed now, nor any kind of restraint; The boy too sits leisurely under the pine tree, Playing a tune of peace, overflowing with joy. 7. Laissez Faire The spring stream in the evening sun flows languidly along the willow-lined bank, In the hazy atmosphere the meadow grass is seen growing thick; When hungry he grazes, when thirsty he quaffs, as time sweetly slides, While the boy on the rock dozes for hours not noticing anything that goes on about him. 8. All Forgotten The beast all in white now is surrounded by the white clouds, The man is perfectly at his case and care-free, so is his companion; The white clouds penetrated by the moon-light cast their white shadows below, The white clouds and the bright moon-light-each following its course of movement. 9. The Solitary Moon Nowhere is the beast, and the oxherd is master of his time, He is a solitary cloud wafting lightly along the mountain peaks;

Clapping his hands he sings joyfully in the moon-light, But remember a last wall is still left barring his homeward walk. 10. Both Vanished Both the man and the animal have disappeared, no traces are left, The bright moon-light is empty and shadowless with all the ten-thousand objects in it; If anyone should ask the meaning of this, Behold the lilies of the field and its fresh sweet-scented verdure.