Chán Zhōng Shuō Chán: Entanglement Is Not Entanglement, Zen Is Not Zen — A Dead Tree's Dragon Song Illuminates the Great Thousand Worlds (II)
2006/2/1 14:41:47
Since the time of Yunmen and Fayan, Chan Buddhism flourished greatly and then declined, until today only those who count sand, tally treasures, and lap up others' spittle remain. Zen is without past or present, is both past and present — what has it to do with old man Shakyamuni or old fellow Bodhidharma? The likes of Huineng — even as Yunmen said, "Strike them dead and feed them to the dogs" — what harm is done to Zen? What harm to Huineng? The Five Houses and Seven Schools, though they may envelop heaven and cover the earth, shining gloriously through a thousand ages — what is added to Zen? What is added to the Five Houses and Seven Schools?
There is a type of spittle-lapping fellow who takes "not establishing words, a separate transmission outside the teachings, directly pointing to the human mind, seeing one's nature and becoming Buddha" as the guiding principle of Chan. Yet there is no mind to point to — what can be pointed to is not mind; there is no Buddha to become — what can be become is not Buddha. How then can one recklessly speak of "directly pointing to the human mind, seeing one's nature and becoming Buddha"? How can one arbitrarily generate distinctions between the school beyond the teachings and the teachings themselves? The Chan school's canonical texts within the Tripitaka are already quite numerous — how can one recklessly claim "not establishing words, a separate transmission outside the teachings"? Sameness and difference — these are the delusory distinctions of fools. Not only is there no difference between the school beyond the teachings and the teachings; the Three Teachings and Nine Schools, gods, demons, and ghosts, orthodoxy and heresy, heaven and hell, right and wrong, good and evil — with regard to Zen, what difference is there? What sameness?
If anyone claims that Zen has a lineage of transmission, they are speaking nonsense. If Mahakashyapa gained something from Shakyamuni's holding up a flower, if Bodhidharma transmitted something when Huike severed his arm, then Shakyamuni, Mahakashyapa, Bodhidharma, and Huike would all be blind mice. Zen has no transmission, no attainment — what then is transmitted or attained? But if one rigidly insists that "Zen has no transmission, no attainment," then one is spinning a cocoon to trap oneself — laughable and pitiable!
A verse:
A floating world of clumsy schemes, calculations always miss their mark.
Looking up, looking down — truth is also false; rising, sinking — right is also wrong.
Truth and falsehood have little meaning; right and wrong are ever in violation.
Riding a crane to Yangzhou, chasing a deer toward the capital.
The crane soars — both wings snap; the deer dies — how many return?
Spring returns — willows turn green; winter solstice — rain and snow fly thick.
Jade waters cross the mountains and go; a white horse races past the gap.
Whose heart observes the sun and moon? Whose ears hear the mockery?
All affairs are merely phantoms — crane and deer cannot be wished for.
I climb that stone on the southern mountain — how towering is the southern mountain!
Winding through forest, hill, and brush; paths through fields where wheat grows rich.
Craggy peaks hide strange beasts; rolling slopes are paced by golden pheasants.
High cliffs cast cool shadows; secluded ravines are filled with white angelica.
The sky collapses — sudden rain pours down; startled clouds scatter the fading light.
A gale snaps the great coiled trees; rushing floods breach the rocky dike.
Coiling dragons dance with golden claws; wild stallions shed their jade ornaments.
Mountains shaved of a thousand feet of earth; seas draining through ten thousand rings of siege.
Where mountain and sea exhaust their traces, the moon is bright, the stars not yet thin.
Flowing light conjures five colors; sword qi brushes rainbow robes.
Among the clouds, soft and lush trees; at the ravine's bottom, verdant fragrant herbs.
Heaven and earth are tucked within the sleeve; sun and moon are minute within the dust.
Driving horses to hunt the autumn plains, dangling a rod to fish the summer shoals.
Now and then like mayflies perishing, sometimes born with the dragon-tiger's might.
Vast and boundless, neither clear nor murky, serene and at ease, the qin's melody continues.
Replies
缠中说禅 2011/4/10 23:47:08
Not fulfilling it — so what? Days when the moon shines in daytime are good days. What a pity for these fools.
缠中说禅 2009/4/19 22:05:54
Borrowing this precious space to fulfill Classmate Jiang's wish to treat this ID to a meal. What a transgression, what a transgression!