---
title: "景德傳燈錄 · 韶州雲門山文偃禪師"
description: "景德传灯录由宋代高僧道原编纂，成书于景德年间（1004-1007年），是中国佛教禅宗重要史传类典籍。全书共三十卷，收录自释迦牟尼至五代末年的禅宗祖师1701人，以法脉传承为脉络，记录历代禅师的机缘语录、公案典故。作为现存最早的传灯体著作，该书系统记载了禅宗五家七宗的传承体系，保存了大量珍贵史料，对研究中国禅宗发展史具有不可替代的价值。景德传灯录与五灯会元并称为禅宗两大灯录，被后世奉为禅门经典，不仅影响了宋明理学的发展，更成为东亚禅佛教传播的重要文献依据。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmaarc2l601c9jy04rrzw110u"
---

韶州雲門山文偃禪師。姑蘇嘉興人也。姓張氏。初參睦州陳尊宿發明大旨。後造雪峯而益資玄要。因藏器混眾。于韶州靈樹敏禪師法席居第一座。敏將滅度遺書於廣主。請接踵住持。師不忘本以雪峯為師。開堂日廣主親臨曰。弟子請益。師曰。目前無異路法眼別云。不可無益於人師云。莫道今日謾諸人好抑不得。已向諸人道遮裏作一場狼藉。忽遇明眼人見謂之一場笑具。如今亦不能避得也。且問爾諸人。從上來有什麼事。欠少什麼。向爾道無事亦是謾爾也。須到遮田地始得。亦莫趁口頭亂問。自己心裏黑漫漫地。明朝後日大有事在。爾若是根性遲迴。且向古人建化門庭東覻西覻看。是箇什麼道理。汝欲得會麼。都緣是汝自家無量劫來妄想濃厚。一期聞人說著便生疑心。問佛問祖。向上向下求覓解會。轉沒交涉。擬心即差。況復有言。莫是不擬心麼。更有什麼事。珍重。師上堂云。我事不獲已。向爾諸人道直下無事。早是相埋沒了也。爾諸人更擬進步。向前尋言逐句求覓解會。千差萬巧廣設問難。只是贏得一場口滑。去道轉遠有什麼休歇時。此箇事若在言語上。三乘十二分教豈是無言語。因什麼更道教外別傳。若從學解機智得。只如十地聖人說法如雲如雨。猶被呵責。見性如隔羅縠。以此故知。一切有心天地懸殊。雖然如此若是得底人。道火不可燒。口終日說事不曾掛著脣齒。未曾道著一字。終日著衣喫飯。未嘗觸一粒米掛一縷線。雖然如此猶是門庭之說也。須實得恁麼始得。若約衲僧門下。句裏呈機徒勞佇思。直饒一句下承當得。猶是瞌睡漢。師云。三乘十二分教橫說竪說。天下老和尚縱橫十字說。與我捻針鋒許說底道理來看。恁麼道死馬醫。雖然如此且有幾箇到此境界。不敢望汝言中有響句裏藏鋒。瞬目千差風恬浪靜。伏惟尚饗珍重。師上堂云。諸兄弟。盡是諸方參尋知識決擇生死。到處豈無尊宿垂慈方便之詞。還有透不得底句麼。出來舉看。老漢大家共爾商量。時有僧出來禮拜擬舉次師云。去去西天路迢迢十萬餘。問學人簇簇地商量箇什麼。云。大眾久立。師云。舉一則語。教汝直下承當。早是撒尿著汝頭上。直饒捻一毫頭。盡大地一時明得。也是剜肉作瘡。雖然如此汝亦須實到遮箇田地始得。若未切不得掠。虛却須退步向自己根脚下推尋看。是箇甚麼道理。實無絲髮與汝作解會與汝作疑惑。汝等各各且當人一段事大用現前。更不煩汝一毫頭氣力。便與祖佛無別。自是諸人信根淺薄惡業濃厚。突然起得許多頭角。擔鉢囊千鄉萬里受屈。且汝諸人有什麼不足處。大丈夫漢阿誰無分。觸目承當得猶是不著便。不可受人欺謾取人處分。才見老和尚動口。便好把特石驀口塞。便是屎上青蠅相似鬪競接將去。三箇五箇聚頭地商量。苦屈。兄弟。他古德一期為爾諸人不奈何。所以方便垂一言半句通汝入路。遮般事拈放一邊。獨自著些子筋骨。豈不是有少許相親處。快與快與。時不待人出息不保入息。更有什麼身心別處閑用。切須在意在意珍重。師云。盡乾坤把一時將來著汝眼睫上。爾諸人聞恁麼道。不敢望爾出來性𭟡把老漢打一摑。且緩緩子細看。是有是無。是箇什麼道理。直饒向遮裏明得。若遇衲僧門下好搥折兩脚。汝若是箇人。聞說道什麼處有老宿出世。便好驀面唾污我耳目。汝若不是箇脚手。才聞人舉便當荷得早落第二機也。汝且看。他德山和尚才見僧上來拽拄杖便打趁。睦州和尚才見入門來。便云。且放汝三十棒。或時云見成公案自餘之輩合作麼生。若是一般掠虛漢。食人涎唾記得一堆。一擔骨董到處逞。驢脣馬嘴誇我解問十轉五轉話。饒爾從朝問到夜論劫。恁麼還曾夢見也未。什麼處是與人著力處。似遮般底。有人屈衲僧齋。也道我得飯喫。堪什麼共語。他日閻羅王面前不取爾口解說。諸兄弟。若是得底人他家依眾遣日。若也未得切莫容易。過時。大須子細。古人大有葛藤相為處。即如雪峯和尚道。盡大地是汝。夾山云。百草頭識取老僧。市門頭認取天子。樂普云。一塵才舉大地全收。一毛師子全身。總是汝把取翻覆思量日久歲深。自然有箇入路。此事無爾替代處。莫非各在當人分上。老和尚出世只是為爾證明。汝若有少許來由。且昧爾亦不得。爾若實未得方便撥汝。則不可兄弟一等是蹋破草鞋。拋却師僧父母行脚。直須著些子精彩始得實。若有箇入頭處遇著一個咬猪狗脚手。不惜性命入泥入水相為。有可咬嚼。劄上眉毛高掛鉢囊。拗折拄杖。十年二十年擬取徹頭。莫愁不成辦。直是今生未得徹頭。來生亦不失人身。向此箇門中亦乃省力。不虛孤負平生。亦不孤負師僧父母十方施主。直須在意。莫空遊州獵縣橫擔柱杖一千二千里走趁。遮邊經冬那邊過夏。好山水堪取性。多齋供易得衣鉢。苦屈圖他一粒米。失却半年糧。如此行脚有什麼利益。信心檀越把菜粒米作麼生消得。直須自看。時不待人。忽然一日眼光落地到來前頭將什麼抵擬。莫一似落湯螃蟹手脚忙亂。無爾掠虛說大話處。莫將等閑空過時光。一失人身萬劫不復。不是小事。莫據目前。古人尚道朝聞道夕死可矣。況我沙門。日夕合履踐箇什麼事。大須努力。努力珍重。師云。汝等沒可恁麼了見人道著祖意。便問箇超佛越祖之談。汝且喚那箇為佛那箇為祖。且說箇超佛越祖底道理。問箇出三界。爾把將三界來看。有什麼見聞覺知隔礙著爾有什麼聲色可與爾了了什麼椀。以阿那箇為差殊之見。他古聖不奈何。橫身為物道箇舉體全真物物覿體不可得。我向爾道。直下有什麼事。早是相埋沒了也。爾若實未有入頭處。且中私獨自參詳。除却著衣喫飯屙屎送尿。更有什麼事。無端起得許多妄想作什麼。更有一般底。恰似等閑相似。聚頭學得箇古人話路。識性記持妄想卜度。道我會佛法了也。只管說葛藤取性過時。更嫌不稱意。千鄉萬里拋却老爺孃師僧和尚。作遮去就遮般打約野禿有什麼死急行脚去。師上堂云。故知時運澆漓迨于像季。近日師僧北去禮文殊。南去遊衡嶽。若恁麼行脚名字比丘徒消信施。苦哉苦哉。問著黑似漆相似。只管取性過時。設使有三箇兩箇。枉學多聞記持話路。到處覓相似言語印可老宿。輕忽上流作薄福德業。他日閻羅王釘爾之時。莫道無人向爾說。若是初心後學。直須著精神莫空記人說。情多虛不如少實。向後只是自賺。有什麼事近前。師上堂大眾雲集。師以拄杖指面前云。乾坤大地微塵諸佛總在裏許。爭佛法各覓勝負。還有人諫得麼。若無人諫得。待老漢與爾諫。時有僧出云。便請和尚諫。師云。遮野狐精。師云。汝諸人傍家行脚。皆是河南海北各各盡有生緣。所在還自知得麼。試出來舉看。老漢與汝證明。有麼有麼出來。汝若不知老漢謾爾去也。汝欲得知若生緣在北。北有趙州和尚。五臺山有文殊。總在遮裏。若生緣在南。南有雪峯臥龍西堂鼓山。總在遮裏。汝欲得識麼。欲得識向遮裏識取。若不見亦莫掠虛。見麼見麼。且看老僧騎佛殿出去也。珍重。師上堂云。天親菩薩無端變作一條楖𣗖木杖。乃畫地一下云。塵沙諸佛盡向遮裏葛藤。便下堂。師云。我看爾諸人二三機中不能覯得。空披衲衣何益。汝還會麼。與汝注破。久後諸方若見老宿舉一指竪一拂子云是禪是道。拽拄杖打破頭便行。若不如此。盡是天魔眷屬壞滅吾宗。汝若不會。且向葛藤社裏看。我尋常向汝道。微塵剎土三世諸佛。西天二十八祖唐土六祖。盡在拄杖頭上說法。神通變現聲應十方。一任縱橫。爾還會麼。若不會且莫掠虛。然雖據實實是諦見也未。直饒到此田地。未曾夢見衲僧。沙彌在三家村裏不逢一人。師驀起以拄杖劃地一下云。總在遮裏。又劃一下云。總從遮裏出去也珍重。師上堂云。和尚子。衲僧直須明取衲僧鼻孔。且作麼生是衲僧鼻孔。眾皆無對。師云。摩訶般若波羅蜜大普請下去。師上堂云。諸和尚子。饒爾道有什麼事。猶是頭上著頭。雪上加霜。棺木裏瞠眼。炙瘡瘢上著艾燋。遮箇一場狼藉不是小事。爾合作麼生各自覓取箇托生處。好莫空遊州獵縣。只欲捉搦閑話。待老和尚口動。便問禪問道向上向下如何若何。大卷抄了塞在皮袋裏卜度。到處火鑪邊三箇五箇聚頭。口喃喃舉更道。遮箇是公才語。遮箇是從裏道出語。遮箇是就事上道底語。遮箇是體語體。爾屋裏老爺老孃。噇却飯了只管說夢便道我會佛法了也。將知爾行脚驢年得箇休歇麼。更有一般底。才聞人說箇休歇處。便向陰界裏閉眉合眼。老鼠孔裏作活計。黑山下坐鬼趣裏。體當便道得箇入頭路。夢見麼。似遮般底殺一萬箇。有什麼罪過。喚作打底。不遇作家。至竟只是箇掠虛漢。爾若實有箇見處。試捻來看共爾商量。莫空不識好惡矻矻地聚頭說閑葛藤。莫教老漢見捉來勘不相當搥折脚。莫道不道。爾還皮下有血麼。以拄杖一時趁下。問如何是佛法大意。師曰。春來草自青。師問新羅僧。將什麼物過海。曰草賊敗也。師引手曰。汝為什麼在我遮裏。曰恰是。師曰。更𨁝跳。問牛頭未見四祖時如何。師曰。家家觀世音。曰見後如何。師曰。火裏蟭蟉吞大蟲。問如何是雲門一句。師曰。獵月二十五。問如何是雪嶺泥牛吼。師曰。天地黑。曰如何是雲門木馬嘶。師曰。山河走。問從上來事請師提綱師曰。朝看東南暮看西北。曰便恁麼領會時如何。師曰。東屋裏點燈西屋裏暗坐。問十二時中如何即得不空過。師曰。向什麼處著此一問。曰學人不會請師舉。師曰。將筆硯來。僧乃取筆硯來。師作一頌曰。

> Master Wenyun of Yunmen Mountain in Shaozhou was a native of Jiaxing in Gusu, born into the Zhang family. He first studied under Elder Chen of Muzhou, where he awakened to the great principle. Later he went to Xuefeng and further deepened his understanding of the profound teachings. He kept his abilities hidden among the assembly and served as the head monk at Ling Shu's meditation community in Shaozhou. When Ling Shu was about to pass away, he left a letter for the regional governor requesting that Wenyun succeed him as abbot. Master Wenyun, never forgetting his roots, regarded Xuefeng as his teacher. On the day of his inaugural sermon, the regional governor personally attended and said, "Your disciple seeks instruction." The Master said, "Before your eyes there is no separate path." \*A note: Fayan commented, "One cannot say this is of no benefit to people."\* The Master continued, "Don't say I'm deceiving you all today. I really shouldn't be making such a mess here. If a person with clear vision saw this, they'd call it a comic show. But now I can't avoid it. Let me ask you all—from the beginning, what has there been? What are you lacking? Even telling you 'there's nothing' is still deceiving you. You must reach that ground to truly understand. And don't just rattle off random questions while your own minds remain in darkness. Tomorrow and the day after, there will be plenty of matters to deal with. If your faculties are slow, then go study the gateways and teaching styles of the ancients—look east and west. What principle is this? Do you want to understand? It's entirely because for countless eons your deluded thoughts have been deeply entrenched. The moment you hear someone speak of it, doubt arises. You ask about Buddhas and patriarchs, seeking explanations from above and below—the more you search, the further you drift. To form even a single thought is already a mistake, let alone to speak of it. Is it 'not forming thoughts' then? What more is there? Take care." The Master addressed the assembly: "I have no choice but to tell you all—that things are fundamentally uneventful is already burying the truth. Yet you still try to advance, chasing words and phrases, seeking intellectual understanding with a thousand clever devices and endless questions. You only win yourself a glib tongue. The further you go from the Path, when will there ever be rest? If this matter were in words, wouldn't the Three Vehicles and Twelve Divisions of teachings be words enough? Why then speak of a separate transmission outside the teachings? If it could be attained through intellectual understanding or cleverness, then the sages of the Tenth Ground, whose teachings flowed like clouds and rain, would not have been criticized—their seeing of true nature was still like peering through silk gauze. From this you should know: anyone with a thinking mind is as far from it as heaven from earth. Nevertheless, for one who has truly attained, though you call fire unburnable, they may speak all day and never touch a word with their lips—never uttering a single syllable. They may wear clothes and eat meals all day, yet never touch a single grain of rice or a single thread. Even so, this is still talk from the gateway. You must actually arrive there yourself. In the school of patch-robed monks, displaying your sharpness in a phrase is futile—waiting and thinking is wasted effort. Even if you could grasp it in a single phrase, you'd still be a sleepyhead." The Master said: "The Three Vehicles and Twelve Divisions of teachings speak horizontally and vertically. All the old masters under heaven speak in every direction—crosswise, lengthwise. Bring me the principle they speak of, even as small as the point of a needle. Speaking thus is like trying to cure a dead horse. Yet even so, how many have reached this state? I don't dare hope for echoes in your words or hidden daggers in your phrases. Blink once and a thousand differences appear; the wind calms and waves subside. I pay my respects. Take care." The Master addressed the assembly: "You brothers have all traveled to various places seeking wise teachers to settle the matter of birth and death. Everywhere you go, haven't there been venerable elders offering compassionate words of skillful means? Is there any phrase you cannot penetrate? Come out and share it—this old man will discuss it with you all." At that point a monk came forward, bowed, and started to speak. The Master said, "Go, go—the road to the Western Heaven is a long ten thousand miles." A monk asked, "The assembly huddles together—what are we discussing?" The Master said, "The assembly has been standing long." "Offer one saying," the monk continued, "and let us grasp it directly. That would already be like pissing on your own head. Even if you held up a single hair and the whole earth was illumined at once, that would still be cutting flesh to make a wound. Even so, you must truly arrive at that ground. If you haven't, by no means grasp at emptiness. Rather, step back and investigate at the very root of your own being. What principle is this? Truly there is not a hair's breadth of anything to give you understanding or to confuse you. Each of you has your own matter—the great function manifest right before you, requiring not a hair's worth of effort. You are already no different from the Buddhas and patriarchs. It's simply that your roots of faith are shallow and your evil karma is thick. Suddenly you raise so many horns of contention, shouldering your alms bowls, suffering oppression across a thousand villages and ten thousand miles. What do you lack? Which of you great men has no share in it? If you could grasp it at the sight of your eyes, that would still not be the easy way. You shouldn't be fooled by others or accept their arrangements. The moment you see the old master move his mouth, you should stuff a rock in it! But instead you act like bluebottles on shit—fighting and buzzing, gathering in little groups to chatter. How bitter, how wrong, brothers! The ancient worthies, unable to do anything for you, used skillful means to drop a word or half a phrase to open your entrance. Set such things aside—apply a bit of your own backbone! Wouldn't that bring you somewhat closer? Quick, quick! Time waits for no one. Your out-breath doesn't guarantee your in-breath. Why spend body and mind elsewhere in idle pursuits? Pay close attention, pay close attention. Take care." The Master said: "The entire universe—gather it all up and place it on your eyelashes. When you hear me speak thus, I don't dare hope you'll come forward and—being bold—slap this old man across the face. But at least look slowly and carefully: Is it there or not? What principle is this? Even if you understood it right here, under the school of patch-robed monks you'd still deserve both legs broken. If you're truly someone, when you hear that some old master has appeared in the world, you should spit in his face—'You defile my eyes and ears!' If you're not of that caliber, the moment you hear someone raise it and think you can carry it, you've already fallen to the second rank. Consider Master Deshan—whenever a monk came up, he'd grab his staff and drive him out beating. Master Muzhou—the moment someone entered the gate, he'd say, 'I'll spare you thirty blows.' Or sometimes he'd say, 'A ready-made case.' As for the rest of you, what would you do? If you're the type who snatches up others' drool and spittle, memorizing a heap of stale phrases, hauling around a bag of old junk, showing off everywhere with donkey lips and horse mouths, bragging 'I can ask ten or fifty turns of questions'—even if you questioned from dawn to dusk for an eon, have you ever even dreamed of it? Where is the place this actually helps anyone? For such people, if someone invites patch-robed monks to a meal, you'd say 'I get fed too'—but who could bear to converse with you? When the day comes and King Yama faces you, he won't accept your clever explanations. Brothers, if you have truly attained, then live among the assembly and pass your days. If you haven't yet, by no means take this lightly or let the time pass idly. Be extremely careful. The ancients left much trailing vine to support you. For instance, Master Xuefeng said, 'The whole earth is you.' Jianshan said, 'Recognize the old monk at the tip of a blade of grass; recognize the Son of Heaven at the city gate.' Lepu said, 'A single dust mote arises and the whole earth is contained; a single hair's lion is the entire body.' All of this is you. Take it up, turn it over, ponder it—as days lengthen into years, naturally an entrance will appear. This matter has no substitute for you. It rests entirely with each person. An old master appears in the world only to bear witness for you. If you have even a trace of genuine ground, no one can obscure it from you. If you truly haven't attained and need skillful means to point you along, that is permissible. Brothers, all of you alike have worn out your straw sandals, abandoned your teachers and parents to wander. You must summon real spirit to attain it truly. If you find an entrance and encounter one of those who bite into pigs and dogs—who, not cherishing life, enter mud and water to help others—and there's something to chew on, then raise your eyebrows, hang up your alms bowl, snap your staff in two, and for ten or twenty years determine to see it through to the end. Don't worry you won't succeed. Even if you don't see it through in this life, in the next life you won't lose your human body. In this school, too, it's an effortless path. You won't have lived in vain, nor will you have failed your teachers, parents, or benefactors of the ten directions. Pay close attention. Don't wander idly through prefectures and counties, shouldering your staff across twelve hundred miles, wintering here, summering there. 'Such nice mountains and waters to enjoy! So much free food! Easy robes and bowls!' How bitter and wrong—scheming for a single grain of rice while losing half a year's provisions! What benefit is there in such wandering? Supporters with faith offer vegetables and rice—how will you digest it all? You must look into yourselves. Time waits for no one. When suddenly one day your eyes lose their light and you stand before what comes next, what will you have to oppose it with? Don't be like a crab thrown in boiling water, claws scrambling in panic. There's no place for your emptiness-grasping and big talk then. Don't idly waste the time. Once you lose a human body, ten thousand eons won't bring it back. This is no small matter. Don't cling to what's before your eyes. The ancients even said, 'Hearing the Way in the morning, one may die content in the evening.' How much more so we who are monastics—what should we be practicing day and night? Strive hard, strive hard. Take care." The Master said: "When you people hear others speak of the patriarchs' intent, you can't just ask about 'transcending Buddha and surpassing patriarchs.' First tell me: which one do you call Buddha, which one do you call patriarch? Explain this principle of 'transcending Buddha and patriarchs.' You ask about 'leaving the three realms'—bring me the three realms and show me. What knowledge or sensation obstructs you? What sights or sounds confuse you? What distinction do you make between one thing and another? The ancient sages, helpless before you, exerted themselves for living beings and spoke of 'the whole body complete and real, each thing seen directly.' But you can't grasp it. I tell you: what is there right before you? Already I'm burying the truth. If you truly haven't found an entrance, then privately contemplate it alone. Apart from dressing, eating, shitting, and pissing, what else is there? Why stir up so many deluded thoughts without cause? There's another type who act as if it's all casual—they gather in groups, memorize some old masters' phrases, rely on memory and discriminative thinking, and declare 'I understand the Buddhadharma!' They just chatter on about trailing vines to pass the time, and even complain it's not satisfying. Across a thousand villages and ten thousand miles they abandon their parents, teachers, and masters—for what? Such bald-headed wild foxes—what's their desperate hurry to wander?" The Master addressed the assembly: "Thus we know the times have grown corrupt, reaching the decadent age. Lately monks go north to worship Manjushri, or south to roam Mount Heng. If this is how you wander, nominal monks, you only consume the offerings of the faithful in vain. How bitter, how bitter! Ask them a question and they're black as lacquer. They just pass the time as they please. Even if there are two or three who've wasted effort studying, memorizing phrases, seeking out old masters who'll validate their clever talk with similar words, looking down on true practitioners—such acts create thin blessings and heavy karma. When King Yama nails you, don't say no one told you. If you're a beginning student, summon your spirit. Don't just memorize others' words. A pile of empty cleverness is worse than a little genuine substance. In the end, you'll only cheat yourselves. What matter brings you forward?" The Master entered the hall. When the assembly had gathered like clouds, the Master pointed with his staff and said: "The entire universe, the Buddhas numerous as motes of dust—all are within here, contending over the Dharma, each seeking victory. Is there anyone who can counsel them otherwise? If no one can, let this old man counsel them for you." A monk then came forward and said, "Please, Master, counsel them." The Master said, "You wild fox spirit!" The Master said: "You people wander from temple to temple. Each of you has a native place somewhere north or south of the rivers. Do you even know where it is? Try coming out and telling me—this old man will bear witness for you. Is there? Is there? Come out! If you don't know, then this old man is deceiving you. Do you want to know? If your native place is in the north, there's Master Zhaozhou and Manjushri on Mount Wutai—all right here. If your native place is in the south, there's Xuefeng, Wolong, Xitang, Gushan—all right here. Do you want to recognize them? Recognize them right here. If you don't see, then don't grasp at emptiness. Do you see? Do you see? Watch this old monk ride the Buddhas out of the hall!" Then he said, "Take care." The Master entered the hall and said: "The Bodhisattva Vasubandhu, for no reason, transformed into a single wooden staff." Then he drew a line on the ground and said, "Buddhas numerous as dust and sand—all spread their trailing vines from right here." Then he left the hall. The Master said: "I see that you people, within two or three moments of opportunity, cannot perceive it. Wearing patch-robed robes emptily—what benefit is that? Do you understand? Let me crack it open for you. In the future, if you see old masters in various quarters raise a finger or hold up a whisk and say 'This is Zen, this is the Path,' grab your staff and smash their heads, then walk away. If you don't do this, you're all kin of Mara, destroying our tradition. If you don't understand, then go look among the trailing vines. I always tell you: the dust-mote worlds, the Buddhas of the three times, the twenty-eight patriarchs of the Western Heaven, the six patriarchs of the Tang—all of them expound the Dharma on the tip of this staff. Their spiritual powers transform and manifest, their voices resounding throughout the ten directions, free to come and go as they please. Do you understand? If not, then don't grasp at emptiness. But even if you speak of reality, have you truly seen it? Even reaching that ground, you still haven't dreamed of what a patch-robed monk is. A novice in a three-family village, encountering no one at all—" He suddenly rose, drew a line on the ground with his staff and said, "All within here." Then he drew another line and said, "All go out from here." Then: "Take care." The Master entered the hall and said: "Monks! A patch-robed monk must clearly perceive the nostrils of a patch-robed monk. But what are the nostrils of a patch-robed monk?" The assembly was all silent. The Master said, "Maha Prajna Paramita! All go down to labor!" Then he dismissed them. The Master entered the hall and said: "Monks! Even if you say 'What is there to do?' that's already putting a head on a head, frost on snow, glaring eyes inside a coffin, moxa burned on an old scar—a great mess, no small matter. What will you do? Each of you go find yourself a place to be reborn! Don't wander idly through prefectures and counties just to grab hold of idle talk, waiting for the old master's mouth to move so you can ask about Zen and the Dharma, above and below, 'What is this, what is that?' You copy volumes of words, stuff them in your bags, and chew on them with your intellect. Everywhere you go, by the fire, three or five of you huddle together, mumbling and saying: 'This phrase comes from such-and-such a master. This one came from inside the tradition. This one speaks from the standpoint of phenomena. This is the essential phrase...' You've stuffed your faces at home and now just talk about dreams, saying 'I understand the Buddhadharma!' Do you think wandering like this will ever bring you rest—even in the year of the donkey? There's another kind—the moment they hear someone speak of a place of rest, they close their brows and eyes within the realms of consciousness, making their living in mouse holes, sitting in black mountains, dwelling in ghost realms, thinking 'I've found my entrance.' Have you dreamed of it? Kill ten thousand of this sort and what crime would it be? They're what's called 'bottom-rank'—never having met a true master, in the end nothing but emptiness-grasping fellows. If you truly have some insight, bring it out and we'll examine it together. Don't, not knowing good from bad, huddle pointlessly chattering about idle vines. Don't let this old man catch you—if I interrogate you and you don't measure up, I'll break your legs. Don't say I didn't warn you. Do you still have blood under your skins?" He drove them all out with his staff. A monk asked, "What is the great meaning of the Buddhadharma?" The Master said, "When spring comes, the grass grows by itself." The Master asked a monk from Silla, "What did you bring to cross the sea?" The monk said, "The grass bandit is defeated!" The Master extended his hand and said, "Then why are you here with me?" The monk said, "Exactly so." The Master said, "Try leaping again!" A monk asked, "How was it before Niutou saw the Fourth Patriarch?" The Master said, "Guanyin in every home." "How about after he saw him?" The Master said, "A firefly in the flames swallowing a tiger." A monk asked, "What is a single phrase from Yunmen?" The Master said, "The twelfth month, the twenty-fifth day." A monk asked, "What is the mud-ox roaring on the snowy peak?" The Master said, "Heaven and earth go dark." "What is the wooden horse neighing at Yunmen?" The Master said, "Mountains and rivers run." A monk asked, "The matter that comes down from above—please, Master, raise the essential points." The Master said, "Look southeast in the morning, northwest in the evening." "If I understand it just so, then what?" The Master said, "Light the lamp in the eastern room; sit in darkness in the western room." A monk asked, "How, throughout the twelve periods of the day, does one avoid passing time in vain?" The Master said, "Where would you place this question?" The monk said, "Your disciple doesn't understand. Please, Master, raise it." The Master said, "Bring me brush and ink." The monk brought brush and ink. The Master composed a verse: ... \[verse not included in this segment\]

舉不顧 即差互 擬思量 何劫悟

> If you do not lift it up, You will miss the point entirely. If you try to think it through, How many eons until you wake up?

問如何是學人自己。師曰。遊山翫水。曰如何是和尚自己。師曰。賴遇維那不在。問一口吞盡時如何。師曰。我在汝肚裏。曰和尚為什麼在學人肚裏。師曰。還我話頭來。問如何是道。師曰去。曰學人不會請師道。師曰。闍梨公憑分明何得重判。問生死到來如何排遣。師展手曰。還我生死來。問如何是父母不聽。不得出家。師曰淺。曰學人不會。師曰深。問如何是學人自己。師曰。汝怕我不知。問萬機俱盡時如何。師曰。與我拈却佛殿來與汝商量。曰佛殿豈關他事。師喝曰。遮謾語漢。問如何是教外別傳一句。師曰。對眾將來。曰直得恁麼時如何。師曰。照從何立。問如何是和尚家風。師曰。門前有讀書人。問如何是透法身句。師曰。北斗裏藏身。問如何是西來意。師曰。久雨不晴。又曰。粥飯氣。問古人橫說竪說猶未知向上關棙子。如何是向上關棙子。師曰。西山東嶺青問如何是西來意。師曰。河裏失錢河裏漉。師有時坐良久。僧問何似釋迦當時。師曰。大眾立久快禮三拜。師嘗有頌曰。

> A monk asked, "What is this student's true self?" The master said, "Roaming the mountains and enjoying the waters." The monk asked, "What is the master's true self?" The master said, "Luckily the attendant isn't here." A monk asked, "What about when one swallows the whole universe in one gulp?" The master said, "I'm inside your belly." The monk said, "Why is the master inside this student's belly?" The master said, "Give me back my question." A monk asked, "What is the Path?" The master said, "Go." The monk said, "This student doesn't understand—please explain." The master said, "Your credentials are perfectly clear—why ask for a second verdict?" A monk asked, "When birth and death arrive, how does one cope?" The master extended his hand and said, "Give me back birth and death." A monk asked, "What about someone whose parents haven't permitted them to leave home and become a monk?" The master said, "Shallow." The monk said, "This student doesn't understand." The master said, "Deep." A monk asked, "What is this student's true self?" The master said, "Are you afraid I don't know?" A monk asked, "What about when all mental activities have completely ceased?" The master said, "Tear down the Buddha hall for me, and then we can discuss it." The monk said, "What does the Buddha hall have to do with this?" The master shouted, "You nonsense-talker!" A monk asked, "What is the single phrase transmitted outside the teachings?" The master said, "Present it before the assembly." The monk said, "What about when it's just like that?" The master said, "From where does illumination arise?" A monk asked, "What is the master's family style?" The master said, "In front of the gate there's a scholar reading." A monk asked, "What is the phrase that penetrates the Dharma body?" The master said, "Hiding within the Big Dipper." A monk asked, "What is the meaning of the Patriarch's coming from the West?" The master said, "Long rain, clear sky." And also said, "The smell of porridge and rice." A monk said, "The ancients spoke from all sides, yet still never reached the pivotal point beyond. What is that pivotal point?" The master said, "West mountain, east ridge—both are green." A monk asked, "What is the meaning of the Patriarch's coming from the West?" The master said, "If you lose money in the river, search for it in the river." Once the master sat silently for a long while. A monk asked, "How does this compare with Shakyamuni back then?" The master said, "The assembly has been standing a long time—quickly bow three times." The master once composed a verse saying.

雲門聳峻白雲低 水急遊魚不敢棲入戶已知來見解 何煩再舉轢中泥

> Cloud Gate rises steep, white clouds drift low beneath; The current rushes swift, fish dare not linger there. Entering the gate, one sees the visitor's true view— Why labor to raise the muddy rut again?