---
title: "天目中峰廣錄 · 示眾二"
description: "天目中峰廣錄是元代高僧中峰明本的著作集，收录其语录、诗文和书信等。中峰明本为临济宗著名禅师，师承高峰原妙，提倡禅净双修，影响深远。该书系统阐述禅宗思想，强调心性觉悟与净土信仰的结合，体现了元代佛教禅净融合的特点。作为临济宗重要文献，该书对后世禅宗发展有重要影响，是研究元代佛教思想与中峰明本禅学的重要资料，在佛教史上具有重要地位。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmcxgm71d02jblc04u3ogsikb"
---

### 示眾

> Addressing the Assembly

師子正宗禪寺示眾。所起之因既的。所期之果必親。所操之志惟真。則其所詣之地不期實而實矣。教中謂。三世如來咸為一大事因緣出現于世。欲令眾生開示悟入佛之知見。謂佛知見者。乃破生死根塵之利具也。佛祖諦觀。三界諸微塵剎。滿中眾生無一剎那而不受生。無一剎那而不變滅。浩浩乎不可以數計也。而況妄情起滅剎那不住。生死之理豈細事哉。由是佛祖哀之。於大寂定中隨其迷妄為轉法輪。依處依緣多立名字。謂之華嚴法華。謂之楞嚴圓覺。乃至菩提涅槃真如般若正法眼藏涅槃妙心等。一依此心建立。名常異而體常同也。名異故方便善權。體同故不離本際。必欲眾生悟本際越生死情妄而後已。凡學者跨門。靡有不以為生死事大無常迅速而為辭者。逮扣其所以。或者茫然無所加對。或者謂。自出母胎至命光遷謝。其生不知來死不知去。是生死也。又或指終日竟夜念慮遷流後念倐生前念忽滅。取舍去來紛然無緒。寢興變化未嘗暫歇皆生死也。是說不越分段變易二種生死。極理原之皆枝葉爾。非根本也。謂根本者。性真圓明本無生滅去來之相。良由不覺瞥起妄心。迷失本源虛受輪轉。以故教中謂。迷之則生死始。悟之則輪回息。蓋根乎迷而本乎妄也。楞嚴會上富樓那問。清淨本然云何忽生山河大地。此問蓋迷真起妄成立生死之因。佛答以大地山河皆如來藏。乃返妄旋真破除生死之要旨也。以迷故引妄入心積集倒見。圓覺喻之如四方易處。迷妄在眼。不惟所見之色是生死。以至離種種色象純見於空。空亦是生死。迷妄在耳。不惟所聞之聲是生死。乃至離聲即寂。當知其湛寂無聞亦是生死。以至意緣善惡。不惟惡是生死。善亦未嘗不是生死。積為念慮。非惟動念是生死。至于息念亦是生死。以緣配之。不惟染緣是生死。其淨緣亦是生死。以覺論之。不惟不覺是生死。其念起即覺亦是生死。仰而觀之之謂天。俯而視之之謂地。廣而窺之之謂法界。大而量之之謂虛空。總不出見分。皆生死也。當知此心未即了悟。使其立地成佛。要且亦在生死網中。原夫生死之大。欺凡壓聖籠古罩今。未有一法不遭其淪溺者。以故目之曰大事因緣。有等闡提漢聞說箇生死。乃掉頭不顧。遽引經書文字中相似語言。謂法性清淨猶若虛空。世界壞時此性不壞。圓滿湛寂逈絕動搖。聲色全真見聞不昧。所謂佛身無為不墮諸數。何處更覔生死去來之跡。有問生從何處來。便道水流元在海。死向何處去。遽謂月落不離天。似此等見解。喚作喫鐵棒陷鐵圍之張本。儞若不曾向真實法中脫然超悟。更於悟外別立生涯。不存窠臼豈堪於生死岸畔立得脚牢。苟或纖毫不盡。未免復為勝妙境緣惑在那邊起諸異想。雖曰曉了其實未然。古所謂努力今生須了却。莫教永刦受餘殃。又云。八十公公入場屋。真誠不是小兒嬉。惟有痛以生死大事為己重任者。一切時中卓卓地。單提此事蘊之方寸。向三根椽下淹沒三十年二十年宛同一日。於大方之外闊跨三千里五千里不間絲毫。廢寢食忘寒暑。耐寂寞禁熬煉泯愛憎離順逆。空能所融是非。死盡偷心方堪湊泊。古人謂。叅禪一著要敵生死。不是說了便休。前輩叅禪大有樣子。一一皆是竿頭進步。撒手懸崖。豆爆冷灰。死中得活。備嘗艱苦不憚勤勞。挫銳解紛埋光鏟彩。不肯以小成近効而生自足之心。蓋知生死根塵大於虛空廣於法界。況是歷涉多生熏鍊成熟。纖毫不盡便是鐵圍。所以立志如敵萬人。一步要跨千里。盡形骸面皮鐵石。窮歲月肝膽氷霜。忘利養於念端。空名位於世表。無念尚虞滯跡。有佛安得肯為。非效學而能。蓋真實為生死者。曾不期然而然矣。今人反是。才跨門來立脚未穩。以聰明之資。打頭逴得箇自性離生滅真身絕去來底現成說話。以為本柄。自己脚跟下未曾卒地折爆地斷底一條生死命根。置之無事甲中取性。向佛祖頂𩕳上高揮大抹。自謂禪學理應如是。奈何實地上工夫未曾親到。不知據廣床說大話打圓相卓烏藤。一一皆與生死根塵交光接影。而況心塵易壅識馬難調。愛見之習潜興。貪妄之情默運。輪回未斷而益熾。生死未空而愈滋。藂林衰替法社荒涼。未有不本於此者。所謂不是說了便休。斯言豈欺人哉。蓋實有如是事也。儞不思。為生死根塵籠絡在塗炭中。一日一夜萬死萬生。形飄劒㦸業墜火湯。改頭換面備嘗楚毒。這箇都是墮生死惡道底家常茶飯。無量刦來不是不曾經歷。今日要將此根深蔕固底生死牢關一回󷘓轉。豈易事哉。更若顧利害較得失擇甘辛存取舍。則生死根塵又將接續去也。或者謂展轉流浪且置之不問。輪回生死不由超悟。還有休息之時節也無。對曰。譬如猛風吹海。欲其波浪自息豈可得乎。其生死苟有自息之時。則佛祖不須興慈運悲曲施方便一至於此也。是故塵沙可數。而生死莫知其數量。滄溟可飲。而生死莫知其邊涯。當知無量刦來為生死流轉。至于今身於苦於樂以昇以沉。竟莫知其幾矣。以迷妄所蔽不自覺知。只據現量較之。却似今日方從頭起。當知未來汩沒浩無邊涯。推其所因非天降非人與。一由迷妄所致。好趂今日身強力健。提起箇無義味話頭。猛奮精神一踏到底。恁時說有生死也得。說無生死也得。回古風於剎那。播玄機於當念。如壯士屈臂師子遊行。豈小根劣器者所能擬哉。

> A teaching given to the assembly at the Lion's Authentic Zen Monastery: When the cause you set in motion is true, the fruit you seek will surely be close. When the aspiration you hold is genuine, then the place you arrive at will be real without your even aiming for it. The scriptures say that all the Buddhas of the three times appear in the world for one great purpose: to enable living beings to open, reveal, awaken to, and enter the Buddha's knowledge and vision. This "Buddha's knowledge and vision" is the sharp tool that shatters the root of birth-and-death and the dust of sense objects. The Buddhas and Patriarchs, looking deeply, saw that across the three realms, in every speck of dust, every living being undergoes birth in every single moment, and passes away in every single moment. Vast and boundless, beyond all counting. And all the more so, deluded thoughts arise and cease, never abiding for even an instant. How could the matter of birth-and-death be a small thing? Out of compassion, the Buddhas and Patriarchs, within great silent concentration, turned the wheel of Dharma according to beings' delusions, establishing many names based on circumstances and conditions — calling it the Avatamsaka, the Lotus, the Surangama, the Perfect Enlightenment, and even Enlightenment, Nirvana, Suchness, Prajna, the Treasury of the True Dharma Eye, the Wondrous Mind of Nirvana, and so on. All are established depending on this mind. The names always differ, but the essence always remains the same. Because names differ, there are skillful means; because the essence is the same, it never departs from the fundamental ground. The Buddhas want nothing less than for all beings to awaken to that fundamental ground, transcend birth-and-death and deluded emotions — only then do they stop. Whenever students step through the gate, there is not one who does not say, "Birth-and-death is a great matter; impermanence is swift." But when you press them on what they actually mean, some are blank and have no answer. Others say: "From the moment I left my mother's womb until my life-force departs — I don't know where I came from at birth, I don't know where I go at death. That is birth-and-death." Still others point to how, all day and all night, thoughts flow and shift — the next thought suddenly arises, the previous thought suddenly vanishes; choosing and rejecting, coming and going, in endless confusion; waking and sleeping, always changing, never pausing for an instant — all of this is birth-and-death. These explanations go no further than the two kinds of birth-and-death: fragmentary and transformational. Trace them to their root, and they are all just branches and leaves — not the root itself. What is the root? The true nature is perfectly bright and complete, fundamentally without the marks of birth, death, coming, or going. It is only because of non-awakening that a deluded mind suddenly arises, loses the original source, and vainly undergoes the turning wheel. That is why the scriptures say: "Deluded, birth-and-death begins; awakened, the turning wheel stops." It is rooted in delusion and based in the false. At the Surangama assembly, Purna asked: "If the pure original nature is thus, how did mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?" This question points to how delusion about the real gives rise to the false, thereby establishing the cause of birth-and-death. The Buddha answered that mountains, rivers, and the great earth are all the Tathagata's treasury — this is the essential instruction for reversing the false and returning to the true, for breaking through birth-and-death. Because of delusion, falsehood is drawn into the mind and inverted views accumulate. The Perfect Enlightenment compares this to mistakenly thinking the four directions have changed places. When delusion is in the eye, not only are visible forms birth-and-death — even when you leave behind all forms and see only emptiness, that emptiness is also birth-and-death. When delusion is in the ear, not only are audible sounds birth-and-death — even when you leave sound behind and abide in stillness, you should know that this silent, soundless stillness is also birth-and-death. When the mind ranges over good and evil — not only is evil birth-and-death, but good too is never not birth-and-death. Accumulated into thoughts — not only is stirring a thought birth-and-death, but even stilling thought is also birth-and-death. Matching it with conditions — not only are defiled conditions birth-and-death, but pure conditions are also birth-and-death. Judging by awareness — not only is non-awakening birth-and-death, but even the arising of a thought together with awakening is also birth-and-death. Looking up, we call it heaven. Looking down, we call it earth. Looking widely, we call it the Dharma realm. Measuring vastly, we call it space. None of it goes beyond the seeing aspect. All of it is birth-and-death. You should know that if this mind has not yet awakened, even if you were to become a Buddha on the spot, you would still be caught in the net of birth-and-death. Consider how vast birth-and-death is — it cheats the ordinary, oppresses the sage, covers the ancient, shrouds the present. There is not a single thing that escapes its drowning. That is why it is called the great matter. There is a type of person of no faith who, hearing about birth-and-death, turns their head away and refuses to look. They hastily pull out similar-sounding phrases from scriptures and texts, saying: "The Dharma nature is pure, like empty space. When the world is destroyed, this nature is not destroyed. Perfectly serene and still, utterly beyond movement. Sound and form are all real; seeing and hearing are undimmed. The Buddha-body is unconditioned and does not fall into any category. Where would you even look for traces of birth-and-death, coming and going?" If asked where birth comes from, they say, "The water's flow is originally in the sea." If asked where death goes, they hastily say, "The moon sets but never leaves the sky." Insights like these are called "the prelude to eating an iron staff and falling into the iron enclosure." If you have not once and for all broken through and awakened in the true Dharma, and instead set up some other livelihood beyond awakening, clinging to no fixed pattern — how could you possibly stand firm on the shore of birth-and-death? If even a hair's breadth remains incomplete, you will inevitably be confused by superior and wondrous conditions, giving rise to strange thoughts over there. Though you may say you understand, in truth you do not. The ancients said: "Strive in this life to finish it; do not let endless kalpas bring you lingering misfortune." They also said: "An eighty-year-old man entering the examination hall — this is truly no child's play." Only those who take the great matter of birth-and-death as their own heavy responsibility, at all times standing tall and alone, carrying this matter in their heart — buried under three rafters for thirty or twenty years as though it were a single day, striding three thousand or five thousand li beyond the great square without a hair's gap, neglecting sleep and food, forgetting cold and heat, enduring loneliness, forbidding torment, erasing love and hate, departing from favorable and unfavorable, emptying subject and object, dissolving right and wrong, dying completely to the thieving mind — only such a one is fit to draw near. The ancients said: "The one thing in Zen practice is to do battle with birth-and-death. It is not something you finish just by talking about it." The predecessors in Zen practice had many examples. Every one of them advanced to the top of the pole and let go at the cliff's edge. Beans popped in cold ashes; they came alive within death. They fully tasted hardship and did not shrink from toil. They blunted their sharpness, untangled their confusion, buried their light, and concealed their brilliance. They refused to feel self-satisfied because of small attainments or near results. They knew that the root of birth-and-death and the dust of sense objects is greater than space and wider than the Dharma realm. Moreover, it has been built up and ripened through many lives. If even a hair's breadth remains, it is the iron enclosure. Therefore they set their resolve like one facing ten thousand enemies. One step must cross a thousand li. They made their body and face like iron and stone. Through endless years, their liver and gall were like ice and frost. They forgot profit and support at the very thought. They emptied name and position beyond the world. Even without a thought, they still feared lingering traces. With a Buddha present, how could they consent to be it? This is not something achievable by imitation. Those who truly work for birth-and-death arrive there without ever aiming for it. People today are the opposite. They have barely stepped through the gate, their footing not yet steady, and with cleverness as their resource, they immediately grab a ready-made saying about self-nature being free from birth and death, the true body transcending coming and going, and take it as their foundation. But the root of birth-and-death beneath their own feet has not been broken through, has not been snapped. They set it aside in the box of "nothing to do" and act willfully, wildly slashing above the heads of Buddhas and Patriarchs, saying, "Zen study should be like this." But the work on the actual ground has not been personally reached. They do not know that sitting on a wide seat, speaking grand words, drawing circles, and striking with the staff — each and every one of these interacts with the root of birth-and-death and the dust of sense objects. All the more so, the mind-dust easily clogs, the horse of consciousness is hard to tame. The habits of love and views secretly arise. The emotions of greed and delusion silently operate. The turning wheel is not yet cut off and burns ever brighter. Birth-and-death is not yet empty and grows ever more abundant. The decline of the monastic community and the desolation of the Dharma hall — none of this arises from anything other than this. "It is not something you finish just by talking about it" — how could these words deceive anyone? Truly there is such a matter. Do you not reflect: entangled by the root of birth-and-death and the dust of sense objects, caught in boiling misery, in a single day and night you die ten thousand times and are born ten thousand times. Your form drifts among swords and spears; your karma plunges into fire and boiling water. Changing heads and swapping faces, you fully taste bitter poison. These are the everyday tea and rice of those who fall into the evil paths of birth-and-death. Through countless kalpas, it is not that you have never experienced this. Today you want to turn this deeply rooted, firmly fixed bar of birth-and-death around in one sweep — how could that be an easy matter? If you further consider profit and harm, weigh gain and loss, choose the sweet and spit out the bitter, grasp and reject — then the root of birth-and-death and the dust of sense objects will continue on again. Someone may say: "Set aside for now the endless wandering. If the turning wheel of birth-and-death does not depend on transcendent awakening, is there still a time when it ceases on its own?" The answer: It is like a fierce wind blowing over the sea. If you want the waves to stop by themselves, how could that be possible? If birth-and-death had a time when it stopped by itself, then the Buddhas and Patriarchs would not have needed to stir compassion, exercise grief, and devise skillful means to such an extent. Therefore: the dust of the earth can be counted, but the measure of birth-and-death cannot be known. The great ocean can be drunk dry, but the boundary of birth-and-death cannot be known. You should know that through countless kalpas you have been turning in birth-and-death, and to this present body — in suffering and in joy, rising and sinking — you cannot know how many times. Hidden by delusion, you do not know it yourself. Judging only by what is presently manifest, it seems as though it all began today from the start. You should know that your future sinking will be vast and without boundary. Trace its cause: it is not sent down by heaven, not given by other people. It is entirely caused by delusion. Better seize this day while your body is strong and your power is full. Take up a senseless phrase. Summon your spirit and press forward in one dash to the bottom. At that time, to speak of having birth-and-death is fine. To speak of having no birth-and-death is also fine. In a single instant, you restore the ancient wind. In a single thought, you broadcast the mysterious mechanism. Like a strong man bending his arm, like a lion roaming — how could this be measured by those of small capacity and inferior faculties?

示眾。雲門話墮趙州勘婆。唯之與阿相去幾何。焦尾錦鱗躍開地網。摩空俊鶻透過天羅。不動一塵知落處。二千年事不爭多。還會麼。如或不然更為儞重下註脚。記得雪竇和尚頌為道日損有偈云。三分光隂二早過。靈臺一點不揩磨。貪生逐日區區去。喚不回頭爭奈何。拆東籬補西障。回地軸轉天關。在雪竇則不無。爭奈此四句遭人撿點。三分光隂二早過。向甚處去也。靈臺一點不揩磨。無儞下手處。貪生逐日區區去。何處不稱尊。喚不回頭爭奈何。直得分踈不下。高高峯頂行擡脚不起。深深海底坐打衣不濕。雪竇平地上把人埋沒。撚指二百餘年。今古之下乏人點撿。幻住也有一偈。還有撿點者麼。須早出來。不然則就與拈出去也。三尺黑蚖眠暗室。一雙白鼠囓枯藤。家山咫尺無行路。有底閑情逐愛憎。

> A public teaching. Yunmen’s words fell into caution; Zhaozhou tested the old woman. How far apart are “yes” and “eh”? The scorched-tail brocade carp leaps free of the earth’s net; the soaring falcon breaks through heaven’s snare. Unmoving by a single dust mote, one knows where one lands; the affairs of two thousand years are not much to dispute. Do you understand? If not, I will add a footnote for you again. I recall Elder Xuedou’s verse on “the Path daily diminishing,” which says: Three parts of light and shadow—two have already passed. The spirit terrace, one point, is never wiped or polished. Clinging to life, chasing the days, scurrying on and on. Call and it will not turn its head—what can you do? Tear down the east fence to patch the west barrier; turn the earth’s axis and spin heaven’s gate. In Xuedou’s case there is no lack of this. But how can these four lines escape people’s scrutiny? “Three parts of light and shadow—two have already passed”: where have they gone? “The spirit terrace, one point, is never wiped or polished”: you have no place to set your hand. “Clinging to life, chasing the days, scurrying on and on”: in what place is one not honored? “Call and it will not turn its head—what can you do?”: you simply cannot sort it out. On the high peak’s summit, you cannot lift your foot; in the deep sea’s bottom, sitting, your clothes do not get wet. Xuedou buries people alive on flat ground. A snap of the fingers: more than two hundred years. Beneath ancient and modern, there is a lack of people to scrutinize it. Huanzhu also has a verse. Are there any who can scrutinize it? You must come forward early. Otherwise, I will just toss it out for you. A three-foot black viper sleeps in a dark room. A pair of white mice gnaws a withered vine. The family mountain is close at hand, yet there is no road to walk. Some idle feelings pursue love and hate.

解制示眾。臨濟喝得口破。德山棒得手折。雪峯是甚麼。雲門乾屎橛。千七百箇老骨撾。開口重重納敗闕。爭似幻住一夏九十日。無禪可叅無法可說。把箇無義味話。拋在諸人面前。指鹿為馬證龜成鱉。逗到今朝靈驗全無。露柱燈籠與禪板蒲團互相歡悅。驚起目犍連尊者忍俊不禁。鐵錫敲開地獄門。剎那滅却阿鼻業。諸禪德還知麼。此事且置。九十日內謂之禁足。謂之護生。謂之安居。謂之聖制。一日鉢盂兩度濕。畢竟為箇甚麼。古教謂。迷之則生死始。悟之則輪回息。然悟之則不復與論。既曰未悟決定是迷。迷之則無常生死。念念開端塵塵肇始。恒河沙刦出沒昇沉。卒未有了日在。無常殺鬼誰管儞山中坐夏來。莫說與麼坐一夏。儞若不精勤勇猛如救頭然。曲徇世情橫生妄見。披襟閑謔曳履高心。漁獵古今虛延歲月。似與麼過得百千萬億夏。惟長業輪全虧道用。今日九旬制滿三月功圓。被人問著水牯牛作麼生猢孫子作麼生。只與未結夏前宛爾無異。豈不孤他佛祖垂教天龍擁護檀信供給王臣加被者哉。在今日事不獲已。更與諸人展箇寬限。初發心為生死入道之日即是結制。於中也不論九十日九十月九十年。但念念不退轉。念念不間斷。念念不休息。念念不棄離。叅之究之決之擇之。直至心空及第。脫略見聞打破漆桶之頃。便是解制之日也。儞不見。古教謂。如一眾生未成佛。終不於此趣泥洹。這箇說話固是悲願弘深。殊不知綿裏之刺蜜中之砒。直是惱人懷抱。大丈夫或不趂此一期透脫。自甘流浪。豈理然哉。記得僧問趙州。萬法歸一一歸何處。州云。我在青州做一領布衫重七斤。謾陳一偈以遣時緣。七斤衫重出青州。老趙州禪觸處周。聖制九旬今日滿。杖藜千里又驚秋。

> At the end of the summer retreat, the Master addressed the assembly: Linji shouted until his mouth split open. Deshan struck until his hands broke. What was Xuefeng? Yunmen's dried shit-stick. The seventeen hundred old bones—every time they opened their mouths, they piled up failure upon failure. How could they compare to this illusory abiding through one summer of ninety days—no Chan to be investigated, no Dharma to be spoken—tossing a meaningless phrase before everyone, calling a deer a horse, proving a turtle to be a soft-shelled turtle. Now today, its efficacy is utterly gone. The pillar and the lantern, the meditation board and the cushion—all delight in one another. This startles Venerable Maudgalyayana into uncontrollable laughter. His iron staff knocks open the gates of hell; in an instant, the karma of the Avici Hell is extinguished. Do you venerable Chan practitioners understand this? But set this matter aside. Within the ninety days, it is called "restricting the feet," called "protecting life," called "peaceful dwelling," called "the sacred regulation." Each day, the bowl gets wet twice—what ultimately is this for? The ancient teachings say: "Deluded, birth and death begin. Awakened, the cycle of rebirth ceases." But once awakened, there is no more discussion. Since it is said one is not yet awakened, one is definitely deluded. Deluded, then impermanence and birth-and-death—moment after moment initiating, dust after dust beginning—throughout kalpas as numerous as Ganges sands, rising and sinking, emerging and submerging, with never a day of completion. The impermanence death-demon—who cares whether you have come to sit through the summer in the mountains? Don't say you have sat through a summer like this. If you do not apply diligent and courageous effort as though your head were on fire, but instead indulge worldly sentiments, recklessly give rise to deluded views, lounge about in idle chatter, drag your heels with a lofty mind, fish and hunt through past and present, vainly wasting the years—passing a hundred thousand million summers in this way only lengthens the wheel of karma and completely loses the function of the Path. Today the ninety-day retreat is complete, the three months' effort fulfilled. If someone asks you, "How is the water buffalo? How is the little monkey?"—it should be exactly as it was before the summer retreat began, with no difference at all. Would that not betray the Buddhas and Patriarchs who bestowed the teachings, the devas and dragons who protected, the faithful donors who provided, and the kings and ministers who lent their support? In today's situation, there is no choice. I will extend a broader deadline for everyone. The very day you first arouse the mind for the sake of birth-and-death and enter the Path—that is the beginning of the retreat. Within it, it does not matter whether it is ninety days, ninety months, or ninety years. Simply: thought after thought without regression, thought after thought without interruption, thought after thought without rest, thought after thought without abandonment. Investigate it, penetrate it, settle it, discern it—until the mind is empty and you pass the examination, until the moment you cast off seeing and hearing and smash through the lacquer barrel. That is the day of releasing the retreat. Have you not seen? The ancient teachings say: "If even one sentient being has not yet become a Buddha, I will never enter nirvana." These words are certainly a vow of profound compassion—but little do people know they are a thorn wrapped in silk, arsenic within honey, truly vexing to the heart. If a great man does not take this one opportunity to break through and free himself, but willingly drifts on in wandering—how could that be reasonable? I recall a monk asked Zhaozhou: "The ten thousand dharmas return to the One; where does the One return to?" Zhaozhou said: "I made a cloth shirt in Qingzhou—it weighs seven catties." Let me venture a verse to send off the season's conditions: \*The seven-catty shirt comes from Qingzhou;\* \*Old Zhaozhou's Chan reaches everywhere.\* \*The sacred ninety-day retreat is complete today;\* \*Staff in hand, a thousand miles—again startled by autumn.\*

歲朝示眾。大眾。達磨大師來也還見麼。見不見且止。儞道其來所為何事。乃言。今日年新月新日新。以至森羅萬象山川草木同時俱新。惟我單傳直指之道。置之熊耳峯畔千餘年。塵堆垢積草長醭生直是無人顧著。今日乘此佳節敢借菴主拂子拄杖。與之震動發揮。也要一回斬新垂示。因告之曰。此道自虛空萬象有無情等。四聖六凡各各本來具足謂單傳。傳箇甚麼。直指所指何事。離此道外莫別有向上事麼。時老達磨不覺含羞而去。雖然事無一向。今日既是應箇時緣。不免因行掉臂去也。以拂子擊拄杖一下云。諸人還見麽還聞麽。直下塵消垢落影現光浮。覿面相呈更無隱覆。如其不薦。切不得將心湊泊舉意測量。欲得混融別無方便。普請諸人。猛將舊年所做底窠臼盡底掀󷘓。只從今歲朝。斬新提起所叅底無義味話頭。別立生涯叅取。於此三十六旬二十四氣之中。也莫問大盡小盡今朝明朝。綿綿不休密密無間。但有片餉精神。亦不得等閑虛棄。直得心無異緣念空羣妄。驀忽於用意不及處劈面撞著。方知日日是年朝。時時是歲旦。譙樓畫角幽幽清響起孤城。鉅閣華鯨浩浩洪音鳴梵𫟍。黑漆桶望空𨁝跳。黃金圈帀地騰驤。毘盧向上未聞此等風規。威音那邊安有這箇消息。且道是甚麼消息。座上客驚槐國夢。屋頭春發少林華。

> On New Year's morning, the assembly was addressed: "Everyone, Mahāyāna Master Bodhidharma has come—do you see him? Whether you see him or not, let that be. But tell me: what matter has he come for?" Then it was said: "Today the year is new, the month is new, the day is new—even the myriad forms of the world, the mountains, rivers, grasses, and trees are all new together. Yet the Way that I transmit singly and point to directly has been left at the edge of Bear's Ear Peak for over a thousand years, buried under dust and grime, overgrown with weeds and mold, with truly no one paying it any attention. Today, seizing this fine occasion, I venture to borrow the abbot's whisk and staff to shake it awake and bring it to life. I want to offer a freshly cut teaching for once." So the master told them: "This Way, from empty space and the myriad forms—sentient and insentient alike—through the four kinds of noble beings and the six kinds of ordinary beings, is in every case originally complete and sufficient. It's called 'transmitted singly.' But what is transmitted? What does 'direct pointing' point to? Apart from this Way, is there something else that goes beyond? At this, old Bodhidharma could not help but withdraw in embarrassment. "Even so, things don't follow just one track. Since today responds to a certain time and circumstance, I cannot help but swing my arms and go along. With the whisk, striking the staff once: 'Do you all see? Do you all hear? Right here, dust dissolves, grime falls away; the shadow appears, the light floats up. Face to face it's presented—nothing is hidden. But if you don't get it, do not try to meet it with your mind or measure it with your thoughts. If you want to merge completely, there is no other method. "I earnestly ask you all: violently overturn all the old nests you built in previous years. Starting from this New Year's morning, freshly take up the pointless phrase you've been investigating. Set up a new way of life and investigate it. Within these three hundred and sixty days and twenty-four seasonal periods, don't ask whether a month is long or short, whether it's today or tomorrow. Continuously without rest, closely without a gap. As long as you have even a moment's energy, do not casually waste it. Keep the mind without stray conditions, thoughts empty of the crowd of delusions—and suddenly, where your efforts cannot reach, you'll crash right into it face-first. Only then will you know that every day is New Year's morning and every moment is New Year's Day. "From the watchtower, the painted horn sends its faint, clear sound rising over the lonely city. From the great hall, the huge whale-drum rolls its vast, mighty voice through the temple grounds. The black lacquer bucket leaps into empty space; the golden ring gallops across the earth. Above Vairocana, such customs have never been heard of. On the other shore of Awesome Sound, how could such news exist? Tell me—what news is this? The guest on the mat starts from a dream of the Huai'an kingdom; Above the eaves, spring blooms the Shaolin flower."

開爐示眾。世界闊一丈。古鏡闊一丈。儞還知蒲團上一箇吞不下吐不出底無義味話頭也闊一丈麼。這裏一肩荷負得去。便可喚火爐作古鏡喚古鏡作世界。都無異致。如其未爾。火爐與古鏡。世界與話頭。相違不止三千里。何以如此。蓋能所分別作障礙。覿體如銀山鐵壁之堅。只此便是生死輪回根本。故楞嚴謂。根塵同源縛脫無二。識性虛妄猶若空華。由塵發知因根有相。相見無性同於交蘆。這裏無儞動步處。無儞著眼處。昔安楞嚴讀到知見立知即無明本知見無見斯即涅槃。雖破句讀之。其桶底子當下脫落。直得七穿八穴。洞見老釋迦心肝五臟。直下喚古鏡作火爐。不妨洞照森羅萬象。喚火爐作古鏡。不妨熏炙冰霜面皮。洗盡見塵絞乾情浪。無第二念無第二人。喚南作北敲東擊西。死柴頭上爛發心華。水底輝騰赤燄。冷灰堆裏撥出火種。毛端盤結青煙。一切處和氣藹然。一切處陽春燠若。信手拈來安有一毫剩法與人為知為解者哉。年來佛法無靈。往往將根塵識妄認作真心。說得宛然了無交涉。記得儒人勸學有詩。謂擊石乃有火。不擊元無煙。人學始知道。不學非自然。此說雖曰訓蒙。於禪學分上說得恰好。何以知然。謂石中有火不以智巧擊之引之。則終於不遇也。今人惟知石中有火。未曾施半錢智巧之力擊之。終日指此冷石說火之用。說到眼光落地。依前只是塊石頭。要覔一點火為用了不可得。此是不肯死心做工夫以求正悟。惟記相似語言而說禪者是也。更有一等闡提人。聞說石中有火。急碎其石欲取其火。乃至碎抹為塵終不得火。却不責不以智巧求之。便乃不肯信石中果有真火。此是不信自心成佛之凡夫也。此說且置。何謂智巧。勉向第二門頭立箇喻子。首以信根為石。次以無義味話頭為擊石之手。又以堅固不退轉志願之鐵打箇火刀。乃以精勤勇猛不顧危亡之力。向動靜閑忙中敲之擊之使不間斷。又必待無量刦中蒙佛祖授記般若種性乾草驀忽相承。是謂智巧也。引起一星子延燎不已。直教三千世界化為焦焰。復何難哉。捨此智巧未見有燒物之火無緣而自出也。記得百丈令溈山撥火。溈撥之不得。丈躬撥得之謂溈曰。儞道無這箇聻。直下還著得智巧也無。聊說一偈。十方世界火爐闊。冷灰堆裏深深撥。得一星兒遽喜歡。今古拈來閙聒聒。諸禪流休抹撻。燎却眉毛莫便休。或不如斯遭凍殺。

> At the opening of the practice season, addressing the assembly: The world is ten feet wide. The ancient mirror is ten feet wide. Do you also know that the meaningless phrase on the meditation cushion—the one you can neither swallow nor spit out—is ten feet wide too? If here you can carry it off on a single shoulder, then you may call the fire stove an ancient mirror, and call the ancient mirror the world, and there is no difference at all. If you cannot, then the fire stove and the ancient mirror, the world and the phrase, are apart by more than three thousand miles. Why is this so? Because the discrimination of subject and object creates obstruction, solid as a wall of silver and iron right in front of you. This itself is the root of birth-and-death and rebirth. Therefore the Shurangama Sutra says: The faculties and their objects share the same source; bondage and liberation are not two. The nature of consciousness is empty and false, like flowers in the sky. Awareness arises because of objects; characteristics exist because of the faculties. What is seen has no independent nature, like intertwined reeds. Here there is no place for you to move a step, no place for you to fix your eyes. Long ago, An of the Shurangama, reading the passage "When knowing and seeing establish knowing, that is the root of ignorance; when knowing and seeing are without seeing, that is nirvana," though he broke the phrases in his reading, the bottom of his bucket fell out on the spot. He penetrated in seven ways and eight, and saw straight into old Shakyamuni's heart, liver, and five organs. Right then he could call the ancient mirror a fire stove, and it still illuminated the myriad phenomena of the world. He could call the fire stove an ancient mirror, and it still scorched and seared the frosty face. He washed away the dust of views and wrung dry the waves of emotion. No second thought, no second person. He called south north and struck east at west. On a dead piece of firewood, a flower of mind burst into full bloom; beneath the water, crimson flames blazed up. From a heap of cold ashes, he drew out a seed of fire; at the tip of a hair, blue smoke coiled. Everywhere, gentle harmony prevailed; everywhere, it was warm as spring. Picking it up freely with the hand—how could there be even a hair's breadth of leftover dharma to give people as knowing or understanding? In recent years, the Buddhadharma has lost its power. People often mistake the faculties, objects, and the false consciousness for the true mind. What they say seems plausible, but has no connection to the truth at all. I recall a scholar's poem encouraging study: Strike a stone and there is fire; without striking, there is no smoke at all. Only through study does one come to know the Way; without study, it is not spontaneous. Though this saying was meant to instruct children, from the standpoint of Zen study it is stated quite well. How do we know this is so? Because although fire is in the stone, if you do not strike and draw it out with skill and effort, you will never encounter it. People today only know that fire is in the stone, but have never applied even half a coin's worth of skill and effort to strike it. All day long they point at this cold stone and talk about the function of fire. When they reach the point where the light of their eyes falls to the ground, they are still just a piece of stone as before. If you seek even one spark of fire for use, you cannot get it. This is the sort of person who refuses to die to their mind and do the work, seeking true awakening, but only memorizes similar-sounding words and calls it Zen. Then there is another type, the icchantika, who on hearing that fire is in the stone, hastily smashes the stone, wanting to take the fire. They smash it even to powder, and still never get fire. Yet instead of blaming themselves for not seeking it with skill, they refuse to believe that the stone truly contains fire. This is the ordinary person who does not believe their own mind can become Buddha. Let us set this aside. What is skill? Let me, on the secondary level, set up a simile. First, take the root of faith as the stone. Next, take the meaningless phrase as the hand that strikes the stone. Then, with the iron of a firm and irreversible vow, forge a fire-steel. Then, with the strength of diligent, courageous effort that ignores danger and death, strike and hit it amid activity and stillness, leisure and busyness, without interruption. And you must also wait for measureless kalpas, until the dry grass of prajna-nature, transmitted by the Buddhas and Patriarchs through their predictions, suddenly catches. This is what is meant by skill. Once a single spark is drawn out, it spreads and spreads without cease, until it makes the three thousand worlds into scorched flame. What difficulty is there in that? Apart from this skill, I have never seen a fire that burns things arise without cause on its own. I recall that Baizhang told Weishan to poke the fire. Weishan poked but could not find it. Baizhang himself poked and found it, and said to Weishan, "You say there is no this, eh?" Right there, can you still apply skill or not? Let me speak a verse: Throughout the ten directions, the fire stove is wide; deep in the heap of cold ashes, poke deeply. Finding one little spark, he suddenly rejoices; from ancient to modern, picked up, it clamors and chatters. You Zen wanderers, do not dawdle. Even if your eyebrows are singed, do not just stop. Otherwise, you will freeze to death.

佛涅槃日示眾。昔佛於娑羅雙樹間。以手摩胷普告大眾曰。汝等善觀吾紫磨金色之身。瞻仰取足毋令後悔。世尊大似羅公照鏡取笑傍觀。若曰紫磨金色之身。以至蚊䖟蟭螟皆無欠少。不使其各各自觀而觀於我耶。又道。佛身無為不墮諸數。又云。凡所有相皆是虛妄。遮裏還許手摩卍字胷得麼。不然古德有頌。謂彩雲影裏神仙現。手把紅羅扇遮面。直須著眼看仙人。莫看仙人手中扇。直饒便向摩胷告眾處。洞見紫磨金色之身。殊不知已是金塵入眼毒刺投心。會得十成轉增情妄。邇來為師為徒。鮮有不墮此途轍。蓋不求正悟惟貴傍通者也。諸禪德。要親見世尊涅槃妙心。且莫怱怱草草。但於三根椽下七尺單前。朝而叅暮而究。拌取三二十年。如一人與萬人敵相似。忽然冷地撞著。於死枯髏上頓開活眼。始知紫磨金色與涅槃妙心。一切智智清淨無二無二分。無別無斷故。擬心領荷。早涉途程如太阿鋒。如大火聚。苟非真正體裁全身涉入。自餘思而知慮而解。且喜沒交涉。大眾。即今還有能全身涉入者麼。更聽說偈。紫磨金色。涅槃妙心。未由契悟。莫向外尋。提所叅話。保護寸隂。萬仞壁立。志願資深。冷灰豆爆。握土成金。纔涉意地。即被魔侵。波旬起舞。慶喜沾襟。妄陳生滅。遠背玄音。報諸禪德。不用沉吟。春風不在華枝上。淺碧深紅古到今。

> On the day of the Buddha's Nirvana, a teaching for the assembly: Long ago, the Buddha, among the twin sal trees, rubbed his chest with his hand and addressed the great assembly, saying: "You should carefully behold my body of purplish-gold. Gaze upon it to your heart's content, and do not let yourselves later regret it." The World-Honored One here seems rather like Master Luo holding up a mirror — inviting laughter from onlookers. If it is said that the body of purplish-gold lacks nothing — right down to the mosquitoes, gnats, and tiny insects — then why not let each of them behold it for themselves, rather than having them look at me? Again, it is said: "The Buddha-body is unconditioned and does not fall within any category." And also: "All that has marks is false and deceptive." So then — in this, would you still allow the hand to rub the chest marked with the ten-thousand-character sign? If not, the ancient masters had a verse: "In the colored cloud's shadow a spirit appears, hand holding a crimson silk fan to hide the face. You must fix your gaze on the spirit — do not look at the fan in the spirit's hand." Even if you go straight to the place where he rubbed his chest and addressed the assembly, and there clearly see the body of purplish-gold — you should know that this is already gold-dust in your eyes and a poison thorn in your heart. To grasp it completely only multiplies deluded thinking. In recent times, whether as teachers or as students, few have not fallen into this rut — for they do not seek true awakening, but only value secondhand understanding. Zen worthies, if you wish to personally see the World-Honored One's wondrous mind of Nirvana, then do not be hasty or careless. Just beneath the three rafters, before your seven-foot sitting mat, investigate in the morning and inquire in the evening. Be willing to give it twenty or thirty years. Be like one person fighting against ten thousand. Suddenly, in a cold moment, you collide with it — and on the dead skull you abruptly open a living eye. Only then will you know that the purplish-gold body and the wondrous mind of Nirvana, together with the wisdom of all-knowing, are pure, without duality, without division — because there is no separation and no discontinuity. If you try to receive it with deliberate mind, you have already set foot on the road. It is like the tip of a Tai'a sword, like a great raging fire. Unless you genuinely embody it and enter in with your whole being, everything else — thinking and knowing it, pondering and understanding it — is, I am glad to say, utterly unrelated. Assembly, is there anyone here right now who can enter in with their whole being? Then listen also to this verse: Purplish-gold body, wondrous mind of Nirvana. Before you have awakened to it, do not seek outside yourself. Take up your investigating phrase, guard every inch of time. Stand like a ten-thousand-fathom cliff. Let your vow and aspiration run deep. Cold ashes — the bean bursts. Grasp earth — it becomes gold. The moment you touch the ground of intellect, instantly the demon invades. Mara dances with delight. Ananda's robes are soaked with tears. Vainly speaking of arising and ceasing, you turn far away from the mysterious sound. I tell you, Zen worthies: no need to brood and ponder. The spring wind is not on the flowering branch — pale blue and deep red, from ancient times to now.

除夜示眾。欲識佛性義當觀時節因緣。且只今是甚麼時節。臘月二十九既非大盡。乃是年窮歲極之時也。古人謂。生死交接之際。是臘月三十。喻年盡月盡日時俱盡也。且一年三百六十日內。還辦得甚麼事來。若辦不得。未免虛喪此一年。豈但虛喪此一年。自無量刦來至于今日。總是虛喪過了。或不便從今日脚跟下做箇立地。提起所叅話別立生涯猛利做向前去。來年雖未過。敢保又是虛喪。豈但來年。或不猛利精勤。便百千年亦只是虛喪。諸仁者。虛喪時緣也不管。儞以虛喪故。積業愈多道力愈微。何有補於出家學道之理哉。奉勸諸人。以鐵拄杖把殘年許多懶墯自恣昏沉掉舉。一劃劃斷向明日大年初一為始。奮起精進勇猛神力。做一日便要見一日功程。及早討箇倒斷。庶不孤出家行脚之志願也。如人上山各自努力。復云。今夜臘月廿九。處處迎新送舊。惟有衲僧面前動著便成窠臼。不如念一道真言。消遣殘年不唧𠺕。是大神呪是大明呪。試聽五更樓上鍾。百千幻法皆成就。

> On New Year's Eve, instructing the assembly: If you wish to understand the meaning of Buddha-nature, you should observe the season and its causes and conditions. So what season is it right now? It is the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month—not quite the last day, but already the very end of the year. The ancients said that the moment when birth and death meet is the thirtieth of the twelfth month, meaning the year, the month, and the day are all exhausted. Now, within the three hundred sixty days of this year, what have you managed to accomplish? If you have accomplished nothing, then this whole year has been wasted. And it is not just this one year that has been wasted—from beginningless kalpas up to today, it has all been wasted. Or perhaps you will not take this very day, right where you stand, and set yourself firmly on the ground, take up your meditation topic, and start a new life—pressing forward with fierce determination. Though next year has not yet passed, I dare guarantee it too will be wasted. And not just next year—if you are not fierce and diligent, then a hundred or a thousand years will likewise be wasted. Good people, you pay no heed to wasting time and conditions. Because you waste them, you accumulate more karma and your power on the path grows ever weaker. What benefit is there in this for leaving home and studying the Way? I urge each of you: take your iron staff, and with it strike down all the laziness, self-indulgence, drowsiness, and restlessness of these remaining years—cut it all away at a single stroke. Starting tomorrow, the first day of the new year, rouse up diligent, courageous, powerful effort. For each day you practice, you must see one day's progress. Settle the matter early, so that you do not betray the vow that led you to leave home and wander in search of the Way. As the saying goes, when climbing a mountain, each must strive for himself. Again he said: Tonight is the twenty-ninth of the twelfth month. Everywhere people welcome the new and send off the old. Only before the monk in hempen robes does anything he touches become a trap. Better to recite a true mantra, to while away the remaining year without fuss. It is a great spirit mantra, a great bright mantra. Just listen—the fifth-watch bell on the tower. A hundred thousand illusory dharmas all are accomplished.

湖州弁山幻住禪菴示眾。生從何處來。崑崙騎象舞三臺。這裏見得便見。四大已具來實無來。四大分離去實不去。乃至苦樂逆順是非得失。皆是現行三昧。山河大地明暗色空。總是自己家珍。頭頭上明物物上顯。更有甚麼生死去來之相而可分別者哉。雖然如是。儞若不曾真箇和桶子底打脫一番開兩眼睛向威音王那畔冷地一覷覷破。則未免被他山河大地四大五蘊是非苦樂一罩罩住不得自由。便乃捏目生華妄陳異見。即此便是生死大海中。頭出頭沒不得解脫底種子。直饒儞隨人道得箇不來不去底道理。爭奈儞目前有箇情見不忘動步生塵觸途成滯者何。所以道。叅須實叅悟須實悟。然而生死習氣。大都是無量刦中熏陶成熟。不同小小。若非真叅實悟。焉得有徹頭徹尾底時節。兄弟家各各帶一箇口𭭎。道生死事大。既知是一種大事。因甚麼只向他禪床角頭故紙堆裏。漁獵得一言半句。蘊在八識田中。見人問著。便乃揚眉瞬目做模打樣以為究竟。若謂大事只消恁麼了得。拈華微笑斷臂安心只成戱劇耳。又安得遺光百世照映藂林。諸仁者。儞若真實要洞明此一𫨻大事。直須發大心立大志。將平生見聞情解虛妄覺知之心拈向一壁。待他胷次中空牢牢無依倚時。驀提起箇崑崙騎象舞三臺。是甚麼道理。這裏須是把做一件無大極大底一等大事。猛著精神與之廝捱。晝夜六時不得放舍。然叅禪要具三種心。第一具大信心。第二具了生死心。第三具不退轉心。信得及則始終不惑。生死切則用心必至。不退轉則决定成就。三心既具則十二時中無虛棄底工夫。既不虛棄則念念爾心心爾塵塵爾剎剎爾。忽然向用心不及處著力不得時。和箇信得及底了生死底不退轉底。一時打失。當體洞明如十日並照。間不容髮。說甚麼崑崙騎象舞三臺。縱饒一千七百則葛藤。不直一笑而氷釋矣。即此便是真叅實悟底時節。恁時不妨於山河大地四大五蘊中。如香象王擺脫鐵鎻。獨步大方遊行自在。豈不韙歟。是則是矣。更須知有祖師門下衲僧面前換轉眼睛突出牙爪一著子猶隔天涯在。

> At Huanzhu Hermitage on Bian Mountain in Huzhou, the assembly was addressed: Where does life come from? It is like an elephant riding on Kunlun, dancing on the Three Terraces. If you see it right here, you see it. The four great elements are already present, yet truly there is no coming; the four great elements separate and depart, yet truly there is no going. Even suffering and joy, opposition and accord, right and wrong, gain and loss—all are the functioning of samādhi. Mountains, rivers, and the great earth, light and dark, form and emptiness—all are treasures of your own household. Each thing shines clearly; each object reveals itself. What sign of birth and death, coming and going, is there left to distinguish? And yet, even so, if you have not truly once broken open the bottom of the bucket, opened both eyes, and coldly glanced beyond Vīrya-king to see through it all, then you will inevitably be covered over by mountains, rivers, the great earth, the four elements, the five aggregates, right and wrong, suffering and joy—unable to be free. You will be like one pressing the eye to create flowers in the air, falsely setting forth strange views. This itself is the seed of being tossed up and down in the great ocean of birth and death, unable to attain liberation. Even if you can follow others and speak the principle of neither coming nor going, what about the fact that before your eyes there remains an un-forgotten emotional view—one that stirs dust with every step and creates obstruction wherever it touches? Therefore it is said: Enquiry must be genuine enquiry; awakening must be genuine awakening. Birth-and-death habitual tendencies have generally been ripened through nurturing over immeasurable kalpas—they are not small matters. If it is not genuine enquiry and genuine awakening, how can there ever be a time of thorough and complete breakthrough? Brothers, each of you carries a mouth, saying, "The matter of birth and death is great." Since you know it is such a great matter, why do you only go to the corner of the meditation platform, into piles of old paper, fishing for a phrase or half a phrase, storing it in the eight consciousnesses? When someone asks, you raise your eyebrows and blink your eyes, putting on a show, taking that as the ultimate. If you say the great matter can be settled just like that, then the twirling of a flower and a smile, cutting off an arm to pacify the mind—these would become mere theater. How then could they have left light for a hundred generations, illuminating the assembly? Good people, if you truly want to clearly penetrate this one great matter, you must directly rouse a great mind and establish a great vow. Take the accumulated seeing, hearing, emotional understanding, and false knowing of a lifetime and toss it to one side. Wait until within your chest it is utterly empty, with nothing to rely on. Then suddenly raise the phrase: "An elephant riding on Kunlun, dancing on the Three Terraces"—what principle is this? Here you must treat it as a matter of the greatest importance. Rouse your spirit vigorously and wrestle with it. Throughout the six periods of day and night, do not let it go. In investigating Chan, one must possess three kinds of mind. First, the mind of great faith. Second, the mind of resolving birth and death. Third, the mind of non-retrogression. If faith is sufficient, then from beginning to end you will not be confused. If the matter of birth and death is urgent, then your effort will surely reach its utmost. If you do not retreat, you will certainly accomplish it. Once these three minds are complete, then throughout the twelve hours there is no wasted effort. Since nothing is wasted, then moment by moment, thought by thought, dust by dust, kalpa by kalpa—suddenly, where effort cannot reach, where strength cannot apply, even the faith-sufficient, birth-and-death-resolving, non-retreating mind is all at once lost. The substance itself is clearly illuminated like ten suns shining at once, with no gap even for a hair. What then of "an elephant riding on Kunlun, dancing on the Three Terraces"? Even the seventeen hundred koans would not be worth a single laugh as they melt like ice. This very moment is the time of genuine enquiry and genuine awakening. At that time, amid mountains, rivers, the great earth, the four elements, and the five aggregates, you may be like a fragrant elephant king breaking free of iron chains, walking alone in the great direction, roaming freely. Is this not excellent? It is so—and yet you must also know that beneath the ancestral gate, before the patch-robed monk, there is still the matter of turning the eye and protruding fangs and claws—one step that is still separated by the ends of the earth.

結夏示眾。大眾。踞菩薩乘修寂滅行。以大圓覺為我伽藍。身心安居平等性智。此是二千年外老釋迦畫地為牢。與當時眾比丘。禁足安居之古制也。今朝四月十五適當聖制之辰。拈出陳年曆日頭。為諸人因行掉臂去也。前面一絡索且置之不論。復如何是安居平等性智。然性智平等故。盡十方剎土更無有不平等者。仰觀諸佛俯視眾生。是謂性相平等。前觀過去後及未來。是謂三際平等。諸戒定慧及󵖶怒癡。是謂一念平等。迷而生死悟而涅槃。是謂不動平等。大而虛空細而纖芥。是謂離相平等。乃至見色色平等。聞聲聲平等。審如是則四月十五結。結亦平等。七月十五解。解亦平等。於中九十日。日日平等時時平等念念平等。政與麼時喚甚麼作結。喚甚麼作解。喚甚麼作安居不安居。黃面老漢到這裏不覺全機敗露。雖然事無一向。儞若不曾真正向平等性智中脚踏實地󲏗悟一回。直饒將平等二字。盡虛空充塞殆徧。無乃益其高下耳。此事只恁麼說不過。須是硬嚗嚗地向此九十日。於無義味話上橫齩竪齩朝挨暮挨。挨到極處齩到盡時如啞子得夢。恁時不妨任意指陳。喚平等作不平等亦得。喚不平等作平等亦得。所謂我為法王於法自在。記得古人有偈謂。護生須是殺殺盡始安居。會得箇中意鐵船水上浮。莫是殺生與護生一念平等麼。恁麼商量瞎人眼目甚非細事。更聽說偈各自歸堂。九旬禁足意何殊。生殺難將古制拘。未到身心平等處。豈應容易白安居。

> At the summer retreat assembly, the Master addressed the gathering: "Everyone, dwell in the Bodhisattva vehicle and cultivate the practice of stillness and cessation. Take the Great Perfect Enlightenment as your monastery. Let body and mind abide in peace within the wisdom of equality. This is the ancient system established two thousand years ago by old Shakyamuni, who drew a boundary on the ground — the ancient rule of confinement and summer retreat observed by the monks of his time. Today, the fifteenth day of the fourth month, happens to be the occasion of this sacred regulation. I bring out an old calendar page and, for all of you, roll up my sleeves and go along with the practice. The tangled affairs before us — let us set those aside for now. What, then, is the wisdom of equality in peaceful abiding? Since the nature of this wisdom is equality itself, throughout all lands in the ten directions there is nothing that is not equal. Looking up at the Buddhas, looking down at sentient beings — this is called the equality of nature and appearance. Looking back at the past and forward to the future — this is called the equality of the three times. Precepts, concentration, and wisdom, along with anger, delusion, and craving — this is called the equality of a single thought. Deluded, there is birth and death; awakened, there is nirvana — this is called the equality of non-movement. Vast as space, tiny as a mustard seed — this is called the equality of transcending appearances. Even seeing form, form is equal; hearing sound, sound is equal. If you understand it this way, then the summer retreat beginning on the fifteenth of the fourth month — the beginning is also equal. The release on the fifteenth of the seventh month — the release is also equal. Within the ninety days in between, every day is equal, every hour is equal, every thought is equal. At exactly such a moment, what do you call 'beginning'? What do you call 'release'? What do you call 'abiding' or 'not abiding'? The yellow-faced old fellow, when he reaches this point, cannot help but have his whole mechanism completely exposed. Even so, things do not go in only one direction. If you have never truly, within the wisdom of equality, planted your feet on solid ground and had a real awakening — then even if you fill all of space with the two words 'equality' until they are everywhere, it will only increase your sense of high and low. This matter cannot be conveyed by mere talk like this. You must fiercely and relentlessly apply yourselves throughout these ninety days. On meaningless phrases, bite horizontally and bite vertically, press on morning and evening. Press until the very limit, bite until there is nothing left — like a mute person having a dream. At that time, you may freely point and declare: call equality 'inequality' — that's fine. Call inequality 'equality' — that's also fine. This is what is meant by 'I am the Dharma King, at ease in the Dharma.' I recall an ancient verse: 'To protect life, one must kill; when killing is complete, then one abides. If you understand the meaning within this, an iron boat floats on water.' Is this not the equality of killing and protecting life in a single thought? To deliberate in this way blinds people's eyes — it is no small matter. Now hear my verse, and each return to the hall: 'Ninety days of confinement — what difference does it make? Killing and protecting life are hard to restrict by ancient rule. If you have not reached the place where body and mind are equal, how could you carelessly claim peaceful abiding?'"

冬至示眾。乾三連坤六斷。慈明揭堂上之榜文。陽未復隂已消。洞山掇座元之果卓。兩重公案皎如白晝。千年活計瑩若澄潭。金毛師子擺脫鐵鎻。而奮迅遊行踏碎東西天目。玉角麒麟掣斷錦繩。而軒昂步驟衝開前後溪山。堅氷浮野水而不知。春信寄寒梅而未覺。夜後燈籠眼活。朝來露柱心空。共發揮刦外風䂓。同指點寰中節令。諸禪德還知麼。儞若道年年冬至喫齋歲歲一陽聽法。鐵酸餡鐵蒺藜互相拋擲。牛尾拂牛皮鼓撩亂激揚。任儞鼓兩片唇皮。向曲彔床上。說向天也得。說向地也得。說得隂消陽長也得。說得陽消隂長也得。我只管一日鉢盂兩度濕。冬至寒食百單五。是固是矣。儞還知只箇不管底。政是生死根株無常羈鎻政未曾透脫在。所以道。此宗難得其妙。切須子細用心。古今多少靈利人。向一色邊立定主宰。一切處禪將去。禪也禪得是。儞若不親向自己脚根下卒地斷嚗地折一回。殊不知和箇禪底。亦不曾脫他輪回生死。此事是博地凡夫。立地便要向他佛祖頭上坐臥。要於一剎那頃將他積刦根深蔕固底輪回生死連底一󷘓󷘓轉。是謂大事因緣。豈口出耳入而能及之者哉。如果未相應。且不要人別求方便。但只於十二時全身放下。單單靠取箇所叅話頭。日亦然夜亦然。行亦然坐亦然。生亦然死亦然。乃至上刀山入劒林亦皆然。更不生第二念。只麼純一無雜挨拶將去。久久純熟和箇亦然底同時脫略。心空及第其在斯焉。政與麼時喚一陽作六隂也得。喚六隂作一陽也得。喚全消是長亦得。喚全長是消亦得。喚不消不長即消即長總得。可謂真正衲子本色道流。遇緣即宗應時納祐。又何一物能拘絆哉。雖然還不喚今日作一陽來復得麼。待別有消息時却來吐露久立。

> On the winter solstice, addressing the assembly: Qian is three unbroken lines, Kun is six broken lines. Ciming posted the notice in the hall; Yang has not yet returned, Yin has already faded. Dongshan picked up the fruit table of the seat's head. These two layers of public cases are bright as broad daylight. A thousand years of livelihood, polished like a clear pool. The golden-maned lion breaks free from iron chains and strides vigorously, trampling the eastern and western Tianmu mountains. The jade-horned qilin snaps the brocade rope and steps proudly, breaking through the streams and mountains before and behind. Solid ice floats on wild waters and is not noticed; spring's message rides the cold plum and is not yet perceived. After nightfall, the lantern's eye comes alive; at dawn, the dew pillar's mind is empty. Together they unfold the wind-standards beyond the kalpa; together they point out the seasons within the world. Venerable meditators, do you also know this? If you say that year after year at winter solstice you eat vegetarian food, and every year at the return of Yang you listen to the Dharma—iron sour dumplings and iron caltrops hurled at one another, ox-tail whisks and ox-hide drums wildly rousing and stirring—then let your two lips flap as you sit on the crooked meditation bed. Speak it facing heaven, and it's fine; speak it facing earth, and it's fine. Explain it as Yin fading and Yang growing, and it's fine; explain it as Yang fading and Yin growing, and it's fine. I for my part just mind that each day my bowl gets wet twice. From winter solstice to cold food festival is one hundred and five days. That is so, yes—but do you also know the one who does not mind? Precisely this is the root of birth and death, the shackles of impermanence—precisely this you have not yet broken through. Therefore it is said: this school is hard to grasp in its subtlety; you must apply yourself carefully. Through the ages, how many sharp and clever people have planted themselves firmly on one side, carrying "Chan" with them everywhere? Their Chan may be Chan indeed—but if you do not personally, right at your own feet, cut off suddenly and snap once, then you do not realize that even the one doing Chan has never escaped轮回 birth and death. This matter is for ordinary beings of this earth: standing right where they are, they want to sit and lie upon the heads of Buddhas and ancestors; in a single instant they want to turn around the轮回 birth and death that has been deep-rooted and firm through accumulated kalpas, all at once. This is called the great matter's causal conditions. How could it be something reachable by words leaving the mouth and entering the ear? If you are not yet in accord, then do not seek some other expedient. Just in the twelve hours of the day, let go of the whole body, and simply lean on the question you are investigating. Day is so; night is so. Walking is so; sitting is so. Living is so; dying is so. Even climbing a mountain of knives and entering a forest of swords is also so. Do not give rise to a second thought. Just press on single-mindedly, without mixture. After a long time, when thoroughly familiar, even the "so" itself drops away together. Emptiness of mind and passing the rank—it is here. Right at such a time, you may call one Yang six Yin, and it is fine; call six Yin one Yang, and it is fine. Call total fading to be growing, and it is fine; call total growing to be fading, and it is fine. Call neither fading nor growing, both fading and growing—all are fine. This may be called the true patch-robed one, the genuine person of the Way. Meeting conditions, immediately the teaching; responding to the time, receiving blessings. What single thing could bind you? And yet—can you not also call today the return of one Yang? When there is other news, then come and disclose it. Standing long.

平江路順心禪菴示眾。洞元道者。從他教來信吾道之心甚篤。遽染疾而亡。守一愚弘古道亦相繼長往。老幻不勝哀悼。其所以哀者。不哀其早亡。寔哀其有志于道而未及與道相應乃賫志長往。今何所之耶。此一著子在諸人分上了不相間。須知此三人既往底消息。便是諸人現在底消息。諸人現在底受用。即是三人既往底受用。直下論生不得論死不得。舉心動念無死時無生時。記得古人有問云。亡僧遷化向甚麼處去。這一問最親切。若知得亡僧落處。便是知得自己落處。有等說脫空禪底。見與麼說便道。自性本來不生滅。有甚麼來處與去處可以指陳。說此話底喫鐵棒有分。儞每日向蒲團上。與昏沉散亂打作一團。與是非憎愛馳逐無間。與喜怒哀樂起滅不停。與生老病死首尾相續。遇順意事便乃掀眉。遇違情事應時蹙頞。這裏說得無生死無去來底道理麼。所以黃面老爺於二千年外便乃大驚小怪。目之為大事因緣。今日諸人眼眨眨地。親見他三人如是為道如是同住如是受病如是入滅。即今如是無影跡可見。無行處可尋。既不曾與工夫相應。决定未到諸佛祖大涅槃城。既未到涅槃。又不可遽言箇無遷無變底道理。既隨遷變則即今遷向何法界中。變作甚麼頭面。便從這裏不相知處。奮起一片猛利决定不退轉身心。向自己躬下。提起箇所叅底話頭。孜孜而叅。密密而究。遺寒遺暑忘寢忘飡。胷中念念如撞著鐵壁相似。只與麼一礙礙住。更不要前思後筭。今日也與麼。明日也與麼。久久不移易。將見情祛識謝塵盡念消不覺不知驀然撞透。便見他三人於未出母胎時。早行脚了早叅禪了早成佛了早如是而往了。直下更教喚誰為病者。誰為死者。誰為迷者。誰為叅禪行脚及了悟者。緫是夢言皆名剩語。由是永嘉謂。了了見無一物。亦無人亦無佛。大千沙界海中漚。一切聖賢如電拂。審如是能與五百年外老永嘉同時。如是了了見得一回。則永嘉說底即我所說。永嘉見底即我所見。永嘉證底即我所證。是謂前無釋迦後無彌勒者也。然後亦無如是說者。亦無如是見者。亦無如是證者。此是契理而說法如是故。如是至理老幻雖如此說得。要且亦未如是親證。儞諸人切不得便將此話記憶在心以當叅學會。須將箇自己所未了底一𫨻大事。橫在目前努力叅取。所以古人云。叅禪一著要敵生死。不是說了便休。今則菴居十餘間禪衲十餘輩。皆是久叅宿學。誠實以此道相從。矧乎檀越雖置身多事中。於供給眾人之心未嘗少間。或不專心的的向道念上著到。未審何福何力可以消受。今日眼見他三人受病入滅底現相。尚不肯痛加鞭策。己躬大事又不知。更待甚麼時節到來操心取辦。好教儞知。蹉過今日身強力徤易於搆取之時。異日老病入身。惟有一箇難字相待。

> Shunxin Chan Hermitage on Pingjiang Road: Instructions to the Assembly The practitioner Dongyuan was very sincere in his faith in our path, though he came from another teaching. He suddenly fell ill and died. Shouyi Yu, who upheld the ancient way with unwavering dedication, also passed away soon after. This old illusionist cannot help but grieve deeply. But what I grieve for is not their early death—I grieve that they had aspiration for the path but did not live long enough to fully realize it, and so carried their aspiration to the grave. Where have they gone now? This one matter is no different for any of you. You must understand: the news of where these three have gone is the very news of where you stand right now. Your present experience is exactly their experience after departing. Face it directly—you cannot call it birth, you cannot call it death. When you stir your mind or move a thought, there is no time of death and no time of birth. I recall an ancient master was asked, "When a monk dies and passes on, where does he go?" This question is the most intimate and direct. If you know where that monk has gone, you know where you yourself will go. There are those who talk about "empty-talk Chan." When they hear this kind of teaching, they say, "The self-nature is fundamentally unborn and undying—what coming or going is there to point to?" Those who speak such words deserve a taste of the iron staff! Every day on your meditation cushion, you tangle with drowsiness and scattered thoughts. You chase after right and wrong, liking and disliking, without a moment's rest. You ride the rising and falling of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness without pause. You follow birth, aging, sickness, and death in endless succession. When something agreeable comes, your eyebrows lift in delight. When something disagreeable comes, your face immediately furrows. How can you speak of the principle of no birth-and-death and no coming-and-going while in such a state? That is why the yellow-faced old master, Shakyamuni, over two thousand years ago was so greatly astonished and alarmed, calling this the "great matter." Now all of you, blinking your eyes, have personally witnessed how these three practiced the path, how they lived together, how they fell ill, and how they entered cessation. And now they leave no trace to be seen, no path to be found. Since they never fully matched their practice with the path, they certainly had not yet reached the great nirvana city of the buddhas and patriarchs. And since they had not reached nirvana, we cannot hastily claim for them the principle of "no transition, no change." Since they followed transition and change, where in what realm have they now transitioned to? What form have they taken? Right from this place where you cannot know—rouse a fierce, resolute, irreversible body and mind. Turn toward yourself. Take up the meditation question you have been working on. Investigate it diligently. Examine it closely and quietly. Forget cold, forget heat, forget food, forget sleep. In your chest, let thought after thought feel like you are ramming into an iron wall. Just let yourself be blocked there—do not start calculating and speculating. Today, be like this. Tomorrow, be like this. Over a long time, without shifting or changing— You will see, before you even realize it, when feelings are swept away and consciousness fades, when dust is exhausted and thoughts dissolve, suddenly you will break through. Then you will see that these three—before they even left their mother's womb—had already taken their practice journey, already practiced Chan, already become buddhas, already departed in this very way. Then, face to face, tell me: who is the sick one? Who is the dead one? Who is the deluded one? Who is the one who practices Chan, goes on pilgrimage, and attains enlightenment? All are dream words, all are redundant phrases. That is why Yongjia said: Clearly seeing, not a single thing exists. No person, no buddha either. The vast billion-world ocean is a bubble on the sea. All sages and saints are like a flash of lightning. If you can truly be of one time with old Yongjia from five hundred years ago—if you can see clearly like this even once—then what Yongjia spoke is what I speak. What Yongjia saw is what I see. What Yongjia realized is what I realize. This is called "no Shakyamuni before, no Maitreya after." And then there is no one who speaks like this, no one who sees like this, no one who realizes like this. This accords with principle, and so the teaching is thus. Though this old illusionist can speak like this about the ultimate principle, I have not yet personally realized it in this way. All of you must absolutely not simply memorize these words in your mind and take them as your study of Chan. You must take up this one great matter that you yourself have not yet resolved and place it right before your eyes—work hard to investigate it! That is why the ancients said: "The one matter of Chan practice must contend with birth-and-death. It is not something you finish just by talking about it." Now, this hermitage has over ten rooms and more than ten Chan monks—all longtime practitioners and seasoned students who sincerely follow this path together. Moreover, although the patrons are immersed in many affairs, their commitment to supporting everyone has never wavered. But if you do not focus your mind single-mindedly on the path, I wonder what merit or power you have to deserve such support? Today, with your own eyes, you have witnessed these three falling ill and entering cessation. If you still refuse to apply urgent effort, and you do not even know your own great matter—then when exactly do you plan to rouse your mind and get it done? I want you to know: if you let today pass—this time when your body is strong, your energy is high, and it is easy to accomplish—then in another day, when old age and illness enter your body, only one word will be waiting for you: "difficult."

端午示眾。春秋夏五不書其月。記史之人乃疑文闕。闕不闕十字街頭石敢當。恣向人前逞妖孽。倒騎艾虎上高樓。背挂神符施妙訣。禁赤口消白舌。𠬧卷門門五色錢。將謂無人能鑑別。忽被無手法師劈胷搊住。拽向蟭螟眼孔中。却把真機都漏泄。且漏泄底在甚麼處。庭中一樹石榴花。曉日照開如潑血。諸禪德。還委這箇消息也無。本色衲子自合知歸。未解󷘓身切忌渾侖吞棗。有祖已來凡示一言半句。如吹毛劒。如生鐵橛。如木札羹。如塗毒鼓。無儞側耳處。無儞下口處。無儞著意處。無儞近傍處。苟非具眼在生佛已前跨步在威音之外。狹路相逢只眨得眼。如風過耳似鴨聞雷。諸禪德。在三衣之下大眾筵中。於此事剔脫不下。莫教打箇不恰好換了目前境界。那時應是搆之不及也。且是二時供給見成。百般受用便當思。塵勞捨了。恩愛割了。僧相具了。話頭聞了。其所欠者惟未能㘞地一聲耳。况是今日色力康徤時節太平。處處三根椽七尺單寬廣嚴淨。雖常住公務有所不辦。且無半點事相干涉。子細思量欠箇甚麼。一箇所叅話提不起。都緣自信不及。更無第二人為障為礙。昔文殊令善財採藥云。是藥採將來。財云。徧觀大地無不是藥。儞看他互相酬酢了無剩語。因甚諸人白日青天向蒲團上。動被昏沉散亂之所纏繞。直得分踈不下。且道神做禍耶。鬼做禍耶。良久云。屈原已化鯤鯨去。徒使龍舟競汨羅。

> A Dharma talk given to the assembly on the Dragon Boat Festival. In the Spring and Autumn Annals, the fifth month of summer is not recorded — and historians suspect the text is missing a character. Missing or not missing, at the crossroads stands a stone ward-spirit, wildly flaunting its mischief before everyone. Riding backward on a tiger made of mugwort, it climbs the high tower, a magic talisman slung on its back, working its wondrous spells. It seals the red tongue of gossip and dispels the white tongue of slander. Rolling up the five-colored money from every door, it thinks no one can tell what it really is. Suddenly a Dharma master with no hands grabs it by the chest, drags it into the eye of a mayfly, and there lets the whole secret spill out. So where is it that the secret spills? In the courtyard stands a pomegranate tree — at dawn the sun opens its flowers like splashed blood. Good practitioners, do you understand this message or not? A true monk should know his own way home. If you haven't yet understood, whatever you do, don't swallow it whole like a date — whole. Since the time of the ancestral teachers, every word or half-phrase they've offered is like a hair-splitting sword, like a bar of raw iron, like a soup of wood shavings, like a drum smeared with poison. There's no place to perk up your ears, no place to open your mouth, no place to fix your mind, no place to draw near. Unless you have the eye that stands before buddhas and living beings alike, striding beyond the furthest reaches of time — meeting on a narrow road, you'll only manage a blink, like wind past the ear, like a duck hearing thunder. Good practitioners, beneath the three robes, in the midst of the great assembly, if you can't strip this matter bare, don't let a single misstep swap out the situation before your eyes — and then it will be too late to reach it. And here you have your two daily meals already provided, a hundred kinds of comfort ready to hand — but you should think: the dust of afflictions has been let go, attachment has been cut, the monk's demeanor has been fulfilled, the meditation topic has been heard. What's lacking is only that you've yet to make that one great cry of awakening. And moreover, today your health and strength are good, the times are peaceful, everywhere there are three rafters and seven feet of space, broad and pure. Even if the monastery's official duties aren't fully done, there's not half a thing troubling you. Think it over carefully — what's missing? Not a single topic of inquiry you can't raise. It all comes down to not trusting enough. There is no second person blocking or hindering you. Long ago, Manjushri told Sudhana, "Fetch me some medicine." Sudhana said, "Looking over the whole earth, there is nothing that is not medicine." See how they answered each other with no leftover words. So why is it that you all, under broad daylight and clear skies, sitting on your cushions, get tangled up by drowsiness and scattered thoughts, unable even to tell them apart? Tell me — is it the gods causing trouble, or the ghosts causing trouble? After a long pause: Qu Yuan has already become a whale and gone off — in vain they race dragon boats on the Miluo River.

中夏示眾。大眾。四十五日前朝昏沉暮散亂。四十五日後朝散亂暮昏沉。政當今日在四十五日之中。試把昏沉散亂來與老僧看。既無儞拈出處。則真如菩提涅槃解脫。亦無儞拈出處。莫說儞拈不出。便是於大寂定中。喚起二千年外釋迦老漢來。敢保其亦無拈出之理。既拈不出。儞喚甚麼作昏散。又喚甚麼作寂照。直下聖凡情盡能所障空。覿體無依當機絕待。不見四十五日在前。不見四十五日在後。三際平等一道虛閑。即今覔箇中夏亦不可得。雖然此猶是途路中事。若曰到家消息。猶較西天十萬程。諸禪德。儞最初立志。要為生死大事。不是說了便休。須發起一片不顧生不顧死底决定志氣也。不管儞前四十五後四十五正當四十五不四十五。硬嚗嚗地提箇所叅話。任儞說是說非論長論短。拍盲舉起拍盲打捱。誰管今生打得徹打不徹。直饒以熱鐵輪驅入刀山劒樹上。一日走百千萬億帀。要教把所叅話須󱅨放下。終不可得有此等志氣。欲超過佛祖為不難矣。從前做不到古人地位。只是志願不真切。立脚不穩當。所以古人道。過河須用筏。學道須立志。釋迦彌勒初無所長。只是箇能立志願底凡夫耳。昔僧問古德。一念不起還有過也無。德云。須彌山。且道與趙州青州布衫相去幾何。如其未委。此去四十五日後。却來露箇消息。

> Zhongxia addressed the assembly: "Everyone, for the first forty-five days, you were drowsy in the morning and scattered in the evening. After the forty-five days, you'll be scattered in the morning and drowsy in the evening. Right now, today, you're in the middle of these forty-five days. Try bringing your drowsiness and scatteredness out for me to see. Since you have no place to bring them out from, then true suchness, enlightenment, nirvana, and liberation—you also have no place to bring them out from. Don't say you can't bring them out—even if, within the great stillness of concentration, you called up old Shakyamuni from two thousand years ago, I dare guarantee he too would have no way to bring them out. Since they can't be brought out, what do you call drowsiness and scatteredness? And what do you call stillness and illumination? Right here, when the feelings of sage and ordinary being are exhausted and the barriers of subject and object are emptied, you face reality with nothing to rely on, and meet the moment with no opposites. You don't see the forty-five days before you, you don't see the forty-five days after you. The three times are equal, one path, empty and at ease. Even now, if you look for this Zhongxia, you can't find him either. Still, this is just a matter on the road. If we speak of the message of arriving home, you're still a hundred thousand leagues west of the Western Heaven. Zen worthies, when you first set your resolve, it was for the great matter of birth and death—not to be done once spoken of and then set aside. You must rouse a decisive spirit that cares nothing for life or death. Never mind whether it's the first forty-five, the last forty-five, right in the middle of forty-five, or not forty-five at all. Solidly, unyieldingly, take up the phrase you are investigating. Let them say yes or no, argue long or short—blindly raise it up, blindly push on. Who cares whether in this life you break through or not? Even if a red-hot iron wheel drove you onto a mountain of knives and a forest of swords, circling a hundred thousand billion times a day, and they tried to make you put down the phrase you are investigating—in the end it could not be done. With such spirit, surpassing the buddhas and patriarchs is not difficult. If in the past you couldn't reach the ancients' level, it's only because your vow was not genuine and true, your footing not steady and sure. So the ancients said: To cross a river you need a raft; to study the Way you must set your resolve. Shakyamuni and Maitreya originally had no special strengths—they were just ordinary people who could set their resolve. Once a monk asked an ancient worthy: 'If not a single thought arises, is there still any fault?' The worthy said: 'Mount Sumeru.' Now tell me—how far is that from Zhaozhou's 'Qingzhou cloth shirt'? If you haven't understood clearly, then after these forty-five days, come back and reveal a message."

丹陽大同禪菴高峯和尚遠忌拈香。臘月初一日老和尚遠忌新建大同菴。也要効年例。曇華處處開。狹路難回避。如是展家風。曾不離世諦。且如何是物外相看底句。年年燒此一爐香。白雲不在青山外。

> Incense for the memorial of the late Master Gaofeng of Datong Zen Hermitage in Danyang. On the first day of the twelfth lunar month, the old master's memorial day arrives, and the newly built Datong Hermitage must also follow the yearly custom. The udumbara flower blooms everywhere; on a narrow path, there is no avoiding the encounter. In this way the family tradition unfolds, never departing from worldly truth. And what is the phrase for seeing each other beyond all things? Year after year we burn this one stick of incense — the white clouds are never outside the green mountains.

二月旦示眾。春入寒巖不可加。枯株朽榦盡萌芽。化工無處藏形跡。紅白都開一樣華。大眾。一年歲事已過一月了也。蒲團禪板還知覺也無。鉢盂匙筯還休歇也無。芒鞋竹杖還放得下也無。燈籠露柱還忘境智也無。如其未委。儞還知。前一月如此虛度。若不痛以生死無常為己重任精勤勇猛別立生涯。則後一月未免又成虛喪不消打幾箇瞌睡十二箇月特不過展轉唐捐。剃髮染衣超方越俗所圖何事。儞還知命存呼吸麼。壯色不停猶如奔馬麼。或不趂此呼吸未斷之頃壯色可玩之時。拌性命提起話頭。與之挨拶討箇分曉。其落湯螃蟹之喻咎將誰歸。儞不見。石鞏居馬祖會下在厨作務次。祖問。子在此作麼。鞏云。牧牛。祖曰。牛作麼生牧。鞏云。一回入草去驀鼻拽將回。祖曰。子真牧牛也。看他前輩於作務之頃未嘗斯須忘此道。豈似今人橫草不拈竪草不踏。二時粥飯百般受用指顧如意。聞首座打板聲。厭嫌頓起嗟訝藂生。不得已走上蒲團。其情猿意馬馳驟不息。或不昏沉便成散亂。間有箇不忘出家本志者。強把箇所叅話提撕作主。方舉話頭未完。則又被風吹別調矣。似如此喚作叅玄上士。不啻鄭州出曹門。較他古德造次不離者。豈止霄壤相間哉。諸禪德。本色道流面前不容佇思。豈許商量。逴得便行玄都觀裏桃千樹。提得便走杏華枝上月三更。燕聲尋王謝堂上之巢。馬蹄踏劉阮溪邊之路。無一草不含芳潔。無一華不帶春容。錦雲騰第一義天。玉浪漲真三昧海。且不涉化工底句如何指陳。鷺鷥灘上翹雙足。蝴蝶園中呌一聲。

> On the first day of the second month, addressing the assembly: Spring enters the cold cliffs—nothing can surpass it. Dead stumps and withered trunks all sprout anew. The creative force has nowhere to hide its traces; Red and white alike bloom with the same splendor. Assembly, of this year's affairs, one month has already passed. Do you still notice your sitting cushion and meditation board? Do you still set down your bowl and chopsticks? Can you still put down your straw sandals and bamboo staff? Do the lantern and the pillar still make you forget objects and knowledge? If you are not yet clear about this, do you even know that the previous month was wasted like this? If you do not painfully take birth-and-death and impermanence as your own heavy responsibility, and with diligent, brave effort establish a different way of life, then the coming month will inevitably be squandered in vain again. It is not worth taking a few naps—the twelve months will just roll on uselessly. Shaving your head and dyeing your robes, rising above conventions and transcending the ordinary—what are you aiming for? Do you know that life hangs by a breath? That youthful vigor does not stay, like a galloping horse? If you do not seize this moment before the breath is cut off, while youthful vigor can still be enjoyed, throw your very life into it, take up the meditation topic, and grapple with it until you find clarity—then when you end up like a crab dropped in boiling water, whose fault will it be? Have you not heard: Shigong was staying under Mazu's assembly, working in the kitchen. Mazu asked him, "What are you doing here?" Shigong said, "Herding the ox." Mazu said, "How do you herd the ox?" Shigong said, "Whenever it goes into the grass, I grab it by the nose and pull it back." Mazu said, "You truly know how to herd the ox." See how the ancients, even in the midst of their work, never for a moment forgot this path. How unlike people today, who will not pick up a blade of grass or step on a single sprout! At the two mealtimes, with a hundred kinds of enjoyment, everything goes as they please. When they hear the head seat strike the signal board, irritation rises at once and complaints swarm. Reluctantly they climb onto the sitting cushion, but their monkey mind and horse thoughts gallop without cease. If they are not dull and drowsy, they fall into scattered distraction. Occasionally there is one who has not forgotten the original aspiration of leaving home, who forcefully takes up his meditation topic and tries to be the master. But before he has even finished raising the topic, he is carried off by the wind to another tune. People like this are called "people of the way who investigate the mystery"—they are no different from someone leaving the Cao Gate in Zhengzhou. Compared to the ancients who never strayed even in haste, is the gap not greater than heaven and earth? All you meditators of the way, before a true person of the path there is no room for hesitation; how could discussion be permitted? Grasp it and go—a thousand peach trees in the Xuan Du Monastery. Take it up and walk—on the apricot blossom branch, the moon at midnight. Swallows seek their nests in the halls of Wang and Xie; horses' hooves tread the road by Liu and Ruan's stream. Not a single blade of grass lacks fragrance and purity. Not a single flower lacks the face of spring. Brocade clouds rise in the heaven of the supreme meaning; jade waves swell in the ocean of true samadhi. But how do you point it out in a phrase that does not touch the creative force? The egret on the sandbank stands on tiptoe with both feet. In the butterfly garden, it calls out once.

佛成道日示眾。玄玄絕待妙妙無依。獨露真常全彰至體。名不得狀不得。雪老氷枯。理無礙事無礙。天荒地逈。萬里雲収午夜。四方星燦長空。揭開威音那畔腦門。圓陀陀光爍爍。擉瞎髑髏背後眼孔。淨倮倮赤條條。勒回三萬刦風飛雷厲之神機。突出五千軸海涌雲屯之寐語。大眾。釋迦老子來也。即今在諸人眼睛裏。仰見明星頂𩕳上成正等覺。儞諸人還覺眉毛動也無。如其未委。各請歸堂將箇所叅底無義味話。拍盲提起重整精神。默默自看。第一不得祛昏敵散。第二不得捨妄求真。第三不得愛聖憎凡。第四不得將心待悟。第五不得厭生離死。第六不得樂寂嫌喧。第七不得順己違他。第八不得藏形避影。第九不得揀緣擇境。更有第十箇不得。未易與人說破。直待儞似黃面老漢夜半洞見明星一遍如啞子得夢。更不待本上座忉忉也。記得前輩謂古之天地日月猶今之天地日月。古之萬物情性猶今之萬物情性。天地日月固無變也。萬物情性固無易也。道胡為而獨變乎。審如其說。二千年外所學之道。即是今日所學之道。今日所悟之道。即是二千年外所悟之道。未甞有毫髮異。儞還知。黃面老漢棄萬乘之尊榮如棄弊屣。受六年之飢凍如處宮室。及至四十九年轉法輪時。惟棲身樹下丐食檀門而已。豈似今日安居暇食指顧如意猶自生嫌。要與釋迦同證同入。未知其可也。咄白日青天莫寐語好。珍重。

> On the day the Buddha attained enlightenment, addressing the assembly: Profound and boundless, wondrous and untainted, utterly beyond all comparison. Wonderfully wondrous, resting on nothing at all. Alone it reveals true permanence, completely manifesting the ultimate essence. It cannot be named, cannot be described—like old snow, like withered ice. Principle encounters no obstruction, phenomena encounter no obstruction—like a vast wasteland, like a distant sky. Ten thousand miles of clouds gather in the midnight hour. The four directions blaze with stars across the vast sky. Prying open the skull-gate on the far shore of Awesome Sound. Perfect and round, radiant and shining. Poking out the eye-holes behind the skull. Pure and bare, utterly stripped clean. Pulling back the divine mechanism of thirty thousand kalpas of flying wind and crashing thunder. Suddenly bringing forth five thousand volumes of ocean-surge and cloud-piled dream-talk. Assembly! Shakyamuni, the old fellow, has come! Right now he is in everyone's eyes. Looking up, seeing the morning star, atop the crown of the head, he attained perfect enlightenment. Do all of you still feel your eyebrows move or not? If you have not yet understood, each of you, please return to the hall and take up that meaningless phrase you are investigating. Blindly raise it up, gather your energy anew. Silently look into it yourselves. First, you must not drive away dullness or fight off distraction. Second, you must not abandon delusion to seek the truth. Third, you must not love the sacred and despise the ordinary. Fourth, you must not use the mind to wait for enlightenment. Fifth, you must not loathe birth and flee from death. Sixth, you must not delight in stillness and disdain noise. Seventh, you must not follow yourself and oppose others. Eighth, you must not hide your form to avoid your shadow. Ninth, you must not pick and choose among conditions and objects. There is yet a tenth "must not"—but it is not easy to reveal to others. You must wait until, like that yellow-faced old fellow, in the middle of the night you see the morning star clearly, all at once, like a mute person having a dream. Then you will no longer need this old monk to ramble on. I recall the elders saying: the heaven and earth, sun and moon of ancient times are the same as the heaven and earth, sun and moon of today. The natures and feelings of all things in ancient times are the same as the natures and feelings of all things today. Heaven and earth, sun and moon are certainly unchanging. The natures and feelings of all things are certainly unchanging. How could the Way alone change? If we examine this carefully—the Way studied two thousand years ago is exactly the Way studied today. The Way realized today is exactly the Way realized two thousand years ago. There has never been the slightest difference. Do you also know? That yellow-faced old fellow cast aside the honor of ten thousand chariots like throwing away a worn-out sandal. He endured six years of hunger and cold as though dwelling in a palace. And when he turned the Dharma wheel for forty-nine years, he simply rested beneath trees and begged for food at donors' doors. How unlike today, when people live comfortably, eat their fill, have servants at their beck and call, and still feel dissatisfied. Wanting to attain the same realization and enter the same state as Shakyamuni—I do not know if that is possible. Enough! In broad daylight under the blue sky, do not talk in your sleep. Take care.

吳江州太湖簡村順心禪菴高峯和尚愍忌拈香。順心菴裏太湖中央。俄然逢愍忌。世相未能忘。大眾高峯老和尚來也。雨蒸苗葉綠。風撼稻花香。

> At the memorial ceremony for Master Gaofeng of Shunxin Hermitage in Jian Village by Lake Tai in Wujiang Prefecture, offering incense: Within Shunxin Hermitage, at the very center of Lake Tai, Suddenly the memorial day arrives. Worldly appearances are not yet forgotten. Everyone—the old Master Gaofeng has come! Rain steams the seedling leaves to green; Wind shakes the rice blossoms' fragrance.

師子巖東岡幻住菴中秋示眾。天上月水中月。光漾漾與誰說。今宵幸遇中秋節。記得。靈山話曹溪指。南泉翫寒山比將謂廣寒殿裏別無人。元來緫是弄巧󷘓成拙。竹影篩金瑤堦積雪。盡謂一輪光皎潔。那知今夜圓後夜缺。有箇譬喻試聽說。三十夜止有一夜圓。此圓時如諸禪德之精勤勇猛也。三百六十夜止有一夜是中秋。此中秋之月如諸禪德於精勤勇猛中打成一片之時也。奈何精勤時少懈怠時多。又奚止於一暴十寒而已哉。雖三百六十夜遇此良宵。其或癡雲驟起。迷霧橫陳。覿體暗昏昏。依舊沒交涉。無始時來緫是恁麼蹉過。昔人有喝火口號。謂日間閙炒炒。夜間靜悄悄。可惜好光隂。一時都過了。照顧火燭時。聞者多有警省。本上座對此中秋之月。亦有箇口號。勉為大眾舉似。天上月月月二十九夜缺。只有今夜圓。莫教雲霧攝。攝不攝眨得眼來天又明。寬著程途。且待三生六十刦。

> At Shiziyan, on the eastern ridge, at Huanzhu Hut, mid-autumn address to the assembly: The moon in the sky, the moon in the water—rippling light, shining bright. Who is there to talk to about it? Tonight, by good fortune, we meet the Mid-Autumn Festival. Remember this: at Vulture Peak the words were spoken; at Caoxi the finger was pointed; Nanquan played in it; Hanshan compared it to something. People thought there was no one else in the Lunar Palace—but it turns out they were all just being clever and making fools of themselves. Bamboo shadows sift gold; on jade steps snow accumulates. Everyone says the single round moon is bright and pure—how could they know that after tonight's fullness, the nights to come will wane? There is a simile; let me try to tell it to you. In thirty nights, only one night is full. This time of fullness is like the diligent and courageous effort of you meditation masters. In three hundred and sixty nights, only one night is Mid-Autumn. The moon of this Mid-Autumn night is like the time when you meditation masters, amid diligent and courageous effort, become one seamless whole. But alas, times of diligence are few and times of laziness are many. And how could it be only "one day of sun and ten days of cold"? Though in three hundred and sixty nights you meet this fine evening, perhaps foolish clouds suddenly rise and deluding mist spreads across; facing it directly, all is dark and dim, and still it has nothing to do with you. Since beginningless time, you have always let it slip by just like this. People of old had a fire-watch chant: "By day, noisy and bustling; by night, quiet and still. What a pity—this fine time is all gone to waste." When tending the fire and lamps, many who heard it were warned and awakened. This old seat, facing the moon of this Mid-Autumn, also has a chant. I venture to present it to the assembly: The moon in the sky—month after month, on the twenty-ninth night it wanes; only tonight is it full. Do not let the clouds and mist swallow it. Swallow it or not, in the blink of an eye the sky grows bright again. Loosen the road ahead; just wait three lives and sixty kalpas.

遇雪示眾。一片兩片飛入人間尋不見。三尺五尺積向茅簷難辨的。銀象三千界。靈瑞身光有空皆徧。玉龍八百萬。敗殘鱗甲無地可埋。梅華之恨獨深。漁簑之歸未晚。且道與蒲團禪板邊坐堆堆底人有何交涉。古者道。今日雪下藂林有三種僧。一種向被位頭究明自己。一種向經案上吟詠雪詩。一種向火爐角說喫堂供。此三種僧那箇合受人天供養。合受不合受置之勿論。諸禪德。儞還知結雨為雪凝水為氷底道理麼。然結雨為雪固是造物變化。宜乎不知。如凝水為氷。遽以流注之質。頓成堅礙之形。雖金石不可與較其固。請以喻明之。佛性猶水也。以無量刦中迷妄之寒氣念念凝合。由是結佛性之水為氷也。且政當氷時未甞不具佛性之水。奈何迷妄之寒交結未化。雖全體是水。而不得為流注灌溉之用耳。或不以智慧之日融之。安有自化之理。如是觀察向道之念可得而免。諸或謂。古人相逢彈指便解知歸。豈必待奮神力下苦工而後然哉。儞殊不知。或不曾奮神力下苦工於曩昔。任儞相逢彈破指頭。也無儞知歸之理。未有一佛一祖不因智慧之日融化迷妄之寒氷而能復其佛性之水也。今日一箇所叅話信得及處。靠得穩時豈非真智慧耶。一旦工夫熟時節至。千丈氷山也是水。萬尋雪嶺也是氷。滔滔然流歸佛性之海。任儞空中積雪火裏生氷。未聞凍合無邊之海。諸禪德。莫道本上座長於譬喻。蓋法理如是也。更聽一偈。凍雲四合雪漫漫。孰解當機作水看。只為眼中花未瞥。啓䆫猶看玉琅玕。

> Encountering Snow: Instructions to the Assembly One flake, two flakes fly down into the human world and are lost at once. Three feet, five feet pile up against the thatched eaves until you can scarcely tell what lies beneath. Silver elephants fill three thousand realms; their wondrous bodies and radiant light pervade every place where there is emptiness. Jade dragons, eight million strong, their broken scales and shattered armor have nowhere to be buried. The plum blossom's sorrow runs deepest; the fisherman's return in his straw cloak is not yet too late. But tell me — what has any of this to do with those who sit in heaps by their meditation cushions and Zen boards? The ancients said: When snow falls today, there are three kinds of monks in the monastery. One kind sits at the meditation seat and investigates his own true self. One kind bends over his scripture stand, composing poems about the snow. One kind sits by the corner of the fire pit, chatting about the meal in the refectory. Among these three kinds of monks, which one deserves to receive the offerings of gods and humans? Deserving or not deserving — let that be set aside for now. Fellow practitioners of Zen, do you understand the principle that rain congeals into snow and water freezes into ice? To be sure, rain congealing into snow is simply the transformation of nature — no wonder you do not understand it. But when water freezes into ice, its flowing, pouring substance suddenly becomes a hard, obstructing form. Even metal and stone cannot compare to its solidity. Let me illustrate with a metaphor. Buddha-nature is like water. Through beginningless kalpas, the cold air of delusion and confusion congeals it moment by moment, thought by thought. Thus the water of Buddha-nature freezes into ice. Yet even at the moment it is ice, it has never lacked the water of Buddha-nature. The trouble is that the cold of delusion has bound it so tightly that it has not yet melted. Though its entire substance is water, it cannot serve the function of flowing and irrigating. And if one does not melt it with the sun of wisdom, how could it ever transform itself? Observing in this way, can the thought of seeking the Way be escaped? Some may say: When the ancients met, a single snap of the fingers and they understood where to return. Why must one necessarily summon great spiritual power and endure bitter effort before this can happen? You fail to realize: if in the past you had never summoned great spiritual power and endured bitter effort, then even if you met someone and your fingers snapped clean off, there would still be no understanding where to return. There has never been a single Buddha or Patriarch who, without the sun of wisdom melting the frozen ice of delusion, could restore the water of Buddha-nature. If today, in the koan you are investigating, you reach a place where your faith holds firm and you can lean on it steadily — is this not true wisdom? One day, when your practice matures and the time arrives, a thousand-foot mountain of ice is still water; a ten-thousand-fathom snow ridge is still ice. Flowing and surging, all returns to the sea of Buddha-nature. Let the sky pile up snow and fire produce ice — I have never heard of the boundless sea being frozen solid. Fellow practitioners of Zen, do not say that I, the head monk, am fond of metaphors. The truth of the Dharma is simply like this. Listen further to a verse: Frozen clouds close in on every side, snow spreads boundless and vast. Who can understand, right at this moment, to see it all as water? Only because the flower in the eye has not yet been glimpsed, one opens the window and still sees jade-like bamboo.

元宵示眾。須彌燈王如來與藥師琉璃光佛。昨夜在十字街頭。相遇乃󵈢手看鰲山燈火。忽撞見箇厖眉雪頂老漢。向百眾人前說四句偈。謂惟心即佛佛惟心。此話相傳古到今。對面不知燈是火。區區徒向外邊尋。時二如來忍俊不禁。乃厲聲曰。儞說也是。惟欠悟在。只箇即心是佛即佛惟心。說與三歲小兒悉皆領會。奈何不悟。說食不療飢也。請問悟時消息。乃曰。試以喻明。有人失去徑寸之珠。雖百千兩金。不足與較其價之輕重。使此珠不獲。雖萬死莫酬其尋求之心。鏤之肺肝。刻之心膂。形之夢寐。貫之見聞。念念不忘孜孜不捨。一日不獲則一日之念不休。一年不獲則一年之心不廢。愈不見愈精勤。益不獲益勇銳。乃至情消想竭思苦神窮。寒暑兩忘寢食俱廢。積年累歲正於無可捉摸處。驀忽入手圓陀陀光漾漾。其三十年馳求之心一時頓息。是謂悟也。其尋覔此珠於心勦形瘵之際。豈非叅乎。忽頓見此珠於神明意朗之頃。豈非悟乎。苟不因叅尋之難。安有此悟獲之喜也。與論至此。忽被箇傍不甘底一喝喝散。惟見燈自是燈火自是火。樓臺突兀車馬交馳。華敷井井金蓮。燄續條條玉燭。胡張三黑李四。萬人海裏醉扶歸。查沙鬼大齋郎。百戲場中狂未歇。正恁麼時且不涉悟迷共樂昇平底句如何舉似。琉璃滿腹藏明月。菡萏渾身放寶光。

> At the Lantern Festival, addressing the assembly: The Tathagata King of Mount Sumeru Lights and the Medicine Buddha of Lapis Lazuli Radiance met last night at the crossroads. They clasped hands and watched the lanterns of the Ao Mountain. Suddenly they encountered an old man with thick eyebrows and snow-white hair, who spoke four lines of verse before the crowd: "The mind alone is Buddha, Buddha is the mind alone. These words have been passed down from ancient times to now. Face to face, one does not know the lantern is fire— How pitifully people search outside themselves." At that moment, the two Tathagatas could not hold back their laughter. They said sternly: "What you say is correct, but you still lack awakening. This very mind is Buddha, and Buddha is this very mind—tell it to a three-year-old child and they will understand it all. So why are you not awakened? Talking about food will not cure hunger." Someone asked: "What is the sign when one is awakened?" They replied: "Let me try to explain with a metaphor. Suppose someone has lost a tiny pearl. Even a hundred thousand ounces of gold cannot compare to its value. Until that pearl is found, even if they were to die ten thousand deaths, they would not give up the search. It is carved into their lungs and liver, engraved on their heart and spine, it shapes their dreams, it runs through all they see and hear. Moment by moment they do not forget; earnestly, tirelessly they do not let go. If one day passes without finding it, one day's longing does not cease. If a year passes without finding it, a year's resolve does not fade. The more they cannot see it, the more diligent they become. The more they cannot find it, the sharper their courage grows. Until finally feeling dissolves, thoughts are exhausted, effort is spent and spirit is worn out. Cold and heat are both forgotten; sleep and food are both abandoned. Years pile upon years, until at the very point where there is nothing left to grasp—suddenly it lands in their hand, perfectly round, shimmering with light. Thirty years of searching mind, in that single instant, come to a complete rest. This is what is called awakening. "Was not the search for this pearl, straining the mind and wasting the body—was that not seeking? And suddenly seeing the pearl in a moment of bright clarity and luminous spirit—is that not awakening? If not for the difficulty of the seeking, how could there be this joy of finding it through awakening?" Just as they were speaking, a bystander who could not bear it let out a shout that scattered it all. Then one saw only: the lantern is simply the lantern, the fire is simply the fire. Towers and terraces stand tall, carriages and horses race to and fro. Flowers bloom in neat golden lotus rows, flames continue in threads of jade candles. Hu the Third and Black Li the Fourth, in a sea of ten thousand people, are drunkenly helped home. The ghost-masked revelers and the great feasting officials, on the hundred-play stage, are still wildly celebrating. At exactly such a moment—without falling into either awakening or confusion, joyfully sharing in the peace and prosperity—how would you express it in verse? The lapis lazuli belly holds the bright moon entire. The lotus body radiates precious light in every pore.

除夜示眾。四時與八節。循環十二月。今夜盡破除。禪流瞥不瞥。若瞥則陳年曆日不用撿尋。不瞥則明日新條也須甄別。東村王老化紙錢。後巷竹聲俱爆裂。窮神無地可送。福運有天難接。巖前枯木糝銀華。庭際嫩條抽玉葉。將謂陽春已發生。子細看來盡是殘冬雪。諸禪流。還知今夜舊歲去不去明日新年來不來底消息麼。如其未委往往以百年壽終。喚作臘月三十夜。地黑天昏胡鑽亂撞正此時也。蒲團上生鐵脊骨。尋常竪立不牢。口唇邊無義味話。平昔提掇不起。况是年窮月盡日了時空。再欲如之若何。决定噬臍無及矣。殊不知別有箇轉身路子直是奇特。儞但守取箇所叅話不得放捨。須信來朝更有新條在。惱亂春風卒未休。或謂傳燈錄一千七百單一人。皆是言外知歸迎刃而解。初不聞有做工夫看話頭之說。在此自年朝至歲暮。其忉忉不絕口。惟是說看話頭做工夫。不但遠背先宗。無乃以實法綴繫於人乎。儞說得也是。一則老僧不具此驅耕奪食換斗移星之辣手。其奈諸方不觀人之根性。速於求人多是鑽腋插羽。急欲其高飛遠舉。奈何畫虎不成反類狗也。此事大難其人。謂看話頭做工夫。固是不契直指單傳之旨。然亦不曾賺人落草。最是立脚穩當悟處親切。縱使此心不悟。但信心不退不轉一生兩生。更無不獲開悟者。如傳燈錄中許多言外知歸之士。焉知其不自夙生脚踏實地做來。古者謂。未見有天生彌勒者是也。幻人見解止於此爾。若要一超直入不為實法所綴。明朝三百六十日又從頭起儘有光隂。今夜權且収起葛藤。珍重。

> A teaching for the assembly on New Year's Eve. The four seasons and eight solar nodes cycle through the twelve months. Tonight, all of it is wiped away. Do you Zen practitioners catch it or not? If you catch it, then the old calendar pages need not be searched through. If you don't catch it, then tomorrow's new arrangements will also need to be sorted out. Old Wang from the East Village burns paper money; bamboo in the back alley crackles and bursts. The poverty spirit has nowhere to be sent off; good fortune is hard to receive even from heaven. Withered trees before the cliff are dusted with silver blossoms; tender shoots in the courtyard put forth jade leaves. One might think spring has already arrived—but look closely, and it is all just lingering winter snow. Zen practitioners, do you know the message of whether tonight's old year departs or not, whether tomorrow's new year arrives or not? If you have not yet understood this, you will likely spend your whole life until death, calling it the thirtieth night of the twelfth month—when sky and earth are dark and you grope and stumble blindly. Right at such a time, on your meditation cushion, your spine of raw iron—ordinarily you cannot hold it upright. On your lips, those meaningless words—all along you could not lift them up. How much less when the year is exhausted, the month ended, the day finished, the hour empty—what will you do then? It will surely be too late for regret, like biting your own navel. You do not realize there is another path of turning around that is truly extraordinary. Just keep holding to your huatou without letting it go. You must trust that tomorrow morning there will be new growth—the vexing spring wind will not stop so easily. Someone may say: "The Record of the Transmission of the Lamp lists one thousand seven hundred and one people—all of them understood beyond words, meeting the blade and splitting open instantly. I have never heard of them doing practice and looking at huatou. Here you are, from New Year's morning to the year's end, endlessly chattering without stopping—only talking about looking at huatou and doing practice. Not only does this go far against the ancestral teaching, but isn't it tying people down with a fixed method?" What you say is also correct. On one hand, this old monk lacks that fierce hand that drives away the plow and snatches the food, that swaps the peck and moves the stars. But on the other hand, people everywhere do not observe students' capacities. They rush to seek students, mostly drilling into armpits and inserting feathers, eager for them to fly high and soar far—but when you fail to paint the tiger and it comes out like a dog instead... This matter is very difficult to find the right person for. To say that looking at huatou and doing practice certainly does not accord with the principle of direct pointing and single transmission. Yet it has never tricked anyone into falling into the weeds. Above all, it makes your footing steady and your awakening intimate and direct. Even if this mind does not awaken, if your faith does not retreat and does not waver, in one life or two, there is no one who will fail to attain awakening. As for the many people in the Record of the Transmission of the Lamp who understood beyond words—how do you know they were not doing solid practice from past lives? The ancients said: "I have never seen a naturally born Maitreya." This is precisely it. The illusory person's understanding stops here. If you want to leap straight in, beyond a single step, and not be bound by fixed methods—tomorrow, the three hundred and sixty days begin again from the start, and there is plenty of time. Tonight, for now, let us roll up the vines. Take care.

浴佛日示眾。大眾盡十方世界是無憂樹。悉達太子即今下生。一手指天一手指地。諸人還見麼。乃云。天上天下惟吾獨尊。諸人還聞麼。如其不見不聞。本上座贏得𤍠瞞諸人去也。碧芙蕖紅芍藥。結成越樣華亭。黑斑豆赤沙糖。煎就異常香水。鼠尾巴短長。一尊佛相牛眼睛。大小一柄杓頭。普請諸人同時灌沐。喚作報德有德皆報。喚作酬恩無恩不酬。然報德酬恩且置之不問。只如二千年外九龍吐水所浴底與今日眾手所澆底。是同是別。若道同孤負釋迦。若道別孤負自己。且釋迦老子。黃金面具生鐵心肝。他管儞孤負不孤負。但是儞自己等閑孤負。則未免虛生浪死。極未來際安有解脫之期。為諸人這一念子不能瞥地。帶累這老漢。捨兜率降王宮。入母胎示人世。造妖捏怪大抹高揮。曲盡化儀老婆心切。豈謂諸人逗到今日轉增迷倒。沉酣憎愛結縛死生。孤負萬端不可枚舉。儞還知。三根椽七尺單。一鉢香炊九條田服。盡是這老漢積刦累世指天指地中流出。更不肯奮起一片决定不退轉正志󷘓身跳上破蒲團猛提起箇無滋味話一踏到底。豈更有別方便耶。今日這箇浴佛之杓柄。即是出生死險道之梯航。斬輪轉根株之劒刃。豈戲劇哉。况是寶爐散薝蔔之雲。蠟炬吐優曇之穗。梵音宣而雷動。森羅萬象共證圓聞。禪影移而雨傾。塵剎十方同躋正覺。所以云。未離兜率已降王宮。未出母胎度人已畢。直下安有一毫剩法與人為知為解涉見涉聞。雖然只如四月初八日已前。還有這箇消息也無。不因刖足曾三獻。那得連城價倍高。

> On the day of bathing the Buddha, I address the assembly: The entire ten directions of the world is the无忧 tree. Prince Siddhartha is being born right now. With one finger pointing to heaven and one finger pointing to earth, do you all see this? Then he said: Above heaven and below heaven, I alone am honored. Do you all hear this? If you do not see and do not hear, then this old monk has managed to fool all of you. Green lotuses and red peonies form a magnificent pavilion beyond compare. Black speckled beans and red granulated sugar are boiled into an extraordinary fragrant water. A mouse’s tail, long or short—a single Buddha image with ox eyes, one ladle, large or small—all are invited to bathe together. Call it repaying virtue: all virtue is repaid. Call it requiting kindness: no kindness is left unrequited. But setting aside repaying virtue and requiting kindness, what about the water poured by the nine dragons two thousand years ago and the water poured by many hands today—are they the same or different? If you say they are the same, you fail Shakyamuni. If you say they are different, you fail yourself. Moreover, this old Shakyamuni has a golden mask and an iron heart. Does he care whether you fail or not? But if you yourself casually fail, then you will inevitably live and die in vain. To the utmost limit of the future, when will there ever be a time of liberation? Because all of you cannot in a single thought suddenly awaken, you have dragged this old fellow down—he abandoned Tuṣita, descended to the royal palace, entered his mother’s womb, and appeared in the world, creating wonders and performing great sweeping gestures, exhausting all the ways of teaching with a grandmother’s tender heart. How could he have expected that all of you, having reached today, would only increase your confusion and delusion, steeped in aversion and attachment, bound by birth and death, failing in ten thousand ways beyond enumeration? Do you also know that three rafters and a seven-foot platform, a single bowl of fragrant rice, and a nine-strip field robe—all flow from this old fellow’s countless kalpas of lifetimes, pointing to heaven and pointing to earth. Yet you still refuse to rouse a single decisive, irreversible, right-minded thought, leap onto the worn-out cushion, fiercely bring up a tasteless phrase, and trample it to the bottom. How could there be any other skillful means? Today this ladle handle for bathing the Buddha is the ladder and boat that escapes the perilous road of birth and death, the blade that cuts the root of cyclic existence. How could it be a mere play? Moreover, the precious censer scatters clouds of sandalwood, wax torches emit udumbara blooms, Brahma sounds resound like thunder, and all phenomena together attest to perfect hearing. The shadow of Zen shifts and rain pours down; dust motes and lands throughout the ten directions together ascend to perfect enlightenment. Therefore it is said: Before leaving Tuṣita, already descended to the royal palace. Before leaving the womb, already finished saving beings. Right here, how could there be the slightest remaining dharma for people to know or understand, to involve seeing or hearing? Even so, just before the eighth day of the fourth month, is there still this news? If not for the foot being cut off and the jade offered three times, how could the value of the connected cities double in height?

## 天目中峯和尚廣錄卷第一之下

> The Extensive Record of Master Zhongfeng of Tianmu, Volume 1, Part 2

### 校訛

> Proofreading Corrections

-   乎

### 音釋罩

> Pronunciation Guide

陟教切自上籠下曰罩挫

> <note>Pronounced "zhi-jiao" (a phonetic guide); to cover from above and enclose below is called "zhao."</note> Frustrate

子臥切摧也鏟

> <note>pronounced "zi wo," meaning to destroy</note> shovel

初限切削也𩕳

> <note>First cutting limit.</note> Crown of the head.

乃挺切頂顛也汩

古忽切沒也鶻

胡骨切隼也撚

乃殄切搣指也囓

五結切噬也曳

以制切拖也醭

普木切白醭也掀

虛言切以手高舉也𨁝跳

𨁝蒲沒切跳他弔切燎

力弔切燒也聻

女氏切指物貌蟭螟

蟭茲消切螟菓經切蟭螟蟲名𠺕

力救切覷

七慮切伺視也捱

五佳切擺

補買切撥開也韙

羽鬼切羙乏之意嚗

必角切掇

丁括切餡

戶鑑切录

盧谷切拶

姊未切排也絆

博幔切縶也貶

側洽切目動也剩

實證切餘也孽

魚列切變怪也瞌

口答切眼瞌也拌

鋪官切弃也拽

羊列切拖也啻

施智切不啻不止如是也擉

測角切刺也倮

郎果切赤體也撼

戶感切搖動也厖

莫江切長也膂

力舉切脊也勦

子小切勞也瘵

側介切病也糝

蘇感切辣

盧達切麤辣也綴

株衛切連綴也儘

正作盡子忍切極也贏

> <note>The character is pronounced with the initial "j" and final "in," and it means "utmost."</note>Win

餘輕切輸之對也瞞炊

> <note>Pronounced like "yu qing qie," the opposite of "shu."</note>Deceive and cook.

昌垂切

> <note>Pronounced "chang chui"</note>