Recorded Sayings of Zen Master Shiqi of Xuedou, Volume 3
Compiled by Dharma Successor Xingzheng and Others
Venerable Su, please ascend the hall. "Yesterday, the rain poured down in torrents; this morning, the southern breeze brings its tune. The halls and pavilions grow cool—who can perceive it? Heaven and earth spin, mountains and rivers race, Mount Sumeru stands upside down. Facing south, I gaze at the North Star. Only one who is truly within this can act without distinction of before or after."
At that moment, a monk stepped forward and raised his sitting mat. The master took up his staff and struck him down.
Master Tong'an was commemorating the late lay practitioner Monan, and invited the assembly to the hall. A monk asked: "Before the empty kalpa, pointing is futile; after the empty kalpa, discussion is mistaken—is this so?" The master said: "Why bring it up?" The monk pressed: "Throughout the realm, not all plants are ordinary; on what mountain are the pines and cypresses not evergreen?" The master said: "Look behind you—who is there?" The monk said: "Wrong." The master then struck him, and said:
"Spring light is radiant, Spring mountains echo with birdsong. Spring breeze sways gently, Spring clouds drift apart. Spring warmth brings the fragrance of a hundred flowers, Spring chill brings frequent rain.
If you understand, lay down your weapons and rest; If you do not understand, corpses will lie for ten thousand miles.
Setting aside understanding or not understanding— How then do you speak of the iron ship sailing high? When you meet someone, simply present it like this."
The two monks, Mingyin and Mingyuan, brought the remains of their late teacher to the Universal Stupa and requested an assembly sermon.
"The radiant spirit shines alone, free from the senses and their objects. Once deluded conditions are left behind, one is Buddha as is. Do you all understand this? Let me share a further insight: The valley breeze is clear, the mountain moon bright, revealing a golden skeleton. Let it go with ease, and peace is found. Mahāprajñāpāramitā."
Winter Retreat Opening Assembly
The nineteenth day of the tenth month. Officers and leaders, we begin the retreat for meditation, Turning what is not into what is. The assembly cooks rice without grains, Simmers broth without moisture. Everyone lends a hand, Carrying firewood, moving timber—just as before. Hear the signal board, then move at once. Don’t fall behind, Lest others call you dull and slow. No long robes allowed, No wide sleeves to pull. Who permits idleness and quiet sitting to become a stale routine? The staff strikes the spine and gathers all in. The staff strikes the ground once. The assembly ends.
The master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "What is 'taking the person, not the environment'?" The master said, "Environment." "What is 'taking the environment, not the person'?" The master said, "Person." "What is 'taking both person and environment'?" The master said, "Both taken." "What is 'taking neither person nor environment'?" The master said, "Neither taken."
The monk pressed further, saying, "If so, then a thousand sages tread the same path." The master immediately struck him.
Then he said: "Midwinter's bitter cold— in heaven and on earth, clouds congeal, unmoving; drops of water freeze into clumps. Turtles shrink their necks from the chill; birds' beaks grow sharp with frost. The owl on the thatched roof dares not leap across the ridge; the stone guardian on the hill stands cold and silent, wordless. Only the pillar before the hall fares a little better— wind-blown, sun-scorched, it remains as it ever was.
It's laughable, you meditators— wrapped high in your robes, sitting in meditation, seeking the profound and wondrous, unwilling to break through directly, right here and now. Missing the vital point right before your eyes— you'll keep 'studying' till the year of the donkey!"
He struck the ground with his staff.
The summer solstice arrives, the sun's shadow shifts and moves. Yet this staff of mine remains unmoved and unchanged. It has pierced through the nostrils of each of you—do not even think of breathing out.
The Dharma Hall is built. Ascending the platform to thank the patrons. "In the twelfth month, the heart of winter, every day is a good day. At the tip of every blade of grass, the ancient Buddha's style is revealed; within a single hair's breadth, the jeweled king's realm appears. Truly, the great bodhisattva Samantabhadra wields the axe with the wind's ease, while Mañjuśrī pays no heed to the carpenter's line. Therefore it is said: 'To build a great hall is not the work of a single timber; to cross a great river is not the task of a single oar.' How much more so when the sun of wisdom hangs high and the banner of Dharma is raised anew? Yet tell me, after all, by whose gracious power is this accomplished? Do you fully understand? Clearly, it is the hand that lifts the cauldron and seasons the broth—the hand that turns the wheel of the Tathāgata's true Dharma." Descends from the platform.
The Master ascended the platform and said, "It is the fifteenth day of the twelfth month; the cold wind pierces like arrows." Then, calling to the assembly, he said, "Take care of your face."
On New Year's Day, during the morning assembly, a monk asked: "I won't ask about the pillar ascending the hall—but what about the lantern entering the room?"
The master said: "It's just like you."
The monk continued: "On New Year's Day, the new moon's face is brushed open; At the year's start, one shout pierces the heavenly gate."
The master said: "The pitch-dark bucket shines."
Then he called to the assembly and said: "In a year of three hundred and sixty days, today is the very first day. If you can speak the first phrase, then the year is new, the month is new, the day is new, every day new, every hour new, every moment new— new upon new, without dwelling.
Yet within this non-dwelling, heaven remains heaven, earth remains earth, mountains remain mountains, rivers remain rivers, monks remain monks, laypeople remain laypeople— not the slightest shift has occurred.
Thus it is said: 'The Dharma abides in its own place; the forms of the world are eternally present.'"
He gave a shout and said: "And here we begin again from the start."
The ninety-day retreat ends today, The knot of practice is undone by the staff in hand. To all disciples gathered here I say: Lay down your burdens now, and roam at ease.
Visiting Master Lumen at White Cloud Temple, General Zhu Yuandao requested a Dharma talk.
"Midway through the second month of spring, the renowned temple stands serene beyond the heavens. After the rain, the mountain hues dawn clear; everywhere, a subtle fragrance floats unseen. Peaks and ridges encircle, woods and summits interweave. The halls and pavilions, suddenly renewed, overflow with radiant light.
Here, there is no need to speak of mind or nature, to ask about host or guest, to debate what is profound or wondrous, what is movement or stillness. Set aside the sword that kills and the sword that gives life, place the secret talisman and the general's command to one side. Naturally, the grass bends with the wind, sound harmonizes with its echo. In a single thought of non-action, the ten directions are cut off.
But what of the phrase where person and environment correspond?" After a long pause, he said, "Do you understand? Seated deep within the white clouds, one receives the leisure of the valley."
I have come to Tian Tong Temple to visit Venerable Feiyin. The assembly requested that I ascend the teaching seat.
"Everyone! The matters of our lineage are clear before your eyes; the ancestral home is fully available for your use. Yet, there is still the need to point out the essential matter for a monk. Since my Dharma brother, the abbot, is present, I dare not presume to act upon my arrival. Why is that? I am not skilled at being a guest, and I would not wish to trouble my host."
Master Chuyang Minsheng, along with fellow Chan practitioners Shaochu, Jingkong, and Shengguang, requested the abbot to ascend the teaching seat. The abbot said: "Spring rain falls softly in the third month's sky, fallen blossoms and willow-lined banks are veiled in chilly mist. For those who understand, there is no need to point it out again and again—north of the river, south of the river, it's all the same."
Master Tiantong Feiyin has arrived. Ascending the hall, he said:
"The magpie chatters on the roof—a good omen heard for days. Surely a guest is coming; today, I am glad it is a fellow practitioner.
Since our fellow practitioner has arrived, host and guest are clearly distinguished. Words and laughter fill the sky with joy; a pure breeze envelops the earth.
Assembly, tell me: how shall we receive him? Do you understand?
Beating the drum and ascending the hall, we offer this simple provision. There is nothing else to surpass this humble offering."
Winter Retreat Opening Dharma Talk. A monk asked: "To forge with a single hammer blow is indeed a master's hand; to come when called is certainly sharp. I won't ask about snowflakes on a red-hot furnace, but what will the holy monks in the hall say?" The Master said: "There is a tiger on the western mountain." The monk advanced, saying: "If so, then it is the eternal moon in the emerald pool, known only after repeated attempts to grasp it." The Master then said: "Today is the sixteenth day of the tenth month. Compared to last year and the year before, it is a thousandfold, ten-thousandfold sufficient. Layman Luo Mengzhang has newly built for me a seven-bay Dharma hall, which can temporarily accommodate the assembly, and a few more thatched huts have been added to the quarters. The prior, guest prefect, and work leader have arranged accommodations in an orderly manner; above and below, inside and out, all is harmonious and solemn. The mountain fields yielded a modest harvest of late rice and early grain; no need for fasting methods, everyone has a full belly. Ha, ha, ha! How joyful. The officers and leaders, unwilling to rest content, further set a fixed period for the retreat, cutting flesh to cure a sore. Among the assembly, there is a fellow who, hearing this mountain monk speak thus, comes forth and shouts: 'Elder! Elder! You speak such words; set them aside on a high shelf for me. We left home precisely because we do not understand life and death, coming from hundreds, thousands of miles away to seek the ultimate Dharma. Not a single word of the Dharma is heard; all day long, striking the board, busy and bustling—if not carrying firewood and hauling earth, then grinding grain and pounding rice. The slightest hesitation brings thunderous scolding and beating. And now today, you speak such words! How are we junior later-born to find refuge?' This mountain monk says to you: 'Venerable! Venerable! If so, then this old monk is at fault.'" He thumped his staff and descended the seat.
The abbot was invited to ascend the hall and said, "On the third and twenty-seventh days of the month, there is no need to pick and choose. The moment you start picking and choosing, distinctions arise everywhere. Therefore, in all worlds, some use sound as the Buddha's work, some use light, some use adornments, and some use fragrant food as the Buddha's work. Today, at Xuedou Temple, there is a meal offering. Everyone is free to take it with your hand and eat it with your mouth, but you are not allowed to pick and choose. If suddenly your mouth bites your tongue, haha, laugh out loud. And what is it that you are laughing about? A good heart receives a good reward." He gave a shout.
The master ascended the platform and said, "Though the capital is bustling, my land is at peace." He lifted his staff and declared, "Do not say this staff is not at peace." Then, tapping it gently, he whispered, "Quietly, quietly."
The master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "I won't ask about the myriad distinctions and countless differences. Setting aside the direct blows and shouts for a moment, what is the realm of Xuedou?" The master said, "Six or seven thatched huts." "What about the person within that realm?" The master said, "Sitting or lying down, unaware of the cold." "What about the realm within the person?" The master said, "Look at your eyebrows." Then he said, "The short month ends on the twenty-ninth, the long month on the thirtieth. The cycle of the twelve months turns, and now it is again the first day. O practitioners of Chan, you must understand clearly—why plant thorns right before the door? Hah!"
The Master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "Snow blankets Chang'an, heaven and earth are one color—what, after all, is this clearly pointing to?" The Master said, "The neck bones shrink."
The monk pressed further, "What about returning to the root and grasping the essential meaning?" The Master said, "Bare bones on the ground."
The Master then said, "On the fifteenth day of the twelfth month, auspicious snow dances in the sky; the coming year will surely be abundant. Let everyone be joyful and pass through. Pass through, pass through, pass through—then you bump into Old Bodhidharma. Not to speak of Shaolin's news being present, a single cold light stretches through past and present."
Addressing the assembly, he said, "No need to stand long."
On New Year's Day, during the assembly, the master raised this case:
Xiangyan said: "Last year's poverty was not true poverty; this year's poverty is true poverty. Last year, I was so poor I had not a speck of land to plant an awl. This year, I am so poor I don't even have an awl."
Dongshan also said: "Last year's wealth was not true wealth; this year's wealth is true wealth. Last year, I was wealthy enough to have one dark, worn-out robe. This year, I am wealthy enough to add a patchwork mountain-and-water kasaya."
The master said, "Observe these two elders, each content with their own lot, holding to their proper place. Truly, they are as the saying goes: 'Poor yet not fawning, rich yet not arrogant.' Even so, they still have words hanging from their teeth. Xue Dou, however, is not like this. Last year's poverty was not poverty, this year's wealth is not wealth. Poverty and wealth have nothing to do with him. On the first day of the new year, he ascends the seat early."
At the end of the retreat, the master ascended the hall and said: "Before the fifteenth day, the lantern bows to the pillar; after the fifteenth day, the pillar bows to the lantern; on the very fifteenth day, the lantern is the lantern, the pillar is the pillar—each stands on its own side, with no connection whatsoever. Then, naturally, heavenly flowers scatter in profusion, golden lotuses emerge from the earth, and from each person’s face shines a great light, illuminating past and present."
Then he raised his staff and said: "Now tell me, is this present or past? Try to settle it. The moon in the ancient blue pond of empty space— only after dredging it up again and again will you truly know."
The master ascended the hall and said, "For days on end, snow and rain have chilled the ancestral hall; no one stands in the courtyard to ask a question. Is it that this mountain monk idly raises the topic? All of you, strive diligently—do not take it lightly. Therefore it is said: To cast the fragrant bait, one must wait for the great whale; even if there are small fish, there should be no expectation. Is there anyone among the assembly like this?" After a long pause, he said, "Today is a loss."
Magistrate Wu Xulai of Fengchuan, accompanied by his elder brother Tangri and Confucian scholar He Weihou, invited the Master to ascend the seat at the Maitreya Pagoda Monastery. A monk asked, "The laughing face of the past, the compassionate countenance of today—is there still a way to guide people?" The Master said, "Ask the walking staff." The monk pressed further, "When held firm, the land is peaceful; when released, the stars shift and the seasons change. After all, is it better to hold firm or to release?" The Master said, "Mind your steps."
Then he said, "Maitreya is truly Maitreya, manifesting in countless forms, constantly revealing himself to people, yet people themselves do not recognize him. Assembly, do you recognize him? If you do, then from the highest heavens to the deepest earth, across water, land, and sky, where clouds drift and birds fly, among humans, animals, grass, and dust—there is not one that is not a manifestation of Maitreya, expounding the Dharma. Why wait until the eastern edge of Enlightenment City to see Mañjuśrī, or until the pavilion gates open to meet the Compassionate One? Moreover, this Pagoda Monastery on Mount Feng is the very site where the Great Being manifested in full. Now, with its newly renovated halls and the mountain spirits shining brighter, Magistrate Wu Xulai, the great patron, has specifically instructed this mountain monk to ascend the seat here. In this gathering today, whether monk or layperson, man or woman, each of you sees with your eyes and hears with your ears—without difference, without distinction."
He struck the whisk and said, "After all, how can this be fully understood?" Then he cast it down and said, "The true message after Sudhana's departure remains vivid and real to this very day."
The Venerable Juehai finished reciting the sutra and requested a Dharma talk. "Cease, cease—no need to speak. My Dharma is wondrous and beyond thought. Those who are arrogant, upon hearing it, will surely not revere or believe." Raising the whisk, he said, "Do you believe?" Then he cast it down and left the seat.
At the assembly to commence the summer retreat, the master said: "Whether profitable or not, one never strays far from the marketplace. At the Snowy Peak monastery, we observe the summer retreat year after year. Seventy-three, eighty-four—whether the eastern shop sells cheap and the western shop sells dear, I will not ask about that. But you all! It is not mind, it is not phenomena, it is not Buddha—so tell me, what is it?"
The head monk gave a shout. The master struck the stand with his staff and said: "What's all this random shouting about?" Then he descended from the seat.
When the assembly at Tiantong Monastery requested the Dharma talk, the master cited this story:
"Yangqi, the old master, once addressed the assembly, saying: 'My blessings are thin, so I dwell at Yangqi; with each passing year, my strength wanes. The cold wind withers the fallen leaves, yet I rejoice that old friends return. Ha! Ha! Ha! My strength is indeed fading.'
"Virtuous ones! Do not recklessly brandish needles and awls. Since I, this mountain monk, am an unworthy descendant, I dare not deceive myself."
He struck his staff and said: "A sickly frame is best suited to a thatched hut; to lose advantage is to gain advantage."
He struck his staff once more and descended from the seat.
The winter solstice has arrived. Layman Yu requests a Dharma talk. "In the depths of winter's chill, the sun and moon fly like marbles. The first yang returns, three lines of heaven, six lines of earth." Raising the whisk, he said: "When it comes to this, why is it that when ten people are asked, five pairs do not know where to land?" Drawing a line with the whisk, he said: "Precisely because it is so utterly clear, it makes attainment all the more delayed."
Mr. Shi Xianchen, a lay devotee, has invited me to ascend the seat to offer prayers for his late father-in-law. The way of the Buddhas and patriarchs is straight as an arrow. Simply let go of all views of self and others, right and wrong, and you will naturally enter the unconditioned mind—a mind that, like the sky, covers all, and like the earth, supports all. It excludes not a single speck of dust, encompasses not a single moment, omits not a single being, and lacks not a single potential. Clear and vast, it spans all time, past and present.
It is only because we fail to realize this that a single deluded thought arises, grasping at some things and rejecting others. From this, countless complications emerge. We become entangled by them, losing our freedom. Throughout the day and night, we create karma driven by our attachments and then undergo the consequences of that karma. This leads to the endless cycle of rebirth in the six realms, rising and sinking without a moment's rest.
But if, in a single moment, you turn the light of awareness inward and cut off all thoughts at their root—realizing it is not mind, not matter, not Buddha; not enemy, not kin; not ordinary, not holy—then karmic burdens are utterly emptied. There is nothing to face, nothing to turn away from. As it is said: "When you realize, karmic obstructions are fundamentally empty. When you have not realized, you must repay your past debts."
Now, regarding the Venerable Kong Shixinggong, since his past debts have been repaid and he has attained realization, what more is there to say? (He strikes the whisk and says:) "Where a thousand peaks reach their limit, they rest at the mountain's edge. Where ten thousand streams converge, their sound dissolves into the sea."
The assembly gathered. "On a warm day that feels like rain, the plants and forests rejoice with delight. The southern mountains burn charcoal, the northern mountains glow red; behind the crown of the head, divine light stretches for thousands of miles. Just go forth like this. The local deity of the three-house village is but the king of non-turning wisdom—he deserves thirty blows of the staff. Now, why is this so? When you meet someone, do not speak carelessly."
On the Lantern Festival, during the morning assembly, the master said: "The bell tolls in the ancient temple, the moon shines in the clear pool. Beyond form, beyond name, neither sound nor sight.
If you go along with it just like this— everywhere green willows can tether a horse, every household’s gate opens straight to Chang’an.
If not like this, don’t linger— just look at the moon in the sky: where does it not shine full and round?"
Arriving at the Jiechuang Chan Monastery in Wumen, the Buddha hall was completed. Mr. Zhu Zhenhuan, seeking to repent for his father's transgressions, invited the master to ascend the hall and speak. "Green vines entwine, climbing straight to the top of the cold pine; white clouds drift, appearing and disappearing within the vast emptiness. This newly built Buddha hall, this pure monastery—its gates open wide, adorned with splendor—all of it is the very realm of one's own experience. If one can penetrate this completely, then clarity will be found everywhere, and the worldly and the transcendent will be no different. In an instant, the past and future are severed, and the three kalpas are empty. Then one shares the same experience, the same blessings and solemnity, as the Buddhas and patriarchs of old. In this state, not a trace of sin, karma, right, or wrong can be found—only the indestructible true nature, free and as-it-is. With this, what transgression cannot be repented? With this, what blessing cannot be gathered? To understand gathering blessings and repenting transgressions, it all lies right here."
Then he spoke a verse: "Gathering blessings and repenting transgressions—both are perfectly clear, The true nature shines like the autumn sun, bright and pure. If the benefactor Mr. Zhu does not yet know, I invite him to ask his own venerable father."
He gave a shout, and descended from the seat.
In the fifth month, deep in the mountains, rain falls, A gentle breeze cools the halls and pavilions. Right here, in this very place, Every sight is the light of the mind.
Thus it is said: The luminous spirit never dims, Its profound wisdom endures through the ages. Once you enter this gate, Let go of all intellectual understanding.
When understanding is set aside, The mountains of Yue and the waters of Wu grow clear. All things, without exception, are not separated by a single thread— Beneath your feet, the truth is most evident.
The novice monk has shaved his head and donned the robe, requesting the Dharma talk. The master cited an example: "Minister Cui Zhao asked Master Jingqin of Jingshan: 'Can this disciple leave home?' Jingqin replied: 'Leaving home is the great work of a true man, not something that generals or ministers can accomplish.' Upon hearing this, Minister Zhao was awakened." The master then said: "When the mind attains it, even the foul-smelling tree becomes sandalwood; when the meaning is lost, even sweet dew becomes a garden of thorns. Just look at the assembly before us—each wearing the square robe and shaved head, treading the earth and crowned by the heavens. Tell me, what is the great work of a true man? True spirit is not drawn from heaven or earth; how could heroes rely on the turning of seasons?"