Recorded Sayings of Chan Master Buhui, Volume 2

Disciples Yuancheng and Yuanxing compiled

In the eighth month of winter in the nineteenth year of the Kangxi reign, the civil and military officials, gentry, elders, and people of the county invited me to reside at Bishan Chan Monastery in Nanchong County, Shunqing Prefecture. Upon reaching the main gate, I said: "For years, I have fished in distant waters; today, I return to the source." With a shout, I added: "Here, mist and clouds gather even more thickly; schools of whales chase the scent of blood."

In the Buddha Hall, he said: "Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am honored. Now tell me, what kind of person is this?" With a thunderous shout, he then spread his robe and bowed three times.

On that day, the local gentry and scholars invited the Master to ascend the teaching seat. The Master approached the platform, took up the invitation, and said, "Every word is brocade, every character a pearl—upholding the ancestral seal, supporting the Dharma banner. In the tip of the brush, the supreme truth is fully revealed. I ask the Venerable Weinuo to read it aloud for the assembly."

The Master pointed to the Dharma seat and said, "Ascending the royal throne, all climbing ceases. If not a disciple who startles the crowd and conquers rivals, who could bear the sudden blow to the crown? Arriving here, this mountain monk takes another path: walking slowly, breaking the sound of flowing water; gazing afar, tracing the tracks of flying birds."

"This stick of incense, vast as the great void, bright as the blazing sun, is offered in the burner, dedicated to wishing His Majesty the Emperor a long life of ten thousand years upon ten thousand years. May the dragon chart endure forever, the phoenix calendar ever renew; may all eight directions pay tribute, and the four quarters sing of transformation."

"This stick of incense, reaching up to heaven, down to earth, neither ancient nor modern, is offered for all civil and military officials of the court, the bureaucrats of the realm, the provincial and regional authorities, the prefect of Shunqing, the magistrate of Nanchong, and every honored official. May your official stars shine as brightly as the sun and moon, ever upholding the burden of the Buddha."

"This stick of incense, encompassing past and present, containing the two realms, cannot be known by knowing, cannot be recognized by recognition, is offered for the gentry and scholars of this prefecture and county, the distant and nearby donors, the virtuous monks of all mountains, and the fourfold assembly present here. May you guard the Chan groves with high spirit, and forever join in fragrance as you support the ancestral way."

"This stick of incense, having endured countless dangers amid the ranks of spears and halberds, having traveled over twenty years to study under all quarters, finally met an old man of absolute severance who pierced me through the head, emptying me of poison. Since personally suffering that venomous hand, until now I cannot loosen its grip. Offered in the burner, it is dedicated solely to my root teacher, the thirty-fifth patriarch in the true lineage of Caoxi, the Venerable Poshan, in gratitude for the nourishment of Dharma milk."

Then he straightened his robes and took his seat. The leading monk struck the wooden block and said, "O assembly of dragons and elephants in the Dharma gathering, behold the supreme truth!"

A monk asked, "What is the realm of Green Mountain?" The Master said, "Ancient dragon scales on aged pavilion pines, how many times have they brushed emerald mist in the wind?"

The monk pressed, "What is the person within the realm?" The Master raised his whisk and said, "The mountain leans against heaven, forgetting its steepness; the whisk's shadow in the clear pond stirs a transforming dragon."

The monk asked, "When person and realm are not established—what then?" The Master gave a shout. The monk said, "Person and realm have been shown by the Master. Today the Buddha attained enlightenment, and today the Master enters the monastery and ascends the seat. Are they the same or different?" The Master said, "Adding frost upon snow." The monk said, "There's a slight difference." The Master said, "It's also a special occasion, arising without cause."

Then he said, "Hunger shrivels the withered gut, cold contracts the sinews; the morning star flashes—yet no person is formed. Barbarian words and Han speech, full of cunning and deceit, disturb the peace of humans and gods. So it is, but whose household does not know the road to Chang'an? Every brow is horizontal above the eye. You only know you rise at dawn, unaware there are others who never sleep. The starlight shines universally, uncovered; one round of wind and rain, one round of freshness. Over there, not sitting in the empty king's hall—who would till the fields facing the sun?"

The leading monk again struck the wooden block and said, "Behold the Dharma King's Dharma; the Dharma King's Dharma is thus." Then he descended from the seat. (Words of thanks are not recorded.)

The master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "What is the guest within the guest?" The master said, "Beyond the green mountains, there are travelers."

The monk pressed, "What is the host within the guest?" The master said, "The staff is alive like a dragon, everywhere protected by wind and clouds."

The monk asked, "What is the guest within the host?" The master said, "The great earth, mountains, and rivers—all are newly fresh."

The monk asked, "What is the host within the host?" The master said, "Amidst all phenomena, the solitary body is revealed."

Then he cited the case: Baizhang asked Guishan, "Setting aside throat, lips, and mouth, speak a word for me." Guishan said, "I ask the venerable master to speak instead."

The master commented: "Baizhang cuts the throat with a sharp blade; Guishan yields not an inch. If someone were to ask Bishan, 'Setting aside throat, lips, and mouth, show me a word,' this mountain monk would only say to him: 'Blue sky, blue sky.' If he still hesitates and ponders, I would add: 'Like oil poured on a blazing fire— the moon in the ancient, empty, emerald pool; only after fishing for it again and again will you understand.'"

The Diamond Assembly requests the Master to ascend the hall. The Master, with a mighty roar, declared: "A single roar, the Diamond manifests face to face, Turning the gates of emotion, meeting the highest potential. Throughout all realms, throughout all space—this very eye, When potential is forgotten and attachments dissolve, all is equal.

Cutting off sage and ordinary, shattering emptiness and existence, Why strain the ears and eyes to exhaustion? Abiding nowhere—profound and wondrous, Rabbit horns and tortoise hair are neither joined nor apart.

Seeking through form and sound betrays the master's grace, Abandoning the garden peach to chase wild plums. Breaking through appearances, transcending even before empty eons, All distinctions and differences are unified as one."

Again, he roared and said: "Unified as one—this very one stands firm at the gate. Now, I offer another verse: Who with form does not possess the Diamond? Trillions of worlds cannot conceal it. In the eye of a gnat, it cannot be contained, Yet humans and gods, with petty fruits, fret in vain."

He then cited the case: "Layman Pang asked the lecturer on the *Diamond Sutra*: 'With no self, no person—who lectures? Who listens?' The lecturer had no reply. The layman offered a verse: 'No self, no person—how can there be closeness or distance? I urge you to cease climbing the platform; Why not directly seek the truth? The nature of Diamond Prajñā— Beyond the slightest speck of dust. I hear and accept in faith— All are but provisional names.'

From Bishan's perspective: Layman Pang could probe the vital point, Striking the throat to kill— Though he forced a living snake to transform into a dragon, What of the severing of all sentiment? The lecturer, before the assembly of humans and gods, At the place where words fail— Could not help but feel his heart in turmoil, Dazed and confused, drenched in cold sweat, Face full of shame and panic, Wanting to speak but unable, Wanting to swallow but stuck. Call it gold—yet in this age, people scorn it, So they do not call it gold. Who would willingly deceive themselves? It is only that they do not know how to turn around and breathe freely, Content to be a lecturer, Counting others' treasures while devaluing their own.

If someone today asks Bishan: 'Who lectures? Who listens?' I would only say: 'The tongueless one lectures without cease, The earless one listens without end.' And how is this proven? I offer another verse: In Yellow Crane Tower, a jade flute plays, Over River City, plum blossoms fall in the fifth moon. Alas, they do not enter the deaf one's ears— In vain, the western mountain sun sets once more."

He gave a shout, threw down the whisk, and descended from the seat.

Opening the furnace, establishing the retreat, ascending the hall. "It is inherently complete and present—what need is there for contrivance? Setting long or short deadlines still creates a gap as vast as heaven and earth. Trying to dispel dullness or scatter enemies only adds further deluded thought. Right here, see clearly and step onto your native ground. As it is said: 'When body, speech, and mind are pure, this is called the Buddha appearing in the world; when body, speech, and mind are impure, this is called the Buddha entering nirvana.' I now assure you of this matter—it will never be in vain."

A question was asked: "What is this matter?" The Master struck [the questioner] repeatedly and said: "Inside a thousand-year-old peach pit, there is still the same person from of old."

"Then how should one maintain and uphold it?" The Master said: "Just when a faint melody seems worth hearing, it is blown away by the wind into another tune."

He then brought up an example: "A monk once asked Langya: 'Since it is originally pure and clear, how do mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?' Langya replied: 'Since it is originally pure and clear, how do mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?'"

The assembly asked again: "Since it is originally pure and clear, how do mountains, rivers, and the great earth suddenly arise?" The Master raised his voice and said: "The words are reasonable—a wise person decides for themselves."

He then added a verse: The pillar in the womb seems without feeling, Yet suddenly flowers bloom and the world forms. Laughable is the guest with no name, no abode— Flowers bloom, flowers fade, a single speck of dust. A thousand sages—where have they gone? A sword against the sky presses cold upon all."

The master ascended the hall and raised a case: "A monk asked the Fifth Patriarch, 'The entire Buddhist canon is like a phonetic spelling. I wonder, which word is being spelled?' The Patriarch replied, 'Prajñā.'"

The master said, "Although this monk skillfully asked about the vital point, he was like someone who doesn't recognize a harsh taste. The Fifth Patriarch, before the assembly of humans and gods, found it difficult to avoid the question, so he could only say 'Prajñā.' If someone today were to ask me, 'I wonder, which word is being spelled?' I would simply tell them, 'Spell.'"

Then, making a gesture of fear, he threw down his staff, descended from the seat, and walked back into his quarters.

The magistrate of Sheyi, Lord Dingquan Yang, together with the gentry, established a Ullambana assembly and invited the master to ascend the hall at the Doushuai Hall. The master approached the seat and, with his staff, drew a circle, saying: "The supreme wondrous Way cannot be fathomed by the two vehicles. When the true command is fully raised, gratitude is repaid and virtue acknowledged. With a single mighty shout, the iron tree blossoms, and the sky is filled with stars and moon." He then ascended, took incense, and said: "This stick of incense—the sun and moon cannot compare to its brightness, heaven and earth cannot match its vastness. Lifted and burned in the incense burner, it becomes formless and traceless. Offered to the Holy Emperor of the Mid-Year, relying solely on great compassion, may we always receive silent protection."

A monk asked: "What is the first mystery?" The master said: "Huangmei overturning the bottomless boat." The monk pressed: "What is the second mystery?" The master said: "Grinding a brick to make a mirror, shattering the family home." The monk pressed again: "What is the third mystery?" The master said: "Roll up the mat and let everyone see."

The monk asked: "What is the first essential?" The master said: "A single arrow pacifies the nation, ending all clamor." The monk pressed: "What is the second essential?" The master said: "No night travel allowed—arrive by dawn." The monk pressed again: "What is the third essential?" The master said: "When autumn comes, the paulownia leaves fall of themselves."

The master then said: "Raised in the bright light, it pervades heaven and earth. Summoning back the withered tree's dragon song, fully revealing the spring colors behind the head. The wooden boy chews through ice in the fire; the stone maiden turns empty, walking barefoot. Solely raising the white staff transcends all streams; severing emotional dust—what remains then? If you realize it at the point where feelings are forgotten and things transformed, on the summit of Golden Flower Mountain there is not an inch of ground, and in the depths of the great river not a drop is seen. Precisely at such a time, all ancestral relatives have already attained Buddhahood; the karma of countless lifetimes disintegrates like ice melting. So it is said: the body is provisionally composed of the four elements; the mind is originally unborn, arising due to conditions. If the preceding conditions are absent, the mind is also absent; sin and merit are like illusions, arising and ceasing. At this stage, heaven and hell are merely empty names; good and evil, fortune and misfortune have nowhere to settle. Thus, even the withered guts that the old man of Snow Mountain exhausted himself to express were entrusted to kings, ministers, officials, and lay practitioners to uphold and protect the true Dharma. Fortunately, there are faithful officials who, undaunted by the burdens of official duties, still remember the injunction from Vulture Peak. Specifically choosing the Mid-Year period for the remission of sins, they respectfully donate their salaries to make offerings to the Buddha and feed the monks, earnestly requesting this mountain monk to ascend the curved-wood seat. I can only open wide the eight characters, fully revealing myself, further witnessing the officials' sincere loyalty and deep filial piety, stern as ice and frost, laboring with a nurturing heart, joining with the assembly in utmost effort. May everyone enjoy peace without trouble; may every household flourish in harmony. Together, may all ancestral spirits share in the remaining blessings. Now, how to speak a phrase of repaying kindness? A single banner directly delivers to the land of the unborn; the true wind universally fans spring across the ten continents."

He then descended from the seat.

On the Lantern Festival, General Chen of the Sacred Enterprise made offerings to repay kindness and pray for descendants, inviting the Master to ascend the hall. After the Master finished offering incense, a monk asked:

"Before ascending the seat, it was watertight and impenetrable; after ascending, it's not worth hearing. What is the phrase about the return of the yang energy and all things being renewed?"

The Master said: "The red sun shines, opening a new atmosphere."

The monk pressed: "Before mountains and rivers stand and all phenomena manifest, what realm is this?"

The Master said: "Universal."

Another asked: "I won't ask about the meaning of Bodhidharma coming from the West. Today, General Chen repays his parents—what method does the Master instruct?"

The Master said: "Beyond the joyful spring breeze, soaring in the transforming sunlight."

The monk pressed: "Where does the General's late father find his place?"

The Master said: "One moon universally reflects in all waters."

A literary scholar asked: "A monk was struck dead by a teacher's staff over the words 'birth and death,' and now cries out in suffering from the tip of the staff. How can the Master save him?"

The Master said: "If you cannot directly transcend the mysterious lock, you will inevitably be hindered by mountains and rivers before your eyes."

Then the Master said:

"A single red heart penetrates past and present, Full of loyalty and filial piety, even grass and trees turn to spring. Dragon lanterns vie at the forehead, flowering trees leave the dust, Fire sprays in people's faces, painfully killing Guanyin. Wooden children clap hands, stone maidens play flutes, On coral branches, the moon is full at midnight. Mountains of knives and forests of swords transform into fragrant groves, Heavenly officials bestow blessings, early sending the unicorn. Just this one point is the root of heaven and earth, Neither separate nor united, parents through endless ages. Harmonious yet not drifting, serving as ruler and minister. Turning back to hear the nature of hearing—it is not the ear that hears. What thing is this? It is the lamp that illuminates the world."

Raising his whisk, he said:

"Fully grasping the mani pearl, face-to-face I cast it; Only those who know kindness are those who repay kindness. Tell me, where does Guanyin find her place? Shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, drunk in crowds, Midnight songs and flutes support them home."

Then he cited:

"Bodhisattva Wuzhuo asked Sudhana, 'I wish to personally see Manjushri—which one is he?' Sudhana said, 'The moment you give rise to a single thought of purity, that is him.' Wuzhuo said, 'I gave rise to a thought—why don't I see him?' Sudhana said, 'You are truly seeing Manjushri.' From this mountain monk's perspective, the question still clings to seeing, not yet forgotten; the true is not yet extinguished—shamelessly unaware. The answer is like calling for tea through a curtain, or like a dragon hidden in dead water—having substance but no function. Both miss the mark. Today, if someone asks Great Dharma Protector Chen, 'Your late father is in the hall—how does your mother see him?' Tell him: 'Washing the face, shrinking the body, elbows exposed, Come straight and go shaking off, Looking at mulberry and hemp north and south of the mountain, Eating salt, equally salty—not the tongue or mouth.'"

He descended from the seat.