Recorded Sayings from Wanfu Chan Monastery on Huangbo Mountain, Fuqing County, Fuzhou Prefecture, Fujian

On the fourteenth day of the fifth month in the tenth year of the Chongzhen reign, Imperial Censor Lin, along with local gentry Lin Zongzhen and Lin Chaolong, scholars Lin Jingtai, Lin Shouwen, Lin Bochun, Lin Zhengli, Xia Chunhui, Gong Shilong, Wu Chengqi, Lin Maohui, Lin Shilong, Lin Dingxin, Lin Maozhi, Lin Tingdong, and others, together with both monastic and lay followers, invited the master to reside at Wanfu Chan Monastery on Mount Huangbo. He entered the monastery on the first day of the tenth month.

At the mountain gate, he said, "From ancient times, the idle gates and broken doors have all been flung wide open at once. Now tell me, where is the key pivot?" He gave a shout and entered.

In the Buddha Hall, he said: "Majestic and grand, sitting in stillness across the ten directions—at just such a moment, it would be fitting to give thirty blows of the staff. Why? Have you not heard it said: 'Chop down the laurel in the moon, and the pure light will shine even brighter.'"

The Hall of Sangha Guardians asked: "Establishing the Three Jewels is one thing, but how do we truly revitalize the family tradition?" Raising the incense, he said: "Each time we lift it up, it feels fresh and new."

In the Ancestral Hall, he said: "In the West, twenty-eight patriarchs—eyes horizontal, nose vertical. In the East, twenty-three masters—murmuring in their sleep, bewildering the people of the world without end. Today, this unworthy descendant captures them alive and burns them all in a single furnace."

The abbot said, "Shutting the door and remaining silent—this has caused no small amount of trouble. Throughout time, all the old masters have filled heaven and earth with their teachings, yet not even a shrimp can leap out of a bushel measure. What will you do now, Venerable Qi?"

Suddenly, he raised his staff, drew a line in the air, and said, "Broken, broken!" Then he threw down the staff and said, "I release a whole group of old sharp ones. Let those who have not yet attained realization take a look."

On this day, the assembly requested the Master to ascend the Dharma seat. The Master approached the seat, took up the invitation letter from the lay devotee Lin Gong, and said, "This very thing shatters all barriers, penetrates the source of the Dharma, and leaves this mountain monk with nowhere to hide. Today, I cannot avoid expounding it for the assembly. I trouble the Weinuo to read it aloud."

After it was read, the Master pointed to the Dharma seat and said, "This precious kingly seat reveals the true essence. Today, I shall take one step further, leaving all sages standing below." He then ascended the seat and, offering incense, said, "This stick of incense, burning in the incense burner, is offered for the long life and peace of His Majesty, the Emperor. May the imperial rule be secure, the reign long and prosperous, his lifespan equal to the city of mustard seeds, and the true Dharma spread throughout the kalpa of rubbing stone. This stick of incense is offered for all civil and military officials throughout the court and the esteemed officials of the prefectures and counties. May their ranks be elevated and their virtuous influence spread far and wide. This stick of incense is offered for the great patrons of this mountain and all the lay protectors. May they together illuminate the true cause of prajñā and realize the solid essence of vajra. This stick of incense—does the assembly understand? In the past, I stumbled here; today, I pull up the root here. Burning it in the incense burner, it is dedicated to the Venerable Feiyin Rong, the thirty-fifth generation transmitter of the authentic lineage of Caoxi, presently residing at Fatong Temple in Yongjia County, Wenzhou Prefecture, Zhejiang, in gratitude for the nourishment of the Dharma milk." He then adjusted his robe and took his seat.

The leading monk struck the gavel and said, "For the assembly of dragons and elephants in this Dharma gathering, contemplate the supreme meaning."

The Master said, "The supreme truth—the Buddhas of the three times have no place to fix their eyes. How will all of you contemplate it? Try to leap out and see."

A monk bowed.

The Master said, "The imperial decree points to the flying dragon horse, and the lame turtle sticks out its head."

A monk asked, "The Jetavana has been ancient from the start, and this Dharma seat continues to this day. May I ask, does the Master have something that is eternal, from ancient times to the present?"

The Master said, "Sitting fixed, cutting off heaven and earth."

The monk bowed.

The Master immediately struck him.

A monk asked, "Huangbo's family style is old, but today the command is renewed. What is the new command?"

The Master raised his whisk and said, "Do you understand?"

The monk shouted.

The Master said, "Shout again."

The monk shouted again.

The Master immediately struck him.

A monk asked, "With the first signs of spring, the Dharma seat opens for the third time. What will the Master now show the assembly?"

The Master took his whisk and swept it once to the left.

The monk pressed, "Is this the Master's way of guiding people?"

The Master swept it to the right.

The monk bowed and said, "Thank you, Master, for the instruction."

The Master said, "What instruction?"

The monk shouted.

The Master said, "Fortunately, it has nothing to do with it."

A monk asked, "To grasp it before words is to disgrace the ancestral style. To undertake it after the phrase is to bury the family treasure. Right at such a moment, where should this learner grope?"

The Master said, "An iron ox blocks the ancient road."

The monk pressed, "I did not come especially to present an old face. What about following the flow with a single phrase?"

The Master threw down his whisk.

The monk said, "A good daughter does not wear her wedding clothes." He then turned around.

The Master immediately struck him.

Then he said, "Before the staff has even pointed, it is fully revealed throughout the world. With the nostrils hanging down, the whole body is exposed. If you can directly undertake it with your whole being, you instantly surpass all Buddhas and patriarchs. If you cannot, this mountain monk will pour a second ladle of foul water on all of you."

He raised his whisk and said, "If you open a single path here, you can shine through heaven and earth, illuminate past and present, and be thoroughly penetrating on this side and that. Then you can wield the great tongs and hammer, apply the great function, crush the crowns of Buddhas and patriarchs, and overturn the handles of monks. Sometimes standing alone on the solitary peak, sometimes leaping at the tips of the hundred grasses—not here, not there—with a single, even heart, utterly without attachment, vast and expansive, filling the entire universe, clearly pervading the ten directions. Right at such a moment, how can we speak of sharing in the joy of peace and prosperity? The old rustic does not know the power of Yao and Shun; he just beats the drum and offers sacrifices to the river god."

He then brought up a story: "The Second Patriarch, Ananda, asked Kāśyapa, 'Besides the golden robe, what else did the World-Honored One transmit?' Kāśyapa called, 'Ananda!' Ananda responded. Kāśyapa said, 'Take down the flagpole in front of the gate.' Ananda had an awakening."

The Master said, "Kāśyapa exerted all his effort to guide him, only to take down the flagpole in front of the gate. Tell me, what did Ananda realize? Today, this mountain monk will not use 'how' or 'what.' Brothers, each of you, take down the flagpole in front of your gate. However, putting it down is easy; setting it back up is difficult. Is there anyone who can set it back up? If not, this mountain monk will set it up himself."

He struck his staff and said, "Setting up the fallen flagpole requires not the slightest effort. It stands again before the gate, clear and distinct through the ages."

He struck his staff and descended from the seat.

The abbot ascended the platform for an assembly. A monk asked, "What is 'complete lifting'?" The master raised his fist and said, "Is this complete lifting or half lifting?" The monk shouted. The master struck him and said, "Exchanging blows and shouts is not without meaning, but what is the true intention?" The monk shouted again. The master drove him straight out of the Dharma hall.

Then the master said: "In the realm of ultimate truth, not a single speck of dust is accepted. In the gate of Buddha's work, not a single dharma is abandoned. To raise the banner of Dharma and establish the school's purpose, you must be like brothers who penetrate to the bone, supporting each other like arms and elbows. Those who understand the way should mutually verify it. Seek the Way, not food; for the sake of Dharma, forget your body. When words meet in mutual understanding, it remains unchanged for a thousand ages. Like space merging with space, like water poured into water. Originally there is no different color, how could there be a different name? If each of you can be like this, I dare guarantee every matter will be accomplished. The street manager takes charge amidst the worldly dust; the guest prefect receives and guides visitors; the kitchen supervisor skillfully satisfies everyone's tastes; the treasurer handles income and expenditure clearly; the supervisor of monks upholds the rules and discipline; the elder abbot cuts through iron and nails decisively. And what about the 'person of no rank'—what does he grasp? Do you understand? If you take his hand to lead him, he won't go; only when one willingly accepts it oneself does one truly draw near."

He then descended from the seat.

The master ascended the hall to open the winter meditation session. He said: "From all directions, we gather together; each one learns the way of non-action. This is the field for selecting Buddhas; with an empty mind, you pass the exam and return. Is there anyone here with an empty mind who has passed the exam? Please step forward and show yourself."

A monk had just bowed when the master said, "I knew it would be you."

Someone asked: "The great roc spreads its wings across the heavenly road; selecting Buddhas and officials should honor the ancestral seat. Today the examination hall is open—am I permitted to announce the top candidate?"

The master said: "A toad with a marked forehead."

The questioner continued: "The Dragon Gate has nine layers; I am fortunate to receive the mark on my forehead."

The master said: "Drowned in stagnant water."

The monk shouted; the master immediately struck him.

Another asked: "Striking the board to sit in meditation, beating the drum to ascend the hall—all are just this. Why is it said: 'The ancient blue pond, the moon in empty space; only after fishing it up again and again do you truly know'?"

The master said: "Watch your step."

The questioner said: "I've bumped into it and collided with it."

The master said: "Where are you going?"

The monk let out a sigh; the master pushed him away.

Then he said: "The new elder has just opened the furnace; its fierce flames blaze to the heavens—who dares touch it? If you try to step forward, your body is already lost; how can you look back and hesitate further? Straw sandals and staffs tossed aside; meditation boards and sitting mats—wasted effort. Pick up the great meaning from the West; put down the gourd on the eastern wall. Overturn the nest of right and wrong; cut off the heads of reward and transformation Buddhas. For no reason, you lose the nose you were born with; in heaven and among humans, it cannot be grasped. Right at such a moment, is there still a place to help others? Cut white clouds into flying fragments; overturn the bright moon, falling into every home."

He added: "Hold tight the mouth of the sack; Mount Sumeru turns upside down. At noon, strike the third watch; facing south, look at the North Star. If you still ask 'how,' a white staff strikes your spine. If you turn around right below, you’ve already fallen behind him. And how do you speak without falling behind others?"

Suddenly raising his whisk, he said: "Only this one thing—throughout ancient and modern times, nothing covers it."

He gave a shout and descended from the seat.

The master ascended the platform. A monk asked, "Speech is not silence, yet it is also not non-speech and non-silence. Please speak one phrase." The master said, "Block the throat." As the monk hesitated, the master struck him and said, "Is this speech or silence?" The monk was speechless. The master then spat and said, "Today is the first day of the eleventh month. Every nose is straight. The hundred thousand immeasurable Dharma gates—" He struck his staff and said, "—all enter here in an instant. If you understand, you can pick them up at will to fill gullies and block valleys. If you don't understand, just leave them by the side of Ninth Brother's field, to be blown by the wind and scorched by the sun."

He then brought up an example: "Monk Shuiliao once asked Mazu, 'What is the great meaning of Bodhidharma's coming from the West?' Mazu knocked him down with one kick. Shuiliao got up, laughed heartily, and said, 'The hundred thousand Dharma gates and immeasurable wondrous meanings—all are understood by recognizing their source in a single hair-tip.' How splendid! How splendid! Not only was Shuiliao like this, but even the thousand sages and ten thousand saints must personally realize and awaken on this single hair-tip before they dare to face others and guide them directly. Have all of you here today truly realized this? If you have, then in every moment of the day, each step carries the meaning of manifestation, and every act reveals the path of liberation. If not, there is still another skillful means to help you realize entry." He struck his staff and said, "Do you understand? Without the strength to lift a cauldron or uproot a mountain, even a thousand-mile steed cannot be ridden easily." He then descended from the seat.

On the Winter Solstice, the Master ascended the hall. A monk asked: "How can one topple a silver mountain and an iron wall?" The Master thrust forward and said: "They are already toppled." The monk pressed: "How can one leap over the raging waves at the rapids?" The Master struck him with a stick. The monk pressed further: "How can one advance from the top of a hundred-foot pole?" The Master said: "Step back." The monk asked: "How can one turn around on the summit of a thousand peaks?" The Master said: "You try turning around and see." The monk turned around, and the Master immediately struck him.

The kitchen steward asked: "Chanting the Buddha's name aloud is not true mindfulness; silently reciting Amitabha is not true mindfulness. What then is true mindfulness?" The Master said: "A broken wooden ladle." The monk bowed. The Master said: "Give me back my wooden ladle." The monk was silent. The Master then struck him.

He then said: "If you wish to understand the meaning of Buddha-nature, observe the season and conditions. When the season arrives, the principle reveals itself. Now tell me, what season is this right now? Is it the season when this mountain monk shouts 'Ho!'? Is it the season when the first yang returns? If you understand it in this way, you still haven't escaped ordinary views. If you don't understand it this way, you'll inevitably fall into pits and trenches. Without involving the two extremes or the middle, come up with a single phrase! If you can, I'll allow you to enter Huangbo's gate and share in praising Huangbo. Is there anyone? Is there anyone?"

A monk said: "A fierce tiger blocks the path." The Master said: "Still an outsider."

He continued: "Sacred names and ordinary labels are all empty sounds; splendid forms and inferior shapes are nothing but illusory appearances. If we speak of the original, fundamental, primordial point of one's own being, you must cut it off completely before your parents were born, before yin and yang were divided—a point where ancestors and Buddhas cannot praise, where gods and humans find no door to gaze upon. Seeking life and death, names and labels, none exist. Where then can seasons and conditions be found? Those who know this, hearing such words, will penetrate to the bone and marrow. Those who do not know this may still be lost in the vastness of deluded consciousness. Nevertheless, though the official gate does not allow a needle to pass, why not privately let carriages and horses through?"

Suddenly raising his staff, he said: "Bare bones, exposed and clear, washing heaven and earth with a forest of frost. Where there is spirit, add spirit; where there is no scenery, there is still scenery." He thumped his staff and descended from the seat.

**For the Longevity Dharma Assembly, the Master Ascended the Dharma Hall.**

A monk asked, "Layman Pang said, 'Everyone gather in a circle and speak the wordless Dharma.' What is the wordless Dharma?"

The Master said, "You deserve thirty blows."

The monk advanced, saying, "I've seen through Layman Pang."

The Master said, "Where have you seen through him?"

The monk covered his face with his hand and said, "Heavens! Heavens!"

The Master struck him and said, "I won't let you off."

Another asked, "What is the indestructible diamond body?"

The Master raised his foot and said, "Is this destructible or not?"

Then he said, **"Fling open the Eye of the True Dharma, and all directions are clearly illuminated; reveal the original body, and it stands alone between heaven and earth. In the wondrous, there is wonder—an arrow shot from a taut bowstring. Within the sublime, there is excellence—adding flowers to brocade. Only a wondrous person can understand sublime matters; only sublime matters can reveal a wondrous person. At this very moment, what serves as proof?"**

He struck the left side of the incense table with his whisk and said, **"Is this not a wondrous person?"** He then struck the right side and said, **"Is this not a sublime matter? If, right here, you can trust it, take charge, hold it firm, and let it go, then you share the same breath with all Buddhas of the three times, share the same root with all beings of heaven and earth, and manifest the same body as mountains, rivers, and the great earth. There is no duality, no separation, no distinction, no interruption. Thus, without seeking the sublime, the sublime arrives of itself; without preparing a bridge, the bridge appears before you. Cultivating blessings with this, what blessing is not attained? Extending life with this, what life is not celebrated? Now, for this feast of celebration and praise, what words shall we offer?"**

**"The sheer cliffs stand steep and majestic for a thousand ages; the forested peaks remain verdant and fresh for ten thousand springs."**

He tapped his staff and descended from the seat.

The master ascended the hall. A question was asked: "In the past, Master Yaoshan said to the novice monk Gao, 'There are many who do not receive the precepts and also do not become Buddhas. I wonder, what kind of people are these?'" The master raised his staff and struck it once on the left side.

The questioner continued, "But what kind of eye did that novice monk possess, to say, 'What use are the Buddha's precepts?'" The master struck his staff once on the right side.

The questioner said, "Today, this student does not speak in that way."

The master asked, "Then what do you say?"

The questioner replied, "One should uphold the precepts and practice diligently."

The master struck him and said, "I only want to wipe it all away."

Another question: "What is 'taking away the person but not the environment'?"

The master said, "At the wild crossing, no one is there—the boat drifts on its own."

The questioner asked, "What is 'taking away the environment but not the person'?"

The master said, "Stepping across the long river, the moon is a single wheel."

The questioner asked, "What is 'both person and environment taken away'?"

The master set down his staff.

The questioner asked, "What is 'neither person nor environment taken away'?"

The master said, "Catch fish, buy wine—everyone gets drunk."

The questioner said, "The person and the environment have been shown by the master. What about when the person is forgotten and the environment is still?"

The master said, "Recognize it for yourself."

Then he said, "Before the Hall of Ten Thousand Blessings, peaks rise steeply; by the Nine Dragon Tree, the stream murmurs softly. In the sky, the sun rises and the moon sets; among the woods, clouds come and go. Even the worlds as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, every blade of grass and every grove, have each imprinted your own face for all of you. O fellow practitioners of Chan! Have you found your own nostrils yet? If you have found them, right now they are solitary and lofty, round and vibrant—like a dragon finding water, like a tiger leaning against a mountain. Then you can return mountains, rivers, and the great earth to yourself, and scatter yourself to become the great earth, mountains, and rivers. On the tip of a single hair, manifest a jeweled king's land; sitting within a speck of dust, turn the great wheel of Dharma. This is the self-realized realm of the individual—it is not borrowed from any other method. And how would you express this self-realized realm in a single phrase? What falls is not another thing; what moves freely is not dust."

He gave a shout and descended from the seat.

The master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "With a single blade thrust straight in, allowing no hesitation or deliberation—what is that like?" The master struck him and said, "I'm just carrying out this command." The monk shouted. The master struck him again. The monk said, "Where the elephant king walks, no fox tracks remain." The master simply struck him and drove him out.

Then he said, "Once a poor family's child, now one beyond the elephant's realm. Every head is cut off, every passage is opened. Huangbo cools the heart, plum blossoms fresh to the eye. Sage and ordinary have no fixed form—playing at falsehood becomes truth. Today, this mountain monk has recklessly pissed and shit in the village of three families. Looking back carefully, it's also hard to forget old habits. If anyone in the assembly smells the stench, feel free to grab shit and splash it—turn the great Dharma wheel within the shit-stick, perform great Buddha deeds, letting all under heaven know this scent. Wouldn't that be wonderful? If not, then I'll go shit upside down on the solitary peak's summit instead. Huangbo blows the jade flute sideways, the old recluse of Donglin sings. A stretch of high mountains and flowing water—what can the traveler on the road do? Ha, ha, ha! Do you understand? If there's a guest from south of the river in this seat, don't sing the partridge song before the wine cup."

He then descended from the seat.

On the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, the master ascended the hall. A question was asked: "Buddhas transmit to Buddhas, ancestors succeed ancestors. But tell me, how does the formless one transmit and receive?" The master said: "Call him to come forward." The questioner said: "I am going." The master said: "Where are you going?" The questioner said: "He has his own path to the heavens." The master said: "A good thirty blows right under your heels." Then the master said: "Old Man Śākyamuni, at midnight, saw the star and awakened, saying: 'How wondrous, how wondrous! All living beings possess the wisdom and virtuous marks of the Tathāgata, but due to deluded thoughts and attachments, they cannot realize it.' This too is doting on one's child without noticing the ugliness—inevitably splitting speech into two parts. At midnight, Huangbo raised the temple banner; everyone is right here within it. There is no wisdom or virtuous mark to realize, nor are there deluded thoughts or attachments to be obtained. Tell me, how far apart is this from Old Man Śākyamuni? If there is anyone with the eye of discernment, come forth and judge." The assembly offered responses, but none were fitting. Again he said: "In the past, the World-Honored One ascended to the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven to preach the Dharma for his mother. What Dharma did he preach?" Suddenly raising his whisk, he said: "It is just this. Today, this mountain monk, without moving from the fundamental ground, speaks of Chan for all the elders. What Chan is spoken of? It is just this. And what is this? For the superior person, one decisive act resolves everything; the middling and inferior, though hearing much, mostly do not believe. If we speak of this matter, it is truly like an eighty-year-old man entering the examination hall—it is genuinely not child's play. Today, fortunate to meet with family members, I speak family words, hold up a family object, and show it to family people. Call it a whisk and you touch it; do not call it a whisk and you turn away. You must not be silent, you must not have words, you must not shout, you must not flick your sleeves and leave. If you can find the right measure here, I permit you to enter Huangbo's gate, see Huangbo's people, and share the same branch and breath with Huangbo, connected like limbs. Otherwise, you are all outsiders circling outside—to see even a hair of Huangbo is greatly difficult. Men of true mettle, do not let others deceive you. If you try to involve thought, you delay by eight moments; turn your head and look back—the pass of white clouds." He gave a shout and descended from the seat.

The Master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "What is the Guest within the Host?" The Master said, "Clearly evident, with something to rely upon." "What is the Host within the Guest?" The Master said, "Taking up the staff, visiting the western neighbor." "What is the Guest within the Guest?" The Master said, "Beyond the green mountains, dust and smoke arise." "What is the Host within the Host?" The Master raised his staff. The monk bowed. The Master said, "Where have the Guest and Host gone?" The monk shouted. The Master immediately struck him.

Then he said, "Everywhere they discuss Zen and expound the Way. Huangbo earnestly admonishes, 'Do not do this or that, and naturally the sea will be calm and the rivers clear.' Be careful not to drown in stagnant water; how can one pursue it in the vast and boundless? And if we don't do any of this, after all, what then? If the waves at Caoxi are all alike, countless ordinary people will be submerged."

He then cited an ancient worthy: "If you have a staff, I will give you a staff. If you do not have a staff, I will take your staff away." If you already have a staff, what use is it to have one? If you do not have a staff, how can it be taken away? If you truly understand this, you may stride alone through the crimson clouds and roam freely under heaven. Yet even this is not enough. Now listen to this mountain monk's footnote: If you do not share the same bed, how can you know the quilt is torn?

He then recited a verse: No reason at all, no reason at all, White clouds stretch and roll atop the blue peaks. When there's spirit, add more spirit; Where there's no elegance, there is elegance.

He tapped his staff and descended from the seat.

Spring day, ascending the hall. Layman Junchu asked: "What is spring?" The master said: "A single branch stands out beyond the pink wall." He pressed further: "What is the flower on the branchless tree?" The master raised his staff and said: "Which branch is this?" The layman lifted his sitting cloth and said: "If so, then I will take it away." The master said: "Don't show off." Then he said: "Sitting idly in the mountain hall, I mistakenly strike empty space. Yet I am glad the early spring message arrives, suddenly ice melts and things fall apart. Rolling out a sphere of harmonious energy, releasing both shores to wander free. A maiden treading green grass flaunts spring's colors; a carefree monk confesses without being asked. Assembly! Tell me, what is being confessed?" After a long pause, he said: "The whole body is within this. Thirty years from now, I dare guarantee someone will bear witness." He descended from the seat.

On New Year's Day, during the morning assembly. After offering blessings to the sages, the master said:

"The ancestral tradition of the Buddhas and patriarchs remains unchanged, Yet in the human world, the years turn anew. Strike open the pit of the peach of immortality— Reveal the kernel that has always been there.

Only this one matter is real; All else is not true. Thus it is said: Where one is true, all is true; In every speck of dust is the original person.

When speaking of the true reality, sound does not arise; Facing it directly, the very body vanishes. Yet tell me, when facing it directly, why does the body vanish? If anyone can speak to this, this mountain monk will hand over his staff with both hands."

A monk said: "Precisely because it is utterly clear." The master said: "Not intimate enough. Speak for yourself.

Able to follow the changes of all things, Not chasing after the newness of the four seasons. Lift it up—the light of the universe shines, all phenomena manifest in splendor; Put it down—the nation rests in peace, rivers and seas grow calm and clear.

Not lifting, not putting down—after all, what then? When the Way is at peace, no need to transmit the emperor's decree; When times are clear, no need to sing songs of great peace."

He then stepped down from the seat.

The assembly gathered for the closing of the retreat. A monk asked, "The wandering monks all depart today; who is it that remains locked within these grand halls and lofty towers?" The master replied, "A featherless hawk soars across the heavens." The monk pressed, "I would not put it that way." The master asked, "How would you say it?" The monk said, "Blind!" The master immediately struck him.

Then he addressed the assembly, saying: "Shatter the crystal shell, and the phoenix chick bursts forth. Its entire body displays wondrous patterns—what sky can it not fly? Pitiful is the red-tailed sparrow, drowning in a jar of pickles. The Linji school's art of direct seizure—to this day, its essence remains elusive. All of you brothers who have come to Mount Huangbo, with your eyebrows tangled and nostrils touching—have you ever broken through even once? If you break through, you will not linger within any cage, nor turn your head when called. With seven passages open and eight roads clear, you go east or west, moving freely without obstruction, mastering life and death at will. The seed of our tradition has always been distinct, yet everywhere you meet people, they deceive you to your face. You must also realize there is a path of turning the body. What is the path of turning the body? You walk through the wild grasses, while I enter the deep village."

With that, he descended from the seat.

Opening the treasury, a benefactor requests the Dharma assembly. The master raises his whisk and says: "The Tripitaka and the twelve divisions of scriptures, all the sutras, flow forth entirely from this place. Now tell me, from what place does this flow forth? If you understand, then turning the scriptures is already complete, and the emperor's grace and ancestors' virtue are all repaid at once. If not yet, this mountain monk will now expound from the second gate. The great sage has no name, yet his virtue flows for ten thousand generations; great merit does not claim mastery, yet its achievement is clear and profound. Therefore, the great person possesses great insight, great wisdom attains great function. One word contains all existence, one phrase responds to all capacities. Vastly encompassing the Dharma realm without omission, finely entering the finest dust without gap—all beings together bathe in this grace-light, the wilderness equally receives benefit and joy. Vast and boundless, the people cannot name it. Now encountering this auspicious day and fine morning, with auspicious clouds encircling, there is a great benefactor who, with a universally beneficial mind, commands this mountain monk to ascend this seat, open the great precious treasury, and expound the true vehicle. Each word reveals the truth, each phrase returns to the source. The bright sun shines in turn, mountains and rivers reveal their splendor; the ancestral heart within heaven is fully exposed, the grand protection of Minister Ye stands majestic. Completing the unfinished case from twenty years ago; turning over five thousand and more volumes of tangled vines. To repay the ancestors' virtue, to requite the emperor's grace. Now tell me, right at this moment, how to exert effort? Casually extending the hand born of one's mother, turning the Tathagata's right Dharma wheel." He descends from the seat.

Reviving Huangbo Monastery, seeing off the traveling teachers, he ascended the teaching seat and said:

"The dragon tower and jeweled halls are half in ruin, How long can they sway amidst the clouds? We deliberately overturn and rebuild them anew, Everyone must lend a hand to support the effort.

Act swiftly, do not hesitate, Only in difficulty is a true man revealed. A single blade of grass picked up bears the weight of a thousand gold— Those without earnest dedication cannot understand."

Holding up his staff, he said: "Do you understand? This very staff covers heaven and earth— Who else but it can stand firm between heaven and earth?"

He then descended from the seat.

During the Qingming Festival, the master ascended the hall. A monk asked: "With eyes wide open, all I see is Prajñā. When the master ascends the hall, what form does he take?"

The master raised his staff and said: "Do you understand?"

The monk replied: "If so, then you grasp the great function of the Buddhas and patriarchs, and illuminate the true eye of humans and devas."

The master said: "Idle talk."

The monk raised his fist and said: "I offer this in return for the master's profound kindness."

The master said: "Shameless."

Then he said: "The cuckoo calls, calling me home—no need to ask the way. The last clouds disperse completely, revealing several green peaks. If you can discern the truth here, everything is laid bare, all things are manifest as they are. Why wait for this mountain monk to open his lips, wag his tongue, speaking of green and yellow, before you understand? Even so, for this timely and seasonal moment, what should be said? By the overgrown grass, bright and clear; at the coffin's head, a son weeps."

On the Buddha's Birthday, Layman Tiansheng Lin and others invited the Master to the hall to offer blessings for the Lord of the County, Duke Ling. A monk asked, "The Udumbara flower descends from heaven, and a great man is born on this day. I won't ask whether it is auspicious or a sign of good fortune—but what is 'neither attached nor detached'?" The Master remained silent for a long time, then asked, "Do you understand?" The monk responded, "If so, then the sun is fully revealed, illuminating the entire realm." The Master said, "What is the meaning of the sun's full revelation?" The monk stamped his foot. The Master struck him and said, "Why this wild outburst?"

Another monk asked, "Nine dragons spout water, all phenomena smell the fragrance. Born from the right side, we ask the Master to expound widely." The Master replied, "The silver toad first emerges from the sea—where is it not clear?"

Then the Master said, "The ocean of nature is calm, its light engulfing all phenomena. The solitary moon shines bright, its reflection appearing in this world. The sutra says, 'For those who should be saved in the form of an official, he manifests as an official and teaches the Dharma; for those who should be saved in the form of a bodhisattva, he manifests as a bodhisattva and teaches the Dharma.' Today is the day the Buddha descended into this world, and also the morning of the noble lord's glorious birth. Tell me, in what form does he manifest to teach the Dharma?"

He then raised his whisk and said, "Do you understand? One drop of ink, two dragons formed; rain every five days, wind every ten days—virtue overflows to the four seas, benevolence stands tall as a thousand peaks. As for the monk's ultimate matter, before leaving the Tusita Heaven it was still somewhat better; once emerging from the mother's womb, what can be done? Then, with one finger pointing to heaven, one finger pointing to earth, mumbling 'In heaven and on earth, I alone am honored'—how much is exposed! No wonder Yunmen said he would strike him dead and feed him to the dogs, just to bring peace to the world. Though Yunmen wielded authority beyond the borders, he still ended up covered in mud. At Huangbo's gate, not a bit of it is of any use. And what did Huangbo usually employ? Only a pair of poor hands, never bowing lightly to ordinary people."

He then recited a verse: "Having left home and abandoned worldly ties for many years, By chance returning to the mountains, yet still bound by karma. I fear only that the dragon tower will be locked in mist, Leaving but a single opening facing the blue sky."

He then descended from the seat.

On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, a monk asked: "Today is the fifth day of the fifth month. When a sage appears in the world, all things witness it. Picking a hundred herbs at random, the sweet ones are sweet, the bitter ones are bitter. Let's set aside sweet and bitter—what is a single blade of grass?" The master raised his staff.

The monk continued: "The Buddhas of the three times have all been blinded by this single blade of grass." The master said: "But you alone are not blinded."

The monk brushed his sitting mat and said: "Carrying the staff across my shoulder, I enter without looking back, going straight into a thousand peaks, ten thousand peaks." The master said: "No need to paint spiders outside the door."

Then he said: "Today is the Dragon Boat Festival, a time of peace and joy in the human world. But this old monk from Huangbo is muddle-headed—ask him a question and he either hits or scolds. He has stirred up a crowd of idle spirits and wild ghosts, with three heads and six arms, glaring and shouting. At such a moment, how do we drive them away?"

He pointed his whisk toward the sky and said: "Just this single point spreads throughout the world. Red mouths and white tongues, all strange things are dissolved; a thousand demons flee and transform." He tossed the whisk down and said: "Now I throw it before the hall—let everyone appraise its value. If you can appraise it, picking it up and setting it down leaves no gap. If you cannot, better to gather your things and go back, lest you become a laughingstock in all directions."

He then descended from the seat.

The Master ascended the hall for the Summer Retreat's end. He cited: "When Dongshan concluded the Summer Retreat, he said: 'At summer's end and autumn's beginning, fellow practitioners, whether you go east or west, you must go to the place where for ten thousand miles there is not a blade of grass.' After a long pause, he added: 'But what about going to the place where for ten thousand miles there is not a blade of grass?'"

The Master said: "Heaven, oh heaven!"

"Shishuang said: 'The moment you step out the door, there is grass.'"

The Master said: "Heaven, oh heaven!"

"Ming'an said: 'Even if you manage not to step out the door, it is still a vast expanse of grass.'"

The Master said: "Heaven, oh heaven! Fellow practitioners! The ancients offered such guidance, and this mountain monk adds such comments. What, after all, is the intended meaning? If you understand, try to express it before the assembly. If you can express it, your ancestral relatives across kalpas will be liberated in this very moment, and the ocean-like assembly present here will attain immediate liberation. This mountain monk has a protective talisman to give you, whether you go east or west. But if you cannot, do not move. If you move, I'll break your donkey's back."

A monk then shouted.

The Master said: "Heaven, oh heaven!"

He continued: "The autumn wind reveals its form; the ten thousand trees wither and fade. Traveling practitioners of high attainment, look sharply! Do not set foot on the shore where the bright moon shines; it is hard to raise your head amidst the shadows of reed flowers. Fellow practitioners! After all, where will you go?"

Suddenly, he took up his staff, struck it once, and said: "Just take the flute's note of returning home, and in the deep of night, blow it past the Miluo River bend."

He then descended from the seat.

Seeking Repentance, Inviting the Assembly to the Hall. The Master cited: "A monk asked Yunmen: 'If one kills one's father or mother, one repents before the Buddha. But if one kills the Buddha or the patriarchs, where does one go to repent?' Yunmen said: 'Exposed.'" The Master said: "Yunmen said 'exposed'—like the sun at high noon, yet the blind donkeys following the herd are countless. If someone were to ask this mountain monk: 'If one kills the Buddha or the patriarchs, where does one seek repentance?' I would tell them: 'Gathered.'" He then said: "What is the reason? O virtuous meditators! Try to discern this. If you can discern it, your actions of body, speech, and mind will dissolve like ice, and the marks of wisdom and virtue will be fully revealed in their entirety. If you cannot discern it, this mountain monk will once more shake out his shit-gut and explain it for you. Yunmen releases, Huangbo gathers; one push, one squeeze—utterly bone-deep elegance. If you try to figure it out—stop, stop, stop, stop! There is still one more phrase—what is it? When the time comes for you, each will lift their own head." He then descended from the seat.

The assembly gathered for the formal commencement of the summer retreat. A monk asked: "For ninety days we are confined, for three months we protect life. I wonder, what life is being protected?" The Master said: "The mountain across the valley nods and tells you." The monk pressed: "To protect life, one must kill; only when killing is complete can one dwell in peace. I wonder, what life is being killed?" The Master struck him and said: "Kill you!" The monk said: "If so, then the clay ox plunges into the sea, and the Persian has nowhere to hide." The Master struck him repeatedly with his staff and drove him away.

Another monk asked: "Today marks the beginning of the retreat. May I ask the Master, what is the phrase that transcends emotion and cuts off views?" The Master raised his foot. The monk said: "If so, then the stone man claps and laughs heartily as he departs." The Master struck him.

Another monk asked: "When the Master ascends the hall, the bell rings and the drum sounds. After the bell and drum fall silent, where do the sounds go?" The Master said: "This mountain monk is deaf."

Then, raising his whisk, he said: "All Buddhas of the three times, ancestral teachers throughout the ages, and venerable elders everywhere—all commence the summer retreat upon this mountain monk’s whisk. It is like a jeweled net interwoven, each reflecting and entering the other. Even so, there is still one person who laughs heartily. Tell me, what is he laughing at? If someone turns and leaves without hesitation, I guarantee they will cut off the heads of the reward and transformation Buddhas, overturn the nest of right and wrong, and even spend ten thousand taels of gold daily without it being excessive. But if they hesitate, it’s no different from trying to cure a dead horse. Today, eminent ones from all directions gather on this sacred day. At Huangbo, we do not follow old conventions; what matters is to advance with a single stroke, shattering pillars and lanterns, toppling silver mountains and iron walls, embracing both the south and the north, and instantly stilling the ten thousand realms and thousand opportunities. If you can reach such a state, come quickly to the abbot’s quarters and bring word."

He gave a shout and said: "Still, it’s like squeezing juice from a dry cake."

Then he descended from the seat.

The master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "Without falling into the dualities of ordinary and sage, without falling into the categories of existence and non-existence—right at such a moment, what is the solitary phrase that stands apart?"

The master said, "Cut off the tongue."

The monk pressed, "If so, then each step treads in the deep grass, each pace enters the remote village."

The master asked, "What is 'each pace enters the remote village'?"

The monk gave a shout.

The master said, "You haven't even dreamed of it yet."

Then he said, "Before the fifteenth day, this mountain monk's crown is beneath your heels. After the fifteenth day, all of your nostrils are within this mountain monk's palm. Right on the fifteenth day, everyone's face is radiant, each person's beard is red. The wind is fierce, the banners roar; the rain comes, the eaves drip. If you have eight ounces, I'll return you half a pound; if you have ten feet, I'll return you ten feet. But tell me, when one arrives having cast all that aside, how do we meet? A blind man meets a sightless one—the two do not recognize each other. Even so, I'd better give him thirty strokes of the staff. Why? To open the true eye at the crown of the head, and burst forth the blue sky and bright sun."

He then descended from the seat.

Winter Solstice Dharma Assembly.

A monk asked: "On the Winter Solstice, the first yang energy of spring has already stirred. Let's set aside the stones and clods of earth turning over for now. Before winter arrives and spring stirs—please, Master, speak a word."

The Master said: "This mountain monk does not know either."

The monk gave a shout.

The Master said: "Why the rush?"

The monk hesitated, about to speak.

The Master struck him and said: "You don't even recognize the point of the question."

Another monk asked: "The Master said: 'A single melody of spring warmth—from ancient times, those who harmonize are few.' Today we have come to celebrate with the Master."

The Master said: "This mountain monk has neither joy nor sorrow. What is there to celebrate?"

The monk bowed and said: "If so, then I shall bow universally."

The Master said: "A fellow playing with mud balls."

Then he addressed the assembly:

"Grasping the great pivot—the bright pearl beneath the black dragon's chin becomes worthless. Releasing the guiding thread—a broken broom on a dung heap becomes priceless beyond measure. This is not about oppressing the good to make them cheap, nor about cutting short to make up for lack. If you are a true descendant of our house, you will know this source. But if you're just playing with mud balls, do not mistake echoes for reality. Tell me, without grasping or releasing, what ultimately is it? On the southern solstice day, see through Zhang and Li. Whether profitable or not, never stray from the marketplace."

He struck the ground once with his staff and said: "I have hidden nothing from you."

Then he descended from the seat.

The monk Chunru requested a formal teaching. He asked, "What is Buddha?" The master said, "Perfectly round and complete." "What is Dharma?" The master said, "Lively and vibrant." "What is Sangha?" The master said, "Free and unrestrained." The monk pressed further, "Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha have been pointed out by the master. What is the affair of a patch-robed monk?" The master struck him and said, "Just say, what affair is this?" As the monk prepared to bow, the master struck him again, then said:

"The first of the twelfth month, good news arrives, Snow adorns plum blossoms in wild disarray. The great earth becomes a silver world— Mahāprajñāpāramitā.

A stretch of clear sky, Samantabhadra flaunts his charm; A thousand opportunities instantly appear, Mañjuśrī shows his flair. The yellow-faced old man, on the jeweled flower platform, tangles in vines; The blue-eyed foreign monk, in the thorny forest, cuts iron like clay.

Looking at this bunch of old frozen ones, Talking nonsense, confusing people under heaven— they have done this not a little. Fortunately, today they meet the cold wind, rolled into a single mass, no distinction between black and white. Assembly, is there anyone who will clear their grievance?"

The assembly was silent. The master said, "Recognize Chunru's true realm— Clearly, a single piece of jade universe." He then descended from the seat.

On the Laba Festival, the master ascended the hall. A monk asked, "Every year on this day, the eighth of the twelfth month, everyone speaks of Shakyamuni's extraordinary awakening. I won't ask about the extraordinary, but what is the meaning before the star?" The master said, "It rained this morning." The monk replied, "So it was this thief after all." The master said, "Did it ever wet your eyebrows?" The monk gave a shout. The master said, "Drag him out to dry in the sun." The monk shouted again. The master struck him with his staff and drove him out. Then he said, "In the piled snowflakes, closely pursue the search; a drop of water freezing is not yet true. One piercing star, both eyes fall away; the great thousand worlds nowhere to hide. If you understand the meaning of this verse of mine, you will understand the moment Shakyamuni saw the star and awakened. Once you understand the moment Shakyamuni awakened, you will know that above, you share the same breath as the buddhas of the three times; below, you manifest as one body with the beings of the five paths. Far and wide, throughout the sands of the Ganges, whether ordinary or sage, monk or layperson, man or woman, grass or tree, large or small, coarse or fine—all are the place where we release our life. As they say, penetrate one place, and a hundred, a thousand places are encompassed; one mechanism thoroughly clear, and a thousand, ten thousand mechanisms turn freely. Like a pearl rolling on a plate, like a plate rolling with a pearl, perfectly round, vividly alive, appearing and disappearing, expanding and contracting, nothing is impossible. If there is anyone not involved in this beauty, come forth and meet Huangbo." A monk said, "Loving one's child, one does not notice the ugliness." The master said, "The borrowed rooster's crow cannot deceive me; I will not vaguely let you pass the gate." He then descended the seat.

The disciple invites the Master to ascend the hall. He asks: “Every sound pierces the nostrils, every phrase reflects upon the brow. Today, this humble one has seen through it all.” The Master says: “Seen through what?” The disciple advances and says: “Bodhidharma faced the wall—eyes horizontal, nose vertical.” The Master immediately strikes him, then says: “When sentient beings receive the Buddha’s precepts, they enter the rank of all Buddhas. Once their rank is equal to the Great Awakening, O great virtuous ones! If you can truly believe it, bear it with your whole being, and directly undertake it face to face—then you are exactly suited to the Huangbo lineage, receiving three thousand blows in the morning and eight hundred in the evening. Why? Because you should not drown in the ocean of Great Awakening, with no path to emerge. A true man of great resolve must cut off the heads of the reward and transformation Buddhas, overturn the nest of right and wrong, tear apart the monk’s grasping point, and return to his original face. Then even the praises of gods and humans fall short, and demons and outsiders find no crack to peer through. Only then, upon the tip of a single hair, can he perform great Buddha-deeds, widely deliver sentient beings, and continue the Buddha’s wisdom-life—this is what truly fulfills the original intent of a great man. O great virtuous ones! Tell me, by whose gracious power is there such excellence, such wonder? Do not wonder at the lofty spirit of former times—they once paid homage to the sage and enlightened sovereign.” He descends from the seat.

Recorded Sayings of Zen Master Yinyuan, Volume 1, End