Chapter VII: Part 7

The problem of emancipation is important, but the still more important one is, “Who or what is the Buddha?” When this is mastered, Buddhism has rendered its full service. What did the Indian philosophers think of the Buddha? There was an old lady who lived at the time of the Buddha. She was born at the same time as the Buddha himself and lived in the eastern part of the city. She had a singular aversion against the Buddha and never wished to see him. Whenever he passed by she would run away. But whichever way she turned she would encounter him, east or west. She covered her face with her hands, and lo! she saw the Buddha between her fingers. This is beautiful and illuminating. What follows is the Zen way of treating the subject: A monk came to Ch‘i-an who was one of the disciples of Ma-tsu,[4.18] and asked: “What is the original body of Vairochana?” Said the master, “Would you mind passing that water-pitcher over to me?” The monk handed it to the master as asked. Then the master requested him to put it back where he got it. The monk did so. But not getting any answer as he thought to his first question, he asked again, “What is the original body of Vairochana Buddha?” The master expressed his regret, saying, “Long it is since the departure of the old Buddha!” These two instances will suffice to illustrate where the Chinese Zen mind deviates from the Indian.

II

The history of Zen dates with the coming of Bodhi-Dharma (Bodai-Daruma)[4.19] from the west, 520 A.D. He came to China with a special message which is summed up in the following lines:

“A special transmission outside the scriptures;
No dependence upon words and letters;
Direct pointing at the soul of man;
Seeing into one’s nature and the attainment of Buddhahood.”

These four lines as describing the principles of Zen teaching as distinguished from other schools of Buddhism already in existence in China were formulated later and not by Dharma himself. We cannot exactly tell who was the real author, as we have no definite information on this subject. One historian, Tsung-chien,[4.20] who compiled from the T‘ien-tai point of view a Buddhist history entitled _The Rightful Lineage of the Śākya Doctrine_ in 1237, ascribes it to Nansen Fu-gwan[4.21]; probably the formula originated in those days when Baso (Ma-tsu), Hyakjo (Pai-chang), Obaku (Huang-po), Sekito (Shih-tou) and Yakusan (Yüeh-shan)[4.22] were flourishing in the “West of the River” and in the “South of the Lake.” Since then they have been regarded as characteristically Zen, and it was Dharma that breathed this spirit into the minds of the Chinese Buddhists. The latter had more or less been given up, on the one hand, to philosophising, and, on the other hand, to practising contemplation. They were not acquainted with the direct method of Zen which was to see straightway into the truth of Enlightenment and attain Buddhahood without going through so many stages of preparation prescribed by the scholars.

* * * * *

Our knowledge of the life of Bodhi-Dharma comes from two sources, the one which the earliest record we have of him is by Tao-hsüan[4.23] in his _Biographies of the High Priests_ which was compiled early in the T‘ang dynasty, A.D. 645. The author was the founder of a Vinaya sect in China and a learned scholar, who however was living before the movement of the new school to be known as Zen came into maturity under Hui-nêng, the sixth patriarch, who was nine years old when Tao-hsüan wrote his _Biographies_. The other source is the _Records of the Transmission of the Lamp_, A.D. 1004, compiled by Tao-yüan[4.24] early in the Sung dynasty. This was written by a Zen monk after Zen had received full recognition as a special branch of Buddhism, and contains sayings and doings of its masters. The author often refers to some earlier Zen histories as his authorities which are however lost now being known by the titles only.

It is quite natural that these two accounts of the life of Bodhi-Dharma should vary at several points. The first was written when Zen was not yet fully established as a school, and the second by one of the Zen masters. In the first, Dharma, the founder of Zen, is treated as one of the many other Buddhist priests eminent in various fields as translators, commentators, scholars, Vinaya-followers, masters of meditation, possessors of miraculous virtues, etc., and Dharma could not naturally occupy in such a history any very prominent position distinguishing himself from the other “high priests.” He is described merely as one of those “masters of meditation” whose conception of dhyana did not differ from the old traditional one as was practised by the Hinayana followers. Tao-hsüan did not understand the message of Dharma in its full signification, though he could read in it something not quite of the so-called “practice of meditation.” And therefore it is sometimes argued by scholars that there is not much of Zen in Tao-hsüan’s account of Dharma worthy of its first Chinese promulgator and that therefore Dharma could not be so regarded as is claimed by the followers of the Zen school of Buddhism. But this is not doing justice to Zen, nor to Tao-hsüan who never thought of writing a Zen history before Zen came to be known as such. Tao-hsüan could not be a prophetic historian. While the biographical history of Tao-yüan contains much that is to be discredited as regards the life of Bodhi-Dharma, especially as regards that part of his life before he came to China, we have reason to believe that the greater part of Tao-yüan’s account of Dharma’s doings after his arrival in China is historical. In this latter respect, Tao-hsüan must be taken as complementing Tao-yüan. It is not quite in accord with the spirit of fair critical judgment to be partial to one authority at the expense of the other without duly weighing all the historically known circumstances that contributed to the making of these histories.

According to Tao-hsüan, Bodhi-Dharma left many writings or sayings which were apparently still in circulation at the time of the author of the _Biographies of the High Priests_, but the only authentic writing of the Zen founder’s at present in our possession is a very short one which is preserved in Tao-hsüan’s _Biographies_ as well as in Tao-yüan’s Records. There are some other essays ascribed to Dharma,[f80] but most of which, though deeply imbibing the spirit of Zen, are spurious except one which I am inclined to think to be genuinely his. It is entitled “On the Pacification of the Soul.”[4.26] Together with the first one which is generally known under the title, “Meditation on Four Acts,”[4.27] we have just two pieces of writings handed down as Dharma’s. Though I do not think that “The Meditation on Four Acts” could be the best possible specimen of writing to be bequeathed by the founder of Zen, which will admit us straightway into the very essence of Zen, I will give here an English translation of it as the most reliable essay of Bodhi-Dharma, the first patriarch of Zen in China.

There are two versions as I said before of this writing, the one in the _Biographies_ and the other in the _Records_, and they do not quite agree with each other in some points. The main drift is the same, but in detail they vary. The question now is, which is the more original one? Chronologically, the _Biographies_ were compiled earlier than the _Records_, but the latter presupposes some earlier writings which were utilised for its compilation. We have no means to ascertain the reliability of the documents thus made use of, and then the authority of the _Biographies_ is not absolute. Therefore, the only profitable method of judging the respective merit of the two versions is to compare them from the literary point of view and see what light such comparison will shed on the nature of each. The result I have reached is that the author of the _Biographies_ used the one preserved in the _Records_, which is more faithful to the original if there were any such besides this very version. The reason for this conclusion is that Dharma’s writing appears much improved after the editing of Tao-hsüan, the author of the _Biographies_; for he had to edit it for his own purposes. Thus edited,[f81][4.28] Dharma’s writing is now in a better style, that is, more concise, more to the point, and more refined. For this reason the following translation[4.29] is made from Tao-yüan’s _Records_ in which the author had every reason to reproduce the original as it stood.

“[Bodhi-Dharma], the Teacher of the Law, was the third son of a great Brahman king in South India, of the Western Lands. He was a man of wonderful intelligence, bright and far-reaching; he thoroughly understood everything that he ever learned. As his ambition was to master the doctrine of the Mahayana, he abandoned the white dress of a layman and put on the black robe of monkhood, wishing to cultivate the seeds of holiness. He practised contemplation and tranquillisation, he knew well what was the true significance of worldly affairs. Inside and outside, he was transpicuous; his virtues were more than a model to the world. He was grieved very much over the decline of the orthodox teaching of the Buddha in the remoter parts of the earth. He finally made up his mind to cross over land and sea and come to China and preach his doctrine in the kingdom of Wei. Those that were spiritually inclined gathered about him full of devotion, while those that could not rise above their own one-sided views talked about him slanderingly.

“At the time there were only two monks called Tao-yih and Hui-k‘ê, who while yet young had a strong will and desire to learn higher things. Thinking it a great opportunity of their lives to have such a teacher of the Law in their own land, they put themselves under his instruction for several years. Most reverently they followed him, asked questions to be enlightened, and observed his directions well. The Teacher of the Law was moved by their spirit of sincerity and disciplined them in the true path, telling them, ‘This is the way to obtain peace of mind,’ and ‘This is the way to behave in the world,’ ‘This is the way to live harmoniously with your surroundings,’ and ‘This is the upāya (means).’ These being the Mahayana ways to keep the mind tranquil, one has to be on guard against their wrongful applications. By this mental pacification _Pi-kuan_[f82] is meant; by this behaviour, the Four Acts; by this harmony with things, the protection from slander and ill-disposition; and by this Upāya, detachment.

“Thus I[f83] have briefly stated the story of what follows.

“There are many ways to enter the Path, but briefly speaking they are of two sorts only. The one is ‘Entrance by Reason’ and the other ‘Entrance by Conduct.’ By ‘Entrance by Reason’ we mean the realisation of the spirit of Buddhism by the aid of the scriptural teaching. We then come to have a deep faith in the True Nature which is one and the same in all sentient beings. The reason why it does not manifest itself is due to the overwrapping of external objects and false thoughts. When one, abandoning the false and embracing the true, and in simpleness of thought abides in _Pi-kuan_ 壁觀, one finds that there is neither selfhood nor otherness, that the masses and the worthies are of one essence, and firmly holds on to this belief and never moves away therefrom. He will not then be guided by any literary instructions, for he is in silent communion with the principle itself, free from conceptual discrimination, for he is serene and not-acting. This is called ‘Entrance by Reason.’

“By ‘Entrance by Conduct’ is meant the Four Acts in which all other acts are included. What are the four? 1. How to requite hatred; 2. To be obedient to karma; 3. Not to seek after anything; and 4. To be in accord with the Dharma.

“1. What is meant by ‘How to requite hatred’? Those who discipline themselves in the Path should think thus when they have to struggle with adverse conditions: During the innumerable past ages I have wandered through multiplicity of existences, all the while giving myself to unimportant details of life at the expense of essentials, and thus creating infinite occasions for hate, ill-will, and wrong-doing. While no violations have been committed in this life, the fruits of evil deeds in the past are to be gathered now. Neither gods nor men can foretell what is coming upon me. I will submit myself willingly and patiently to all the ills that befall me, and I will never bemoan or complain. In the Sutra it is said not to worry over ills that may happen to you. Why? Because through intelligence one can survey [the whole chain of causation]. When this thought arises, one is in concord with the principle because he makes the best use of hatred and turns it into the service in his advance towards the Path. This is called the ‘way to requite hatred.’

“2. By ‘being obedient to karma’ is meant this: There is no self (_ātman_) in whatever beings that are produced by the interplay of karmaic conditions; pain and pleasure we suffer are also the results of our previous action. If I am rewarded with fortune, honour, etc., this is the outcome of my past deeds which by reason of causation affect my present life. When the force of karma is exhausted, the result I am enjoying now will disappear; what is then the use of being joyful over it? Gain or loss, let us accept karma as it brings us the one or the other, the spirit itself knows neither increase nor decrease. The wind of gladness does not move it as it is silently in harmony with the Path. Therefore this is called ‘being obedient to karma.’

“3. By ‘not seeking after anything’ is meant this: Men of the world, in eternal confusion, are attached everywhere to one thing or another, which is called seeking. The wise however understand the truth and are not like the vulgar. Their minds abide serenely in the uncreated while the body turns about in accordance with the laws of causation. All things are empty and there is nothing desirable and to be sought after. Wherever there is the merit of brightness there follows the demerit of darkness. This triple world where one stays too long is like a house on fire; all that has a body suffers, and who would ever know what is rest? Because the wise are thoroughly acquainted with this truth, they get never attached to anything that becomes, their thoughts are quieted, they never seek. Says the Sutra: Wherever there is seeking, there you have sufferings; when seeking ceases, you are blessed. Thus we know that not to seek is verily the way to the truth. Therefore I preach to you not ‘to seek after anything.’

“4. By ‘being in accord with the Dharma’ is meant that the reason in its essence is pure which we call the Dharma, and that this reason is the principle of emptiness in all that is manifested, as it is above defilements and attachments, and as there is no Self or Other in it. Says the Sutra: In the Dharma there are no sentient beings, because it is free from the stains of being; in the Dharma there is no Self because it is free from the stain of selfhood. When the wise understand this truth and believe in it, their conduct will be ‘in accordance with the Dharma.’

“As the Dharma in essence has no desire to possess, the wise are ever ready to practise charity with their body, life, property, and they never begrudge, they never know what an ill grace means. As they have a perfect understanding of the threefold nature of emptiness, they are above partiality and attachment. Only because of their will to cleanse all beings of their stains, they come among them as of them, but they are not attached to the form. This is known as the inner aspect of their life. They however know also how to benefit others, and again how to glorify the path of enlightenment. As with the virtue of charity, so with the other five virtues [in the Prajñāpāramitā]. That the wise practise the six virtues of perfection is to get rid of confused thoughts, and yet they are not conscious of their doings. This is called ‘being in accord with the Dharma.’”

* * * * *

The doctrine of the Two Entrances is evidently taken from the _Vajrasamādhi-sūtra_[f84]; and that of the Four Acts is an amplification of the second form of Entrance as is expounded in the Sutra. A comparison with the passage[4.29a] from it will make this point clear at once:

“Said the Buddha: The two entrances are ‘Entrance by Reason’ and ‘Entrance by Conduct.’ ‘Entrance by Reason’ means to have a deep faith in that all sentient beings are identical in essence with the true nature which is neither unity nor multiplicity; only it is beclouded by external objects. The nature in itself neither departs nor comes. When a man in singleness of thought abides in _chüeh-kuan_ 覺觀, he will clearly see into the Buddha-nature, of which we cannot say whether it exists or exists not, and in which there is neither selfhood nor otherness. He will also find that the nature is the same both in the masses and in the worthies. He thus firmly holds the ground of the diamond-heart and never moves away therefrom; he is serene and not-doing, and free from conceptual discrimination. This is called ‘Entrance by Reason.’

“‘Entrance by Conduct’ means not to be unsteady and reclining in mind and not to be in its shadows changing like a stream. Wherever you are, let your thought be serene and not to be seeking after anything. Let it be like unto the great earth unmoved even in a raging storm. Giving up all thoughts of egoism in your heart, save all beings and let them cross over to the other shore. There are no births, no signs, no clinging, no abandoning; in the mind of a Bodhisattva, there is no going-out, no coming-in. When this mind which neither goes out nor comes in enters into that which is never entered into, it is called entering. This is the way the Bodhisattva enters into the Dharma. The Dharma is not empty in form, and the Dharma of non-emptiness is not to be put aside as non-entity. Why? The Dharma that is not non-entity is filled with virtues. It is neither mind nor shadows, it is pure in its suchness.”

In comparing these two texts the reader will be impressed with the most important and most striking change Bodhi-Dharma made in his quotation, which is the substituting of _pi-kuan_ for _chüeh-kuan_. _Pi_ ordinarily means “wall” or “precipice,” and is often found in combination with _li_, “standing,” in such phrases as _pi li wan jên_ 壁立萬仞, to describe an unscalable wall, or figuratively to represent the attitude, for instance, of Acala-Vidyārāja standing straight up. What was the reason of Dharma’s changing _chüeh_, “to awaken,” or “to be enlightened” into a word which apparently has no organic relation to the following _kuan_, “to perceive,” or “to contemplate”? The novel combination is a very important one, for it alters the sense of the whole context in which it occurs. Tao-hsüan, the author of the _Biographies_, refers to Dharma’s _tai ch‘êng pi kuan_, Mahayanistic wall-contemplation, in his commentary notes to Zen, as the most meritorious work Dharma achieved in China.[f85] For this reason he is often spoken of as the _pi-kuan_ Brahman, that is, wall-contemplating Brahman, and in Japan the monks belonging to the Soto school of Zen are supposed to follow the example of the founder of their religion when they keep up the practice of sitting facing the wall while meditating. But this is evidently a superficial interpretation of the phrase _pi-kuan_; for how could mere wall-gazing start a revolutionary movement in the Buddhist world as is implied in Tao-hsüan’s life of Dharma?[f86] How could such an innocent practise provoke a terrible opposition among scholars of those days? To my view, _pi-kuan_ has a far deeper meaning, and must be understood in the light of the following passage in the _Records_, which is quoted from a work known as the _Pieh Chi_[4.30] meaning some special document of prior existence:

“The master first stayed in the Shōrinji (Shao-lin-szŭ) monastery for nine years, and when he taught the second patriarch, it was only in the following way: ‘Externally keep yourself away from all relationships, and, internally, have no pantings (or hankerings, 喘 _ch‘uan_) in your heart;[f87] when your mind is like unto a straight-standing wall you may enter into the Path.’ Hui-k‘ê tried variously to explain [or to discourse on] the reason of mind, but failed to realise the truth itself. The master simply said, ‘No! No!’ and never proposed to explain to his disciple what was the mind-essence in its thought-less state, [that is, in its pure being]. [Later] said Hui-k‘ê, ‘I know now how to keep myself away from all relationships.’ ‘You make it a total annihilation, do you not?’ queried the master. ‘No, master,’ replied Hui-k‘ê, ‘I do not make it a total annihilation.’ ‘How do you testify your statement?’ ‘For I know it always in a most intelligible manner, but to express it in words—that is impossible.’ Thereupon, said the master, ‘That is the mind-essence itself transmitted by all the Buddhas. Harbour no doubts about it.’”

In fact, this passage sums up the special message contained in Dharma’s teaching, and in it we may get an adequate answer as to the exact meaning of _pi-kuan_. The term must have been a novel one in his day, and the originality of his views really lay in the creative sense of the one word “_pi_” It was so concrete, so graphic, and there was nothing abstract and conceptual about it. Hence Tao-hsüan’s special reference to Dharma’s teaching as the _Tai-chêng pi-kuan_. (Mahayanistic wall-contemplation). While there was nothing specifically Zen in his doctrine of “Two Entrances and Four Acts,” the teaching of _Pi-kuan_, wall-contemplation, was what made Bodhi-Dharma the first patriarch of Zen Buddhism in China.

The author of the _Rightful Transmission of the Śākya Doctrine_ interprets _pi-kwan_ as meaning the state of mind where “no external dusts get in.”[4.31] This may be all right, but we are not told where he finds the authority for this way of understanding. Had he in mind Dharma’s remark to Hui-k‘ê as recorded in the document known as _Pieh-chi_? In any event the underlying meaning of the “wall-contemplation” must be found in the subjective condition of a Zen master, which is highly concentrated and rigidly exclusive of all ideas and sensuous images. To understand the phrase, “_pi-kwan_” as simply meaning “wall-gazing” will be sheer absurdity. If the specific message of Dharma as the founder of Zen in China is to be sought anywhere in the writings of his, which are still in existence, it must be in this “Mahayanistic wall-contemplation.”

Besides this writing which is the only one left by Dharma in our possession at present, we have the _Laṅkāvatāra-sūtra_, _Vajrasamādhi-sūtra_, and _Vajracchedikā-sūtra_, through which we can also have a glimpse into the central teaching of Bodhi-Dharma. Zen, unlike other schools of Buddhism, has no particular Sutras to be called the “foundation canon” on which its followers would base the principal tenets of their school; but Dharma recommended the _Laṅkāvatāra_ to his first disciple Hui-k‘ê (Yeka), as containing the teaching most intimately related to Zen, and after him this scriptural writing came to be studied chiefly by Zen scholars.[f88] As to the importance of the _Vajrasamādhi_ as expounding the philosophy of Zen, we can easily understand it from Dharma’s own reference to the Sutra in his writing as was already pointed out. With regard to the _Vajracchedikā-sūtra_, most people think of it as having nothing to do with Zen prior to the fifth patriarch, Hung-jên (Gunin); for it was he who for the first time introduced it among his own disciples, while Dharma himself made no allusion whatever to this, one of the most popular Buddhist texts in China. But according to Hui-nêng’s Preface to the _Vajracchedikā_, which is still preserved, “ever since the coming-west of Dharma he wanted to propagate the meaning of this Sutra and lead people to understand the Reason and to see into the Nature.” If this were actually the case, Dharma, to say the least, must have had some knowledge of this Sutra from the very beginning of his career in China, and the connection in a way between this and Zen must have been more fundamental than that between the _Laṅkāvatāra_ and Zen. The prevalent notion then that the _Vajracchedikā_ came only in vogue after Hung-jên and Hui-nêng must be revised. Whatever this may be, the _Laṅkāvatāra_ is too difficult a material for popular consumption, and it was natural that this Sutra came to be gradually superseded by the _Vajracchedikā_ as Zen gained more and more in power and influence. As one of the Sutras belonging to the Prajñāpāramitā class of Buddhist literature, the teaching of the _Vajracchedikā_ was comparatively simple and had something much akin to the Laotzŭan ideas of emptiness and non-doing. It was not hard for the average Chinese to follow its philosophy of Śūnyatā, in fact this agreed well with a certain aspect of Chinese thought.[f89]

However, with Zen followers all literature was like a finger pointing at the moon, and there was not much in itself that will actually lead one to the seeing of one’s own inner nature; for this seeing was a realisation which must be attained by one’s own personal efforts apart from the mere understanding of letters. All Buddhist Sutras including the _Laṅkāvatāra_, _Vajrasamādhi_, and _Vajracchedikā_ could not be of much help to the real earnest seekers of the truth, so long as his idea is to grasp the naked facts with his own ungloved hands. This was possible only when his own inner consciousness opened by itself, from within, through his whole-souled efforts. Literature is helpful only when it indicates the way, it is not the thing itself.

The earlier part of Bodhi-Dharma’s life while in India as is narrated in the _Records_ may be discredited as containing a large dose of fiction, but the latter part of it cannot so easily be disposed of. This is where it supplements the story in Tao-hsüan’s _Biographies_, which was written by a good historian but by one who did not know anything about the future development of Zen. According to the _Records_ then, the first great personage Dharma had an interview with when he came to China was the king of Liang, the greatest Buddhist patron of the time. And the interview took place in the following manner:

The Emperor Wu of Liang asked Dharma:

“Ever since the beginning of my reign I have built so many temples, copied so many sacred books, and supported so many monks; what do you think my merit might be?”

“No merit whatever, sire!” Dharma bluntly replied.

“Why?” demanded the Emperor astonished.

“All these are inferior deeds,” thus began Dharma’s significant reply, “which would cause their author to be born in the heavens or on this earth again. They still show the traces of worldliness, they are like shadows following objects. Though they appear actually existing, they are no more than mere non-entities. As to a true meritorious deed, it is full of pure wisdom and is perfect and mysterious, and its real nature is beyond the grasp of human intelligence. Such as this is not to be sought after by any worldly achievement.”

The Emperor Wu thereupon asked Bodhi-Dharma again,[4.32] “What is the first principle of the holy doctrine?”

“Vast emptiness, and there is nothing in it to be called holy, sire!” answered Dharma.

“Who is then that is now confronting me?”

“I know not, sire!”

The answer was simple enough, and clear enough too, but the pious and learned Buddhist Emperor failed to grasp the spirit pervading the whole attitude of Dharma.

Seeing that there was no further help to be given to the Emperor, Dharma left his dominion and retired into a monastery in the state of Wei, where he sat quietly practising the “wall-contemplation,” it is said, for nine long years, until he came to be known as the _Pi-kuan_ Brahman.[f90]

One day a monk Shên-kuang[4.33] visited him and most earnestly implored him to be enlightened in the truth of Zen, but Dharma paid no attention. Shên-kuang was not to be disappointed, for he knew that all the great spiritual leaders of the past had gone through with many a heart-rending trial in order to attain the final object of their aspiration. One evening he stood in the midst of the snow waiting for Dharma to notice him when at last the fast-falling snow buried him almost as deep as his knees.

Finally, the master turned back and said, “What do you wish me to do for you?” Said Kuang, “I am come to receive your invaluable instructions; pray open your gate of mercy, and extend your hand of salvation to this poor suffering mortal.” “The incomparable doctrine of Buddhism,” replied Dharma, “can be comprehended only after a long hard discipline and by enduring what is most difficult to endure, and by practising what is most difficult to practise. Men of inferior virtue and wisdom are not allowed to understand anything about it. All the labours of such ones will come to naught.”

Kuang at last cut off his left arm with the sword[f91] he was carrying, and presented it before the teacher as a token of his sincerity in the desire to be instructed in the doctrine of all the Buddhas. Said Dharma, “This is not to be sought through another.”

“My soul is not yet pacified. Pray, master, pacify it.”

“Bring your soul here, and I will have it pacified.”

Kuang hesitated for a moment but finally said, “I have sought it these many years and am still unable to get hold of it!”

“There! it is pacified once for all.” This was Dharma’s sentence.[f92]

Dharma then told him to change his name into Hui-k‘ê.

Nine years passed,[4.34] and Dharma wished to return to his native country. He called in all his disciples before him, and said, “The time is come for me to depart, and I want to see what your attainments are.”

“According to my view,” said Tao-fu, “the truth is above both affirmation and negation, for this is the way it moveth.”

Dharma said, “You have got my skin.”

Next came in the nun, Tsung-ch‘ih, and said, “As I understand it, it is like Ānanda’s viewing the Buddha-land of Akshobhya: it is seen once and never again.”

Dharma said, “You have got my flesh.”

Tao-yü was another disciple who presented his view, saying, “Empty are the four elements and non-existent the five skandhas. According to my view, there is not a thing to be grasped as real.”

Dharma said, “You have got my bone.”

Finally, Hui-k‘ê, that is, Shên-kuang, reverently bowing to the master, kept standing in his seat and said nothing.

Dharma then announced, “You have my marrow.”[f93]

Mystery envelops the end of Bodhi-Dharma’s life in China, we do not know how, when, and where he passed away from this earth. Some say that he was poisoned by his rivals, others say that he went back to India crossing the desert, and still others report that he came over to Japan. In one thing they all agree which is this: he was quite old, being, according to Tao-hsüan, over one hundred and fifty years at his death.

III

After Bodhi-Dharma, Hui-k‘ê (486–593)[4.35] was the chief exponent of Zen Buddhism. He was already a learned scholar before he came to his teacher for instruction, not only in the Chinese classics but in Buddhist lore. No amount of learning however satisfied him; indeed he seems to have had a sort of enlightenment in his way, which he wanted to be testified to by Dharma. After he left the master, he did not at once begin his preaching hiding himself among the lower strata of society. He evidently shunned being looked up to as a high priest of great wisdom and understanding. However, he did not neglect quietly preaching the Law whenever he had an occasion. He was simply quiet and unassuming, refusing to show himself off. But one day when he was discoursing about the Law before a temple gate, there was another sermon going on inside the temple by a resident priest, learned and honoured. The audience however left the reverend lecturer inside and gathered around the street-monk probably clad in rags and with no outward signs of ecclesiastical dignity. The high priest got angry over the situation. He accused the beggar-monk to the authorities as promulgating a false doctrine, whereupon Hui-k‘ê was arrested and put to death. He did not specially plead innocent but composedly submitted, saying that he had according to the law of karma an old debt to pay up. This took place in A.D. 593, and he was one hundred and seven years old when he was killed.

According to Tao-hsüan, Hui-k‘ê’s eloquence flew directly from his heart, not encrusted with learning or scholarly discourse. While he was preaching in an important city on the meaning of Zen, those who could not rise above “the letter that killeth” took his teaching for heresy, as the words of a devil devoid of sense. Especially among them a master of meditation called Tao-hüan[4.36] who had about one thousand followers about him, at once assumed an offensive attitude towards Hui-k‘ê. He sent one of his disciples to the Zen exponent, perhaps to find out what kind of man he really was. As soon as the disciple learned what was the teaching of the so-called heretic, he was so deeply impressed by this man that he was converted into a Zen advocate. Tao-hüan despatched another of his followers to call the first one back, but he followed the example of the predecessor. Several other messengers were sent one after another, but the result was altogether discouraging. Later when Tao-hüan happened to meet his first messenger, he asked; “How was it that I had to send for you so many times? Did I not open your eye after taking pains so much on my part?” The former disciple however mystically answered; “My eye has been right from the first, and it was through you that it came to squint.” This stirred the master’s ire, and it was through his machination, writes Tao-hsüan, that Hui-k‘ê had to suffer official persecution.

This story taken from Tao-hsüan’s _Biographies_ varies from that in the Tao-yüan’s _Records_, but they both agree in making Hui-k‘ê a martyr at the hands of his enemy. There is no doubt that in the Zen teaching of Bodhi-Dharma and his first Chinese disciple, Hui-k‘ê, there was something that was unintelligible to most of the Buddhists of the time who had been trained either in the abstract metaphysics or in the tranquillising exercises, or in the mere morality, of Buddhism. The exponents of Zen then must have emphasised the truth to be awakened in one’s inner consciousness, even at the expense of the canonical teaching as is variously elucidated in the Sutras and Śastras, many of which in translations had already been in circulation. This must have excited the conservatists and literalists.

Like Bodhi-Dharma, Hui-k‘ê did not leave any literary writing though we know from their biographies that both had their sermons collected and in the case of Hui-k‘ê “classified,”[f94][4.37] whatever this may mean. The following extracts preserved however may throw light on the teaching of Hui-k‘ê. A lay-disciple called Hsiang wrote a letter to Hui-k‘ê:[4.38] “Shadow follows a body and echo rises from a sound. He who in pursuit of the shadow tires out the body, does not know that the body produces the shadow; and he who attempts to stop an echo by raising his voice, does not understand that the voice is the cause of the echo. [In a similar way] he who seeks Nirvana by cutting desires and passions is to be likened to one who seeks a shadow apart from its original body; and he who aspires to Buddhahood thinking it to be independent of the nature of sentient beings is to be likened to one who tries to listen to an echo by deadening its original sound. Therefore, the ignorant and the enlightened are walking in one passageway; the vulgar and the wise are not to be differentiated from each other. Where there are no names, we create names, and because of these names judgments are formed. Where there is no theorising, we theorise, and because of this theorising, disputes arise. They are all phantom creations and not realities, and who knows who is right and who is wrong? They are all empty, no substantialities have they, and who knows what is and what is not? So we realise that our gain is not real gain and our loss not real loss. This is my view and may I be enlightened if I am at fault?”

To this Hui-k‘ê answered: “You have truly comprehended the Dharma as it is; the deepest truth lies in the principle of identity. It is due to one’s ignorance that the mani-jewel is taken for a piece of brick, but lo! when one is suddenly awakened to self-enlightenment, it is realised that one is in possession of the real jewel. The ignorant and the enlightened are of one essence, they are not really to be separated. We should know that all things are such as they are. Those who entertain a dualistic view of the world are to be pitied, and I write this letter for them. When we know that between this body and the Buddha there is nothing to separate one from the other, what is the use of seeking after Nirvana [as something external to ourselves]?”

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Next to Hui-k‘ê came Sêng-ts‘an (died 606),[4.39] who succeeded as the third patriarch. The interview between master and disciple took place in this manner: A layman of forty troubled with _fêng-yang_[f95] according to the _Records_, came to Hui-k‘ê and asked;

“I am suffering from _fêng-yang_; pray cleanse me of my sins.”

“Bring your sins here,” said Hui-k‘ê, “and I will cleanse you of them.”

The lay-disciple was silent for a while but finally said, “As I seek my sins, I find them unattainable.”

“I have then finished cleansing you altogether. You should thenceforth take refuge in the Buddha, Dharma, and Saṁgha (Brotherhood), and abide therein.”

“As I stand before you, O master,” asked Sêng-ts‘an, “I know that you belong to the Brotherhood, but pray tell me what are the Buddha and the Dharma.”

Replied the master, “Mind is the Buddha, Mind is the Dharma; and the Buddha and the Dharma are not two. The same is to be said of the Brotherhood (_saṁgha_).”

This satisfied the disciple who now said, “To-day for the first time I realise that sins are neither within nor without nor in the middle; just as Mind is, so is the Buddha, so is the Dharma; they are not two.”[f96]

He was then ordained by Hui-k‘ê as a Buddhist monk, and after this he fled from the world altogether, and nothing much of his life is known. This was partly due to the persecution of Buddhism carried on by the Emperor of the Chou dynasty. It was in the twelfth year of K‘ai-huan, of the Sui dynasty (A.D. 592), that he found a disciple worthy to be his successor. His name was Tao-hsin.[4.40] He asked the master,

“Pray show me the way to deliverance.”

“Who has ever put you in bondage?”

“Nobody.”

“If so,” said the Master, “why should you ask for deliverance?”

This put the young novice on the way to final enlightenment, which he attained after many years’ study under the master. When Sêng-ts‘an thought that the time was ripe to consecrate him as his successor in the faith, he handed him as the token of the rightful transmission of the Law the robe which had come down from Bodhi-Dharma, the first patriarch of Zen in China. He died in A.D. 606. While much of his life is obscure, his thought is gleaned from a metrical composition known as _Hsin-hsin-ming_, or “Inscribed on the Believing Mind,” which is one of the most valuable contributions by the masters to the interpretation of Zen teaching. Here follows a somewhat liberal translation of the poem:

Inscribed on the Believing Mind.[f97][4.41]

The Perfect Way knows no difficulties
Except that it refuses to make preference:
Only when freed from hate and love,
It reveals itself fully and without disguise.
A tenth of an inch’s difference,
And heaven and earth are set apart:
If you want to see it manifest,
Take no thought either for or against it.

To set up what you like against what you dislike—
This is the disease of the mind:
When the deep meaning [of the Way] is not understood
Peace of mind is disturbed and nothing is gained.

[The Way is] perfect like unto vast space,
With nothing wanting, nothing superfluous:
It is indeed due to making choice
That its suchness is lost sight of.

Pursue not the outer entanglements,
Dwell not in the inner void;
When the mind rests serene in the oneness of things,
The dualism vanishes by itself.

And when oneness is not thoroughly understood,
In two ways loss is sustained—
The denial of reality may lead to its absolute negation,
While the upholding of the void may result in contradicting itself.
Wordiness and intellection—
The more with them the further astray we go;
Away therefore with wordiness and intellection,
And there is no place where we cannot pass freely.[f98]

When we return to the root, we gain the meaning;
When we pursue the external objects, we lose the reason.
The moment we are enlightened within,
We go beyond the voidness of a world confronting us.

Transformations going on in an empty world which confronts us,
Appear real all because of Ignorance:
Try not to seek after the true,
Only cease to cherish opinions.

Tarry not with dualism,
Carefully avoid pursuing it;
As soon as you have right and wrong,
Confusion ensues, the mind is lost.

The two exist because of the one,
But hold not even to this one;
When the one mind is not disturbed,
The ten thousand things offer no offence.

When no offence is offered by them, they are as if not existing;
When the mind is not disturbed, it is as if there is no mind.
The subject is quieted as the object ceases,
The object ceases as the subject is quieted.

The object is an object for the subject,
The subject is a subject for an object:
Know that the relativity of the two
Rests ultimately on the oneness of the void.

In the oneness of the void the two are one,
And each of the two contains in itself all the ten thousand things:
When no discrimination is made between this and that.
How can a one-sided and prejudiced view arise?

The Great Way is calm and large-minded,
Nothing is easy, nothing is hard:
Small views are irresolute,
The more in haste the tardier they go.

Clinging never keeps itself within bounds,
It is sure to go in the wrong way:
Let go loose, and things are as they may be,
While the essence neither departs nor abides.

Obey the nature of things, and you are in concord with the Way,
Calm and easy and free from annoyance;
But when your thoughts are tied, you turn away from the truth,
They grow heavier and duller and are not at all sound.

When they are not sound, the soul is troubled;
What is the use of being partial and one-sided then?
If you want to walk the course of the One Vehicle,
Be not prejudiced against the six sense-objects.

When you are not prejudiced against the six sense-objects,
You in turn identify yourself with Enlightenment;
The wise are non-active,
While the ignorant bind themselves up;
While in the Dharma itself there is no individuation,
They ignorantly attach themselves to particular objects.
It is their own minds that create illusions—
Is it not the greatest of self-contradictions?

Ignorance begets the dualism of rest and unrest,
The enlightened have no likes and dislikes:
All forms of dualism
Are ignorantly contrived by the mind itself.
They are like unto visions and flowers in the air:
Why should we trouble ourselves to take hold of them?
Gain and loss, right and wrong—
Away with them once for all!

If an eye never falls asleep,
All dreams will by themselves cease:
If the mind retains its oneness,
The ten thousand things are of one suchness.
When the deep mystery of one suchness is fathomed,
All of a sudden we forget the external entanglements:
When the ten thousand things are viewed in their oneness,
We return to the origin and remain what we are.

Forget the wherefore of things,
And we attain to a state beyond analogy:
Movement stopped is no movement,
And rest set in motion is no rest.
When dualism does no more obtain,
Even oneness itself remains not as such.

The ultimate end of things where they cannot go any further,
Is not bound by rules and measures:
The mind in harmony [with the Way] is the principle of identity
In which we find all doings in a quiescent state;
Irresolutions are completely done away with,
And the right faith is restored to its native straightness;
Nothing is retained now,
Nothing is to be memorised,
All is void, lucid, and self-illuminating,
There is no stain, no exertion, no wasting of energy—
This is where thinking never attains,
This is where the imagination fails to measure.

In the higher realm of True Suchness
There is neither “other” nor “self”:
When a direct identification is asked for,
We can only say, “Not two.”[f99]

In being not two all is the same,
All that is is comprehended in it:
The wise in the ten quarters,
They all enter into this absolute faith.

This absolute faith is beyond quickening [time] and
extension [space].
One instant is ten thousand years;
No matter how things are conditioned whether with “to be” or
“not to be,”
It is manifest everywhere before you.

The infinitely small is as large as large can be,
When external conditions are forgotten;
The infinitely large is as small as small can be,
When objective limits are put out of sight.

What is is the same with what is not,
What is not is the same with what is:
Where this state of things fails to obtain,
Be sure not to tarry.

One in all,
All in one—
If only this is realised,
No more worry about your not being perfect!

The believing mind is not divided,
And undivided is the believing mind—
This is where words fail,
For it is not of the past, future, or present.

Under Tao-hsin (580–651), the fourth patriarch, Zen was divided into two branches. The one known as Godzuzen (Niu-t‘ou Chan),[4.42] did not live long after the passing of its founder, Fa-jung,[4.43] who lived at Mount Niu-t‘ou, and is considered not belonging to the orthodox line of Zen. The other branch was headed by Hung-jên[4.44] who is regarded by historians as the fifth patriarch, and it is his school that has survived. He came to the master when he was still a mere boy, and what pleased his master at their interview was the way he answered. When Tao-hsin asked[4.45] what was his family name 姓 (_hsing_), he said,

“I have a nature 性 (_hsing_), and it is not an ordinary one.”

“What is that?”

“It is the Buddha-nature (_fo-hsing_).”

“Then you have no name?”

“No, master,” said the boy, “for it is empty in its nature.” Here is a play of words; the character denoting “family name” and that for “nature” are both pronounced _hsing_. When Tao-hsin was referring to the “family name” the young follower took it for “nature” purposely, whereby to express his view by a figure of speech.

Tao-hsin’s interview with Fa-jung, the founder of the Niu-t‘ou school of Zen, was significant, showing where their views differed and how the one came to be converted into the orthodox understanding of Zen. It was during the Chên-kuan era of the T‘ang dynasty that Tao-hsin, learning of the presence of an extraordinary saintly man in Niu-t’ou mountains, decided to see who he could be. When Tao-hsin came to a Buddhist temple in the mountains, he inquired after the man and was informed of a lonely anchorite who would never rise from his seat nor salute people even when they were approaching him. When Tao-hsin proceeded further into the mountains, he saw him as he was told sitting quietly and paying no attention to the presence of a stranger. He then asked the hermit what he was doing here. “I am contemplating on Mind,” was the reply. Tao-hsin then demanded, “What is he that is contemplating? What is Mind that is contemplated?” Fa-jung was not prepared to answer such questions. Thinking that the visitor was a man of deep understanding, he rose from the seat and saluting him asked who he was. When he found that the visitor was no other personage than Tao-hsin himself whose reputation he was not ignorant of, he thanked him for the visit. They were now about to enter a little hut near by where they might talk about religion, when Tao-hsin saw some wild animals such as tigers and wolves wandering about the place, and he threw up his hands as if he were greatly frightened. Fa-jung remarked, “I see this is still with you.” The fourth patriarch responded at once, “What do you see yet?” No answer came from the hermit. After a while the patriarch traced the character “Buddha” (_fo_) on the stone on which Fa-jung was in the habit of sitting in meditation. Seeing it, the latter looked as if shocked. Said the patriarch “I see this is still with you.” But Fa-jung failed to see the meaning of this remark and earnestly implored to be instructed in the ultimate teaching of Buddhism. This was done, and Fa-jung became the founder of the Niu-t‘ou school of Zen Buddhism.

Tao-hsin died at the age of seventy-two, A.D. 651.

Hung-jên, 605–675, the fifth patriarch, came from the same province as his predecessor, Ch‘i Chou, now in the district of Fu-pei. His temple was situated in Wang-mei Shan (Yellow Plum Mountain), where he preached and gave lessons in Zen to his five hundred pupils. He is claimed by some to have been the first Zen master who attempted to interpret the message of Zen according to the doctrine of the _Vajracchedikā-sūtra_. Though I cannot quite agree with this view for the reason already referred to elsewhere, we can consider the fifth patriarch the beginning of a turning in the history of Zen, which opened up to a full view under the sixth patriarch, Hui-nêng. Until now, the Zen followers had kept quiet, though working steadily, without arresting public attention; the masters had retired either into the mountains or in the hurly-burly of the world where nobody could tell anything about their doings. But the time had at last come for a full proclamation of Zen, and Hung-jên was the first who appeared in the field preparing the way for his successor, Hui-nêng.

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