Deshan's Encounter Dialogues

A great ancestor who has awakened has a heart wide open, utterly naked, freshly clean, without the faintest trace of obstruction. It's like clouds scattering across the open sky, the blue heavens fully revealed, their light boundless, shining out to the ten directions. In such a moment, across past and present, above and below, throughout the ten directions, you move freely—equal and unhindered at every moment and place. How could there be any gap between good and bad, right and wrong, being and nonbeing, correct and mistaken? Drift even slightly toward a direction, make the smallest choice, and a snag appears. So under a clear blue sky in broad daylight, one must not go on pointing east and gesturing west. This is what is called "holding firm."

When Zen practitioners meet, they face each other in speech and silence, presenting themselves face to face. When adepts encounter one another at such a moment, with this kind of condition, how could they merely toss around razor-sharp repartee and talk nonsense! There must be a fit like lid and box, a free and natural response to the occasion. Sometimes a raised fist, sometimes a whisk held aloft; sometimes laughter, sometimes scolding; sometimes words, sometimes silence; sometimes movement, sometimes stillness—each has its proper place. Like arrowheads meeting, exactly right. So depending on the time and the condition, one must give medicine according to the illness. This is what is called "letting go."

"The law allows not even a needle"—this is holding firm: no room for pointing east and gesturing west, lest you make a fool of yourself. "The private road lets carriages and horses through"—one must greatly let go, or you'll lose an eye. So how does one let go? How does one hold firm? Where should one let go? When must one hold firm? Please look at Case 4 of the Blue Cliff Record, "Deshan's Encounter Dialogues":

Deshan went to Weishan, carrying his travel bundle into the Dharma hall, walking from east to west, then from west to east, glancing around and saying, "Nothing! Nothing!" Then he went out. (Xuedou's note: "He saw through it.")

Deshan's staff and Linji's shout are famous throughout the Zen forest. These two great Chan virtuosos, Deshan and Linji, are the two great ancestors of that tradition of staff and shout crossing paths. Chan Master Deshan Xuanjian, lay surname Zhou, left home at twenty and studied the Vinaya in depth, working his way through the various suttas on nature and characteristics until he'd grasped their meaning. Originally a lecturer on the Diamond Sutra in Sichuan, he was known as Zhou Jingang and wrote a commentary on the Diamond Sutra called the Qinglong Shuchao. He'd heard that the southern Chan school was preaching seeing one's nature to become a Buddha, sudden awakening to the original, that this very moment is Buddha. He took this for demonic nonsense. According to the doctrinal teaching, one had to study a Buddha's deportment for a thousand kalpas and a Buddha's subtle practices for ten thousand kalpas before becoming a Buddha. These southern demon-sons dared to claim that this very mind is Buddha! Fired up, he shouldered his Qinglong Commentary and set off straight south to refute those demon-sons.

On the road, in Lizhou, he came upon an old woman by the wayside selling fried dough cakes. Hungry, he wanted to buy some for a snack. The old woman asked what he was carrying, and he told her it was his Qinglong Commentary, an exposition of the Diamond Sutra. The old woman said, "I have a question for you. If you can answer it, I'll offer you the cakes as a snack. If you can't, please go buy them somewhere else." Deshan said, "Ask away." The old woman said, "The Diamond Sutra says: the past mind cannot be grasped, the present mind cannot be grasped, the future mind cannot be grasped. Reverend, which mind would you like to order?" Deshan, so skilled at lecturing on the Diamond Sutra, had assumed he understood its subtleties and that no question could stump him—but here he was, stumped by an old woman. He stared blankly, unable to answer, and the old woman pointed him toward Chan Master Longtan Chongxin, who lived nearby.

When Deshan arrived at Longtan's place, he said at the door, "I've long been drawn to Longtan, but now that I'm here, neither the pool nor the dragon appears." Longtan stepped out from behind a screen and said, "You have already arrived at Longtan in person." Friends, how is it that with neither pool nor dragon appearing, one has personally arrived at Longtan? That was his way of guiding him. The Diamond Sutra says: if one sees that all forms are not forms, one sees the Tathagata. If he had seen a pool, if he had seen a dragon, he would have been caught in form. Not seeing pool, not seeing dragon—that is precisely to be free of form and to see the original nature. Moreover, our Buddha-nature is inherently free of form—free of all forms is what we call the Buddhas. Chan Master Longtan's words carried a double meaning! But Zhou Jingang, being thick-headed at the time, didn't enter into it on the spot; he simply bowed politely and withdrew. That evening, Deshan entered the master's room to ask about the teaching. He was skilled at lecturing on the Diamond Sutra and went on at length about its meaning, while Longtan merely said "yes, yes, yes," humoring him. It grew late, and Longtan said, "It's deep into the night—go down and rest." Deshan offered his thanks, lifted the curtain, and stepped out. He found it pitch dark outside, so dark he couldn't see his own hand. He went back in and said, "It's dark out there." Longtan rolled up a piece of paper to use as a candle, lit it, and handed it to Deshan. Just as Deshan took it, Longtan suddenly blew the flame out with a puff. Deshan was completely and suddenly enlightened, and at once bowed to Longtan. How can blowing out a candle lead to awakening? What's the principle at work here? If any of you can't pass through this, go back and investigate it well. Longtan said, "What have you seen that you bow?" Deshan replied, "From now on, I will never again doubt the words of any old monk in the world!"

The next day, Longtan ascended the hall and said, "There is a man here, teeth like a sword-tree, mouth like a basin of blood, who once struck will not turn back (ever since the old woman, he's already had two or three strikes!). In days to come, he will go off to the solitary peak and establish my Way there." Deshan piled his Qinglong Commentary in front of the Dharma hall, raised a torch, and said, "Exhaust all subtle disputation, and it's like a single hair set in the vast sky; drain the world's ingenuity, and it's like a drop cast into the great deep." From these words you can glimpse Deshan's brilliance—his Qinglong Commentary must have been a work of dazzling eloquence, flowers raining from the sky and golden lotuses springing from the earth. The vast sky and the great deep (the ocean) are metaphors for Buddha-nature; subtle disputation means the most refined reasoning; ingenuity means cleverness and wisdom. To exhaust every subtle argument is but like a single hair placed in empty space; to drain every worldly cleverness is but like a single drop cast into the ocean. Such is the boundlessness of Buddha-nature. And Deshan actually consigned to the flames the Qinglong Commentary he had poured his heart's blood into writing. After his enlightenment at the blown-out candle, he heard that Weishan's way was flourishing—fifteen hundred people under his care—and he wanted to meet an adept in encounter, so he set off for Weishan.

Chan Master Weishan Lingyou, founder of the Weiyang school, was a dharma heir of Baizhang and a dharma grandson of Mazu. Baizhang had sent him to dwell on Mount Weishan. The mountain was steep and trackless, with no human presence. Lingyou lived among monkeys, gathering acorns and chestnuts to keep himself alive, for six or seven years—yet no one came up the mountain. He thought to himself: I came here to benefit learners, but now no one comes or goes; why stay here as a self-fulfilled hermit? So he left his grass hut, preparing to go down the mountain and elsewhere. Reaching the pass, he found a pack of wolves, tigers, and leopards blocking the way. He said to them, "Don't try to block me. If I have a karmic connection with this mountain, you will each go your own way; if I have no connection, don't move—I'll walk forward and let you eat me." The words had barely fallen when the wolves, tigers, and leopards scattered in every direction, and Lingyou returned to his hut. Within a year, the senior monk Lan'an brought more than ten monks from Baizhang to assist him. The villagers below the mountain gradually heard of it and helped build a monastery. Learners slowly increased; not only did the local officials give their support, even Prime Minister Pei Xiu once came up the mountain to ask about the Dharma. It quickly became a great training center of fifteen hundred.

Deshan reached Weishan, carrying his travel bundle into the Dharma hall. A travel bundle is the cloth bag a traveling monk carries; "carrying his travel bundle" means having it in hand. He didn't even bother to open it, just walked into the Dharma hall with it on his back. From east to west, from west to east. Why this pacing? A Zen practitioner's every gesture is teaching—it's not only speech that teaches. Glancing around, he said, "Nothing! Nothing!" Glancing around means looking this way and that. Nothing! Nothing! There's nothing at all in your Dharma hall—not even my own walking back and forth. He was expressing total awakening. With that, he walked out of the Dharma hall under everyone's gaze. Xuedou appends the note, "He saw through it"—seeing through means seeing through someone's true identity. Friends, was it Deshan who saw through Weishan, Weishan who saw through Deshan, or Xuedou who saw through them both? What do you say—could you see through Xuedou, too? Every capping phrase has a tail, and here Xuedou has already shown his body in the grass! A true person of the Way, who sets up not a single dharma and hangs on to not a single thread—naked, freshly clean—only such a one corresponds to their own nature. If you have a "seeing through" hidden in your mind, the fox's tail is showing. Weishan was a master of the great brushstroke: he just sat there, unmoved, paying no attention, watching what tricks he had up his sleeve. This is the place where "the law allows not even a needle"—here, the slightest maneuver is half-formed; if there's even a trace of something, it isn't thorough. The first round of dharma combat, and Deshan had taken a loss.

Deshan reached the doorway, but said, "I shouldn't let this go so carelessly." He composed himself with proper bearing and went back in to meet him again. Weishan was seated, and Deshan raised his sitting cloth and said, "Reverend." Weishan was about to take up his whisk, when Deshan let out a shout, flicked his sleeves, and went out. (Xuedou's note: "He saw through it.") Deshan turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his sandals, and left.

Deshan reached the doorway and said, "I can't just leave it at that carelessly, taking a loss and walking off"—he wanted to go back and even the score. "Composed himself with proper bearing" means he observed proper deportment, showing due respect. Weishan was the ancestral teacher of the whole mountain; a guest ought to bow to the host. A sitting cloth is a square of cloth, made to a particular standard, used by monks—spread out when sitting, used as a cushion when bowing. Weishan was seated in the Dharma hall, and after Deshan had bowed in due form, he raised his sitting cloth and said, "Reverend." Deshan was using words to provoke Weishan into some response—he wanted to pull him into the water. Weishan was about to reach for his whisk—a whisk is a kind of duster, used here to strike with. You've come back for a rematch, using words to provoke, trying to pull me in—then you deserve a strike. But Deshan let out a shout—how quick he was! You want to hit me with the whisk, so I'll shout first, and won't even wait for the strike: he flicked his sleeves and was gone. There's a principle in the shout, too: you still have "this" here! You still want to take up the whisk! This is the shift between host and guest. When adepts meet, they turn responsively to the moment—otherwise they're stuck on one side. Xuedou appends his note again, "He saw through it." Friends, who sees through whom this time? Deshan turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his sandals, and left. The second round of dharma combat, and Deshan had gained the advantage. Did Weishan lose? Weishan was a great adept; he had his own way out.

That evening, Weishan asked the head monk, "Where has that newly arrived one gone?" The head monk said, "He turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his sandals, and went out." Weishan said, "This fellow will in future, on a solitary peak, build a grass hut and go off scolding Buddhas and ancestors." (Xuedou's note: "Frost on snow!")

Weishan was in no hurry; it was only in the evening that he calmly asked the head monk, "Where has that newly arrived one gone?" The head monk replied, "He turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his sandals, and went out." Weishan said, "This fellow will in future, on a solitary peak, build a grass hut and go off scolding Buddhas and ancestors." There was a barb in Weishan's words: you saw me reach for the whisk, and you hastily shouted and ran off; having gained the advantage, you hurried away—the fox's tail was already showing. It's like the spirit-turtle dragging its tail: it sweeps away its tracks but leaves the trail of its sweeping. Weishan was a great adept, and unhurried as evening came, he gently took hold of that fox tail and—with one quiet lift—finished the third round of dharma combat and brought the case to a close. Later, Deshan, staff in hand, sitting alone on a solitary peak, scolding Buddhas and ancestors, beating wind and rain, never escaped the reach of Weishan's unhurried words. So Xuedou appends: "Frost on snow."

Below is Xuedou's verse for this case:

One sees through, two sees through—frost on snow, and he once nearly fell.

The flying general enters the barbarian court—how many come back whole?

He hurries off, but is not let off—on the solitary peak, he sits in the grass. Phooey!

"One sees through" points to Deshan raising waves on a windless sea, piling a heap of bones on flat ground, wanting to meet Weishan as an adept, stirring up a battle of dharma to exchange what each had realized. But Weishan sat unmoved, steady as a fisherman on a calm bank, untouched by any of it, and Deshan had no choice but to retreat in defeat.

"Two sees through" points to Deshan, unwilling to accept defeat, going back for a rematch. He bowed, called out "Reverend," and provoked Weishan into reaching for his whisk to strike him. Relying on his youth, his sharp eyes, quick mouth, and nimble feet, he shouted and was gone, gaining the upper hand, winning the second round. One shouldn't press one's luck, though: he turned his back on the Dharma hall, put on his sandals, and hurried down the mountain. What a narrow escape! If his eyes, mouth, and feet hadn't been quick, the whisk would have landed on his body. This is the "once nearly fell" of Xuedou's verse.

"Frost on snow" points to Weishan's extraordinary steadiness—unhurried, drawing the bow only after the thief has passed, and still hitting the mark with perfect aim. Calmly waiting until evening to question the head monk, he steadily faced the assembly and gave his appraisal of Deshan. If he hadn't been a worthy guide for fifteen hundred people, how could he have wielded such skill? Weishan was no ordinary figure: he founded the Weiyang school, a great brushstroke of an ancestral master. For Deshan to have gained the upper hand on him at all is already remarkable.

"The flying general enters the barbarian court—how many come back whole?" The "flying general" refers to Li Guang, the Flying General of Emperor Wu of Han's time. "Enters the barbarian court" means penetrating deep into the Xiongnu-occupied lands. Once, Li Guang was ordered through Yanmen Pass to resist the Xiongnu. The Xiongnu chieftain, the Chanyu, laid a series of ambushes, and Li Guang, vastly outnumbered, was actually taken alive. Li Guang pretended to have been gravely wounded, and they slung him in a net between two horses. He stole a glance and saw a Xiongnu soldier nearby mounted on a fine horse, suddenly leaped onto it, knocked the rider to the ground, took his bow and arrows, and raced southward. The Xiongnu pursued, but Li Guang's arrows never missed, driving back the pursuers, and he made his escape. How many generals could pull off such a feat of escaping death? Hence the line, "How many come back whole?" It's a metaphor for Deshan: unwilling to accept defeat in the dharma combat, he went back to meet the master again, relying on his quick hands and keen eye to gain the advantage—just like the Flying General Li Guang's escape from the jaws of death.

"He hurries off, but is not let off—on the solitary peak, he sits in the grass. Phooey!" "He hurries off" refers to Deshan, having gained the upper hand, putting on his sandals and hurrying down the mountain. "Is not let off" refers to Weishan not letting him off: calmly waiting until evening, he commented, "This fellow will in future, on a solitary peak, build a grass hut and go off scolding Buddhas and ancestors"—saying he would one day sit in the grass on a solitary peak. This is called "descending into the grass" to help others. Opening a hall to teach, guiding the assembly, propagating the dharma and benefiting beings—this is descending into the grass. Fundamentally, there is nothing to any of it, yet one still has to ascend the hall in the morning and enter the room in the evening. Guiding the assembly always requires speech: this way, that way—endless talk, in the end, all empty talk. But any words that are spoken have no real meaning; the true meaning is not in the words. True Buddha-nature cannot be spoken of, cannot be conceived. Pointing east and gesturing west, prattling on and on—isn't that descending into the grass!

Phooey! Originally the seas are calm and the rivers clear, the world is at peace—why are you off there pointing east and gesturing west, prattling on and on!