Śākyamuni Sees the Morning Star

Keizan's commentary

Śākyamuni Buddha belonged to the solar clan of the western land. At nineteen he crossed the city walls at midnight and cut off his hair on Mount Dantaka. From then on he practiced austerities for six years. At last he sat upon the diamond seat. Spiders webbed between his brows, magpies nested on his crown, and reeds pierced his seat. Settled securely and unmoving, he sat upright for six years. When he was thirty, on the eighth day of the twelfth month, the morning star appeared. He suddenly awakened to the Way, and his first lion's roar was the statement above.² For the next forty-nine years he never spent a day alone or let even a short interval pass without teaching the community. He was never without his single robe and bowl. He taught repeatedly in more than three hundred and sixty assemblies, and at last entrusted the treasury of the true Dharma eye to Mahākāśyapa. Its transmission has continued to the present. It has passed through the three countries of India, China, and Japan, where the conduct of the Buddha's life became the standard for practicing the true Dharma. Although tradition credits him with the thirty-two marks and eighty excellent features, he always had the form of an old monk and looked no different from anyone else.³ Thus, from the Buddha's lifetime through the ages of true Dharma, semblance Dharma, and final Dharma, those who follow his model take up the Buddha's form and live the Buddha's life. Walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, every moment begins from the self. Buddha after buddha and ancestor after ancestor have transmitted this directly, and the true Dharma has not been cut off.⁴ Now I will point out this episode clearly. The teachings given over forty-nine years in more than three hundred and sixty assemblies may differ, but none of their many episodes, metaphors, and statements goes beyond the principle here. The “I” spoken of here is not Śākyamuni Buddha. Śākyamuni Buddha himself comes forth from this “I.” Nor is he alone: the great earth and all its sentient beings come forth from it as well. When the main cord of a net is raised, every mesh rises with it. When Śākyamuni Buddha awakens to the Way, the great earth and its sentient beings awaken. Nor do they awaken alone: all buddhas of past, present, and future awaken. Even so, there is no thought in Śākyamuni that he has awakened. Do not look for Śākyamuni Buddha outside the great earth and sentient beings. Mountains, rivers, the great earth, and all the crowded forms of the world—rank upon rank—never escape the inside of Gautama's eye. All of you stand inside Gautama's eye too. You do more than stand there: that eye has already been exchanged for the people now before me. Gautama's eye becomes this lump of living flesh, while each person's whole body rises sheer as a cliff ten thousand fathoms high.⁵ So do not imagine that, spanning past and present, there is a bright and shining eye on one side and, on the other, a set of clearly separate people. You are Gautama's eye. Gautama is your entire body. If this is so, what could you call the principle of awakening to the Way? Let me ask the assembly: does Gautama awaken together with you, or do you awaken together with Gautama? If you say either that you awaken with Gautama or that Gautama awakens with you, it is not Gautama's awakening at all. It cannot be made into the principle of awakening. If you wish to understand that principle intimately, sweep away Gautama and all of you at once. Quickly know the “I.” The “with” of “I” is the great earth and its sentient beings. The “I” of “with” is not old Gautama. Examine this closely. Consider it closely. Clarify the “I” and know the “with.” Even if you clarify “I,” failing to clarify “with” costs you one eye.⁶ And yet the “I” and the “with” are neither one thing nor two. Your skin, flesh, bones, and marrow are all exactly “with.” The master within the house is the “I.” It carries no skin, flesh, bones, or marrow, and no four elements or five aggregates. In the final account: If you wish to know the undying person in the hut, How could that one be apart from this present skin-bag?⁷ Therefore do not turn “the great earth and sentient beings” into an understanding. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter turn and change. Mountains, rivers, and the great earth alter with the time. Know that all of this is old Gautama raising his brows and blinking his eyes. Hence: Amid the myriad forms, The body stands exposed alone. Sweep away the myriad forms? Do not sweep them away? Hōgen said, “What are you talking about—sweeping or not sweeping?” Jizō said, “What do you call ‘the myriad forms’?”⁸ So investigate across and through. Penetrate in every direction. Directly clarify the place of Gautama's awakening and understand your own awakening to the Way. See such a case closely. Let every word flow from your own breast, without borrowing the phrases of earlier buddhas or people of the present. The next time you come to request instruction, offer your own turning phrase and state the principle. This mountain monk also wishes to append humble words beneath the case. Do you want to hear them?