Kinzan's One Arrowhead Breaks Three Barriers

Engo's commentary on the case

Zen traveler Liang was undeniably a battle commander. In Kinzan's hands he wheeled left and turned right, dropped the whip and dodged the stirrup. At the end, regrettably, his bow broke and his arrows were exhausted. Even so, General Li had his own excellent reputation; his failure to be enfeoffed as a marquis is beside the point.² In this public case there is one exit and one entry, one capture and one release. Face to face, the responsive moment is raised; face to face, response at the moment is swift. None of it falls into being or nonbeing, gain or loss. This is called the dark mechanism. If the least bit of strength is lacking, there is immediately a stumble. This monk too was an inspired patch-robed monk. The question he presented undeniably startled the crowd. Kinzan was an adept lineage teacher and immediately knew where the head of his question came down. 鏃 means an arrowhead. Liang's question was, “What is it like when one arrow shoots through three barriers?” Kinzan's intent was: set aside your having shot through them; try releasing the lord within the barriers and let me see. Liang said, “If so, then knowing a fault, one must correct it.” This too is undeniably extraordinary. Kinzan said, “What further time are you waiting for?” See him respond in this way: Kinzan's question left not the slightest empty gap. Afterward Zen traveler Liang instead said, “A fine arrow, shot where it should not land,” flicked his sleeves, and went straight out. As soon as Kinzan saw him speak this way, he called, “Come back a moment, Reverend.” Liang, sure enough unable to hold himself, turned his head. Kinzan captured him and said, “Set aside one arrowhead breaking through three barriers. Try shooting an arrow for me, Kinzan, and let me see.” Liang began to deliberate. Kinzan immediately struck him seven times, then followed him by chanting a spell: “Let this fellow go on doubting for thirty years.” Meditation monks today all ask, “Why did he not strike eight times, or six times, but only seven?” Others say that when Kinzan asked, “Try shooting an arrow for me and let me see,” he should immediately have struck. It resembles the case, but it is still not right.¹ For this public case, you must harbor not the least rational calculation in your breast and go beyond language. Only then can you have a phrase that breaks three barriers and a place from which to release the arrow. If you retain right and wrong, in the end you will not get hold of it. At that time, if this monk had been a real fellow, Kinzan too would have been in great peril. Since Liang could not carry out this command, Kinzan could not avoid carrying it out in reverse. Tell me: ultimately, who is the lord within the barriers? See Setchō's verse: Several lines of this verse take words from a verse by Guizong. Long ago Guizong composed this verse on the occasion; it was entitled “Guizong,” and within the lineage it was called an expression of the lineage's purport. Later, when Tong'an heard it, he said, “Reverend Liang knows well how to shoot an arrow, but in the essential matter he does not know how to hit the target.” A monk immediately asked, “How can one hit the target?” Tong'an said, “Who is the lord within the barriers?” Later a monk related this to Kinzan. Kinzan said, “If Reverend Liang were like that, he still could not escape Kinzan's mouth.” Even so, Tong'an did not have good intentions. Setchō says, “For you, I release the lord within the barriers.” Open your eyes and you are hit; close your eyes and you are hit. Formed and formless are all cut into three sections. “Those who shoot arrows must not be reckless.” If one knows well how to shoot, one is not reckless. If one does not know how, the recklessness is evident. “Take an eye—the ear must be deaf. Relinquish an ear—both eyes go blind.” Tell me: when you take an eye, why does the ear instead go deaf? When you relinquish an ear, why do both eyes instead go blind? Only with no taking or relinquishing in these words can you penetrate them. If there is taking and relinquishing, they are difficult to see. “Pitiful: one arrowhead breaks through three barriers. Perfectly clear is the road after the arrow.” Zen traveler Liang asked, “What is it like when one arrowhead breaks through three barriers?” Kinzan said, “Release the lord within the barriers and let me see.” Down through Tong'an's later public case, all of it is the road after the arrow. Ultimately, what is it like? “Have you not seen—Gensha had a saying: ‘A great person, before heaven, is the ancestor of mind.’” Ordinarily, mind is taken as the ancestral source and ultimate standard. Why, here, before heaven and earth were born, is someone still the ancestor of this mind? Only when you recognize this time can you recognize the lord within the barriers and the perfectly clear road after the arrow. If you want to hit the target, there is clearly a road after the arrow. Tell me: what is that road? You yourself must arouse your full vitality. “A great person, before heaven, is the ancestor of mind.” Gensha often used this saying to instruct the assembly. Yet this verse was actually Guizong's; Setchō mistakenly used it as a saying of Gensha.³ Students today who take this mind as the ancestral source could investigate until Maitreya Buddha descends and still would not understand. For a real great person, mind is still a child or grandchild; even “before heaven and earth were divided” is already secondary. Tell me: precisely at such a time, what is before heaven and earth?