Jōshū's “Just This: The Utmost Way Is Not Difficult”

Engo's commentary on the case

Jōshū said, “Just this: ‘The utmost Way is not difficult; it only detests picking and choosing.’” Like fire struck from stone or a flash of lightning, he captures and releases, kills and gives life with such freedom. Every quarter says that Jōshū possessed eloquence surpassing the crowd. Jōshū ordinarily had this teaching for the assembly: “The utmost Way is not difficult; it only detests picking and choosing. As soon as there is speech, it is picking and choosing—it is clarity. This old monk is not within clarity. Do you people still guard and cherish it, or not?” At the time a monk asked, “Since you are not within clarity, what is there to guard and cherish?” Jōshū said, “I too do not know.” The monk said, “Reverend, since you do not know, why do you say you are not within clarity?” Jōshū said, “It is enough that you have asked about the matter. Bow and withdraw.” Later, the monk in the present case picked out precisely this crack and went to question him. His way of questioning was undeniably extraordinary, but regrettably it was only the activity of mind. If it had been anyone else, they could not have handled him. But Jōshū was an adept and immediately said, “Why do you not cite the saying to the end?” This monk too knew how to turn his body and breathe out. He said, “I recite it only to this point,” as if it had all been arranged beforehand. Jōshū picked it up following the sound and answered, without needing calculation. The ancients called this: “Seamless continuation is exceedingly difficult.” He distinguished dragons from snakes and separated auspicious from ominous—credit him as an adept of the original share. Jōshū exchanged this monk's eyes without encountering the sharp edge and without lodging in calculation. Naturally, it fit exactly. You cannot call it a phrase of being. You cannot call it a phrase of nonbeing. You cannot call it a phrase of neither being nor nonbeing. Depart from the four propositions and cut off the hundred negations.² Why? When this matter is discussed, it is like fire struck from stone or a flash of lightning. Only by looking urgently can you see. If you deliberate and hesitate, you cannot avoid losing body and life. Setchō's verse says. The base text adds that the two characters of 躊躇 are pronounced chóu and chú and mean hesitating without advancing.³ “Water cannot wet it. Wind cannot enter. The tiger steps; the dragon moves. Ghosts wail; spirits weep.” There is no place for you to peck or bite. These four lines versify Jōshū's answer, which greatly resembles a dragon racing and tiger charging. This monk gets only one whole display of embarrassment. It is not only this monk: even ghosts are made to wail and spirits to weep, like grass bending when wind moves. The final two lines can be called one move that hits home: “A head three feet long—who knows who this is? Facing each other without words, he stands on one leg.” Have you not heard that a monk asked an ancient worthy, “What is Buddha?” The ancient worthy said, “A head three feet long and a neck two inches long.” Setchō draws on this saying.³ I do not know whether all of you recognize him. This mountain monk does not recognize him either. Setchō has drawn Jōshū's whole body at once. He is truly there within it. All of you must focus your eyes and look carefully.