Unmon—Everyone Has Light

Engo's commentary on the case

Unmon posed sayings in his room to receive people. Beneath each person's heels is a portion of light whose radiance surges through past and present, far beyond seeing and knowing. Yet when questioned, they do not understand; is that not dark and dim? For twenty years no one understood. Kōrin later asked for a proxy answer. Unmon gave two, though such answers ordinarily use one. “Kitchen-storeroom and triple gate” opens a narrow road so you may see. A real fellow hears it and immediately acts. Fearing attachment, Unmon adds “A good thing is not as good as nothing” and sweeps it away. People hear “light,” stare, and ask where the kitchen and gate are—entirely unrelated. Recognize the intent at the hook; do not take the calibrating star as fixed. This affair is neither on the eye nor on the object. Cut off knowing and views, forget gain and loss, and investigate on your own share. Unmon said: by daylight you travel and distinguish people. At midnight without sun, moon, or lamp, can you retrieve one object from a place never visited? The Cantong qi says, “Within light there is dark; do not meet it as dark. Within dark there is light; do not see it as light.” If light and dark are both cut off, what is it? Banzan said, “Light does not illuminate an object; the object does not remain. Light and object both forgotten—what is it?” And: “This very seeing and hearing is not seeing and hearing; no other sound or form can be presented. If this is understood, there is no affair; why must essence and function be divided or not?” Understand the final phrase, then play with the earlier. Do not make a livelihood inside it. “With nonabiding as basis, establish all dharmas.” Do not play with light, shadow, or spirits; do not interpret it as nothing to do. Better a view of existence as large as Sumeru than a nihilistic view as small as a mustard seed. Beneath one's own heels this light is originally present, though ordinarily used darkly. Unmon arrays it before you as kitchen-storeroom and triple gate. Banzan called it the solitary full moon of mind whose light swallows all forms—true constancy alone exposed. Then Setchō opens one thread, also fearing attachment to the buildings. Set them aside: morning flowers fall, the tree loses its shadow, sun sets, moon darkens, and heaven and earth are black. Do you still see? “When looking, who does not see?” Who is it that does not? Here dark within light and light within dark are visible like steps before and behind. “Seeing—not seeing” verses “a good thing is not as good as nothing”: one ought to see yet does not, ought to be bright yet is not. “Ride an ox backward into the Buddha hall”—enter the lacquer bucket yourself and see what principle this is.