Chimon's Essence and Function of Prajñā

Engo's commentary on the case

Chimon's two answers both use the meaning of mid-autumn. Yet the ancient's intent is not on oyster or rabbit. As an elder of Unmon's assembly, one phrase had to contain three: the phrase enveloping heaven and earth, the phrase cutting off the many streams, and the phrase following waves and pursuing currents. No arrangement is needed; it is naturally exact. He answers at the perilous point and reveals a small edge. The oyster answer draws on lore that Han River oysters contain bright pearls and rise at the mid-autumn moon, opening to receive its light and thereby producing pearls such as those of Hepu. A moonlit autumn was said to yield more pearls. The rabbit answer uses corresponding lore: the rabbit belongs to yin, opens its mouth at the mid-autumn moon, swallows light, conceives, and gives birth through the mouth; more moon was said to mean more young. Chimon borrows these images to answer about prajñā's light. His intent is not in words, though later people make livelihoods there. Banzan said: “The mind-moon is solitary and full; its light swallows all forms. Light does not illuminate an object, nor does the object remain. Light and object both gone—what is it?” People now stare and call something light, creating an emotional interpretation and driving a stake into empty space. An ancient said the six faculty-gates emit great light day and night, illuminating mountains and rivers—not only the eye but nose, tongue, body, and mind. Here one must settle the six faculties until not one speck remains, cleanly naked and freely bare. Setchō's first line sees the ancient's intent. When the six faculties are clear and still, what is it? This empty, bright, congealed stillness need not be sought in heaven or another person; constant light naturally appears. It stands like a cliff, cut off from verbal predicates and emotional dust. Hōgen's verse on perfected reality says that at the extreme of principle emotional predication is forgotten, and uses frost-night moon, ripe fruit weighing a monkey, distant mountains, and evening light to show it. Other verses compare mind and dharmas to marks on a mirror, or a divine light making ten thousand objects idle without argument over right and wrong. “Humans and gods see the Emptiness-Born.” Subhūti sat in a cliff cave while gods rained flowers. Brahmā praised him for teaching prajñāpāramitā. Subhūti said he had not spoken one word; Brahmā answered, “The honored one did not speak and I did not hear. No speaking and no hearing is true prajñā.” Earth shook and flowers fell again. Subhūti does not speak of essence and function. See this and one sees Chimon's answers. Though intent is not in phrases, the response has a deep purport, prompting Setchō's merged oyster-and-dark-rabbit line. Zen practitioners have noisily disputed it, without one dreaming of the point. To study together with Chimon and Setchō, use your own eye.