Nansen's White Ox

Banshō's commentary on the case

Dharma Master Jiezhu of Feishan wrote a Discussion of the Mind-Dharma Separately Transmitted attacking Nansen: “People of Nansen's kind do not delight in study and do not know the source. They are unfit to discuss the Tathāgata's teaching.” The compilers of the Inexhaustible Lamp appended a defense, straightforwardly recounting that Nansen first studied Vinaya, then heard the Huayan and Lankāvatāra, and entered the contemplations of the Middle Treatise and Hundred Treatise. Hearing that Baso transmitted a Way beyond words, he repeatedly pressed its intent and suddenly forgot the trap.³ One day, while Nansen was serving gruel, Baso asked, “What is in the bucket?” Nansen said, “Old fellow, shut your mouth! Why make such a remark?” Nansen did not defer to Baso at the critical moment. Later, however, he repaid the debt in Jōshū's hands. Nansen asked a lecturer, “What does the Nirvāṇa Sutra take as ultimate?” The lecturer said, “Suchness as such is ultimate.” Nansen said, “The moment you call it suchness, it has already changed. Monastics today must walk among different kinds.” In front of the monks' hall Jōshū asked, “I do not ask about ‘different.’ What is ‘the same kind’?” Nansen put both hands on the ground. Jōshū stepped on him once, and Nansen fell. Jōshū ran into the longevity hall crying, “Regret! Regret!” Nansen sent the attendant to ask, “What do you regret?” Jōshū said, “I regret not stepping on him twice more.”⁴ Nansen ascended the hall and said, “Old Teacher Wang has raised a water buffalo since youth. If I pasture it east of the stream, it inevitably eats the state's water and grass. If I pasture it west, it again inevitably eats the state's water and grass. Now I cannot avoid paying a little according to my share, yet altogether it cannot be seen.” One day Nansen saw the bath master heating the bath and said, “After the meal, invite the water buffalo to bathe.” The bath master went to invite him. Nansen asked, “Did you bring the rope?” Jōshū pulled Nansen's nose with his hand. Nansen said, “That is right, but far too rough.”⁴ Jōshū asked, “Where does a person who knows there is go?” Nansen said, “To the donor's house in front of the mountain, to become a water buffalo.” Jōshū said, “Thank you for the instruction.” Nansen said, “Last night at the third watch, the moon reached the window.” When Nansen was about to pass away, the head seat asked, “After the Reverend's hundred years, where will you go?” Nansen said, “Down the mountain, to become a water buffalo.” The head seat asked, “May I follow the Reverend?” Nansen said, “If you follow me, you must carry one stalk of grass in your mouth.”⁵ Nansen first sang out this talk of different kinds; Isan harmonized with it; Dōgo and Ungan transmitted it; later it became Sōzan's “three falls.” When Dōgo arrived at Nansen, Nansen asked, “Acarya, what is your name?” Dōgo said, “Zongzhi—Source Wisdom.” Nansen asked, “Where wisdom does not reach, how do you source it?” Dōgo said, “Take particular care not to speak of it.” Nansen said, “Clearly, if it is spoken, horns grow on the head.” Three days later Dōgo and Ungan were behind the rack sewing. Nansen passed and asked, “The other day you said, ‘Where wisdom does not reach, take particular care not to speak. If spoken, horns grow.’ How should one conduct oneself there?” Dōgo immediately withdrew into the monks' hall. Nansen left. Ungan asked Dōgo, “Why did younger brother not respond to the Reverend just now?” Dōgo said, “You are exceedingly clever.” Ungan did not grasp it and went to ask Nansen why Dōgo had not answered. Nansen said, “He is walking among different kinds.” Ungan asked, “What is walking among different kinds?” Nansen said, “Have you not heard: ‘Where wisdom does not reach, take particular care not to speak. If spoken, horns grow’? You must directly walk among different kinds.” Ungan still did not understand. Dōgo knew Ungan had not grasped it and said, “This person's conditions are not here.” He returned with him to Yakusan. Ungan raised the preceding story. Yakusan asked, “How did you understand him at that time, before you came back?” Ungan had no answer. Yakusan laughed loudly. Ungan then asked, “What is walking among different kinds?” Yakusan said, “I am tired today. Come another time.” Ungan said, “I returned especially for this matter.” Yakusan said, “Go for now.” Ungan went out. Dōgo was outside the abbot's quarters. Hearing that Ungan had not grasped it, he involuntarily bit his finger until blood came out. He went down and asked, “Elder brother, when you asked the Reverend about that encounter, what happened?” Ungan said, “The Reverend did not explain it to me.” Dōgo lowered his head.⁶ The two stood in attendance. Yakusan asked about “where wisdom does not reach, take care not to speak; if spoken, horns grow.” Dōgo immediately said, “Take care,” and went out. Ungan asked Yakusan, “Why did younger brother not respond to the Reverend?” Yakusan said, “My back hurts today. He understands; go ask him.” Ungan asked Dōgo, “Why did younger brother not respond just now?” Dōgo said, “My head hurts today. Go ask the Reverend.” After Ungan passed away, a messenger rushed his farewell letter to Dōgo. Reading it, Dōgo said, “Ungan did not know there is. I regret that at the time I did not tell him. Even so, he did not violate being Yakusan's son.”⁷ Xuanjue said, “When the ancient spoke this way, did he know there is or not? At the time Ungan did not understand—where was his non-understanding?” Zhi of Suigan said, “Dōgo said, ‘Ungan did not know there is; I regret that at the time I did not tell him.’ Speaking this way, did Dōgo know there is or not?” Banshō says: Ungan was Dongshan's teacher and source of one branch, yet again and again he did not know this matter. Banshō has recorded it fully to give later people a side investigation and half a measure of help. Not only did Ungan not know there is. Zhi of Suigan asks whether Dōgo knew. Banshō says: not only Dōgo—does Suigan know there is? Have you not seen? A monk asked Chōsa, “Why do the buddhas of the three times not know there is?” Chōsa said, “Before entering the Deer Park, they were still somewhat closer.” The monk asked, “Why do cats and white oxen instead know there is?” Chōsa said, “How can you blame them?” At this point Banshō can only watch from the side. Great Tendō has a share in praise. “Limping and dragging” describes a withered, feeble, unquick appearance.² Once, while Yakusan was reading a scripture, Baiyan said, “Reverend, stop teasing people.” Yakusan rolled up the scripture and asked, “Is the day early or late?” Baiyan said, “The sun is precisely at noon.” Yakusan said, “There is still this pattern present.” Baiyan said, “This one does not even have ‘not having.’” Yakusan said, “You are exceedingly clever.” Baiyan said, “This one is simply like this. What is the Reverend's honored intent?” Yakusan said, “I limp and drag, with a hundred uglinesses and a thousand clumsinesses. I just get by like this.”² Reverend Xian of Guanxi versified: Shaking out the patched robe worn through for many years, half its shaggy tatters follow clouds in flight. Pick it up and drape it over the shoulder: it still surpasses people today wearing brocade. Not one of a hundred worth taking, fit for not one thing; among the assembly like a hundredfold clumsy person, for a lifetime an idle person. Silently, he himself knows his ground is secure. Freely, freely—who says his belly is foolish? The brahmacārin wore the unidentified garment or footwear reversed. Everyone called it wrong. He said, “I would rather prick your eyes than hide my feet.”⁸ Wang Fanzhi was an extraordinary person, and this saying circulated widely among people. One may call him a hide lantern-ball: bright within and dark outside. The final line versifies investigation so full it reaches the ground of rotten antiques. Rice grains cover eyebrows and eyelashes. One morning the scabby belly bursts, and all five viscera, heart, and liver are vomited out.