Chūyū's Macaque

Banshō's commentary on the case

Zen Master Hong'en of Chūyū in Langzhou—the Zongmen tongyao has Dingzhou—was one of Baso's more than eighty great spiritual friends. In lineage terms, he belonged to Kyōzan's great-granduncle generation. Kyōzan received ordination in Jiangling and, on his return, went to express thanks for the precepts. Seeing that Kyōzan was young, Chūyū explained the meaning of buddha-nature through the macaque answering at six windows, like patting the breast to coax a small child.³ Kyōzan concealed his troops and turned the contest. Unable to suppress his smile, after bowing in thanks he said, “Now, through the venerable's analogy, there is nothing I do not understand. But there is one more matter. When the macaque inside has dozed off and the macaque outside wants to meet it, what then?” How extraordinary! A true lion cub immediately showed the claws and teeth of the Dharma cave. Without noticing himself do it, Chūyū descended from the meditation seat, took Kyōzan's hand, danced, and said, “Monkey! You and I have met.” Why did he not offer another analogy? Yunju Xi said, “If Chūyū had not received this sentence from Kyōzan then, where would there be a Chūyū?”⁴ My late teacher and senior uncle Shengmo were revered in the communities for more than twenty years. Master Bao of Zhengzhou had a name that shook the regions north and south of the Yellow River. During his wide-ranging pilgrimage, my late teacher went to see him. Bao said, “Brother, you are young and vigorous; this is exactly the time to inquire and investigate. In those years, thought after thought, this old monk always made the Buddha Dharma his affair.” My late teacher left his seat, came forward, and asked, “And how is the venerable now?” Bao said, “It is like a living enemy.” My late teacher said, “Had I not received this statement, I would nearly have traveled a thousand li in vain.” Bao descended from his meditation seat, grasped my late teacher's hand, and said, “An expert!” He then kept him there for several days. Kassan described Foji as “one bean exploding inside dead ashes,” apparently referring to this. Xuanjue said, “If it were not for Kyōzan, how could Chūyū have been seen?” Now say: at what point did Kyōzan see Chūyū? Banshō says: On the Dharma-hall platform at Bao'en. Chongshou Chou said, “Is there anyone who can determine this principle? If you cannot determine it, it is only the hand-and-foot movement of a manipulating spirit. Where is the meaning of buddha-nature?” Banshō says: Discern it upon the very movements of that manipulating spirit.⁵ Fojian said, “Kyōzan plays the fool; Chūyū shows off his cleverness. Cleverness displayed becomes foolishness; foolishness released becomes cleverness. Though the macaque has fallen asleep, what can be done about the alertness within its belly? Even if the six windows are completely cut off, where do the monkeys fail to meet?” Do you want to see the errors of these two old men? Each has facial skin three inches thick. Banshō says: Try finding someone who knows shame—you cannot. Only old Tendō is a little better. The Biographies of Former Worthies of Runan says that once snow accumulated more than a zhang deep. The magistrate of Luoyang went out personally to inspect the area. He saw people clearing snow to go out, including some who begged for food. When he reached Yuan An's gate, there was no path. Thinking Yuan An had died, he ordered people to clear the snow. Entering the house, they found Yuan An lying rigid. Asked why he had not gone out, Yuan An said, “In a great snow everyone is hungry. It would be wrong to impose upon others.” The magistrate considered him worthy and nominated him as Filial and Incorrupt.⁶ This versifies Chūyū explaining through analogy. Once he mounts sleep talk, he is never fully alert: “Deep and secluded, the vine-covered gate does not open at night.” Suddenly Kyōzan exposes him. Chūyū then functions with his whole body: a dead tree returns to the warmth, and the spring wind stirs the ashes in the pitch pipes. Cai Yong's Monthly Ordinances says that bamboo is cut into tubes called pitch pipes. They are placed in a sealed chamber, and ashes from reed membranes are packed into their ends. When the seasonal breath for a given month arrives, the ashes fly and the tube empties. Yang breath is born: alive within death.⁷ It is like the expert meeting of Chūyū and Kyōzan. After they have met, what then? I will not trouble you to stand here longer.