Wanshi and the Empty Kalpa

Keizan's commentary

The teacher's personal name was Zongjue. He had long served as Wukong's attendant, studying by day and by night, across and upright. Yet there was still something in him that was not empty. Wukong asked, “How is your seeing lately?” The teacher said, “I too would say, ‘Just this.’” Wukong said, “Not yet. Say more.” Truly, saying that the present is “just this” still contains an unfinished place. Although he understood what comes as just-this, he did not know that there is one who comes as not-just-this. He thought: the whole body is completely exposed with nothing concealed—what insufficiency could remain? Therefore he asked, “How is it not yet?” One who understands in this way has reached something like white clouds scattered and exhausted, with the green mountain rising alone. Yet he still does not know that there is a mountain higher than the mountain. Therefore Wukong said, “Did you not say it? Speak—still not. You have not penetrated the matter beyond.” Although all that has been studied in this way is the matter beyond, there is still the fault of not knowing there is something further. Hence Wukong said, “In truth, you still have not been able to say it.” Zongjue nevertheless brought out another statement and turned his thought: “Even if the matter beyond could be spoken, I could not bring it forth for the reverend.” But he had fallen into two and three. There is a place where not one point can be added. Because Zongjue did not yet know himself and still clung to a joint, Wukong said, “In truth, you still have not been able to say it.” At that time his breath was exhausted and his strength had reached its end. He respectfully asked, “What is the matter beyond?” Wukong said, “I too would say, ‘Not just this.’”⁴ The earlier saying and this present saying are farther apart than any discussion of heaven and earth, more separate than the comparison of water and fire. Zongjue had thought the whole body was manifest. Wukong did not agree. Zongjue had only said, “Just this”; it was merely solitary brightness standing distinctly. For the first time he found the place where he knew his error and received confirmation. After he appeared in the world and spoke for people, a monk asked, “What is the way?” The teacher said, “At the crossroads, stop shading your forehead to search.”⁵ On another occasion he ascended the hall and said: Step before the kalpa; place the body crosswise beyond the world. Wondrous accord cannot be reached by thought. True verification cannot be transmitted by words. Directly attain empty stillness and gather in the vital breath: white clouds break off toward the cold cliff. Numinous light breaks through darkness: the bright moon comes following the night boat. Precisely at such a time, how do you proceed and practice? Relative and absolute have never left the original position; freely crossing and ranging, how could they depend upon verbal circumstances?⁶ Truly, empty stillness has no limit. Though the tongue speaks of it, there is no separation. Knowing the matter beyond should be like this. To explain mind or explain nature—none of this is the matter beyond. Yet some merely say, “Mountain is mountain; water is water,” and think this is the matter beyond. This is directly a mistake. Dongshan said, “Only after embodying the matter beyond buddhas does one have some share in speech.” A monk immediately asked, “What is that speech?” Dongshan said, “While I am speaking, ācārya, you do not hear.” Banzan also said, “The single road beyond is not transmitted by a thousand sages.” It truly is not the ordinary condition people speak of as wandering freely according to one's nature.⁷ A monk also asked Zen Master Wukong, “What is the matter beyond like?” Wukong said, “The wonder is before the first bubble. How could it admit the eyes of a thousand sages?” The “first bubble” spoken of here is the incipient emergence of one's own body. Before that sprouting is called the matter beyond. Therefore Kumu Facheng, the true child of Fuyō, ascended the hall and said: Only when you know there is the matter beyond buddhas and ancestors do you have some share in speech. Venerable practitioners, now say: what is the matter beyond buddhas and ancestors? There is a certain family's child whose six faculties are incomplete and whose seven consciousnesses are not whole. He is a great icchantika without buddha-seed or buddha-nature. Meeting a buddha, he kills the buddha; meeting an ancestor, he kills the ancestor. Heaven cannot take him in, and hell has no gate through which to contain him. Assembly, do you recognize this person? After a long while he said: Face to face, no Saindhava; Sleeping too much, abundant sleep-talk.⁸ Truly, in the matter beyond, if a buddha comes, the buddha immediately loses body and life. If an ancestor arrives, the ancestor's whole body is smashed into hundreds of fragments. If one tries to reach heaven, heaven immediately collapses. If one faces hell, hell suddenly bursts apart. Which place could be heaven, and which place hell? What could be called the myriad images? From the beginning there has been no track or trace. It is simply like the affair of sleep: even self is not known—how could other be distinguished? Without any point of origin, it is only brilliantly clear, with no Dharma to awaken to.⁹ This is precisely the speech of the founding ancestor. If you know the matter beyond, the eye at the crown of the head opens, and at this time there is a place where you accord in some measure. Now say: what is this principle like?