Seppō's Turtle-Nose Snake

Engo's commentary on the case

If you spread everything level, freely let it spread level. If you smash it, freely let it be smashed. Seppō traveled with Gantō and Kinzan. He went three times to Touzi and nine times up Dongshan, then studied with Tokusan and finally smashed the lacquer bucket. One day Seppō and Gantō set out to visit Kinzan. Snow detained them at an inn on Aoshan. Gantō slept every day while Seppō constantly sat in meditation. Gantō shouted, “Eat your fill of sleep! Every day you sit on the bed like an earth god in some village. Later you will bewitch people's sons and daughters.” Seppō pointed to his breast. “I am not settled here. I do not dare deceive myself.” Gantō said, “I thought that later you would build a grass hut on a solitary peak and spread the great teaching. Yet you still speak this way!” “I truly am not settled.” “If that is true, present your views one by one. What is right I will verify for you; what is wrong I will cut away.” Seppō described gaining an entry when Enkan lectured on form and emptiness. Gantō said, “For the next thirty years, never mention it.” Seppō described gaining an entry through Dongshan's verse on crossing the water. Gantō said, “If it is like that, you cannot even save yourself.” Seppō then told how he had asked Tokusan, “Does this student have a share in the affair of the ancestral vehicle?” Tokusan struck him and said, “What are you saying?” At that moment, Seppō said, it was as if the bottom fell from a bucket. Gantō shouted, “Have you not heard? What enters through the gate is not the family treasure.” Seppō asked, “What should I do hereafter?” Gantō said, “If one day you wish to spread the great teaching, let every bit flow from your own breast. Cover heaven and cover earth for me.” At these words Seppō awakened, bowed, rose, and cried repeatedly, “Today Aoshan has finally attained the Way! Today Aoshan has finally attained the Way!” He later returned to Min and resided at Elephant Bone Mountain. He wrote: Human life flashes past, a moment brief; how can one dwell long in this floating world? Leaving the ranges, I had just turned thirty-two; entering Min, already I was past forty. Others' errors, when still active, must repeatedly be raised; once passed, they should be cleared away again and again. I respectfully tell the court's red- and purple-robed nobles: King Yama does not fear a golden-fish rank pendant.² Whenever Seppō instructed the assembly, each statement covered heaven and earth. He did not discuss mystery and subtlety, mind or nature. It stood suddenly exposed, like a mass of fire that burns your face if approached, like the sword Tai'e that costs body and life if you deliberate over it. Pause in thought and stop the working, and you have no connection. Hyakujō once asked Ōbaku, “Where have you been?” “Gathering mushrooms beneath Mount Daxiong.” “Did you see the tiger?” Ōbaku roared like a tiger. Hyakujō raised an ax and made as if to chop. Ōbaku slapped him. Hyakujō chuckled, returned to the hall, ascended the seat, and told the assembly, “There is a tiger on Mount Daxiong. All of you must look out for it carefully. Today the old monk was bitten himself.” Whenever Jōshū met a monk, he asked, “Have you been here before?” Whether the monk said yes or no, Jōshū said, “Go drink tea.” The director asked what this meant. Jōshū called, “Director!” The director answered. Jōshū said, “Go drink tea.” At Zihu a sign by the gate read: “Zihu has a dog. Above, it takes a person's head; in the middle, the waist; below, the legs. Deliberate and you lose body and life.” When a newcomer had barely exchanged greetings, Zihu shouted, “Watch the dog!” As soon as the monk turned his head, Zihu returned to his quarters. This is just like Seppō's snake. At that moment, how would you respond without following the tracks of those before you? Try to speak. Here you must understand the phrase beyond the pattern. When any public-case saying is raised, you immediately know where it comes down. Seppō does not explain practice or understanding. Can discriminating consciousness measure his instruction? Children of that house naturally speak exactly right. An ancient said, “When receiving words, discern the source; do not establish rules of your own.” Words must go beyond the pattern and phrases must pass the barrier. Speech that does not leave its den falls into a poisonous sea. Seppō's instruction is tasteless talk that stops people's mouths. Changqing and Gensha were people inside his house and therefore understood him. Do you know where the turtle-nose snake comes down? You need the eye that penetrates every direction. Zhenjing wrote: Beat the drum and play the pipa: two adepts meet. Unmon can sing in harmony; Changqing knows how to follow the oblique. The ancient tune has neither notes nor rhythm— South Mountain's turtle-nose snake. Who understands its intent? It is truly Gensha. What is Changqing's intent? Only like fire struck from stone or a flash of lightning can it be met. Leave even a hair unremoved and you cannot meet it. Many construct interpretations: that anyone who hears Seppō in the hall immediately loses body and life; or that there was never the slightest affair and Seppō needlessly made people doubt. Hearing of the snake, they become suspicious. Such readings have no connection; they make a livelihood in the words. Gensha said only Elder Brother Leng could respond so, but he would not. Asked what he would say, he answered, “What use is South Mountain?” His words contain a place to escape. Without Gensha, answering would be difficult. Where is the snake? Only a person directed upward understands speech like this. An ancient said, “Xie Sanlang on the fishing boat does not love South Mountain's turtle-nose snake.”³ Unmon, by contrast, thrust his staff before Seppō and acted afraid. He had a snake-handler's skill without touching the blade. He struck on the light side and the dark side. In meeting people he was like one dancing with Tai'e: sometimes the blade flew at their brows and lashes, sometimes three thousand miles away to take a head. His gesture was not mere spirit-play. Did he too lose body and life? An expert teacher never makes a livelihood in one word or phrase. Setchō loved the way Unmon accorded with and verified Seppō's intent, and therefore produced his verse. “Elephant Bone Cliff is high; people do not reach it. Those who reach it must have a snake-handler's hands.” Elephant Bone Cliff lies below Seppō Mountain. Seppō's working was lofty and steep; few reached him. Setchō was from inside his house: their plumage matched, like sounds answering and energies seeking one another. Only universally penetrating adepts can verify each other. This turtle-nose snake is difficult to handle. One must know how, or be injured by it. My late teacher Wuzu said, “With this turtle-nose snake, you need a working whose hands and feet cannot be harmed. Pinch it at the seven-inch point and hold it fast; then walk hand in hand with this old monk.”⁴ Changqing and Gensha had such skill. Setchō says, “Master Leng and Master Bei cannot handle it.” Many take this to mean they failed, so Setchō praises Unmon alone. That has no connection. Among the three, the workings have neither gain nor loss, only degrees of intimacy. Where precisely could Leng and Bei not handle it? “How many have lost body and life?” This versifies Changqing's statement. Here one must possess a snake-handler's hands and examine carefully. Setchō brings out Unmon, sets the others aside for the moment, and leaves Unmon alone: “Shaoyang knows; again he parts the grass.” Unmon knew where Seppō's statement came down and therefore parted the grass again. Then comes the subtle point: “North, south, east, west—nowhere to seek it.” Where is it? “Suddenly it emerges from the staff-tip.” It was here all along, yet you must not make a livelihood on the staff-tip. Unmon used his staff as the turtle-nose snake. At another time he said, “The staff has transformed into a dragon and swallowed heaven and earth. Where can mountains, rivers, and the great earth come from?” It is only one staff: sometimes dragon, sometimes snake. Why? Only here do you understand the ancient's words: “Mind turns following the myriad objects; where it turns, its depth is truly subtle.” The verse says the staff was hurled before Seppō, mouth gaping like lightning. Setchō has talent left over: he brings out Unmon's poisonous snake. If you deliberate, you lose body and life. Raise your eyebrows and still you do not see—where has it gone? After finishing the verse, Setchō must meet people from the living side. He takes Seppō's snake and handles it himself, killing or giving life as the moment requires. Would you see? “Now it is hidden before Milk Peak.” Milk Peak is Setchō's mountain. In another verse he says, “The stone summit looks four ways and the blue sea is narrow; in the vast solitude, not even white clouds may remain white.”⁵ Changqing, Gensha, and Unmon handled the snake and then it vanished. Setchō says it is now hidden before Milk Peak and tells each newcomer to watch how they handle it. Yet he is still involved in a fine drizzle. Without speaking he ought to have used it; instead he shouted, “Watch your feet!” How many people since antiquity have picked up and handled it? Has it ever injured anyone, or not? [Engo] struck.