Nansen's Unspoken Dharma

Engo's commentary on the case

Here there is no need for “mind” or “not mind,” “not mind” or “not not-mind.” Directly from head to foot, with not even one eyebrow remaining, you are somewhat close. “Mind” and “not mind” are what Master Yongming Yanshou called affirmative and privative exposition.¹ This Hyakujō Nehan was Master Fazheng, formerly the western-hall officer at Hyakujō and the one associated with opening fields and explaining the great meaning. Nansen had already seen Baso and was traveling to settle his discernment. Hyakujō's question was difficult to answer. This mountain monk would cover his ears and leave, exposing the old fellow's embarrassment. An expert would see through him as soon as he asked. Nansen answered from what he saw: “They did”—already foolish. Hyakujō followed error with error: “What is the Dharma not spoken?” Nansen said, “Not mind, not Buddha, not a thing.” Gazing greedily at the moon in the sky, he lost the pearl in his palm. “You have spoken it.” What a pity to annotate and break it open. At that moment Hyakujō should simply have struck him across the back and taught him pain. Still, where exactly was the speaking? From Nansen's view, “not mind, not Buddha, not a thing” did not speak it. Why, then, did Hyakujō say it had? His words leave no track. Yet if he did not speak, why did Hyakujō answer so? Nansen could turn and pressed back: “I am only like this. What about you?” Another person could not have sorted it out. Hyakujō replied extraordinarily: “I am not a great teacher. How could I know whether it was spoken?” Nansen said, “I do not understand.” Did he understand and say he did not, or truly not understand? Hyakujō said, “I have told you far too much.” Where was the telling? Read as mud-ball players and both wallow in confusion. Read as experts and they are like a bright mirror on its stand. In truth, at the beginning both are experts; at the end both let the matter pass. A person with the eye must test them distinctly. Setchō's verse does so. Old Śākyamuni appeared in the world for forty-nine years and never spoke one word. From the Radiant Land at the beginning to the Bhadra River at the end, between those two he never spoke a word.² Was that speaking or not? The dragon palaces and ocean treasury are now full of scriptures—how is this not speaking? Master Xiushan said, “The buddhas do not appear in the world, yet speak for forty-nine years. Bodhidharma did not come from the west, yet Shōrin has a marvelous secret.” He also said, “The buddhas never appeared and gave no Dharma to people. They only observed beings' minds and, responding to the working and illness, supplied medicines and prescriptions. Thus arose the three vehicles and twelve divisions of teaching.” In fact, buddhas and patriarchs have never spoken for people. This “not for people” is precisely worth investigating. This mountain monk often says: add a sweet sentence, lovely to contemplate, and it is poison. Strike across the back, slap the mouth, and push the person out—only then is it intimate service. This is the source's severe encounter rhetoric, not a general prescription. Monks past and present race everywhere, asking “is” and “is not,” Buddha and patriarch, above and below. Until they reach this ground, such inquiry remains necessary. “On a bright mirror's stand the ranged images differ.” One sentence distinguishes it clearly. An ancient said, “The myriad images and dense array are stamped by one Dharma”; also, “The dense array and myriad images are all complete within this.” Shenxiu wrote: The body is the bodhi tree; the mind resembles a bright mirror stand. Polish it diligently at all times; do not let dust collect. Master Daman Hongren said, “He is only outside the gate.”³ Where is Setchō—inside or outside? Each of you has an ancient mirror in which the dense array, long and short, square and round, appears distinctly. Try to understand through those differences and you cannot grasp it. Thus Setchō says, “On a bright mirror's stand the ranged images differ,” but each must face south and look at the Northern Dipper. If facing south, why look north? Understand and you see where Hyakujō and Nansen met. These lines versify Hyakujō's pressure: “I am not a great teacher. How could I know whether it was spoken?” Setchō feared his verse had fallen into dead water, so he raised it again: “Right now, before your eyes, the Dipper's handle hangs down.”⁴ Where else will you seek? The moment you pick up the nostrils, you lose the mouth; pick up the mouth and lose the nostrils.