Fuketsu's Iron Ox Seal

Engo's commentary on the case

Fuketsu was a venerable adept in Rinzai's line. When Rinzai was planting pines in Ōbaku's community, Ōbaku asked, “Why plant so many pines deep in the mountains?” Rinzai said, “First, to make scenery for the monastery; second, to provide a marker for later people.” Then he struck the ground once with his mattock. Ōbaku said, “Even so, you have already eaten twenty blows from me.” Rinzai struck the ground again and breathed, “Hss! Hss!” Ōbaku said, “With you, my lineage will greatly flourish in the world.” Isan Zhe commented that Rinzai looked like someone falling on level ground; nevertheless, only one who does not change in danger deserves to be called a true person. Ōbaku's prediction, he said, also resembled doting on a child and failing to notice its ugliness. Later Isan asked Kyōzan whether Ōbaku had entrusted his teaching only to Rinzai or whether others remained. Kyōzan said there was another, but the time was far off and he did not wish to name him. Pressed to speak, Kyōzan said, “One person will point south; the command will operate through Wu and Yue. On meeting a great wind, it will stop.” This was a prophecy of Fuketsu—“Wind Cave.”² Fuketsu first studied with Seppō for five years. He asked about the episode in which the two head monks shouted together when Rinzai entered the hall and Rinzai said, “Guest and host are perfectly distinct.” Seppō said that he had set out with Gantō and Kinzan to meet Rinzai but learned on the road that Rinzai had died: to understand Rinzai's guest–host saying, Fuketsu would have to study with a venerable in that lineage. Fuketsu later saw Zuigan repeatedly call, “Host!” answer himself, and warn, “Stay awake! Later do not be deceived by people.” Fuketsu said, “Picking it up and playing with it yourself—what is difficult about that?” During a summer at Lumen with attendant Kuo, Kuo directed him to Nanyuan. Fuketsu said, “On entering the gate one must distinguish the host; please, Master, distinguish him clearly.” When he eventually met Nanyuan and recounted his journey, Nanyuan said, “Seppō is an ancient buddha.” On another occasion Fuketsu visited Kyōsei. Their first exchange was a sustained contest of images. Fuketsu said he had come from the east. Asked whether he had crossed the Little River, he answered, “A great ship floats alone through emptiness; the Little River offers no crossing.” Kyōsei countered that across mirror-water and patterned mountains even a bird could not pass, warning him not to steal-hear last words. Fuketsu answered that even the blue ocean feared the force of Menglun, while ranks of immortals spread sails across the five lakes.³ Kyōsei raised his whisk and asked, “What about this?” Fuketsu asked, “What is this?” “Sure enough, you do not recognize it.” “Emerging and vanishing, rolling up and extending—I share its use with you.” “Divining with a ladle, you listen to empty sound. Deep asleep, you indulge delirious talk.” “A broad marsh can conceal a mountain; principle can subdue a leopard.” Kyōsei said, “I pardon the offense. Leave at once.” Fuketsu replied, “To leave would be loss,” yet went out. Reaching the Dharma hall, he reflected, “A great person's public case is unfinished. How could I simply stop?” He returned to Kyōsei's quarters, apologized for his foolish view, and thanked Kyōsei for not yet assigning blame. Their renewed exchange turned from geography to poetry and swords. Kyōsei accused him of coming to recite poems after ceasing a mad search for a lost sheep. Fuketsu replied, “Meeting a swordsman, one must present a sword; unless one meets a poet, one must not offer a poem.” Kyōsei told him to conceal the poem and lend the sword's edge. Fuketsu answered with a line whose gaiji and allusion remain uncertain: “A severed head at the steamer; the man carrying the sword departs.”⁴ Kyōsei said this both violated established custom and displayed foolishness. Fuketsu replied that without violating custom, the mind of an ancient buddha could not be clarified. Asked what that mind was, he sought renewed allowance; Kyōsei called him an easterner unable to distinguish beans from wheat. Their exchange culminated: Kyōsei: “Great waves surge a thousand fathoms; clear waves never leave water.” Fuketsu: “One phrase cuts off the current; ten thousand workings sleep and fall away.” Fuketsu bowed. Kyōsei dotted the air three times with his whisk and said, “Excellent! Sit and drink tea.” When Fuketsu first entered Nanyuan's room, he did not bow. Nanyuan said, “On entering the gate, one must distinguish the host.” Fuketsu said, “Please distinguish him clearly.” Nanyuan slapped his left knee; Fuketsu shouted. Nanyuan slapped his right knee; Fuketsu shouted again. Nanyuan raised his left hand and said, “This one follows you,” then raised the right: “What about this one?” Fuketsu said, “Blind!” Nanyuan picked up his staff. Fuketsu warned that he would seize it and strike the master. Nanyuan threw the staff down and said he had been oppressed by this yellow-faced fellow from Zhejiang. Fuketsu answered, “You are like someone unable to hold an alms bowl who falsely claims not to be hungry.” Their exchange ended with tea. The next day Nanyuan casually asked where Fuketsu had spent the summer. Hearing that he had stayed at Lumen with Kuo, Nanyuan said, “So you personally met an adept. What did he tell you?” Fuketsu replied, “From beginning to end he only taught me always to act as host.” Nanyuan struck him, pushed him from the room, and said, “What use is a fellow who keeps taking in failures like this?” From then on Fuketsu submitted fully and served as gardener in Nanyuan's community. One day Nanyuan came to the garden and asked, “How is one blow discussed in the south?” Fuketsu said, “It is discussed as extraordinary. How is it discussed here?” Nanyuan raised his staff and said, “Beneath the staff is patience regarding the unborn; at the occasion, do not yield even to the teacher.” At this Fuketsu suddenly awakened. During the turmoil of the Five Dynasties, the governor of Yingzhou invited Fuketsu to pass the summer in the government compound. The Rinzai lineage was then flourishing. Fuketsu's questions, answers, and public teachings used pointed, novel phrases, clustered like flowers and brocade, every word landing somewhere. When the governor invited him to teach, Fuketsu presented the ancestral mind seal as the mechanism of an iron ox. It cannot be shaken. The instant you go, it stamps you still; the instant you stay, it stamps you apart, shattering you into a hundred fragments. But if you neither go nor stay, should it stamp or not? This is bait on the hook. Elder Lupi, himself a venerable in Rinzai's line, dared to meet the occasion. Turning Fuketsu's phrase, he claimed the iron ox mechanism and asked not to be sealed. Fuketsu, an adept, answered, “Accustomed to fishing whales and leviathans, clearing the mighty deep, I instead lament a frog stepping and grinding through mud and sand.” The words have resonance within them. Unmon said, “Dropping a hook through the four seas, one fishes only for a fierce dragon. The dark mechanism beyond convention seeks a person who knows.” Fuketsu uses the vast deep and a twelve-headed water buffalo as hook and bait, yet catches only a frog. There is no arcane doctrine here and no rational calculation. An ancient said, “Looking from the event is easy; calculating beneath the root of thought has no connection.” Lupi paused. “Seeing it but failing to take it, one will not meet it again in a thousand years.” What a pity. Even if one can lecture on a thousand scriptures and treatises, it is difficult to open the mouth at the occasion. Lupi wanted an elegant phrase rather than to enact the command. Fuketsu pressed him with a responsive edge that seized the banner and stole the drum. As the proverb says, “A defeated army cannot withstand being swept with a broom.” If Lupi waits to find a spear technique, his head will already have fallen. The governor had studied with Fuketsu for a long time and could say, “The Buddha Dharma and the sovereign's law are alike.” When Fuketsu asked what he saw, the governor answered, “When one should decide but does not decide, one instead invites disorder.” Fuketsu was a whole mass of vitality, like a gourd on water: press it and it turns, push it and it moves. He could teach according to the occasion; failing to accord with the occasion would turn speech into falsehood. Fuketsu therefore left the seat. Rinzai taught four guest–host relations. When guest and host meet, their words disclose their movement. Sometimes the whole body responds to things and manifests form; sometimes it wields the mechanism through joy and anger; sometimes it reveals half the body; sometimes it rides the lion or the elephant king. First, a genuine student shouts, presenting a glue-pot. If the teacher cannot distinguish that it is a presented situation and begins posing within it, the student shouts again. If the teacher still refuses to release it, this terminal illness cannot be cured. This is called “guest sees host.” Second, a teacher presents no object but takes away whatever the student asks about. The student, though dispossessed, clings to the death. This is “host sees guest.” Third, a student presents a pure situation. The teacher recognizes it and throws the student into a pit. The student says, “What an excellent teacher!” The teacher replies, “Bah! You do not know good from bad.” The student bows. This is “host sees host.” Fourth, a student appears before the teacher wearing cangue and chains. The teacher adds another layer; the student rejoices. Neither distinguishes the other. This is “guest sees guest.” These examples distinguish demonic and deviant activity and clarify orthodox from false. A monk asked Ciming, “When one shout distinguishes guest from host and illumination and function operate at once, what then?” Ciming immediately shouted. Master Hongjue of Yunju taught that a lion uses its whole strength to seize an elephant and its whole strength to seize a rabbit. Asked what strength that was, he said, “The strength of not deceiving.” See how Setchō brings it forth in verse. Setchō knows that Fuketsu had this lineage style, so he says, “Capturing Lupi, he straddles the iron ox. The spears and armor of the Three Mysteries are not lightly answered.” Rinzai's lineage has Three Mysteries and Three Essentials. Every phrase must contain three mysteries, and every mystery must contain three essentials. A monk asked Rinzai, “What is the first phrase?” Rinzai said: The seal of the Three Essentials opens; the vermilion mark is narrow. Before deliberation is admitted, host and guest divide. “What is the second phrase?” How could subtle discernment permit Wuzhu's question? Skillful means does not fail the mechanism that cuts off the current. “What is the third phrase?” Just watch the puppets performing upon the stage: their pulling and drawing depend entirely on the person within.⁵ Fuketsu's single phrase contains the spears and armor of the Three Mysteries, with all seven accoutrements ready; he does not answer Lupi lightly. Without this, how could he handle Lupi? In the verse's latter half Setchō wants to reveal the responsive edge of Rinzai's lineage. Set Lupi aside: even beside the city of the King of Chu, where immense waves and white breakers rise to heaven and all waters go to pay court, a single shout is enough to make them flow backward.⁶