Tōsu's “No Traveling by Night”

Engo's commentary on the case

Jōshū asks Tōsu, “When a person of great death comes alive again, what then?” Tōsu answers, “Traveling by night is not permitted. You must arrive at daybreak.” Tell me: what occasion is this? A flute without holes collides with a felt clapper-board. This is called a question that tests the host; it is also called a question that tests mental conduct. Everywhere Tōsu and Jōshū are praised for a discernment that rises above the crowd. Although the two elders inherited different lineages, see how their responsive edges meet in one boat. One day Tōsu laid out a tea gathering for Jōshū. Tōsu himself passed Jōshū a steamed cake, but Jōshū ignored him. Tōsu ordered an attendant to pass Jōshū a foreign-style cake, and Jōshū bowed three times to the attendant. Tell me: what did he mean? They both raise this matter of one's original share from the root in order to help people. A monk asked Tōsu, “What is the Way?” He answered, “The Way.” “What is Buddha?” “Buddha.” Another asked, “What about before the golden lock is opened?” “Open.” “What about before the golden rooster crows?” “There is no such sound.” “After it crows?” “Each knows the time for itself.” Tōsu's lifelong questions and answers were all like this. See Jōshū ask, “When a person of great death comes alive again, what then?” Tōsu immediately says, “Traveling by night is not permitted. You must arrive at daybreak”—directly like fire struck from stone or a flash of lightning. Only a person of the matter beyond can return this answer. A person of great death has no Buddha Dharma, rational principle, arcane subtlety, gain or loss, right or wrong, long or short. Arriving here, simply stop. An ancient called this, “Countless people die on level ground; the one who passes through the thorn forest is a skillful hand.” Yet one must still penetrate the other side. Even so, it is already rare for people today to reach such ground. But if there is any reliance or interpretive understanding, it has no connection. Master Zhe called that “seeing not yet purified.” My late teacher Wuzu called it “the root of life not severed.” One must die the great death once and then revive. Master Yongguang of Zhejiang said: If the edge of words is off, the homeland lies ten thousand miles away. You must let go with both hands from the cliff and personally accept responsibility. Revive again after extinction— I cannot deceive you. An extraordinary intent: where could a person conceal it?¹ Such is the intent of Jōshū's question. Tōsu is an adept and does not fail what Jōshū asks. His answer simply cuts off feeling and trace. It is undeniably difficult to understand and exposes only a little directly before the eyes. Therefore an ancient said, “If you wish to attain intimacy, do not take a question and ask it. The question is in the answer; the answer is in the question.” Had it not been Tōsu, Jōshū's question would have been extremely difficult to answer. Because Tōsu is an adept, as soon as it is raised he knows where it lands. The verse follows.² “With an eye within life, one is still like the dead.” Setchō is a person who knows there is this, so he dares to versify it. An ancient said, “Study a living phrase, not a dead phrase.” Setchō says that one with an eye within life still resembles a dead fellow. When was such a person ever dead? Having an eye within death, one is like a living person. An ancient said, “Only after killing all the dead does one see the living. Only after bringing all the dead to life does one see the dead.” Jōshū is a living person. He therefore constructs a dead question to test Tōsu, as one takes a substance contraindicated by a medicine and uses it for an assay. Thus Setchō says, “Why use a medicinal taboo to test an adept?” This versifies the place of Jōshū's question. The following lines versify Tōsu: “Even ancient buddhas, it is said, have not yet arrived.” At the very place where a person of great death comes alive again, ancient buddhas have never arrived, and neither have all the old masters in the world. Even old Śākyamuni and the blue-eyed foreign monk must study once more. Therefore it is said, “We permit the old foreigner to know, but do not permit him to comprehend.” Setchō says, “I do not know who can scatter dust and sand.” Have you not seen a monk ask Changqing, “What is the eye of a good teacher?” Changqing said, “Vowing not to scatter sand.” Hofuku said, “One must not scatter any more.” All the old masters in the world sit upon curved wooden seats, wielding staffs and shouts, raising whisks and striking the seat, displaying spiritual powers and acting as sovereigns. All of this is scattering sand. Tell me: how can it be avoided?³