Hō Koji's “Good Snow”

Engo's commentary on the case

Hō Koji studied with both Baso and Sekitō and composed verses about the encounters. When he first met Sekitō, he asked, “Who is the one who companions none of the myriad dharmas?” Before the sound ended, Sekitō covered his mouth. Pang had an awakening and composed: In daily activity there is nothing different; I alone naturally harmonize with it. In every matter, neither grasping nor rejecting; nowhere arranging or going against. Who assigns the ranks of vermilion and purple? The green mountain has no speck of dust. Spiritual powers and wondrous function: hauling water and carrying firewood.¹ Later he studied with Baso and again asked, “Who is the one who companions none of the myriad dharmas?” Baso said, “When you drink all the water of the West River in one swallow, I will tell you.” The layman suddenly awakened and composed: The ten directions gather in one assembly; each person studies nonaction. This is the examination ground for choosing buddhas: empty the mind, pass the examination, and return. Because Pang was an adept, monasteries later stood within sight of one another to receive him, and wherever he went people competed to honor him. After staying with Yakusan for a long time, he took his leave. Yakusan valued him greatly and ordered ten Zen travelers to escort him. Snow was falling. The layman pointed and said, “Good snow—flake after flake falls nowhere else.” Quan asked, “Where does it fall?” and Pang immediately slapped him. Quan could not enact the command, so the layman enacted half of it. Yet Quan's answer does not mean that he did not know where the saying landed. Each had a responsive edge; their ways of rolling up and extending differed. Still, Quan did not reach the layman's place. He fell beneath Pang's rack and could not escape the full draw of his bow.² After striking him, the layman additionally explained the principle: “Your eyes see as though blind; your mouth speaks as though mute.” Setchō supplies an alternative to Quan's first words: “At the first question, simply grab a snowball and strike.” In this way Setchō does not fail the question, but his mechanism is late. Precentor Qing said, “The layman's mechanism flashes like lightning. By the time you grab a snowball, how late will it be? Answer with the sound and strike with the sound; only then is it completely cut off.” Setchō himself versifies the place of the blow as follows.³ “Snowball—strike! Snowball—strike! Old Pang's mechanism has no handle to seize.” Setchō wants to walk above the layman's head. The ancients used snow to clarify the matter on the side of one color. Setchō means that if Quan had grabbed a snowball and struck, whatever mechanism the layman possessed would have been difficult to reach. Setchō boasts of his own striking, unaware that it has a place where the joint gives way. “In heaven and among humans, no one knows for oneself. Within eye and ear, utterly unbound.” Within the eye there is snow; within the ear there is snow. This is precisely dwelling on the side of one color. It is also called Samantabhadra's realm, the matter on the side of one color, or being beaten into one piece. Unmon said, “Even if the whole of heaven, earth, and the great world is without the slightest fault, this is still only a turning phrase. Not seeing a single color is only half raising it. If you want full raising, you must know there is a road beyond.” Here great function must appear before you. A needle cannot pierce it, and it does not submit to anyone else's disposal. Thus it is said, “Study a living phrase, not a dead phrase.” An ancient said, “One phrase that fits the occasion can tether a donkey for ten thousand kalpas.” What use is that? At this point Setchō has versified himself to death. He turns the mechanism again and says, “Unbound—utterly! Even the blue-eyed foreign monk could hardly distinguish it.” If even the blue-eyed foreign monk can hardly distinguish it, what more would you have this mountain monk say?⁴