II

The coming of Bodhi-Dharma (Bodai-daruma in Japanese, P‘u-ti Ta-mo in

Chinese) to China early in the sixth century was simply to introduce

this satori element into the body of Buddhism whose advocates were

then so engrossed in subtleties of philosophical discussion or in the

mere literary observance of rituals and disciplinary rules. By the

“absolute transmission of the spiritual seal”[5.6] which was claimed by

the first patriarch, is meant the opening of satori, obtaining an eye

to see into the spirit of the Buddhist teaching. The sixth patriarch,

Yeno (Hui-nêng), was distinguished because of his upholding the satori

aspect of dhyana against the mere mental tranquillisation of the

Northern School of Zen under the leadership of Jinshu (Shên-hsiu). Baso

(Ma-tsu), Obaku (Huan-po), Rinzai (Lin-chi), and all the other stars

illuminating the early days of Zen in the T‘ang dynasty were advocates

of satori. Their life-activities were unceasingly directed towards the

advancement of this; and as one can readily recognise, they so differed

from those merely absorbed in contemplation or the practising of dhyana

so called. They were strongly against quietism, declaring its adherents

to be purblind and living in the cave of darkness. Before we go on,

it is advisable, therefore, to have this point clearly understood so

that we leave no doubt as to the ultimate purport of Zen, which is by

no means wasting one’s life away in a trance-inducing practise, but

consists in seeing into the life of one’s being or opening an eye of

satori.

There is in Japan a book going under the title of _Six Essays by

Shoshitsu_ (that is, by Bodhi-Dharma, the first patriarch of Zen); the

book contains no doubt some of the sayings of Dharma, but most of the

essays are not his; they were probably composed during the T‘ang

dynasty when Zen Buddhism began to make its influence more generally

felt among the Chinese Buddhists. The spirit however pervading the

book is in perfect accord with the principle of Zen. One of the essays

entitled “Kechimyakuron,” or “Treatise on the Lineage of Faith,”[5.7]

discusses the question of _Chien-hsing_[f104] 見性 or satori, which,

according to the author constitutes the essence of Zen Buddhism. The

following passages are extracts.

“If you wish to seek the Buddha, you ought to see into your own Nature

(_hsing_); for this Nature is the Buddha himself. If you have not

seen into your own Nature, what is the use of thinking of the Buddha,

reciting the Sutras, observing a fast, or keeping the precepts? By

thinking of the Buddha, your cause [i.e., meritorious deed] may bear

fruit; by reciting the Sutras your intelligence may grow brighter; by

keeping the precepts you may be born in the heavens; by practising

charity you may be rewarded abundantly; but as to seeking the

Buddha, you are far away from him. If your Self is not yet clearly

comprehended, you ought to see a wise teacher and get a thorough

understanding as to the root of birth-and-death. One who has not seen

into one’s own Nature, is not to be called a wise teacher.

“When this [seeing into one’s own Nature] is not attained, one cannot

escape from the transmigration of birth-and-death, however well one may

be versed in the study of the sacred scriptures in twelve divisions. No

time will ever come to one to get out of the sufferings of the triple

world. Anciently there was a Bhikshu Zensho (Shan-hsing[f105]) who

was capable of reciting all the twelve divisions of scriptures, yet he

could not save himself from transmigration, because he had no insight

into his own Nature. If this was the case even with Zensho, how about

those moderners who being able to discourse only on a few Sutras and

Śastras regard themselves as exponents of Buddhism? They are truly

simple-minded ones. When Mind is not understood, it is absolutely of no

avail to recite and discourse on idle literature. If you want to seek

the Buddha, you ought to see into your own Nature, which is the Buddha

himself. The Buddha is a free man—a man who neither works nor achieves.

If, instead of seeing into your own Nature, you turn away and seek the

Buddha in external things, you will never get at him.

“The Buddha is your own Mind, make no mistake to bow [to external

objects]. ‘Buddha’ is a Western word, and in this country it means

‘enlightened nature’; and by ‘enlightened’ is meant ‘spiritually

enlightened.’ It is one’s own spiritual Nature in enlightenment that

responds to the external world, comes in contact with objects, raises

the eyebrows, winks the eyelids, and moves the hands and legs. This

Nature is the Mind, and the Mind is the Buddha, and the Buddha is

the Way, and the Way is Zen. This simple word, Zen, is beyond the

comprehension both of the wise and the ignorant. To see directly into

one’s original Nature, this is Zen. Even if you are well learned in

hundreds of the Sutras and Śastras, you still remain an ignoramus in

Buddhism when you have not yet seen into your original Nature. Buddhism

is not there [in mere learning]. The highest truth is unfathomably

deep, is not an object of talk or discussion, and even the canonical

texts have no way to bring it within our reach. Let us once see into

our own original Nature and we have the truth even when we are quite

illiterate, not knowing a word....

“Those who have not seen into their own Nature, may read the

Sutras, think of the Buddha, study long, work hard, practise religion

throughout the six periods of the day, sit for a long time and never

lie down for sleep, and may be wide in learning and well-informed in

all things; and they may believe that all this is Buddhism. All the

Buddhas in successive ages only talk of seeing into one’s Nature. All

things are impermanent; until you get an insight into your Nature, do

not say, ‘I have perfect knowledge.’ Such is really committing a very

grave crime. Ānanda, one of the ten great disciples of the Buddha,

was known for his wide information, but did not have any insight into

Buddhahood, because he was so bent on gaining information only....”

* * * * *

The sixth patriarch, Hui-nêng (Yeno), insists on this in a most

unmistakable way when he answers the question: “As to your commission

from the fifth patriarch of Huang-mei, how do you direct and instruct

others in it?” The answer was: “No direction, no instruction there is;

we speak only of seeing into one’s Nature and not of practising dhyana

and seeking deliverance thereby.” Elsewhere they are designated as the

“confused” and “not worth consulting with,” they that are empty-minded

and sit quietly having no thoughts whatever; whereas “even ignorant

ones, if they all of a sudden realise the truth and open their mental

eyes, are after all wise men and may attain even to Buddhahood.” Again

when the patriarch was told of the method of instruction adopted by the

masters of the Northern School of Zen, which consisted in stopping all

mental activities, quietly absorbed in contemplation, and in sitting

cross-legged for the longest while at a stretch, he declared such

practises to be abnormal and not at all to the point, being far from

the truth of Zen, and added this stanza which was quoted elsewhere:

“While living one sits up and lies not,

When dead, one lies and sits not;

A set of ill-smelling skeleton!

What is the use of toiling and moiling so?”

When at Demboin, Baso used to sit cross-legged all day and

meditating. His master, Nangaku Yejo (Nan-yüeh Huai-jang, 677–744), saw

him and asked,[5.8]

“What seekest thou here thus sitting cross-legged?”

“My desire is to become a Buddha.”

Thereupon, the master took up a piece of brick and began to polish it

hard on the stone nearby.

“What workest thou on so, my master?” asked Baso.

“I am trying to turn this into a mirror.”

“No amount of polishing will make a mirror of the brick, sir.”

“If so, no amount of sitting cross-legged as thou doest will make of

thee a Buddha,” said the master

“What shall I have to do then?”

“It is like driving a cart; when it moveth not, wilt thou whip the cart

or the ox?”

Baso made no answer.

The master continued: “Wilt thou practice this sitting cross-legged in

order to attain dhyana or to attain Buddhahood? If it is dhyana, dhyana

does not consist in sitting or lying; if it is Buddhahood, the Buddha

has no fixed forms. As he has no abiding place anywhere, no one can

take hold of him, nor can he be let go. If thou seekest Buddhahood by

thus sitting cross-legged, thou murderest him. So long as thou freest

thyself not from sitting so,[f106] thou never comest to the truth.”

These are all plain statements, and no doubts are left as to the

ultimate end of Zen, which is not sinking oneself into a state of

torpidity by sitting quietly after the fashion of a Hindu saint and

trying to exclude all the mental ripplings that seem to come up

from nowhere and after a while pass away—where nobody knows. These

preliminary remarks will help the reader carefully to consider the

following “Questions and Answers”[5.9] (known as _Mondo_ in Japanese);

for they will illustrate my thesis that Zen aims at the opening

of satori, or at acquiring a new point of view as regards life and the

universe. The Zen masters, as we see below, are always found trying

to avail themselves of every apparently trivial incident of life

in order to make the disciples’ minds flow into a channel hitherto

altogether unperceived. It is like picking a hidden lock, the flood of

new experiences gushes forth from the opening. It is again like the

clock’s striking the hours; when the appointed time comes it clicks,

and the whole percussion of sounds is released. The mind seems to

have something of this mechanism; when a certain moment is reached, a

hitherto closed screen is lifted, an entirely new vista opens up, and

the tone of one’s whole life thereafter changes. This mental clicking

or opening is called satori by the Zen masters and is insisted upon as

the main object of their discipline.

In this connection the reader will find the following words of Meister

Eckhart quite illuminative: “Upon this matter a heathen sage hath a

fine saying in speech with another sage: ‘I become aware of something

in me which flashes upon my reason. I perceive of it that it is

something, but what it is I cannot perceive. Only meseems that, could I

conceive it, I should comprehend all truth.’”[f107]