The next form in which Zen expresses itself is the denial of opposites,
somehow corresponding to the mystic “via negativa.” The point is not to
be “caught” as the masters would say in any of the four propositions
(_catushkotika_): 1. “It is A”; 2. “It is not A”; 3. “It is both A and
not-A”; and 4. “It is neither A nor not-A.” When we make a negation or
an assertion, we are sure to get into one of these logical formulas
according to the Indian method of reasoning. As long as the intellect
is to move along the ordinary dualistic groove, this is unavoidable. It
is in the nature of our logic that any statement we can make is to be
so expressed. But Zen thinks that the truth can be reached when it is
neither asserted nor negated. This is indeed the dilemma of life, but
the Zen masters are ever insistent on escaping the dilemma. Let us see
if they escape free.
According to Ummon,[6.12] “In Zen there is absolute freedom; sometimes
it negates and at other times it affirms; it does either way at
pleasure.” A monk asked, “How does it negate?” “With the passing
of winter there cometh spring.” “What happens when spring cometh?”
“Carrying a staff across the shoulders, let one ramble about in the
fields, east or west, north or south, and beat the old stumps to one’s
heart’s content.” This was one way to be free as shown by one of the
greatest masters in China. Another way follows.
The masters generally go about with a kind of short stick known as
shippé (_chu-pi_), or at least they did so in old China. It does not
matter whether it is a shippé or not, anything in fact will answer our
purpose. Shuzan, a noted Zen master of the tenth century, held out
his stick and said to a group of his disciples:[6.13] “Call it not a
shippé; if you do, you assert. Nor do you deny its being a shippé;
if you do, you negate. Apart from affirmation and negation, speak,
speak!” The idea is to get our heads free from dualistic tangles and
philosophic subtleties. A monk came out of the rank, took the shippé
away from the master’s hand, and threw it down on the floor. Is this
the answer? Is this the way to respond to the master’s request “to
speak”? Is this the way to transcend the four propositions—the logical
conditions of thinking? In short, is this the way to be free? Nothing
is stereotyped in Zen, and somebody else may solve the difficulty in
quite a different manner. This is where Zen is original and creative.
Ummon expressed the same idea with his staff, which he held up,
saying,[6.14] “What is this? If you say it is a staff, you go right
to hell; but if it is not a staff, what is it?” Hima’s (Pi-mo) way
somewhat deviated from this. He used to carry a forked stick and
whenever a monk came up to him and made a bow, he applied the stick on
the neck of the monk, and said,[6.15] “What devil taught you to be a
homeless monk? What devil taught you to go round? Whether you can say
something, or whether you cannot say anything, all the same you are
to die under my fork: speak, speak, be quick!” Tokusan (Tê-shan) was
another master who flourished a stick to the same effect; for he used
to say[6.16]: “No matter what you say, or what you say not, just the
same thirty blows for you?”
When the ownership of a kitten was disputed between two parties
of monks, the Master Nansen (Nan-ch‘üan P‘u-yüan, 749–835) came out,
took hold of the animal, and said to them,[6.17] “If you can say a
word, this will be saved: if not, it will be slain.” By “a word” of
course he meant one that transcended both affirmation and negation, as
when Jōshu was asked for “One word of the ultimate truth.” No one made
a response, whereupon the master slew the poor creature. Nansen looks
like a hard-hearted Buddhist, but his point is: To say it is, involves
us in a dilemma; to say it is not, puts us in the same predicament. To
attain to the truth, this dualism must be avoided. How do you avoid it?
It may not only be the loss of the life of a kitten, but the loss of
your own life and soul, if you fail to ride over this _impasse_. Hence
Nansen’s drastic procedure. Later, in the evening Jōshu who was one of
his disciples came back, when the master told him of the incident of
the day. Jōshu at once took off one of his straw sandals and putting
it over his head began to depart. Upon this, said the master, “What a
pity you were not to-day with us, for you could have saved the kitten.”
This strange behaviour, however, was Jōshu’s way of affirming the truth
transcending the dualism of “to be” (_sat_) and “not to be” (_asat_).
While Kyōzan (Yang-shan, 804–890) was residing at Tōhei (Tung-ping)
of Shao-chou, his master Isan (Wei-shan, 771–853),—both of whom were
noted Zen masters of the T‘ang dynasty—sent him a mirror accompanied
with a letter.[6.18] Kyōzan held forth the mirror before a congregation
of monks and said, “O monks, Isan has sent here a mirror. Is this
Isan’s mirror or mine own? If you say it is Isan’s, how is it that the
mirror is in my hands? If you say it is mine own, has it not come from
Isan? If you make a proper statement, it will be retained here. If you
cannot, it will be smashed in pieces.” He said this for three times but
nobody even made an attempt to answer. The mirror was then smashed.
This was somewhat like the case of Nansen’s kitten. In both cases the
monks failed to save the innocent victim or the precious treasure,
simply because their minds were not yet free from intellectualism and
were unable to break through the entanglements purposely set up
by Nansen in one case and by Kyōzan in the other. The Zen method of
training its followers thus appears so altogether out of reason and
unnecessarily inhuman. But the master’s eyes are always upon the truth
absolute and yet attainable in this world of particulars. If this can
be gained, what does it matter whether a thing known as precious be
broken and an animal be sacrificed? Is not the recovering of the soul
more important than the loss of a kingdom?
Kyōgen (Hsiang-yen),[6.19] a disciple of Isan (Wei-shan), with whom we
got acquainted just now, said in one of his sermons: “It is like a man
over a precipice one thousand feet high, he is hanging himself there
with a branch of a tree between his teeth, the feet are far off the
ground, and his hands are not taking hold of anything. Suppose another
man coming to him to propose a question, ‘What is the meaning of the
first patriarch coming over here from the west?’ If this man should
open the mouth to answer, he is sure to fall and lose his life; but if
he would make no answer, he must be said to ignore the inquirer. At
this critical moment what should he do?” This is putting the negation
of opposites in a most graphically illustrative manner. The man over
the precipice is caught in a dilemma of life and death, and there can
be no logical quibblings. The cat may be sacrificed at the altar of
Zen, the mirror may be smashed on the ground, but how about one’s own
life? The Buddha in one of his former lives is said to have thrown
himself down into the maw of a man-devouring monster, in order to get
the whole stanza of the truth. Zen being practical wants us to make the
same noble determination to give up our dualistic life for the sake of
enlightenment and eternal peace. For it says that its gate will open
when this determination is reached.
The logical dualism of “to be” (_asti_) and “not to be” (_nasti_)
is frequently expressed by Zen masters by such terms of contrast as
are used in our daily parlance: “taking life” and “giving life,”
“capturing” and “releasing,” “giving” and “taking away,” “coming in
contact” and “turning away from,”[6.20] etc. Ummon once held up his
staff and declared: “The whole world, heaven and earth, altogether
owes its life and death to this staff.” A monk came out and asked,
“How is it killed?” “Writhing in agony!” “How is it restored to
life?” “You had better be a chéf.” “When it is neither put to death
nor living, what would you say?” Ummon rose from his seat and said,
“Mo-hê-pan-jê-po-lo-mi-ta!” (_Mahā-prajñā-pāramitā_).[6.21] This was
Ummon’s synthesis—“the one word” of the ultimate truth, in which
thesis and antithesis are concretely unified, and to which the four
propositions are inapplicable (_rahita_).