Yanguan Qian [W-G: Yen-kuan Ch’i-an / J: Enkan Sai’an]

                An inquirer asked Yanguan Qian, “Who was the Buddha?”

                Yanguan replied by requesting of his visitor, “Would you please pass me that water-pitcher.”    

                The inquirer looked around, saw the pitcher, and passed it to the master.  Yanguan poured himself a cup of water and then asked the visitor to replace the pitcher.  The visitor did so, then, thinking that perhaps Yanguan had not heard his original question, put it again: “About the Buddha—who was he?”

                “Oh, yes,” Yanguan said.  “Well, you know, he’s been dead a long time now.”

[Yanguan Qian – Zen Masters of China: 19, 140,149; The Story of Zen: 19]

Caoshan Benji [W-G: Ts’ao-shan Pen-chi / J: Sozan Honjaku]

                Caoshan Benji studied with Dongshan Liangjie until his own awakening was deep enough for him to go off on his on.  As he prepared to leave the monastery, Dongshan came to see him and asked, “Where will you go?”

                “I’m not going anywhere different,” Benji told him.

                “If you’re not going to anywhere different, how can there be ‘going’?”

                “I’m going, but not to anywhere different.”

[Caoshan Benji – Zen Masters of China: 134-37; The Story of Zen: 156]

Dongshan Liangjie [W-G:Tung-shan Liang-chieh / J: Tozan Ryokai]

A monk once complained to Dongshan Liangji about the discomforts of the monastery, which was too cold in winter and too warm in the summer.  He asked the master how one could avoid these discomforts.  Dongshan told him, “Go where there is neither cold nor heat.”

                “Where’s that?”

                “When cold, let the cold kill you; when hot, let the heat kill you.” 

[Dongshan Liangjie – Zen Masters of China: 126-37; The Story of Zen: 154-56]

Jiashan Shanhui [W-G: Chia-shan Shan-hui / J: Kassan Zenne]

                Jiashan Shanhui was a student of the sutras and was a recognized “lecture master.”  He attracted large audiences to his presentations.  At one of these, a listener asked, “What is the Dharmakaya?”

                “It’s without form,” Jiashan said.

                “What then is the true eye of the Dharma which, it is claimed, Buddha passed onto Mahakasyapa?”

                “It’s without flaw.”

                Daowu Yuanjie was in the lecture hall when this exchange took place, and he laughed out loud.

                Jiashan demanded, “Why are you laughing?”

                “You might understand the sutras, but you still need a master to guide you to the discovery of your Buddha-nature.”

                “Where would I find such a man?”

                “Go see the Boatman Monk.  He hasn’t a tile to cover his head nor a speck of earth to stand upon.”

                Jiashan gave up lecturing and sought out Chunzi Decheng.  It was a long journey, and Jiashan’s traveling clothes were dusty and soiled by the time he finally came to the ferryman.  When Chunzi saw Jiashan approaching, he shouted, “Monk, at what monastery do you reside?”

                “I’m not a resident of any monastery otherwise I wouldn’t look like this.”

                “So what do you look like?” the Boatman Monk asked.

                “I’m beyond sight and sound and consciousness.”

                “Is that so?” Chunzi said, then he took hold of Jiashan and pushed him into the river, holding his head under water for a long while before letting him up.  “Speak now!” Chunzi demanded, but as soon as Jiashan opened his mouth, the ferryman plunged him into the water yet again.  “Speak!” Chunzi shouted.  Jiashan tried again and was submerged a third time.  On this occasion, he came to awakening, and when Chunzi let him up, he bowed in gratitude.

[Jiashan Shanhui – Zen Masters of China: 120-22]

Chunzi Decheng [W-G: Ch’uan-tzu Te-ch’eng / J: Sensu Tokujo]

                Chunzi Decheng, Daowu Yuanjie, and Yunyan Tansheng all received Dharma transmission from Yaoshan Weiyan. Chunzi said to the other two: “I know that both of you will eventually go your separate ways and continue our master’s Dharma.  That isn’t my path; I lack that discipline.  I enjoy nature and will follow my own way.  I’m not fit to be the teacher of a great assembly.  Still, if an appropriate student comes to you, please send him to me so that I may repay our teacher by passing on what little I’ve learned.”

                He then became a ferryman and was popularly known to the people he helped cross the river as the “Boatman monk.” 

[Chunzi Decheng – Zen Masters of China: 119-20, 121]

Jianyuan Zhongxing [W-G: Chien-yuan Chung-hsing]

                 Daowu Yuanjie and his disciple, Jianyuan Zhongxing, went to visit a family who were mourning the death of one its members.  The coffin was still at the house, and Jianyuan took the opportunity to ask his master a question.  Laying his hand on the coffin he asked, “Is he alive or dead?”

                “I won’t say alive,” Daowu told him.  “I won’t say dead.”

                “Why not?”

                “I won’t say.”

                After the visit, as they were returning to the monastery, Jianyuan was very disturbed and demanded, “Tell me, alive or dead.  If not, I’ll strike you down!”

                “Strike me or not, I still won’t tell you.”

                Jianyuan was unable to restrain himself, and he struck his master.  Daowu did not strike back, but it was such a breach of etiquette that he told his student, “If others learn what you’ve done, it may cause you trouble.  So it would better if you leave our monastery for a while.”

                Jianyuan wandered from place to place until he learned that his former master had died.  Then he returned to the monastery where Shishuang Chuyuan was now teaching.  Jianyuan explained why he had been absent from the monastery for so long and told the new master about the question to which Daowu had merely said: “I won’t say alive; I won’t say dead.”

                “Can you answer my question?” he asked Shishuang.

                “I won’t say alive; I won’t say dead,” Shishuang replied.

                “But why not?” Jianyuan asked.

                “I won’t say.”

                And with those words, Jianyuan finally came to awakening.

[Jianyuan Zhongxing – Zen Masters of China: 120-22]

Daowu Yuanjie [W-G: Tao-wu Yuan-chieh / J: Dogo Enchi]

                 Yunyan Tansheng and Daowu Yuanjie were admiring a statue of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, Guanyin.  As was common, the statue portrayed the Bodhisattva with multiple arms and eyes.

                Tangshen asked, “Why do you suppose the Bodhisattva has so many hands and eyes?”

                “It’s like someone in their sleep groping for a pillow,” Daowu replied.

                “Ah!  I understand.”

                “Tell me what you understand.”

                “The whole body is covered with hands and eyes.”

                “That isn’t bad,” Daowu said, but his tone suggested that Tansheng still did not fully understand.

                “How would you put it?”  Tansheng asked.

                “The whole body is hands and eyes.”

[Daowu Yuanjie –  Zen Masters of China: 116-19]

Yunyan Tansheng [W-G: Yun-yen T’an-sheng / J: Ungan Donsho]

                Yunyan Tansheng once told this parable:  “Three travelers noticed a man standing on a small hill looking out over the landscape.  The first traveler said, ‘Look at that man.  I suppose he’s searching the country round for an animal that has wandered from his herd.’ 

                “‘Not at all,’ the second said, ‘he’s simply watching out for a friend who’s coming to visit him.’

                “‘Nonsense,’ said the third.  ‘He’s just enjoying the refreshing breeze.’

                “The travelers argued among themselves but weren’t able to come to agreement about why the man was standing there.  When they came nearer to him, the first traveler called out to the man, ‘Are you looking for a goat or sheep which has wandered from your flock?’

                “‘I don’t have any flocks,’ the man replied.

                “‘Then are you waiting for a friend?’ the second asked.

                “‘No.  I’m not waiting for a friend.’

                “‘Ah,’ said the third.  ‘It must be as I expected that you’re just enjoying the refreshing breeze.’

                “‘Not particularly,’ the man said.

                “‘Then what are you doing?’ the three travelers demanded.

                “‘I’m just standing here.’”

[Yunyan Tansheng – Zen Masters of China : 116-18, 129; The Story of Zen: 154]

Yaoshan Weiyan [W-G: Yuen-shan Wei-yen / J: Yakusan Igen]

   

            

                One day after Yaoshan Weiyan had been seated in meditation for a long while, a monk asked him what he did during zazen: “What is it that you think of while you sit there as still as a mountain?”

                “I think of not-thinking,” Weiyen replied.

                “How can you think of not-thinking?” the bewildered monk persisted.

                “It isn’t thought.”

[Yaoshan Weiyan – Zen Masters of China: 110-16]

Cuiwei Wuxue [W-G: Ts’ui-wei Wu-hseuh / J: Suibi Mugaku]

                A monk asked Cuiwei Wuxue what the significance of Buddhism was. Cuiwei  looked about then said, softly, “Wait until no one else is around, then I’ll answer your question.”

                Sometime later, the monk saw Cuiwei in the garden by himself, so he approached him once more. “We’re alone now. So, please, tell me: what is the significance of Buddhism?”

                Without speaking, Cuiwei  indicated the nearby grove of bamboo with a wave of his hand. “Look!” Cuiwei  said. “There’s a tall bamboo, and here’s a short one!”

[Cuiwei Wuxue – Zen Masters of China: 105-07]

Tanxia Tianran [W-G: Tan-hsia T’ien-jan / J: Tanka Tennen]

                  One winter’s night, Tanxia Tianran took shelter at an empty temple in the capital.  The weather was very bitter, and Tianran struggled to keep warm.  Eventually he took down one of the three wooden Buddhas he found on an altar and broke it into pieces which he used to make a fire.  Noticing smoke coming from the temple, the resident priest came in to see what was causing it and found Tianran contentedly warming his hands before the burning Buddha. 
                “What have you done!” the priest exclaimed in outrage. “This is sacrilege!  Have you no respect for the Holy Buddha?”  
                Without answering the priest, Tianran began to poke about in the embers with a stick. 
                “And now what are you doing?” the priest demanded. 
                “I’m searching the ashes for the relics, the Buddha’s bones.” 
                “You’re a madman!” the priest exclaimed.  “What bones or relics would you find from a wooden Buddha!”

                “In that case,” Tianran said, “could I have another of those Buddhas there for my fire?”

[Tanxia Tianran – Zen Masters of China: 103-05]

Lungtan Chongzin [W-G: Lung-t’an Ch’ung-hsin / J: Ryutan Soshin]

                 At the first meeting between Lungtan Chongzin and his future heir, Deshan Xuanjian, Deshan immediately took the offensive: “I’ve heard people speak about the famous dragon pool [lungtan], but I see neither dragon nor pool.”

                Chongzen replied, “You are in the midst of Lungtan.”

[Lungtan Chongzin – Zen Masters of China: 230-31]

Tianhuang Daowu [W-G: T’ien-huang Tao-wu / J: Tenno Dogo]

    

            Tianhuang Daowu was the Dharma heir of Shitou Xiqian. When he became a teacher, his personal attendant was Lungtan Chongzin. After Lungtan had been in that position for several years, he approached his master and complained, “Since I came here, I haven’t had any instruction in the study of mind.” 

                “That isn’t so,” Tienhuang said. “Since the day you first arrived, I haven’t missed an opportunity to show you how to study mind.” 

                “In what way, sir?”

                “When you brought me a cup of tea, didn’t I drink it? When you bowed to me, didn’t I  return the bow? When did I ever neglect instructing you?” 

                Lungtan sat for a moment with his head down. “If you want to see it,” Tianhuang snapped, “see it directly! When you just think about it, it’s altogether lost!”

                Lungtan came to awakening and asked, in marvel, “How does one maintain it?”

                “Live in accordance with conditions as they arise moment to moment,” Tianhuang instructed him. “Surrender to everyday mind. There’s nothing sacred except this.”

[Tianhuang Daowu – Zen Master’s of China: 102]

Pangyun or “Layman Pang” [W-G: P’ang Yun / J: Hokoji]

                Pangyun was first a student of Mazu and then later of Shitou. He never became a monk, was married, and had a daughter. He became known as Layman Pang.

                One day Shitou came upon him as he was at work on the temple grounds. The master asked him how he had been filling his time. Pang replied in verse: "Nothing to choose, nothing to discard. / I exercise occult and subtle power. / How miraculous! How wondrous! / Hauling water and carrying wood!"

[Pangyun – Zen Masters of China: 90, 100-02]

Shitou Xiqian [W-G: Shih-t’ou Hsi-chien / J: Sekito Kisen]

    
      Shitou Xiqian was the heir of Qingyuan Xingshi. One day an inquirer asked him, “What am I supposed to do?”

                “Why are you asking me?” Shitou replied.

                “Where else can I find what I’m looking for?”

                “Are you sure you lost it?”

[Shitou Xiqian – Zen Masters of China: 94-99; The Story of Zen: 153-54]

Mazu Daoyi [W-G: Ma-tsu-Tao / J: Baso Doitsu]

                As Mazu Daoyi and Baizhang Huaihai were walking together, a flock of geese flew overhead.

                “What are they?” asked Mazu.

                “Wild geese,” Baizhang told him.

                “Where are they going?”

                “They’ve already flown away.”

                Mazu grabbed Baizhang’s nose and twisted it sharply.

                “How could they ever have flown away?” he demanded.

                At that moment, Baizhang’s mind was opened.

[Mazu Daoyi – Zen Masters of China: 84-91, 103, 146, 148, 169, 170; The Story of Zen: 145-47]

Nanyue Huairang [W-G: Nan-yueh Huai-jang / J: Nangaku Ejo]

               Nanyue Huairang had been a student of Huineng and, in turn, became the teacher of Mazu Daoyi. One day he came upon Mazu seated in meditation. Huairang asked him, “What is it that you’re trying to accomplish by sitting like this?”

                Mazu replied, “I want to attain Buddhahood.” 

                Huairang nodded his head, then, without a word, picked up a piece of broken tile which was lying on the ground and began to rub it vigorously.  He kept this up so long that Mazu eventually inquired, “Master, if I may ask, what are you doing?”

                “I’m polishing this tile to make it into a mirror.”

                “But no amount of polishing will turn a tile into a mirror!”

                 “Neither will any amount of meditation, as you practice it, make you into a Buddha.” 

                “What should I do then?” Mazu asked.

                “If you were driving a cart and it stopped, what would you do?  Would you strike the cart or the ox?”

[Nanyue Huairang – Zen Masters of China: 79, 84; The Story of Zen: 144-45]

Qingyuan Xingshi [W-G: Ch’ing-yuan Hsing-ssu / J: Seigen Gyoshi]

                 Qingyuan Xingshi, an heir of the Sixth Patriarch, provided this famous description of Zen training:  

                “Before I began the study of Zen, mountains were mountains and waters were waters.  When I first achieved some insight into the truth of Zen through the benevolence of my teacher, mountains were no longer mountains and waters no longer waters.  But now that I’ve attained to full enlightenment, I’m at rest, and mountains are once again mountains and waters are waters.”

[Qingyuan Xingshi – Zen Masters of China: 75, 78, 95; The Story of Zen: 153]

Danyuan Yingzhen [W-G: Ying-chen / J: Oshin]

            On the first anniversary of Nanyang Huizhong’s death, his disciple, Yingzhen, arranged a memorial banquet.  One of his monks asked if they could expect Huizhong to attend. 

                “No, he won’t,” Yingzhen admitted.

               “In that case, why are we offering this banquet?”

               “So the truth will not be lost.”   

[Danyaun Yingzhen – Zen Masters of China: 77]

Nanyang Huizhong [W-G: Nan-yang Hui-chung / J: Nan’yo Echu]

Nanyang Huizhong – who became known as the National Teacher – studied with the Sixth Patriarch, Huineng, for many years, after which he retired to a temple on Mount Baiya. Although he did not leave the temple for forty years, his fame extended to the court, and the Emperor invited him to come to the capital.  Huizhong deferred twice before finally assenting to a third invitation.  It is said that the Emperor was so pleased with his acceptance that when the carriage carrying Huizhong approached the palace, the Emperor himself went out to grasp its shaft and help pull it the final distance.

[Nanyang Huizhong – Zen Masters of China: 73-77; The Story of Zen: 142-43]

Dajian Huineng [W-G: Ta-chien Hui-neng / J: Daikan Eno]

         The Sixth Patriarch, Dajian Huineng, once came upon a group of monks observing and discussing a flapping pennant.  The first monk said, “It’s the pennant that moves.”  Another objected, “The pennant is an inanimate object and has no power to move; it is the wind that moves.”  Then a third said, “The flapping of the pennant is due to the combination of flag and wind.”

                The Sixth Patriarch interrupted the discussion, telling the monks, “It’s neither wind nor pennant that moves, rather it’s your own minds that move.”

[Dajian Huineng – Zen Masters of China: 59-67, 72-73, 74, 78, 79, 80, 94; The Story of Zen: 136-42]

Daman Hongren [W-G: Ta-man Hung-jen / J: Daiman Konin]

                Daman Hongren came to visit Daoxin when he was only six years old and asked to be admitted to the sangha.  Daixin asked the boy what his family name [hsing] was, and Hongren replied with a clever pun: “I have a nature [hsing] but it is not an ordinary one.”  Although the characters for “name” and “nature” are different, they are pronounced the same.

                “What is it then?” Daoxin inquired, still asking for the precocious child’s name.

                “It is Buddha-nature [fo-hsing].”

                “So you have no name [hsing]?”

                “No, master,” the boy continued the pun, “because it [referring to his nature] is empty.”

                Daoxin accepted Hongren as a disciple, despite his age, and the boy dedicated himself to the practice with fervor. He would become the Fifth Patriarch of Chinese Zen and the teacher of the equally precocious Huineng.

[Daman Hongren – Zen Masters of China: 55-57, 61-65, 72]

Dayi Daoxin [W-G: Ta-i Tao-hsin / J: Doshin]

                 As Huike had done, Sengcan retired to the mountains. Dayi Doaxin heard about him and sought him out. Sengcan asked his visitor what he was looking for, and Doaxin replied: “Please show me the way to achieve liberation.”

                “Who is it that holds you in bondage?” Sengcan asked.

                “Well, no one,” Doaxin admitted.

                “Then why are you seeking liberation?”

                These words startled the young man, and he became Sengcan’s disciple and eventually the Fourth Patriarch of Chinese Zen.

[Dayi Daoxin – Zen Masters of China: 53-54; The Story of Zen: 135-36]

Jianzhi Sengcan [W-G: Chien-chi Seng-ts’an / J: Sosan Kanchi]

                After Bodhidharma’s death, Huike retired the mountains. While there, he was approach by a layman with leprosy.  The layman hoped that Huike could free him of the sins which he believed were the cause of his condition.  Echoing his own teacher, Huike told the man, “Bring your sins here, and I’ll rid you of them.”

                “When I reflect on my sins,” the man admitted, “I’m not sure what they are.”

                “Then you’re cleansed,” Huike told him.  “Now all that remains is for you to take refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.”

                “What are the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha?”

                “Mind is Buddha.  Mind is Dharma.  Dharma and Buddha are not two.  So it is with the Sangha.”

                The leper then made one of those intuitive leaps of understanding only possible when one has been considering a problem, as he had been considering the problem of sin, for a long time: “Now I understand that sins are neither within nor without,” he exclaimed.  “Just as the Mind is, so is Buddha, so is Dharma.  They aren’t two.”

                Huike recognized that here was the man who would be his successor, and the Third Patriarch of Chinese Zen, and he gave him the name Sengcan, which means “jewel monk.”    

[Jianzhi Sengcan – Zen Masters of China:  51-53; The Story of Zen: 134-36]

Huike [W-G: Hui-k’o / J: Eka]

                The Second Patriarch of Chinese Zen was Huike. He was a Confucian scholar who sought a teacher to help him resolve the concerns about life and death which weighed heavily on his mind. He had visited many teachers, Confucian, Taoist, and Buddhist. He studied all three traditions and was well versed not only in the Confucian classics but also in the doctrines of both the Theravada and Mahayana schools of Buddhism. Nothing, however, had brought him peace of mind. In desperation he sought out the old barbarian monk, Bodhidharma, who was said to have come from the land of the Buddha.

                When Huike presented himself at Bodhidharma’s cave, the Indian monk suspected his visitor was another who came seeking an intellectual explanation of Buddhist doctrine rather than the experiential insight which comes from the practice of meditation.  So for a long while he ignored Huike. The Confucian, however, remained patiently outside the cave, waiting several days for Bodhidharma to acknowledge him.

                One night, it began to snow. The snow fell so heavily that by morning, it was up to Huike’s knees. Seeing this, Bodhidharma finally spoke to his visitor, asking, “What is it you seek?”

                “Your teaching,” Huike told him.

                “The teaching of the Buddha is subtle and difficult. Understanding can only be acquired through strenuous effort, doing what is hard to do and enduring what is hard to endure, continuing the practice for even countless eons of time. How can a man of scant virtue and great vanity, such as yourself, achieve it? Your puny efforts will only end in failure.”

                Huike drew his sword and cut off his left arm, which he presented to Bodhidharma as evidence of the sincerity of his intention.

                “What you seek,” Bodhidharma told him, “can’t be sought through another.”

                “My mind isn’t at peace,” Huike lamented. “Please, master, pacify it.”

                “Very well.  Bring your mind here, and I’ll pacify it.”

                “I’ve sought it for these many years, even practicing sitting mediation as you do, but still I’m not able to get hold of it.”

                “There! Now it’s pacified!”

[Huike – Zen Masters of China: 48-51; The Story of Zen: 133-35]