Zen Masters Of China. Richard Bryan McDaniel

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ true understanding, I’ll transmit the robe and bowl to you.”

      Shenxiu bowed and took his leave. He meditated on the Fifth Patriarch’s words for days but was unable come to any clearer understanding.

      Meanwhile, the other monks had taken to reciting Shenxiu’s stanza as a mantra. It so happened that, while he was hulling rice, Huineng heard one of them do so. The young man asked the monk about the gatha, and the monk replied disdainfully, “You Southerner, how is it that you alone of everyone in this monastery don’t know of this gatha composed by our chief monk, who’s surely to become our new master when the present patriarch retires. It’s inscribed on the wall of the corridor in the meditation hall for all to read and admire.”

      Huineng explained that he had not yet visited the meditation hall. “But I’d be grateful if you’d show me the stanza so that I can honor it as well as everyone else.”

      The monk directed Huineng to the spot where Shenxiu had written his poem. When Huineng got to the corridor, he found a district official there as well. The young man asked the official to read the poem to him, explaining that he could not read himself. After hearing Shenxiu’s poem once more, Huineng said: “I’ve also composed a poem. Could you write it on the wall for me?”

      The district officer expressed surprise that someone who could not read would be able to compose a lyric, but he agreed to do so, asking only, “If you’re successful in acquiring the dharma, please don’t forget me.”

      The response that Huineng made to Shenxiu’s poem went:

      The body is not a tree,

       nor the mind a mirror bright.

       Since from the beginning not a thing exists,

       where can dirt and dust alight?

      There is a significant difference between Huineng’s and Shenxiu’s gathas. Shenxiu’s remains dualistic. He compares the mind to a mirror reflecting a world external to it. For Huineng there is no separation, no mirror distinct from what it reflects and no world distinct from its reflection in mind. The reason for this difference is that Shenxiu’s understanding, as Hongren pointed, was theoretical, while Huineng’s was grounded in his awakened mind.

      Later that day, Hongren found a group of monks gathered before the two verses, discussing who the author of the second could be. The patriarch read the new verse, then slipped off his shoe and used it to erase the new lines from the wall. The monks supposed this to mean that he disapproved of them. But when no one was observing him, Hongren went to the granary. There he told Huineng, “Those who seek the Way must be prepared to risk their lives for it.” Huineng had nothing to say in reply. Then, the patriarch asked, “Is the rice ready?”

      “Ready long ago,” Huineng said.

      Hongren told the young man to come to his quarters later that night. Huineng visited the Fifth Patriarch at midnight. When he did so, Hongren acknowledged Huineng as his successor and passed over Bodhidharma’s bowl and robe to his keeping. “But you need to understand that there will be those who will object to you having these. So you must leave East Mountain and conceal yourself until the time is ready for you.” The patriarch also told him that it would no longer be necessary to continue the practice of transmitting the robe and bowl. “The real transmission,” he explained, “is from mind to mind. It’s because of that transmission, and not because of these relics, that you’ll be known as the Sixth Patriarch of our school.”

      Hongren accompanied Huineng to a landing on the river where they found a boat. The Fifth Patriarch seated himself in the boat and took up the oars. When Huineng offered to take the oars himself, the older man said, “It’s appropriate that I be the one to ferry you across.”

      “When I was in illusion, then I needed the guidance of another,” Huineng replied. “But now that my mind’s eye is open, it’s appropriate for me to cross the waters of birth and death by my own efforts.”

      So Hongren turned the oars over to Huineng and got out of the boat, and the younger man set out on his own.

      Three days later, a rumor went through the monastery that an illiterate layman had stolen the sacred relics of the First Patriarch and fled south with them. Outraged at this sacrilege, a group of monks went in pursuit of the thief. They were led by a monk named Ming, who, before entering the sangha, had been a general of the fourth rank. In spite of his time at the monastery, Ming still had a soldier’s manner and temperament. For two months the group followed Huineng. As the chase went on, the other pursuers, one after another, gave up until Ming alone continued undaunted.

      Eventually Ming caught up with Huineng at a pass in the mountains. When the new patriarch saw the former soldier approaching, he placed the robe and bowl on a rock and waited for his pursuer to come nearer.

      “You’ve come for these,” he called when Ming was within hearing distance. “These are merely symbols of our tradition. They have no other value. If you want them, take them.”

      But when Ming tried to pick up the items, he was unable to lift them. Shaken by this inability, Ming paused a moment, then said: “If that’s so, I have no use for them. What I’ve come for is the dharma. So if you are indeed the successor of Hongren, please dispel my ignorance.”

      “If you’ve come for the dharma, then please compose yourself in meditation and refrain from thinking about anything. When your mind is still and receptive, I’ll teach you.”

      Ming did as he was told, and when Huineng saw that the monk was in a state of concentration, he commanded him: “Without thinking about good or bad, show me your face before your parents were born.”

      As soon as he heard these words, Ming also attained awakening. He bowed before the younger man, saying, “Besides this, is there anything else? Are there other secret doctrines?”

      “Nothing I’ve said is secret. If you look within, you’ll find all the secrets within your own mind.”

      “I spent many years on the East Mountain,” Ming said, “but was unable to realize my self-nature. Now, thanks to your guidance, I realize it in the same way that one who drinks water knows whether it is hot or cold. You’re now my master, and I your disciple.”

      “Let’s, rather, say that both of us are disciples of Master Hongren,” Huineng suggested.

      Four years after acknowledging Huineng as his successor, Hongren died in 675. He was seventy-four years old. The Sixth Patriarch was still residing in seclusion in the mountains. He lived for a while with a group of hunters, secretly freeing the animals the hunters trapped in their nets.

      When he was thirty-nine years old, he decided it was time to assume his responsibilities, and he made his way to Fat Shin Temple. As he approached it, he saw 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.”

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

      When the temple СКАЧАТЬ