The Way of Zen - Alan Watts [46]
At this moment Hui-k’o had his awakening, his tun-wu or satori, so that this interchange purports to be the first instance of what became the characteristic Zen method of instruction–the wen-ta h (Japanese, mondo) or “question-and-answer,” sometimes loosely called the “Zen story.” The greater part of Zen literature consists of these anecdotes, many of them much more puzzling than this, and their aim is always to precipitate some type of sudden realization in the questioner’s mind, or to test the depth of his insight. For this reason, such anecdotes cannot be “explained” without spoiling their effect. In some respects they are like jokes which do not produce their intended effect of laughter when the “punch line” requires further explanation. One must see the point immediately, or not at all.
It should, furthermore, be understood that the main character of these anecdotes is only rarely symbolic, and then, usually, in a rather secondary way, as when the dialogue contains allusions which are obvious to both parties. But such commentators as Gernet (3) are, I feel, mistaken in supposing that the main point is the communication of some Buddhist principle by means of a symbol. The satori which so frequently follows these interchanges is by no means a mere comprehension of the answer to a riddle. For whatever the Zen master says or does is a direct and spontaneous utterance of “suchness,” of his Buddha nature, and what he gives is no symbol but the very thing. Zen communication is always “direct pointing,” in line with the traditional four-phrase summary of Zen:
Outside teaching; apart from tradition.
Not founded on words and letters.
Pointing directly to the human mind.
Seeing into one’s nature and attaining Buddhahood.16i
The successor to Hui-k’o is said to have been Seng-ts’an (d. 606), and the story of their initial interview is of the same form as between Hui-k’o and Bodhidharma, except that where Hui-k’o asked for “peace of mind,” Seng-ts’an asked to be “cleansed of faults.” To him there is attributed a celebrated poem called the Hsin-hsin Ming, the “Treatise on Faith in the Mind.”17 If Seng-ts’an was indeed its author, this poem is the first clear and comprehensive statement of Zen. Its Taoist flavor is apparent in the opening lines,
The perfect Tao is without difficulty,
Save that it avoids picking and choosing.
And again,
Follow your nature and accord with the Tao;
Saunter along and stop worrying.
If your thoughts are tied you spoil what is genuine.…
Don’t be antagonistic to the world of the senses,
For when you are not antagonistic to it,
It turns out to be the same as complete Awakening.
The wise person does not strive (wu-wei);
The ignorant man ties himself up.…
If you work on your mind with your mind,
How can you avoid an immense confusion?18 j
Not only is the poem full of such Taoist terms as wu-wei and tzu-jan (spontaneity), but its whole attitude is that of letting one’s mind alone and trusting it to follow its own nature–in contrast to the more typically Indian attitude of bringing it under rigid control and shutting out the experience of the senses.
The Fourth Patriarch, following Seng-ts’an, is believed to have been Tao-hsin (579–651). When he came to Seng-ts’an he asked, “What is the method of liberation?”
“Who binds you?” replied Seng-ts’an.
“No one binds me.”
“Why then,” asked Seng-ts’an, “should you seek liberation?”19 k And this was Tao-hsin’s satori. The Ch’uan Teng Lu records a fascinating encounter between Tao-hsin and the sage Fa-yung, who lived in a lonely temple on Mount Niu-t’ou, and was so holy that the birds used to bring him offerings of flowers. As the two men were talking, a wild animal roared close by, and Tao-hsin jumped. Fa-yung commented, “I see it is still with you!”–referring, of course, to the instinctive “passion” (klesa) of fright. Shortly afterwards, while he was for a moment unobserved, Tao-hsin wrote the Chinese character for “Buddha” on the rock where Fa-yung was accustomed to sit. When Fa-yung returned to sit