From the Record of Linji Huizhao of Zhenzhou:
The master, taking the high seat in the hall, said, “On your lump of red flesh is a true man without rank who is always going in and out of the face of every one of you. Those who have not yet confirmed this, look, look!”
Then a monk came forward and asked, “What about the true man without rank?”
The master got down from his seat, seized the monk, and cried, “Speak, speak!” The monk faltered. Shoving him away, the master said, “The true man without rank—what kind of dried piece of shit is he!” Then he returned to his quarters.
My initial note:
I read this with the sense that I was one of his pupils, listening to this in the flesh. The monk made me think of a witty student-friend you might have—the one I might have—making an incredibly clever point, accidentally. He'd want to speak, but he wouldn't be able to. He'd be at once star-struck and amazed that it worked. You'd feel sorry for him in that moment, but things would go back to normal. Waiting, we hear the master speak. What does he say? Here's what he didn't say, but something that we might grasp anyway: you have a true man without rank, either completely eager to learn or completely humble to await teaching. The true man without rank approached the master and asked about himself. The master, rightfully so, expressed his honest sentiment. It's not sport. Being a dried up piece of ship; I'll take that.
meta-note:
[Long-time lurker].
[maybe this one was posted before... If so, my apologies].
[translation is by Ruth Fuller Sasaki, in The Record of Linji, Thomas Yūhō Kirchner (ed.), University of Hawaii Press].
Submitted December 05, 2017 at 03:33AM by chris_philos http://ift.tt/2iPSFXb
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