Enlightenment Verses #3 - Dongshan Liangjie (807-869)

Virtuous Webmonks, this is already the third incarnation of a little series on enlightenment verses composed by various ZMs across the ages.

Usually composed after hitting a wall for the longest time before finally walking around it, they are beautiful to behold. Deeply personal and yet profoundly universal.

Featured previously

1. Wuzu Fayan (1024-1104) and his charming breeze.
2. Layman P'ang (740-808) and his exam.

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Today's submission is by Dongshan Liangjie, known as the founder of the Caodong school. One of the lucky T'ang men, Dongshan met a few greats in his time, but matured under master Yunyan Tansheng.

Before taking leave from his ageing master, they had a conversation about how difficult, or inevitable, it would be to meet again in the future, and when Dongshan asked the master how he should portray his likeness when asked about it (traditionally only permitted after a dharma transmission, which had not yet occurred), the master said after a period of silence, "Just this is it." (alt. trans.: “Just this person.”, which could have a double meaning of admitting guilt in a Tang era criminal court).

Noticing Dongshan's deep contemplation on this response, his master advised to be very cautious, now that he had taken up this great matter - a statement which Dongshan could not penetrate fully for the time being.

After leaving Yunyan, he would never see him again. Dongshan's great enlightenment occurred when he saw his own reflection in a river whilst crossing it during his solo travels. He commemorated as follows:

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Verse

Earnestly avoid seeking without,

Lest it recede far from you.

Today I am walking alone,

Yet everywhere I meet him.

He is now no other than myself,

But I am not now him.

It must be understood in this way

In order to merge with Suchness.

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First for accuracy, we need to remember that the Record of Tung-shan appeared 800 years after his death. But it is the above verse that his younger contemporary Xuefeng cites as having given him ‘an insight’ (refer to the commentary in BCR case 22), so it has that going for it.

A mirror image like the reflection of Dongshan’s body, particularly in water, is a familiar mind simile owed to its property of always reflecting phenomena with absolute immediacy, either clear as in a still pond, or distorted by the swirling rapids of discriminatory thought. This aside, let us imagine under what circumstances he glimpsed his mirror image. Remember that this was likely a precarious Tang dynasty log bridge, not everyone had a fancy arched stone bridge at hand in these days.

I've crossed a log over a ditch in the woods the other day and if I picture myself in full pilgrimage gear going over a river, I would not have my eyes down in the water looking for fish, so I can only assume that he caught his own wet portrait by surprise whilst in the midst of this balancing act. There are in fact three more noted river crossings alongside other travel companions in his record thereafter, every time with a brief pre-crossing exchange with the theme of keeping the feet dry, not getting wet, and not taking a wrong step. Do you still recall the cautioning words of his master?

The first couplet of his poem, whilst it is clear enough to not warrant any interpretation, could nevertheless be metaphorically tied to the way the focus on crossing the wonky log yearning for the safety of the other shore makes one miss the obvious yet overlooked reflection underneath it all. Seeing it unexpectedly might have just undone the bottom of his bucket at that instant, all the lacquer spilling into the stream.

Note again how Dongshan did not attain on a cushion. In fact, if one reads his record in search for any emphasis on silent meditation or any actual instructions for the practice, one can only assume that he has been permanently rotating in his grave since the 13th century, when the claim of tracing Soto shikantaza back to the prominence of his good name started. For Dongshan, zen was clearly in the rice kitchen, in the cold and hot, in the path of a bird, among the peaks.

The remaining couplets of Dongshan's enlightenment verse appear to directly reference the 'meeting again' and 'likeness' themes from the last conversations with his master mentioned above, statements that baffled him until he saw through their meaning at once. Dongshan walks alone through the universe, yet everywhere he meets him — Whom does he meet? Dongshan saw his true nature. “Just this is it.” How about the likeness of his teacher, did they meet again, at last?

How about this ‘he is now no other than myself but I am now not him’ affair? This is most intimate. There is a haunting saying cited in Foyan: “I am you, you are me – nothing is beyond this”. That feeling of ‘myself’ we share with Dongshan, is it not universal? Yet we are not each other. Tonight's full moon shines through my window right now and I don't know where it is, even writing about it is to slander it, but underneath it: Mountains, rivers, the whole earth.

Submitted October 01, 2020 at 06:26PM by Coinionaire https://ift.tt/33jeNh9