Someone asked Xuedou, "What is the living meaning of Zen?"
Xuedou said, "The mountains are high, the oceans are wide."
Although the metaphorical language of the ocean and waves may have been influenced by imported ideas, symbolism concerning the mountains was already strongly embedded in Chinese culture. We might immediately recognize the mountain as a symbol representing stability, immensity, and height. In other words, as something immovable and powerful, that pierces the very heavens. The archetype for this type of symbolism is undoubtedly Mount Sumeru, an unimaginably large mountain that is at the center of every cosmos.
A monk asked, "When not producing a single thought, is there any fault or not?
Yunmen said, "Mount Sumeru."
To relate this case to the first part of our series, Yuanwu often said of Yunmen that he could give a word that followed the streams and currents, encompassed heaven and earth, and cut off all flows. In other words, Yunmen's response addresses the particular karmic path of the student. Secondly, Mount Sumeru is a truly Jungian type of symbol, surrounded by multiple ranges of mountains like a temenos, with the niraya-hells directly below it and the deva-realms above; in this way he invokes something that covers heaven and earth. Finally, in giving a turning word, the flow of discriminating thought is cut. For now, we might simply ponder the idea of a mountain as a sort of anchor for all creation.
Sumeru is far from the only 'magic mountain' in Chinese lore. The 'Three Mountains' (Penglai, Yingzhou, and Fangzhang), were said to be the home of Taoist Immortals - sages who had become deathless through ascetic practice and acquisition of esoteric wisdom. Linji made reference to them in his teaching: "Forever transcending past and present is the body of perfect wisdom. Blocking the way to the Three Mountains there is a manifold barrier." To the Zen student hoping to attain immortality or supranormal powers, Linji's allusion draws attention to the many barriers preventing them, while also emphasizing that all they need is to transcend the three eras (past, present and future).
Mountains in China have been seen as a particularly powerful aspect of sacred geography. They are sometimes the dwelling places of the dead, or of local divinities. Yün-chü claims to be bothered by visits of "heavenly spirits" to his mountain hut (TSL 49). Mountains are filled with dangers, such as ferocious beasts, but they also hold a magnetic attraction to which the wealth of Chinese landscape painting and poetry bears testimony. In entering the mountains the pilgrim is often entering another reality. When Tung-shan encounters Lung-shan in his mountain abode, he is reminded that there are no roads into the mountain. Furthermore, Lung-shan seems to be as old as, if not older than, the mountain itself (TSL 23). In addition to being regarded as an external, physical sacred space, mountains have also been seen as images of internal, subjective sacred geography. In the Lieh Tzu, an early text associated with the Lao Tzu and the Chuang Tzu, we find accounts of journeys, rich in descriptions of natural scenery, that are explicitly identified as inner spiritual journeys. (1)
These considerations may have played into the emphasis on the mountain as a spiritual simile in Zen. Zen masters tended to denounce any significance to physically entering the mountains, lest their students become attached. Linji allegedly banned Zen students from making pilgrimages to Mount Wu-t'ai, where hey hoped to commune with Manjusri, cautioning them not to imagine that there were any places that were more or less conducive to practicing the Dharma, and even asserting that the students themselves were already 'the living Manjusri'. All the same, the canon is replete with characters one day deciding to vanish into the peaks, often never to return. More than a few records of the masters note some number of disciples who received the teaching and 'entered the mountains', producing no Dharma-heirs. (2)
One practice associated with pilgrimage is that of "entering the mountains." On a practical level, the connection may seem quite obvious, since so many of the Ch'an masters had their temples on mountains. To visit them one could not avoid entering the mountains. However, journeys into the mountains seem to have been more than this. In the terse anecdotes of the discourse records, where the context is often left unstated, it is significant that mountain wandering, when it occurs, is mentioned explicitly. Furthermore, mountain wandering is often presented as a separate practice, an end in itself, with no mention of visiting teachers. For example, in TSL 39, when Hsüeh-feng tells Tung-shan that he is "returning to the peaks," their conversation concerns only how one goes there. There is no suggestion of visiting anyone. In fact, the manner in which mountain wandering is discussed in the anecdotes is suggestive of spiritual quest. The Chinese term often encountered in the discourse records, ''entering the mountain" (ju-shan), is quite distinct from climbing or going to a mountain.
Of course, this term may not mean anything more than secluding oneself in a mountainous region, as Tung- shan's disciple Yün-chü did in TSL 49. But there are certain spiritual traditions in China, such as Mao-shan Taoism, where the aspirant is believed literally to go inside a mountain in order to undergo spiritual transformation. However one entered the mountains, the implications of the journey invariably seemed to be spiritual. Another word used when referring to mountain wandering is yu (e.g. TSL 76). This term is used in the Chuang Tzu chapter title translated "Free and Easy Wandering," where it implies a mental and physical freedomclearly much more than travel for pleasure. (3)
In the Lankavatara Sutra, 'mountains and rock walls' are described as barriers to physical projections, but not to thought. We might consider this in light of the many references in Zen to an enlightened person's power to pass through impenetrable barriers. The mythology concerning 'wall gazing' might be apt to consider here (keeping mind that the original meaning had nothing to do with literal wall gazing). Thus the portrayal of mountains as both barriers and the dwelling place of sages who move through them freely, without obstruction. When Zhaozhou was asked, "When the mountains close in on you on every side. from all four directions - what then?", he answered. "It is the pathless that is Zhaozhou."
The unattainable entry to the mountain may inform our understanding of mountains as a symbol of the 'heights', a place where one is aloof, elated, or with access to the divine. In my research, I came across an alleged 'Zen saying': "If you want to climb a mountain, you must begin at the top." While I could not source this saying (meaning it is likely an invention), we might relate it to Yuan-tong's saying, "When the task is done beforehand, then it is easy." The insurmountable task of reaching the heights by gradations of practice might be likened to a slow trudge, and this is not advised by Zen masters. Conceiving of enlightenment as a place reached in such a way - where one is thereafter fixed, serene, and surveying reality from on high - is dismissed. Zen masters want to put you right at the zenith to begin with. Zen is about saving energy.
Furthermore, while there are stories in Zen and Taoism about disciples finding instruction on the peaks (the folkfale Seven Taoist Masters is full of such tales), the sought-after teacher ends up being absent. In one tale, a pilgrim seeking a Taoist immortal reaches his thatched hut only to hear from his servant, "The master has gone herb-gathering on the mountain, cloud-hidden." In the Avatamsaka Sutra, Sudhana goes to visit his teacher Meghasri, only to find that he is not there, having left for another mountain.
Vimalakirti said, "It's like this: the high plateau does not produce lotus flowers; it is the mire of the low swamplands that produce these flowers."... If you consider quietude right and commotion wrong, then this is seeking the real aspect by destroying the worldly aspect, seeking nirvana, the peace of extinction, apart from birth and death. When you like the quiet and hate the hubbub, this is just the time to apply effort. Suddenly when in the midst of the hubbub, you topple the scene of quietude- that power surpasses the (meditation) seat and cushion by a million billion times. (4)
Dahui, in one of his letters to a student (above), references the distinction between stillness and activity (essence, ti; function, yong). He warns that idealizing the heights, solitude, or stillness as somehow 'closer' to nirvana is missing the mark. The peaks are thus consistently held as the realm of the masters and sages, but not something to seek after. 'Staying awhile' if one finds himself at the top is a subject toward which Zen masters are ambivalent - how long is too long? Should one be a private buddha, or teach disciples? As a private buddha, is one neglecting the world and falling into stillness? As a teacher, what would you even teach?
With all this in mind, here are some dialogues from Zen masters concerning mountains.
A monk asked Baizhang: "What is the matter of extraordinary wonder?"
Baizhang said: "Sitting alone on Daxiong Peak!" ["the Peak of Great Valor" or "this Great Sublime Peak"]
The monk made a deep bow. Baizhang thereupon hit him.
Yuanwu commented: Baizhang was ordinarily like a tiger with wings.
The Master asked a monk, "Where have you come from?"
"From wandering in the mountains," the monk said.
"Did you go to the top of any mountain?" asked the Master.
"Yes, I did," the monk replied.
"Was there anyone on the top?" asked the Master.
"No, there wasn't," said the monk.
"In that case, you didn't reach the top," said the Master.
"If it were the case that I hadn't gone to the top, how could I know there was no one there?" responded the monk.
"Why didn't you stay awhile?" asked the Master.
"I wasn't opposed to staying, but there is one in India who wouldn't permit it."
"I've been suspicious of this fellow from the first," the Master said
The Hermit of Lotus Flower Peak said: “With my staff across my shoulder, I pay no heed to people — I go straight into the myriad peaks."
essentialsaltsbook *notechandex - For further study, I recommend listening to Sleep's Holy Mountain.
See also: Part I
(1) Record of Tung-shan, Powell translation
(2) For example, Huineng supposedly had 40 unnamed disciples, who 'entered the mountains' after his death; the early lineage records (which are largely mythological) suggest 'vanishing' Dharma-heirs from Bodhidharma, Huike, and Sengcan.
(3) Powell again
(4) Dahui, Swampland Flowers
Submitted January 21, 2018 at 02:41AM by essentialsalts http://ift.tt/2Dp6JME
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