《道禪集》

The Ninth Chapter of Collected Daoist Zen

Recorded by Perfected Person Wang Jinpo (a Daoist practitioner):

Recently, fellow Daoists have been approaching me for days seeking Zen teachings, their desire for the Dharma burning intensely. Knowing my own shallow learning and clumsy speech, I fear disgracing our practice tradition. This is like speaking dreams within a dream, adding a head upon a head, where brambles grow in sandalwood forests or fox cries mingle among lions' roars. These are not true sudden enlightenment, merely passing thoughts.

The crux of cultivation lies in turning one's awareness inward. Partial understanding is like holding kudzu vines (symbolizing convoluted theories) yet failing to unlock the door. First, maintain clarity of heart-mind (Xin) to transcend worldly ties; second, recognize the four perversions (Buddhist term for erroneous perceptions) to achieve perfection. Release attachment to names and forms, transcend distinctions of true and false, let go of fixation on the Three Vehicles (Buddhist cultivation stages) - only then can the gate of all wonders open.

Words conceal hidden edges, phrases harbor profound mechanisms. The formless sword of wisdom moves with the hand, the featureless pearl is directly transmitted. Sentences sift jade like autumn moonlight, speech piles brocade like spring blossoms. This resembles the finger pointing at the moon - once the moon is seen, the finger becomes unnecessary; or fishing gear that's discarded after catching the fish.

True understanding shatters painted screens to reveal reality; when the bucket's bottom drops out, one knows the truth of No-Birth (Nirvana). One iota more is like a thorn in the eye, one iota less resembles cutting flesh to heal a wound. Those without wisdom-eye (Huiyan) struggle to comprehend. Modern practitioners fail to recognize their original face yet dissect others' states - better to directly perceive colors and hear sounds (immediate experience) than labor in vain.

The awakened naturally release attachments; the wise respond according to circumstances. It's like opening the seven orifices for Hundun (primordial chaos) to achieve perfect fusion, or smashing the void to shatter the six directions. Though lacking startling methods, there's unique spiritual presence (Qigai). Such realization parts clouds to reveal blue skies - why trek myriad rivers and mountains seeking immortal realms?

No truth hides beneath straw sandals, no heart-essence needs questioning on meditation mats. The present moment reveals directly, the immediate sight transmits clearly. Those with wisdom-eye naturally bear the burden; those lacking strength find perfect opportunity for practice. Concluding with a gatha:

Iron mouth, bronze voice, will unshaken,

Lips spear, tongue sword, words razor-sharp.

Approach closely - heads will roll,

If heads remain, wounds they'll bear.

Now ask: What means this "bear"?

(Note: The concluding character "bear" is a Zen keyword (Jifeng) meant to provoke contemplation)

This scripture expounds the realms of Chan (Zen) Buddhist practice and the state of awakening after enlightenment, employing numerous metaphors to illustrate the distinction between "delusion" and "awakening."

The opening uses the metaphors of being "headless" and "wounded" to describe how deluded individuals, though possessing all their faculties, remain like the deaf and blind—unable to discern the relationship between subject and object (host and guest). Upon true awakening, both movement and stillness are forgotten; even the concept of "Dao" becomes superfluous, let alone abstruse doctrines.

The text then presents vivid analogies:

• Just as breaking free from attachment to "wonderful profundity" leads directly to truth—like releasing a white falcon (白鹞子) in a straight flight, without detouring to ancient Silla (Korea).
• Daily life itself is the Dao; there's no need to deliberately transmit methods, for the bright moon and gentle breeze all speak of Chan.
• After awakening, a single speck of dust contains the entire world (two hundred provinces), and the ten directions and three realms (the whole cosmos) rest atop a walking staff.
• Though seemingly traversing the ends of the earth, one never moves—breaking all distinctions brings perfection, where daytime breezes and nighttime moons become eternal spring scenery.

Further insights include:

• The awakened person sees with their whole being, while the deluded remain blind despite having eyes.
• An iron man clapping makes no sound; a stone maiden plays the sheng without moving her lips—symbolizing realms beyond ordinary perception.
• Like tender bamboo shoots sprouting from winter-dead trees, vitality emerges in extremity.
• Extensive learning pales before resonating with the Chan mind—the clever may never see "heaven" (truth).
• All inherently possess the awakened nature of Guanyin (White Avalokiteshvara); all six senses (ears, eyes, tongue, etc.) can realize wondrous states.
• True Dao is hard-won, requiring precision like aligning a needle's tip with a mustard seed.
• Awakening disperses clouds to reveal the sun; perfected wisdom resembles empty space—with the "eye of complete truth" (全真眼), one sees through everything.
• The closing metaphor—"emptiness as the drum, I the drumstick"—signifies shattering all doubt, transcending distinctions between sage and ordinary.

Throughout, the message is clear: truth resides in ordinary life, never to be sought externally. Letting go of attachments reveals one's true nature, attaining Buddhahood.

The Plain Interpretation of Dao-Chan Collection:

This poetic passage vividly illustrates the unity of Chan (Zen) and Dao through rich imagery:

1. The opening metaphor of an iron flute without holes yet still producing sound reveals how the awakened transcend conventional understanding ("Great Compassion's thousand hands and eyes" symbolize the boundless divine power of Guanyin Bodhisattva), manifesting the full play of wisdom in the present moment.

2. It points out that cultivation requires no external seeking: the dharma realm of emptiness is inherently one, and within every person lies the realm of immortals and buddhas. Upon awakening, the entire universe unfolds before one’s eyes. Just as one fully savors the true flavor of poetry, even grass, trees, mountains, and rivers reveal their original nature.

3. Natural imagery is used to illustrate the eternal Dao: the "Primordial Master of Old" (one’s original face) remains unchanged through countless kalpas, like the peach blossoms that bloom year after year. The spiritual light illuminates the nine heavens, manifesting the Penglai paradise according to conditions. Spring willows and winter plums each follow their season—all are expressions of the Dao.

4. The state of cultivation: maintaining transcendence amid worldly chaos ("standing firm in a den of wolves and tigers"), moving freely like the formless white ox (symbolizing pure Yang Qi). The Dantian (energy center) operates naturally without forced effort. But if one becomes lost in external pursuits ("greedily wandering fragrant grassy paths"), the true heart is obscured.

5. The key lies in "a single thought unborn": when attachments are released, it is as though the Mysterious Pass (a crucial point in cultivation) suddenly opens, and one becomes as free as the bright moon and gentle breeze. The ordinary mind is the Dao—deliberate seeking only leads to secondary understanding.

6. Finally, seasonal imagery reveals insight: withered wood meeting spring, the shade of the rootless tree in June (symbolizing the primordial Qi), the cool purity of red furnace and snow, the golden chrysanthemum’s fragrance in autumn breeze—all demonstrate how the true nature transcends time and space, blooming like an iron tree in the present moment.

The entire text emphasizes: the Dao is found in the ordinary, with no need for external seeking. By dissolving dualistic distinctions ("spring’s colors fill the sky, neither high nor low"), one directly realizes the "eternal truth" (ultimate reality) in the present—this is true liberation.

This passage from the Dao Chan Ji (Collection of Daoist Zen) harmonizes Daoist and Chan Buddhist thought, using Zen-inspired language to expound the essence of spiritual cultivation:

The opening metaphor of "two clay oxen battling beneath the sea" depicts worldly people like fighting oxen sinking into the depths—nostrils upturned yet utterly disconnected—symbolizing how attachment to conflict causes us to lose our original nature. The phrase "the moon of formlessness shines in autumn" reveals our true suchness remains unchanged like the autumn moon, unaffected by the illusory flowers (attachments) produced by the "eye disease" of deluded thoughts.

The middle section employs the metaphor of "casting iron into sour dumplings," illustrating how people forcibly shape raw iron (original mind) into pickled pastries (attachments), thereby losing the true flavor and stumbling over impermanence (life and death). "The Western Heaven lies 108,000 miles away" reminds practitioners that enlightenment isn't found through distant seeking—upright sitting itself constitutes the work, requiring the opening of the "eye at the back of the head" (wisdom eye) to comprehend.

The "white ox in open pasture" symbolizes the unfettered mind-nature, roaming freely like a grazing ox, drinking when thirsty and eating when hungry in natural accord—even a wooden man understands this principle. "All phenomena reveal the solitary body" shows the myriad things are manifestations of one's own mind, where emotions and attachments are merely "family members in our own house" (projections of mind-nature).

The concluding imagery of "shattering the great void" describes how adepts, having seen through emptiness (delusions), must then reestablish true emptiness (suchness) within the mysterious realm of profound darkness—like golden lotuses blooming amidst flames, representing transcendence beyond dualities of sacred and profane. The final vision of "distant mountains blue as indigo" signifies return to original perfection, the complete state of neither addition nor subtraction.

Throughout the text flows the philosophy of non-duality: affliction is precisely enlightenment, samsara is nirvana itself. It emphasizes the essential practice of directly pointing to the original mind while abiding in neither extreme.

This passage from the Collection of Daoist Zen uses poetic language to describe the state of cultivation and enlightenment. Here's my vernacular interpretation:

When practitioners recite wildly, it's not frivolity but an opening of mundane delusions. If one can awaken the nameless ruler within (referring to the primordial Shen), they'll wield the Dao as effortlessly as tailoring empty space.

All phenomena in the void have their origins—one must find their true master (the authentic self). Only by truly understanding the nature of emptiness can one comprehend the essence of "Complete Perfection" (Quanzhen, the highest state of Daoist cultivation).

When enlightened beings meet, their minds open suddenly, and the scenes before them no longer confuse. Those who truly attain the Dao are like drinking the entire West River dry or riding a mud dragon (symbolizing mastery of Yin-Yang) across the sea—utterly free.

The highest Zen state is maintaining clarity and emptiness (qingxu). Eating when hungry, sleeping when tired—this is naturalness. To understand deeper truths, observe how pines beyond the clouds point to the heavens.

The profundity of Daoism lies in the practitioner's own transformation. Autumn moons, spring blossoms, winter snows—these natural phenomena all manifest the true master (one's fundamental nature).

Ordinary people don't understand life's true meaning. In truth, ears can "see" and eyes become like eyebrows (transcending sensory limitations). The spring scenery within the gourd (the microcosm of the body) remains eternal—transcendent vistas hold their own mysteries.

Heaven and earth are fundamentally one. If one can subdue the heart-mind (pressing down the dragon's head), they won't drift with the currents.

Few know the Dao's profound mechanisms—people often bind themselves and create doubts. Awakening is like sunrise illuminating the sky; delusion resembles wind disturbing water's surface.

That spark of spiritual awareness (lingxu) predates heaven and earth—even ancient sages found it ineffable. True Zen meaning can be conveyed through mountain stream pine winds.

A needle's eye or mustard seed isn't truly narrow; distant horizons aren't truly vast. Those with penetrating vision aren't deceived by appearances.

Pity those chasing illusory visions, abandoning their true path to seek elsewhere. They don't realize there's originally nothing to attain—profound truth is like sand in the eye (right before us yet unseen).

Bamboo before the hall, orioles beyond willows—all contain Zen meaning. Those with wisdom eyes understand naturally, needing no explanation.

Seeing forms and hearing sounds can both reveal fundamental truth—dharma-nature manifests everywhere. Flowers of enlightenment bloom universally, though the sprout of spiritual awareness marks no seasons.

The deep, vast Zen mind resembles the void—wordless yet containing all dharmas. Recognizing one's original face, one realizes truth has always been before one's eyes (between the eyebrows).

Seeing things illuminates the mind; illuminating the mind turns all earth to gold. Everyone carries a luminous pearl (their fundamental nature)—no need to seek externally.

Sometimes obstinate clinging only wastes effort. Better to topple... (the text breaks off, suggesting the need to shatter attachments)

This Collection of Dao and Chan uses poetic form to elucidate the essential principles of Chan (Zen) Buddhism and Daoist cultivation:

The path of practice requires no distant seeking: The golden elder (one’s intrinsic nature) need not be sought externally, for true awakening is present here and now. Roaming to the ends of the earth is inferior to quiet contemplation—even the cries of apes and the chatter of sparrows conceal profound mysteries.

Our original nature is complete from the start: The Three Bodies (Dharmakāya, Sambhogakāya, Nirmāṇakāya) and Four Wisdoms (Great Mirror Wisdom, etc.) inherently lack form, yet manifest naturally when cultivation reaches fruition. Like a beauty needing no adornment, one’s true face is the most authentic reality.

Pitfalls in seeking the Dao: Deliberately chasing enlightenment is like stirring waves on calm water—it only creates obstacles. Only by clearing away delusion can one perceive the true nature, vast as a cloudless sky.

Pointing directly to the mind: When asked about the essence of Buddha-Dao, simply indicate the Spirit Mountain (a metaphor for the original mind). Seeking it intentionally leads nowhere, yet in effortless awareness, one’s true face appears spontaneously.

Lessons from Chan koans: The cases of Mahākāśyapa (first Chan patriarch) raising his fist and Ānanda pressing palms together reveal truth beyond words. Like shadowless pines or first-blooming flowers—all are manifestations of original nature.

The true essence of practice: The "spiritual elixir" (awakening) requires no forced refinement—simply embrace it now. Shatter conceptual shackles ("breaking open the brain"), and clarity arises naturally.

Transcending duality: Release subjective distinctions (forgetting both mind and environment) to perceive reality clearly. The metaphors of a wooden man (mindless one) wearing boots and a stone maiden (barren woman) conversing illustrate realms beyond ordinary cognition.

Dissolving attachments: Topple abstruse theories ("the profoundly mysterious") and see through illusory appearances. Like bamboo shoots on cold cliffs—an entirely different universe unfolds.

Chan’s skillful means: Raising a fist is a Chan teaching device, yet unsuitable for the deluded. Practice must accord with the moment.

The consummate state: Original nature is like empty space; luminous wisdom is inherently perfect. Great awakening needs no explanation—seeing the essence reveals all as one.

The final verse reminds us: The wondrous truth of absolute emptiness lies beyond words, yet poetry may hint at it. Though truth has no form, each realization brings fresh insight.

(Note: The text frequently employs Chan’s "sharp-pointed" dialectic—using paradoxical language to shatter conventional thinking and point toward the ineffable realm of practice.)