Cut Off Both Ends, One Sword Leans on the Sky, Cold

Expounding the great storehouse of teachings, the words are upright and so is the meaning.

Cut off both ends entirely, one sword leans on the sky, cold.

—Shi Daochuan, Song Dynasty

Pointing directly to the human mind, seeing one's own nature and becoming Buddha—this is the greatest characteristic of Chinese Chan Buddhism. No empirical or theoretical knowledge is as meaningful as the intuition arising from the depths of the heart. The mind itself is Buddha; apart from the mind there is no Buddha; the straightforward mind itself is the place of practice. Chan cannot be described in words; only the mind itself knows.

He who watches the arising of thoughts is an ordinary mortal; he who acts from innate straightforwardness is an arhat. He whose thoughts do not stir and whose words and deeds are all sincere obtains the true joy of life. Right and wrong, yes and no—cut them all off at once, like a single sword leaning on the sky: sharp, decisive, clean and crisp. That is why the Japanese say that Chinese Zen is full of masculine beauty.

Chan was born of Buddhism yet differs from it. Chan is a new organism that arose when Buddhism met Confucianism and Daoism in China; it fused the Chinese spirit of practical verification with the spirit of constant self-improvement.

Bhikkhu, in Indian language, means "beggar." The bhikkhus and bhikkhunis of Indian Buddhism—what the Chinese call monks and nuns—were originally a group of practitioners who lived by begging alms. But Chinese Chan created a way of life completely different from that of Indian Buddhists; Chan monks proclaimed the slogan "a day without work is a day without food." This spirit of self-reliance saved them from the ridicule of being seen by the world as social parasites.

This monastic rule established by Master Baizhang—"a day without work is a day without food"—can be seen as a response to the spirit of the Hexagram Qian in the Book of Changes: "As heaven moves with strength, the gentleman strives for self-improvement without cease." The pessimism and passiveness inherent in early Buddhist doctrine were swept away in Chinese Chan. As Buddhism transformed Chinese culture, it was itself transformed by Chinese culture.

The Prajna (wisdom) of Chan was infused with the thought of Laozi and Zhuangzi; the behavioral norms of Chan monks unconsciously moved toward Confucianism. Otherworldly Chan monks also learned from worldly Confucians the spirit of taking on social responsibility; Chan monks even formed monk-soldiers in wartime, defending the homeland alongside laypeople.

Chan is the product of the mutual fusion of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism through struggle. When ancient Chinese intellectuals discovered the vastness and completeness of the Buddhist philosophical system, they must have been shaken.

The Buddhist scriptures brought back by the scripture-pilgrim monks Faxian, Xuanzang, and Yijing when they journeyed west had an enormous impact on native Chinese philosophy. The impact of Buddhism on China was perhaps the first revolutionary shock that native Chinese culture ever suffered.

Confucian and Daoist believers rose up in cultural self-defense, trying to block the invasion of this foreign culture. But in the end they found such blocking futile; the religious fervor of Buddhists and the profundity of Buddhist doctrine allowed Buddhism to stand as an equal alongside China's Confucianism and Daoism.

Chinese people should thank Buddhism for its contribution to the pluralism of Chinese culture, just as we today should thank the impact of Western civilization on China's traditional culture for furthering the liberation of our society.

Confucianism and Daoism never gave up their struggle against Buddhism: from initial rejection, to later fabrication of the story that "Laozi converted the barbarians," demoting Buddhism to a branch of Daoism, to full acceptance, and finally to complete sinicization, transforming Buddhism into a part of traditional Chinese culture. In this process, Chan arose.

Buddhism was a revolution launched by Sakyamuni against the traditional culture of ancient India; Chan was a revolution launched by Chinese intellectuals against traditional Confucian-Daoist culture, using Buddhism as its shell. But the outcome of both revolutions was fusion: in its revolution, Buddhism fused with the ancient Indian tradition of reincarnation, and in its revolution, Chan also fused with the essence of Chinese Confucian and Daoist culture.

Song-Ming Neo-Confucianism was a new product of Confucianism under the impact of Buddhism; Chan has the shadow of Neo-Confucianism, and Neo-Confucianism bears traces of Chan. Song-Ming Neo-Confucianism and Chan are the reflection and sedimentation of Confucianism and Buddhism upon their own cumbersome and cluttered traditions.

The Neo-Confucians' "attaining innate knowledge" and the Chan monks' "do no evil, practice all good" are essentially no different; the Neo-Confucian concept of the Taiji (Great Ultimate) or Wuji (Ultimateless) is also quite close to the Chan idea that "emptiness is unity, unity is emptiness." The outcome of war is mutual fusion—you contain me, and I contain you.

Once any force grows powerful enough to dominate the whole world, it becomes so heavy that it is stifling. So it is with Buddhism, with Confucianism, and with Daoism. Through the Tang, Song, Ming, and Qing dynasties, the limited democracy of our country was realized precisely through the competition and fusion of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism. The reason Chinese literati and artists could retain a spark of spirit rather than becoming too wooden is entirely due to this.

Chan monks carry the blood of revolutionaries. Chan not only shook Confucianism and Daoism but also caused an earthquake within Buddhism itself. When one of the true forerunners of Chinese Chan thought, the monk Daosheng, proposed that icchantikas (the irredeemably wicked) could also attain Buddhahood, the entire Chinese Buddhist community rose up against him. Daosheng, with no recourse, had almost nowhere to stand and was practically fleeing from place to place.

The later Chan monks' practice of berating the Buddha and cursing the patriarchs—had it happened a few hundred years earlier—would never have been tolerated by fellow Buddhists. The Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch swept away the verbose and cumbersome tradition of Indian Buddhist scriptures; in both doctrine and style it became thoroughly sinicized. One may say that without this successfully localized Platform Sutra, Chan's influence would never have been so enormous, and Buddhism's influence on Chinese culture would surely have been greatly diminished.

The Platform Sutra localized and simplified the Dharma. The six paramitas of Buddhism—precepts, patience, generosity, meditation, diligence, and prajna—were simplified to emphasize only prajna (awakening, wisdom); sila, samadhi, and prajna were integrated, with wisdom strengthened and precepts and meditation weakened. "Chan meditation" was interpreted as "being free from outward forms is called Chan; being undisturbed within is called samadhi." The cumbersome process of cultivation and verification was reduced to four words: "see one's own nature and become Buddha." How perfectly this suits the Chinese national character that values practical verification! It also greatly pandered to the indolence of the common people, who do not wish to think or practice.

Deep down, Chinese people have never believed in a religion with a personal god. Confucius long ago expressed his position: "What lies beyond the six directions, we leave unexamined" and "Revere the ghosts and gods but keep them at a distance." Even Mozi, who advocated believing in ghosts and spirits, explicitly stated that he invoked them only to make people feel awe.

Chan's "one sword leaning on the sky, cold" is, in the final analysis, the fusion of Confucianism, Buddhism, and Daoism into one, followed by simplification and concentration.

Simplified to the point where the common people all delight in it, simplified to the point where practicing Chan becomes something simple and enjoyable, simplified to the point where an ordinary Chinese person, just by remembering a single gatha—"All conditioned phenomena are like dew and lightning, like a dream, a phantom, a bubble, a shadow; thus should one contemplate them," or "Bodhi has no tree; the bright mirror has no stand. Originally there is not a single thing—where could dust alight?"—can preen himself on having attained the samadhi of Chan.

Who would not be happy to reduce his own troubles while elevating his taste and refinement? But since ancient times, knowing has been easy and doing hard; the unity of knowledge and action, the perfection of awakening and practice, has never been achieved overnight. From ancient times to today, those who love to speak of sudden enlightenment have mostly been shallow, frivolous people whose words do not match their deeds. Japan's "bushido spirit" and "militarism" are also precisely products of Chan.

Cutting off both ends, one sword leaning on the sky, cold—is this not also utter shallowness? This, too, is a pernicious influence of Chan!