The genesis of Zen (Chan) is depicted in a legendary story, where Siddhartha Sākyamuni (c. 565-486 BC) referred silently to dharma nature by showing a flower to his disciples on Mount Sumeru, the imagined paradise of Buddhist believers. [1]The flower is symbolic of beauty in silence, characteristically similar to the fundamental aspect of dharma nature. Therein the Buddha got no response from others except a knowing smile from Mahakasypa, his favorite disciple who got the message as was so subtly indicated in such a metaphorical manner. Ever since then, the Zen Buddhism formed a unique mode of expressing its enlightenment via a poetic genre of gatha that was mostly composed of special images or symbolisms relating to either a budding flower or a natural scene. Coincidently, the Sudden School (dunwu zong) was also allegedly developed from a poetic genre of gatha improvised by Hui Neng, the Sixth Patriarch of Zen Buddhism. Allegorically, the gatha itself has created some images out of a bodhi-tree and a mirror to be discussed later. It is due to such a background that the understanding of Zen is very often identified thereafter with the appreciation of poetic images, symbolisms, and natural scenes. It goes so far as to the extent that the perceiving of the dhyāna (Zen) message is just like the contemplating the beautiful in either nature or poetry through intuition and sensibility. Accordingly. what is considered prajñā may well be compared to poetic wisdom. It is appealing and delicate, like the moon in a lake or the flower in a mirror; it is vague and elusive, like a passing cloud in the sky or mist rising after a rainfall; it is easy-going but far-reaching, like the wind shaking huge pines or the sound of bells from a remote temple. On the surface, this kind of wisdom seems meaningless and useless to those who are preoccupied with practical profits and benefits, but turns out to be useful in the form of prajñā pāramitā (wisdom in perfection) to those who live freely beyond any utilitarian purpose or attachment.

The cultivation of dhyāna and Buddhahood alike depend on the chance of causality. Whenever we put aside our worldly cares and crafty minds, move out of our extravagant abodes and busy streets into the countryside, and look up at the streaming clouds overhead or gaze upon the fresh flora around, we are most apt to rediscover our real selves and share a special affinity with the beautiful in nature. All this is conducive to the nourishment and awareness of dhyāna, through which we can realize and further approach an ontological understanding of human life. Such wisdom is peculiar to Zen perception and experience. In order to expose its basic features and alternatives, we set off to reflect on the revelation from natural scenes, and then proceed to reconsider the psychical path to Zen enlightenment, and the poetic enhancement of sūnyatā (emptiness or void) qua beauty, freedom and happiness altogether.

Revelation from Natural Scenes

The entire process of Chinese history witnesses a continuing investigation of the nexus between heaven and humankind. Now this nexus is slightly modified, and has generally replaced the interaction between man and nature. According to Chinese thinkers, all things can be appreciated through serene contemplation, and beautiful scenes from nature are easily found. To some Western philosophers, nature can enchant humans into a transcendent feeling or aesthetic ecstasy by means of an off-handed demonstration of its magic power. It can endow them not merely with what they need materially and physically, but also with what they need spiritually and intellectually, owing to the light it sheds on existential insight and the human condition. Just as is exemplified in Emerson’s Nature, “Only as far as the masters of the world have called in nature to their aid, can they reach the height of magnificence. This is the meaning of their hanging-gardens, villas, to back their faulty personality with these strong accessories…. These bribe and invite; not kings, not palaces, not men, not women, but these tender and poetic stars, eloquent of secret promises.” [2]

It must be pointed out, however, that the Zen Sect of Buddhism holds a similar attitude towards nature as Daoism (Taoism) does. In most cases, the Daoists (Taoists) advocate the way of “following the spontaneity in nature” (shunying ziran) because they believe that nature as a whole has the virtue of great beauty in silence. Corresponding to Daoism in this respect is Zen Buddhism, which finds inspiration from nature and takes all natural phenomena as symbols of, or gates to, dhyāna apprehension. Thus, regarding Zen insightfulness, what should inspire and illuminate us are not Buddhist sutras, not religious doctrines, not logos, not rituals, but hidden revelations from natural scenes. Those who are observant and sincere enough about the experience of Dao or dhyāna will see clearly what is meant thereby. That is, so long as they are sensitive to natural scenes, they are most likely to feel the oneness between man and nature. Quite possibly they will “come to realize the true essence of human life even in calm breeze and velvet ripples, and to know the real origin of mental state even in tasteless drinks and still surroundings. They are not startled by either grace or disgrace, but obsessed with the blooming or falling flowers in the courtyard; they are so relaxed and at ease, wandering off along with the free movement of clouds overhead. As a result, they are able to enjoy the most fascinating melody while listening to the echoes among pines and streams flowing across pebbles, and to discover the most brilliant patterns in the cosmos when contemplating leisurely the moonlight over the boundless prairie and the shadowy clouds down in the transparent lakes.” [3] As is noticed from the above description, such elements as breeze, ripples, flowers, clouds, wind among pines, springs flowing across stones, moonlight over the grassland, and images reflected in lakes, all gather together to compose scenic vistas, so picturesque and musical, conducive to the aesthetic pleasure and poetic feelings that are accessible only to those who are carefree and non-competitive, broad-minded and tolerant, receptive and sensitive. Here, the depiction as such reveals the picturesque realm and literary mind in one sense, and in the other sense, enjoyable leisure and spiritual freedom derived from the poetic ambience and dhyāna mentality. All this plainly expresses the psychical state of internal tranquility, and the dhyāna perception of metaphysical subtlety as well. No matter what it signifies under such circumstances, we cannot deny its implicit insights into the cosmic order and human condition aside from its poetic wisdom and revelation serving to co-ordinate harmonious interrelationship between man and nature.

This type of poetic wisdom is uniquely represented not only in the Works of Zhuangzi (Zhuangzi), the Sutra of Hui Neng (Tan jing) and the Tending the Roots of Wisdom (Caigen tan) , but also in the Walden and many others. Henry Thoreau, for example, speaks in a tone of a poet-philosopher and advises people to count the flowers on the trees instead of calculating the fallen leaves on the ground when going out for a morning walk. As is known to all, blooming flowers are symbolic of beauty, brilliance and hope, whereas fallen leaves are a sign of death, decay and loss. Rather, one is delighted by counting flowers and concentrating on a positive aspect with an optimistic outlook. On the contrary, you will feel depressed while calculating the fallen leaves, your attention drawn to a negative dimension and a pessimistic vision. Apparently in this case, an attitude can be determinant in that it transforms the situation involved, say, a positive attitude will end up in a positive response, while a negative one results in negativity--- even though the entire setting is the same. Furthermore, whenever you are confronted with a difficult situation, what you should do is adjust your mentality; you can choose to look at either “blooming flowers” or “fallen leaves.” It is for this reason that many philosophers keep endorsing us to learn from nature by nurturing our interest in things and our wisdom in regards to life. In fact, nature becomes beautiful because of human existence, and humankind becomes wise because of natural beauty. Those who can perceive the beauty of great nature will be able to ride up to the highest sphere of human life filled with excellence, spirituality and divinity, so to speak.

Up to this point, one may wonder whether a Zen Buddhism with such a poetic character is a religion or a philosophy. It is actually both par excellence. The Chinese concept of zhexue came from Japan. It was first coined by Nishi Amane (1829-1897), a Japanese scholar who once studied in Europe. Actually, zhexue was a creative translation of philosophy that can be traced back to the Greek notion of philosophia (φιλοσοφια), a compound word made up of philo (φιλο as love) and sophia (σοφια as wisdom), meaning “love of wisdom.” Among ancient Greeks sophia qua wisdom is characterized with emphasis on both thinking and action in a reasonable way. It is therefore subdivided into its two most fundamental aspects: one is theoria (θεωρια) based on intelligence and contemplation, and the other is praxis (πραχις) operated through doing and techne (τεχνη). Both of them aim teleologically to seek aletheia (αληθεια) as truth and to explore the everlasting principle of real knowledge (επιστημη). After all, it is intended to guide us through the journey of life. Now, it extends into two distinct domains: one named theoretical wisdom and the other practical wisdom.

With respect to Chinese philosophy and religion, it cannot do without reference to Zen Buddhism. As for its position and function in Chinese ideology, Zen Buddhism straddles two provinces; it is both a religion and a philosophy. Under certain circumstances, it is a philosophy rather than a religion, owing to its being a study of the wisdom of human existence. Such wisdom is usually contained in poetic imagery or allegorical symbolisms. It is essentially oriented towards spiritual emancipation or liberation. It is exercised through such approaches as self-control, self-concentration and self-enlightenment, thus helping people awaken and transcend the formidable gap between reality and ideality on the one hand, and on the other, leading people to face anxieties and frustrations with ease. It pertains to a psychological balance and joy out of the so-called “bitter sea of boundlessness” (ku hai wu bian). Eventually, it enables people to enter into the kingdom of Zen or dhyāna delight, where the human mind is assumed to be intrinsically purified, peacefully settled, and genuinely pleased.

It is noteworthy that Zen Buddhism as a special form of wisdom stresses mainly these two factors: apprehension and action. The former is achieved via deep contemplation and high awareness, and the latter is actualized through personal engagement and praxis. All of this is somewhat approximating the Greek conception of sophia as wisdom in the theoretical and practical sense aforementioned. However, it is in striking contrast to any religious cults that favor philo-logos, a love of words rather than philo-praxis, a love of action. This being the case, anyone who is serious about the cultivation of dhyāna or Zen enlightenment is not supposed to be a chatter-box, ready to recite doctrines from scriptures or canons. Instead, he devotes himself to insightful understanding and constant praxis so as to stay carefree and transcendent in the mentality of absolute freedom.

Then, what suggestions does Zen Buddhism usually offer as to how to “apprehend” or “act” in the light of dhyāna and prajna? This question is open to many possible answers. What I attempt to do next is to cut through the mist of various interpretations, and propose the most significant ones in accordance with a common methodology for self-directed practice in Zen or dhyāna. They are to be discussed subsequently under the subheadings of “natural spontaneity as a psychical path” and “poetic way of Zen enlightenment.”

Natural Spontaneity as a Psychical Path

When the laymen happen to chat about Zen, they tend to believe in a stereotyped image of a practitioner sitting on a zafu (cattail cushion) while doing zazen (meditation) in a zendo (hall for Zen cultivation). This is often taken for granted as the one and only dharma gate to Zen enlightenment. As a matter of fact, zazen is no more than a form of meditation. In other words, it is nothing but an external means to mind-purification and wisdom-awakening for the ultimate purpose of Zen enlightenment. It follows that a person may well link all his daily activities and even routines up to Zen praxis, provided he is self-conscious of his dhyāna cultivation. Accordingly, he can feel mental serenity when walking so long as he is carefree. Conversely, he may be tied up with anxiety when doing meditation so long as he is burdened by cares. In its final analysis, Zen apprehension or enlightenment does not lie in the adherence to formal procedures, but in the capacity of self-awakening. If what is said above is too abstract, let us try to clarify it more specifically by virtue of a typical case in modern art.

Modern art in the West is largely sustained by the avant-garde. The year 1917 witnessed a particular event in art history when Michel Duchamp, a French artist, submitted to the New York Armoury Show a ready-made urinal picked up from among refuse. He labeled it with the title of “La Fontaine” and presented it as a work of art. Actually, it was a product by the Mutt Company and whose practical use was in men’s washroom. Now, it was through Duchamp’s hand deviated from its original application, lying there upside down like a motionless turtle. The moment when the viewers saw it, they are naturally reminded of the familiar sight of someone pissing, as unpleasant or disgusting as it were. Such a “work of art” was flatly rejected by the organization panel, but Duchamp as its “author” made a big story about it by suing the panel to give a justifiable explication. This event stirred up a heated debate over such issues as “What is art?” and “Is this the end of art?” The whole process brought tremendous benefit and fame to Duchamp in that a number of curious customers queued up to order this “masterpiece.” Among them were at least two well-known art galleries. Surely enough, Duchamp made a lot of money with a deal of eight identical pieces in all. He purchased them first from the Mutt, and then signed his autograph on each, afterwards he sold them out at a much higher price. It is not surprising that Duchamp did his business in a way as if he was issuing a set of pictures printed from an etched plate of copper. [4]

From 1960s to 1980s, Arthur Danto made use of Duchamp’s “La Fontaine” together with Warhol’s “Brillo Box” and Rauschenberg’s “Bed” when reflecting on the question about how ready-mades become found art or art-works. On those occasions he reconsidered the end as well as death of art in comparison, and introduced the notion of the “artworld” to acknowledge that a work of art could be culture-specific; that is, what would be a work of art in one cultural context would not be a work in another. He also probed into the relationship between art and theory in determining whether something is a work of art in a special atmosphere or situation. [5] He discovered that such ready-mades and practical objects as toilets, supermarkets or bedrooms transfigured into works of art when displayed in other places by the artists concerned. The magic power of this transfiguration of the commonplace is said to stem from the “artworld” that consists in certain necessary conditions. In Arthur’s terminology, “To see something as art requires something the eye cannot decry—an atmosphere of artistic theory, a knowledge of the history of art: an artworld.” [6] According to this, one sees something as art just because he bases his judgment on the “artistic identifications” supplied by the “artworld.” Otherwise, he would never regard that something as art, for he would act no differently than a child who holds a matter-of-fact attitude, who only believes what he sees with his own eyes. It follows that the ready-mades could not turn out to be found art without art theories and histories comprising the so-called “artworld.”

Interestingly, Danto made a particular reference to a famous Zen ko-an as he intended to reinforce his argument and specify how ready-mades are altered into found art-works. The ko-an itself implies a sort of wisdom of silent argumentation as it follows:

Before I had studied Zen for thirty years, I saw mountains as mountains and waters as waters. When I arrived at a more intimate knowledge, I came to the point where I saw that mountains are not mountains, and waters are not waters. But now that I have got the very substance I am at rest. For it is just that I see mountains once again as mountains, and waters once again as waters. [7]

Enigmatic as it is, it verifies a personal experience of Zen learning and enlightenment in the name of Qing Yuan Weixin, an old Chinese monk who lived during the Song Dynasty more than a thousand years ago. Right after the above citation, Qing Yuan continued, “Learned practitioners, do you see the differences and similarities between these three opinions? If some of you think of them in black and white terms, I would suggest that you come to me for a vis-à-vis conversation.” [8] A rough reading of the entire passage will indicate three levels of perception relating to the interaction between the subject and the object. At the initial stage, there is a sharp subject-object dichotomy, and external things are conceived to be independent of the subject proper. Therefore, the old monk saw mountains as mountains, and waters as waters. When it came to the intermediate stage, the subject expanded to the extent that it encompassed all the external things within its self-centered imagination, and consequently he came to the point where he saw that mountains were not mountains, and waters were not waters. At the final stage, the subject projected all himself into the outside world, and thus overcame the dichotomy by integrating all into a synthetic whole. The external things were thus imbued with vital and even spiritual energy, and accordingly, mountains were seen once again as mountains and waters once again as waters. On this occasion, the monk became enlightened so completely that he would see things for what they really were without making any artificial distinction on the one hand, and on the other hand, he could naturally discern a dhyāna message from all his surroundings.

Apparently, attitude counts a great deal in this peculiar logic of affirmation, negation, and re-affirmation of the same objects. The images of mountains and waters are altered along with the attitude shaped by the progression of Zen apprehension. Metaphorically speaking, the Zen practitioner could be compared to the audience, and the mountains and waters could be taken as ready-mades, then in this case, the recognition of the ready-mades as found art-works would be largely determined by the audience’s attitude towards their “artistic identifications” or artistic status. The audience might also go through a process of confirming, denying and reconfirming these “ready-mades” in view of their “artistic identifications.” Hence, Danto deliberately extended this implication by asserting that one’s “identification of what he has made is logically dependent upon the theories and history he rejects.” [9] Conversely, one’s identification of what he has made or contemplated is also logically dependent upon the theories and history he accepts. For his rejecting or accepting of art theories and history will cause corresponding changes in cognitive stance and identification consciousness. Under such circumstances, what are looked upon as ready-mades before will be transfigured into works of art, and likewise, what is conceived of as art will be turned back into ready-mades. This could be the case with Duchamp’s work: a urinal transformed into “La fontaine” in the context of avant-garde theories, and then “La fontaine” into a urinal or something else in the atmosphere of some other forms of theories and whatsoever. As is detected at this point, Danto at his best has partly resolved the issue about the transformation of ready-mades into art-works from the perspective of artistic identifications. “La fontaine,” for instance, seems to have hereby obtained its artistic status in a classificatory sense. But, whether or not it is a good work of art in an evaluative sense will remain another matter.

Incidentally, “La fontaine” is a typical example employed to manifest the changing process of audience attitudes and artistic identifications. If we go further to apply the Zen ko-an to identifying the true wisdom in human perception and understanding, what else can we draw from it? To my mind, the first perception of mountains as mountains and waters as waters is based on common sense, which classifies things according to what they appear to be. The subsequent perception of mountains not as mountains and waters not as waters features a seeming attainment of samadhi qua, the quintessence of praĵna as wisdom. The person in this situation is self-opinionated about his Zen cultivation, and considers himself capable of looking at things from a Zen perspective. With an intention to testify and show his Zen experience, he imagines that he gets hold of the subtle images and dhyāna messages from what he beholds. He then sticks to “perceiving things from an egoist vision” (yi wo guan wu), and presumes to have the objects distorted in his eyes. However, he seems complacent about such a perceptual deception as he ventures to render mountains and waters mystified and obscured. He even feels himself intellectually wiser than and spiritually superior to other people. The third perception of mountains once again as mountains and waters once again as waters denotes a crucial turn as an outcome of real enlightenment. It seems to be a kind of return to the objective world, but it in fact reveals a high cognition of “natural spontaneity” (ziran er ran). This cognition is the principle to “contemplate things in view of what they are” (yi wu guan wu), and exemplifies the following fact: The Zen practitioner has abandoned mechanical doctrines (purposive mindfulness and self-opinionated superiority) since he has eventually comprehended the essence of dhyāna on his return to his real self. Being free, plain and at ease, he cultivates natural spontaneity, and takes things as they are without coloring them with his personal preferences or emotions. He lives an ordinary life as he used to, but he shares an insight into the true nature and value of life, as well as all things in the universe. With his mind purified and emptied, he enjoys serene contemplation of mountains and waters, while making no more distinctions in this regard.

It is worth mentioning that the way of natural spontaneity signifies at least two main dimensions: one is just like “the grass that grows freshly green on the arrival of springtime”; because it follows the cycle of four seasons, and the other symbolizes the dhyāna of “Thus Come One” (rulai chan), claiming to “speak out the truth” (rushi daolai) and “be after self-awakening Buddha-hood” (zijue foxing). “Thus Come One” [10] stands for one of the ten titles of the Buddha, and originally meant to “speak out the truth” the realization of complete Buddha-hood. Along this line of thought, it is certain that mountains thus come as mountains and waters thus come as waters through the eyes of “Thus Come One.”

In brief, the attitude towards the way of natural spontaneity is by nature a free and purified state of mind. This state of mind is not to be searched for outside, but to be introspected from within, largely dependent upon the self-awakening of the soul and the subtle apprehending of Zen. It is somewhat similar to what a Chinese nun in the Song Dynasty writes in the poem:

I had traveled thousands of miles to look for spring but in vain,

My shoes were wearing out the clouds across the mountain tops;

On return home I happened to pick up a plum flower to smell,

And found spring already there upon the tree in full blossom.

Just imagine, the hard search for spring scene allegorical to dhyāna from outside tells about nothing but the persistence and sincerity of the Zen practitioner who came back bare-handed. When she approached, consciously or unconsciously, the blooming plum and smelled its fragrance, she became enlightened instantly as she observed the spring scene, already waiting for her to appreciate. The spring scene and the blooming plum alike are symbols of dhyāna, samadhi, prajna, and paramita all together. It shows that there is no way to gain them outwardly, because they are right there in her home, in her heart, or in her Buddha-nature. Thus, the pursuit of Zen from outside is no less than “riding a donkey to search for the donkey” (qilü zhaolü). By this it is meant to be seen as a mere obstacle working against Zen cultivation and apprehension in all cases, because it is a search for reality outside of the phenomenal.

It is worthwhile to mention in passing that the Zen perception of mountains and waters resembles another Zen ko-an known as “rising a further step over the top of the hundred-foot bamboo” (baichi gantou, gengjin yibu). The top of the bamboo in this context symbolizes the climax of attained enlightenment, and “rising a further step” signifies that the Buddhist sage still has something to do after his attainment of enlightenment. What he has to do, however, is no more than the ordinary things of daily life. As Nan-chuan said, “After coming to understand the other side, you come back and live on this side.” [11] Even though the sage continues living on this side, his understanding of the other side is not in vain at all. Even though what he does is just what everybody else does, it bears a different significance to him after all. Even though what he does is no different from what he used to do before, it is only that he himself is not the same as he was, for his life outlook has changed, his sphere of spirituality is sublimated, and his mind is freed from all defilements and afflictions. He is thus enabled to tend things with ease, treat people with tolerance, and stay above worldly considerations or contentions. This being the case, he follows the way of natural spontaneity in that whatever thus comes is not welcomed, and whatever thus goes is not declined. It can be said that he “lives poetically on earth” just like Tao Yuanming, who secured his tranquility within the chaos of a city by means of his insightfulness, cheerfulness and detachment as is depicted in the poem:

I built my hut in a zone of human habitation,

Yet near me there sounds no noise of horse or coach,

Would you know how that is possible?

A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it.

I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,

Then gaze long at the distant summer hills.

The mountain air is fresh at the dusk of day,

The flying birds two by two return.

In these things there lies a deep meaning;

Yet when we would express it, words suddenly fail us. [12]

This poetic depiction suggests the liberation of body and the freedom of mind. As is noticed in the line that “A heart that is distant creates a wilderness round it,” the hustles and bustles and noises produced by human habitation are all thus reduced to quietude and even solitude. It is somewhat similar to the old saying that “A heart that is calm naturally creates coolness within it” (xin jing zi ran liang). It seems to serve as a kind of expedient means for dhyāna. “Then gaze long at the distant summer hills” demonstrates an aesthetic obsession in a disinterested contemplation of the beautiful in the surroundings which include blooming chrysanthemums, summer hills, mountain air, the waning of the day, and birds flying together, from which one can also feel the joy of nature and the pleasure of Zen. It is more or less corresponding to what Cheng Hao experiences in his “Autumn Days”:

All creatures run their course in true content,

As I calmly contemplate.

The pleasure of each season through the year,

I enjoy with others.

A Poetic Way of Zen Enlightenment

As is mentioned briefly, the original cause of Zen Buddhism in China bears poetic features and aesthetic qualities owing to the metaphorical components embodied in a flower, a smile, and other things. It can be observed from a legend as follows:

Once the Buddha (the World Honored One) showed a flower to his disciples at an assembly near the Mount Sumeru. All of them made no response except Mahakasypa who gave a smile. The Buddha remarked: “I have the observant eye of prajna, the wonderful mind of nirvana, the true wisdom of pāramitā, and the delicate door of dharma. Yet, I will write no word about it and leave it to Mahakasypa to disseminate in a different manner.” [13]

The story means a lot as it gives rise to the Zen methodology. Apart from the fundamental characteristics of Buddhism in general, it employs the Buddha as the mouthpiece to express two important principles: one is the deconstructive stance towards the Buddhist sutras, and the other is the legitimacy of discriminating the Zen Sect from the rest of others. Ever since then, the most frequent catchphrase and the supreme doctrine of Zen Buddhism are represented in these four expressions: “Write no word about it, disseminate it in a different manner, awaken human mind straight away, and become Buddha while seeing Buddha-nature,” all of which have evolved from what the Buddha says above.

Relatively speaking, the most poetic touch in this story is exemplified by showing a flower and giving a smile through which the Buddha conveyed the essence of Zen to Mahakasypa. It is right at that moment that “the wonderful mind of nirvana” and “the true wisdom of pāramitā” were imparted from one to another because of “the observant eye of prajna” as “the delicate door of dharma.” Then, the Master and his disciple turn into one, say, they become each other cognitively in so far as the Zen enlightenment is concerned. This demonstrates “a heart to heart communication” that can be implicitly sensed but not verbally explained, and thus opens the path to “non-verbal impartation” and “sudden enlightenment” that are highly championed by the Zen School in South China (nan chan). Moreover, the “flower and smile” legend was further extended in accordance with its poetic wisdom. Practically, it was substituted by gatha, a poetic form used to express one’s understanding and nurturing of Zen message or Buddha-nature. In the long tradition of Zen Buddhism from Bodhidharma onward, the patriarch would hand down the cassock and bowl to his favorite disciple who could write a piece of most impressive gatha to the master’s satisfaction. It was no exception when Hong Ren, the Fifth Patriarch, was intended to select his exponent to inherit the position. By then he had two outstanding but competitive disciples, Shen Xiu (c. 606-706) and Hui Neng (638-713). In order to decide on who would be the new patriarch, he asked them to compose a piece of gatha, each to express their achievement in Zen cultivation. As Shen Xiu practiced Zen with preference for the step-by-step approach, the gatha he created justified it and then led him to establish the Gradual School in North China (bei zong) later on. On the contrary, since Hui Neng favored the sudden approach to Zen apprehension, the gatha he composed emphasized this and thus led him to set up the Sudden School in South China (nan chan).

1. Gradual Enlightenment

Shen Xiu was in fact the premier disciple of Hong Ren, the Fifth Patriarch. When his Master tried to test out his level of Zen cultivation and asked him to describe it in a piece of gatha, he was so self-confident that he accomplished the task by virtue of his personal experience. As he wrote,

 

The body is the Bodhi-tree,

And the mind a mirror bright.

Carefully we wipe them hour by hour,

And let no dust alight. [14]

“The Bodhi-tree” is allegedly the locus where Sākya-muni attained his great awakening and became Buddha, and “Bodhi” in Sanskrit means enlightenment. Such a tree is therefore symbolic of the accomplishment of enlightenment or Buddha-hood. That Shen Xiu likened metaphorically “body” to it not merely indicates his certainty of following the Buddha’s example and achieving Buddha-hood, but also his self-consciousness of nourishing Zen as well as his inborn Buddha-nature. According to Zen Buddhism, everyone is supposed to have Buddha-nature and will become Buddha himself (i.e., self-enlightened). But, many people are rarely self-conscious of this innate virtue. They need to be reminded and awakened to the degree that they realize and concentrate on it. As is read in the third line, the mirror analogy implies a state of mind purified with insight and wisdom, and meanwhile it signifies the character of Buddha-hood itself. Coincidently, mirror is also used analogically in both Daoism and Confucianism. Zhuangzi, for instance, asserts that the sage “makes use of mind as a mirror” (yong xin ruo jing). By this analogy is meant that the sage purifies his mind and identifies himself with the Dao just by following the way of natural spontaneity and having no recourse to any man-made device. Mencius once considers human mind to be like a mirror. When the mirror is clean and bright, one will accordingly stay innocent and good-natured, able to tell right from wrong, approach good and undo evil. If by any chance the mirror is covered with dust and rendered blurred, one is liable to lose his mind and nature and fall into an alienated self. To my mind, the mirror allegory Shen Xiu introduced to confirm his method of Zen somewhat corresponds in a hidden sense to its counterpart in both Daoism and Confucianism. On the surface, he applies a dualist notion of body and mind, and whereby he takes symbolically the body as an external condition and the mind as an internal factor for the awakening of Buddha-nature and the realization of Buddha-hood. But in practice the distinction between body and mind is rather vague, and almost impossible in view of Zen cultivation from both inside and outside. The two are actually one and vice versa as a result of their strong affinity.

Quite ostensibly, the first two lines of Shen Xiu’s gatha are rather figurative, whereas the last two lines are more practical. Both a methodological means and a teleological end are thus specified in that “Carefully we wipe them hour by hour, and let no dust alight.” This can be viewed from either a positive or negative standpoint. Pos,itively, the action of “careful wiping hour by hour” implies advice and encouragement to the Zen practitioner in general. It calls on him to be persistent and constant in what he himself engages. As he continuously reduces his desires, and keeps himself away from disturbances from without, he will be able to keep his mind calm and pure, clear and bright as a mirror free from any dust or worldly defilement. Spiritually, he will be transcendent, going beyond all secular cares and worries. Negatively in contrast, it can be seen as a warning that the human world is filled with dust or defilement, and no one can escape from it because it is ubiquitous and permeates every opening. He who is too slack and reluctant to do the careful wiping in a duly successive mode will leave the mirror dusty for sure. Then, he will become “blind,” ignorant and even confused with the outflow of afflictions and wants, and eventually lose his originally innocent and good nature. According to the Mahayana outlook, all external things are “phenomenal” (dharma or se), real reality is “empty” (sūnyatā or kong), and the world is derived from the everlasting, all-knowing and omnipotent “suchness” (tathata or zhenru). As a derivative, it turns up in varied appearances that are changing, confusing and appealing to human beings. Similar to a victim trapped in infatuation, one will be plunged into a world of dust or a mire of defilement. He will then be exposed to the suffering of endless klesa (afflictions) contaminations and vexations. It is for this reason that he ought to keep the mirror of his mind clean by careful wiping away the dust.

Above all, the careful wiping hour by hour denotes the way of gradual enlightenment. Since everyone has the Buddha-nature and encounters so much interference from the dusty world, he must resist it again and again and persist in continuous cultivation. Only by so doing will he apprehend bit by bit the dharma-nature and gain more access to the realm of Buddha-hood. Throughout the process of this gradual enlightenment, he should be determined to adhere to a threefold mode in order to enhance his personal cultivation and ensure his ultimate awakening. This threefold mode consists in sila, dhyana and prajna. In this context sila involves certain precepts or disciplinary rules, working to prevent people from hankering after material wealth, sexual lust, extravagant food, and exaggerated discourse, etc. Dhyana here refers to meditation, requiring the Zen practitioner to “be at ease and eradicate all the desires” by focusing on the notion of nothingness or emptiness. This is the way to have his mind purified and emptied of any desires and defilements. Prajna that stands for true wisdom here is the final fruit of the proceeding praxis and nourishment. It is equivalent to great awakening and profound enlightenment. On this occasion, one has extinguished all the cares and worries from within, and accomplished the highest virtue of transcendence in the mental state of nirvana. As it is noted in the threefold mode, it performs obviously an organic whole of three interconnected stages of Zen praxis. All this is poetically presented and cleverly condensed by Shen Xiu in a short gatha of 20 Chinese words, so plain in language and so suggestive in expression. As luck would have it, Shen Xiu submitted this gatha to Hong Ren, the Master, and won his appreciation, but his competitor Hui Neng went even much further in this contest.

2. Sudden Enlightenment

Hui Neng is said to have been an illiterate woodsman who was once inspired and illuminated when hearing someone recite the Diamond Sutra (Vajracchedika). [15] Then, he was a disciple to Hong Ren, the Fifth Patriarch, and later succeeded his Master as the Sixth Patriarch, renowned in the history of Zen Buddhism. Since he promoted the principle of “realizing Buddha-nature and fulfilling Buddha-hood at the same time” (jianxing chengfo), he branched off from the mainstream and went on to found the Sudden School of Zen Sect in South China (nanchan dunwupai or nanchan as its shortened name). The whole event began with a gatha composed by Hui Neng himself:

 

Fundamentally there is no Bodhi-tree,

Nor stand of a mirror bright.

Since originally there was nothing,

Whereon can the dust fall? [16]

This gatha turns out to be like a pendulum, swinging to the other side in striking contrast to the previous one composed by Shen Xiu. It claims that there are no such things as the Bodhi-tree and the mirror, and accordingly there is no such distinction between body and mind. According to the conception of sūnyatā, “all is void from the beginning,” or in other words, all phenomena bear no reality at all. It thus terminates the logic of gradual enlightenment and takes as shear redundancy the step-by-step approach to Zen cultivation. For Hui Neng believes that everyone has the Buddha-nature, and carries to the extreme the notion of “realizing Buddha-nature and fulfilling Buddha-hood at the same time.” In his opinion, everyone has Buddha-nature within himself, and what one needs to do is to awaken it and fulfill it oneself straight away. This is because all is empty (sūnyatā) and your Buddha-nature is all, say, nothing outside it can be imagined or invented to be either an obstacle against it or a vehicle for Zen apprehension and enlightenment. Furthermore, there is nowhere the dust can alight. One can obtain sudden enlightenment and realizes Buddha-hood as soon as he attends directly to his Buddha-nature, and makes no distinction between Buddha and himself. Hence, Hui Neng complacently recalls that “When the Fifth Patriarch preached to me I became enlightened immediately after he had spoken, and spontaneously realized the real nature of tathata (suchness or zhenru). For this reason it is my particular task to propagate the teaching of this Sudden School, so that learners may find Bodhi at once and realize their true nature by introspection of mind.” [17] Yet for Shen Xiu, all things in the world are defiled and chaotic, ready to confuse the human mind and corrupt human nature. It is therefore a must for all Zen practitioners to act upon the threefold mode of sila, dhyana and prajna, which can possibly secure the process of gradual cultivation, enlightenment and even fulfillment of Buddha-hood.

In contrast, the method of sudden enlightenment proposed by Hui Neng does not simply discard the primary stage of passive sila qua precepts, but also the intermediate stage of gradual dhyana qua meditation. Instead, it points directly to the final stage of complete prajna qua wisdom. This being the case, all kinds of formal rituals for Zen cultivation are no longer necessary, and all the Buddhist teachings are no longer valid, and all the rules, requirements, and auxiliaries for Zen apprehension are reduced into illusions and vanish like vapors. Now, one avoids all detours and looks into the real nature of dharma; highly conscious of his mind as the original mind, leading to immanent prajna, and of his nature as the Buddha-nature due to the absoluteness of its void. Just as Hui Neng assures,

Prajna does not vary with different persons; what makes the difference is whether one’s mind is enlightened or deluded. He who does not know his own Essence of Mind, and is under the delusion that Buddha-hood can attained by outward religious rites is called the slow-witted. He who knows the teaching of the Sudden School and attaches no importance to rituals, and whose mind functions always under right views, so that he is absolutely free from defilements or contaminations, is said to have known his Essence of Mind (jianxing). [18]

Then, how is it possible to “know the Essence of Mind” (jianxing)? It is of course conditional rather than laissez-faire at this point. According to Hui Neng, the mind should be first of all liberated (ziyou) and remain detached (wu’ai). It should be framed in such a way that it will be independent of external or internal objects, free to come and go, and thoroughly enlightened without the least befuddlement. He who is able to do this is of the same standard required by the Sutra of the Prajna School. Secondly, he should not resort to extraneous help (bujia waiqiu). Because it is by our own innate wisdom that we enlighten ourselves (ziwu), and any extraneous help and instructions from a learned friend would be of no use if we were deluded by false doctrines and erroneous opinions. Should we introspect our mind with real prajna, all erroneous opinions would be vanquished in a moment, and as soon as we know the Essence of Mind we arrive immediately at the Buddha realm. Thirdly, it should be illuminated within and without (neiwai mingche). In this case, we are in a position to know our own mind and to obtain fundamental liberation (jietuo), which then helps us to attain the samadhi of prajna, characteristic of thoughtlessness (wu nian) as the way of great awakening. [19] The idea of thoughtlessness is more or less equal to the way of natural spontaneity. And the approach to sudden enlightenment is, as it were, suitable to the pragmatic reason at the core of Chinese thought in its long cultural heritage.  Pragmatic reasoning of this kind always stresses the value of immediate effect in a manner as “cutting vegetables with a sharp chop” (daoxia jiancai). It also goes without saying that the act of contemplation is not caused by innate wisdom but guided by the original mind. That is why the Sixth Patriarch affirms that “If we knew our mind and nature, all of us would attain Buddha-hood. As the Vimalakirti Nirdesa Sutra says, ‘At once we become enlightened and regain our original mind’.” [20]

As for this original mind (benxin) in view of Zen Buddhism, it is seen as an idealistic entity and the cause of all things in the phenomenal world. When it focuses on Buddha-nature and realizes the tathata, it has a broadened scope to accommodate and even transform all things as though they were no longer existent outside it. Taken this for granted, Hui Neng pronounces that the capacity of the mind is as great as that of cosmos. It is infinite, neither round nor square, neither huge nor small, neither long nor short, neither first nor last. It works just like the absolute void of the universe capable of holding myriad things of various shapes and forms, such as the sun, moon, stars, mountains, rivers, worlds, springs, rivulets, bushes, woods, good men, bad men, dharmas pertaining to goodness or badness, Deva places, hells, great oceans, and all the mountains of the Sumeru. We say that the essence of mind is great because it embraces all things and all things are within the mind. When we see the goodness or the badness of other people, we are neither attracted by it nor attached to it, so that our mind remains as void as the cosmos. Therefore, we call it “maha” (great and broad). [21] The mind allegory in terms of the absolute void of the universe signifies its accommodating capacity. Nevertheless, such capacity differs from a possessing capacity. When the mind assumes nothing from outside, it retains nothing inside either. This shows the peculiar logic of Zen that is intended to secure prajna and tathata by vanquishing all things in a second according to its attitude towards sūnyatā. It therefore takes all things alike and makes no distinctions because it bases its perception on the ultimate principle of nothingness and emptiness with regard to the phenomenal and transient world all around. In addition, it reveals an essential feature of sudden enlightenment as is ensured by the awareness of the infinite and absolute void. Once you have arrived at this stage in the light of Zen logic, all gone is the discrepancy between all things and entities, including appearance and essence, substance and emptiness, subject and object, commonness and sageliness, I and the Buddha, apart from any form of value judgments mentioned above. What is more, the sense of time in sudden enlightenment is by nature immediate, and the sense of space is the zero distance between I and Buddha. Such sense of time and space seems to be not easily obtainable as it comes along very much in the same manner as the poem describes,

Looking anxiously for the beloved here and there,

But I found no sign of her at all.

When I suddenly turned my head around

I saw her standing right there below a waning light.

Surely enough, the process of searching is accompanied with anxiety, eagerness, persistence and even confusion because it is so difficult and frustrating. Then, a pleasant surprise comes up at the moment of success to compensate all. It is just like what the French motto says, “Tout va bien qui finit bien.”

It is worth noticing that the identification of “I” with Buddha is the due outcome of sudden enlightenment. He who seeks after this identification will fall into confusion if he dedicates all his attention in an erroneous direction. It is allegorically similar to the fact that he plans to go to the South but drives his chariot towards the North; the faster he goes, the farther away he moves away from his destination. Hence, the attainment of Zen and prajna is not merely dependent upon the immediacy of enlightenment, but also upon the ability of “self-awakening and self-liberating of his original nature” (zixing zidu). This nature is actually Buddha-nature immanent in himself. It should be realized and then fulfilled by detaching himself from all outer objects of a dharma-ridden kind, and purifying his mind of depravations, cares, ignorance, stubbornness, prejudice and so on. Above all, the pure mind is most crucial because the Buddha land is simultaneously pure when the mind is pure, and accordingly the Buddha-nature is simultaneously awakened when the original nature is liberated. In order to achieve all this, Hui Neng advises people to deal with dharma while keeping inner peace in Samadhi (waichan neiding). He even proclaims in terms of The Bodhisattva Sila Sutra that “Our Essence of Mind is intrinsically pure,” and encourages us to realize this for ourselves at all times, practice it by ourselves, and attain Buddha-hood by our own effort. [22] This effort is not supposed to be applied to religious rites conducted in temples, but to such daily activities as collecting firewood, fetching water, walking around in the courtyard, etc.

Up to this stage we may find Zen logic a bit absurd and self-contradictive. As is read in the gatha by Hui Neng, for example, he explicitly denies the existence of all things by assuring that “originally there was nothing” in terms of the Mahayana principle of sūnyatā. Then, why does he repeat again and again that the existence of myriad outer objects in contrast to the pure mind, the original nature, and even the Buddha himself? We therefore assume that his denial is no more than an expedient means for the sake of Zen apprehension, and his logic as such is pragmatically serving only within his defined scope. Besides, the above distinction between gradual enlightenment and its sudden counterpart is not that striking and permanent so long as the mind is purified, the Buddha-nature is awakened, and the Buddha-hood is realized. For this reason, there is some relevance in this statement: “In orthodox Buddhism the distinction between the Sudden School and the Gradual School does not really exist. The only difference recognized is that by nature some men are quick-witted, while others are dull in understanding. Those who are enlightened realize the truth in a flash, while those who are under delusion have to train themselves gradually. But such a difference will disappear when we know our own mind and realize our own nature. Therefore these terms, gradual and sudden, are more apparent than real.” [23]

The Realm of Sūnyatā as Beauty

As is inferred from above, both the Gradual School and the Sudden School belong to Zen Buddhism, and their division is merely apparent in that they introduce two approaches to dhyāna practice. In the final analysis, they are no more than two roads leading to one destination, that is, the attainment of prajna and the enlightenment of Buddha-hood. For they are grounded on the Mahayana theory of sūnyatā, claiming that “all around in the four directions to be empty and void by nature” (sida jiekong). [24] In the Zen experience, when you are enlightened to the extent that you perceive all things in view of absolute emptiness or voidness, you are thought to have reached the realm of sūnyatā, attained the truth of prajna, and fulfilled the nature of Buddha-hood. Hence, what is more crucial and determinant to either Zen monks or Zen poets is the realization and expression of sūnyatā as the most appealing and beautiful of all.

The realm of sūnyatā is highly recommended in Zen Buddhism, and often expressed poetically by means of three scenes. The first scene follows,

Everywhere the wild hills are covered with fallen leaves,

Where can I find a trodden trail to walk out?

The couplet indicates metaphorically a persistent search for Zen in a dhyāna exercise. The practitioner here was looking up and down for a short cut to Zen apprehension, but was wandering around in eagerness and confusion as he failed to get any where, simply because he pursued from without. As is indicated in the question “where could I find a trodden trail to walk out?”, his introspective cultivation still remains at the initial stage where he cannot purify his own mind and awaken his own nature. Then there follows the second scene,

In the wild hills there are no persons,

But flowing waters and blooming flowers.

Tranquil and empty as the hills are, but there is vitality and charm hidden in running waters and beautiful flowers. All things are as natural as can be in this environment, implying an intermediate stage of Zen cultivation at which the state of nirvana is not completed yet, and the realm of sūnyatā is still some distance away because one can still recognize the outside objects with reference to the dharma-ridden law. Some people tend to assume that the Zen practitioner at this point has already entered into tranquility, and apprehended the true meaning of Zen only in part so far. It is somewhat like “something that was grasped in hand but then slipped through the fingers.” Finally, there emerges the third scene as such,

The broad sky is of eternal existence,

The entire landscape turns out in one morning.

By this is meant that the eternal being of the universe is conceived of in a moment, and so is the long history of natural and human evolution. There is no discrepancy between the momentary and the eternal with respect to time, but just oneness between all things with respect to space. Taken as the highest awareness of Zen, it is associated not merely with a sudden mystical and subtle enlightenment, but also with an intuitive perception and sūnyatā experience. It is right at the moment that the practitioner has regained real liberation and absolute freedom. Thereupon, he projects himself into harmonious and serene Nature, and makes no distinction between mountains and waters, the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, the phenomenal and the real, and even the day and the night, etc. He feels as if this moment “had seemingly transcended time and space, cause and effect, and as if the past, present and future were seemingly fused together such that any division became rather impossible. Actually, he has no intention to make any division in this regard as he is no longer conscious of either where he is or where he is from. All this, of course, goes beyond the man-made boundary between oneself and other things, and leads him to identify himself with the outside world and thus become integrated into everlasting oneness. [25] However, the moment is an indispensable factor, without which eternity cannot be in and of itself despite the equivalence between them, in terms of the Zen sense of time. The sūnyatā experience may justify that all is empty or void, but at the same time it may mean the enlightened does not bother about such emptiness or voidness. He lives his life naturally as he used to, but in reality he has transformed himself into a greatly awakened sage with insights into prajna and Buddha-nature. In other words, he has the feeling that he is Buddha himself at a time when he is experiencing something eternal in a moment.

Such an experience is typical both of sudden apprehension through which you enter into the sūnyatā realm, the highest state of being in Zen Buddhism. The realm itself is not only retained in the absolute voidness, serenity and profundity, but also in subtlety, inspiration and transcendence. Now, it has transformed the finite I into the infinite I, the ordinary into the extraordinary, the depressed into the delighted, the necessary into the natural, and above all, brought forth the oneness between Bhrama and I (fan wo he yi) or between heaven and human (tian ren he yi). In a word, it has eventually rendered human existence spiritually free and aesthetically artistic. Hence the process of Zen cultivation is thought of as the process of artistizing human life, the outcome of Zen apprehension as the outcome of such artistization, and the essence of Zen wisdom as the essence of life wisdom. This kind of wisdom calls for the purification of your own mind and the return to nature where you may well apprehend Zen’s message in the beautiful and mystical scenery, or perceive the poetic appeal in the plain and familiar things around. For Zen, momentum and its silent delight are embodied in nowhere but in the everyday routines and surroundings as is so depicted in the poems:

In spring days that come along a bit warm or cool,

Peach flowers bloom red and misty willows turn green,

The Zen delight arises in singing birds and dancing butterflies,

And the wisdom of prajna is just in front of your own eyes.

There are myriad flowers in spring and full moon in autumn;

There are cool breezes in summer and snowfalls in winter.

So long as you are freed from all cares and worries,

You enjoy every minute of human life in the four seasons.

As is observed from the above exposition, Zen Buddhism is a kind of life philosophy saturated with poetic wisdom. Regardless of any formal rites or rituals concerning dhyāna, an aesthetic contemplation of such landscapes as mountains and waters opens up a main entrance to spiritual revelation and Zen apprehension connected with prajñā pāramitā. This is sustained by the way of natural spontaneity as one of the principal paradigms on the one hand, and on the other hand, it is characterized by either gradual or sudden enlightenment in the process of Zen cultivation or practice. The ultimate purpose in this context is, as it were, to explore and pursue the realm of sūnyatā as absolute beauty and freedom. In order to facilitate such a perception and experience of highest prajñā pāramitā as wisdom in perfection, it requires at least an artistic vision and literary mind with emotionally and intellectually tinged percipience, in addition to a Zen heart and poetic sensibility with an insightful understanding of sūnyatā. The former can be looked upon as the primary potential for Zen nurturing, whereas the latter as the dharma-door to Zen Erlebnis. By means of the former, we can appreciate the beautiful and the picturesque in cosmic creations and changes; by means of the latter, we can feel ourselves the realm of sūnyatā in all natural scenes. We are thereby in a position to draw aesthetic pleasure from the act of appreciation, and attain spiritual freedom from the realm of sūnyatā. It is in this sense we may well conceive the message in what Wittgenstein asserts: Philosophy should produce more poem-like writings. Zen Buddhism is to my mind poetic philosophy, for it is concerned with the way of being and the quality of life at the same time. Anyone who is fond of such poetic philosophy and life wisdom alike is most likely to become more sensitive and percipient to the beautiful and the meaningful in the natural surroundings altogether, I believe.

Notes

[1].    This paper was partly presented at the IAA 17th  International Congress of Aesthetics held at Ankara in 2007 and fully published in the IAA Yearbook of Aesthetics, Vol. 11, 2007.

[2].    Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature, in Emerson: Essays, Tianjin: Tianjin Education Press, 2004, p.171.

[3].    Hong Yingming, Caigen tan 菜根谭（Tending the Roots of Wisdom）. The translation given here is mine. The readers can also see the English version provided by Paul White. It is cited here for reference: “In the course of your career, keep inured to the fact that you are in favour or out of favour with your superior; watch the flowers as they bloom and droop outside your door. Pay no heed to whether you remain in or are removed from office; calmly gaze at the clouds on the horizon, as they gather and disperse…. In utter repose, hearing the tune of waving pine branches, or the tinkling of a brook over pebbles on sense that these are the murmurings of Nature. With an undisturbed mind, gazing at the delicate wisps of smoke flickering on the horizon of the boundless prairie or the reflections of clouds in a still lake, one can perceive the exquisitely beautiful pattern of Nature.” Cf. Paul White (tr.), Tending the Roots of Wisdom, Beijing: New World Press, 2001, p.295, 289.

[4].    Arthur C. Danto, After the End of Art: Contemporary Art and the Pale of History, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997. Also see Stephen David Ross (ed.), Art and Its Significance, Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994, pp. 470-481.

[5].    Cf. Arthur C. Danto, “The Artworld,” in the Journal of Philosophy (1964), pp. 571-584. Also see his other writings, including The Transfiguration of the Commonplace, The Philosophical Disenfranchisement of Art, The State of the Art, and After the End of Art, etc.

[6].    Arthur C. Danto, “The Artworld,” in Stephen David Ross (ed.), Art and Its Significance, p. 477.

[7].    Ibid. According to a footnote given by Dabney Townsend, Danto identifies this passage elsewhere as coming from one of the more radical forms of Zen, the Diamond Sutra. See Dabney Townsend (ed.), Aesthetics: Classical Readings from Western Tradition, Wadsworth, 2001, p. 332. Actually, it comes from another source book instead of the Diamond Sutra, for its original version in Chinese, see Pu Ji (ed.), Wu deng hui yuan 五灯会元(A Collection of Ko-an in Zen Buddhism), Beijing: Zhonghua Shuju, 2002, Vol. 3, p. 1135.

[8].    Cf. Pu Ji (ed.), Wu deng hui yuan五灯会元 (A Collection of Ko-an in Zen Buddhism), p. 1135.

[9].    Arthur C. Danto, “The Artworld,” in Stephen David Ross (ed.), Art and Its Significance, p. 477.

[10].  Cf. Burton Wasten (tr.), The Lotus Sutra, New York: Columbia University Press, 1993, p. 14, etc. Another title that is frequently used for Buddha is “The World Honored One” (Shizun 世尊).

[11].  Cf. Fung Yu-lan, A Short History of Chinese Philosophy, in Fung Yulan, Selected Philosophical Writings of Fung Yu-lan, Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1991, p. 482.

[12].  Ibid., p. 217. It is translated by Arthur Waley.

[13].  Cf. Pu Ji (ed.), Wu deng hui yuna五灯会元 (A Collection of Ko-an in Zen Buddhism), p. 10. The translation is mine.

[14].  Huang Maolin (tr.), The Sutra of Hui Neng 坛经 (Changsha: Hunan Press, 1996), p. 13.

[15].  For this we can find some hint in The Sutra of Hui Neng regarding the practice and attainment of prajna. “When Mahayanists and the followers of the highest school hear about the Diamond Sutra 金刚经 (Vajracchedika), their minds become enlightened; they know that prajna is immanent in their Essence of Mind and that they need not rely on scriptural authority or logos (bu jia wen zi不假文字), since they can make use of their own wisdom by constant practice and contemplation and observation. The prajna immanent in the Essence of Mind of every one may be likened to a rainfall. Rain does not come from the sky but is produced by the miracle of the Naga. The moisture of which refreshes every living thing, trees and plants as well as sentient beings. When rivers and streams reach the sea, the water carried by them merges into on body. This is another analogy.” Cf. “On Prajna,” in The Sutra of Hui Neng, pp. 47-49.

[16].  Huang Maolin (tr.), The Sutra of Hui Neng, p. 19. The last two lines of this gatha are modified in accordance with its original Chinese version (ben lai wu yi wu, he chu ruo chen ai 本来无一物，何处惹尘埃). In Huang’s translation, the last two lines are rendered as such “Since all is void from the beginning/Where can the dust alight?”

[17].  Ibid., pp. 51-53.

[18].  Ibid., pp. 49-51.

[19].  Ibid., pp. 49-53.

[20].  Ibid., p. 51.

[21].  Ibid., pp. 39-41.

[22].  Ibid., pp. 91-93.

[23].  Ibid., p. 83.

[24].  The four directions (sida) here stand for east and west, south and north. They are often used to indicate the universe.

[25].  Cf. Li Zehou, “Chan yi ang ran” (The Meaning of Zen), in Zou wo ziji de lu 走我自己的路(Along My Own Path), Beijing: Sanlian Shudian, 1986, pp. 392-3. Also see Li Zehou, Zhongguo gudai sixiang shilun 中国古代思想史论 (Essays on Traditional Chinese Thoughts), Beijing: Renmin Chubanshe, 1985, pp. 207-210.

 

（作者惠寄。录入编辑：乾乾）