Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

CASE 2
Jôshû's Supreme Way

By Yamada Kôun

Instruction:
Heaven and earth are narrow; the sun, moon, and stars are suddenly dark. Were
blows of the staff to fall like raindrops and shouts to peal like thunder, still you would not
touch the point of the supreme teaching. Even the Buddhas of the three worlds can know it
only by themselves; even the patriarchs of the successive generations cannot present it fully.
Neither can the great treasury of all the sutras expound it adequately. Even the clearly
enlightened monk is helpless. When you are at this stage, what other instruction could you
expect? To say the word "Buddha" is to pour muddy water over yourself; to say the word
"Zen" is to shame your face. For advanced students who have been practicing for a long
time, it is unnecessary to say anything more. Recent beginners should investigate and
apprehend it right away.

Case:
Jôshû, instructing the assembly, said, "The supreme way is not difficult: it simply
dislikes choosing. If even a word is uttered, it is already an action of choosing or of clarity.
This old monk does not dwell in clarity. Do you monks want to keep a firm hold on it or
not?"
At that time there was a monk attending who asked, "You say that you do not dwell in
clarity. If so, what is there to keep a firm hold on?" Jôshû said, "I do not know, either."
The monk said, "If you say you do not know, why do you say that you do not dwell in clarity?"
Jôshû said, "You have already asked fully. Bow and withdraw."

Verse:
The supreme way is not difficult.
A little speech – that's it; a little word – that's it.
In one there are many kinds;
In two there are not two.
On the horizon the sun rises and the moon sets;
Beyond the balcony the mountains are deep, the waters cold.
1
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

Where the skull's consciousness comes to an end, how could joy come up?
The withered tree is giving a dragon's groan:
Though dead, it is still not dried up.
Difficult, difficult!
Choosing or clarity? See for yourself!

On the Instruction:
There are not very many patriarchs in Zen history to whom Master Dôgen bowed with
utmost sincerity. Jôshû, whom Master Dôgen extolled as "an old Buddha," was among the few,
along with the Sixth Patriarch Master Enô, Great Master Tôsan Gohon, Great Master Gensha
Shibi and others.
Jôshû attained great enlightenment at the age of 18, an experience known as haka
santaku [The house is torn down, the residence is smashed], under Master Nansen Fugan.
After that he remained as attendant to Master Nansen for forty years, until his master's death.
Then, at the age of 61, he finally started his pilgrimage [angya], visiting the great Zen masters
of his time (for example, Great Master Rinzai). This lasted 20 years. And around the age of
80 he settled down for the first time in a small temple named Kannon'in in a place called Jôshû
(hence his name). There he continued his unstinted efforts to save all living beings for 40 years,
until he passed away at the age of 120.
Bodhidharma, we are told, died at the age of 150. Recently it is not rare to hear about
a person who is more than 100 years old. How long can a human being live? One theory says
that any animal is potentially able to live eight times as long as the number of years needed to
mature. This means that, if a human being comes to mental and physical maturity at the age
of 25 (though we celebrate our "Coming of Age" Day at 20), he or she should be able to live up to
200. This might make an age of 120 not so astonishing. In reality our ordinary life is, alas,
much shorter. What is the best way to make this short life longer? To do zazen. You know
that many Zen masters have lived more than 90 years, even up to 100. Haku'un Roshi passed
away around 90; Harada Roshi about 94. Ashikaga Shisan Roshi was 104 years old. If you
wish to live long, therefore, do zazen!
Now back to Jôshû. When he started his angya around 60, he made a vow: "If I meet
a child of seven years who is superior to me, I am ready to learn from him. If I encounter a man
of 100 years who is inferior to me, I will give him instruction." Jôshû's world was so mature
that he did not shout out loud ("Kaatz!") or strike with a stick. He simply murmured a few
words, which, however, are said to have cast a sparkling light. This is why tradition speaks
about Jôshû's "mouth-and-lip Zen," of which the present case is an example. In fact, hitting
with a staff or shouting "Kaatz!" may not reveal such a deep dimension. The best way to judge
the depth of a Zen master might be a comparison with Shakyamuni. We do not hear that
Shakyamuni hit somebody with a stick or cried out "Kaatz!" Most probably he did not do such
2
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

things. Although the masters famous for such actions are great, we must know that greatness
is always comparative. I may receive severe criticism from the Rinzai sect, but I assume that
the dimension of Jôshû's self-realization excelled by far that of Rinzai's or Tokusan's.
Now the Instruction, which anticipates the Main Case: Heaven and earth are narrow.
"Heaven and earth" means the whole universe. Usually we consider the universe as endlessly
vast (although the conceptualization as "universe" suggests finitude). However, this universe
is called too "narrow" – compared to our essential nature, our true self, our true fact. This true
fact of ours appears in this Case as "The supreme way" or "The supreme way is not difficult."
The supreme way is nothing but our essential nature. Compared to this, even the vast
universe is laughably narrow.
The Sun, moon, and stars are suddenly dark. The sun, moon, and stars are all
shining objects. Among these the sun is the greatest, shining brightly and endowing us with
the necessary daylight. Nevertheless: however bright the sun may be, it is dark compared to
our true self, the true fact, the supreme way. If, for instance, we put a blind over the window,
even the brightest light cannot penetrate inside. Our essential nature is different: no matter
how black the darkness is around us, the very action of our perception – "Hey, it's dark in here"
– never gets darkened. Therefore, even the sun, moon, and stars, compared to the faculty of
our essential nature, become pitch black at once.
Were blows of the staff to fall like raindrops and shouts to peal like thunder, still you
would not hit the point of the supreme teaching. "Blows of the staff" imply the way of
teaching applied, for example, by the famous Zen Master Tokusan: when a student comes, the
master cries, "30 blows if you can say it, 30 blows if you can't say it!" and hits him immediately
regardless of the answer. These blows fall "like raindrops," which means that they assault you
as repeatedly and constantly as raindrops. "Shouts" mean the famous "Kaatz!", a trade mark
of Master Rinzai; it "peals" as horribly as "thunder." Yet even such surpassing masters "would
not hit the point of the supreme teaching." "The point of the supreme teaching" is nothing but
the world of satori. This phrase might give the impression that it is referring to a gradual
process of attaining enlightenment1, but that is not the case. It signifies our true fact. That is,
even for such great masters it is utterly impossible to reach our true fact.
Even the Buddhas of the three worlds can know it only by themselves. In the three
worlds of the past, present, and future, there have been (and there will be) many Buddhas, such
as Shakyamuni or Amida. However, in regard to the true fact, even these Buddhas can do
nothing except just nod to it, for they cannot explain it to anybody.
Even the patriarchs of the successive generations cannot present it fully. There
have been a number of prominent personalities, beginning with Mahakashyapa. But even such
great people cannot manifest it to the full. No matter how great the Zen understanding is, no
person can demonstrate our true fact, our true self in a convincing way.

1 Shushôhen: "standpoint of practice."

3
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

Neither can the great treasury of all sutras expound it adequately. Sutras are
commentaries, explanations of the true fact. Even the enormous collection of all the sutras
cannot explain it sufficiently. How many sutras do you imagine there are? It is said there are
4,580 different works! Somebody even counted the number of (Chinese) characters used in all
these books: 4,500,021,818! Isn't that incredible? But even all these sutras with all these
characters cannot comment upon the true fact sufficiently.
Even the clearly enlightened monk is helpless. Even a monk who has attained the
great enlightenment [daigo-tettei] can find no help in this regard. Being "helpless" means that
he has not yet found the real solution even for himself. To show it to others is all the more out
of the question. No matter how clear his eye is supposed to be, concerning this problem, he is
still no more than halfway.
When you are at this stage, how could you expect more instruction? That is, when
you face the problem of the true self, how on earth could you ask for more instruction?
To say the word "Buddha" is to be poured with muddy water. Even if you use the
word "Buddha" and try to explain what "Buddha nature" is, you are simply pouring the muddy
water of concepts and ideas all over your body. The real fact can never be presented in such
words. Making compound nouns with "Buddha," like "Buddha-body" or "Buddha-nature," can
only fill you up with dirt and filth.
To say the word "Zen" is shame all over your face. Even if you try to explain using
the word "Zen," you will end up with your face blushing crimson for shame.
For advanced students who have been practicing for a long time, it is unnecessary to
say anything more. If you have practiced sitting long enough, you should know what I mean
right away. To these people, no further remarks are necessary. But recent beginners should
investigate and apprehend it right away. Those who started zazen only recently, however,
should take a close look at the example which now follows. Thus the main Case is introduced.

On the Case:
Jôshû, instructing the assembly, said, "The supreme way is not difficult: it simply
dislikes choosing." The words Jôshû is quoting are actually those of the Third Patriarch, the
famous Great Master Sôsan, who wrote the Shinjinmei. Let me relate an anecdote about him.
Being severely ill he went one day to see the Second Patriarch, Great Master Eka. "Your
disciple is suffering from wind anxiety," he said. "Wind anxiety" is believed to mean what we
today call leprosy. In old times this disease was considered to be the result of heavy sins. So
Sôsan told the master that he had this illness because of his deep sins and asked the master to
cleanse him of his sins and make him whole. Then Great Master Eka said, "I feel sorry for you,
surely I will make you clean. To start with, bring me your sins so that I may cleanse you of
them." Now Sôsan, with all his effort, tried to take out his sins, but he could not. So he
reported to the master, "I have tried very hard to take hold of my sins and to take them out, but
4
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

I could not." Then the master answered, "I have finished cleaning your sins."2 What he meant
was: If you have understood that sins are intrinsically empty, then you are purified of all your
sins. It is said that Sôsan was cured of his disease then. (The believers of the "Seichô no ie"3
religion say that if you attain satori, you will be freed from all illness. This is not untrue or
impossible. There have been many instances of this since times of old.)
This master, Sôsan, composed the Shinjinmei. It is an excellent poem on kokoro
(heart-mind) and the oldest of the famous classical Zen poems such as the Sandôkai,
Hôkyôzanmai etc. And at the very beginning of this poem appears the line "The supreme way
is not difficult: it simply dislikes choosing." The supreme way means the highest truth.
Seen from the Buddhist point of view, it is nothing but our essential nature. This is said to be
"not difficult, it simply dislikes choosing." So, you should not be particular and selective,
insisting that you like this or you don't like that. If you stay as you are, you are the perfect
presentation of the supreme way itself. But if you start thinking in your head and get
fastidious about your liking and disliking, then you spoil the supreme way. At least this is the
outside meaning of the text; the inner significance will be made clear later.
By the way, the Old Shôju, the teacher of Master Hakuin, had a master whose name
was Master Shidô Bunan. "Shidô Bunan" means no other than "The supreme way is not
difficult"!
"If even a word is uttered, it is already an action of choosing or of clarity." "Clarity"
means the world of satori, the world of equality or of essence. "An action of choosing"
represents the world of discrimination, the world of phenomena. So if you utter one tiny word,
you are already in one of these two worlds – either in the phenomenal world or in the essential
world, either in delusion or in satori. You may think that the world of satori is by far the better
one.
But "this old mon4k does not dwell in clarity." Although he is evidently a man of
satori, he does not dwell in the world of equality, in satori.
"Do you monks want to keep a firm hold on it or not?" Although I am not in the
world of equality, in the realm of satori, I wonder if you, the disciples around me, want to hold
onto satori as something extremely important. – In this way, Jôshû is checking his disciples.
At that time there was a monk attending who asked, "You say that you do not dwell in
clarity. If so, what is there to keep a firm hold on?" Jôshû said, "I do not know either."
Now a monk appeared before Jôshû – or maybe he shouted his question from afar – saying, "You
say that you don't live in the world of satori, but if you don't dwell in satori, what in the world
could you hold onto? There's nothing to hold onto, is there?" He is starting an argument,
mixing up the two statements of Jôshû, that his disciples might be keeping a firm hold on satori
and that Jôshû himself is not staying in the world of satori. Then, Jôshû answers, "I do not

2 Cf. Case 30 of the Denkôroku.

3 A new religion in modern Japan.
4 Jôshû himself.
5
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

know either." How interesting! You see that the monk is using logic to trap him, but with this
"I don't know either," Jôshû, a truly perfected master, can sneak through any trap. Yet, the
monk, obstinate and cunning as he is, doesn't want to give up.
"If you say you do not know, why do you say that you do not dwell in clarity?" You
say that you don't know. But just now you said that you didn't live in the world of satori. How
could a man who knows nothing say such a thing? You said a minute ago that you were not in
satori, because you knew it! You know that you are not in the world of satori. Why on earth
do you maintain that you don't know? – Ordinary people would be driven into an impasse by
this rigorous logic, not knowing how to find an appropriate answer. But Jôshû remains superb.
He says, "You have already asked amply. Bow and withdraw." Is that all you have to ask?
Then you are through with your questions. Make a bow and go back to your seat. – Against
such a surpassing master like Jôshû, no trap works.
Here we must observe two things: First, we have to see through the evident fact of
"The supreme way is not difficult" [shidô bunan]. At the same time, we should savor Jôshû's
wonderful skill in handling his disciples. A truly enlightened person, a man of daigo-tettei, will
never be stalemated. Never.
Zen master Kaisen Shôki5 was killed in a fire when Erinji, the temple where he was
abbot, was burned down by Oda Nobunaga6. You may think that Kaisen must have been at his
wit's end at that moment, but by no means:
Zen of great peace does not necessarily require mountains and rivers;
When the activities of the heart are eliminated, even fire is cool.
Kaisen thus died a peaceful death. If your zazen practice reaches this level of perfection, you
will be able to act freely at any time, and will never fall into an impasse. The most common
pitfall for ordinary people is the moment of death. They don't know what to do when they are
facing death. But a truly outstanding person will never be troubled at that time; he or she can
even "play" with death. Such a person is able to face death with perfect composure. There
have been quite a few examples of this in the history of Zen. You must be like these people .
I once heard of a monk who, when he was about to die, summoned his disciples and
discussed the procedures of his funeral, giving detailed instructions: The funeral banquet
should not be too ostentatious, that point might as well be altered like this, that other point
should be done this way … (You would have thought he was talking about someone else's
funeral!) Another example is Yamamoto Gempô Roshi, master to Nakagawa Sôen Roshi.
Gempô Roshi seems to have thought one day: Now that I have chosen my successor, living any
longer would be nothing but a nuisance to everyone; it's time for me to make my exit. So he
started to eat less and less. Now if he had gone on in that way, his funeral would have fallen
sometime in March, the busiest month of the year for the temple. So the doctors and the chief
disciples consulted with each other and ventured to approach the roshi. Reverend Master, the

5 ? – 1582.
6 A famous warrior lord in Japan.
6
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

timing isn't very nice. Could you please make it a little later? "Oh, is that so?" said the roshi,
and started to eat normally again. So he lived a little longer than scheduled … How
composed he was in the face of death! He almost fooled with death. This is a fine example
how a man of perfected practice can manage any problem in life, without being stalemated at all.

On the Verse:
The supreme way is not difficult. Why isn't it difficult? Because if you are hungry,
you just eat; if you have some business to do, you get up and do it. It would be difficult if you
insisted on sitting when you have some urgent business to do. But standing up to do something
– there is nothing difficult about that. When your business is over, you may sit down again. If
you are tired, you simply lie down. But usually people think that the "supreme way" is
something more than that. They think the truth comes out of their brainwork. However,
what comes out of their brain is not truth, but simply an idea, a concept of the truth. The real
"supreme way" means standing up, lying down, talking, listening, eating, sleeping; outside of
our concrete actions in our daily life, there is no "supreme way." Philosophy makes a grave
mistake in assuming that the truth is always something extremely difficult, something
incomprehensible for ordinary people. Thus, no philosopher can grasp the real truth.
Philosophers are simply circling around the truth; they may come closer and closer to it, but
they can't grasp it directly.
You may have heard of the famous Japanese philosopher, Prof. Nishida Kitarô7. He
lived in Kamakura following his retirement from Kyoto University. Nishida wrote a series of
articles called "Kamakura Zakki" [Kamakura Jottings] for a magazine. I read them shortly
after my graduation from the university. There he wrote: "Seeing the phrase 'Everyday is a
good day' of Master Unmon, I felt as if my whole life had been driven to the wall." "Every day is
a good day" is a famous koan8. "Being driven to the wall" means that the fighting is up; you are
at the mercy of your opponent. Observe well how Prof. Nishida, a man with a great aptitude for
logical thinking (a rare talent among Japanese!), found himself, at the end of a life-long difficult
process of philosophical thinking, driven to a dead end by that single phrase of Master Unmon:
"Every day is a good day." I at that time was reading philosophical books intensively at that
time. But I had to realize very clearly how powerless, useless philosophy is. Even Prof.
Nishida, in his late years following his retirement, had to make such a miserable confession,
revealing the total powerlessness of philosophy!
Once again: "The supreme way" doesn't exist in our brain; it's our everyday actions.
There's nothing difficult about it.
A little speech – that's it; a little word – that's it. The phrase "It (the supreme way)
dislikes choosing" is usually understood as a warning: "Don't be particular and selective." In

7 1870-1945.
8 Cf. Case 6 of the Hekiganroku.
7
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

fact, if we say, "Here comes a man I don't like," or "What terrible weather!", this seems to be an
action of "choosing," at least in the ordinary sense of the word. At that moment, we evidently
dislike someone or something. However, in the very utterance "What terrible weather," there
isn't a bit of choosing. When you feel "terrible," where is any room for choosing? The opposite
case would be that you find someone or something "nice." "How nice!" – this is a fact. In the
fact of this utterance there isn't a trace of choosing. "A little speech," "a little word" – that's the
presentation of our true nature, the manifestation of the fact "The supreme way is not difficult."
Whether we love it or hate it, the phrase itself – "I love …" or "I hate …" – is in itself the
"supreme way" which is "not difficult," namely the perfect expression of our essence.
The next line develops the theme of our essential nature: In one there are many
kinds; in two there not two. Very interesting words. In short, they mean: "Form 9 is
emptiness itself, emptiness is form itself (although you may not see the identity right away).
It's nothing but our essential nature that stands up, sits down, cries or laughs. If you observe
these individual phenomena (standing up, sitting down, crying, laughing), "there are many
kinds." But the essential nature is always one, as defined in the Hannya-shingyô: "Form is
emptiness itself." In other words, equality is the same as discrimination. "In two there are
not two." The first "two" can be "three" or "five"; this simply represents the variety of the
phenomenal world. In this "two," "there are not two," that is, there's always just "one."
Although many things appear in the phenomenal world, intrinsically they are all one and the
same. It expresses the world of our essence, the world of the true fact.
On the horizon the sun rises and the moon sets. When day dawns, the moon fades
away behind the far mountains. This is it: the perfect presentation of the "supreme way," of
the true fact. There is no "liking" or "disliking" here. The sun simply comes up, and the moon
simply goes down.
Beyond the balcony the mountains are deep, the waters cold. The author is
probably deep in the mountains. Standing on the balcony he sees water below. Perhaps it is a
river or an artificially dug pond. From autumn through winter, the water becomes clear and
transparent. And how chilly it looks! – What is this all about? Once again, the perfect
manifestation of the "supreme way," of the true fact. It is also called genjô kôan. The "kôan"
in this phrase means – different from the ordinary meaning – the world of equality, the world of
essence, whereas "genjô" refers to the world of phenomena. "On the horizon the sun rises and
the moon sets; beyond the balcony the mountains are deep, the waters cold" – all this is a
description of the landscape in front of your eyes. Nevertheless, it is at the same time the
presentation of the "kôan," of the essential world.
Where the skull's consciousness comes to an end, how could joy come up? This
phrase is problematic. The "skull" is of course dead, has no consciousness. So there are no
such feelings as joy or sadness in it. At least, that is the literal meaning of the sentence.

9 The original word shiki means that which has form and color, namely all phenomena.
8
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

Quite a few people interpret this as the expression of the "great death" [daishi-ichiban]: You go
on practicing until there is no movement of consciousness whatsoever. It is a state of mind
akin to death. (By the way, this is the stage you must reach before attaining kensho: You
keep Mu-ing until you lose any consciousness of yourself and become perfectly one with Mu.
This is the "moment of the great death," which, however, is not satori itself. To attain true
satori, you must come right back to this side – the process called the "great revival"
[daikatsu-genjô] 10 ). However, this is not my interpretation of the sentence; that will be
presented later on.
The withered tree is giving a dragon's groan. When the winter wind blows through a
withered tree, the tree pipes. It gives a living sound. The dead still speaks in a living voice.
Though extinguished, it is still not dried up. Even when it is completely dead, life still
flows, the blood is not yet dried up. Completely withered, and yet there is still some moisture
left. Some life is still there.
Now this line ("The withered tree is ･･･") is usually understood as an expression of the
"great revival" [daikatsu-genjô, cf. above] after the "great death" [daishi-ichiban] , which is
supposed to be expressed in the previous line ("Where the skull's consciousness comes to an
end ･･･"). However, my view is somewhat different from this. I would like to see the sentence
"Where the skull's consciousness comes to an end" solely from the viewpoint of the essential
world: It is the same as the origin of Mu, the origin of our true existence. Nothing stirs there,
therefore, "the skull's consciousness has come to an end." There exists no trace of either joy or
sadness. There is no "I hate" or "I'm happy." There are absolutely no feelings at all. If you
are still having your feelings, such as "I hate it" or "I don't like him," you are not at the most
authentic level. "It simply dislikes choosing" – well said, but in reality it is not possible to
choose at all. There is namely no choosing! Only the fact exists. Uttering a word, becoming
glad or sad, hating or loving – though all these are, seen from an ordinary viewpoint, actions of
"choosing," yet the very fact of uttering a word or becoming glad or hating someone transcends
all your feelings. Therefore: "How could joy come up?" As for the next line ("The withered
tree is giving a dragon's groan; though extinguished, it is still not dried up."), someone
commented that it is the same as "Light in darkness, darkness in light" [meian sôsô no jisetsu],
and I completely agree. "The withered tree" should be interpreted as the withered world of
essence, the world of black darkness. Nevertheless, when the wind blows, the withered tree
gives a sound, a sound of life. Seen from one side, there is nothing, since it is all withered out.
Seen from the other side, there is still life, giving voices and sounds. Observed from the
essential world, it is nothing but a withered tree. Yet it is actually living in the phenomenal
world. Therefore, it is "light in darkness, darkness in light." In other words, "Form is
emptiness, emptiness is form."
Difficult, difficult! It is easy to say "The supreme way is not difficult," but to actually

10 Literally: great living, immediate fulfillment.

9
 Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record) 2

reach this point is not at all an easy task. Difficult, difficult!

Choosing or clarity? See for yourself! There is no use preaching on and on. The
essential world can only be savored personally. So please savor it by yourself. This puts an
end to my own preaching. "Choosing or clarity? See for yourself!"

10