Volume 2: The Path That Can Be Told, Chapter 137: Demoting the Golden Cicada

One may ponder the mysteries of Zen, seeking endlessly, only to end up aging in vain. Grinding bricks into mirrors, piling snow as food—how many years has been wasted in delusion? Swallowing the ocean in one gulp, containing Mount Sumeru within a tiny space—yet the golden head must guard against even a smile. When enlightenment is attained, one transcends the ten realms and the three vehicles; yet stagnation lingers through four lives and six realms. Who can hear the cry of the cuckoo beneath the shadeless tree at the cliff of utter thoughtlessness, heralding the dawn of spring? The path to Caoxi is perilous, the clouds over Jiling deep—yet here, voices of old friends resound. A thousand-foot ice cliff, with a lotus blooming among five petals; ancient halls with hanging curtains and wafting incense. At that time, when one sees through the origins, the Three Treasures of the Dragon King become visible.

This poem, “Su Wu Man,” is meant to urge people to focus their minds and devote themselves wholeheartedly to Buddhism.
It is said that Buddhism establishes layers of Zen challenges and topics for contemplation to guide those destined to find it. Yet the essence of Zen is so profound that it cannot be grasped merely through contemplation, leading ultimately to vain effort. In the final lines, while everyone knows the Dragon King possesses treasures, they do not know what they are—here, the Three Treasures are explicitly mentioned. The Three Treasures of Buddhism are the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. It is said that Bodhisattva Nagarjuna once entered the Dragon Palace to retrieve the Avatamsaka Sutra and expound upon its profound teachings, hence this line speaks of achieving perfection.

Look at Xiniuhexiu—on the summit of Ling Mountain, the Great Thunder Sound Temple differs greatly from the celestial realms; every place there is a scene of ultimate bliss.
Consider this mountain: its peak touches the heavens, its roots connected to the veins of Mount Sumeru. Skillfully arranged peaks, bizarre rocks scattered about. Below the cliffs grow rare herbs and flowers; along winding paths grow purple ganoderma and fragrant orchids. Immortal monkeys pick fruits in the peach groves, their colors like burning gold; white cranes stand on pine branches, resembling smoke holding jade. Pairs of colorful phoenixes and blue qilins appear—pairs of colorful phoenixes sing toward the sun, bringing good fortune to the world; pairs of blue qilins dance in the wind, a rare sight in the world.

Now look at this temple: golden tiles in yellow hues form mandarin duck patterns, while bright flowered bricks cover the ground like agate. In rows to the east and west, there are countless palaces and towers; in the south and north, countless precious halls and buildings. The Hall of the Heavenly Kings emits rosy light, while before the Hall of Protectors, purple flames burst forth. The stupa towers rise, and the fragrance of marigolds fills the air—truly a place where earth surpasses heaven, and calm clouds make days seem longer. Free from worldly distractions, all conditions are fulfilled; the great Dharma hall remains intact through endless eons.

On this day, radiant light shone over Ling Mountain, and the Great Thunder Sound Temple was filled with auspicious energy. In the Mahavira Hall, the monastery was solemn and orderly, and on the Dharma platform, a nine-tiered lotus platform glowed brightly. The nine-tiered lotus platform is the one in which those who are reborn in utopia are born.

A clear, resonant sound arose—it was the two arhats who subdue dragons and tigers striking the cloud chimes. The five hundred arhats, eight hundred bhikshus, venerable monks, and disciples of the monastery sat and stood in various postures according to their spiritual roles, their faces filled with reverence.

Below, a monk with a majestic appearance slowly ascended the nine-tiered lotus platform—was it not the Buddha, the supreme ruler of the world? Today, the Buddha stood on the Dharma platform to impart the profound teachings of Buddhism.

The Buddha sat on the lotus platform, silent, with his eyes lowered. Those below trembled in awe, waiting for the Buddha to speak.

Suddenly, the Tathagata picked up a golden kapok flower with his right hand, and a faint smile appeared on his solemn face. The Vajra Arhat, the venerable monks, and the Buddhist community were all puzzled—some bowed their heads in thought, some exchanged glances, while others looked stunned.

What did the Buddha’s gesture of picking a flower and smiling mean? The Tathagata knew well that this Zen riddle seemed simple but actually reflected the principle of utmost simplicity. Among those present, aside from his second disciple, Jin Chanzi, few could grasp its meaning. As everyone struggled to figure it out, a man stepped forward from below the steps—it was the Tathagata’s second disciple, Jin Chanzi. Everyone thought he would explain the meaning, but instead, he raised his hand to signal the Buddha to put down the flower, then let out a cold laugh before turning and walking away. This shocking action drew all eyes to Jin Chanzi.

With a resolute gaze, Jin Chanzi stepped forward, ignoring the stares of those around him. At that moment, the Tathagata put down the golden kapok flower and asked, “Jin Chanzi, where are you going?” Jin Chanzi still didn’t turn around and replied, “Where I came from, there I go.” The Tathagata frowned slightly. Jin Chanzi was different from the others; they shared a deep connection spanning many lifetimes, and he couldn’t just leave. So the Tathagata said, “If you can understand the meaning behind my gesture, then you may go.”

Jin Chanzi turned to face the Tathagata directly and said, “I already understood it earlier.” Remembering his cold laugh earlier, everyone naturally didn’t grasp its meaning. But Jin Chanzi was renowned for his profound mastery of Buddhist teachings on Mount Ling, so they were skeptical—could that cold laugh also hold deeper significance? The Tathagata smiled and said, “Then explain it to us.” Without hesitation, Jin Chanzi said, “The Buddha picked up a flower and smiled, aiming to convey to us a state of peace, tranquility, and beauty. This state is free from defilement, open-minded, free from greed, calm, transcendent, and eternal—it is the highest realm of formless nirvana. Is that correct?”

The Tathagata nodded slightly, thinking, “What a remarkable Jin Chanzi—he revealed the truth in just a few words.” He replied, “You’re right.” Hearing the Buddha’s praise, everyone was astonished and further admired Jin Chanzi’s mastery of Buddhism. The Tathagata then asked, “But what was the meaning of your cold laugh?” His tone held a hint of expectation, hoping Jin Chanzi would invent an even deeper meaning for that smile, thereby highlighting his own unfathomable wisdom.

Jin Chanzi replied, “You treated me with a smile, so I treated you with a smile—nothing simpler than that. Why ask again?” These words surprised everyone greatly. He didn’t even address the Buddha as “Buddha,” using only “you” instead.

Although the people present were not as proficient in the profound teachings of Buddhism as Jin Chanzi, a few of them reacted quickly. Suddenly, Kasyapa shouted, “How arrogant! How dare you disregard the proper relationship between master and disciple?”

To be precise, Kasyapa was Jin Chanzi’s senior brother. Jin Chanzi had always been independent in his ways yet was favored by the Buddha. He had long harbored jealousy, and now was the perfect moment to speak up.

Jin Chanzi replied calmly, “Master? Disciple? As you say, what exactly is a master and what is a disciple? If I take someone as my master, who will I take as my master after they attain nirvana? Absurd!”

Kasyapa was speechless. Nearby, Ananda saw the Tathagata gently close his eyes. Knowing well the Tathagata’s nature, he realized the Buddha was already displeased. He then chanted a Buddhist mantra and said, “Jin Chanzi, haven’t you heard, ‘Above heaven and earth, none is like the Buddha; in all ten directions, none compares. All beings in the world are within my sight; none is like the Buddha’? Formless, empty, and yet not empty—this is the true nature of the Tathagata. You only focus on the physical appearance, ignoring the essence, and thus become a laughingstock to everyone.”

Jin Chanzi laughed heartily and said, “If there is no form, how can there be the act of picking up a flower and smiling? If there is no emptiness, how can there be the concept of ‘not emptiness’? In the end, your arguments are self-contradictory! Who can tell me what, exactly, is the goal of practicing Buddhism?”

Kasyapa sneered and said, “All these years of your practice have been in vain. Practicing Buddhism actually means cultivating oneself!”

Jin Chanzi said, “Well said! But what happens in the end?”

Kasyapa replied dismissively, “Naturally, one becomes a Buddha!”

Jin Chanzi pressed further, “Which is greater, the Buddha or you?”

Kasyapa was stunned. If he said the Buddha was greater, it would contradict the principle of “equality among all beings.” If he said they were equal… that didn’t make sense either. After pondering for a moment, he reluctantly said, “The Buddha says ‘all beings are equal’—how can there be a distinction of greatness?”

Jin Chanzi said, “If all beings are already equal, then why strive to become a Buddha?” Without waiting for Kasyapa’s reply, he pointed at the nine-tiered lotus platform beneath the Tathagata and said, “This lotus platform is divided into nine ranks. There are upper, middle, and lower ranks, each further divided into upper, middle, and lower levels. It starts from the highest rank and ends at the lowest. If all beings are equal, why are there these nine ranks? Why?”

Jin Chanzi glanced around and saw no one could answer. He continued, “If all beings are equal, why is the lotus placed right beneath the Tathagata’s buttocks?”

At these words, the Great Hero Hall was filled with shock, as if the sky had collapsed. If the earlier exchanges with Kasyapa and Ananda could still be considered Zen wit, this was outright disrespect toward the Buddha. Was Jin Chanzi insane?

Everyone stole glances at the Tathagata, only to see him still sitting calmly with closed eyes, as if none of this affected him. They felt ashamed, realizing their own cultivation was still shallow, and their minds and emotions were easily disturbed.

Jin Chanzi raised his fingers a little higher, now pointing at Tathagata, and said, “In this life, you are my teacher. But who knows if in a past life I was not your ancestor? In the cycle of reincarnation, who can truly deceive whom?” Yet again, words that shook the heavens and the earth!

Tathagata appeared calm, but in truth his heart was tumultuous. Though he seemed to be in meditation and motionless, he had been waiting the whole time. After hearing Jin Chanzi’s last words, Tathagata sighed inwardly—he had finally found out.

Then Tathagata slightly opened his eyes and slowly said, “My disciple, seeing your keen intelligence, I showed you the secret scriptures first. Yet you became so obsessed that you fell into delusion. Alas, it was my fault as a teacher.”

As soon as Tathagata spoke, Jin Chanzi, though full of words, seemed to be blocked and couldn’t utter a single word, not even move.

Tathagata continued, “Though I am a Buddha, I also know my own limitations. I don’t care what you say. But you have disrespected my great teachings—a crime that cannot be forgiven.” His fingers moved imperceptibly a few times, then he added, “I will now demote your true spirit and force you to be reborn in the Eastern Land. If you devote yourself to Buddhism, we, as teacher and disciple, may still meet again.”

These words of Tathagata concealed a profound Buddhist technique—the Infinite Power Roar. Each word was pronounced with such force that it made the Great Hero Hall shake. The people in the hall unconsciously bowed in awe at the Buddha’s power. Seeing Jin Chanzi standing there, trembling, they all thought it was a pity—such a talented person, ruined by his obsession with the scriptures despite the Buddha’s efforts to nurture him.

Tathagata waved his hand, and Jin Chanzi vanished into thin air.

With a melancholic expression, Tathagata sighed, “Those who cannot navigate the waves should not enter them. Arrogance truly leads people astray. You should take this as a lesson and avoid following Jin Chanzi’s path.”

The people in the Great Hero Hall joined their hands and chanted loudly, “Our Buddha is merciful!” Their voices, sincere and heartfelt, were no less powerful than Tathagata’s Infinite Power Roar.

Thus, Tathagata began to teach, using the incident with Jin Chanzi as a lesson to advise his followers not to rush in their pursuit of Buddhist practice. He said, “The mind of sentient beings and the mind of Tathagata are one and the same. The ordinary mind is the mind of non-discrimination, clarity, enlightenment, and bodhicitta. Once it is tainted by worldly impurities, it becomes the mind of attachment, discrimination, right and wrong, and the mind of sentient beings… In enlightenment, it is the ordinary mind; in delusion, it is the mind of sentient beings. This is a matter of perspective—different people see it differently. Just as white jade covered in dust or a mirror stained with dirt remains intact, the ordinary mind is the same. When delusions dissipate, the true mind appears; when arrogance ceases, enlightenment is achieved. Thousands of lifetimes in delusion can be resolved in an instant. A thousand years of darkness can be illuminated by a single lamp…”