Verses of Silent Illumination Hongzhi Zh

BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 171
Verses of Silent Illumination:
Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen
Christopher BYRNE
Christopher BYRNE obtained his Ph.D. from the Dept. of East Asian Studies
at McGill University and is formerly the Bader Postdoctoral Fellow in Chinese
Religions within the School of Religion at Queen’s University. His research focuses
on the ways Chinese Zen monks adapted the genres and techniques of Chinese
poetry for religious purposes during the Song dynasty, especially as a means to
express the ineffable insights of Zen. His research interests include Zen philosophy
and literature, Chinese poetics, and the poetry of Buddhist laywomen. He teaches in
the Humanities department at Dawson College.
Email: christopher.byrne@mail.mcgill.ca
International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture Vol. 29. No.2 (December 2019): 171–205
Ⓒ 2019 Academy of Buddhist Studies, Dongguk University, Korea
https://doi.org/10.16893/IJBTC.2019.06.29.2.171
The day of submission: 2019.10.05.
Completion of review: 2019.11.25.
Final decision for acceptance: 2019.12.17.
172 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
Abstract
Zen master Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091–1157) is best known for bringing the Caodong
lineage to prominence during the Song dynasty and for coining the phrase “silent
illumination” (mozhao) which came to define Caodong meditative practice. Hongzhi
was anything but silent, however, in his promotion of the insights of wordless
meditation and produced one of the most extensive recorded sayings (yulu) in the Song,
whose poetic content far exceeds any other yulu of the period. In this article, I argue that
poetic composition is a central component of Hongzhi’s Zen practice and a privileged
means for asserting a distinct Caodong identity. Rather than constituting a rejection
of words and letters, the principle of silence transforms the character of Hongzhi’s poetic
compositions in a manner that characterizes his Caodong practice. Hongzhi primarily
promotes and articulates his vision of silent meditation through poetic means, including
his famous “Inscription of Silent Illumination” (Mozhao ming), as well as the images
of the “withered tree” and “cold ashes” associated with the Caodong meditative ideal of
absolute silence. Furthermore, when these texts and images are analyzed in their poetic
contexts, “silent illumination” appears to be far more dynamic than usually conceived,
thus, accounting for an active component that encompasses the vital role of words and
letters. In this manner, Hongzhi depicts a vision of Caodong practice that synthesizes
wordless meditation with poetic composition as two complementary sides of a single
mode of religious cultivation. Furthermore, this paradoxical synthesis corresponds to the
identification of the ultimate and conventional truths within Caodong Zen philosophy.
In sum, contrary to the predominant perception of Caodong practice as simply identified
with absolute silence, for Hongzhi, an active and dynamic engagement with poetic
composition more accurately characterizes how he imagined the lineage’s teachings.
Key words:Hongzhi Zhengjue, Zen poetry, Caodong lineage, silent illumination (mozhao),
Song dynasty
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 173
In the late eleventh century, the Caodong 曹洞 lineage suddenly emerged from
near extinction to eventually become one of the most influential lineages of
Zen (Ch. Chan; Kor. Sŏn) in both China and Japan. The lineage, putatively
founded in the Tang by master Dongshan Liangjie 洞山良价 (807–869) and his
disciple Caoshan Benji 曹山本寂 (840–901), gradually withered away during the
Northern Song (960–1127) until only a single living Caodong monk remained.
As previously illustrated by Morten Schlütter, this situation changed course
through the work of Touzi Yiqing 投子義青 (1032–1083), who, despite training
as a Linji monk, began to promote the Caodong school and place distinctive
emphasis on attaining a profound state of silence and stillness within sitting
meditation that became the hallmark of the lineage. Further generations of
Caodong monks, including Furong Daokai 芙容道楷 (1043–1118), Danxia
Zichun 丹霞子淳 (1066–1119), and Zhenxie Qingliao 真歇清了 (1090–1151),
continued Touzi’s efforts, gaining the support of influential literati and Zen
monks.1 Yet, it was Hongzhi Zhengjue 宏智正覺 (1091–1157) who brought
prominence to the lineage and secured its place in Zen history. Caodong
meditation became defined by Hongzhi’s term “silent illumination” (mozhao
默照), in contrast to the “investigating the phrase” (kanhua 看話) practice of the
Linji school, promoted by Hongzhi’s esteemed rival Dahui Zonggao 大慧宗杲
(1089–1163).2 Whereas Hongzhi and other Caodong masters advocated
the necessity of discarding language within the total silence of meditative
absorption, Dahui vehemently criticized Caodong methods and instead
instructed practitioners to use a single word or phrase from a Zen kōan (Ch.
gong’an 公案) as the focus of meditation.
Despite Dahui’s criticism of Caodong’s quietism, Hongzhi Zhengjue was
anything but silent in his promotion of wordless meditation and produced one
of the most extensive recorded sayings (yulu 語錄) in the Song.3 What is striking
about Hongzhi’s yulu is the tremendous amount of poetry collected within it.4
Even though poetry is a constant feature within the yulu collections of Song
monks, Hongzhi’s more than one thousand verses far outnumber any other
yulu in the Song. These verses are additionally remarkable because, despite his
vast literary output, silence persistently and paradoxically remains a central
theme and image within his poetry. In this essay, I argue that rather than
constituting a rejection of words and letters, the principles of silence and silent
meditation inform and transform the character of Hongzhi’s poetry. Moreover,
Honghzi utilized poetic practices developed by his predecessors to craft a
174 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
vision of Zen as embracing silent meditation and poetic composition as the
core of the tradition. Poetry is, thus, not only integral to Hongzhi’s imagining
of Zen practice and doctrine but serves as a favored medium for endorsing the
superiority of his lineage and crafting a distinct Caodong identity.
In order to illustrate the centrality of poetry in Hongzhi’s vision of
Caodong Zen, I first analyze his most famous composition, the “Inscription
of Silent Illumination” (Mozhao ming 默照銘), as a poetic and philosophical text,
which offers a bold and authoritative statement on the superiority of Caodong
doctrine and practice. At the same time that the inscription demonstrates
Hongzhi’s unequivocal commitment to silence, as a literary work it presents
key insights into the function of poetic language in conveying the ultimate
principles of Zen. Second, through the analysis of Hongzhi’s portrait encomia
inscribed on his own image, I demonstrate that he continued to emphasize
his commitment to absolute silence and its poetic expression throughout his
later monastic career. Third, I examine the poetic significance of a series of
Caodong metaphors for meditative absorption, such as the “withered tree”
and “cold ashes,” which were often targets of Dahui’s criticisms and which
have been previously identified by Morten Schlütter as evidence of the
Caodong promotion of a meditative practice of total stillness and silence.
Analyzed within their poetic contexts, however, these images go beyond the
simple denotation of quietism to illustrate the paradoxical fusion of stillness
and activity, thus reflecting the non-duality of Zen philosophy, which I draw
upon to provide an original explanation of how “silent illumination” works as
a meditative practice and how it is more dynamic than commonly perceived.
In conclusion, I argue that the dialectical fusion of the absolute (zheng 正)
and relative (pian 偏) within the Caodong doctrine of the Five Ranks offers
a philosophical paradigm in which the seemingly divergent practices of
silent meditation and poetic composition, as equally promoted by Hongzhi,
constitute a single process of religious cultivation. In sum, contrary to the
dominant perception of the Caodong lineage as being strictly associated with
the absolute silence of meditation, I argue that poetic practices were central
to Hongzhi’s imagining of the lineage’s distinctiveness. On the other side of
“silent illumination” as a wordless meditative absorption, there is a dynamic
engagement with poetic language which more accurately defines Hongzhi’s
conception of the lineage’s practice and teachings.
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 175
Engraving Silence: The “Inscription of Silent Illumination”
From the time of its composition, Hongzhi’s “Inscription of Silent
Illumination” has defined the Caodong lineage. It stands as an authoritative
statement on Zen written early in Hongzhi’s career in which the master
dictates the necessity of abandoning language and discriminating thinking
in order to reveal the true nature of the mind. It is thus a key source for
understanding Hongzhi’s dedication to silent, non-discriminating awareness
and the paradoxical effectiveness of poetry as a vehicle for expressing its
ineffable insights. The verse and its themes resonate with other lengthy
inscriptions (ming 銘) and songs (ge 歌) which became distinguished as a
major source of Zen doctrine by masters who were otherwise reluctant to
explicate Buddhist matters in expository writings. Although Zen literature
generally avoids doctrinal elaboration in favor of anecdote and dialogue, many
inscriptions and songs attributed to legendary Zen masters of the Tang dynasty
have offered explicit doctrinal instructions on the supremacy of mind and the
inadequacy of language, including such seminal works as the “Inscription on
Faith in Mind” (Xinxin ming 信心銘) or the “Merging of Difference and Unity”
(Cantong qi 參同契). Along with the correspondence in theme between these
key doctrinal statements and Caodong practice, lineage founder Dongshan
Liangjie is credited with composing a number of lengthy doctrinal verses, the
most famous being the “Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi” (Baojing sanmei
ge 寳鏡三昧歌), whose imagery Hongzhi frequently alludes to.5 Dongshan’s verse
promotes the practice of calming meditation, or samādhi, in order to realize
the shining jewel of the mind, which, like a clear mirror, reflects all before it.
Although it is very unlikely that Dongshan actually composed this verse, its
attribution to him nevertheless strengthens the image of Caodong masters as
being simultaneously adept at silent insight and literary composition, and his
“Song of the Jeweled Mirror Samādhi” and other verses are seen as a source of
both Caodong doctrine and poetic expression, as noted below.
Not only did Hongzhi follow the Zen tradition of poetic exposition,
his choice of the vehicle of inscription is essential for understanding the
significance of his versified statement on Zen doctrine. Inscriptions are formal
verses in strict four-character rhymed couplets written to be engraved on solid
matter, giving them a sense of gravity and importance. The generic form, thus,
indicates that the “Inscription of Silent Illumination” was intended to be read
176 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
as a major doctrinal statement, and indeed it assumed this stature since its
inception. Above all, it prompted a surge of scathing criticism from Hongzhi’s
Linji lineage rival Dahui who began to disparage the “silent illumination”
model of practice in the years following its publication.6 In fact, the association
of “silent illumination” with the Caodong lineage appears to have initially
derived from Dahui’s criticism rather than Hongzhi’s promotion of the idea, as
Hongzhi rarely used the term in his later writings.7
From its opening words, the “Inscription of Silent Illumination” stresses the
profound, ineffable silence necessary for illuminating the true nature of the self,
and the verse unequivocally states that the path of silent illumination is the
supreme method of Zen. Nevertheless, it is by the means of poetic language
that the supremacy of silent illumination is effectively communicated. Within
the seventy-two-line inscription, Hongzhi encapsulates the wondrous qualities
of silent illumination through a terse and tightly structured poetic framework,
effectively blending formal Buddhist terminology with poetic imagery, literary
allusion, and analogy:
In total silence, words forgotten—
bright and clear right before you.
When reflected in its vastness,
4 your bodily form awakens.
默默忘言
Awakened, you shine alone,
returning to the miraculous within illumination—
the misty moon in the river of stars,
8 snowy pines on a cloud-covered peak.
靈然獨照
昭昭現前
鑒時廓爾
體處靈然
照中還妙
露月星河
雪松雲嶠
The darker it is, the brighter it gets;
the more it’s hidden, the more it’s exposed.
The crane dreams in the cold mist—
12 the river embracing the distant autumn.
晦而彌明
In the emptiness of limitless time,
all things mirror one another.
The miraculous dwelling within silence;
16 Attainment forgotten within illumination.
浩劫空空
隱而愈顯
鶴夢煙寒
水含秋遠
相與雷同
妙存默處
功忘照中
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 177
Where does the miraculous exist?
In dispelling delusion, alert and clear.
The way of silent illumination
20 is the root of subtle transcendence.8
妙存何存
Penetrate the subtle transcendence
of the jade loom’s golden shuttle:
the absolute and relative woven together,
24 illumination and darkness, mutually entwined.
徹見離微
Relying on the non-existence of subject and object,
at the fundamental moment, one turns into the other.
Drink in this virtue, behold its medicine,
28 and strike the poison-covered drum!9
依無能所
惺惺破昏
默照之道
離微之根
金梭玉機
正偏宛轉
明暗因依
底時回互
飲善見藥
檛塗毒鼓
Turning into one another at the fundamental moment,
life and death lie within the self.
A body is born within the gates,
32 and the branches bear fruit.
回互底時
Only silence is the supreme speech,
Only illumination is the universal response—
Responding without attainment,
36 Speaking without being heard.
默唯至言
The ten thousand things entwined together,
luminously expound the dharma.
One after another authenticates it;
40 Each by each calls and answers.
萬象森羅
Calling and answering with clear authentication,
perfectly responding to one another.
When there is no silence within illumination,
44 anger and aggression arise.
問答證明
With clear authentication, calling and answering,
證明問答
殺活在我
門裡出身
枝頭結果
照唯普應
應不墮功
言不涉聽
放光說法
彼彼證明
各各問答
恰恰相應
照中失默
便見侵凌
178 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
responding to one another perfectly.
When there is no illumination within silence,
48 confusion leads one astray.
相應恰恰
The principle of silent illumination is totally complete—
The blooming lotus awakens within a dream,
One hundred rivers returning to the sea,
52 One thousand peaks facing the summit.
默照理圓
Like a swan extracting milk,10
Like bees gathering nectar,
Silent illumination is the ultimate attainment
56 transmitted by our tradition.
如鵝擇乳
Our school’s silent illumination
ascends to the peaks and plunges to the depths.
Śūnyatā is its body,
60 Mudrā is its arm.
宗家默照
From beginning to end, this one path
transforms endless distinctions.
Master Ho presents an unpolished stone;
64 Xiangru points out the jewel’s flaws.11
始終一揆
Within the world of change, there is a principle
whose great work is effortless.
The Son of Heaven within the empire;
68 His generals beyond the frontier.
當機有準
The fundamental matter of our school
accords with monastic rules and regulations.
Transmit it across the various regions,
72 and it will not deceive.12
默中失照
渾成剩法
蓮開夢覺
百川赴海
千峯向岳
如蜂採花
默照至得
輸我宗家
透頂透底
舜若多身
母陀羅臂
變態萬差
和氏獻璞
相如指瑕
大用不勤
寰中天子
塞外將軍
吾家底事
中規中矩
傳去諸方
不要賺舉
Despite the literary sophistication of the inscription, its teachings specify
that silent illumination itself is supreme precisely because it transcends
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 179
language, cutting off delusive thoughts and words to reveal the luminous
nature of the mind that completely encompasses the phenomenal world.
When discriminating thinking is eliminated, the emptiness of phenomena
and their mutual interpenetration naturally come forth, where all phenomena
interact in harmonious dialogue. Being beyond words, the realization of
silent illumination is absolute and cannot deceive, as unequivocally stated
in the inscription’s final line. Although there may be endless variations to
its intellectual interpretation and verbal expression, the insight itself is not
grounded in conceptual content possessing a truth value that could be debated
or manipulated. Even though Zen masters may quarrel about the effectiveness
of “silent illumination” as a method of realization, as I argue further below,
the term is primarily a metaphysical one, referring to the empty, radiant,
and inexpressible nature of existence, which broadly characterizes the Zen
perspective of reality.
Despite the necessity for discarding language and thought in order to
illuminate the true nature of reality, the silent insight of Caodong meditation,
apparently, does not hinder verbal expression. The inscription itself as a literary
work provides various clues to the relationship between silence, language, and
poetry. Hongzhi, after all, boldly declares that “only silence is the supreme
speech” (line 33). Silence is supreme as it is non-intellectual and non-deceptive,
yet nevertheless is effective at communicating non-discriminating wisdom. The
principle of non-duality is similarly “spoken” by the myriad phenomena (lines
37–40). According to Buddhist philosophy, every aspect of phenomena must
necessarily be a concrete example of emptiness, and as all things are joined
together in mutual interpretation, each participates in a metaphorical dialogue
of Buddhist discourse in which all things authenticate and preach the dharma
merely through their existence.
Beyond the figurative “speaking” of silence and phenomena, language and
poetic imagery also participate in the communication of silent illumination.
The insight of silent illumination, instead of merely rejecting language,
constitutes a reorientation to language that is conditioned by the nondiscriminating practice of meditation. The very first line of Hongzhi’s
inscription subtly alludes to this function of silence within language. The line
could also be translated: “In total silence, forget the words” (wangyan 忘言),
echoing this famous passage from the Daoist philosopher Zhuangzi, who is
deeply admired in Zen literature:
180 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
The fish trap exists because of the fish; once you’ve gotten the fish, you can
forget the trap. The rabbit snare exists because of the rabbit; once you’ve
gotten the rabbit, you can forget the snare. Words exist because of meaning,
once you’ve gotten the meaning, you can forget the words. Where can I find
a man who has forgotten words (wangyan 忘言) so I can have a word with
him?13
As Zhuangzi playfully implies here and elsewhere, the act of “forgetting words”
does not ultimately lead to the inability to speak but rather infuses one’s
language with profound significance. For Hongzhi, “forgetting words” enables
him to see through the apparent distinctions of conventional opposites, such as
light and dark or life and death, whose mutual dependence he expresses in the
paradoxical and poetic language of Zen.
Although most Zen inscriptions tend to be more didactic and discursive
than poetic, Hongzhi deftly blends theoretical language with poetic imagery
and allusion in his verse, where misty moons, dreaming cranes, and snow-laden
pines suddenly intrude into the master’s exposition like the non-sequiturs of
Zen dialogues. These images are not simply tossed in at random to perplex
the reader, however. They perform a vital function in challenging the dualistic
assumptions of language to reveal the world of mutual interpenetration.
The stanzas within Hongzhi’s inscription generally follow a topic-comment
structure, where the latter half of the stanza will often present a concrete
example of the theoretical matter under discussion. Typically, the poetic images
will metaphorically refer to the fundamental emptiness of phenomena, as in
the following couplet:
One hundred rivers returning to the sea,
One thousand peaks facing the summit (lines 51–52).
As in many other imagistic couplets crafted by Hongzhi, this one evokes
the interrelationship of the one and the many, where the myriad rivers all
return to a single body of water, or the highest summit towers over a range of
interconnected mountains. Neither the sea, the one hundred rivers, the myriad
peaks, nor the single summit possess an intrinsic identity; instead they each
rely on one another for their conventional existence.
The theme of emptiness is similarly reflected within one of the most
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 181
important set of images used by Hongzhi, where he depicts the realm of silent,
non-discrimination in terms of various white objects merged together to
become barely distinguishable. Two prominent couplets within his inscription
convey this type of monochromatic scenery:
The misty moon in the river of stars,
snowy pines on a cloud-covered peak (lines 7–8).
The crane dreams in the cold mist—
the river embracing the distant autumn (lines 11–12).
Within these couplets, the identity of the crane vanishes in the mist, and the
individual variations of the myriad pine trees disappear under a continuous
blanket of snow and clouds. The point of these images is not that reality is one
blank undifferentiated haze, however. Instead, these inchoate visual depictions
embody specific instances of the merging of difference and unity, or the
synthesis of the relative (pian) and absolute (zheng) in the terminology of the
Five Ranks as alluded to in the poem (line 23) and explored below. Despite
the blending of identities, the moon is still distinct from the Milky Way; the
river and autumn sky are not the same thing. Although the myriad things are
fundamentally empty and interconnected, they remain distinguishable and
differentiated. This point is explicitly made in Dongshan’s “Song of the Jeweled
Mirror Samādhi,” which, as a source for this type of imagery, includes a terse
explanation of its significance in fusing difference and unity:
Like snow within a silver bowl,
an egret hidden by the bright moon—
similar but not the same;
intermingled, yet still apparent.14
銀碗盛雪
明月藏鷺
類之弗齊
混則知處
Even though these objects blend into one another within a single white
radiance, they still retain their individual identities; thus, ultimately, they are
neither similar, nor different; neither one, nor two. In another inscription
that addresses the topic of “silent illumination,” entitled “Inscription on the
Chamber of Pure Bliss” (Jingleshi ming 淨樂室銘), Hongzhi explicitly relates
this type of imagery to the non-dual realization attained by putting the
182 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
discriminating mind to rest:
When thinking does not arise—
the reed blossoms shine like snow.15
思惟不涉
蘆花照雪
The reed blossoms are white flowers that resemble snow when they bloom.
From the perspective of the non-discriminating mind, there is no fundamental
difference between the snow and the blossoms, yet neither are the snow and
flowers the same within the relative, conventional world. The attainment of
“silent illumination” through the renunciation of discriminating thought,
then, is not simply a realization of unity, but rather the unity of difference and
oneness.
The term “silent illumination” itself can represent the identification of
the one and many, or the absolute and relative, as expressed within its poetic
imagery.16 If silence (mo 默) symbolizes the total oneness beyond thought, then
“illumination” can equally refer to the “reflection” (zhao 照) of subject and object
unified within the mirror-like mind, which actively illuminates the myriad
phenomena before it.17 The theme of reflection may further extend to the
mutual interactions and identity formation among the myriad phenomena,
whose interrelationship is one of the main topics of Hongzhi’s inscription.
Understanding the term in this way helps explain why Hongzhi warns that
“silence” and “illumination” must be attained together, as having one without
the other will merely continue one’s bondage within ignorance and delusive
passions (lines 43–44 and 47–48). Without insight into our unity through the
non-differentiation of silence, anger and aggression arise between individuals,
but without recognizing the myriad distinctions “reflected” and “illuminated”
by the mirror-like mind, one remains ignorant and unappreciative of the
diversity and individuality of things, simply wallowing in a crude and dualistic
perspective of reality as blank and homogenous.18
Portrait of the Master as the Embodiment of Silence
The inclusion of the “Inscription of Silent Illumination” and “Inscription on
the Chamber of Pure Bliss” within Hongzhi’s first yulu collection, Changlu Jue
heshang yulu 長蘆覺和尚語錄, which was published at the beginning of his career
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 183
as Zen abbot, suggests their vital role in the initial efforts to establish Hongzhi
as an important master of the Caodong school and to assert a distinctive
vision of the Caodong school and its meditation style. The first of Dahui’s
scathing attacks on “silent illumination” appeared in 1134, a few years after the
publication of Hongzhi’s inscriptions.19 Although there is no evidence that
Hongzhi responded to Dahui’s criticisms, the term “silent illumination” rarely
appears in the rest of his writings. Nevertheless, there is no apparent shift in
Hongzhi’s approach to meditation or conceptualization of Zen practice. To the
contrary, the word silence and themes of silence abound in his yulu, along with
the term illumination (zhao 照) and other imagery for radiance and light, which
are frequently paired with silence. Silence (mo 默) is not only Hongzhi’s favorite
word, the reduplicative “total silence” (momo 默默) that begins the “Inscription of
Silent Illumination” is used repeatedly.20 Nowhere is the theme of silence more
apparent than in the portrait encomia (zhenzan 真讚) that Hongzhi inscribed
on his own portrait. His portrait encomia thus provide strong evidence of
his ongoing commitment to and promotion of a meditative practice of total
silence and stillness, as well as the persistence of silence as a poetic topic and
image within his writings.
Portrait encomia are a kind of praise poetry, written in rhymed couplets
in irregular form, that were typically inscribed on portraits of Zen masters
and patriarchs as well as popular Buddhist figures like Śākyamuni Buddha
and the bodhisattva Guanyin. Hongzhi’s yulu contains over five hundred of
these verses, more than any other yulu collection from the Song. Although he
composed some encomia for portraits of other masters and patriarchs, he wrote
nearly all of them for his own image. The practice of composing “self-encomia”
(zizan 自讚) was already current among Zen masters in the Song, yet Hongzhi
exploited the form to an unprecedented degree. The yulu of his Caodong
predecessors, Touzi Yiqing and Danxia Zichun, stand in stark contrast in this
regard, containing very few self-encomia: only one in the former and three in
the latter.21 Instead, Touzi and Danxia wrote encomia for the previous abbots
of their temples, praising the Caodong ancestry and their own place within a
continuous line of Zen masters at the local level of their temples. Rather than
highlight the eminence of his lineage and monastery, Hongzhi projects himself
as the fully realized embodiment of the Caodong school’s distinctive and
superlative practice of total silence.
Most impressive in this respect are a number of portrait encomia that
184 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
either begin with the reduplicative for silence (momo) or some other overt
allusion to silence. The following are ten examples of the recurrent use
of the character for silence in the first line as the principal topic of his
encomia:
“Sitting alone completely silent…”
“Total silence—the style of our house…”
“In total silence, one knows…”
“In total silence, there is attainment…”
“Roaming in complete silence…”
“Absolutely silent without a thought…”
“In total silence, there are no words…”
“The attainment of profound silence /
cannot be done through writing…”
“Roaming silently through the empty kalpa…”
“Silent but not rigid, illuminated but not flowing…”
孤坐默默22
默默家風23
默默而知24
默默有得 25
默默而游 26
默默無思 27
默默亡言 28
淵默之得 / 不可文墨29
空劫默游30
默而不凝 / 照而不流31
This list could go on and on. Like the “Inscription of Silent Illumination,”
these poems privilege total silence as the distinguishing feature of his house
(jiafeng 家風), and the ultimate objective of Zen practice, perfected through
sitting meditation where one cuts off words and thoughts. Hongzhi’s repetition
of the term silence (mo) in this manner is a departure from his predecessors
and represents an innovative approach of his own. Even though Danxia and
Touzi arguably support the practice of silent meditation, the term silence only
appears a few times within the yulu of both Danxia and Touzi and only once
in the reduplicative form. I would further argue that the term “total silence”
(momo 默默), more aptly depicts Hongzhi’s teachings, as it occurs far more often
than “silent illumination.”32 Surprisingly, despite Zen criticism of language and
emphasis, the term silence and its reduplicative appear relatively infrequently
in other Zen yulu and texts.
Along with being collected in great numbers in his yulu, Hongzhi’s portrait
encomia were disseminated to numerous monks and laymen. A portrait of the
Zen master would not only serve as a powerful religious icon for Hongzhi’s
disciples, the portraits were also a means of fundraising, in turn, propagated
an alluring image of the master and his lineage.33 Whereas the titles to thirtynine of his portrait encomia specify that they were given to individual monks
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 185
or laypersons, the vast majority are collected under the general title stating
that a monk responsible for monastery fundraising requested the master to
inscribe a poem on his portrait: “A Zen Monk and Fundraiser Drew [the
Master’s] Portrait and Requested an Encomium” (Chanren bing huazhu xie zhen qiu
zan 禪人并化主寫真求贊). 34 The responsible monk would presumably offer these
inscribed portraits to laypersons as gifts or exchange them with willing donors.
Although the term “silence” (mo) and its reduplicative “total silence” (momo)
also occur within Hongzhi’s occasional and doctrinal poetry, the theme is
more often expressed indirectly in these poems. In contrast, within his portrait
encomia that were widely-distributed to monks and lay patrons, Hongzhi
chose to decisively stamp his image with the theme of silence, strengthening
the uniqueness and completeness of his teachings.
Because the bulk of Hongzhi’s portrait encomia were published at
the end of his life, they are a significant source for understanding how he
envisioned Caodong Zen in his later years. Although individual poems are
not dated, Hongzhi wrote a self-preface for his final and largest collection
of portrait encomia dated a few months before his death in 1157 and signed
in his own calligraphic hand.35 Thus, whereas the “Inscription of Silent
Illumination” was included in Hongzhi’s earliest publication as abbot, his
self-preface, along with the collected portrait encomia, indicate that he
continued to both endorse and craft a body of poetry where an absolute
silence attained through the relinquishment of thought was embedded as
a central poetic image and envisioned as the ultimate religious ideal of his
Caodong lineage. The first line of example 7 above nearly mimics the first
line of the “Inscription of Silent Illumination,” replacing the verb “to forget”
(wang 忘) with its homophone 亡 (wang) to read: “In total silence, there are no
words,” leaving no doubt about the absence of language within a deep state
of meditative absorption.
Flowering of the Withered Tree: Caodong Metaphors for Meditation
Despite his continual emphasis on absolute silence and profound stillness,
there is an active and dynamic side to Hongzhi’s vision of Zen practice that is
conveyed within a series of poetic images associated with the Caodong lineage.
His use of these images illustrates the crucial role of poetic language for
186 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
expressing the non-dual realization of silent meditation, and they provide key
insights into the theory of how “silent illumination” meditation would work
in practice, a topic that otherwise is infrequently addressed in Zen texts and
scholarship.36
Hongzhi, as with Caodong masters before him, frequently uses a series
of metaphors, such as the “withered tree” (kumu 枯木 or gao 槁) and “cold ashes”
(hanhui 寒灰), to depict the total stillness of the mind of no thought. The images
of the withered tree and cold ashes, like so many other Zen images and terms,
derive from the writings of Zhuangzi, where the question appears: “Can you
really make the body like a withered tree (gaomu 槁木) and the mind like dead
ashes (sihui 死灰)?”37 Similarly, the Nirvana Sūtra contains an allegorical passage
which depicts the withering of an old tree that completely disintegrates to
leave only the true dharma.38 The images of the withered tree and cold ashes as
symbols of meditation appear in Chinese Buddhist texts as early as the seventh
century39 and were picked up by Zen masters in the Tang dynasty. By the late
eleventh and early twelfth centuries, the images became strongly associated
with the Caodong lineage, whose masters frequently employed them to refer to
their ideal of meditative practice. Unlike the term “silent illumination” (mozhao),
which is particular to Hongzhi, these images are prevalent in the writings of
both Hongzhi and his Caodong predecessors.40
Following the sense of the phrase found in Zhuangzi, the withered tree
and cold ashes are used in the Buddhist context as technical terms for a
meditative state characterized by the cessation of thought and activity and
the stillness of both body and mind. The images are included in a set of
seven maxims attributed to Tang Dynasty Zen master Shishuang Qingzhu
石霜慶諸 (807–888), whose monks were called the “withered tree congregation”
(kumu zhong 枯木眾) because of the long hours they sat without lying down.41
Shishuang is known for formulating a series of seven maxims that provide
figurative instructions on how to attain a profound state of meditative
tranquility: “Cease, desist; spend ten thousand years in one thought; be cold
ashes, withered trees (hanhui kumu qu 寒灰枯木去); be a censer in an ancient
shrine; be cold and barren ground; be a strip of pure white silk.”42 The
language and directives of all seven maxims became incorporated into the
writings of Caodong masters in the Song dynasty.43 Hongzhi, for instance,
was known for using the image of the withered tree to teach his practitioners
how to sit in “withered tree Zen” (kumu chan 枯木禪), as one literatus describes:
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 187
“The master instructs the congregation to practice stillness and to sit erect
like withered trees (kuzhu 枯株).”44 According to Hongzhi, long hours of sitting
were necessary to still the mind and body and attain a transformative religious
experience. As he states: “The patch-robed disciples of my house must wither
their bodies (gao shen 槁身) and chill their thoughts (han nian 寒念) in order to
shed off life and death.”45
Beyond using these images as technical terms for meditative instruction,
however, Caodong masters also employed them as poetic images in their
sermons and verses. Although as technical terms, these images stress the
cultivation of absolute stillness and silence, as poetic images, stillness and
silence are transformed into the source from which phenomena naturally and
dynamically emerge. The image of the withered tree, in particular, is instructive
as to how Caodong masters envisioned a paradoxical relationship between
profound stillness and vibrant activity, and this image is more frequently
encountered than the others.46 As a poetic image, the withered tree is often
evoked in conjunction with images of spring and the fragrance of flowers,
symbolizing the abundance that arises from lifeless winter trees. For example,
Hongzhi connects the eleventh century Caodong revivalist, Zen master Touzi
Yiqing, to the image of the withered tree in a praise poem dedicated to his
ancestor: “Spring appears within the vase, and fragrant flowers blossom on
the withered trees” 壺春在而花芳枯木.47 Just as the blossoming of spring only
appears on withered trees, the practitioner must first become completely still
for dynamic realization to occur. Embodying the dead stillness of the withered
tree is thus the precondition for awakening, as Hongzhi poetically implies: “A
withered tree skeleton: a single ladle of spring” 枯木形骸一杓春.48 The asceticism
of meditation, thus, is not merely a means to the stillness of self-denial as
an end unto itself but rather a means of self-realization which embraces the
constantly changing world of color.
The poetic imagery of the withered tree offers insight into the process
of silent illumination and its relationship to the Buddhist ideal of no self.
Hongzhi rarely specifies practical guidelines for meditation other than
preserving total silence and stillness without dwelling in discriminating
thought and language.49 His poetic language does, however, indicate the
effects of attaining such a profound state of silence. When the practitioner
stills both mind and body and quiets the discriminating workings of the mind,
the distinction between self and other, subject and object, breaks down.50 This
188 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
stillness is a deathlike state implied by the images of the withered tree and
cold ashes that constitutes the figurative death of the small self, as a distinct
individual separate from other things. In Hongzhi’s “Inscription of Silent
Illumination,” the insight into the mutual dependence of the self and all things
derives from realizing the emptiness of subject and object (wu nengsuo 無能所; line
25), which serves simultaneously as both medicine (yao 藥) and poison (du 毒)
(lines 27–28). As poison, the breakdown of subject and object acts like a “poisoncovered drum” (tudugu 塗毒鼓; line 28)—the Zen drum that kills all who hear it;
yet, as medicine, it cures the practitioner from the delusion of possessing an
essentialized self. As indicated in Hongzhi’s inscription, the practitioner is not
simply a passive recipient in this process: one must actively strike the drum and
drink the poison.
The killing (sha 殺; line 30) of the small self is the point of awakening
that leads to the birth of the new self within the “gates” (men 門; line 31) of
the dharma—the self of “no self ” that is not divided into subject and object.
This reemergence of birth and life constitutes the other side of the withered
tree imagery, which helps explain the activity of awakening within silent
meditation. When one’s individual mind and body become absolutely quiet,
the practitioner’s environment is still one of sound and activity. At the
moment when the distinction between the individual and the environment
dissolves, the dynamic activity of the outer, phenomenal world is assumed
to be the self—writ large. With the disintegration of subject and object,
the bustling, changing, and variegated world of phenomena is witnessed as
arising within the stillness and silence of the mind, or stated poetically, the
fragrant and colorful blossoms of spring burst forth on a withered branch.
The seemingly paradoxical identity of activity and silence is thus realized as
a concrete fact of ordinary existence characterized by the interdependence
of mind and body, self and other, silence and sound. Interpreted in this way,
the role of myriad phenomena in affirming the self as interdependent, as
implied by the withered tree imagery, closely resembles Japanese Zen master
Dōgen’s (1200–1253) explication of the difference between delusion and
enlightenment:
The self advancing to confirm the myriad things is delusion.
The myriad things advancing to confirm the self is enlightenment.51
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 189
At the same time that the new self realized within silent illumination is one
with all things, it is, nevertheless, still a distinct and individual self. As Hongzhi
expresses at the beginning of his inscription (lines 5–8), meditative awakening
reveals the solitary luminosity of the individual:
Awakened, you shine alone,
returning to the miraculous within illumination—
the misty moon in the river of stars,
snowy pines on a cloud-covered peak.
靈然獨照
照中還妙
露月星河
雪松雲嶠
The individual self is a particular instantiation of “no self,” or the non-duality
of subject and object, that is unique unto itself. Hongzhi thus depicts the
awakened self in terms of the metaphors of white objects that are blended
together to become indistinguishable, yet still distinct. The self, like a
single snowy pine on a cloud covered peak, awakens to its own particular
interrelationship with the myriad things. In this sense, the individual self
is neither one nor two: The self is both absolutely one with all things and
absolutely distinct in its individual realization of the unity of subject and
object. In these terms, we can understand the characteristic insistence of
the Zen master that each individual must awaken to their own non-dual
existence.
One of the difficulties in translating and explaining Hongzhi’s teachings is
that silent illumination is both a temporal event and one that is timeless. On
the one hand, the realization of silent illumination is a momentary occurrence
brought about causally by the practitioner and thus, is described as an
“ultimate attainment” (zhide 至得; line 55). Only through individual effort will
meditative discipline eventually “bear fruit” (jieguo 結果; line 32), just as winter
branches only bloom upon the arrival of spring. Thus, contrary to the Dahui’s
criticism that “silent illumination” neglects cultivation of a break-through
enlightenment experience, Hongzhi’s poetic language and imagery suggest
otherwise.
On the other hand, silent illumination is neither caused nor temporal
as it refers to the fundamental nature of the individual’s existence. In fact,
Hongzhi’s inscription elaborates far more on Buddhist metaphysics as realized
through awakening than the pragmatics of meditation. The new self that
is born through silent illumination is no other than the original self. The
190 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
non-duality of self and other is not something created out of the power of
the individual. Instead, it is analogous to a pre-existing condition exposed
through the diagnostic technique of quiet sitting.52 For this reason, Hongzhi
describes silent illumination as non-attained and ultimately effortless. As he
says, when one has true insight, “attainment is forgotten” (gong wang 功忘; line
16). The practitioner has not truly brought about any fundamental change or
attained anything, only awakened to the very nature of their own existence. In
the paradoxical language of Zen, true attainment is no attainment at all. This
last point is crucial because any notion of attainment or achievement would
constitute a delusive, egotistical attachment. Instead, as Hongzhi dictates,
the point is to act selflessly, “responding without falling into [the thought of ]
attainment” (ying buduo gong 應不墮功; line 35).
Whether understood as a temporal event or timeless fact of existence, “silent
illumination” is representative of the predominant “sudden” enlightenment
model in Zen. Its insight emerges instantaneously precisely because it is
grounded in one’s true nature, or buddha-nature, which always has the potential
of blossoming forth. In fact, another poetic function of the withered tree
imagery, which derives from this Zen dialogue with master Xiangyan Zhixian
香嚴智閑 (799–898), is to indicate this inherent potential of buddha-nature:
A monk asked Master Zhixian “What is the Dao?”
Zhixian responded, “A dragon hums within the withered tree” (kumu longyin
枯木龍吟).
The monk replied, “I do not understand.”
Xiangyan said, “Eyeballs within the skull” (dulou li yanqing 髑髏裏眼睛).53
The dragon in the withered tree, like the eyeballs in the skull, not only
represents the living within the dead but a hidden, potent, and dynamic force
residing within the self. Hongzhi often alludes to the dragon as sleeping or
hibernating amidst the clouds, as in these poetic lines from his sermons:
The sleeping dragon hums in the clouds of withered 蟄龍吟枯木之雲.54
trees.
The dragon hums through the endless night, gently stirring the clouds of
龍吟夜永, 依依枯木之雲.55
withered trees.
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 191
As clouds symbolize the training monks, Hongzhi is suggesting that the
voice of the ultimate buddha-nature, dormant in everyone, needs to be
awakened within the monks. But it is only by remaining deadly still and
silent like withered trees that the voice of buddha-nature is heard. Hongzhi’s
poetic language thus captures the actuality and potentiality of buddhanature’s silent and ever-present voice. It is originally, immediately, and
inherently present in us all, but must be stirred and awakened in order for its
truth to be realized.
Along with the dynamic quality of Hongzhi’s poetic imagery for silent
illumination, the realization of “no self ” does not merely occur passively
within silent meditation but forms the basis of selfless action. Hongzhi
frequently draws on another popular set of Zen images often associated with
the Caodong tradition to depict the selfless activity of inanimate beings who
sing, dance, and play. The most popular of these images is the pairing of the
wooden man and jade maiden, who symbolize the yin-yang complementarity
of a non-dual cosmos, yet these images also include mud oxen, stone horses,
and the like, as they engage in activities seemingly inconceivable for lifeless
beings:
The wooden man sings atop the mountain range;
The stone maiden dances on the banks of the stream.56
木人嶺上歌
The cloud-rhinoceros plays with the moon, a lustrous gem.
The wooden horse roams through the spring as an unbridled
steed.57
雲犀玩月璨含輝
石女溪邊舞
木馬游春駿不覉
Hongzhi’s first couplet above again alludes to Dongshan’s “Song of the Jeweled
Mirror Samādhi”:
The wooden man begins to sing;
the stone maiden rises to dance.
Since this cannot be reached through feelings or knowledge,
how could it involve thinking?” 58
木人方歌
石女起舞
非情識到
寧容思慮
Without attachment to self, thought, or deliberation, the wooden man and
stone maiden act naturally and spontaneously according to the paradigm
192 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
of non-action (wuwei 無爲) . As Dongshan informs us, not only do the
movements of these inanimate figures challenge our conceptions of life
and death and transcend the limits of ordinary thought, intellectualization
and knowledge are insufficient as causes for selfless action. Instead, as
Hongzhi alludes to, the spontaneity of Zen is rooted in the stillness of nondiscrimination: “When the wooden boy sings, spring returns to the withered
tree” 木童吟處槁回春.59 Although the stillness of the withered tree is the
precondition for spontaneous action, the selfless activity of the wooden boy
is equally necessary for returning the withered tree to life, thus perfecting the
realization of silent illumination.
Like wooden men singing in chorus, Hongzhi along with other Caodong
masters voiced the silence of meditation through a vibrant poetic repertoire,
which they continuously employed and adapted within their sermons and
verses. Hongzhi’s poetic imagery is effective at capturing vivid examples
of profound silence and its effects on the practitioner, including the many
paradoxical insights that characterize the logic of non-duality. Rather than
merely elaborate on the non-dual relationship between opposites, as much Zen
literature in fact does, his poetic imagery presents concrete demonstrations
of the dynamic interrelationships between life and death, light and darkness,
unity and diversity, silence and song. In this manner, poetry becomes a pivotal
means to fuse and embody the non-discrimination of silence within the
differentiation of language. Overall, Hongzhi’s conception of meditation
exemplifies a mode of discipline in which silence and language are deeply
intertwined, and its metaphorical representations in the Caodong tradition
function as striking yet effectively imaginable illustrations of both its stillness
and paradoxical insights—far more evocative than flat discursive statements on
non-duality.
Weaving Together the Relative and Absolute: Poetry and Silence in
Hongzhi’s Vision of Caodong Teachings
As demonstrated within this paper, poetry constituted a privileged medium
through which Hongzhi promoted the distinctiveness of the Caodong
lineage and conveyed its silent meditative insights. Hongzhi drew on
the tradition of Zen doctrinal inscriptions to strongly assert the singular
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 193
perfection of the Caodong practice of silent illumination; he utilized
the genre of portrait encomia to disseminate an image of himself as the
supreme embodiment of absolute silence; and he employed the Caodong
metaphors of the withered tree, stone man, wooden maiden, and others
to depict the vivid dynamism emerging out of contemplative stillness. In
doing so, Hongzhi engaged the meditative concepts, doctrinal formulations,
and poetic activities of his predecessors to depict a particular image of the
Caodong school—one which coupled the practice of silent meditation with
poetic composition.
In addition to the efficacy of poetry for conveying non-dual insights and
for promoting a distinct vision of Caodong teachings, the Caodong philosophy
of the Five Ranks (wuwei 五位) offers a philosophical paradigm for viewing
linguistic expression and wordless meditation as two essential aspects of a
single mode of religious self-cultivation and, as such, provides significant
justification for Hongzhi’s combined mastery of profound silence and poetic
composition. The Five Ranks doctrinal scheme explores the interrelationship
of the absolute (zheng) and relative (pian) within five distinct perspectives, as
follows.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
The Relative within the Absolute (zheng zhong pian 正中偏)
The Absolute within the Relative (pian zhong zheng 偏中正)
Coming from within the Absolute (zheng zhong lai 正中來)
Arriving amidst Both (jian zhong zhi 兼中至)
Unity Attained (jian zhong dao 兼中到)60
The synthesis of the absolute and relative within the scheme philosophically
corresponds to Hongzhi’s poetic integration of silence and language and
reflects the identification of ultimate and conventional truths in Mahāyāna
Buddhist philosophy more broadly, particularly its expression within Chinese
Huayan Buddhism as principle (li 理) and phenomena (shi 事).61 The Five Ranks
is also strongly connected to poetry because the foremost expression of the
scheme is encapsulated in a series of imagistic verses attributed to Dongshan,
which were frequently imitated by Zen masters from the Caodong and other
lineages.62 In addition to composing his own verses on the Five Ranks and
related schemes,63 the Five Ranks’ terminology of absolute (zheng) and relative
(pian) pervades Hongzhi’s sermons and poetry, as seen in the “Inscription of
194 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
Silent Illumination” where he evokes the image of the loom that weaves the
absolute and relative together (lines 21–24).
The Five Ranks’ insistence on viewing the relative within the absolute
and the absolute within the relative, as presented in the first two ranks,
provides a model for understanding the relationship between silence
and language and the two poles of Hongzhi’s conception of Caodong
practice. The first rank begins with perceiving the existence of what is
relative, particular, and distinct within what is conceived to be ultimate and
absolute. Thus, in the model of Hongzhi’s Caodong practice, one begins
with silent meditative practice where thinking is cut off. As illustrated by
the Caodong metaphors for meditation, however, silence does not appear
as silence; it contains within it all the dynamic aspects of the phenomenal
world, including words and thoughts that arise out of emptiness. Thus,
within stillness and silence, one witnesses the relative within the absolute.
Hongzhi’s model of practice also moves in the other direction: the mastery
of words. Hongzhi’s project is not only to attain silent illumination but to
manifest the emptiness of language, or, metaphorically speaking, present
silence through words. Within the Five Ranks, this would correspond to
the second rank of realizing the absolute within the relative. As indicated
by the further stages of the Five Ranks, Zen philosophy and practice do not
merely consist of focusing on one side and then the other of the relationship
between the absolute and relative. Instead, the absolute and relative should
be perceived as fully integrated at all moments. Thus, rather than visualizing
Zen practice as sometimes cultivating silence and at other times engaging
with language, Hongzhi’s poetic expressions of silence and non-duality
themselves manifest the integration of the absolute and relative, or silence
and language.
Hongzhi took both sides of the Caodong practice spectrum to new
extremes. He advanced the notion current among Caodong masters in the
eleventh and twelfth centuries that their distinctive method of praxis was
to attain a meditative state of total stillness and silence, and he adopted
a forceful language of total silence to stress the stillness of Caodong
meditation and its practice of cutting off thought. At the same time,
Hongzhi was a skilled Zen poet, who fully exploited existing Zen poetic
practices and genres and whose poetic output is unmatched within Song
yulu. Ultimately, as reflective of the Five Ranks’ model of synthesizing the
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 195
absolute and relative, Hongzhi fused profound silence and literary mastery
together within his poetic work, envisioning these two ostensibly opposed
fields of engagement as a single, complementary practice embodied by his
Caodong teachings.
196 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
Notes
1 A detailed and comprehensive historical account of the revitalization of the Caodong
lineage in the Song is found in Schlütter (2008).
2 For a discussion of Dahui’s kanhua method and his criticism of silent illumination, see
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Levering (1978, 240–282), Schlütter (2008, 104–121), and Buswell (1992, 321–428).
Dahui’s criticisms of “silent illumination” are contained within his letters and general
sermons that were both addressed to laypersons.
Hongzhi’s yulu is a particularly valuable source for understanding Song dynasty
composition and collection practices because a Song dynasty edition, the Hongzhi
lu 宏智錄, is still extant in Japan. The Hongzhi lu is reprinted in volume 1 of Wanshi
roku 宏智錄 (1986), edited by Ishii Shūdō 石井修道, which provides information on its
publication history and contents. Schlütter (2004, 181–206) has written a detailed
analysis of the contents of the Song edition. Although the precise publication date of
the Song edition is not clear, the evidence suggests that it was compiled sometime after
Hongzhi’s death in the late twelfth century.
By “poetry” I am referring to verses written in rhymed parallel couplets that are collected
under the general term jisong 偈頌 (Buddhist gāthā) within yulu. Some of these poems
follow the formal and thematic conventions of shi 詩, but many do not. The category
of jisong admits a wider range of poetic forms and sub-genres than shi. For further
discussion, see Byrne and Protass (2015).
Ruizhou Dongshan Liangjie chanshi yulu 瑞州洞山良价禪師語錄 (T 27, no. 1986b, 525–526).
For the history of the “Baojing sanmei ge” and the problematic attribution to Dongshan,
see Schlütter (2008, 158).
See Schlütter (2008, 145).
See Schlütter (2008, 144–174).
Sharf (2002, 193–227) offers a detailed analysis of the terms “transcendence” (li 離)
and “subtlety” (wei 微), their Daoist origins, and their pairing in the Baozang lun 寳藏論
(Treasure Store Treatise). According to Sharf, these terms function as complementary
opposites similar to li 理 (principle) and shi 事 (phenomena) and, as such, are understood
to be neither dual nor unified (202). As Sharf remarks, liwei occurs frequently in Song
Zen texts where the term can be used with different senses, sometimes alluding to
dualistic distinctions (196). Hongzhi’s use of liwei in the following stanza in relation
to the metaphor of the jade loom that fuses the absolute (zheng) and relative (pian)
indicates his understanding of the term as a dialectical synthesis of unity and difference,
which would correspond with the interdependence of principle and phenomena noted by
Sharf.
For an explanation of the “poison blackbird” and “poison-painted drum,” see the entries
for those terms in the glossary in Hori (2003, 695–696).
Literally, this is a goose. The image here refers to the ability to extract the milk out of
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 197
watered milk, leaving only the water.
11 This couplet alludes to stories about a famous jade disc. The unpolished stone was
originally discovered by a man referred to as Master Bian He 卞和 who presented it to
three kings. The first two kings saw the gem as an ordinary stone and thus punished
Master He, each cutting off one of his feet. Only the third king recognized its worth.
During the Warring States period, the King of Qin requested the now-polished jade
disc from the state of Zhao in exchange for fifteen cities. Zhao minister Lin Xiangru was
responsible for delivering the jade to the King of Qin. When Xiangru realized that the
King was not going to honor his promise, he claimed there was a flaw in the jade and
offered to point it out to the King in order to regain possession of it. See Watson (1993,
259).
The meaning of these allusions is transformed in Zen literature to refer to the
interrelationship between the ultimate and conventional. Whereas the kings fail to see
the gem (the ultimate) within the ordinary stone (the conventional), Xiangru points out
the flaw (conventional) within the jade. To take the analogy a step further, the presence
of the conventional does not actually blemish the ultimate—the jade truly has no flaw.
12 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu 宏智禪師廣錄 (T 48, no. 2001, 100a–100b). I have made my
own translations in consultation with the partial translation of the “Mozhao ming” in
Schlütter (2008, 145–147), and the full translation in Leighton and Wu (1991, 52–54).
In a couple of places, I have used Leighton and Wu’s phrases, including “silence is the
supreme speech” (line 33) and “like bees gather nectar” (line 54).
13 Trans. Watson (1968, 302).
14 In Ruizhou Dongshan Liangjie chanshi yulu (T 47, 525c).
15 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 100b–c). This inscription has not received the critical
attention given to the “Mozhao ming,” but has been translated in Leighton and Wu (1991,
55–56).
16 Leighton and Wu (1991, xxxii) have previously noted the relationship between silent
illumination and the Five Ranks, stating: “The balancing of serenity and illumination is
analogous to the balancing of awareness of the absolute and of the relative as described in
the five ranks.”
17 The term zhao is often associated with the Zen imagery of the mind as a mirror. As
Hongzhi states, for example: “The mirror’s images reflect [or illuminate] the mind with
no abode” 鑑像照心無所住. Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 84b). The term zhao occurs in
Hongzhi’s writings to refer to the light of the moon or snow illuminating, or shining
upon, an object, or to refer to the mutual reflection (xiangzhao 相照) of two objects, as
in: “The autumn mind and clear moon reflect each other in the night” 心秋霽月夜相照.
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 84c). These usages imply a differentiation between subject
and object. However, zhao most frequently appears within the phrase “self-illumination”
(zizhao 自照), referring to the illuminated mind that unifies subject and object. As with
the imagery of oneness and differentiation and the Five Ranks’ synthesis of absolute and
198 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
relative, the unity of subject and object is always realized within the duality of subject and
object.
Sheng-yen and Stevenson (2001, 150–151) note that such a blank state without the
activity of illumination is not the point of the practice and should not be identified with
silent illumination.
Schlütter (2008, 145).
The term silence itself occurs 312 times in Hongzhi’s yulu, far more than any other Chan
yulu in the Song or afterwards. Among those instances, the reduplicative momo appears
sixty-eight times.
See Touzi Yiqing chanshi yulu 投子義青禪師語錄 (ZZ 71, no. 1423) and Danxia Zichun
chanshi yulu 丹霞子淳禪師語錄 (ZZ 71, no. 1425).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 79a).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 79b).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 106a).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 107a).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 109b, 117c).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 113c).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 117b).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48¸ 80b).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 116c).
Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 109a).
In making this claim, I do not intend to diminish the importance of “illumination” (zhao)
within Hongzhi’s conception of meditative practice because, as mentioned, it continues
to appear regularly throughout his writings, often paired with silence. Hongzhi even
claims within one portrait encomium: “Clear illumination is the matter of my school”
湛照自家事. Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 94c). However, the term does not occur
nearly as frequently nor is it highlighted as much as “total silence” (momo) in his writings,
particularly within these later portrait encomia. Even in the exceptional example just
quoted, the verse nevertheless begins with the imagery of sitting in “total silence.” For
further discussion of the significant dimensions of illumination, see Sheng-yen and
Stevenson (2001, 139–162).
Drawing on evidence from Hongzhi’s yulu and other sources, Griffith Foulk and Robert
Sharf (1993, 199) argue that portrait encomia were disseminated for fundraising.
Schlütter (2004, 195) echoes their argument in relation to Hongzhi’s portrait encomium.
Over four hundred encomia are collected under this general title in juan 9 of Hongzhi’s
yulu. Portrait encomia are also collected in juan 7 where eighty-eight verses are
collected under the title “A Chan Monk Drew [the Master’s] Portrait and Requested an
Encomium” (Chanren xiezhen qiu zan 禪人寫真求贊).
The Song edition preface with Hongzhi’s signature within the Hongzhi lu is printed in
Wanshi roku (1986, 326).
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 199
36 Most scholarly discussions about “silent illumination” contrast it with Dahui’s kanhua
meditation in relation to its commitment to non-cognitive silence and stillness, with
the emphasis being on Dahui and his criticisms of “silent illumination,” rather than
analyzing Caodong meditation on its own terms. The most comprehensive accounts of
“silent illumination” in Western scholarship are Schlütter (2008, 145–153), Leighton and
Wu (1991, xxix–xxxiii), and Sheng-yen and Stevenson (2001, 139–162), which offers
an insightful modern account of “silent illumination,” including practical instructions
and advice, as well as a discussion of its relation to previous conceptions of meditative
practice. My explanation here is, ironically, greatly informed by Hori’s (2000, 280–315)
description of how the kanhua method works.
37 Zhuangzi jishi 莊子集釋 (1961, juan 1, no. 2, p. 43). Trans. Watson (1968, 36).
38 Daniepan jing 大涅槃經 (T 12, no. 374, 597a).
39 A history of the use of these images is provided in Ahn (2007, 109–121).
40 Zen monks worked within a shared context of poetic forms, imagery, technical terms,
and philosophical conceptions that were never limited to a single school. Furthermore,
despite their critical importance in shaping Chan texts, as best illustrated by Welter
(2006 and 2008), lineages were primarily imagined constructs that did not operate or
exist independently in practice. As McRae (2003, xix) succinctly stated as one of his
rules for Zen Studies: “Lineage assertions are as wrong as they are strong.” See also his
analysis of Zen lineages (1–21). It is surprising, however, how often particular metaphors
for meditation are found within a Caodong context or, before the twelfth century, the
broader Shitou lineage from which they derive. For a comprehensive examination of
the expressions and sources of Caodong images for meditation, see Schlütter (2008,
122–174). Even more telling than the use of certain poetic images by Caodong monks is
the evidence for how the lineages were imagined within Zen writings. There were often
concerted attempts in Zen texts to delineate the characteristic styles of the respective
schools, including poetic depictions. For example, in Linji master Jinshan Tanying’s
金山曇頴 (989–1060) poetic series “Five Schools of the [Zen] Tradition” (Zongmen
wupai 宗門五派) preserved within the early twelfth century Xudenglu 續燈錄 (1103), his
description of the Caodong lineage condenses the recurring metaphors and themes
illustrated here within a single verse, with reference to the absolute (zheng) and relative
(pian), Dongshan’s bird paths, the stone maiden, and the withered tree. Jianzhong jingguo
xudenglu 建中靖國續燈錄 (ZZ 78, no. 1556, 821c). This poem is translated in Byrne (2015,
104).
The conceived differences between schools should not be exaggerated, however; the
point of their practices remained largely if not wholly the same. For instance, despite
Dahui’s criticisms of the Caodong objective to become like a withered tree, within one of
his general sermons (pushuo 普說) Dahui offers very similar instructions: “The main thing
is to shut off all your sense-organs and make your consciousness like a block of wood
(mutou 木頭).” Dahui Pujue chanshi pushuo 大慧普覺禪師普說 (M 59, no. 1540, 820a). Trans.
200 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
by Suzuki (1970, 100). Similarly, Ahn (2007, 110) translates a letter written by Dahui’s
master Yuanwu Keqin in which he uses the images of the withered tree and cold ashes as
positive descriptions of meditative attainments.
41 See Schlütter (2008, 224, n. 73). See Chanlin sengbao zhuan 禪林僧寳傳 (ZZ 79, no. 1560,
501c) and Jingde chuandenglu 景德傳燈錄 (T 51, no. 2076, 321a).
42 Liandeng huiyao 聯燈會要 (ZZ 79, 188c). Trans. Cleary (1998, 412), with modifications.
The Liangdeng huiyao contains the earliest mention of all seven maxims in the entry for
Qingzhu’s disciple: Jiufeng Daoqian 九峰道虔 (n.d.). See Schlütter (2008, 224, n. 73).
43 See Schlütter (2008, 132).
44 This is from a preface by Feng Wenshu 馮溫舒 written for Hongzhi’s informal sermons
dated to 1137. Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 57b). Trans. by Schlütter (2008, 151).
45 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 78a).
46 Note that the fusion of stillness and activity within the Caodong images for meditation
corresponds to the interrelationship between the absolute (zheng) and relative (pian)
in the philosophy of the Five Ranks as described below, as well as similar Mahāyāna
Buddhist pairings, such as emptiness and form, non-duality and duality, principle (li) and
phenomena (shi), etc. See also Ziporyn (2012, esp. 85–101) for an insightful analysis of
the interfusion of light and dark poetic imagery as representative of these dialectics in
key Caodong texts and its importance to the Five Ranks.
47 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 100a). Trans. by Leighton and Wu (1991, 50) with
modifications.
48 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 94).
49 Z en masters were generally reluctant to write about the practical and technical
dimensions of meditation, as discussed by Bielefeldt (1988, esp. 60–61). Schlütter (2008,
150) also notes that this was the case for Song dynasty Zen masters.
50 See Sheng-yen and Stevenson (2001, 155–158) for further description of the oneness
between self and the environment within silent illumination practice, as well as the active
awareness it entails.
51 Trans. Cook (1989, 66).
52 Sheng-yen and Stevenson (2001, 147) explain this as follows: “[Silent illumination]
need not be cultivated at all!... [I]t is a method that is no-method. Silent illumination as
the causal practice and silent illumination as the fruit of enlightenment are ultimately
indistinguishable.”
53 Jingde chuandenglu (T 51, 284b).
54 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 12a).
55 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 14b).
56 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 39c).
57 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 18c).
58 In Ruizhou Dongshan Liangjie chanshi yulu (T 47, 526a).
59 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 84).
BYRNE • Verses of Silent Illumination: Hongzhi Zhengjue’s Poetic Vision of Caodong Zen 201
60 The translation of the Five Ranks is modified from Miura and Sasaki (1967, 62–72). I
have replaced their rendering of zheng and pian as “real” and “apparent,” with “absolute”
and “relative.” I have also changed the translation of the fourth rank in order to
distinguish it from the fifth rank and capture the sense of the alternate title of the rank
as “Arriving within the Crooked” (pian zhong zhi 偏中至). The term “Five Ranks” (wuwei
五位) itself is more accurately translated as “Five Stages,” or “Five Positions,” as used in
Lai (1983). The terms zheng and pian, as well as the Five Ranks, have been translated in
numerous ways. For further discussion of the translations of these terms, see Leighton
(2015, 212) and Lai (1983). Hori (2003, 24) argues for translating the terms literally,
imagistically, and non-hierarchically as “straight” and “crooked.”
61 Many scholars have noted the connection between the Five Ranks and Huayan thought.
For the most comprehensive analysis of the relationship between the Five Ranks and
earlier Chinese and Indian Mahāyāna thought, see Verdú (1974, 115–238).
62 Ruizhou Dongshan Liangjie chanshi yulu (T 47, 525c). For translations of Dongshan’s
verses and other Five Ranks verses and commentaries, see Verdú (1974), Lai (1983),
Ziporyn (2012), and Leighton (2015).
63 Hongzhi chanshi guanglu (T 48, 99a). For analysis of Hongzhi’s Five Ranks verses and the
significance of poetic language within the Five Ranks, see Byrne (forthcoming).
202 International Journal of Buddhist Thought & Culture 29(2) · 2019
Abbreviations
T
Taishō shinshū daizōkyō 大正新修大藏經. Edited by Takakusu Junjirō, Watanabe
Kaigyoku and Ono Genmyō. Beitou,Taiwan: Zhonghua fojiao wenhua guanying yin
Dazangjing weiyuanhui, 1955.
M
Manji Daizōkyō. 卍正藏經. Taibei: Xinwenfeng chuban gongsi, 1980.
ZZ
Shinsan Dai Nihon zoku Zōkyō. 新纂大日本續藏經. Tokyo: Kokusho Kankōkai, 1975–
1989.
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