Note: 16th century master Zen Master Han-Shan Te Ch'ing is different from 9th century Master Han Shan known as Cold Mountain.

 (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanshan_Deqing) 

“At 4pm on 5 November 1623, Hanshan died at age 78, seated upright. His body was enshrined at Nanhua temple (right next to Huineng's) where it continued to be venerated until the present day with various offerings.[39][40]”

John Tan and I likes the expressions of this master and think they are well written, particularly the first section on the mirror mind that I showed him. I hope skilled translators that are bilingual in English and Chinese can translate his texts in full in the future.

Contact me if these ChatGPT (using o1 model) translations are inaccurate. Based on selected excerpts from http://fodizi.net/fojing/20/7044.html

Footnotes were generated by ChatGPT

English Translation (Paragraph 1)

Instruction to Lingzhou Jing Shangren

In the past, I traveled to Haimen, climbed Mount Miaogao, and entered the boundless samādhi. I visited the “Laṅkā Room,” where I saw a copy of the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra in Elder Su Dongpo’s handwriting, composed on behalf of Zhang Fangping, kept permanently at Jinshan (Golden Mountain) by Chan Master Foyin. At that time, throughout my entire body, from every pore, there arose a pervading joy and ease, like the growth of fresh grass in spring, and I did not yet know the reason. Later, upon consulting the scriptures and verifying my experience, I realized it was my own habitual tendencies suddenly manifesting within, unconsciously and spontaneously.

From that point on, I wandered like clouds and flowing water. In this vast oceanic realm, the wide, open sky so bright and expansive, I would often experience a clarity like a great round mirror hanging before my brow. But later, driven by illusory karma, I ended up traveling straight into malarial regions. Sailing past Caoxi, down through the Cengyang Gorge, passing by Little Jinshan, I arrived at Yangcheng (Guangzhou). I had no time to enjoy the scenery until the autumn of the Wuxu year, when I was finally able to behold its magnificence. Together with Mirror-Mind Shangren (Jingxin Shangren), I walked through the Hall of Su Dongpo. We read a poem regarding an awakening to a former life, and I was shocked into momentary disorientation—almost as though glimpsing an old journey. At that instant, I realized that heaven and earth are one vast illusion-making device; myriad phenomena are one illusory cluster. Arising and vanishing are illusory traces; birth and death are an illusory stage; rivers and mountains are an illusory vista; scales and plumage are illusory objects; sages and the ordinary are one illusory crowd; you and I are but one illusory meeting.

Venerable Jingxin humbled himself and took refuge in the Dharma, reciting the Diamond Sūtra daily as his established practice. By this means, his old defilements fell away in a single sweep, and his mind’s radiance gradually brightened. Indeed, it showed that he was willing to scrape away grime and polish the brightness, unlike those who drift along in the karmic seas of worldliness without truly striving. Recently, he brought a manuscript volume and asked for Dharma teachings to further his practice. I suddenly recalled my own travels at Haimen and realized that reading Su Dongpo’s script here, in this place, felt like re-encountering a former lifetime. Reflecting that human birth and death are illusions—coming and going like a dream—if illuminated through the Dharmadhātu’s oceanic wisdom, the three times and the ten directions are equal in a single instant. Heavenly palaces and pure realms all align equally in one path; mind, Buddha, and sentient beings are undifferentiated. Cauldrons of boiling soup and braziers of charcoal, in reality, are cool and refreshing. Grass, trees, courtyard sedges, sails in the breeze, shore birds, shifting clouds, and the rising and setting sun and moon—wherever one looks, none does not universally manifest the samādhi of corporeal bodies (普現色身三昧).

For we who study the Way, the most vital thing is to forge a vajra-like correct eye, breaking through the darkness of ignorance, so our inherent wisdom-luminosity can shine forth. Then, in our everyday activities—at the mere raising of an eyebrow, the movement of an arm, the lifting of a spoon, or the picking up of chopsticks—we can suddenly reveal our self-nature undefiled Dharma-body. This is what it means to be a liberated person. It is like when Ānanda (or “Kongsheng” in some texts) awakened to prajñā and burst into tears before the Buddha, declaring that he had truly not gained any so-called “Arhat” status. Among all things in the world, what could be beyond this prajñā? Yet prajñā is nothing external—it is precisely the light of our mind-mirror. Yongjia said, “Until now, the dusty mirror was never polished; only today has it been clarified.”

You, named “Mirror Mind,” must ask: do you make your mind into a mirror, or do you employ a mirror to illuminate your mind? If you take the mind as mirror, then, as Venerable Lu (the Sixth Patriarch) said, “A bright mirror is not even a stand.” With no stand, the mirror has nowhere to be placed. If you use a mirror to reflect the mind, since the mind is originally signless, from where could any reflection come? In that case:

“If it is not mind, then it is not mirror;

If not mirror, then not mind;

Mind and mirror both do not pertain.

From where could the name be established?”

Accordingly, “Mirror Mind” would be but a provisional name. If the name is provisional, then what you call ‘true’ is not truly real. It follows that the prajñā you read cannot be pinned down as literal text or words resting on your lips and tongue.

If you can awaken to this Dharma-gate, then the light on the river and the colors of the water, the cries of birds and the roar of the tides, all deliver prajñā’s true form. Morning bells and evening drums—bidding farewell or welcoming arrivals—are no different from Kāśyapa’s silent meditation in a mountain cave, recognizing the Dharma-body. At that point, whether it be the Laṅkā text handwritten by Su Dongpo, the charred wood that Venerable Foyin used, or my return to this mountain, binding together the karma of three lifetimes—when you casually pick up this text and seek instruction, do not say it is just idle dream-chatter from a former life. As the sūtra states, “All conditioned things are like dreams and illusions, like bubbles or shadows, like dew or lightning; thus should one regard them.”

If you, Venerable, can maintain mindfulness of your fundamental cause, then—whenever old habits surge up—simply by reading this text, you will unknowingly find all deluded thoughts, inverted passions, and dust-like afflictions melting away on their own, as ice dissolves.

Original Text (Paragraph 1):

「示灵洲镜上人

余昔游海门。登妙高峰。入无际三昧。入棱伽室。睹东坡老人。代张方平手书棱伽经。与佛印禅师留作金山常住。是时举身毛孔。熙怡悦豫。如春生百草。不自知其所以然也。及后览教乘印证。乃知为习气横发于中。熏然不自觉耳。自尔行脚云水间。此海阔天空虚明昭旷之境。时时如大圆镜。悬于眉睫间也。顷为幻业所弄。直走瘴乡。舟行过曹溪口。下浈阳峡。经小金山。而抵羊城。未暇登眺。戊戌秋日。始得览其胜。与镜心上人。过东坡堂。读悟前身诗。又爽然自失。恍然若睹旧游。是知天地一幻具。万法一幻丛。出没一幻迹。死生一幻场。江山一幻境。鳞甲羽毛一幻物。圣凡一幻众。尔我一幻遇耳。上人降心白法。日诵金刚经以为定课。旧染顿祛。心光渐朗。盖肯于刮垢磨光。非泛泛波流业海者比也。顷持卷索法语。为进修之资。老人猛思昔游海门故事。今此地见东坡如前身。因叹人生生死幻化去来梦事。若以法界海慧照之。则三际十方。当下平等。天宫净土。一道齐平。心佛众生。了无差别。镬汤罏炭。实际清凉。草树庭莎。风帆沙鸟。烟云变状。日月升沈。举目对扬。无非普現色身三昧也。吾学道人。所贵金刚正眼。烁破无明痴暗。焕发本有智慧光明。拈向现前日用。欬唾掉臂。扬眉瞬目之际。拈匙举箸之间。顿显自性无垢法身。是称为得解脱人。即如空生悟般若时。涕泪悲泣对佛。自谓实无有得名阿罗汉也。一切世间。所有诸法。岂有过此般若者哉。然般若非他。即吾人心镜之光耳。永嘉云。比来尘镜未曾磨。今日分明方剖析。上人号曰镜心。是以心为镜耶。是以镜照心耶。若以心为镜。则老卢道。明镜亦非台。非台则无镜可寄。若以镜照心。心本无相。又何从而照之耶。如此非心则非镜。非镜则非心。心镜两非。名从何立。如此则上人名是假名。名假则真亦非真。是则所读之般若。又岂有文言字句。寄于齿颊之端耶。上人苟能悟此法门。则江光水色。鸟语潮音。皆演般若实相。晨钟暮鼓。送往迎来。皆空生晏坐石室见法身时也。如此则东坡之所书棱伽。佛印之杀青灾木。与老人今日荷三生之缘。重过此山。上人偶拈此卷以请益。莫道又是前身梦语也。经云。一切有为法。如梦幻泡影。如露亦如电。应作如是观。上人苟能不昧本因。当习气横发。试取此卷读之。不觉妄想颠倒情尘。自然冰消瓦解矣。」

English Translation (Paragraph 2)

Instruction to Scholar Ou Beryu

I have often said that all saints and ordinary beings achieve their worldly or transcendent careers depending on their aspiration. If we direct our ambition to the essence of life, we strive to emerge from birth and death; if we direct our ambition to fame and fortune, we plunge further into the cycle of birth and death. My teacher once said, “This vast ocean of wisdom transforms into an ocean of karmic birth and death. The gemlike, brilliant wondrous nature, once obscured, becomes the karmic nature of greed, anger, ignorance, and pride.” From this view, since the source of the true and unreal are not two, if greed, anger, and ignorance lead us into birth and death, then we can also use greed, anger, and ignorance to emerge from birth and death.

There is a proverb: “If one lacks the capacity for vengeance, one is no true gentleman; if one lacks fierceness, one is no real man.” In my own daily reflections, I often ponder how Gou Jian, bearing the disgrace of Huiji, vowed revenge upon the state of Wu, sleeping on firewood and tasting bile for over twenty years, never dressing in layered finery or eating lavish foods, until at last he conquered Wu and claimed dominance. We who practice the Way should look at our countless lifetimes of birth and death, enduring captivity and disgrace in the prison of the Three Realms. Surely, this far surpasses the shame of Huiji. The greed, anger, ignorance, and pride that rob us of our wondrous nature, that overthrow our nirvāṇa-home, are far greater enemies than the Wu state was to Gou Jian. And yet, we remain content as though savoring sweet candy, frolicking and amusing ourselves amid these defilements, never feeling an ounce of shame or resentment—this is indeed the most profound ignorance of our own real basis. How can we fancy ourselves as great heroes? Beryu, you have a resolve for this; it is time to grit your teeth and do something about it.

Original Text (Paragraph 2):

「示欧生伯羽

尝谓一切圣凡靡。不皆以志愿成就世出世业。是知吾人有志于性命者。志出生死。有志于功名富贵者。志入生死也。吾师有言。广大智海。变而为生死业海。宝明妙性昧。而为贪瞋痴慢生死之业性。由是观之。吾人之性。真妄之源既已不二。苟知由贪瞋痴而入生死。即可用贪瞋痴而出生死矣。谚语有之。恨小非君子。无毒不丈夫。余居常每念勾践因会稽之耻。志复吴仇。乃卧薪尝胆二十余年。衣不重彩。食不重味。竟灭吴以霸。吾学道人。视历劫生死。幽囚困辱于三界牢狱。岂直会稽之耻。贪瞋痴慢。夺吾妙性之光。破我涅槃之宅。岂直吴仇。吾人怡然如饴。而与之嬉戏游宴于其间。略无惭耻奋恨之心。可谓大不知本矣。其自视也。可称大丈夫哉。伯羽有志于此。当为切齿。」

English Translation (Paragraph 3)

Instruction to Mr. Feng Wenru (Gengzi Year)

For those who learn the Way, the foremost task is to raise a firm, far-reaching aspiration—extending up to the very exhaustion of one’s present life, and even into three or five or ten lifetimes, or a hundred, thousand, or myriad lifetimes, or countless kalpas—constantly upholding a resolute vow to realize awakening. If in this very mind we cannot awaken, then we vow not to rest, even if we descend into the hells or the three evil destinies, or are born within furnace wombs or the bodies of horses. We swear never to abandon this unwavering aspiration to become a Buddha, nor ever let suffering sway our faith in the present.

Suppose someone sets forth on a journey of ten thousand li, determined to reach a specific destination. On the day they leave home, they take their first step and continue onward until they enter through that distant gate. Only when they see face to face the person they seek—sitting together, fully and intimately at ease, forgetting their very selves—do they cease. This is what we call a person of firm resolve. Without such clarity and decisiveness, we might claim to start traveling but keep looking back at the many attachments behind us. Perhaps we waver or procrastinate, saying we’ll go yet never truly going; or, if a friend with considerable influence urges us along, we climb a short distance on the road, but become distracted by the passing amusements of music and dancing or the lure of wealth and pleasure, forgetting entirely we had set out at all, drifting aimlessly with no clue of where to go; or encountering adversity along the way, lacking provisions, falling ill, or losing energy, we become mired in untold misery. Or, nearing our destination, we might still be deceived by some rumor or obstacle, turning back at the critical moment. All these amount to wasted effort, never truly reaching the end. This results from not settling one’s mind from the very outset.

If one behaves thus in the pursuit of even a small measure of worldly fame or achievement, one is unlikely to succeed—how much more so with respect to the supreme Buddha-dharma, solving birth and death, and realizing bodhi? Hence it is said: The Buddha’s Way is infinitely far-reaching. One must endure long hardships before success is possible—how could we expect shortcuts or quick achievements? Nonetheless, once we have such an unwavering aspiration, we further need a genuinely correct view. If our view is not genuine, then the aspiration we have set is in the wrong direction, and the path we take is likewise misapplied—further wasted effort.

We who seek the Way, having formed this aspiration, must steadfastly believe that our own mind is innately Buddha—primordially pure, lacking any object, primordially radiant, vast, and without bounds. The reason we cannot enjoy it right now in our daily lives is simply that illusory reflections remain—the four elements confine us, and subtle deluded thoughts float in, obstructing us so deeply that we cannot break through. Indeed, this “lock” on birth and death extends across immeasurable eons. When we know this mind and trust it without doubt, we must vow to awaken in this present life. Today’s vow is the first step of the journey. Today, receiving direct guidance from a good teacher is the impetus that sets us on our way. But once we are on the road, encountering all manner of experiences—whatever hardships or hindrances, whether we delay or press forward, whether we cling or retreat—these are all for us alone to weigh carefully in our own footsteps. They are not something a teacher can provide.

Wenru, since you do have such aspiration, raise your eyebrows in determination and look beneath your feet: that very first step out the door.

Original Text (Paragraph 3):

「示冯生文孺(庚子)

学道人第一要发决定长远之志。乃至尽此形寿。以极三生五生十生百生千生万生。以至劫劫生生直是一定以悟为期。若不悟此心决定不休。纵然堕落地狱三途。或经炉胎马腹。誓愿不舍此决定成佛之志。亦不以苦故退失今日之信心。譬如有人发心。有万里之行。决定以所至之处为的。从今日出门发足一步。直至入彼所至之门。亲彼所求之人。以至升堂入室。与之交欢浃洽。以极忘形而后已。如此方称有决定志也。苟无此判然决定之志。只说出门要去。回顾目前。种种所爱放不下。或因循延挨。口去心不去。或者幸有亲朋大力之人。促发出门。及乎上了路头。悠悠荡荡。或遇歌管队里。富贵场中。贪恋耳目近玩。忘却未出门的念头。邈然不知所向往。或中道缘差。撞遇恶友恶缘。弄得囊空资竭。加之疾病缠绵。进退回惶。生无量苦。或身体疲顿。久沐风霜不柰劳苦。便生退还之念。或将近及门。遇见一机一境一事之差。或讹言误听以为实。使其将见而不及见其人。临门而不得入其室。如此者举皆枉费辛勤。终无实到究竟之地盖缘初发心时。无决定志耳。苟如此欲作世间小小功名事业。亦不能成。何况无上佛道。了死生。证菩提乎。故曰。佛道长远。久受勤苦。乃可得成。岂可取近效。求速就哉。虽然如是。有决定之志。更须要真实之见。若知见不真。志其所不当志行其所不当行。亦更枉用工矣。吾人求道既有此志。须要的信自心。当体是佛。本来清净无物。本来光明广大。如此所以日用现前不得受用者。只为彼此幻妄。四大拘蔽。介尔妄想浮心遮障。难得透彻。过此生死关捩子。不啻若干生万劫之远也。吾人既知此心。谛信不疑。今日发心。定要以悟为期。即从今日发心做工夫。便是出门第一步。今日亲承善知识开导。便是促发之者。至其促发上路。途中种种境界。种种辛勤。种种迟回。留连不留连。退惰不退惰。皆在学人自己脚跟底本分上忖量。皆非善知识所可与也。冯生文孺。有志于此。剔起眉毛。且看脚跟下最初出门一步。」

English Translation (Paragraph 4)

Instruction to Mr. Zeng Liu Fu (Renyin Year)

The sage’s mind works like a mirror: it neither takes nor refuses, leaving no trace of coming or going, responding to myriad things from the utmost emptiness. As Laozi said, “Without stepping out the door, one knows the world.” How could discursive thinking, cunning calculation, or intellectual contrivances accomplish this? Such is the grand impartiality that marks the sage’s mind. In all ages, among those who rely on cleverness and contrivance, thinking their mental grasp extends everywhere, it only leads them to adorn illusions and deceive themselves. Their mind’s radiance is not yet revealed, their fundamental essence still obscure, caught in the net of ignorance and deluded thinking, yet they think themselves the ultimate in intelligence—like fireflies struggling against the bright sun.

Mr. Zeng, you have resolved to walk the Way: let this be your spur to diligence.

Original Text (Paragraph 4):

「示曾生六符(壬寅)

圣人用心如镜。不将不迎。来无所粘。去无踪迹。以其至虚而应万有也。故老子有言。不出户知天下。岂妄想思虑机变智巧揣摩所能及哉。所谓廓然大公。圣人之心也。古今智巧机变之士。自谓思无不致。智不可及。故饰智自愚。是心光未透。本体未明。堕于无明妄想网中。而将以为智大。若持萤火而与赫日争光也。曾生志道。当以此自勉。」

English Translation (Paragraph 5)

Instruction to the Attendant Zan

The attendant Zhenzan painted a small portrait of me, burned incense, bowed, and asked for some Dharma words. The old man (Hanshan) immediately snatched up his staff and chased him away, saying: “You attend me morning and night, yet you still fail to awaken a sense of reverence—so why draw a likeness on paper and treat that as a model for emulation? You often personally hear the Dharma teachings, like a spring breeze passing through your ears—why would you rely on some words written on paper as a guiding rule? You left home to seek liberation from worldly appearances, yet you have not decisively undertaken the path of renunciation—so is your monastic life truly for the sake of birth and death?

“In your own mind, lost in delusion, you chase outward objects, not understanding that stopping the mad mind is the essential key to becoming a Buddha. You cling to illusions and regard them as realities, mistaking shadows for heads, with no way out. Even if I, the old man, sit within your very chest, you would merely see me as a kind of feverish hallucination. The Buddha said, ‘If the mad mind does not cease, one cannot attain bodhi; if it does cease, then one does attain bodhi.’ The pure and radiant mind at its highest is not acquired from outside. If you can truly do this, then you may be said to be practicing while seated, without needing to pay visits to teachers widely, and you can directly enter infinite dharma gates. This is called aligning yourself with the nature of awareness. Why then cling to an external portrait of the old man?

“Reflect: in the twenty-four hours of the day, aside from putting on clothes and eating food, meeting guests, greeting others, turning about, bowing, chatting casually—what is actually your original face? Delve into that, and I will grant you a glimpse of one hair from my eyebrow. Otherwise, we may be face to face, yet a thousand li apart.”

Original Text (Paragraph 5):

「示赞侍者

侍者真赞。写余小像。焚香作礼。请说法语。老人蓦拈拄杖趁之曰。尔朝夕执侍。尚不自知生尊重想。又何以纸墨画像为师范乎。每亲闻法教。如春风度耳。又何以纸上陈言为准则乎。尔自发心出家。求出离相。而不决志修远离行。果真出家。实为生死乎。尔自心痴迷。向外驰求。不知顿歇狂心。为成佛秘要。区区执幻妄为真实。迷头认影。了无出期。即老人坐向汝胸中。尔亦作热病想耳。佛言。狂心不歇。歇即菩提。胜净明心。本非外得。果能如此。可称坐参。不劳遍礼知识。自入无量法门也。是则名为随顺觉性。又何以包裹老人为。尔自思惟。二六时中。除却穿衣吃饭。迎宾待客。折旋俯仰。咳唾掉臂。杂谈戏论处。如何是自己本来面目。者里参透。许汝觑见老人一茎眉其或未然。对面千里。」

English Translation (Paragraph 6)

Instruction to Mingzhe Chán Practitioner

Four years had passed since I was exiled; it was the summer of the Jihai year. I was explaining my newly annotated commentary on the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra at the Qingmen Hermitage in Wuyang, a lodging place for travelers. You traveled thousands of li to consult me in this pestilent region. Observing your cautious and sincere manner, I appointed you to manage the monastic dining hall, intending to have you learn how to recognize the three virtues and apply the six harmonies, to unify your mind and cultivate myriad wholesome practices. You fully complied, working diligently for more than half a year. However, you fell ill from miasma, your system infiltrated by toxic fumes, such that your four elements grew unbalanced and you could no longer manage the tasks. You thus requested to cross back north of the passes to find a healthier place to rest.

At that time, I exhorted you: “Is your hardship or peace determined by a given place, your life or death by ‘here’ or ‘there’? We fail to realize that the four elements are provisional borrowings, that suffering and joy are illusions, that birth and death are but dusk and dawn. Nor do we see that mind is the source of all evils, body the root of all anguish. Failing to understand, we take illusions for realities, letting them carry us in endless circles. It is like a man dreaming he is on a perilous path, terror-stricken and flustered, desperate to escape but unable. Overcome by distress, no relief is possible, so he loses hope and sinks further. If he could muster an outcry and suddenly leap up, fully awake, that earlier sorrow and suffering would become a laughing matter. Once awake, how different is it from his anxious search for a way out in the dream?

“Likewise, your present pains and moans, seeking or avoiding, are dreamlike illusions. You fail to cry out and wake up on your own; I try to call loudly to arouse you, yet you do not recognize it. If you persist in a vast and unbroken night of delusion, can there be a dawn of clarity in sight? Why remain so attached to illusions, calling them real dwellings in your mind? If you remain unawakened even though beckoned, who else could call to you?

“Alas, it is a long night of ignorance and confusion, and you wish to see the radiant sun of wisdom. Such an encounter as we have today—how extremely rare! Try reflecting on it deeply. Perhaps you will abruptly rouse yourself, turning your head and reversing your thoughts; the emotional barrier of birth and death, abruptly shattered—thus you break free from the dream-like house along the perilous road.”

Original Text (Paragraph 6):

「示明哲禅人

余被放之四年。己亥夏。讲棱伽新疏于五羊之青门旅泊庵。禅人不远数千里。参余于瘴乡。余视其谨悫。命典斋食。且将令知三德而调六和。摄一心而修万行也。禅人唯命是听。勤力半载余矣。适饮瘴烟浸染成疾。自视四大不支。难堪众务。乃乞度岭北。寻乐地以休养辞行。老人因而勉之曰。尔岂以苦乐为异地。死生有彼此哉。殊不知四大为假借。苦乐为幻场。死生为夜旦。亦不知心乃众恶之源。身为众苦之本也。原自迷心为识。执妄为身。颠倒死生。出没苦道。曾不知几千万劫。譬如梦驰险道。怖畏张惶。求脱而不能。欲离而不得。忧愁悲楚。望救无门。疲顿精神。暂息无术。自谓终堕沉沦。尔乃甘心汩没矣。又安知极力而呼。猛然勃跳。而大觉之。则向之悲楚辛酸。皆成笑具。以今既觉。与向之求脱。何异天壤哉。即尔而观。今之病苦呻吟。作去就求脱之想。正若梦中事耳。不能自呼而觉。余为大呼而汝犹不知。是薾然长夜。终无惺眼之时矣。柰何以幻妄而甘苦辛。认梦想而为真宅。今既遇呼而不觉。舍此而谁又呼之耶。嗟嗟。蒙冥颠倒长夜。欲求睹慧日之光。如今日之缘者。难之难矣。尔试思之。忽然猛省。回头转脑。生死情关。顿然迸裂。便是破梦宅出险道之时也。」

English Translation (Paragraph 7)

Instruction to Shu Zhong’an Chán Practitioner Who Plans to Reside on a Mountain

Shu Zhong, a Chán practitioner, intends to build a small hut in the Southern Ridge (Nanyue). He asks for teachings on the essentials of mountain seclusion. The old man (Hanshan) instructs him:

“In truth, the Way does not rely on a particular mountain. Yet if you plan to reside on a mountain, you must first see the Way. If, upon seeing the Way, you become attached to the mountain and forget the Way, then the mountain itself becomes an obstacle to your roots of insight. If you have not yet seen the Way and believe that living on a mountain will enable you to see it, you should know that the Way fundamentally abides nowhere—so what do you hope to gain by ‘residing’? Where do you seek the Way, and what is this mountain you wish to reside on?

“You mistakenly regard ‘mountain’ as only the literal, external mountain, not recognizing that in daily life, each moment of body and mind, each situation, is itself a ‘mountain.’ The teachings say that we are oppressed by the Four Mountains of birth, old age, sickness, and death. The Five Skandhas are likewise mountains. So is the personal self; so is nirvāṇa; indeed, so is the mind that is nirvāṇa. Our five skandhas—this body and mind—form the pit of birth, old age, sickness, and death. The Sanskrit term ‘nirvāṇa’ translates as ‘empty quiescence.’ Illusory body, illusory mind, and the illusory world are all unsettled illusions. Since truth and the unreal are nondual, movement and stillness are all equally thus. Yet because some are awakened and others deluded, the sages and the ordinary show distinction. For the deluded, nirvāṇa turns to birth and death. For the awakened, one attains nirvāṇa amidst the realm of birth and death. But realizing that the aggregates (the ‘mountain’ of self) have from the outset been the abiding place of nirvāṇa is to see that all beings—saintly or ordinary—experience birth and death within those illusions. When have they not lived on that ‘mountain’? So why do you now speak of wanting to dwell there?

“If a person chooses mountain seclusion out of personal likes and dislikes, acceptance or rejection, hoping it will help them enter the Way, it is like fleeing a flood only to fall into a fire. As it is said, ‘I wish to escape, yet nowhere is free; all is encompassed by the Vast Whole.’ Also, ‘If the frantic mind is not stilled, stilling itself is bodhi.’ The key to entering the Way is solely that you still the mad mind, dissolve seeing and hearing, sever knowledge and understanding, forget subject and object, and rest from right and wrong—letting the mind abide in empty quiescence. It has nothing to do with physically hiding in mountains or valleys, feasting and sleeping at will, indulging laziness, or inflating your conceit of self. Such behaviors are not the wondrous aspect of the Way.

“In Sanskrit, ‘Dhūta’ (頭陀) means ‘shaking off,’ meaning you shake off the guest dust of afflictions. Simply put, cleaning and purifying your own mind—this is the path of all Buddhas. May you strive diligently at it.”

Original Text (Paragraph 7):

「示舒中安禅人住山

舒中禅人。将诛茆南岳。请益山居法要。老人因示之曰。夫道不在山。而居山必先见道。见山忘道。山即障根见道忘山。触目随缘。无非是道。此古德名言。永嘉之谛训也。子今志欲居山。是见道而后居耶。是居之而后见道耶。若见道而后居。居则有住。住则道非真道。若欲居山而后见道。道本无住。住则道不在山也。子将以何为道。而又何所居也。子徒以山为山。殊不知日用现前。身心境界皆山也。教云。生老病死四山所逼。又云五蕴山。又云人我山。又云涅槃山。然涅槃心也。人我境也。五蕴身心。乃生老病死之窟穴也。梵语涅槃。此云寂灭。幻妄身心境界。总属动乱。原其本致。则真妄不二。动静皆如。但以迷悟之分。故有圣凡之别。迷之则涅槃而成生死。悟之则生死而证涅槃。是知五蕴人我之山。元是涅槃安宅也。斯则一切圣凡出生入死。未尝不居此山。而子之寝处长夜于此久矣。夫何今欲居之耶。若以欣厌取舍。为入道之资。是犹避溺而投火也。故曰。我欲逃之逃不得。大方之外皆充塞。又曰。狂心不歇。歇即菩提。入道之要。唯在歇狂心。泯见闻。绝知解。忘能所。息是非。寂灭此心。政不在逃形山谷。饱食横眠。恣懒怠。长我慢。为道妙也。梵语头陀。此云抖擞。以其能抖擞客尘烦恼耳。但净其心。是诸佛道。子其勉之。」

Footnotes/Annotations

• Signless (無相): Translated here as “signless,” following the user’s instructions, unless referring to formless realms.

• Nature of awareness (覺性): Typically refers to one’s innately awakened mind.

• Empty quiescence (空寂): Indicates that all phenomena are fundamentally empty (空) and still (寂), beyond arising and ceasing.

• Dhūta (頭陀): A Sanskrit term referring to austere practices that “shake off” mental defilements or karmic dust.

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