by Unknown
When the Patriarch heard this, he was secretly pleased, and said, “Well, evidently you have been created by Heaven and Earth. Get up and show me how you walk.” Snapping erect, the Monkey King scurried around a couple of times. The Patriarch laughed and said, “Though your features are not the most attractive, you do resemble a pignolia-eating monkey (husun). This gives me the idea of taking a surname for you from your appearance. I intended to call you by the name Hu. If I drop the animal radical from this word, what’s left is a compound made up of the two characters, gu and yue. Gu means aged and yue means female, but an aged female cannot reproduce. Therefore, it is better to give you the surname of Sun. If I drop the animal radical from this word, what we have left is the compound of zi and xi. Zi means a boy and xi means a baby, and that name exactly accords with the fundamental Doctrine of the Baby Boy. So your surname will be ‘Sun.’”
When the Monkey King heard this, he was filled with delight. “Splendid! Splendid!” he cried, kowtowing, “At last I know my surname. May the master be even more gracious! Since I have received the surname, let me be given also a personal name, so that it may facilitate your calling and commanding me.” The Patriarch said, “Within my tradition are twelve characters that have been used to name the pupils according to their divisions. You are one who belongs to the tenth generation.” “Which twelve characters are they?” asked the Monkey King. The Patriarch replied, “They are: wide (guang), great (da), wise (zhi), intelligence (hui), true (zhen), conforming (ru), nature (xing), sea (hai), sharp (ying), wake- to (wu), complete (yuan), and awakening (jue). Your rank falls precisely on the word ‘wake-to’ (wu). You will hence be given the religious name ‘Wake-to-the-Void’ (wukong). All right?” “Splendid! Splendid!” said the Monkey King, laughing. “Henceforth I shall be called Sun Wukong.” So it was that,
At nebula’s parting he had no name.
Smashing stubborn void needs Wake-to-the-Void.
We do not know what fruit of Daoist cultivation he succeeded in attaining afterward; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
TWO
Fully awoke to Bodhi’s wondrous truths;
He cuts off Māra, returns to the root, and joins Primal Spirit.1
Now we were speaking of the Handsome Monkey King, who, having received his name, jumped about joyfully and went forward to give Subodhi his grateful salutation. The Patriarch then ordered the congregation to lead Sun Wukong outdoors and to teach him how to sprinkle water on the ground and dust, and how to speak and move with proper courtesy. The company of immortals obediently went outside with Wukong, who then bowed to his fellow students. They prepared thereafter a place in the corridor where he might sleep. Next morning he began to learn from his schoolmates the arts of language and etiquette. He discussed with them the scriptures and the doctrines; he practiced calligraphy and burned incense. Such was his daily routine. In more leisurely moments he would be sweeping the grounds or hoeing the garden, planting flowers or pruning trees, gathering firewood or lighting fires, fetching water or carrying drinks. He did not lack for whatever he needed, and thus he lived in the cave without realizing that six or seven years had slipped by. One day the Patriarch ascended the platform and took his high seat. Calling together all the immortals, he began to lecture on a great doctrine. He spoke
With words so florid and eloquent
That gold lotus sprang up from the ground.
The doctrine of three vehicles he subtly rehearsed,2
Including even the laws’ minutest tittle.
The yak’s-tail3 waved slowly and spouted elegance:
His thunderous voice moved e’en the Ninth Heaven.
For a while he lectured on Dao;
For a while he spoke on Chan—
To harmonize the Three Parties4 is a natural thing.
One word’s elucidation filled with truth
Points to the birthless showing nature’s mystery.
Wukong, who was standing there and listening, was so pleased with the talk that he scratched his ear and rubbed his jaw. Grinning from ear to ear, he could not refrain from dancing on all fours! Suddenly the Patriarch saw this and called out to him, “Why are you madly jumping and dancing in the ranks and not listening to my lecture?” Wukong said, “Your pupil was devoutly listening to the lecture. But when I heard such wonderful things from my reverend master, I couldn’t contain myself for joy and started to leap and prance about quite unconsciously. May the master forgive my sins!”
“Let me ask you,” said the Patriarch, “if you comprehend these wonderful things, do you know how long you have been in this cave?” Wukong said, “Your pupil is basically feeble-minded and does not know the number of seasons. I only remember that whenever the fire burned out in the stove, I would go to the back of the mountain to gather firewood. Finding a mountainful of fine peach trees there, I have eaten my fill of peaches seven times.” The Patriarch said, “That mountain is named the Ripe Peach Mountain. If you have eaten your fill seven times, I suppose it must have been seven years. What kind of Daoist art would you like to learn from me?” Wukong said, “I am dependent on the admonition of my honored teacher. Your pupil would gladly learn whatever has a smidgen of Daoist flavor.”
The Patriarch said, “Within the tradition of Dao, there are three hundred and sixty heteronomous divisions, all the practices of which may result in Illumination. I don’t know which division you would like to follow.” “I am dependent on the will of my honored teacher,” said Wukong. “Your pupil is wholeheartedly obedient.” “How would it be,” said the Patriarch, “if I taught you the practice of the Method division?” Wukong asked, “How would you explain the practice of the Method division?” “The practice of the Method division,” said the Patriarch, “consists of summoning immortals and working the planchette, of divination by manipulating yarrow stalks, and of learning the secrets of pursuing good and avoiding evil.” “Can this sort of practice lead to immortality?” asked Wukong. “Impossible! Impossible!” said the Patriarch. “I won’t learn it then,” Wukong said.
“How would it be,” said the Patriarch again, “if I taught you the practice of the Schools division?” “What is the meaning of the Schools division?” asked Wukong. “The Schools division,” the Patriarch said, “includes the Confucians, the Buddhists, the Daoists, the Dualists, the Mohists, and the Physicians. They read scriptures or recite prayers; they interview priests or conjure up saints and the like.” “Can this sort of practice lead to immortality?” asked Wukong. The Patriarch said, “If immortality is what you desire, this practice is like setting a pillar inside a wall.” Wukong said, “Master, I’m a simple fellow and I don’t know the idioms of the marketplace. What’s setting a pillar inside a wall?” The Patriarch said, “When people build houses and want them to be sturdy, they place a pillar as a prop inside the wall. But someday the big mansion will decay, and the pillar too will rot.” “What you’re saying then,” Wukong said, “is that it is not long-lasting. I’m not going to learn this.”
The Patriarch said, “How would it be if I taught you the practice of the Silence division?” “What’s the aim of the Silence division?” Wukong asked. “To cultivate fasting and abstinence,” said the Patriarch, “quiescence and inactivity, meditation and the art of cross-legged sitting, restraint of language, and a vegetarian diet. There are also the practices of yoga, exercises standing or prostrate, entrance into complete stillness, contemplation in solitary confinement, and the like.” “Can these activities,” asked Wukong, “bring about immortality?” “They are no better than the unfired bricks on the kiln,” said the Patriarch. Wukong laughed and said, “Master indeed loves to beat about the bush! Haven’t I just told you that I don’t know these idioms of the marketplace? What do you mean by the unfired bricks on the kiln?” The Patriarch replied, “The tiles and the bricks on the kiln may have been molded into shape, but if they have not been refined by water and fire, a heavy rain will one day make them crumble.” “So this too lacks permane
nce,” said Wukong. “I don’t want to learn it.”
The Patriarch said, “How would it be if I taught you the practice of the Action division?” “What’s it like in the Action division?” Wukong asked. “Plenty of activities,” said the Patriarch, “such as gathering the yin to nourish the yang, bending the bow and treading the arrow, and rubbing the navel to pass breath. There are also experimentation with alchemical formulas, burning rushes and forging cauldrons, taking red lead, making autumn stone, and drinking bride’s milk and the like.”5 “Can such bring about long life?” asked Wukong. “To obtain immortality from such activities,” said the Patriarch, “is also like scooping the moon from the water.” “There you go again, Master!” cried Wukong. “What do you mean by scooping the moon from the water?” The Patriarch said, “When the moon is high in the sky, its reflection is in the water. Although it is visible therein, you cannot scoop it out or catch hold of it, for it is but an illusion.” “I won’t learn that either!” said Wukong.
When the Patriarch heard this, he uttered a cry and jumped down from the high platform. He pointed the ruler he held in his hands at Wukong and said to him: “What a mischievous monkey you are! You won’t learn this and you won’t learn that! Just what is it that you are waiting for?” Moving forward, he hit Wukong three times on the head. Then he folded his arms behind his back and walked inside, closing the main doors behind him and leaving the congregation stranded outside. Those who were listening to the lecture were so terrified that everyone began to berate Wukong. “You reckless ape!” they cried, “you’re utterly without manners! The master was prepared to teach you magic secrets. Why weren’t you willing to learn? Why did you have to argue with him instead? Now you have offended him, and who knows when he’ll come out again?” At that moment they all resented him and despised and ridiculed him. But Wukong was not angered in the least and only replied with a broad grin. For the Monkey King, in fact, had already solved secretly, as it were, the riddle in the pot; he therefore did not quarrel with the other people but patiently held his tongue. He reasoned that the master, by hitting him three times, was telling him to prepare himself for the third watch; and by folding his arms behind his back, walking inside, and closing the main doors, was telling him to enter by the back door so that he might receive instruction in secret.
Wukong spent the rest of the day happily with the other pupils in front of the Divine Cave of the Three Stars, eagerly waiting for the night. When evening arrived, he immediately retired with all the others, pretending to be asleep by closing his eyes, breathing evenly, and remaining completely still. Since there was no watchman in the mountain to beat the watch or call the hour, he could not tell what time it was. He could only rely on his own calculations by counting the breaths he inhaled and exhaled. Approximately at the hour of Zi,6 he arose very quietly and put on his clothes. Stealthily opening the front door, he slipped away from the crowd and walked outside. Lifting his head, he saw
The bright moon and the cool, clear dew,
Though in each corner not one speck of dust.
Sheltered fowls roosted in the woods;
A brook flowed gently from its source.
Darting fireflies dispersed the gloom.
Wild geese spread word columns through the clouds.
Precisely it was the third-watch hour—
Time to seek the Way whole and true.
You see him following the familiar path back to the rear entrance, where he discovered that the door was, indeed, ajar. Wukong said happily, “The reverend master truly intended to give me instruction. That’s why the door was left open.” He reached the door in a few large strides and entered sideways. Walking up to the Patriarch’s bed, he found him asleep with his body curled up, facing the wall. Wukong dared not disturb him; instead, he knelt before his bed. After a little while, the Patriarch awoke. Stretching his legs, he recited to himself:
“Hard! Hard! Hard!
The Way is most obscure!
Deem not the gold elixir a common thing.
Without a perfect man’s transmiting a subtle rune,
You’d have vain words, worn mouth, and tongue waxed dry!”
“Master,” Wukong responded at once. “Your pupil has been kneeling here and waiting on you for a long time.” When the Patriarch heard Wukong’s voice, he rose and put on his clothes. “You mischievous monkey!” he exclaimed, sitting down cross-legged, “Why aren’t you sleeping in front? What are you doing back here at my place?” Wukong replied, “Before the platform and the congregation yesterday, the master gave the order that your pupil, at the hour of the third watch, should come here through the rear entrance in order that he might be instructed. I was therefore bold enough to come directly to the master’s bed.”
When the Patriarch heard this, he was terribly pleased, thinking to himself, “This fellow is indeed an offspring of Heaven and Earth. If not, how could he solve so readily the riddle in my pot!” “There is no third party here save your pupil,” Wukong said. “May the master be exceedingly merciful and impart to me the way of long life. I shall never forget this gracious favor.” “Since you have solved the riddle in the pot,” said the Patriarch, “it is an indication that you are destined to learn, and I am glad to teach you. Come closer and listen carefully. I will impart to you the wondrous way of long life.” Wukong kowtowed to express his gratitude, washed his ears, and listened most attentively, kneeling before the bed. The Patriarch said:
“This bold, secret saying that’s wondrous and true:
Spare, nurse nature and life—there’s nothing else.
All power resides in the semen, breath, and spirit;
Store these securely lest there be a leak.
Lest there be a leak!
Keep within the body!
Heed my teaching and the Way itself will thrive.
Hold fast oral formulas so useful and keen
To purge concupiscence, to reach pure cool;
To pure cool
Where the light is bright.
You’ll face the elixir platform, enjoying the moon.7
The moon holds the jade rabbit, the sun, the crow;8
The tortoise and snake are now tightly entwined.9
Tightly entwined,
Nature and life are strong.
You can plant gold lotus e’en in the midst of flames.
Squeeze the Five Phases jointly, use them back and forth—10
When that’s done, be a Buddha or immortal at will!”
At that moment, the very origin was disclosed to Wukong, whose mind became spiritualized as blessedness came to him. He carefully committed to memory all the oral formulas. After kowtowing to thank the Patriarch, he left by the rear entrance. As he went out, he saw that
The eastern sky began to pale with light,
But golden beams shone on the Westward Way.
Following the same path, he returned to the front door, pushed it open quietly, and went inside. He sat up in his sleeping place and purposely rustled the bed and the covers, crying, “It’s light! It’s light! Get up!” All the other people were still sleeping and did not know that Wukong had received a good thing. He played the fool that day after getting up, but he persisted in what he had learned secretly by doing breathing exercises before the hour of Zi and after the hour of Wu.11
Three years went by swiftly, and the Patriarch again mounted his throne to lecture to the multitude. He discussed the scholastic deliberations and parables, and he discoursed on the integument of external conduct. Suddenly he asked, “Where’s Wukong?” Wukong drew near and knelt down. “Your pupil’s here,” he said. “What sort of art have you been practicing lately?” the Patriarch asked. “Recently,” Wukong said, “your pupil has begun to apprehend the nature of all things and my foundational knowledge has become firmly established.” “If you have penetrated to the dharma nature to apprehend the origin,” said the Patriarch, “you have, in fact, entered into the divine substance. You need, however, to guard against the danger of t
hree calamities.” When Wukong heard this, he thought for a long time and said, “The words of the master must be erroneous. I have frequently heard that when one is learned in the Way and excels in virtue, he will enjoy the same age as Heaven; fire and water cannot harm him and every kind of disease will vanish. How can there be this danger of three calamities?”
“What you have learned,” said the Patriarch, “is no ordinary magic: you have stolen the creative powers of Heaven and Earth and invaded the dark mysteries of the sun and moon. Your success in perfecting the elixir is something that the gods and the demons cannot countenance. Though your appearance will be preserved and your age lengthened, after five hundred years Heaven will send down the calamity of thunder to strike you. Hence you must be intelligent and wise enough to avoid it ahead of time. If you can escape it, your age will indeed equal that of Heaven; if not, your life will thus be finished. After another five hundred years Heaven will send down the calamity of fire to burn you. That fire is neither natural nor common fire; its name is the Fire of Yin, and it arises from within the soles of your feet to reach even the cavity of your heart, reducing your entrails to ashes and your limbs to utter ruin. The arduous labor of a millennium will then have been made completely superfluous. After another five hundred years the calamity of wind will be sent to blow at you. It is not the wind from the north, south, east, or west; nor is it one of the winds of four seasons; nor is it the wind of flowers, willows, pines, and bamboos. It is called the Mighty Wind, and it enters from the top of the skull into the body, passes through the midriff, and penetrates the nine apertures.12 The bones and the flesh will be dissolved and the body itself will disintegrate. You must therefore avoid all three calamities.”