The Cucumber Sage

The Cucumber Sage
THE RECORD OF THE LIFE AND TEACHINGS OF WU-MING


Compiled by Master Tung-Wang
Abbott of Han-hsin monastery in the
Thirteenth year of the Earth Dragon period (898)


My dear friend, the most reverend master Tung-Wang,

Old and ill, I lay here knowing that writing this note will be my last
act upon this earth and that by the time you read it I will be gone
from this life.

Though we have not seen each other in the many years since we studied
together under our most venerable Master, I have often thought of you,
his most worthy successor. Monks from throughout China say that you are
a true lion of the Buddha Dharma; one whose eye is a shooting star,
whose hands snatch lightning, and whose voice booms like thunder. It is
said that your every action shakes heaven and earth and causes the
elephants and dragons of delusion to scatter helplessly. I am told that
your monastery is unrivaled in severity, and that under your exacting
guidance hundreds of monks pursue their training with utmost zeal and
vigor. I've also heard that in the enlightened successor department
your luck has not been so good. Which brings me to the point of this
letter.

I ask that you now draw your attention to the young man to whom this
note is attached. As he stands before you, no doubt smiling stupidly as
he stuffs himself with pickled cucumbers, you may be wondering if he is
as complete a fool as he appears, and if so, what prompted me to send
him to you. In answer to the first question, I assure you that
Wu-Ming's foolishness is far more complete than mere appearance would
lead you to believe. As for the second question, I can only say that
despite so benumbed a condition, or perhaps because of it, still more
likely, despite of and because of it, Wu-Ming seems to unwittingly and
accidentally serve the function of a great Bodhisattva. Perhaps he can
be of service to you.

Allow him sixteen hours of sleep daily and provide him with lots of
pickled cucumbers and Wu-Ming will always be happy. Expect nothing of
him and you will be happy.

Respectfully, Chin-Mang

After Chin-mang's funeral, the supporters of his temple arranged for
Wu-Ming's journey to Han-hsin monastery, where I resided, then, as now,
as Abbott. A monk found Wu-ming at the monastery gate and seeing a note
bearing my name pinned to his robe, led him to my quarters.

Customarily, when first presenting himself to the Abbott, a newly
arrived monk will prostrate himself three times and ask respectfully to
be accepted as a student. And so I was taken somewhat by surprise when
Wu-ming walked into the room, took a pickled cucumber from the jar
under his arm, stuffed it whole into his mouth, and happily munching
away, broke into the toothless imbecilic grin that would one day become
legendary. Taking a casual glance around the room, he smacked his lips
loudly and said, "What's for lunch?"

After reading dear old Chin Mang's note, I called in the head monk and
asked that he show my new student to the monk's quarters. When they had
gone I reflected on chin-mang's words. Han-hsin was indeed a most
severe place of training: winters were bitterly cold and in summer the
sun blazed. The monks slept no more than three hours each night and ate
one simple meal each day. For the remainder of the day they worked hard
around the monastery and practiced hard in the meditation hall. But,
alas, Chin-mang had heard correctly, Among all my disciples there was
none whom I felt confident to be a worthy vessel to receive the
untransmittable transmitted Dharma. I was beginning to despair that I
would one day, bereft of even one successor, fail to fulfill my
obligation of seeing my teacher's Dharma-linage continued.

The monks could hardly be faulted for complacency or indolence. Their
sincere aspiration and disciplined effort were admirable indeed, and
many had attained great clarity of wisdom. But they were preoccupied
with their capacity for harsh discipline and proud of their insight.
They squabbled with one another for positions of prestige and power and
vied amongst themselves for recognition. Jealousy, rivalry and ambition
seemed to hang like a dark cloud over Han-shin monastery, sucking even
the most wise and sincere into its obscuring haze. Holding Chin-mang's
note before me, I hoped and prayed that this Wu-ming, this "accidental
Bodhisattva" might be the yeast my recipe seemed so much in need of.

To my astonished pleasure, Wu-ming took to life at Han-shin like a duck
to water. At my request, he was assigned a job in the kitchen pickling
vegetables. This he pursued tirelessly, and with a cheerful earnestness
he gathered and mixed ingredients, lifted heavy barrels, drew and
carried water, and, of course, freely sampled his workmanship. He was
delighted!

When the monks assembled in the meditation hall, they would invariably
find Wu-ming seated in utter stillness, apparently in deep and profound
samadhi. No one even guessed that the only thing profound about
Wu-ming's meditation was the profound unlikelihood that he might find
the meditation posture, legs folded into the lotus position, back erect
and centered, to be so wonderfully conducive to the long hours of sleep
he so enjoyed.

Day after day and month after month, as the monks struggled to meet the
physical and spiritual demands of monastery life, Wu-ming, with a grin
and a whistle, sailed through it all effortlessly. Even though, if the
truth be told, Wu-ming's Zen practice was without the slightest merit,
by way of outward appearance he was judged by all to be a monk of great
accomplishment and perfect discipline. Of course . I could have
dispelled this misconception easily enough, but I sensed that Wu-ming's
unique brand of magic was taking effect and I was not about to throw
away this most absurdly skillful of means.

By turns the monks were jealous, perplexed, hostile, humbled and
inspired by what they presumed to be Wu-ming's great attainment. Of
course it never occurred to Wu-ming that his or anyone else's behavior
required such judgments, for they are the workings of a far more
sophisticated nature than his own mind was capable. Indeed, everything
about him was so obvious and simple that others thought him
unfathomably subtle.

Wu-ming's inscrutable presence had a tremendously unsettling effect on
the lives of the monks, and undercut the web of rationalizations that
so often accompanies such upset. His utter obviousness rendered him
unintelligible and immune to the social pretensions of others. Attempts
of flattery and invectives alike were met with the same uncomprehending
grin, a grin the monks felt to be the very cutting edge of the sword of
Perfect Wisdom. Finding no relief or diversion in such interchange,
they were forced to seek out the source and resolution of their anguish
each within his own mind. More importantly, and absurdly, Wu-ming
caused to arise in the monks the unconquerable determination to fully
penetrate the teaching "The Great Way is without difficulty" which they
felt he embodied.

Though in the course of my lifetime I have encountered many of the most
venerable progenitors of the Tathagata's teaching, never have I met one
so skilled at awakening others to their intrinsic Buddhahood as this
wonderful fool Wu-ming. His spiritual non-sequiturs were as sparks,
lighting the flame of illuminating wisdom in the minds of many who
engaged him in dialogue.

Once a monk approached Wu-ming and asked in all earnestness, "In the
whole universe, what is it that is most wonderful?" Without hesitation
Wu-ming stuck a cucumber before the monks face and exclaimed, "There is
nothing more wonderful than this!" At that the monk crashed through the
dualism of subject and object, "The whole universe is pickled cucumber;
a pickled cucumber is the whole universe!" Wu-ming simply chuckled and
said, "Stop talking nonsense. A cucumber is a cucumber; the whole
universe is the whole universe. What could be more obvious?" The monk,
penetrating the perfect phenomenal manifestation of Absolute Truth,
clapped his hands and laughed, saying, "Throughout infinite space,
everything is deliciously sour!"

On another occasion a monk asked Wu-ming, "The Third Patriarch said,
"The Great Way is without difficulty, just cease having preferences."
How can you then delight in eating cucumbers, yet refuse to even take
one bit of a carrot?" Wu-ming said, "I love cucumbers; I hate carrots!"
The monk lurched back as though struck by a thunderbolt. Then laughing
and sobbing and dancing about he exclaimed, "Liking cucumbers and
hating carrots is without difficulty, just cease preferring the Great
Way!"

Within three years of his arrival, the stories of the "Great
Bodhisattva of Han-hsin monastery" had made their way throughout the
provinces of China. Knowing of Wu-ming's fame I was not entirely
surprised when a messenger from the Emperor appeared summoning Wu-ming
to the Imperial Palace immediately.

From throughout the Empire exponents of the Three Teachings of
Buddhism, Confucianism and Taoism were being called to the Capitol,
there the Emperor would proclaim one to be the true religion to be
practiced and preached in all lands under his rule. The idea of such
competition for Imperial favor is not to my approval and the likelihood
that a religious persecution might follow troubled me greatly. But an
order from the Emperor is not to be ignored, so Wu-ming and I set out
the next day.

Inside the Great Hall were gathered the more than one hundred priests
and scholars who were to debate one another. They were surrounded by
the most powerful lords in all China, along with innumerable advisors,
of the Son of Heaven. All at once trumpets blared, cymbals crashed, and
clouds of incense billowed up everywhere. The Emperor, borne on by a
retinue of guards, was carried to the throne. After due formalities
were observed the Emperor signaled for the debate to begin.

Several hours passed as one after another priests and scholars came
forward presenting their doctrines and responding to questions. Through
it all Wu-ming sat obliviously content as he stuffed himself with his
favorite food. When his supply was finished, he happily crossed his
legs, straightened his back and closed his eyes. But the noise and
commotion were too great and, unable to sleep, he grew more restless
and irritable by the minute. As I clasped him firmly by the back of the
neck in an effort to restrain him, the Emperor gestured to Wu-ming to
approach the Throne.

When Wu-ming had come before him, the Emperor said, "Throughout the
land you are praised as a Bodhisattva whose mind is like the Great Void
itself, yet you have not had a word to offer this assembly. Therefore I
say to you now, teach me the True Way that all under heaven must
follow." Wu-ming said nothing. After a few moments the Emperor, with a
note of impatience, spoke again, "Perhaps you do not hear well so I
shall repeat myself! Teach me the True Way that all under heaven must
follow!" Still Wu-ming said nothing, and silence rippled through the
crowd as all strained forward to witness this monk who dared behave so
bold a fashion in the Emperor's presence.

Wu-ming heard nothing the Emperor said, nor did he notice the tension
that vibrated through the hall. All that concerned him was his wish to
find a nice quiet place where he could sleep undisturbed. The Emperor
spoke again, his voice shaking with fury, his face flushed with anger:
"You have been summoned to this council to speak on behalf of the
Buddhist teaching. Your disrespect will not be tolerated much longer. I
shall ask one more time, and should you fail to answer, I assure you
the consequence shall be most grave. Teach me the True Way that all
under heaven must follow!" Without a word Wu-ming turned and, as all
looked on in dumbfounded silence, he made his way down the aisle and
out the door. There was a hush of stunned disbelief before the crowd
erupted into an uproar of confusion. Some were applauding Wu-ming's
brilliant demonstration of religious insight, while others rushed about
in an indignant rage, hurling threats and abuses at the doorway he had
just passed through. Not knowing whether to praise Wu-ming or to have
him beheaded, the Emperor turned to his advisors, but they were none
the wiser. Finally, looking out at the frantic anarchy to which his
grand debate had been reduced, the Emperor must surely have realized
that no matter what Wu-ming's intentions might have been, there was now
only one way to avoid the debate becoming a most serious embarrassment.

"The great sage of Han-hsin monastery has skillfully demonstrated that
the great Tao cannot be confined by doctrines, but is best expounded
through harmonious action. Let us profit by the wisdom he has so
compassionately shared, and each endeavor to make our every step one
that unites heaven and earth in accord with the profound and subtle
Tao."

Having thus spoken the Son of Heaven concluded the Great Debate.

I immediately ran out to find Wu-ming, but he had disappeared in the crowded streets of the capitol.

Ten years have since passed, and I have seen nothing of him. However,
on occasion a wandering monk will stop at Han-hsin with some bit of
news. I am told that Wu-ming has been wandering about the countryside
this past decade, trying unsuccessfully to find his way home. Because
of his fame he is greeted and cared for in all quarters with generous
kindness; however, those wishing to help him on his journey usually
find that they have been helped on their own.

One young monk told of an encounter in which Wu-ming asked him, "Can
you tell me where my home is?" Confused as to the spirit of the
question. The monk replied, "Is the home you speak of to be found in
the relative world of time and place, or do you mean the Original Home
of all pervading Buddha nature?"

After pausing a moment to consider the question, Wu-ming looked up and, grinning as only he is capable, said, "Yes."

i loved reading this...thankyou Drolma !!!!!

_/\_