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羅漢 (地藏) 桂琛 Luohan (Dizang) Guichen (867-928)

(Rōmaji:) Rakan (Jizō) Keijin



Lo-han (Ti-cang) Kuj-csen mondásaiból
Fordította: Terebess Gábor

Lo-han megvilágosulása
Fordította: Rafalszky Katalin

Luohan Guichen "Dizang"
by Andy Ferguson

Translated by Thomas Cleary
In: The five houses of Zen, 1997

The Venerable Zhangzhou Luohan
Translated by Randolph S. Whitfield
In: Records of the Transmission of the Lamp: Volume 3

Dizang Planting the Fields
Dharma Talk by Geoffrey Shugen Arnold, Sensei
Book of Serenity, Case 12


Luohan Guichen, "Dizang"
by Andy Ferguson
In: Zen's Chinese Heritage: The Masters and Their Teachings
Wisdom Publications, 2011, pp.

LUOHAN GUICHEN (867–928) was a disciple of Xuansha Shibei. He came from ancient Changshan (located in what is now Zhejiang Province). Classical records say that from early childhood he could speak very well and would not eat meat. He was ordained at Wansui Temple, located in his home province, under a teacher named Wuxiang. At first he closely followed the teachings of the Vinaya, but later declared that just guarding against breaking the vows and adhering to the precepts did not equal true renunciation. He then set off to explore the teachings of the Zen school.

Dizang first studied with Xuefeng Yicun, but was unsuccessful at penetrating the Way. It was Xuefeng’s disciple, Xuansha, who is said to have brought Dizang to full awakening. The lamp records indicate that when the following exchange between teacher and student occurred, all of Dizang’s doubts were erased.


Xuansha questioned Dizang, saying, “In the three realms there is only mind. How do you understand this?”

Dizang pointed to a chair and said, “What does the master call that?”

Xuansha said, “A chair.”

Dizang said, “Then the master can’t say that in the three worlds there is only mind.”

Xuansha said, “I say that it is made from bamboo and wood. What do you say it’s made from?”

Dizang said, “I also say it’s made from bamboo and wood.”

Xuansha said, “I’ve searched across the great earth for a person who understands the Buddhadharma, but I haven’t found one.”


Xuansha passed on certain esoteric teachings, known as the Samaya, that Dizang promoted throughout his life. Although Dizang did not aspire to a leading position in the Buddhist community, his reputation as an adept nevertheless spread widely. The magistrate of Zhangzhou [now the city of Zhangpu in Fujian Province] established the Dizang [“Earth Store”] Monastery and invited Dizang to become the abbot there.


Dizang entered the hall and addressed the monks, saying, “If you want to come face-to-face with the essential mystery of our order—here it is! There’s no other special thing. If it is something else, then bring it forth and let’s see it. If you can’t show it, then forget about it. You can’t just recite a couple of words and then say that they are the vehicle of our school. How could that be? What two words are they? They are known as the ‘essential vehicle.’ They are the ‘teaching vehicle.’ Just when you say ‘essential vehicle,’ that is the essential vehicle. Speaking the words ‘teaching vehicle’ is itself the teaching vehicle. Worthy practitioners of Zen, our school’s essential vehicle, the Buddhadharma, comes from and is realized through nothing other than the names and words from your own mouths! It is just what you say and do. You come here and use words like ‘tranquillity,’ ‘reality,’ ‘perfection,’ or ‘constancy.’ Worthy practitioners! What is this that you call ‘tranquil’ or ‘real’? What is it that’s ‘perfect’ or ‘constant’? Those of you here on a pilgrimage, you must test the principle of what I’m saying. Let’s be open about it. You’ve stored up a bunch of sounds, forms, names, and words inside your minds. You prattle that ‘I can do this,’ or ‘I’m good at figuring out that,’ but actually what can you do? What can you figure out? All that you’re remembering and holding on to is just sounds and forms. If it weren’t all sounds and forms, names and words, then how would you remember them or figure them out?

“The wind blows and the pine makes a sound. A frog or a duck makes a sound. Why don’t you go and listen to those things and figure them out? If everywhere there are meaningful sounds and forms, then how much meaning can be ascribed to this old monk? There’s no doubt about it. Sounds and forms assault us every moment. Do you directly face them or not? If you face them directly then your diamond-solid concept of self will melt away. How can this be? Because these sounds penetrate your ears and these forms pierce your eyes, you are overwhelmed by conditions. You are killed by delusion. There’s not enough room inside of you for all of these sounds and forms. If you don’t face them directly then how will you manage all of these sounds and forms? Do you understand? Face them or not face them. See for yourself!”

After a pause, Dizang continued, “‘Perfection.’ ‘Constancy.’ ‘Tranquillity.’ ‘Reality.’ Who talks like this? Normal people in the village don’t talk like this. Its just some old sages that talk this way and a few of their wicked disciples that spread it around. So now, you don’t know good from bad, and you are absorbed in ‘perfection’ and ‘reality.’ Some say I don’t possess the mysterious excellence of our order’s style. Shakyamuni didn’t have a tongue! Not like you disciples here who are always pointing at your own chests. To speak about killing, stealing, and lewdness is to speak of grave crimes, but they are light by comparison. It’s unending, this vilification of nirvana, this blinding the eyes of beings, this falling in the Avici Hell and swallowing hot iron balls without relief.

“Therefore the ancients said, ‘When the transgression is transformed into the host, it no longer offends.’ Take care!”


A monk asked, “What is Luohan’s single phrase?”

Luohan said, “If I tell you it will turn into two phrases.”


A monk asked, “What is Luohan’s house style?”

Luohan said, “I can’t tell you.”

The monk said, “Why not?”

Luohan said, “Because it’s my house style.”


Zen master Luohan saw a monk approach. He held up his whisk and said, “Do you understand?”

The monk said, “Thank you for your compassionate instruction, Master.”

Luohan said, “You see me raise the whisk and you say I’m instructing you. When you see the mountains and rivers each day, do they not instruct you?”

Another time Luohan saw a monk approaching and held up his whisk. The monk shouted in praise and bowed.

Luohan said, “When you saw me raise the whisk you bowed and shouted. Why is it that when someone holds up a broom you don’t shout in praise?”


Luohan asked a monk, “From where do you come?”

The monk said, “From Zouzhou.”

Luohan said, “What did you bring with you?”

The monk said, “I didn’t bring anything with me.”

Luohan said, “Why are you deceiving people?”

The monk remained silent.

Luohan then asked, “Doesn’t Zouzhou produce parakeets?”

The monk said, “Those are produced in Longzhou.”

Luohan said, “About the same.”


Once, Luohan traveled to the provincial capital with Baofu and Changqing. They saw some discarded peonies by the road.

Baofu said, “What a wonderful bunch of flowers.”

Changqing said, “I’ve never seen such flowers.”

Luohan said, “Too bad. It’s a bunch of flowers.”

([Later,] Xuanjue said, “Was the speech of these three old Zen masters intimate or not? If Luohan spoke like this, to where had he fallen?”)


Upon his death, Dizang received the posthumous title “Zen Master True Response.”




The Venerable Zhangzhou Luohan
In: Records of the Transmission of the Lamp: Volume 3: The Nanyue Huairang Lineage (Books 10-13), The Early Masters.
Translated by Randolph S. Whitfield, Kindle Edition, 2016 (No. 11.254)

The Venerable Luohan of Zhangzhou (Fujian) first came to awakening under the fist of Chan master Guannan and composed a song, ‘In the 7th year of Xiantong (866 CE) I first visited [Guannan] Dao[wu] – coming across his words, didn't understand the words. The ball of foolishness in the heart was like a wicker basket, and for three springs there was no enjoyment of the forests and streams. Then suddenly coming across the Dharma King sitting on the mat, I sincerely presented all my doubts in front of the master. But the master rose forcefully from his mat and baring his arms, delivered a blow with his fist to my chest. Shock dispersed the foolish lump like a wolf falling to the ground, and raising my head, I saw the sun in its wholeness for the first time. From this moment on every step was dignified, right up to today's happy life. Only the belly rumbles from eating heartily, without going east or west to beg for alms.' He also wrote a gatha:

In the house, a guest at leisure
Among people, a boorish monk
Others poke fun of me as they please
Prancing along from place to place
Only myself for company




Translated by Thomas Cleary
In: The five houses of Zen, 1997


DON’T LOWER YOUR HEADS and think; thought cannot reach. If you then say you did not need to be discerning, do you understand enough to express it in words? Where will you begin your speech? Try to tell.

Is there anything that can get you nearer? Is there anything that can get you farther? Is there anything that can make you the same? Is there anything that can make you different? Then why do you particularly go to so much trouble? It is because you are weak and lack character, fretfully guarding the conceptual faculty, afraid that people will question you.

I always say, if you have any enlightenment, then reveal it without any sense of others or self; I will check it for you.

Why do you not accept what is right at hand? Don’t take a puddle for an ocean. Buddhism pervades the universe; don’t make the mistake of subjectively defining knowledge and views in your little heart and drawing the boundaries there. This is perception and cognition, thought and feeling. And yet it is not that this is wrong; but if you nod here and say you’ve found true reality, then you don’t get it.

Now what about the ancient saying “Only I can know”—what perspective is this? Do you know? Is it not, “You see me, I see you”? Don’t misunderstand! If it were this self, the self goes along with birth and death: as long as the body exists, it is there; but when the body is no longer, it is not there. That is why the ancient buddhas said, for the sake of you people of today, difference produces differences; when there is no difference, differences disappear.

Don’t take this lightly; the matter of birth and death is serious. If you don’t evaporate this mass, there will be plenty of discord wherever you are; if you don’t break through sound and form, the same will be so of sensation, perception, conditioning, and consciousness. Even if your bones are sticking out, don’t say that the five clusters are originally void. It does not depend on your claim to have understood emptiness. That is why it is said that you must personally attain penetration, and you have to be genuinely authentic.

I am not the first one to talk like this. The ancient sages have informed you of what they called the indestructible esoteric treasury of inconceivable light. It covers the whole universe, giving birth to the ordinary and nurturing the saintly, pervading all time. Who has none of it? Then who would you depend on anymore?

Thus the buddhas, in their compassion, seeing you helpless, opened up the door of expedient methodology, pointing out the characteristics of true reality. Now I am using expedient method; do you understand? If you do not understand, don’t make up wonders in your conceptual faculty.


Lo-han (Ti-cang) Kuj-csen összegyűjtött mondásaiból
Fordította: Terebess Gábor
Vö.: Folyik a híd, Officina Nova, Budapest, 1990, 101, 110-113. olda

Réber László rajza

– Hogyan fogadtok egy vak és süketnéma embert? – kérdezte Hszüan-sa a gyülekezettől.
– Szemem is van, fülem is van, nyelvem is van – szólalt meg Lo-han –, hogyan fogadsz engem?
– Röstellem magam – mondta Hszüan-sa, és visszament a szobájába.

Lo-han látott egy közeledő szerzetest, és felemelte a légycsapóját. A szerzetes leborult előtte.
– Minek hajbókolsz? – kérdezte Lo-han.
– Hálából.
Lo-han rácsapott:
– Ha látod, hogy emelem a légycsapót, rögtön leborulsz, de miért nem hálálkodsz akkor, ha a szobát vagy a kertet söpröm?

Fa-jen a Panjang-tó felé vette útját néhány szerzetestársával. Vihar tört ki, és a hatalmas felhőszakadástól kiáradtak a folyók, elöntötték a környező szántóföldeket. Fa-jen a Ti-cang kolostorban keresett menedéket, és ha már ott volt, bekopogtatott Lo-han mester ajtaján.
– Hová mész innen? – kérdezte tőle Lo-han.
– Csak megyek tovább.
– Minek?
– Nem tudom.
– A nemtudás férkőzhet legközelebb az igazsághoz – bólintott a mester.
Fa-jen hirtelen megvilágosult.



Lo-han megvilágosulása
Fordította: Rafalszky Katalin
: D. T. Suzuki: A Zen területe, Budapest, 1982

A prajna-intuiciónak egyszerűségét és közvetlenségét a következő költeményből is megérthetjük, melyet a T'ang dinasztia egyik Zen mestere írt. A szerző neve Rakan Osho (Lo-han Ho-shang), és a Shoshu (Chang-chou) tartományban élt. Akkor nyerte el a megvilágosodást, amikor tanítója kemény ökölcsapást mért mellkasára.

„Hsien-t'ung hetedik esztendejében történt (i.sz. 867), hogy először kezdtem el a Tao tanulmányozásával foglalkozni.
Bárhová mentem, szavakkal találkoztam, és nem értettem őket.
Az agyban a kétségek gömbje fonott kosárhoz hasonlított.
Három évig laktam az erdőben a patak mentén, egészen boldogtalanul.
Amikor véletlenül megláttam a Dharmaraja-t
(Zen tanító) aki a szőnyegen ült.
Hozzáléptem és őszintén megkértem, oszlassa el kétségeimet.
A tanító felállt a szőnyegről, melyen ülve mélyen elmerült meditációiba;
Meztelenné tette karját, öklével csapást mért mellkasomra.
Ez hirtelen darabokra törte a kétségek gömbjét.
Fejem felemelve első ízben érzékeltem, hogy a nap korong alakú.
Azóta én vagyok a legboldogabb a világon, nem félek, nem aggódom;
Ahogy a napok múlnak, pezsgő élet tölti be időmet.
Csak azt veszem észre, hogy bensőmet a teljesség és elégedettség érzése tölti meg;
Már nem járkálok ide-oda, élelemért koldulva."

Most tegyük fel a kérdést: mi volt az, ami a költő benső világát olyan teljes elégedettség érzésével töltötte meg, ami megakadályozta abban, hogy elinduljon, és mindennapi betevő falatját megkeresse? Miféle tudás volt az, ami a tanító egyetlen ökölcsapásával jött el hozzá, és ami után már nem vágyakozott a partikuláris világban darabonként megszerezhető tudás után? Ha ez a tudás bonyolult dolog lett volna, vagy valami olyasmi, amit az egyes tények ismeretének akkumulálása után lehetett volna elérni, akkor Rakan Osho nem nyerte volna el tanítója egyetlen ökölcsapása által. Ez a "tudás" nem jöhetett külső erőtől; legbensőbb lényéből kellett erednie. Ez a tudás nem más, mint a tudatosság, mely első ízben ébredt fel Énjének mélyéből - itt nem a pszichológusok által használt én fogalom szerepel. Az Én, amely itt öntudatra ébredt, a keresztény teológiai kifejezésével élve, az Atya, aki egyetlen Fiát nemzi a lélekben, ugyanakkor a lélek is, mely újra születik, Istenhez visszajutva.
Az emberi tudatot olyan súlyosan terheli az intellektuális tévedés vagy „a kezdet nélküli tudatlanság", mint ahogyan a buddhisták neveznék, hogy nehéznek találjuk „az isteni igazság tiszta tudását" vagy, hogy „szabadok legyünk minden másságtól és a teremtmények természetétől."
Végezetül ismét Rakan Osho egyik versét idézem:

„Egy ténfergő látogató ezen a világon,
Egy szegény szerzetes, faragatlan, az emberek között:
Hadd nevessen csak rajta mindenki, amennyit akar,
Éli a maga életét, örömmel teljesen, nyugalomban."