by Unknown
One gust of wind
And the whole world teetered;
One clap of thunder
And both mountains and streams shuddered.
One flash of lightning
Shot flames through the clouds;
One sky of fog
Enveloped this great Earth.
The wind’s mighty howl;
The thunder’s violent roar;
The lightning’s scarlet streaks;
The fog blanking moon and stars.
The wind hurtled dust and dirt at their faces;
The thunder sent tigers and leopards into hiding;
The lightning raised among the fowl a ruckus;
The fog made the woods and trees disappear.
That wind caused waves in the Heaven-Reaching River to toss and churn;
That lightning lit up the Heaven-Reaching River down to its bottom;
That thunder terrified the Heaven-Reaching River’s dragons and fishes;
That fog covered the shores of Heaven-Reaching River with a shroud of darkness.
Marvelous wind!
Mountains cracked as pines and bamboos toppled.
Marvelous thunder!
Its power stirred insects and injured humans.
Marvelous lightning!
Like a gold snake it brightened both land and sky.
Marvelous fog!
It surged through the air to screen the Ninefold Heaven.
So terrified were the pilgrims that Tripitaka held firmly to the scripture wraps and Sha Monk threw himself on the poles. While Eight Rules clung to the white horse, Pilgrim wielded his iron rod with both hands to give protection left and right. That wind, fog, thunder, and lightning, you see, had been a storm brought on by invisible demons, who wanted to snatch away the scriptures the pilgrims had acquired. The commotion lasted all night, and only by morning did the storm subside. Soaked from top to bottom and shaking all over, the elder said, “Wukong, how did this storm come about?”
“Master, you don’t seem to understand,” said Pilgrim, panting heavily, “that when we escorted you to acquire these scriptures, we had, in fact, robbed Heaven and Earth of their creative powers. For our success meant that we could share the age of the universe; like the light of the sun and moon, we would enjoy life everlasting for we had put on an incorruptible body. Our success, however, had also incurred the envy of Heaven and Earth, the jealousy of both demons and gods, who wanted to snatch away the scriptures from us. They could not do so only because the scriptures were thoroughly wet and because they had been shielded by your rectified dharma-body, which could not be harmed by thunder, lightning, or fog. Moreover, old Monkey was brandishing his iron rod to exercise the nature of pure yang and give you protection. Now that it is morning, the forces of yang are evermore in ascendancy, and the demons cannot prevail.”
Only then did Tripitaka, Eight Rules, and Sha Monk realize what had taken place, and they all thanked Pilgrim repeatedly. In a little while, the sun was way up in the sky, and they moved the scriptures to high ground so that the wraps could be opened and their contents dried. To this day the boulders have remained on which the scriptures were spread out and sunned. By the side of the boulders they also spread out their own clothing and shoes. As they stood, sat, or jumped about, truly this was their situation:
The one pure yang body facing the light
Has put invisible demons all to flight.
Know that true scriptures will o’er water prevail.
They fear not the thunder-and-lightning assail.
Henceforth to Sambodhi they’ll go in peace,
And to fairy land they’ll return with ease.
Rocks for sunning scriptures are still found here,
Though no demon would ever dare come near.
The four of them were examining the scriptures scroll by scroll to see if they had completely dried when some fishermen arrived at the shore. When they saw the pilgrims, one of the fishermen recognized them and said, “Old Masters, aren’t you the ones who crossed this river some years ago on your way to the Western Heaven to seek scriptures?”
“Indeed, we are!” replied Eight Rules. “Where are you from? How is it that you recognize us?”
“We are from the Chen Village,” said the fisherman. “How far is the village from here?” asked Eight Rules. The fisherman said, “Due south of this canal, about twenty miles.”
“Master,” said Eight Rules, “let’s move the scriptures to the Chen Village and dry them there. They have a place for us to sit and food for us to eat. We can even ask their family to starch our clothing. Isn’t that better than staying here?”
“Let’s not go there,” replied Tripitaka. “As soon as the scriptures are dried here, we can collect them and be on our way.”
The fishermen, however, went back south of the canal and ran right into Chen Cheng. “Number Two,” they cried, “the masters who offered themselves as sacrifice-substitutes for your children years ago have returned.” “Where did you see them?” asked Chen Cheng. Pointing with their hands, the fishermen said, “Near the boulders over there, where they’re sunning scrolls of scriptures.”
Chen Cheng took some of his farmhands and ran past the canal. When he caught sight of the pilgrims, he hurriedly went to his knees and said, “Venerable Fathers, now that you have returned, having accomplished your work and merit of acquiring scriptures, why did you not come straight to our home? Why are you loitering here instead? Please, please come to our home!”
“Wait till we’ve dried the scriptures in the sun,” said Pilgrim, “and we’ll go with you.” “How is it,” asked Chen Cheng again, “that the clothing and scriptures of the venerable fathers are soaking wet?”
“In that previous year,” replied Tripitaka, “we were indebted to a white turtle for taking us on his back to the western shore. This time he again offered to carry us back to the eastern shore. When we were about to reach the bank, he asked me whether I had remembered to inquire of Buddha for him about how much longer it would take for him to achieve human form. I had actually forgotten about the matter, and he dove into the water. That was how we got wet.”
After Tripitaka had thus given a thorough account of what had taken place, Chen Cheng kowtowed and urged them to go back to the house. At length Tripitaka gave in, and they began to collect the scriptures together. They did not expect, however, that several scrolls of the Buddha-carita-kāvya Sūtra would be stuck to the rocks, and a part of the sūtra’s ending was torn off. This is why the sūtra today is not a complete text, and the top of that particular boulder on which the sūtra had dried still retains some traces of writing. “We’ve been very careless!” said Tripitaka sorrowfully. “We should have been more vigilant.”
“Hardly! Hardly!” said Pilgrim, laughing. “After all, even Heaven and Earth are not perfect. This sūtra may have been perfect, but a part of it has been torn off precisely because only in that condition will it correspond to the profound mystery of nonperfection. What happened isn’t something human power could anticipate or change!” After master and disciples had finished packing up the scriptures, they headed for the village with Chen Cheng.
The news of the pilgrims’ arrival was passed from one person to ten, from ten to a hundred, and from a hundred to a thousand, till all the people, old and young, came to receive them. When Chen Qing got the news, he immediately set up an incense altar in front of his door and called for drummers and musicians to play. The moment they arrived, Chen led his entire household to kowtow to the pilgrims so as to thank them once more for their previous kindness of saving their children. Then he ordered tea and maigre for them.
Since Tripitaka had partaken of the immortal victuals prepared for him by the Buddhist Patriarch, and since he had been delivered from his mortal frame to become a Buddha, he had no desire at all for profane food. The two old men begged and begged, and only to please them did he pick up the merest morsel. The Great Sage Sun, who never ate much cooked food anyway, said almost immedi
ately, “Enough!” Sha Monk did not show much appetite either. As for Eight Rules, even he did not resemble his former self, for he soon put down his bowl.
“Idiot, aren’t you eating anymore?” asked Pilgrim.
“I don’t know why,” said Eight Rules, “but my stomach seems to have weakened all at once!” They therefore put away the food, and the two old men asked about the enterprise of scripture seeking. Tripitaka gave a thorough account of how they bathed at the Jade Perfection Abbey first, how their bodies turned light and agile at the Cloud-Transcending Ferry, how they bowed to Tathāgata at Thunderclap, and how they were feted beneath the precious tower and received scriptures at the treasure loft. He then went on to tell how the two Honored Ones, failing to obtain a gift at first, gave them wordless scriptures instead, how the second audience with Tathāgata had resulted in acquiring a canonical sum of scriptures, how the white turtle dove into the water, and how invisible demons tried to rob them. After this detailed rehearsal, he immediately wanted to leave.
The entire household of the two old men, of course, absolutely refused to let them go. “We could never have repaid,” they said, “your profound kindness in saving the lives of our son and daughter except by building a temple to your memory. We have named it the Life-Saving Monastery so that we might offer you the perpetual sacrifice of incense.” Then they called Chen Guanbao and One Load of Gold, the son and daughter for whom Pilgrim and Eight Rules originally served as substitutes on that occasion of child-sacrifice, to come out to kowtow again to their benefactors before they invited the pilgrims to view the monastery.
Leaving the scripture-wraps in front of their family hall, Tripitaka recited a scroll of the Precious Permanence Sūtra for their entire household. When they reached the monastery, food had already been laid out there by the Chen family. Hardly had they been seated than another banquet was sent in by another family. Before they could even raise their chopsticks, still another banquet was brought in. There seemed, in fact, to be an unending stream of visitors and food vying for the pilgrims’ attention. Not wishing to decline such sincere display of the people’s hospitality, Tripitaka forced himself to make some show of tasting what was set before him. That monastery, by the way, was a handsome building indeed.
The temple’s bright red-painted doors
Reflect the work of all donors.
From that moment one edifice would rise
With two porticoes adding to its size.
Screens and casements scarlet;
Seven treasures exquisite.
Incense and clouds interlace
As pure light floods the airy space.
A few young cypresses need water still:
Pines have yet to form clusters on the hill.
A living stream in front
Reaches Heaven with its tossing billows;
A tall ridge behind,
The mountain range through which the earth pulse flows.
After he had looked at the monastery from the outside, Tripitaka then went up to the tall tower, where he found the four statues of himself and his disciples.
When Eight Rules saw these, he gave Pilgrim a tug and said, “Your statue looks very much like you!” “Second Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “yours has great resemblance, too. But Master’s seems to look even more handsome.” “It’s about right! It’s about right!” said Tripitaka, and they descended the tower. In the front hall and the rear corridor, more vegetarian dishes were laid out for them.
Pilgrim asked the Chens, “Whatever happened to the shrine of that Great King?”
“It was pulled down that very year,” replied the two old men. “Since this monastery was built, Venerable Father, we have been enjoying a rich harvest every year. This has to be the blessing you bestowed on us.”
“It’s actually the gift of Heaven!” said Pilgrim, chuckling. “We have nothing to do with it. But after we leave this time, we shall try to give you all the protection we can, so that the families of your entire village may enjoy abundant posterity, the peaceful births of the six beasts, and annually wind and rain in due season.” All the people kowtowed again to express their thanks.
Before and behind the monastery, there seemed to have gathered a numberless crowd all wanting to offer fruits and maigre to their benefactors. With a giggle Eight Rules said, “It’s just my lousy luck! At the time when I could eat, there wasn’t a single household that would give me ten meals. Today I have no appetite, but one family after another is pressing me with invitations.” Though he felt stuffed, he raised his hands slightly and once more devoured eight or nine platters of vegetarian food. Though he claimed his stomach had weakened, he nonetheless put away twenty or thirty buns. The pilgrims all ate to their fullest capacity, but still there were other households waiting to invite them. “What contribution have these disciples made,” said Tripitaka, “that we should receive such great outpouring of your affection? I beg you all to call a halt tonight. Wait till tomorrow and we shall be glad to be the recipients again.”
It was already deep in the night. As he wanted to guard the true scriptures, Tripitaka dared not leave. He remained seated below the tower and meditated, so as to watch his possessions. By about the hour of the third watch, Tripitaka whispered, “Wukong, the people here have already perceived that we have finished our enterprise and attained the Way. As the ancients put it,
The adept does not show himself;
He who shows himself’s no adept.
If they detain us too long, I fear that we may lose out in our main enterprise.”
“What you say is quite right, Master,” replied Pilgrim. “While it is still deep in the night and people are all sound asleep, let us leave quietly.” Eight Rules now had become quite alert, and Sha Monk was most understanding. Even the white horse seemed to know their thoughts. They all arose, silently loaded the packs on the saddle, took up the poles, and toted their belongings through the corridor. When they reached the monastery gate, they found it padlocked. Using his magic, Pilgrim opened the locks on both the second-level gate and the main gate. As they were searching for the way toward the East, a voice rang out in midair. “You who are fleeing,” cried the Eight Vajra Guardians, “follow us!” As the elder smelled a strange fragrance, he rose with the others into the wind. Truly
Elixir formed, he knows the original face;6
His healthy frame, natural and free, bows to his lord.
We do not know how he finally managed to see the Tang emperor; let’s listen to the explanation in the next chapter.
ONE HUNDRED
They return to the Land of the East;
Five sages become perfected.
Let us not say anything more about how the four pilgrims departed by mounting the wind with the Vajra Guardians. We tell you instead about the multitude in the Life-Saving Monastery at the Chen Village, who rose at dawn and went at once to offer fruits and other food to their benefactors. When they arrived at the space beneath the tower, however, they found that the Tang Monk had disappeared. Thereupon all of them hunted everywhere, but without success. They were so upset that they did not quite know what to do except to wail aloud, “We have allowed a Living Buddha to walk away!”
After a while, the entire household realized that they had no better alternative than to pile all the food and gifts on the altar up in the tower and offer them as sacrifices along with the burning of paper cash. Thereafter they made four great sacrifices and twenty-four smaller ones each year. Moreover, those who wanted to pray for healing, for safety on a journey, for the gift of a spouse, for wealth or children, and to make a vow appeared daily at every hour to present their offerings and incense. Truly,
The gold censer continued a thousand years’ fire;
The jade chalice brightened with an eternal lamp.
In that condition we shall leave them.
We tell you now instead about the Eight Vajra Guardians, who employed the second gust of fragrant wind to carry the four pilgrims back to the Land of the East. In
less than a day, the capital, Chang’an, gradually came into view. That Emperor Taizong, you see, had escorted the Tang Monk out of the city three days before the full moon in the ninth month of the thirteenth year of the Zhenguan reign period. By the sixteenth year, he had already asked the Bureau of Labor to erect a Scripture-Watch Tower outside the Western-Peace Pass to receive the holy books. Each year Taizong would go personally to that place for a visit. It so happened that he had gone again to the tower that day when he caught sight of a sky full of auspicious mists drifting near from the West, and he noticed at the same time strong gusts of fragrant wind.
Halting in midair, the Vajra Guardians cried, “Sage Monk, this is the city Chang’an. It’s not convenient for us to go down there, for the people of this region are quite intelligent, and our true identity may become known to them. Even the Great Sage Sun and his two companions needn’t go; you yourself may go, hand over the scriptures, and return at once. We’ll wait for you in the air so that we may all go back to report to Buddha.”
“What the Honored Ones say may be most appropriate,” said the Great Sage, “but how could my master tote all those scriptures? How could he lead the horse at the same time? We will have to escort him down there. May we trouble you to wait a while in the air? We dare not tarry.”
“When the Bodhisattva Guanyin spoke to Tathāgata the other day,” said the Vajra Guardians, “she assured him that the whole trip should take only eight days, so that the canonical number would be fulfilled. It’s already more than four days now. We fear that Eight Rules might become so enamored of the riches down below that we will not be able to meet our appointed schedule.”
“When Master attains Buddhahood,” said Eight Rules, chuckling, “I, too, will attain Buddhahood. How could I become enamored of riches down below? Stupid old ruffians! Wait for me here, all of you! As soon as we have handed over the scriptures, I’ll return with you and be canonized.” Idiot took up the pole, Sha Monk led the horse, and Pilgrim supported the sage monk. Lowering their cloud, they dropped down beside the Scripture-Watch Tower.
