The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 1

by Unknown

  Pilgrim said, “At first, he wanted to have a contest of strength with me and managed only a few bouts. Afterwards he would not come out even when I abused him. Only when I used the magic of overturning seas and rivers and stirred up the water did he appear again, and then he still wanted to fight. He really had no idea how heavy my rod was! When finally he couldn’t hold out any longer, he changed himself into a water snake and wriggled into the grass. I rushed up there to look for him, but there was no trace of him.” “You may not know, Great Sage,” said the local spirit, “that there are countless holes and crevices along these banks, through which the stream is connected with its many tributaries. The dragon could have crawled into any one of these. But there’s no need for the Great Sage to get angry trying to look for him. If you want to capture this creature, all you need do is to ask Guanshiyin to come here; then he’ll certainly surrender.”

  When Pilgrim heard this, he called the mountain god and the local spirit to go with him to see Tripitaka to give an account of what had happened. “If you need to send for the Bodhisattva,” said Tripitaka, “when will you be able to return? How can this poor monk endure the cold and hunger?” He had hardly finished speaking when the Golden-Headed Guardian called out from midair, “Great Sage, you needn’t leave. Your humble subject will go fetch the Bodhisattva.” Pilgrim was very pleased, shouting, “Thanks for taking all that trouble! Go quickly!” The Guardian mounted the clouds swiftly and headed straight for South Sea; Pilgrim asked the mountain god and the local spirit to protect his master and the Day Sentinel to find some vegetarian food, while he himself went back to patrol the stream, and we shall say no more of that.

  We now tell you about the Golden-Headed Guardian, who mounted the clouds and soon arrived at South Sea. Descending from the auspicious light, he went straight to the purple bamboo grove of the Potalaka Mountain, where he asked the various deities in golden armor and Mokṣa to announce his arrival. The Bodhisattva said, “What have you come for?” “The Tang Monk lost his horse at the Eagle Grief Stream of the Serpent Coil Mountain,” said the Guardian, “and the Great Sage Sun was placed in a terrible dilemma. He questioned the local deities, who claimed that a dragon sent by the Bodhisattva to that stream had eaten it. The Great Sage, therefore, sent me to request the Bodhisattva to go and subdue that cursed dragon, so that he might get back his horse.” Hearing this, the Bodhisattva said, “That creature was originally the son of Aorun of the Western Ocean. Because in his carelessness he set fire to the palace and destroyed the luminous pearls hanging there, his father accused him of subversion, and he was condemned to die by the Heavenly Tribunal. It was I who personally sought pardon from the Jade Emperor for him, so that he might serve as a means of transportation for the Tang Monk. I can’t understand how he could swallow the monk’s horse instead. But if that’s what happened, I’ll have to get over there myself.” The Bodhisattva left her lotus platform and went out of the divine cave. Mounting the auspicious luminosity with the Guardian, she crossed the South Sea. We have a testimonial poem that says:

  Buddha proclaimed the Tripitaka Supreme

  Which the Goddess declared throughout Chang’an:

  Those great, wondrous truths could reach Heaven and Earth;

  Those wise, true words could save the spirits damned.

  They caused Gold Cicada to cast again his shell.

  They moved Xuanzang to mend his ways anew.

  By blocking his path at Eagle Grief Stream,

  A dragon-prince in horse-form returns to the Real.

  The Bodhisattva and the Guardian soon arrived at the Serpent Coil Mountain. They stopped the hallowed clouds in midair and saw Pilgrim Sun down below, shouting abuses at the bank of the stream. The Bodhisattva asked the Guardian to fetch him. Lowering his clouds, the Guardian went past Tripitaka and headed straight for the edge of the stream, saying to Pilgrim, “The Bodhisattva has arrived.” When Pilgrim heard this, he jumped quickly into the air and yelled at her: “You, so-called Teacher of the Seven Buddhas and the Founder of the Faith of Mercy! Why did you have to use your tricks to harm me?”

  “You impudent stableman, ignorant red-buttocks!” said the Bodhisattva. “I went to considerable effort to find a scripture pilgrim, whom I carefully instructed to save your life. Instead of thanking me, you are finding fault with me!” “You saved me all right!” said Pilgrim. “If you truly wanted to deliver me, you should have allowed me to have a little fun with no strings attached. When you met me the other day above the ocean, you could have chastened me with a few words, telling me to serve the Tang Monk with diligence, and that would have been enough. Why did you have to give him a flower cap, and have him deceive me into wearing it so that I would suffer? Now the fillet has taken root on old Monkey’s head. And you even taught him this so-called ‘Tight-Fillet Spell,’ which he recites again and again, causing endless pain in my head! You haven’t harmed me, indeed!” The Bodhisattva laughed and said, “O, Monkey! You are neither attentive to admonition nor willing to seek the fruit of truth. If you are not restrained like this, you’ll probably mock the authority of Heaven again without regard for good or ill. If you create troubles as you did before, who will be able to control you? It’s only through this bit of adversity that you will be willing to enter our gate of Yoga.”

  “All right,” said Pilgrim, “I’ll consider the matter my hard luck. But why did you take that condemned dragon and send him here so that he could become a spirit and swallow my master’s horse? It’s your fault, you know, if you allow an evildoer to perpetrate his villainies some more!” “I went personally to plead with the Jade Emperor,” said the Bodhisattva, “to have the dragon stationed here so that he could serve as a means of transportation for the scripture pilgrim. Those mortal horses from the Land of the East, do you think that they could walk through ten thousand waters and a thousand hills? How could they possibly hope to reach the Spirit Mountain, the land of Buddha? Only a dragon-horse could make that journey!” “But right now he’s so terribly afraid of me,” said Pilgrim, “that he refuses to come out of his hiding place. What can we do?” The Bodhisattva said to the Guardian, “Go to the edge of the stream and say, ‘Come out, Third Prince Jade Dragon of the Dragon King Aorun. The Bodhisattva from South Sea is here.’ He’ll come out then.”

  The Guardian went at once to the edge of the stream and called out twice. Churning the waters and leaping across the waves, the little dragon appeared and changed at once into the form of a man. He stepped on the clouds and rose up into the air; saluting the Bodhisattva, he said, “I thank the Bodhisattva again for saving my life. I’ve waited here a long time, but I’ve heard no news of the scripture pilgrim.” Pointing to Pilgrim, the Bodhisattva said, “Isn’t he the eldest disciple of the scripture pilgrim?” When he saw him, the little dragon said, “Bodhisattva, he’s my adversary. I was hungry yesterday and ate his horse. We fought over that, but he took advantage of his superior strength and defeated me; in fact, he so abused me that I dared not show myself again. But he has never mentioned a word about scripture seeking.”

  “You didn’t bother to ask my name,” said Pilgrim. “How did you expect me to tell you anything?” The little dragon said, “Didn’t I ask you, ‘What kind of a monster are you and where do you come from?’ But all you did was shout, ‘Never mind where I come from; just return my horse!’ Since when did you utter even half the word ‘Tang’?” “That monkey,” said the Bodhisattva, “is always relying on his own abilities! When has he ever given any credit to other people? When you set off this time, remember that there are others who will join you. So when they ask you, by all means mention first the matter of scripture seeking; they will submit to you without causing you further trouble.”

  Pilgrim received this word of counsel amiably. The Bodhisattva went up to the little dragon and plucked off the shining pearls hanging around his neck. She then dipped her willow branch into the sweet dew in her vase and sprinkled it all over his body; blowing a mouthful of magic breath on him, she
cried, “Change!” The dragon at once changed into a horse with hair of exactly the same color and quality as that of the horse he had swallowed. The Bodhisattva then told him, “You must overcome with utmost diligence all the cursed barriers. When your merit is achieved, you will no longer be an ordinary dragon; you will acquire the true fruit of a golden body.” Holding the bit in his mouth, the little dragon humbly accepted the instruction. The Bodhisattva told Wukong to lead him to Tripitaka, saying, “I’m returning across the ocean.”

  Pilgrim took hold of her and refused to let go, saying, “I’m not going on! I’m not going on! The road to the West is so treacherous! If I have to accompany this mortal monk, when will I ever get there? If I have to endure all these miseries, I may well lose my life. What sort of merit do you think I’ll achieve? I’m not going! I’m not going!”

  “In years past, before you reached the way of humanity,” said the Bodhisattva, “you were most eager to seek enlightenment. Now that you have been delivered from the chastisement of Heaven, how could you become slothful again? The truth of Nirvāṇa in our teaching can never be realized without faith and perseverance. If on your journey you should come across any danger that threatens your life, I give you permission to call on Heaven, and Heaven will respond; to call on Earth, and Earth will prove efficacious. In the event of extreme difficulty, I myself will come to rescue you. Come closer, and I shall endow you with one more means of power.” Plucking three leaves from her willow branch, the Bodhisattva placed them at the back of Pilgrim’s head, crying, “Change!” They changed at once into three hairs with lifesaving power. She said to him: “When you find yourself in a helpless and hopeless situation, you may use these according to your needs, and they will deliver you from your particular affliction.” After Pilgrim had heard all these kind words, he thanked the Bodhisattva of Great Mercy and Compassion. With scented wind and colored mists swirling around her, the Bodhisattva returned to Potalaka.

  Lowering the direction of his cloud, Pilgrim tugged at the mane of the horse and led him to Tripitaka, saying, “Master, we have a horse!” Highly pleased by what he saw, Tripitaka said, “Disciple, how is it that the horse has grown a little fatter and stronger than before? Where did you find him?” “Master, you are still dreaming!” said Pilgrim. “Just now the Golden-Headed Guardian managed to bring the Bodhisattva here, and she transformed the dragon of the stream into our white horse. Except for the missing harness, the color and hair are all the same, and old Monkey has pulled him here.” “Where is the Bodhisattva?” asked Tripitaka, greatly surprised. “Let me go and thank her.” “By this time,” said Pilgrim, “the Bodhisattva has probably arrived at South Sea; there’s no need to bother about that.” Picking up a few pinches of earth with his fingers and scattering them like incense, Tripitaka bowed reverently toward the South. He then got up and prepared to leave again with Pilgrim.

  Having dismissed the mountain god and the local spirit and given instructions to the Guardians and the Sentinels, Pilgrim asked his master to mount. Tripitaka said, “How can I ride a horse without harness? Let’s find a boat to cross this stream, and then we can decide what to do.” “This master of mine is truly impractical!” said Pilgrim. “In the wilds of this mountain, where will you find a boat? Since the horse has lived here for a long time, he must know the water’s condition. Just ride him like a boat and we’ll cross over.” Tripitaka had no choice but to follow his suggestion and climbed onto the barebacked horse; Pilgrim took up the luggage and they arrived at the edge of the stream. Then they saw an old fisherman punting downstream toward them in an old wooden raft. When Pilgrim caught sight of him, he waved his hands and called out: “Old fisherman, come here! Come here! We come from the Land of the East to seek scriptures. It’s difficult for my master to cross, so please take us over.” Hearing these words, the fisherman quickly punted the raft up to the bank. Asking his master to dismount, Pilgrim helped Tripitaka onto the raft before he embarked the horse and the luggage. That old fisher punted the raft away, and like an arrow in the wind, they crossed the steep Eagle Grief Stream swiftly and landed on the western shore. Tripitaka told Pilgrim to untie a bag and take out a few Tang pennies to give to the old fisherman. With a shove of his pole, the old fisherman pulled away, saying, “I don’t want any money.” He drifted downstream and soon disappeared from sight. Feeling very much obliged, Tripitaka kept folding his hands to express his gratitude. “Master,” said Pilgrim, “you needn’t be so solicitous. Don’t you recognize him? He is the Water God of this stream. Since he didn’t come to pay his respects to old Monkey, he was about to get a beating. It’s enough that he is now spared from that. Would he dare take any money!” The Master only half-believed him when he climbed onto the barebacked horse once again; following Pilgrim, he went up to the main road and set off again toward the West. It would be like this that they

  Through the vast Thusness2 reach the other shore,

  And climb with hearts unfeigned the Spirit Mount.

  Master and disciple journeyed on, and soon the fiery sun sank westward as the sky gradually darkened. You see

  Clouds hazy and aimless,

  A mountain moon dim and gloomy.

  The sky, all frosty, builds the cold;

  Howling wind around cuts through you.

  One bird is lost midst the pale, wide sandbars,

  As twilight glows where the distant hills are low.

  A thousand trees roar in sparse woods;

  One ape cries on a barren peak.

  No traveler is seen on this long road

  When boats from afar return for the night.

  As Tripitaka, riding his horse, peered into the distance, he suddenly saw something like a hamlet beside the road. “Wukong,” he said, “there’s a house ahead of us. Let’s ask for lodging there and travel again tomorrow.” Raising his head to take a look, Pilgrim said, “Master, it’s no ordinary house.” “Why not?” said Tripitaka. “If it were an ordinary house,” said Pilgrim, “there would be no flying fishes or reclining beasts decorating the ridge of its roof. That must be a temple or an abbey.” While they were speaking, master and disciple arrived at the gate of the building. Dismounting, Tripitaka saw on top of the gate three large characters: Lishe Shrine. They walked inside, where they were met by an old man with some beads hanging around his neck. He came forward with hands folded, saying, “Master, please take a seat.” Tripitaka hastily returned his salutation and then went to the main hall to bow to the holy images. The old man called a youth to serve tea, after which Tripitaka asked him, “Why is this shrine named Lishe?”

  The old man said, “This region belongs to the Hamil Kingdom of the western barbarians. There is a village behind the shrine, which was built from the piety of all its families. The ‘Li’ refers to the land owned by the whole village, and the ‘She’ is the God of the Soil. During the days of spring sowing, summer plowing, autumn harvesting, and winter storing, each of the families would bring the three beasts,3 flowers, and fruits to sacrifice at the shrine, so that they might be blessed with good luck in all four seasons, a rich harvest of the five grains, and prosperity in raising the six domestic creatures.”4 When Tripitaka heard these words, he nodded his head to show his approval, saying, “This is truly like the proverb: ‘Even three miles from home there are customs entirely distinct.’ The families in our region do not practice such good works.” Then the old man asked, “Where is the honorable home of the master?” “Your poor monk,” said Tripitaka, “happens to have been sent by the royal decree from the Great Tang Nation in the East to go to seek scriptures from Buddha in the Western Heaven. It was getting rather late when I passed your esteemed edifice. I therefore came to your holy shrine to ask for a night’s lodging. I’ll leave as soon as it gets light.” The old man was delighted and kept saying, “Welcome! Welcome!” He called the youth again to prepare a meal, which Tripitaka ate with gratitude.

  As usual, Pilgrim was extremely observant. Noticing a rope for hanging laundry tied under the eaves,
he walked over to it and pulled at it until it snapped in two. He then used the piece of rope to tie up the horse. “Where did you steal this horse?” asked the old man, laughing. “Old man,” said Pilgrim angrily, “watch what you are saying! We are holy monks going to worship Buddha. How could we steal horses?” “If you didn’t steal it,” laughed the old man, “why is there no saddle or rein, so that you have to rip up my clothesline?”

  “This rascal is always so impulsive,” said Tripitaka apologetically. “If you wanted to tie up the horse, why didn’t you ask the old gentleman properly for a rope? Why did you have to rip up his clothesline? Sir, please don’t be angry! Our horse, to tell you the truth, is not a stolen one. When we approached the Eagle Grief Stream yesterday from the east, I had a white horse complete with harness. Little did we anticipate that there was a condemned dragon in the stream who had become a spirit, and who swallowed my horse in one gulp, harness and all. Fortunately, my disciple has some talents, and he was able to bring the Bodhisattva Guanyin to the stream to subdue the dragon. She told him to assume the form of my original white horse, so that he could carry me to worship Buddha in the Western Heaven. It has barely been one day since we crossed the stream and arrived at your holy shrine. We haven’t had time to look for a harness.”

  “Master, you needn’t worry,” said the old man. “An old man like me loves to tease, but I had no idea your esteemed disciple was so serious about everything! When I was young, I had a little money, and I, too, loved to ride. But over the years I had my share of misfortunes: deaths in the family and fires in the household have not left me much. Thus I am reduced to being a caretaker here in the shrine, looking after the fires and incense, and dependent on the goodwill of the patrons in the village back there for a living. I still have in my possession a harness that I have always cherished, and that even in this poverty I couldn’t bear to sell. But since hearing your story, how even the Bodhisattva delivered the divine dragon and made him change into a horse to carry you, I feel that I must not withhold from giving either. I shall bring the harness tomorrow and present it to the master, who, I hope, will be pleased to accept it.” When Tripitaka heard this, he thanked him repeatedly. Before long, the youth brought in the evening meal, after which lamps were lit and the beds prepared. Everyone then retired.