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Wu Cheng-en: Journey to the West (vol. 1)

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Wu Cheng-en Journey to the West (vol. 1)

Journey to the West (vol. 1): краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Journey To the West was written by Wu Chen-en, and is considered to be one of the four great classic novels written during the Ming Dynasty (c. 1500-1582). Wu Chen-en was an elder statesman who witnessed a lot in his life, both good and bad, yet ultimately came away with great faith in human nature to face hardships and survive with good humor and compassion. The story has many layers of meaning and may be read on many different levels such as; a quest and an adventure, a fantasy, a personal search (on the Monkey’s part) for self-cultivation, or a political/social satire. The story is a pseudo-historical account of a monk (Xuanzang) who went to India in the 7th century to seek Buddhist scriptures to bring back to China. The principle story consists of eighty-one calamities suffered by (Monkey) and his guardians (Tripitaka and Sandy, who are monks, and Pigsy, a pig).

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“Master, you told me publicly in front of the altar yesterday that your disciple was to come in here through the back gate at the third watch as you were going to teach me the Way. That is why I made so bold as to come to pay my respects beside my master's bed.”

The Patriarch was very pleased to hear this and said to himself, “This wretch was indeed born of Heaven and Earth. Otherwise he wouldn't have been able to understand my cryptic message.”

Sun Wukong said, “There is no third pair of ears in this room; your disciple is the only other person here. I hope, master, that in your great mercy you will teach me the Way of Immortality. If you do, I'll always be grateful to you.”

“You are predestined,” the Patriarch said, “so I shall be happy to tell you. Since you understood my cryptic message, come over here and listen carefully while I teach you the miraculous Way of Immortality.” Sun Wukong kowtowed with gratitude and knelt before the bed, listening with all his attention. The Patriarch said:

“True spells, revealing secrets and all powerful,

Are the only sure way of protecting one's life.

They all come from essence, vapour, and spirit,

Must be stored away securely, and never be divulged.

Must never be divulged, and be stored in the body,

Then the Way I teach you will flourish of itself.

Many are the benefits of learning spells:

They give protection from evil desires and make one pure.

Make one pure with a dazzling radiance

Like a bright moon shining on a cinnabar tower.

The moon contains a Jade Rabbit, the sun a Golden Crow,

The Tortoise and the Snake are always intertwined.

Always intertwined, then life is firm,

And one can plant golden lotuses in fire.

Grasp all the Five Elements and turn them upside down,

And when you are successful you can become a Buddha, or an Immortal.”

The Patriarch's explanation went to the root of things, and Sun Wukong's heart was filled with bliss as he committed the spells to memory. He bowed to the Patriarch to express his deep gratitude and went out of the back door to look. He saw that there was a trace of white in the East, while the golden light of the moon was shining in the West. He went to the front door by the old path, pushed it open gently, and went in.

He sat down where he had been sleeping earlier, shook his bedding and said loudly, “It's dawn, it's dawn. Get up.” The others were all asleep, unaware of Sun Wukong's good fortune. At daybreak he got up and muddled through the day, while secretly keeping to what he had been told. In the afternoon and evening he regulated his breathing.

After three years had passed in this way the Patriarch once more sat on his lecturing throne and expounded the Dharma to the students. He recounted famous sayings and parables, and discussed external phenomena and external appearances.

Without warning he asked, “Where is Sun Wukong?” Sun Wukong went forward, knelt down and replied, “Your disciple is present.”

“What Way have you cultivated since coming here?”

“Your disciple is now fairly well conversant with the Dharma,” Sun Wukong replied, “and my Source is getting gradually stronger.”

“If you are conversant with the Dharma and you know about the Source,” the Patriarch replied, “and if the spirit has already flowed into you, then you must beware of the 'Three Disasters.'”

Sun Wukong thought for a long time, then he said, “Patriarch, you're talking rubbish. I have often heard that the Way is lofty and its power mighty, that it is as eternal as Heaven, that it can overcome fire and water, and prevent all illnesses from arising, so how could there be “Three Disasters?'”

To this the Patriarch replied, “This is not the ordinary Way: it involves seizing the very creation of Heaven and Earth, and encroaching on the hidden workings of the sun and moon. Once the elixir is made, devils and spirits cannot tolerate it. Although it will preserve the youthfulness of your face and prolong your life, in five hundred years' time Heaven will strike you with a thunderbolt. You must be clear-sighted in nature and mind, so that you can hide from it before it comes. If you succeed in avoiding it you will live as long as Heaven; and if you don't, it will kill you. Another five hundred years later Heaven will burn you with fire. This fire will be not heavenly fire or ordinary fire but 'hidden fire'. It will burn you from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head; your five viscera will be reduced to ashes, your four limbs will be destroyed, and a thousand years of asceticism will have been so much wasted time. Yet another five hundred years later a wind will blow at you. It will not be the North, South, East, or West wind, nor will it be a warm, fragrant wind from the Northwest; nor will it be the kind of wind that blows among flowers, willows, pine, and bamboo. It will be what is called a 'monster wind'. It will blow through the crown of your head down into your six entrails. It will go through the Cinnabar Field below your navel and penetrate your nine orifices. Your flesh and your bones will be destroyed and your body will disintegrate. So you must avoid all three of these disasters.”

When he heard this Sun Wukong's hair stood on end, and he kowtowed with the words, “I implore you, my lord, to show pity and teach me how to avoid these three disasters. If you do I will be grateful to you for ever.”

“That would be easy,” the Patriarch replied, “but for the fact that you are different from other people-which means that I can't.”

“I have a head that faces the sky and feet standing on earth,” said Sun Wukong. “I have nine orifices and four limbs, five viscera and six entrails. How am I different from anyone else?”

“Although you are quite like other people, your cheeks are too small.” Now the Monkey had a funny face, with cheeks that caved inwards and a sharp chin.

Sun Wukong felt it with his hand and replied with a laugh, “Master, you didn't take everything into account. Although I'm a bit short of jaw, I've got more dewlap than other people to make up for it.”

“Very well then,” the Patriarch said, “which would you prefer to learn: the thirty-six heavenly transformations or the seventy-two earthly ones?”

“Your disciple wants to get as much out of it as he can, so I would like to learn the seventy-two earthly ones.”

“If that's what you want,” the Patriarch replied, “come here and I'll teach you the spells.” Thereupon he whispered into Sun Wukong's ear, and who knows what miraculous spells he taught him? The Monkey King was the sort of person who understands everything once he is told a tiny part, and he learned the spells on the spot. He practiced and trained until he had mastered all seventy-two transformations. One day the Patriarch and all his disciples were enjoying the sunset outside the Three Stars Cave.

The Patriarch asked Sun Wukong, “Have you succeeded yet?”

Sun Wukong replied, “Thanks to your infinite mercy, master, your disciple's results have been perfect, and I can now rise on the clouds and fly.”

“Let me see you try a flight,” the Patriarch said. Sun Wukong used his skill to perform a series of somersaults that carried him fifty or sixty feet into the air, then walked around on the clouds for about as long as it takes to eat a meal.

He covered about a mile altogether before landing in front of the Patriarch, folding his arms across his chest, and saying, “Master, that's flying and soaring in the clouds.” The Patriarch laughed.

“That's not soaring on the clouds-it's just climbing up them. There is an old saying that 'an Immortal visits the Northern Sea in the morning and Cangwu in the evening'. But to take as long as you did just to go a mile doesn't count as climbing on the clouds.”

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