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

“The journey will not be difficult,

If you try to follow my instructions.

There will be a thousand mountains, a thousand deep rivers.

Many evil miasmas, and many a devil.

If you reach the edge of the sky

Do not worry or be afraid.

If you come to Precipitous Cliff

Walk with your feet placed sideways.

Be careful in the Black Pine Forest,

Where many an evil fox may block your path.

The capital cities will be full of spirits,

And demon kings will live in the mountains.

Tigers will sit in the music rooms,

Wolves will be in charge of the accounts.

Lions and elephants will all be kings,

With tigers and leopards for ministers.

A wild boar will carry your luggage,

A water monster will lead the way.

A very old stone monkey

Has no cause to be angry.

Ask those friends of yours-

They know the way to the West.”

Monkey smiled bitterly and said, “Let's go. No need to ask him; you can ask me.” Sanzang did not understand what he meant. The hermit changed himself into a beam of golden light and went up to his nest, while the venerable Sanzang bowed to him in gratitude. Monkey, now furiously angry, raised his iron cudgel and was just going up to wreck the place when ten thousand lotus flowers appeared, protected by a thousand miraculous mists. Brother Monkey, you are strong enough to stir up the ocean or turn a river upside-down; but don't even dream of touching a twig of that nest! When Sanzang saw what he was going to do, he grabbed hold of him and said, “Wukong, what do you mean by trying to wreck this Bodhisattva's nest?”

“He insulted us two disciples,” Monkey replied.

“He did not insult you,” said Sanzang. “He was talking about the way to the Western Heaven.”

“You wouldn't be able to understand,” Monkey said. “When he said, 'A wild boar will carry your luggage,' he was insulting Pig; and 'A very old stone monkey' was an insult to me. You didn't get his meaning, of course.”

“Don't be angry,” said Pig. “That hermit knows about the past and the future as well. We don't yet know whether his talk about a water monster leading the way will come true or not. Let him off.”

Monkey saw the lotus blossoms and the miraculous mists draw in round the nest, and could but ask his master to mount the horse and go down the mountain to the West. On this journey,

Although they knew blessings rare on earth,

There was many a demon and disaster in the hill.

If you don't know what lay in store for them, listen to the explanation in the next installment.

The Tang Priest Meets Trouble on the Yellow Wind Ridge

Pig Wins Mastery Halfway up the Mountain

The Dharma is born in the mind,

And in turn is destroyed by the mind.

Who do life and death come from?

Decide for yourself.

If it is all from your own mind,

Why do you need others to tell you?

All you need to do is work hard,

Squeezing blood out of iron.

Thread a silken rope through your nose.

And fasten yourself to emptiness.

Tie it to the tree of non-action,

To prevent it from collapsing.

Don't acknowledge bandits as your sons,

Or you will forget the Dharma and the mind.

Do not allow yourself to be deceived by others-

Smash them first with a punch.

When the mind appears it is non-existent,

When the Dharma appears, it ceases.

When the boy and the ox both disappear,

The blue sky is absolutely clear.

All is as round as an autumn moon,

And this and that can no longer be distinguished.

This gatha refers to how the Patriarch Xuanzang came to awareness and understanding of the Heart Sutra and thus opened the gate. As that venerable elder recited it constantly, a ray of miraculous light penetrated through to him.

Eating and sleeping in the open, the three of them traveled on, and before long the heat of summer was upon them.

The blossoms were over, the butterflies' passion spent.

High in the trees the cicadas screeched.

Wild silkworms spun cocoons amid the pomegranate blossom,

As lotus flowers opened in the pool.

As they were travelling along one evening they saw a cottage beside the road. “Look,” said Sanzang, “the sun is setting behind the Western hills, hiding its mirror of fire, and the moon is rising from the Eastern sea to show its wheel of ice. How lucky that there is a family living by our path. Let's spend the night here and set off again tomorrow morning.”

“Well said,” put in Pig. “I'm a bit hungry, and if we begged some food from that house I'd have more strength for carrying the luggage.”

“Homesick ghost,” remarked Brother Monkey, “you've only been away from home for a few days, but you're already regretting that you came.”

“Elder brother,” Pig replied, “I can't live on wind and mist like you. You couldn't realize how the hunger's been gnawing at my stomach all these days I've been following our master.”

“Pig,” said Sanzang, “if your heart is still at home, you are not intended for a religious life, and you'd better go back.”

The oafish Pig fell to his knees and pleaded, “Master, please don't pay any attention to what my elder brother says: it's an insult. He says I wish I hadn't come, but in fact I've had no regrets at all. I may be stupid, but I'm straight. I just said that I was hungry and want to beg for some food, and he starts calling me a homesick ghost. But the Bodhisattva told me about the prohibitions, and you have been so kind to me; so I really do want to serve you on your journey to the West. I'll never have any regrets, I swear I won't. This is what they call 'cultivating conduct the hard way'. What right have you to say I shouldn't be a monk?”

“Very well then,” said Sanzang, “up you get.”

The idiot leapt up, and picked up the carrying-pole, chattering incessantly. Then he pressed grimly on. Before long they reached the roadside house, where Sanzang dismounted as Monkey took the bridle and Pig put down his burden. They all stood in a green shade. Sanzang took his nine-ringed monastic staff, straightened his rattan hat, and hurried to the gates, where he saw an old man lying back on a bamboo bed mumbling Buddhist scriptures to himself.

Not wanting to shout loudly, Sanzang said in a quiet voice, “Greetings, benefactor.”

The old man sprang to his feet, straightened his clothes, and came out through the gate to return his greeting. “Excuse my discourtesy, venerable sir,” he said, going on to ask, “Where are you from, and why have you come to my humble abode?”

“I am a monk from the Great Tang in the East,” Sanzang replied, “and I bear an imperial command to worship the Buddha in the Thunder Monastery and ask for the scriptures. As we find ourselves in this district at nightfall, I would be enormously obliged if you could allow us to spend the night in your mansion.”

“You'll never get there,” said the old man with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. “It's impossible to get scriptures from the Western Heaven. If you want scriptures you'd better go to the Eastern Heaven.” Sanzang said nothing as he asked himself why the old man was telling them to go East when the Bodhisattva had instructed them to go West. How could the scriptures be obtained in the East, he asked himself. In his embarrassment he was at loss for words, so he made no reply.

Monkey, who was rough by his very nature, could not stand for this, so he went up to the old man and shouted, “Old fellow, you may be very ancient but you're a complete fool. We holy men from far away come to ask for lodging, but all you can do is to try to put us off. If your house is too poky and there isn't room for us to sleep in it, we'll sit under the trees all night and won't trouble you any further.” The old man grabbed hold of Sanzang and said, “Master, you didn't warn me that you had a disciple with such a twisted face and no chin to speak of, looking like a thunder god with his red eyes. You shouldn't let a demon of sickness like him alarm and offend a person of my age.”