The poem says:
Before Chaos was parted, Heaven and Earth were one vast blur, Dim and boundless, beheld by none. Then Pangu broke through the primal mist, And from that cleaving, pure and turbid were set apart. He covered and bore the myriad beings, supremely benevolent; He brought forth all creatures, and all was made good. Would you know the workings of Creation's turning wheel? You must read the Journey to the West, the Tale of Deliverance.
It is said that in the reckoning of Heaven and Earth, a span of 129,600 years makes one cosmic age, a yuan. This yuan is divided into twelve parts, called hui, named after the twelve branches: Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, and Hai. Each hui lasts 10,800 years.
Take a single day as an illustration: at the hour of Zi the yang energy stirs, and at Chou the cock crows; at Yin there is no light yet, and at Mao the sun rises; Chen is the hour after breakfast, and Si comes next in order; at Wu the sun stands at midheaven, and at Wei it slips toward the west; at Shen the day wanes and at You the sun sets; at Xu comes dusk, and at Hai people settle down to sleep.
By the same token, on the grand scale: when the hui of Xu draws to its close, Heaven and Earth grow dark and dim, and all things perish. Another 5,400 years pass, and at the start of the hui of Hai, darkness reigns; nothing remains between the two realms, neither man nor creature—and this is called Chaos.
Shao Kangjie said:
At mid-Zi of the winter solstice, The heart of Heaven has not shifted by a hair. Where the one yang first begins to stir, The myriad things are not yet born.
At this point, Heaven first took root. Another 5,400 years passed, and at the very height of the hui of Zi, the light and pure rose upward: there were sun, moon, stars, and constellations. Sun, moon, stars, and constellations are called the Four Images. Hence it is said: Heaven was opened at Zi. Another 5,400 years went by; as the hui of Zi neared its end and the hui of Chou approached, things gradually hardened and solidified.
The Book of Changes says:
Great indeed is the primal power of Qian! Perfect indeed is the primal power of Kun! The myriad things owe it their birth, And it compliantly carries out the will of Heaven.
Thus the Earth first congealed. Another 5,400 years, at the very height of the hui of Chou, the heavy and turbid sank and settled: there were water, fire, mountains, rocks, and earth. Water, fire, mountain, rock, and earth are called the Five Forms. Hence it is said: Earth was founded at Chou. Another 5,400 years passed; as the hui of Chou ended and the hui of Yin began, the myriad things were brought forth.
The Calendar says:
The breath of Heaven descends; The breath of Earth rises. Heaven and Earth intermingle, And all creatures are born.
By now Heaven was clear and Earth was fresh, yin and yang in harmony. Another 5,400 years, at the very height of the hui of Yin, there were born men, beasts, and birds—and thus Heaven, Earth, and Humanity, the Three Powers, took their appointed places. Hence it is said: Humankind was born at Yin.
After Pangu opened the world, the Three Sovereigns governed it and the Five Emperors established its moral order, and the world came to be divided into four great continents: the Eastern Continent of Superior Body, the Western Continent of Cattle-Gift, the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa, and the Northern Continent of Kuru. This book tells only of the Eastern Continent of Superior Body.
Beyond the sea there lay a country called Aolai. This country stood close to the ocean, and in that ocean there was a mountain, known as the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit.
This mountain was the ancestral vein of the Ten Continents and the dragon-line of the Three Islands, established when the pure and the turbid were first divided, formed after the primal mist was parted. A truly magnificent mountain! There is a rhapsody in testimony:
The mountain's power awed the vast ocean; its majesty stilled the jade sea. Its power awed the vast ocean: tides surged like silver mountains as fish darted into their dens; Its majesty stilled the jade sea: waves rolled in snowy billows as the clam-spirit fled the deep. On the quarters of wood and fire tall masses piled, And at the edge of the Eastern Sea a lofty peak arose. Cinnabar cliffs and strange rocks, sheer precipices and wondrous peaks. On the cinnabar cliffs, phoenixes cried in pairs; Before the sheer precipices, a qilin lay alone. From the peak one heard the golden pheasant's call; In the rocky caves one watched dragons come and go. In the woods were long-lived deer and immortal foxes; In the trees, numinous birds and black cranes. Jade grass and rare flowers never faded; Green pines and verdant cypresses were ever in their spring. Immortal peaches bore fruit all the year; Tall bamboo forever held the clouds. One ravine, dense with vines and creepers; Fresh green grass on every bank around. Truly a pillar propping up Heaven where a hundred rivers meet, The root of the great earth, unmoved through ten thousand kalpas.
At the very summit of that mountain there was an immortal stone. It was three zhang, six chi, and five cun tall, and two zhang and four chi around. Its height of three zhang six chi five cun corresponded to the 365 degrees of the heavens; its girth of two zhang four chi corresponded to the twenty-four solar terms of the calendar. On top it had nine apertures and eight holes, corresponding to the Nine Palaces and the Eight Trigrams. No trees shaded it on any side, but orchids and irises graced it left and right.
Since the creation of the world it had been steeped in the innocence of Heaven and the beauty of Earth, in the essence of the sun and the light of the moon, until at last it quickened with numinous awareness. Within it an immortal embryo grew, and one day the stone burst open, producing a stone egg the size of a ball. Exposed to the wind, the egg transformed into a stone monkey, complete in every feature, whole in every limb. At once it learned to crawl and to walk, and it bowed to the four quarters of the world. From its eyes shot two beams of golden light that pierced all the way to the Palace of the Pole Star.
This alarmed the Most Venerable Jade Emperor of Heaven, the Great Compassionate and Merciful One, who sat in state in the Cloud Palace of the Golden Gates, the Hall of Divine Mists. He summoned the immortal ministers, and seeing the blazing golden light, ordered Thousand-Mile Eye and Wind-Following Ear to open the South Gate of Heaven and go look.
The two captains went out as commanded, and they saw truly and heard plainly. Presently they returned and reported: "Your servants, obeying your command, observed the source of the golden light. It lies in the Eastern Continent of Superior Body, within the borders of the small country of Aolai east of the sea. There is a mountain there called the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and on it an immortal stone. The stone produced an egg, and the egg, meeting the wind, turned into a stone monkey, which was there bowing to the four quarters, its eyes shooting golden light to the very gates of the Pole Star Palace. Now that it has begun to feed on food and water, the golden light will soon subside."
The Jade Emperor, bestowing his mercy, said: "Creatures down below are born of the essence of Heaven and Earth. There is nothing strange in that."
The monkey lived in the mountain, running and leaping, feeding on grass and trees, drinking from mountain springs, gathering wild flowers, seeking out the fruits of trees. It kept company with wolves and serpents, herded with tigers and leopards, made friends with roe deer and muntjacs, counted macaques as its kin. At night it slept beneath the rocky cliffs; by day it roamed among the peaks and caves. Truly, "In the mountains there is no calendar; when the cold has passed, one knows not what year it is."
One day the weather turned hot, and the monkey went with the other monkeys to escape the heat, all of them romping beneath the shade of the pines. Just look at them, one and all:
Climbing trees, clutching branches, picking flowers, gathering fruit; playing marbles, tossing knucklebones; racing through the sand hollows, building pagodas; chasing dragonflies, pouncing on moths; worshipping High Heaven, bowing to the Bodhisattvas; pulling up vines, weaving grass caps; catching lice, biting them and pinching them; smoothing their fur, trimming their nails; some nestling close, some rubbing shoulders; some pushing, some pressing; some tugging, some hauling—beneath the green pines they romped as they pleased, and by the emerald stream they bathed at will.
The monkeys played for a while, then went to bathe in the mountain stream. They saw the water rushing and truly foaming and splashing like rolling melons.
As the ancients said: "Birds have their bird language, and beasts have their beast speech."
The monkeys all said: "Who knows where this water comes from? We've nothing to do today—let's follow the stream up to its headwaters and see where it flows from. What larks!" With a whoop they all came running, dragging sons and daughters, calling brother and calling cousin, and they scrambled up along the stream until they reached its source: a waterfall pouring down from a spring. Just look at it:
A ribbon of white rainbow rising, A thousand fathoms of snowy spray flying; The sea wind blows, yet cannot break it; The river moon shines, and it still remains. Cold air parts the emerald crags; The trailing stream moistens the green slopes. Murmuring, it is called a waterfall— Truly like a curtain hanging.
The monkeys clapped their hands and cried in praise: "Good water! Good water! So this stream runs all the way from the foot of the mountain, straight down to the waves of the great sea!" Then one said: "Whoever has the skill to dive in, find the source, and come out again unharmed—him we'll make our king!" Three times they called out. At once, from out of the thicket, a stone monkey leapt and answered in a loud voice: "I'll go in! I'll go in!"
What a monkey! Truly it was his moment:
Today his fragrant name would shine, His hour of great fortune had come at last; Fated to dwell within this place, A king was sent into the immortal cave.
Watch him screw his eyes shut, crouch low, and with one bound leap straight through the cascade. Then he opened his eyes and lifted his head: inside there was no water and no waves, only, bright and clear, a bridge. He steadied himself, composed his spirit, and looked again carefully: it was a bridge of iron plates. The water beneath it rushed through the crevices of the rock, flowed out beneath the cliff, and hung down over the entrance, veiling the gateway like a curtain.
He rose up, walked to the head of the bridge, and went on further, looking about: it seemed like the dwelling place of some household—a truly fine place. Just look:
Emerald moss piled blue, white clouds floating like jade, Light rippling over drifts of rosy mist. Empty windows, a still and quiet room, Smooth benches and boards a-bloom with flowers. In the milky grotto dragon-pearls hang depending; Winding over all the ground, rare blossoms spread. By the hearth against the cliff, the marks of fire remain; By the table, cups and jars still show their lees and dregs. Stone seats and stone beds, truly delightful; Stone basins and stone bowls, worthy of still more praise. And look there: one stalk, two stalks of tall bamboo, Three dots, five dots of plum blossom. A few green pines, forever damp with rain— Altogether, just like a human home.
After gazing a long while, he hopped to the middle of the bridge and looked left and right. There, set square in the center, stood a stone tablet.
On it, carved in great characters of regular script, was a line that read: "The Blessed Land of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; the Cave Heaven of the Water Curtain Cave."
The stone monkey, beside himself with joy, dashed back out at once, screwed up his eyes, crouched, and leapt out through the water again, giving two great laughs: "What luck! What marvelous luck!" The monkeys crowded round him, asking: "What's it like inside? How deep is the water?" The stone monkey said: "There's no water! No water at all! It's a bridge of iron plates. Beyond the bridge is a home made by Heaven itself and set down by Earth."
The monkeys asked: "How do you make out that it's a home?" The stone monkey laughed: "This waterfall bursts through beneath the stone bridge and hangs down over the gateway, hiding the door. Beside the bridge there are flowers and trees—it's a stone house. Inside there are stone hearths, stone stoves, stone bowls, stone basins, stone beds, and stone benches. And on a stone tablet in the middle is carved: 'The Blessed Land of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit; the Cave Heaven of the Water Curtain Cave.' It's truly a place for us to settle in. And it's spacious enough—it could hold a thousand of us, old and young alike. Let's all go in and live there, and no longer put up with the temper of the sky. Inside:
When the wind blows, there's shelter; when it rains, a place to keep dry. Frost and snow hold no terrors, And the sound of thunder is never heard. Mists and rosy light forever shine upon it, Auspicious airs forever steam and curl. Pines and bamboo grow lovelier year upon year, And rare flowers are made new day after day."
At this every monkey was delighted.
They all cried: "You go first! Take us in! Take us in!"
The stone monkey crouched once more, screwed up his eyes, and leapt in, calling: "All of you, follow me in! In!" The bolder monkeys jumped in at once; the timid ones stretched out their necks and shrank back, scratched their ears and rubbed their cheeks, wailing and shrieking; after a bout of hesitation, they too went in.
Leaping over the bridge, they scrambled for basins and fought over bowls, seized the hearth and squabbled for beds, dragging things over here and shifting them over there—such is the unruly nature of monkeys, and never one of them still for a moment, until they had moved everything about and were worn out in body and spirit.
The stone monkey then sat erect on the seat of honor and said: "Gentlemen! 'A man without his word—how can he get on at all?' You said just now that whoever could get in, get out again, and remain unharmed should be made king. Now I have come in and gone out, gone out and come in again, and found this cave heaven where you may all sleep in peace and enjoy the blessings of a home. Why not make me your king?"
Hearing this, the monkeys all bowed low and offered no dissent. One by one, ranked in order of age, they lined up and bowed in homage, all crying "Great King of a Thousand Years." From that day the stone monkey ascended the royal seat, dropped the word "stone" from his name, and was called the Handsome Monkey King.
There is a poem in proof:
When the three yangs converged and all things quickened into life, The immortal stone, an embryo, held the essence of sun and moon. Borrowing the form of egg and monkey, the Great Way was made whole; Borrowing a name and surname, the elixir was matched and formed. Seen from within, unknowing—for it has no form; Joined to the outer world, knowingly taking shape. Every man in every age belongs to this same Way— Call him king or call him sage, he ranges as he will.
The Handsome Monkey King led a host of gibbons, macaques, and monkeys of every kind. He appointed his ministers and officers; by day they roamed the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and at night they lodged in the Water Curtain Cave. In happy concord, with hearts as one, they joined neither the flocks of flying birds nor the clans of running beasts, but ruled alone in their own right, in bliss beyond all measure. Thus:
In spring they gathered a hundred flowers for their food; In summer they sought out every fruit for their livelihood. In autumn they harvested taro and chestnuts to see the season through; In winter they foraged Solomon's-seal roots to pass the year.
The Handsome Monkey King enjoyed this life of innocent bliss for—well, who could say—some three or five hundred years. One day, in the midst of a merry feast with all his monkeys, he suddenly fell melancholy, and tears rolled down his face.
The monkeys hurriedly bowed round him and asked: "Why is the Great King so troubled?" The Monkey King said: "Though this is a happy hour, I have one small worry for what lies far ahead, and so I am troubled." The monkeys laughed: "Great King, how little you know contentment! Day after day we make merry in mountains of immortals and lands of blessing, in ancient caves and divine territories—subject to no unicorn's jurisdiction, ruled by no phoenix's authority, bound by no earthly king's law—free and unfettered, utterly. Ours is fortune beyond all measure. What worry can there be for the far future?"
The Monkey King said: "Today we obey no human king's law, and we fear no tyranny of beast or bird. But the day will come when we are old and our blood runs thin—and in the darkness, old King Yama will still have charge of us. Once this body dies, will we not have lived in this world in vain, unable to dwell any longer among the beings of Heaven and Earth?" At these words the monkeys covered their faces and wept, every one of them grieving over impermanence.
Then from among the ranks a long-armed gibbon suddenly leapt out and cried in a ringing voice: "Great King, if you can look so far ahead, then as the saying goes, your heart for the Way has awakened! Among the five kinds of creatures, only three names are exempt from old King Yama's rule."
The Monkey King asked: "Which three?" The gibbon said: "They are the Buddhas, the Immortals, and the Sages—these three escape the wheel of rebirth. They are neither born nor destroyed, and they live as long as Heaven and Earth, as long as the mountains and the rivers." The Monkey King asked: "And where do these three dwell?" The gibbon said: "They dwell only in the world of humankind, in ancient caves and mountains of the immortals." At this the Monkey King was overjoyed: "Tomorrow I shall bid you all farewell and go down the mountain. I will wander the far corners of the sea and the ends of the earth until I find these three and learn the secret of agelessness and eternal life, escaping forever from the doom of King Yama."
Oh!
With that one resolve, he leapt beyond the net of rebirth— And thus was the Great Sage Equal to Heaven brought forth.
The monkeys clapped their hands and cried: "Excellent! Excellent! Tomorrow we'll cross the ridges and climb the peaks, gather fruits of every kind, and lay a grand banquet to send the Great King on his way!"
The next day the monkeys went indeed to pick immortal peaches and rare fruits, to dig yams and Solomon's seal, and gathered fragrant orchids and wondrous flowers—everything, of every kind, all in goodly order. They set out stone stools and stone tables and arrayed immortal wines and delicacies. Just look:
Golden balls and pearly pellets, crimson-split and golden-plump. Golden balls, pearly pellets—winter cherries, lovely to see and sweet to the taste; Crimson-split, golden-plump—ripe plums, fragrant with a tart tang. Fresh longan with sweet flesh and paper-thin skin; Fire-red lychees with tiny pits and scarlet sacs. Green crabapples offered still upon the branch; Loquats in pale-yellow calyxes held up with their leaves. Hare-pear and chicken-heart jujube, quenching thirst, dispelling care and drunkenness. Fragrant peaches and melting apricots, sweet, sweet as jade nectar and golden syrup; Crisp plums and red bayberries, tart, tart as fresh butter and clotted cream. Watermelons ripe, red-fleshed and black-seeded; Great persimmons, four-cleft, in yellow skins. Pomegranates split open, cinnabar grains like fire-crystal pearls; Taro and chestnuts broken apart, their firm flesh like golden agate. Walnuts and ginkgo nuts fit to serve with tea; Coconuts and grapes fit to brew into wine. Hazelnuts, pine nuts, and torreya nuts heaped upon platters; Oranges, sugar-cane, mandarins, and citrons spread across the tables. Yams roasted soft, Solomon's seal stewed tender, Poria and coix seeds pounded fine and simmered slow in stone pots. Though the world of men may have its rare delicacies, How can they compare with the joy and peace of mountain monkeys?
The monkeys seated the Handsome Monkey King in the place of honor and ranged themselves below in order of age; one by one they came forward, offering wine, offering flowers, offering fruit, and they feasted and drank deep all day long.
The next morning the Handsome Monkey King rose early. "Little ones," he said, "go and break me some dead pine boughs and lash them into a raft; cut me a bamboo pole to serve as an oar, and pack up some fruits and the like—I am going away." Then he boarded the raft alone, pushed off with all his strength, and drifted and bobbed straight out onto the waves of the great sea. Riding the wind of Heaven, he crossed to the shores of the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa. This journey of his was truly:
A monkey of Heaven's own making, mighty in the Way, Leaving his mountain on a raft before the wind. Crossing oceans, seeking the immortal Way, Resolved, with single heart, to build a deed of merit. With fate and fortune his, he leaves the world's desires; Free of all sorrow, he shall meet the dragon of the source. Surely he will find a kindred spirit To speak the source and stream—and all the laws be clear.
And indeed his hour had come. From the moment he boarded the raft, a strong southeast wind blew day after day, until it carried him to the northwestern shore—the realm of the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa. Sounding the water with his pole and finding it shallow, he abandoned the raft, leapt ashore, and there on the coast he saw folk fishing, shooting wild geese, digging clams, and panning salt. He walked up to them, played one of his tricks, and put on a fearsome face—whereupon the people flung down their baskets and nets and scattered in all directions. He caught one who could not run, stripped off the man's clothes, and dressed himself in them after the manner of men. Then, swaggering and swaying, he crossed prefecture after prefecture, and in the market towns he learned the manners of men and the speech of men. Breakfasting at dawn and lodging at night, he gave his whole heart to seeking the Way of the Buddhas, the Immortals, and the Sages, hunting for a means of never growing old. But he saw that the people of this world were all of them runners in the race for fame and gain, and not one of them gave a thought to his own life.
Truly:
When will the scramble for fame and gain come to an end? Rising early, sleeping late—no freedom at all! Riding donkey or mule, they dream of noble steeds; Raised to prime minister, they covet rank of prince. They fret and toil over food and clothes alone— But do they never fear King Yama's summons drawing near? All for the wealth and rank to bless their sons and grandsons— Not one of them is willing to turn his head!
The Monkey King sought out the Way of the immortals, but fate withheld the meeting. In the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa he string-walked the Great Wall and wandered the small county towns, until eight or nine years had passed without his noticing. Then he came to the Western Ocean, and it occurred to him that beyond the sea there must surely be immortals. Alone as before, he built himself another raft, drifted across the Western Sea, and came at last to the shores of the Western Continent of Cattle-Gift. He landed and searched far and wide for a long time, until suddenly he saw a mountain, lofty and beautiful, its forested foothills deep and secluded. He feared no wolves or serpents, dreaded no tigers or leopards, but climbed to the mountaintop and looked all around.
It was indeed a fine mountain:
A thousand peaks arrayed like rows of halberds, Ten thousand fathoms unfolded like screens. Sunlight on the mountain haze lightly veils the green; The rain gone, the dark hues coolly hold their blue. Withered vines twine about ancient trees; An old ford marks the secluded road. Rare flowers and auspicious grasses, Tall bamboo and lofty pines— Tall bamboo and lofty pines, evergreen ten thousand years, outshining every blessed land; Rare flowers and auspicious grasses, unfading through the four seasons, rivaling Penglai and Yingzhou. The hidden birds cry, and the sound is near; The welling springs gurgle, and the water runs clear. In valley after valley, orchid and iris wind about; On every sheer-cut cliff, moss and lichen grow. The dragon-veins of these rolling crests are good— Some lofty hermit surely hides his name among them.
As he stood gazing, he suddenly heard voices from deep within the forest. He hurried toward the sound, threaded his way into the trees, and cocked an ear to listen: it was someone singing. The song went:
"I watch the game of chess until my axe-haft rots; I fell the timber—ding, ding, ding. Slowly I walk the cloudy edge of the valley's mouth, Sell my firewood, buy my wine, And laugh aloud, delighting in myself. Autumn stands high upon the gray-white path; Beneath the moon I pillow on a pine root, And sleep until the sky is light. I know the old woods—up the crags, across the ridges, Axe in hand to cut the withered vines. I gather it and bind it all into one load, Then walk singing to the market square And trade it for three measures of rice. No strife is there, no contest— Prices are fair, and even. I know no cunning schemes, no clever reckoning; No glory and no disgrace— In tranquil plainness I stretch out my years. Those whom I meet are immortals, or adepts of the Way: Sitting quiet, we discourse upon the Yellow Court."
At these words the Handsome Monkey King was overjoyed: "So the immortals were hiding here all along!" He bounded inside for a closer look, and found a woodcutter raising his axe to chop firewood. But see how remarkable his dress:
On his head a broad-brimmed hat of woven bamboo— The newly-shed sheath of spring bamboo shoots. On his body a garment of cloth— Yarn spun from the cotton tree. Round his waist a knotted sash with a ring— Silk from the mouth of an aged silkworm. On his feet sandals of straw— The tough fiber of dried sedge, twisted and plaited. In his hand an axe of honest steel; Across his shoulder a rope of hemp. Pines to bend and withered trees to split— What woodman's skill could ever match this man's?
The Monkey King drew near and called out: "Old Immortal! Your disciple salutes you!"
The woodcutter hastily dropped his axe and turned to return the greeting: "Heaven forbid! Heaven forbid! I'm a poor, clumsy fellow who can scarcely keep body and soul together—how could I dare be called an immortal?" The Monkey King said: "If you're not an immortal, how is it you speak the words of immortals?" The woodcutter said: "What immortal words have I spoken?" The Monkey King said: "When I came to the edge of the wood, I heard you say: 'Those whom I meet are immortals, or adepts of the Way; sitting quiet, we discourse upon the Yellow Court.' The Yellow Court is scripture of the true Way—what are you, if not an immortal?"
The woodcutter laughed: "I'll not hide it from you. That song is called 'A Courtyard Full of Fragrance,' and an immortal taught it to me. That immortal lives right next to my cottage. He saw that my household affairs were hard and that I was troubled day after day, so he taught me this song, saying that whenever worry came upon me I should sing it through—first to ease my heart, and second to drive off my weariness. Just now something was troubling me, and so I was singing it. Who could have thought you'd be listening?"
The Monkey King said: "Since you live right next to an immortal, why don't you follow him and cultivate the Way? Wouldn't it be fine to learn a means of never growing old?" The woodcutter said: "My whole life has been one of hardship. My parents raised me until I was eight or nine, when I first came to understand the ways of the world—and then, unhappily, my father died, and my mother was left a widow. I have no brothers or sisters, only me; there was nothing for it but to wait upon her morning and night. Now that my mother is grown old, I dare not leave her more than ever. And our fields have gone to waste, and we lack food and clothing, so all I can do is cut a couple of bundles of firewood and carry it to market to sell for a few coppers, buy a few measures of rice, cook and prepare the meals myself, and provide for my old mother. That is why I cannot go off and cultivate the Way."
The Monkey King said: "By what you say, you are a gentleman who does honor to his mother—good will surely come of it hereafter. Only point out to me where that immortal lives, so I may go and pay my respects." The woodcutter said: "Not far, not far. This mountain is called the Mountain of the Numinous Terrace and the Square Inch. In it there is a cave called the Cave of the Slanted Moon and Three Stars. In that cave lives an immortal known as the Patriarch Subodhi. The disciples who have gone out from the Patriarch are past all counting—there are thirty or forty still following him now. Follow that little path southward for seven or eight li, and you will come to his home."
The Monkey King caught the woodcutter by the hand: "Brother, come along with me! If I gain any good from this, I swear I'll never forget the kindness of your guidance." The woodcutter said: "What a man you are—so impractical! I've told you all this already, and you still don't take it in? If I went off with you, wouldn't that ruin my livelihood? Who would provide for my old mother? I'm going to cut my firewood. You go yourself. Go on—go!"
The Monkey King had no choice but to take his leave. Out of the deep wood he found the path, crossed over a hillside, and after some seven or eight li he saw, sure enough, a cave dwelling. He drew himself up and looked. What a place it was! Just look:
Mists and rosy clouds scattering their hues, Sun and moon swaying down their light. A thousand ancient cypresses, Ten thousand joints of tall bamboo— A thousand ancient cypresses, trailing rain, half-sky green softly waving; Ten thousand joints of tall bamboo, holding mist, one whole ravine deep in blue. Strange flowers spread brocade before the gate; Jade grasses breathe their fragrance by the bridge. The stone crags, jutting sharp, are moist with green moss; The hanging cliffs, spread high, are long with emerald lichen. Now and again an immortal crane is heard to cry; Every little while a phoenix is seen to soar. When the crane cries, its voice rings through the nine marshes to the farthest sky; When the phoenix soars, its plumes of five hues glitter in the rainbow clouds. Black gibbons and white deer appear and vanish; Golden lions and jade elephants come and go at will. Look closely at this blessed and numinous land— It truly rivals Heaven itself!
He saw that the cave door was shut fast, all still and silent, without a trace of anyone. Suddenly he turned, and there by the cliff stood a stone tablet, some three zhang and more in height and eight-odd chi in breadth, bearing ten great characters: "The Mountain of the Numinous Terrace and the Square Inch; the Cave of the Slanted Moon and Three Stars." The Handsome Monkey King was overjoyed: "The people of this place are honest folk after all. There really is such a mountain, such a cave." He gazed a long while, not daring to knock. Instead he leapt up into the pine branches, picked pine nuts, ate a few, and played.
After a little while he heard a creak—the cave door opened, and out came an immortal youth, strikingly noble in bearing, refined and singular of face, quite unlike the common run of men. Just look at him:
Twin tufts of knotted silk upon his head, Two sleeves of wind about his ample robe. His face and form are set apart from other men; His heart and aspect both are empty and clear. A long-time guest beyond the world of things, An everlasting youth amid the hills. Not one speck of dust can cling to him— Let the sixty-year cycles roll on as they will.
The boy came out the door and called loudly: "Who is making a disturbance out here?"
The Monkey King dropped from the tree, sprang forward, and bowed: "Immortal youth, I am a disciple come seeking the Way and learning to be an immortal—I'd never dare make a disturbance here." The boy laughed: "So you've come to seek the Way?" "I have," said the Monkey King. The boy said: "My master has just this moment left his couch and mounted the altar to expound the Way. Before he had even told us why, he sent me out to open the door, saying: 'There is a cultivator of the Way outside—go and receive him.' That must be you?" The Monkey King laughed: "It is, it is." "Then follow me in," said the boy.
The Monkey King straightened his robes, composed himself with dignity, and followed the boy straight into the depths of the cave heaven: tier upon tier of deep halls and jasper towers, court upon court of palaces of pearl and gates of shell—no tongue could tell of those still chambers and secluded abodes—until they came at last beneath the jasper terrace. There sat the Patriarch Subodhi enthroned, with thirty minor immortals standing in attendance on either side below. Truly:
The Great Enlightened Golden Immortal, of undefiled form— Patriarch Bodhi, of the wondrous aspect of the West. Unborn, undying, thrice-three in his works; Whole in breath and spirit, myriad-myriad in his mercy. Emptiness and stillness follow change at will; Suchness and true nature act as they please. A majestic body coeval with Heaven itself— A great master of the Law, his mind made clear through endless kalpas.
At the sight of him the Handsome Monkey King cast himself to the floor and kowtowed beyond all counting, crying out: "Master! Master! Your disciple comes with a devoted heart! A devoted heart!"
The Patriarch said: "Where are you from? First tell me plainly your district, your country, and your surname—then you may bow." The Monkey King said: "Your disciple hails from the Water Curtain Cave on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, in the country of Aolai, in the Eastern Continent of Superior Body." The Patriarch snapped: "Drive him out! The man is a fraud and a liar—what fruit of the Way could he ever attain?" The Monkey King kowtowed on and on without pause: "Your disciple speaks the honest truth—there is no deceit in me whatsoever." The Patriarch said: "If you are honest, how can you claim to come from the Eastern Continent? That place is separated from here by two great oceans and the whole Southern Continent of Jambudvipa—how could you ever have gotten here?" The Monkey King knocked his head upon the floor: "Your disciple crossed the oceans and wandered realm upon realm for ten-odd years, and only now have I found my way here."
The Patriarch said: "Very well then—since you truly walked your way here. What is your surname?"
The Monkey King said: "I have no xing."
[Translator's note: a pun—the Chinese xing means both "surname" and "temperament."]
"If people curse me, I feel no anger; if they strike me, I feel no wrath; I merely offer an apology, and there the matter ends. All my life, I have had no temper."
The Patriarch said: "Not that kind of xing. What was your parents' surname?" The Monkey King said: "I have no parents either." The Patriarch said: "No parents? Then surely you were born of a tree?" The Monkey King said: "Not of a tree, though I did grow out of a rock. All I remember is that there was an immortal stone on the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit, and in the year when that stone burst open, I was born."
Hearing this, the Patriarch was secretly delighted, and thought: "So then—he was engendered by Heaven and Earth themselves. Rise, then, and walk for me to see." The Monkey King sprang up and waddled back and forth a couple of times.
The Patriarch laughed: "Though your body is a sorry, ill-favored thing, you really do look like a husun—a macaque that lives on pine nuts. Let me give you a surname drawn from your own form. I should have you take the hu of husun. Drop the beast radical from the character hu, and you have gu and yue—'ancient moon.' Gu means old; yue means yin, the feminine principle. Old yin cannot quicken and beget—so better you take the sun of husun. Drop the beast radical from the character sun, and you have zi and xi. Zi means a son, a male child; xi means a tiny infant. That fits exactly the doctrine of the original infant. Your surname shall be Sun."
[Translator's note: the patriarch is playing with the written characters—hu (猢) "macaque" becomes gu-yue "ancient moon," which he rejects as inauspicious; sun (狲) "macaque" becomes zi-xi "child-infant," which he approves; and Sun (孙) is both "grandchild" and the sound of the second syllable of husun.]
When the Monkey King heard this he was overjoyed, and he kowtowed toward the altar: "Good! Good! Good! Only today do I have a surname at all! I beg your mercy, Master—since I now have a surname, I beg you bestow a name as well, that there may be something to call me by."
The Patriarch said: "Our school has twelve generational characters, and by their order you are the disciple of the tenth generation." The Monkey King asked: "Which twelve characters?" The Patriarch said: "They are Guang, Da, Zhi, Hui, Zhen, Ru, Xing, Hai, Ying, Wu, Yuan, Jue—Broad, Great, Wise, Sagely, True, Thus, Nature, Ocean, Bright, Awakened, Perfect, Enlightened. The generation that falls to you is Wu, 'Awakened.' What if your religious name were Sun Wukong—'Sun, Awakened to Emptiness'?"
The Monkey King laughed: "Good! Good! Good! From this day on, I shall be called Sun Wukong!"
Truly:
When primal chaos first was parted, there was no surname at all; To smash through stubborn emptiness, one must awaken to the Void.
But as for what fruits of the Way he was to cultivate hereafter—listen to the explanation in the next chapter.