Yakusan's i chu tzu is no other than chih, "unknown and unknowable" It is the ultimate reality, the Godhead, in which there are no distinctions whatever and to which, therefore, the intellect cannot give any predicate, this or that, good or bad, right or wrong. To talk about it is to negate it. When Yakusan begins to talk about it either negatively or positively, his i chu tzu is no longer present. Doogo is right, therefore, in accusing his master of contradicting himself. But we can also say that Doogo has to share the same accusation he is throwing against the other. As far as human intellect is concerned, we can never escape this contradiction. Yakusan fully realizes this, but he cannot help himself inasmuch as he is also a human individual. The following records we have of him in The Transmission of the Lamp (fasc. 14) show clearly where he stands:

　　 A monk once asked him, "I have yet no clear knowledge of my self and may I ask you to indicate the way to it?"

　　 Yakusan remained silent for a while and then said, "It is not difficult for me to give you a word (i chu) about it. But what is needed of you is to see it instantly as the word is uttered. Then you may have something of it. But when you are given up to reflection

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15. The Transmission of the Lamp, fasc. 14, under Ta-tien.
16. Yaoshan Wei-yen, 754-834, The Transmission of the Lamp, fasc. 14.

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or intellection (ssu liang 思量 ) to any degree I shall be committing a fault myself and shall be blamed for it. It is better, therefore, to keep one's mouth tightly closed and let no trouble come out that way."

His is an honest confession.

　　 The i chu tzu is an inner experience and defies expression in words, for words are mere symbols and cannot be the thing in itself. But as words are such a convenient medium, one we have invented for mutual communication, we are apt to take them for realities. Money represents a good which is of real value, but we are so used to money that we manipulate it as if it were the value itself. Words are like money. The Zen masters know that, hence their persistent and often violent opposition to words and then to the intellect which deals exclusively in words. This is the reason they appeal to the stick, the hossu (fu-tzu 拂子 ), the "Ho!" and to various forms of gesture. Even these are far from being the ultimate itself; the masters have faced a very difficult task in trying to convey what they have within themselves. Strictly speaking, however, there is no conveying at all. It is the awakening of the same experience in others by means of words, gestures, and anything the master finds suitable at the moment. There are no prescribed methods; there is no methodology already set down in formulas.

　　 To get further acquainted with the nature of chih, or praj~naa-intuition, let me quote more from The Transmission of the Lamp, which is the mine of the mondo and other Zen materials necessary for understanding Zen as far as such records are concerned.

　　 A monk came to Doogo Yenchi (Tao-wu Yen-chih, 779-835) and asked, "How is it that the Bodhisattva of No-miracles leaves no traceable footsteps?"

　　 "Leaving no footsteps" has a technical meaning in Zen. This is what is expected of a highly trained Zen master. We ordinary people leave all kinds of footmarks by which our inner life can be detected and assessed. And this inner life is always found to be tainted with selfishness and motives arising from it and also with intellectual calculations designed for their execution. To leave no traces thus means to be above creaturely mindedness in Christian terms. It is, metaphysically speaking, to transcend both affirmation and negation, to be moving in the realm of oneness and sameness, and, therefore, to be leading a life of purposelessness (anaabhogacaarya) or of unattainability (anupalabdha). This is one of the most important notions in the philosophy of Zen. To trace the tracelessness of the Zen master's life is to have an "unknown knowledge" of the ultimate reality. Now let us see what answer was given by Doogo Yenchi (Tao-wu Yen-chih 道吾圓智 ). It was simply this:

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"One who goes with him knows it." ("Him" means the "Bodhisattva of No-miracles.")
The monk asked, "Do you know, O master?"
Doogo said, "I do not know."
The monk wanted to know the reason for his ignorance. "Why do you not, master?"
The master gave up the case. "You do not understand what I mean."

　　 Now Doogo is no agnostic. He knows everything. He knows the monk through and through. His no-knowledge (pu-chih) is not to be "approached intellectually." It is of the same category as his pu shih when he answered Gohoo's (Wu-feng) question: "Do you know Yakusan, the old master?" Gohoo wanted to know the reason, asking, "Why do you not know him?" Doogo said, "I do not, I do not." His answer was quite emphatic, as we see from his repetition of negation. This is a most flagrant repudiation of the "historical" fact, because Doogo was one of the chief disciples of Yakusan. This was well known among his contemporaries. Therefore, Gohoo's asking was not at all an ordinary question which called for information regarding human relationship. Doogo knew this full well, hence his "I do not know" (pu shih pu shih 不識不識 ).