Journey to the West (vol. 1) Page 2

  To this the Monkey King replied, “Yes, we don't have to submit to the laws and regulations of human kings, and we don't live in terror of the power of birds and beasts. But the time will come when we are old and weak, and the underworld is controlled by the King of Hell. When the time comes for us to die, we won't be able to go on living among the Blessed, and our lives will have been in vain.” All the monkeys covered their faces and wept as everyone of them thought about death.

  Suddenly a gibbon jumped out from their ranks and shrieked in a piercing voice, “If Your Majesty is thinking so far ahead, this is the beginning of enlightenment. Now of the Five Creatures, there are only three that do not come under the jurisdiction of the King of Hell.”

  “Do you know which they are?” asked the Monkey King.

  “Yes,” the ape replied. “They are the Buddhas, the Immortals and the Sages. They are free from the Wheel of Reincarnation. They are not born and they do not die. They are as eternal as Heaven and Earth, as the mountains and the rivers.”

  “Where do they live?” the Monkey King asked.

  “Only in the human world,” the ape replied, “in ancient caves on magic mountains.” The Monkey King was delighted to hear this.

  “I shall leave you all tomorrow,” he said, “and go down the mountain. If I have to, I'll roam the corners of the oceans and go to the edge of the sky to find these three kinds of beings and discover the secret of eternal youth that will keep us out of the clutches of the King of Hell for ever.” Goodness! Because of these words he was to learn how to be free from the Wheel of Reincarnation and become the Great Sage Equaling Heaven.

  All the monkeys clapped with approval and said, “Great! Great! Tomorrow we'll climb all over the mountain and get lots of fruit to give Your Majesty a really big banquet to send you off.”

  The next day the monkeys set out to pick magic peaches, gather rare fruits, dig out yams, and cut Solomon's-seal. Magic fungus and fragrant orchid were collected, and everything was set on the stone benches and the stone tables, with fairy wine and dishes. You could see

  Golden pills and pearl pellets,

  Bursting red and plump yellow.

  The golden pills and pearl pellets were winter cherries, beautiful and sweet;

  The bursting red and plump yellow were ripe plums, tasty and sharp.

  Fresh, sweet-fleshed longans with thin skins.

  Fiery lichees with tiny stones in a red sack.

  Branch after branch of crab-apples,

  Yellow-skinned loquats with their leaves on.

  Rabbit-head pears and chicken-heart jujubes

  To quench your thirst, remove your cares, and sober you up.

  Fragrant peaches and tender apricots,

  As sweet and luscious as jade wine.

  Crisp plums and arbutus,

  As sharp as glistening yogurt.

  Ripe melons with red coats and black seeds,

  Big, four-sectioned persimmons with yellow skins.

  Bursting pomegranates:

  Cinnabar pips shining like fire-crystal pearls.

  Opened water-chestnuts

  With firm round flesh like golden agate.

  Walnuts and gingko fruits to eat with tea;

  Coconuts and grapes to make into wine.

  Dishes loaded with pine cones, yew-nuts, filberts, and crab-apples;

  Tangerines, sugar-cane and oranges covering the table.

  Hot roast yams,

  Tender boiled Solomon's-seal.

  Pounded china-root and Job's tears.

  Simmered in soup in a stone-pot.

  Although we humans have rare delicacies to eat,

  We are no happier than those monkeys in the mountains.

  The host of monkeys ushered the Handsome Monkey King to the seat of honour and sat down below him according to age. Each of them took it in turns to bring him wine, flowers, and fruit, and they drank hard for a whole day. The next morning the Handsome Monkey King got up early and ordered, “Children, tear down some old pines and make me a raft. Find a bamboo pole to punt with and load it up with fruit. I'm going.” He went aboard the raft all by himself, pushed off with all his might, and floated off towards the waves of the ocean. He intended to sail with the wind and cross over to the Southern Jambu Continent.

  The heaven-born monkey, whose conduct was so noble,

  Left his island to drift with heaven's winds.

  He sailed oceans and seas to find the Way of Immortality,

  Deeply determined to do a great deed.

  The predestined one should not have vulgar longings;

  He can attain the primal truth without care or worry.

  He is bound to find a kindred spirit,

  To explain the origins and the laws of nature.

  He had chosen just the right time for his journey. After he boarded his raft the Southeasterly wind blew hard for days on end and bore him to the Northwestern shore of the Southern Continent. Testing the depth of the water with his pole he found that it was shallow, so he abandoned the raft and jumped ashore. He saw humans by the coast, fishing, hunting geese, gathering clams, and extracting salt. He went up to them, leaping around and making faces, which so scared them that they dropped their baskets and nets and fled in all directions as fast as they could. The Monkey King grabbed one of them who was a poor runner, stripped him of his clothes, and dressed himself in them like a human. He swaggered through the provinces and prefectures, learning human behavior and human speech in the market places. Whether he was eating his breakfast or going to bed at nigh he was always asking about Buddhas, Immortals and Sages, and seeking the secret of eternal youth. He observed that the people of the world were too concerned with fame and fortune to be interested in their fates.

  When will the struggle for fame and fortune end?

  Toiling from morning till night, never pleasing yourself.

  Those who ride donkeys long for stallions,

  The Prime Minister always wants to be a prince.

  They only worry about having to stop work to eat or dress;

  They never fear that the King of Hell will come to get them.

  When trying to ensure their sons and grandsons inherit their wealth and power,

  They have no time to stop and think.

  Although he asked about the way of the Immortals, the Monkey King was unable to meet one. He spent eight or nine years in the Southern Jambu Continent, going through its great walls and visiting its little counties. When he found that he had reached the Great Western Ocean he thought that there must be Sages and Immortals on the other side of it, so he made himself another raft like the last one, and floated across the Western Ocean until he came to the Western Continent of Cattle-gift. He went ashore and made extensive and lengthy enquiries until one day he came upon a high and beautiful mountain, thickly forested on its lower slopes. Not fearing wolves, and undaunted by tigers or leopards, he climbed to the summit to see the view. It was indeed a fine mountain:

  A thousand peaks brandishing halberds,

  Screens ten thousand measures tall.

  In the sunlight the mountain haze is lightly touched with blue;

  After the rain the black rocks look coldly green.

  Withered creepers coil round ancient trees,

  And the old ford marks the bounds of the mysterious.

  Strange flowers and precious plants,

  Flourishing in all four seasons, rivaling fairyland.

  The nearby cry of a hidden bird,

  The clear running of a spring.

  Valley upon valley of mushroom and orchid,

  Lichen grows all over the cliffs.

  The range rises and dips in dragon-like majesty.

  Surely there mush be lofty hermits here.

  As he was looking at the view the Monkey King heard a human voice coming from the depths of the forest. He rushed into the trees, and when he cocked his ear to listen he heard a song:

  “Watching the chess game I cut through the rotten,

  Felli
ng trees, ding, ding,

  Strolling at the edge of the cloud and the mouth of the valley,

  I sell firewood to buy wine,

  Cackling with laughter and perfectly happy.

  I pillow myself on a pine root, looking up at the moon.

  When I wake up it is light.

  Recognizing the old forest

  I scale cliffs and cross ridges,

  Cutting down withered creepers with my axe.

  When I've gathered a basketful

  I walk down to the market with a song,

  And trade it for three pints of rice.

  Nobody else competes with me,

  So prices are stable.

  I don't speculate or try sharp practice,

  Couldn't care less what people think of me,

  Calmly lengthening my days.

  The people I meet

  Are Taoists and Immortals,

  Sitting quietly and expounding the Yellow Court.”

  The Monkey King was overjoyed to hear this, and he said with glee, “So this is where the Immortals have been hiding.” He bounded deeper into the woods for a closer look and saw that the singer was a woodcutter cutting firewood. He was wearing the most unusual clothes:

  On his head he wore a hat

  Woven from the first skin shed by new bamboo shoots.

  The clothes on his body

  Were made of yam from the wild cotton-tree.

  The belt round his waist

  Was of silk from an old silkworm.

  The straw sandals under his feet

  Had straps torn from rotten sago trees.

  In his hand he held a steel axe

  On his back he carried a hempen rope

  At climbing pines and felling dead trees,

  Who was a match for this woodcutter?

  The Monkey King went closer and called to him. “Old Immortal, your disciple greets you.”

  The woodcutter dropped his axe in astonishment and turned round to say, “No, no. I don't even have enough to eat or drink, so how can I possibly let you call me an Immortal?”

  “If you're not an Immortal,” the Monkey King said, “why do you talk like one?”

  “I don't talk like an Immortal,” the woodcutter said.

  “At the edge of the wood just now,” the Monkey King replied, “I heard you say, 'The people I meet are Taoists and Immortals, sitting quietly and expounding the Mantingfang.' The Mantingfang contains the truth about the Way, so if you're not an Immortal, what are you?” The woodcutter laughed.

  “It's quite true that the song is called 'The Fragrance of the Mantingfang,' and an Immortal who lives near my hut taught me it. He said he saw how hard I had to work and how I was always worried, so he made me sing this song when things were getting me down. It lightens my cares and makes me forget my weariness. I was singing it just now because I had some problems on my mind, and I never imagined that you would be listening.”

  “If you've got an Immortal for a neighbour, you ought to learn from him how to cultivate your conduct and get him to teach you a recipe for eternal youth.”

  “I've had a hard life,” the woodcutter replied. “My mother and father brought me up till I was about eight, and just when I was beginning to know about life my father died. My mother remained a widow, and I had no brothers or sisters. As I was the only child I had to look after my mother morning and night. Now she is old that I can't possibly leave her. Our land is so overgrown that I can't grow enough to feed and clothe both of us, so I have to cut a couple of bundles of firewood to sell in the market for a handful of coppers to buy the few pints of rice that I cook for myself and for my mother. That's why I can't cultivate my conduct.”

  “From what you say,” the Monkey King replied, “you're a filial son and a gentleman-you're bound to be rewarded for it one day. But I'd be grateful if you could show me where that Immortal lives, so that I can go and pay him my respects.”

  The woodcutter said, “It's not far from here. This mountain is the Spirit Tower Heart Mountain, and in it there is the Cave of the Setting Moon and the Three Stars. In that cave lives an Immortal called the Patriarch Subhuti. I don't know how many disciples he has trained-there are thirty or forty of them cultivating their conduct with him at the moment. If you take that path South for two or three miles you'll reach his home.”

  The Monkey King tugged at the woodcutter and said, “Take me there, Elder Brother. If I get anything out of this, I won't forget your kindness.”

  “You idiot,” the woodcutter replied, “didn't you understand what I told you just now? If I went with you I wouldn't be able to earn my living, and who would look after my poor old mother then? I've got to get on with my woodcutting. Go by yourself.”

  After hearing this the Monkey King had to take his leave. He came out of the forest and found the path, which led up a mountain slope for two or three miles, when he saw the cave. He pulled himself up to his full height to take a look, and it was a really magnificent place:

  Misty clouds scattered colours,

  Sun and moon shimmered bright.

  A thousand ancient cypresses,

  Ten thousand lofty bamboos.

  A thousand ancient cypresses,

  A soft green drawing the rain from the sky.

  Ten thousand lofty bamboos,

  And a misty valley is azure blue.

  Outside the gate rare flowers spread brocade;

  Beside the bridge wafts the scent of jade flowers.

  Rocky crags jut, glossy with green moss;

  On overhanging cliffs blue lichen grows.

  Sometimes the call of the crane is heard

  And often you see the phoenix soar.

  The call of the crane

  Echoes beyond the Ninth Heaven and the Milky Way.

  When the phoenix soars,

  The brilliance of its wings colours the clouds.

  Black apes and white deer can be just made out;

  Golden lions and jade elephants prefer to keep hidden.

  If you look closely at this happy land,

  You will see that it rivals paradise.

  He saw that the doors of the cave were shut fast, and that everything was still, with no signs of any people. He turned round and noticed that there was a stone tablet about thirty feet high and eight feet wide at the top of the cliff. On it was carved in enormous letters: SPIRIT-TOWER HEART MOUNTAIN, CAVE OF THE SETTING MOON AND THE THREE STARS. The Monkey King exclaimed with delight, “The people here really are honest. The mountain and the cave do exist.” He took a good long look, but did not dare to knock on the door. He climbed to the and of a pine branch and ate some pine seeds to amuse himself.

  Before long the doors of the cave opened with a creak, and an immortal boy came out. In the nobility of his bearing and the exceptional purity of his features he was completely different from an ordinary boy.

  His hair was bound with a pair of silken bands,

  His flowing gown had two capacious sleeves.

  His face and body were naturally distinguished;

  His mind and appearance were both empty.

  For many years a guest beyond the world of things,

  An eternal child amid the mountains,

  Untouched by any speck of dust,

  He let the years go tumbling by.

  When this boy had come out he shouted, “Who's making that row out here?”

  The Monkey King scampered down the tree, went up to him, and said with a bow, “Immortal child, I am a disciple who has come to ask about the Way and study under the Immortal. The last thing I'd do would be to make a row here?” The boy laughed.

  “So you've come to ask about the Way, have you?”

  “Yes,” the Monkey King replied.

  “Our master has just got up,” the boy said, “and has now mounted the dais to expound the Way. Before he had started to explain about origins he told me to open the door. He said, 'There is someone outside who wants to cultivate his conduct. Go and welcome him.' I suppose he must h
ave meant you.”

  “Yes, he meant me,” the Monkey King said with a smile.

  “Come with me,” the boy said.

  The Monkey King straightened his clothes and followed the boy deep into the depths of the cave. He saw majestic pavilions and towers of red jade, pearl palaces and gateways of cowry, and countless rooms of silence and secluded cells leading all the way to a jasper dais. He saw the Patriarch Subhuti sitting on the dais and thirty-six minor Immortals standing below it.

  A golden Immortal of great enlightenment, free from filth,

  Subhuti, the marvel of the Western World.

  Neither dying nor born, he practices the triple meditation,

  His spirit and soul entirely benevolent.

  In empty detachment he follows the changes;

  Having found his true nature he lets it run free.

  As eternal as Heaven, and majestic in body,

  The great teacher of the Law is enlightened through aeons.

  As soon as the Handsome Monkey King saw him he bowed low and knocked his head on the ground before him many times, saying, “Master, master, your disciple pays his deepest respects.”

  “Where are you from?” the Patriarch asked. “You must tell me your name and address before you can become my pupil.”

  “I come from the Water Curtain Cave in the Flowers and Fruit Mountain in the land of Aolai in the Eastern Continent of Superior Body,” replied the Monkey King.

  “Throw him out,” the Patriarch roared. “He's a liar and a cheat, and even if he tried cultivating his conduct he would get nowhere.”

  The Monkey King desperately kept hitting his head on the ground and said, “Your disciple spoke the truth. I promise I wasn't lying.”

  The Patriarch asked, “If you were speaking the truth, why did you say that you came from the Eastern Continent of Superior Body? Between here and the Eastern Continent there are two seas and the Southern Jambu Continent, so how could you possibly have come here from there?”