Ryūgin

calligraphy
The Dragon's Roar

Presentation

The "Ryūgin" (龍吟), the sixty-first chapter of the Shōbōgenzō, was composed by Dōgen on the twenty-fifth of December, 1244, at Etsu Temple (present-day Kōshōji) and copied at Eiheiji in 1279. The text is structured around a famous kōan featuring Master Touzi Cong (Tōsu Gisei, 819-914) and a monk who asks, "In the withered tree, is there still the roar of the dragon?" Touzi's response, "My way says: in the skull, there is the roar of the lion," serves as the starting point for a profound meditation on the hidden vitality within what appears inert and desiccated.

Dōgen begins by radically distinguishing the notion of "withered tree" (枯木) as understood by heterodox thinkers, for whom it evokes a state of decay and extinction, from that of the buddhas and patriarchs, for whom it signifies "the profound study of the dried-up sea." He thus overturns the traditional image: the withered tree is not the end of life, but another form of its total presence. Desiccation becomes the very condition for encountering spring, and the buds that emerge from it are already the "roar of the dragon of the withered tree." This perspective extends to all phenomena: the trees of the mountains (pines, cypresses) and the "trees of the fields and villages" (human and divine beings) are all, according to the distribution of their "roots and leaves," buddhas and patriarchs. The withered tree thus possesses its own "long dharmakāya" and its "short dharmakāya."

The second part of the chapter examines variations on this theme within the Chan lineage. Dōgen first cites Master Xiangyan Zhixian (Kyōgen Chikan, d. 898) who, when questioned about the Way, responds, "The roar of the dragon in the withered tree," and then clarifies in the face of the monk's incomprehension: "The eye in the skull." He then recounts the commentaries of two of his descendants: Shishuang Qingzhu (Sekisō Keisho, 807-888), who associates the roar with "still bearing joy" and the eye with "still bearing consciousness"; and Caoshan Benji (Sōzan Honjaku, 840-901), for whom the roar means that "the bloodline is not interrupted" and the eye that "it is not completely dried up." Dōgen glosses each of these responses, seeing in them not conceptual explanations, but the very activity of the dharma manifesting itself: "still bearing joy" is also "horns growing on the head," "the bloodline is not interrupted" is "the gourd succeeding the gourd." He finally emphasizes the universal scope of Caoshan's statement: "Throughout the great earth, there is not a single one who does not hear it." The roar of the dragon is not a metaphorical sound reserved for the awakened; it is the incessant expression of reality through all phenomena, from the croaking of the frog to the song of the earthworm, forming clouds and water, in an unbroken melody that precedes and transcends any distinction between life and death, dryness and freshness.

Master Ciji of Mount Touzi in Shuzhou, when a monk asked, "Within a withered tree, is there still a dragon's roar?" replied, "My Way says, within a skull there is a lion's roar." The discourse of withered trees and dead ashes is originally the teaching of non-Buddhist paths. However, the withered tree spoken of by non-Buddhist paths and the withered tree spoken of by the buddhas and ancestors are vastly different. Though non-Buddhist paths speak of withered trees, they do not know the withered tree; how much less could they hear the dragon's roar?

Non-Buddhist paths think the withered tree is a rotten tree; they learn that it "cannot encounter spring." The withered tree of the Way of the buddhas and ancestors is the practice of the sea drying up. The sea drying up is the tree withering; the tree withering is encountering spring. The tree's not moving or clinging is withering. The present mountain trees, sea trees, and empty trees are all this withered tree. Sprouting buds are also the withered tree's dragon's roar. Even those of a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand circumferences are descendants of the withered tree.

The form, nature, essence, and power of withering are the withered stump of the Way of the buddhas and ancestors. It is not a withered stump. There are mountain valley trees; there are village field trees. Mountain valley trees are called pines and cypresses in the world. Village field trees are called humans and devas in the world. Depending on the root, the leaves are distributed—this is called the buddhas and ancestors. "Root and tip must return to the source"—this is practice. Thus, there is the long Dharma-body of the withered tree; there is the short Dharma-body of the withered tree. If it is not a withered tree, it has not yet roared like a dragon; if it has not yet become a withered tree, it has not missed the dragon's roar. "How many times encountering spring without changing mind" is the dragon's roar of complete withering. Though it is said to be "not grouped with gong, shang, jue, zhi, yu," these five notes are the two or three disciples before and after the dragon's roar.

Yet, the monk's question, "Within a withered tree, is there still a dragon's roar?" has for the first time within immeasurable kalpas appeared as a question-head; it is the appearance of the story-head. Touzi's saying, "My Way says, within a skull there is a lion's roar," is "What place is there to hide?" It is "Bending oneself and pushing others, not yet ceasing." Skulls are everywhere in the fields.

Master Xiangyan, the Inheritor of the Lamp, was once asked by a monk, "What is the Way?" The master said, "A dragon's roar within a withered tree." The monk said, "I do not understand." The master said, "Eyeballs within a skull." Later, a monk asked Shishuang, "What is 'a dragon's roar within a withered tree'?" Shuang said, "It still carries joy." The monk said, "What is 'eyeballs within a skull'?" Shuang said, "It still carries consciousness." Also, a monk asked Caoshan, "What is 'a dragon's roar within a withered tree'?" Shan said, "The bloodline is unbroken." The monk said, "What is 'eyeballs within a skull'?" Shan said, "It is never dried up." The monk said, "I wonder, is there anyone who gets to hear it?" Shan said, "Throughout the entire great earth, there is not a single one who does not hear." The monk said, "I wonder, what kind of verse is this dragon's roar?" Shan said, "I also do not know what kind of verse it is." Those who heard it were all lost. Now, those who would speak of a hearer or a chanter are not equal to one who chants the dragon's roar. This melody is the dragon's roar. "Within a withered tree, within a skull"—this is not inside or outside, not self or other.

It is now and it is ancient. "It still carries joy" is further the sprouting of horns; "It still carries consciousness" is the skin being completely shed. Caoshan's saying "the bloodline is unbroken" is the Way not being concealed. It is turning the body within the vein of speech. "It is never dried up" is the ocean drying up yet the bottom not being exhausted; because "not exhausted" is "dried," upon dryness there is further dryness. His saying "is there anyone who gets to hear it?" is like saying "is there anyone who does not get it?" "Throughout the entire great earth, there is not a single one who does not hear"—this should be questioned further.

Setting aside "there is not a single one who does not hear," when the entire great earth is not yet, where is the dragon's roar? Speak quickly, speak quickly! "I wonder, what kind of verse is this dragon's roar?"—this question should be asked. The roaring dragon is, of itself, the lifting and holding within the mud that makes a sound. It is the exhalation within the nostrils. "I also do not know what kind of verse it is"—within the verse there is a dragon. "Those who heard it were all lost"—this is regrettable.

Now, the dragon's roar of Xiangyan, Shishuang, and Caoshan comes, making clouds, making water. They do not say "the Way," they do not say "eyeballs" or "skull." It is only the thousand tunes, the ten thousand tunes of the dragon's roar. "It still carries joy" is also the croaking of a frog; "It still carries consciousness" is also the chirping of an earthworm. Because of this, the bloodline is unbroken; it is a gourd succeeding a gourd. Because it is "never dried up," a pillar becomes pregnant and gives birth; it is a lantern facing a lantern.

The True Dharma-Eye Treasury, The Dragon’s Song, Number Sixty-One: The great Way of the buddhas and ancestors is simply to sit, to sit fixedly; this is the zazen that is the dropping away of body and mind. It is not the zazen of the two vehicles, nor the zazen of the outsiders, nor the zazen of the common person. It is the zazen of the buddhas and ancestors. Therefore, the zazen of the buddhas and ancestors is the zazen of the buddhas and ancestors; it is not the zazen of the two vehicles, nor the zazen of the outsiders, nor the zazen of the common person. The zazen of the buddhas and ancestors is the zazen of the buddhas and ancestors; it is not the zazen of the two vehicles, nor the zazen of the outsiders, nor the zazen of the common person. This is the zazen of the buddhas and ancestors.

Translated from classical Japanese based on the text established by the CBETA database (Chinese Buddhist Electronic Text Association). Shōbōgenzō, fascicle 61. Eihei Dōgen Zenji (1200–1253).

Original text in classical Japanese (文語). Ryūgin, chapter 61. Eihei Dōgen Zenji (1200–1253). Translation: DeepSeek V3.2 via Amazon Bedrock.

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Shōbōgenzō ch.61 — Ryūgin (龍吟)
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