Sun Deng (recluse)

Ji Kang stories

Shenxian zhuan

Sun Deng's origin is not known. He stayed in the mountains, sitting in caves, strumming the zither and studying the Changes. Winter or summer he wore only a single-layer garment, but when the weather grew extremely cold, someone observed him loosen his hair and use it to cover his body. It was over ten feet in length. When the Grand Mentor Yang Jun 楊駿 sent a messenger to invite Sun Deng to converse with him, Sun made no reply. Yang Jun then sent him a lined cloth robe as a gift. Upon its delivery, Sun came out from his gate, borrowed someone's knife, and cut the robe in two; he then placed the upper and lower halves in separate places outside Yang's gate. He also made a loud sound as if he were being cut in two. At the time, people thought him mad. Only later did they realize that Yang would be executed that way and that Sun was doing this as a symbolic prediction. Yang had him arrested and would not release him, so Sun died. Yang furnished a coffin and had him buried near Zhen Bridge. Several days later someone spotted him at Dongma Hill, so this person sent a letter to a friend of his in Luoxia. Ji Shuye , who had ambitions to outstrip his era, once visited Sun Deng. Sun would not speak with him. When Ji raised objections, Sun calmly strummed his zither, until, after a long time, Ji finally stepped back. Sun then said, "Young man, you have excellent talent, but you lack knowledge of how to preserve the body. How will you avoid ?" Now Ji was skilled at playing the zither. At this point, Sun, using only one string, played a whole tune, and Ji, hearing it, sighed and became lost in thought.

Shishuo xinyu

During the Chia-p'ing era some people of Chi Prefecture had gone into the mountains, where they saw a man. The place where he lived was an overhanging cliff rising a hundred jen, where dense woods grew in shady luxuriance, yet his spirit and intelligence were extremely bright. He said of himself that his surname was Sun and his name, Teng, with the courtesy name, Kung-ho. When he heard of him, Hsi K'ang followed him about for three years. K'ang asked for his prognosis concerning his own future, but Teng never answered. However, K'ang always sighed in respectful admiration over the fine subtlety contained in his godlike counsels. When K'ang was about to take his leave, he said to the man, "Sir, have you nothing, after all, to say?" Teng finally answered, "Do you know anything about fire? When it is lit it gives light. Yet knowing when not to use the light is, after all, included in knowing when to use it. When a man is born he is endowed with ability. Yet knowing when not to use his ability is, after all, included in knowing when to use it. Thus, knowing when to use light is included in getting enough fuel to keep it burning, and knowing when to use ability is included in understanding things well enough to complete one's allotted years. Now your ability is abundant, but your understanding slight. You'll have difficulty avoiding trouble in today's world. Don't ask me anything more." K'ang was unable to use his advice, and when he became involved in the Lü An affair and was cast into prison, he composed a poem reproaching himself, as follows: "In the past I used to blush before Liu-hsia Hui, But now I am ashamed before Sun Teng."

Zengxiang liexian zhuan

Sun Teng dwelt in a cave on the North Mountain in the prefecture of Chi . In summer, he made himself garments of plaited straw; in winter he covered himself only with his long hair. He was an expert in the art of whistling without a break, and he loved to read the Canon of Changes and to thrum a one-stringed lute. By temperament he was prone neither to joy nor to anger. Once, we are told, in the hope of seeing him angry, a man pitched him into the river, but when Sun Teng had scrambled out, he only burst into fits of laughter. The high-born statesman Hsi K'ang accompanied him in his wanderings for three years, yet whenever he questioned his Master about his aims, he could get no reply. When about to leave him, Hsi K'ang said: "After all this time, Sir, have you no word for me?" Sun Teng replied: "You know what fire is, don't you? It has the natural property of giving light, but not of using that light; yet its importance depends on the use made of its light. In man, intellectual capacity is a natural gift, but not the use made of that capacity; yet his worth depends on the use he makes of it. The use of light is contingent on a supply of fuel wherewith to preserve its radiance; and the use of intellect consists in acquiring a knowledge of Pure Truth so as to keep one's life immune from harm." Hsi K'ang also asked for instruction in playing the lute, but Sun Teng would not teach him. "Your intellectual capacity is great," he said, "but your knowledge is small. It will be difficult for you to pass unscathed through the world of to-day." … In the end, Sun Teng rose up to heaven in broad daylight

Ruan Ji stories

Shishuo xinyu

When Juan Chi whistled , he could be heard several hundred paces away. In the Su-men Mountains there appeared from nowhere a Realized Man about whom the woodcutters were all relaying tales. Juan Chi went to see for himself and spied the man squatting with clasped knees by the edge of a cliff. Chi climbed the ridge to approach him and then squatted opposite him. Chi rehearsed for him briefly matters from antiquity to the present, beginning with an exposition of the Way of Mystical Quiescence of the Yellow Emperor and Shen Nung, and ending with an investigation of the excellence of the Supreme Virtue of the Three Ages. But when Chi asked his opinion about it he remained aloof and made no reply. Chi then went on to expound that which lies beyond Activism , and the techniques of Resting the Spirit and Conducting the Vital Force . But when Chi looked toward him for a reply, he was still exactly as before, fixedly staring without turning. Chi therefore turned toward him and made a long whistling sound . After a long while the man finally laughed and said, "Do it again." Chi whistled a second time , but as his interest was now exhausted, he withdrew. He had returned about half-way down the ridge when he heard above him a shrillness like an orchestra of many instruments, while forests and valleys reechoed with the sound. Turning back to look, he discovered it was the whistling of the man he had just visited .

Juan Chi often went riding alone wherever his fancy led him, not following the roads or byways, to the point where carriage tracks would go no farther, and always he would return weeping bitterly. Once while he was wandering in the Su-men Mountains there was a recluse living there whose name no one knew, and whose only possessions were a few hu-measures of bamboo fruit, a mortar and pestle, and nothing more. When Juan Chi heard of him he went to see him and began conversing on the Way of Non-action of high antiquity, and went on to discuss the moral principles of the Five Emperors and Three August Ones. The Master of Su-men remained oblivious and never even looked his way. Chi then with a shrill sound made a long whistling whose echoes reverberated through the empty stillness. The Master of Su-men finally looked pleased and laughed. After Chi bad gone down the hill, the Master gathered his breath and whistled shrilly with a sound like that of the phoenix. Chi had all his life been a connoisseur of music, and he borrowed the theme of his discussion with the Master of Su-men to express what was in his heart in a song, the words of which are: "The sun sets west of Mt. Pu-chou; The moon comes up from Cinnabar Pool. Essence of Yang is darkened and unseen; While Yin rays take their turn to win. His brilliance lasts but for a moment; her dark will soon again be full. If wealth and honor stay but for a trice must poverty and low estate be evermore?"

Jin shu

Once Chi met Sun Teng on Su-men Mountain. touched on topics of ancient times, and on the arts of "posing the spirit" and "leading the breath." Teng kept silent throughout. As a result, Chi expelled a long whistle , and took his leave. When he had descended halfway down the mountain, he heard a sound like the cry of the phoenix resounding throughout the peaks and valleys. It was the whistling of Teng .

Xiaozhi

The 'Su Men' was composed by the Taoist Immortal Recluse, who lived in the Su Men Mountains. The Holy One transmitted, he did not make it. The Immortal transmitted Kuang Ch'eng and Wu Kuang 務光 in order to rejoice the spirit and expand the Tao. He did not regard music as the main task. In olden days there were those who roved in Su Men listening to the phoenix' songs. The notes were exquisitely clear, very different from the so-called pretended phoenix. The phoenix makes sounds but humans cannot hear them. How then can the Su Family know the sound of the phoenix? Hereafter, when seeking the sound, bring up the Immortal's whistle. The Immortal's whistle does not stop at fostering the Tao and gratifying the spirits; for indeed, in everyday affairs it brings harmony into the world, and peace in season. In oneself the Tao never dies, in objective matters it assists all that is sacred, and conducts the Five Influences. In the arcana of Nature order prevails. For success in obtaining response nothing approaches music. The Immortal has evolved the one successful form. As to all wild things whistling is the one thing needful. Yuan Szu-tsung of Chin was a fine whistler. Hearing that the Immortal thought himself his equal, he went to visit him. The Immortal remained seated with his hair in disorder. Yuan bowed repeatedly and inquired after his health. Thrice and again thrice he addressed his host. The Immortal maintained his attitude and made no response. Chi then whistled some score of notes and left. The Immortal, estimating that his guest had not gone far, began to whistle the Ch'ing Chueh to the extent of four or five movements. But Chi perceived that the mountains and all growing things took on a different sound. Presently came a fierce whirlwind with pelting rain, followed by phoenixes and peacocks in flocks; no one could count them. Chi was alarmed, but also pleased, and he returned home and wrote down the story. He obtained only two-tenths of it, and called it 'Su Men'. This is what they tell there. The motif of the song is lofty mountains and wide marshes, great heights and distances.

The 'Loose Rhymes of the Yuan' were really composed by Yuan Chi. The rhymes are free and easy; hence the title. … Both persons of refinement and culture and commonplace and mean folk can listen with appreciation. The majesty of the heavenly principle, purged from all miasmic influence, may mingle with the ordinary music of the Hsuan and the Ch'ih, and the music of Cheng and Yueh enter the ear. Most good whistlers can perform this air. Whenever persons retired in the woods and by springs puff out wind and by accident produce a rhymed sound, if their attempt misses success, it is simply a misfire; if it is completely successful then it remains. The above gives a general idea of the 'Loose Rhymes of the Yuan'.

is extravagant talk, and not usually accepted. But the twelve methods are found in Sun Teng and Yuan Chi, so that we can truly say we have the general purport of Whistling. The Preface also says that Sun Teng did not hand on to anyone, and after Yuan Chi it disappeared and was no more heard. … Now the voice of man is the voice of the universe. Man may be ancient or modern, but sound is eternal, never new or old. Now this book is going forth and who knows whether a Sun or Yuan may not appear in some mountains or woods and, that being so, who can say that there is an end to Whistling?

Hushao

An old legend of the celebrated encounter between the two men has Ruan Ji visiting Sun Deng in his hermitage but not receiving any responses to his questions. Thereupon, he withdraws and, halfway up a distant mountain, lets out a loud, piercing whistle. This is followed by Sun Deng's magnificent whistled reply, which inspires Ruan Ji to write the "Biography of Master Great Man," an encomium in praise of the Taoist "true man" that also satirizes the conventional Confucian "gentleman".

When the sound of whistling rose beneath the sunny empyrean, Sun Deng shuddered as though it were a bolt out of the blue. Shielding his eyes from the strong light with one hand, he saw Ruan Ji standing on the peak of Su Gate Mountain beneath a solitary tree. Against a backdrop of white clouds like thick cotton fleece, he stood motionless, seeing to wait for Sun Deng's answer. Sun Deng looked all around him, then quietly inserted his thumb and forefinger in his mouth—the extreme frailness of his body and the looseness of his teeth caused him to be unable to produce any sound. The shrill, desolate, plaintive whistle, accompanied by the soughing of the billowing pines, reverberated for a long time in the mountain valleys. It was like the sad wail of the poet who died long ago, penetrating through the barriers of time, continuing up till today, and sinking into the easily awakened dreams of a living person.