In the winter of his fifty-sixth year, “on the third evening of the eighth week of the (meditation) session, after six hours of sitting in meditation, the attendant made his rounds, filling up the tea cups. The Master’s hand was burned by spilled boiling water, and his cup fell to the floor. At the sound of the crash, the root of his doubt was instantly severed. He was joyous beyond words at having fulfilled his lifelong ambition. It was as if he had just awakened from a dream, and he observed the conditions of the past unravel. If he had not fallen into the river and become gravely ill, if he had not met good advisors who plied him with both adversity and felicity, how would this present experience have been possible? The Master’s verse of explanation says:

“A cup fell down and struck the floor;
The sound of the crash
   was distinctly heard.
Emptiness was pulverized,
And the mad mind stopped
   on the spot.” (PB I 104)

In the final year of his life, the Venerable Master Xuyun composed the following verse:

This crazed fellow—
Where does he come from?
For no reason he sticks out his neck
During the Dharma-Ending Age.
Lamenting that the Sagely Path hangs
He stokes the flames to fry a sea bubble.
Not finding one who “knows his sound,”

He sighs in sorrow,
Yet his laughter pierces the void!
Scold him, he doesn’t gripe.
Ask him: why don’t you put it down?
“When will the masses’ suffering come to an end?
That’s when I will rest!”
(PB II, preface)

虛雲 [禪師] [Xuyun; Hsu Yun]

Xuyun, also spelled ‘Hsu Yun’, means (“Empty Cloud”) in Chinese