Okay, here is the translation following your instructions: Zen Outside of Zen

Author: Zhang Zhongxing
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2005-01-16
Features: Buddhism, doctrines or Buddhist principles, originate from a certain perspective on life, or a certain solution to life's problems. Therefore, when discussing Zen or Buddhism, it is like tracing the source of the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers—life must be the starting point.
[Preface] A Postscript to Zen Beyond Zen
I have known Mr. Zhang Zhongxing for over forty years. Initially, we often met in small antique shops. The gentleman enjoyed collecting inkstones and some calligraphy by scholars, neither competing for rarity nor indulging in obsessive hunting. When holding an item, he always seemed to be indecisive about whether to buy it or not. If someone else bought it, he never showed regret, nor did he rush to look for something far away. To say it in a way that might be considered a fault, I once thought he was merely a "half-timer" in the field.
Gradually, through many "movements" that bewildered the masses, Mr. Zhang remained as if he were a dull-minded simpleton. I couldn’t help but wonder: given his deep interest in antiques and his broad knowledge of scholarship, his life was modest and unpretentious, and his actions were neither overly generous nor overly stingy—clearly a person with a strong sense of justice. Yet when faced with several new things that could only be considered extraterrestrial in origin, he remained indifferent, as if he hadn’t noticed them at all, let alone commented on them.
Afterward, I consciously sought to understand him better through friends. I learned that Mr. Zhang was a philosopher with profound expertise. When I heard the name "philosopher," I had encountered various faces: some spoke only in the words of Western philosophers, inserting foreign terms into their conversations, then asking, "How would this term be expressed in Chinese?" and adding another sentence in Chinese that others didn’t understand, as if that concluded the argument. Others quoted half of translated ancient Chinese philosophical texts and lectured for decades, eventually concluding that Zheng Xiaoxu’s seven-character regulated verse was excellent in literature, and Cheng-Zhu Neo-Confucianism was excellent in philosophy. Some were wealthy individuals who casually lectured on scriptures, spending days or even weeks on just one topic, truly not letting fifty thousand words of annotations explain "the ancient way," nor would they write a purchase agreement for a donkey without the word "donkey" on several pages. After listening, people exchanged glances, clasped their hands in silent understanding. Others, exceeding even Jia Baoyu’s "seeking sorrow and resentment for no reason," were instead "seeking grievances and hatred for no reason," pretending to be the "iron-faced" monk Faxiu of the Song Dynasty, claiming, "Only I am a philosopher," while others were mere beings to be liberated from the cycle of rebirth. Such cases are countless. This made me avoid philosophy altogether, let alone its "masters."
When I learned that Mr. Zhang was indeed a philosopher, I was genuinely taken aback. I then browsed through the publications he had compiled, only a few copies of Modern Buddhism remained, with many pen names, and I didn’t know which articles were his. However, I had heard that when the magazine lacked submissions, he often wrote the missing parts himself, so it was clear that many articles were written by him. Casting a wide net, there must be a few "authentic Zhang-style" pieces among them. The terminology was so familiar, and the philosophical insights were often deeply humanistic and guiding, clearly not just for show to the monks. Could this philosopher truly be so "Zen on the outside, worldly on the inside"?
After many more years, Mr. Zhang suddenly handed me a stack of manuscripts, asking me to review them, even giving me a daunting task—to write a preface. I glanced at the title of the stack, and it was boldly Zen Beyond Zen. I clapped my hands and laughed, saying, "The preface is already written." The gentleman asked, "Where is the preface?" I replied, "In these four words—Zen Beyond Zen—I have already completed the preface." My reasoning was: anyone who truly understands Zen knows that the ancestors, such as the Bodhidharma, did not rely on words. How could there be "inner and outer"? The principle is so clear! If someone discusses how Zen is or should be, or how it should be within its own realm, they have already fundamentally denied the Bodhidharma and Zen. I have also read a few books on Zen, and the more they were written by experts within the tradition, the less I understood. I dare say not only did I not understand them, but even the illiterate Sixth Patriarch Huineng would not have understood them. If you add another 8,400 prefaces, even the Bodhidharma himself would not understand. The strength of this manuscript lies in the phrase "Zen Beyond Zen." Standing outside the gate, one naturally understands how those who don’t understand Zen fail to do so, and what they say must be comprehensible to those who don’t. Why then the need for a preface!
According to Mr. Zhang’s manuscript, it is undoubtedly written to benefit and delight sentient beings, starting from wisdom and compassion, with writing as a means. If there is a preface that helps readers gain a step forward, it naturally adds to the ease of understanding. Below, I will mention a book that can serve as a stepping stone for reading Zen Beyond Zen, rather than any words I write here. The book is called Sunlight and Dust, also written by Mr. Zhang Zhongxing. It contains his recollections of his teachers and friends from his time at Peking University decades ago, as well as other trivial matters. Some of these people were still alive until the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, so the book touches on some events from that period. He seems to possess a great vow of compassion, but employs a light and effortless tone. The language is clearly sharp and witty, yet it conveys a burning passion. It almost makes one think he is "pretending to be foolish," but I believe every word is filled with the highest Zen principles. The reason is very clear: the pine tree in front of the courtyard has nothing to do with the meaning of the Bodhidharma’s coming from the West. The role of scriptures is not just to blind people? The Buddha prohibits killing, yet why did Nanquan kill a cat? An iron-cast ox—how could a mosquito bite it? Such examples allow Zen practitioners to understand Zen, while ordinary people laugh. Reading Sunlight and Dust before reading Zen Beyond Zen can serve as a stepping stone for the latter; reading it after can serve as notes. This is the preface.
Someone asked: You wrote "postscript" politely earlier, yet now you boldly call it a "preface"—what is the reasoning behind this? I respectfully reply: Prefaces are always written after the book is completed. If a preface exists before the book is even read, it must be a self-deceptive lie. Therefore, all prefaces are written after reading the book. However, Mr. Zhang assigned me to write a preface, and if I submit it without mentioning the word "preface," what should I do if he asks for a second one? Thus, I must address the title. If these over a thousand words are adopted, I have no control over whether they will be placed at the beginning or end of the book when printed. Only the three characters "postscript" in the title—I solemnly declare they will remain unchanged.
Qigong 1988.7.20