Biography of
Han Shan
Since many writers refer to Han Shan as a late 8th Century poet, I will assume he flourished from around 750 to 800 CE.
Han Shan is one of those Taoist-Chan Sages who are reported
to have enjoyed very long lives due in part to their sheer luck, all that fresh
air, gruel, pure water, long daily walks, rugged individualism, and all those
secret Taoist herbs and unusual exercises.
Han Shan was a hermit and poet of the T’ang Dynasty (618 – 906).
Red Pine tells us that political intrigue may have led the handicapped
young scholar-bureaucrat to flee the aftermath of the An Lu-shan Rebellion
in 760 and retreat to the cold mountains of far eastern China – for his
life.
Han Shan was considered, when an older man, to be an eccentric Taoist,
crazy saint, mountain ascetic mystic, and wise fool. He liked to play
pranks, tease, goof off, joke, and get friends laughing.
Most of Han Shan’s poems were written when he lived in the rugged
southern and far eastern mountains of China in what is currently
Fujiian (Fukien) Province.
He lived alone in caves and primitive
shelters in the rugged mountains in an area referred to as the
Heavenly Terrace (T’ien T’ai) Mountains.
Han Shan’s cave-hut was a
long one day’s hike from the Kuo-ch’ing monastery in the T’ien
T’ai Mountains.
The name Han Shan means:
Cold Cliff, Cold Mountain, or Cold Peak.
Han Shan is known in Japan as “Kanzan.”
One of Han Shan’s friends was Shih-te (Japanese “Jittoku”, English “Pick Up”).
He was an orphan raised at the Kuo-ch’ing monastery and a helper in the kitchen.
HAN SHAN
by D. T. Suzuki
“Han Shan and Shih-te are two inseparable characters in the history of Zen Buddhism, forming one of the most favourite subjects of Sumiye painting by Zen artists.
Han Shan was a poet-recluse of the T’ang dynasty.
His features looked worn out, and his body was covered in clothes all in tatters.
He wore a head gear made of birch-bark and his feet carried a pair
of sabots too large for them.
He frequently visited the Kuo-ch’ing monastery at T’ien-tai, where he was fed with whatever remnants there were from the monk’s table. He would walk quietly up and down through the corridors, occasionally talking aloud to himself or to the air.
When he was driven out, he would clap his hands and laughing loudly would leave the
monastery.”
– D. T. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism, Third Series, 1953, p. 160
