Master Wenhui, Yingfu, lives on top of Jade Ravine in Chengdu. He has built himself a pavilion there called Refreshing Winds, and he sent me a letter asking that I compose an inscription for it. I declined five times but he became all the more insistent. Having no choice, now in jest I use Buddhist words to ask him this question:

Fu, what you call your body is something that you temporarily lodge in, and what you call your pavilion is something in which you temporarily lodge in. You cannot permanently possess either your body or your pavilion.

What is the purpose then of naming the building? And if it is not to be named, why should it have an inscription?

Nevertheless, out of consideration for you I will now free my mind, forget my form, and force myself to speak. You free your mind, forget your form, and force yourself to listen.