肇論 1.11

1.11

《道行》云：「諸法本無所從來，去亦無所至。」《中觀》云：「觀方知彼去，去者不至方。」斯皆即動而求靜，以知物不遷，明矣。夫人之所謂動者，以昔物不至今，故曰動而非靜。我之所謂靜者，亦以昔物不至今，故曰靜而非動。動而非靜，以其不來；靜而非動。以其不去。然則所造未嘗異，所見未嘗同。逆之所謂塞，順之所謂通。苟得其道，復何滯哉！傷夫！人情之惑也久矣，目對真而莫覺。既知往物而不來，而謂今物而可往。往物既不來，今物何所往？何則？求向物於向，於向未甞無；責向物於今，於今未甞有。於今未嘗有，以明物不來；於向未甞無，故知物不去。覆而求今，今亦不往。是謂昔物自在昔，不從今以至昔；今物自在今，不從昔以至今。故仲尼曰：「回也見新，交臂非故。」如此，則物不相往來，明矣。既無往返之微朕，有何物而可動乎？然則旋嵐偃嶽而常靜，江河兢注而不流，野馬飄鼓而不動，日月歷天而不周。復何怪哉！噫！聖人有言曰：「人命逝速，速於川流。」是以聲聞悟非常以成道，緣覺覺緣離以即真。苟萬動而非化，豈尋化以階道？覆尋聖言，微隱難測。若動而靜，似去而留。可以神會，難以事求。是以言去不必去，閑人之常想；稱住不必住，釋人之所謂往耳。豈曰去而可遣、住而可留也。故《成具》云：「菩薩處計常之中，而演非常之教。」《摩訶衍論》云：「諸法不動，無去來處。」斯皆導達群方，兩言一會，豈曰文殊而乖其致哉？是以言常而不住，稱去而不遷。不遷，故雖往而常靜；不住，故雖靜而常往。雖靜而常往，故往而弗遷；雖往而常靜，故靜而弗留矣。然則莊生之所以藏山，仲尼之所以臨川，斯皆感往者之難留，豈曰排今而可往？是以觀聖人心者，不同人之所見，得也。何者？人則謂少壯同體、百齡一質，徒知年往，不覺形隨。是以梵志出家，白首而歸。隣人見之曰：「昔人尚存乎？」梵志曰：「吾猶昔人，非昔人也。」隣人皆愕然，非其言也。所謂有力者負之而趨，昧者不覺。其斯之謂歟！是以如來因群情之所滯，則方言以辯惑，乘莫二之真心，吐不一之殊教，乖而不可異者，其唯聖言乎！故談真有不遷之稱，導俗有流動之說。雖復千途異唱，會歸同致矣。而徵文者聞不遷，則謂昔物不至今；聆流動者，而謂今物可至昔。既曰古今，而欲遷之者，何也？是以言往不必往，古今常存，以其不動；稱去不必去，謂不從今至古，以其不來。不來，故不馳騁於古今；不動，故各性住於一世。然則群籍殊文、百家異說，苟得其會，豈殊文之能惑哉？是以人之所謂住，我則言其去；人之所謂去，我則言其住。然則去住雖殊，其致一也。故經云：「正言似反。誰當信者？」斯言有由矣。何者？人則求古於今，謂其不住。吾則求今於古，知其不去。今若至古，古應有今；古若至今，今應有古。今而無古，以知不來；古而無今，以知不去。若古不至今，今亦不至古，事各性住於一世，有何物而可去來？然則四象風馳、璇璣電捲，得意毫微，雖速而不轉。是以如來，功流萬世而常存，道通百劫而彌固。成山假就於始簣，修途託至於初步，果以功業不可朽故也。功業不可朽，故雖在昔而不化，不化故不遷。不遷故，則湛然明矣。故經云：「三災彌綸而行業湛然。」信其言也。何者？果不俱因，因因而果。因因而果，因不昔滅；果不俱因，因不來今。不滅不來，則不遷之致明矣！復何惑於去留，踟蹰於動靜之間哉？然則乾坤倒覆，無謂不靜；洪流滔天，無謂其動。苟能契神於即物，斯不遠而可知矣！

The Daoxing jing says: "All dharmas originally have no place from which they come, and in going they have no place to which they arrive." The Madhyamaka says: "Observing the direction, one knows that one goes; but the goer does not arrive at the direction." These both seek rest in the very midst of motion, thereby knowing that things are immutable—this is clear! What ordinary people call motion is because past things do not arrive at the present; hence they say it is motion and not rest. What I call rest is also because past things do not arrive at the present; hence I say it is rest and not motion. Motion and not rest is because they do not come; rest and not motion is because they do not go. Thus, what they encounter has never differed, yet what they perceive has never been the same. Opposing it is what is called blockage; according with it is what is called penetration. If one truly attains its principle, what obstruction could there be? Alas! The delusion of human sentiment has lasted long; their eyes face the truth yet they do not realize it. Knowing that past things do not come, they yet say that present things can pass away. Since past things do not come, where could present things go? Why is this? If you seek yesterday's thing in yesterday, in yesterday it was never absent; if you demand yesterday's thing in the present, in the present it has never existed. Having never existed in the present shows that the thing does not come; having never been absent in yesterday shows that the thing does not go. Turning back to seek the present, the present also does not pass away. This means that past things naturally abide in the past, not arriving in the past from the present; present things naturally abide in the present, not arriving in the present from the past. Therefore Zhongni said: "Hui sees the new; as shoulders pass, the moment is no longer the old." In this way, that things do not mutually come and go is clear. Since there is not the slightest sign of going and returning, what thing could there be that moves? Thus, the whirlwind may topple mountains yet is constantly at rest; the great rivers rush onward yet do not flow; wild horses of dust drift and blow yet do not move; the sun and moon traverse the heavens yet do not revolve. What is there to wonder at? Ah! The sage has a saying: "Human life passes swiftly, swifter than a flowing stream." Therefore the śrāvaka awakens to impermanence to accomplish the path, and the pratyekabuddha realizes the separation of conditions to reach the real. If the myriad motions were not transformations, how could one trace transformations to ascend to the path? When one reinvestigates the sacred words, they are subtle, hidden, and hard to fathom. As if moving yet at rest, seeming to go yet remaining. They can be met by spirit, but are hard to seek through external matters. Therefore, speaking of going does not necessarily mean going—it is merely to block people's ordinary ideas; referring to abiding does not necessarily mean abiding—it is merely to explain what people call passing away. How could it mean that going can be dispatched, or that abiding can be retained? Hence the Chengju jing says: "The bodhisattva dwells in the midst of eternalism, yet expounds the teaching of impermanence." The Mahāyāna treatises say: "All dharmas are motionless, without any place of coming or going." These all guide and reach across all directions; the two statements converge in one. How could differing phrasing contradict their intent? Therefore, speaking of eternity yet not abiding; referring to going yet not mutating. Not mutating, hence though passing away, it is ever at rest; not abiding, hence though at rest, it ever passes away. Though at rest it ever passes away, therefore it passes away without mutating; though passing away it is ever at rest, therefore it rests without remaining. Thus, Zhuangzi's hiding of the boat in the ravine and Zhongni's standing by the stream were both lamenting the difficulty of retaining what has passed; how could they mean that one casts off the present so that it may go away? Therefore, one who contemplates the mind of the sage does not see as ordinary people see, and attains it. Why? People say that youth and vigor share one body, and a hundred years have a single substance; in vain they know that the years pass, unaware that the physical form follows them. For this reason, the brahmacārin left home, and returned with white hair. The neighbors saw him and said, "Is the man of the past still alive?" The brahmacārin said, "I am like the man of the past, yet I am not the man of the past." The neighbors were all astonished and rejected his words. As it is said, a strong man shoulders it and runs away, while the benighted do not notice. Does it not mean this? Therefore, relying on what the multitude clings to, the Tathāgata used provisional words to resolve doubts; mounting the non-dual true mind, he uttered the diverse teachings that are not one. What can appear divergent yet never differ—is it not solely the holy words? Hence, speaking of the real has the designation "immutability"; guiding the conventional has the doctrine of "flux". Though there are thousands of paths and different proclamations, they converge in the same import. Yet those who cling to the letter hear "immutability" and assume past things do not come to the present; listening to "flux", they assume present things can reach the past. Having already spoken of past and present, why wish to mutate them? Therefore, speaking of passing away does not necessarily mean passing away: past and present constantly abide, because they are motionless; referring to going does not necessarily mean going: it means not proceeding from the present to the past, because they do not come. Not coming, they do not gallop across past and present; motionless, their individual natures each abide in a single time. Thus, though texts vary in phrasing and the hundred schools differ in doctrine, if one grasps their convergence, how could differing words cause confusion? Therefore, what people call abiding, I call going; what people call going, I call abiding. Thus, though going and abiding differ, their import is one. Hence the scripture says: "True words seem paradoxical. Who will believe them?" These words have their reason! Why? People seek the past in the present, saying it does not abide. I seek the present in the past, knowing it does not go. If the present were to reach the past, the past should contain the present; if the past were to reach the present, the present should contain the past. That the present lacks the past shows that it does not come; that the past lacks the present shows that it does not go. If the past does not arrive at the present, and the present also does not arrive at the past, then things each naturally abide in a single time—what thing could there be that comes and goes? Thus, though the four seasons rush like the wind, and the armillary sphere turns like lightning, if one grasps the principle in the minutest detail, though swift, they do not revolve. Therefore, the Tathāgata's merits flow through myriad generations and are ever-present; his path penetrates a hundred kalpas and grows ever firmer. A mountain is built by relying on the first basket of earth, and a long journey is accomplished by relying on the initial step, because fruition and deeds cannot decay. Because fruition and deeds cannot decay, though in the past, they do not transform; not transforming, they do not mutate. Not mutating, their tranquil presence is clear. Hence the scripture says: "Though the three calamities envelop everything, deeds and karma remain tranquil." One should trust these words! Why? The fruit is not simultaneous with the cause; due to the cause, the fruit arises. Because it arises due to the cause, the cause did not perish in the past; because the fruit is not simultaneous with the cause, the cause does not come to the present. Not perishing and not coming, the principle of immutability is clear! Why still be deluded about going or staying, or hesitate between motion and rest? Thus, though heaven and earth were to overturn, do not say it is not at rest; though the great deluge reaches the heavens, do not say it is in motion. If one can unite one's spirit with the things themselves, it can be known without going far!