國清百錄 1.146

1.146

吾少嬰勤苦備歷艱關，遊學荊揚雍豫，唯著一納三十餘年，冬夏不釋體。上至天子、下至士民，雖有所施，受而不私。一果一樓，入眾已後尚不希念，況故侵之。所以然者，眾寶尊重，若能增益名甘露苑，若有減損即蒺䔧園。自飽自傷，因倒因起，可以意得，何俟多言。夫人發心隨有所作，為讀誦聽學講說經行懺悔供養捨力，未有首尾慎莫中止，中止者違本心。若再有所作，至前止處留難，即起修業不成，今生現障後彌障道，此行人大忌。應須竭力善始令終，業既坦然報亦圓滿，此亦可意得。昔有一寺師徒數百，晝夜禪講時不虛棄。有淨人竊聽說法，聞已用心，每揚簸洮汰繫念存習，謂以淨心揚簸不善，以禪淨水洮汰不淨。隨有所作念念用心，一時執爨觀火燒薪，念念就盡，無常遷逝復速於是，蹲踞竈前寂然入定，火滅湯冷。維那懼廢眾粥，以白上座。上座云此是勝事，眾宜忍之。慎勿驚觸，聽其自起。數日方覺，往上座所具陳所證，敘法轉深。上座止曰：「爾向所言皆我境界。而今所說非我所知，勿復言也。」因而顧問：「頗知宿命不？」答云：「薄知。」又問：「何罪為賤？何福易悟？」答云：「此賤身者，前世之時乃是今日徒眾老者之師，亦是少者之祖師。徒眾所學皆昔所訓。爾時多有私客，恒制約不敢侵眾。忽有急客，輒取少菜忘不陪備。由此譴責，今為眾奴。前習未久，薄修易悟宿命罪福，其事如是。」一眾聞此悲不能勝，鑑鏡若斯豈可不慎。同學照禪師，於南嶽眾中苦行禪定最為第一，輒用眾一撮鹽作齋飲。所侵無幾不以為事，後行方等忽見相起，計三年增長至數十斛，急令陪備，仍賣衣資買鹽償眾。此事非久亦非傳聞，宜以為規，莫令後悔。吾雖寡德行，遠近頗相追尋，而隔剡嶺難為徒步，老病出入多以眾驢迎送。此是吾客私計功醻直，令彼此無咎。吾是眾主驢亦我得，既捨入眾非復我有，我不合用。非我何言。舉此一條，餘事皆爾。

In my youth I suffered hardships and endured every difficulty, traveling to study throughout Jing, Yang, Yong, and Yu. I wore only a single patched robe for more than thirty years, never taking it off my body in winter or summer. From the Son of Heaven above down to scholars and commoners below, though offerings were given, I received them without private possession. Even a single fruit or a single [plantain] leaf, once entered into the community, was no longer coveted in my mind, let alone deliberately encroached upon. Why is this? The community's property is profoundly venerable: if one can increase it, it is called a grove of ambrosia; if one diminishes it, it is a garden of caltrops. One sates oneself and harms oneself, falls because of [something] and rises because of it—this can be grasped through reflection; what need is there to say more? Whenever a person arouses the aspiration [for awakening] and engages in any practice—whether reciting, listening and studying, preaching and explaining, walking meditation, kṣamā, making offerings, or dedicating labor—before there is a proper beginning and end, be exceedingly careful not to stop halfway. Stopping halfway goes against one's original intention. If one undertakes it again, when reaching the former stopping point difficulties will arise, one's cultivation will fail, and in this life it will manifest as an obstacle, while later it will increasingly obstruct the path: this is a great taboo for practitioners. One must exhaust one's strength, making a good beginning and achieving a fine conclusion; once the karma is settled and tranquil, the retribution will also be fulfilled—this too can be grasped through reflection. Formerly, there was a monastery with several hundred masters and disciples; day and night they practiced dhyāna and lectures, not wasting any time in vain. There was a monastery servant who secretly listened to the Dharma teachings. Having heard them, he applied his mind, and whenever winnowing grain or washing rice, he concentrated his thoughts and maintained the practice, thinking of using a pure mind to winnow away unwholesomeness, and using the pure water of dhyāna to wash away impurities. In whatever he did, he applied his mind thought after thought. Once, while tending the hearth, he watched the fire burning firewood, expiring thought after thought, and realizing that impermanent passing away is even swifter than this, he squatted before the stove and entered samādhi in stillness. The fire went out and the hot water grew cold. The karmadāna, fearing that the community's porridge would be ruined, reported this to the sthavira. The sthavira said, 'This is an extraordinary event; the assembly should bear with it. Be careful not to disturb or startle him; let him arise on his own.' After several days he finally awoke, went to the sthavira's place, and fully stated what he had realized, expounding the Dharma with ever greater depth. The sthavira stopped him, saying, 'What you said before was all within my realm. But what you are speaking of now is beyond my knowing; say no more.' He then asked him, 'Do you happen to know past lives?' The servant replied, 'A little.' He asked again, 'What sin made you lowly? What merit made it easy for you to awaken?' The servant replied, 'This lowly body, in a past life, was the master of today's elderly members of the assembly, and the ancestral master of the younger ones. What the assembly studies is what I instructed in the past. At that time, I often had private guests, but I was always restrained and did not dare encroach upon the community's [goods]. Suddenly, urgent guests arrived, and I casually took a few vegetables and forgot to reimburse them. Due to this fault, I am now a servant to the assembly. Because my former practice was not long ago, with slight cultivation it was easy to awaken to the sins and merits of past lives. Such was the matter.' When the assembly heard this, they were overwhelmed with grief. When the mirror of warning is like this, how can one not be cautious? My fellow student, Dhyāna Master Zhao, was foremost among the assembly on the Southern Peak in ascetic practices and dhyāna meditation; once he casually took a pinch of the community's salt to prepare a vegetarian drink. The encroachment was negligible and he did not consider it serious, but later, while practicing the Fangdeng [kṣamā], signs suddenly arose: he calculated that over three years it had increased to several tens of bushels. He was urged to make urgent restitution, and thereupon sold his robes and requisites to buy salt and repay the community. This matter happened not long ago and is not hearsay; it should be taken as a standard, so that you do not have regrets later. Although I lack virtue and practice, people from far and near come to seek me out, yet because the Shan mountain passes are difficult to traverse on foot, in my old age and illness I have mostly used the community's donkeys when leaving and entering. These were my private guests, who calculated the service and paid the price, so that neither side incurred any fault. I am the leader of the assembly, and the donkeys were acquired by me, but once renounced and entered into the community, they are no longer my possession, and I have no right to use them. If they are not mine, what can be said? I have cited this one matter, and all other affairs are likewise.