四明尊者教行錄 5.60

5.60

[Zhi]li reverently burns incense, washes the inkstone, and writes this letter to present to the Great Danapati, Director of the Palace Library. Zhili prostratingly reflects: Living in seclusion at the edge of the sea, remote and separated from the imperial court, I often contemplate the dignified bearing of Vimalakīrti, and repeatedly break through the expedient means of dhyāna. I respectfully reflect that the Great Danapati, Director of the Palace Library, early drew close to past Buddhas and has deeply realized non-arising. With your original vow perfuming your mind, you act as a great minister to protect the Dharma; thus you thoroughly comprehend both Confucianism and Buddhism, and attain both understanding and practice. Toward those who practice Chan and propagate the teachings, you give rise to thoughts of them as intimate friends and closest kin. In urgency for the Dharma and refinement in examining principle, in this present age you are truly unique! Yet Zhili's wisdom is not deeply realized, and my practice has not surpassed the ordinary. Having merely happened through a fellow monk to be mentioned unfavorably, I was at once granted an abundantly generous reception and specially favored with reviving kindness—recommended for a bestowed monastic robe, and honored for my lecturing vocation. Although this was not my original mind's desire, it indeed brought glory to the Great Teaching. Furthermore, from a mind of wondrous realization, you specially posed an unfathomable question, deeply wishing to elucidate the profound import and cause all to comprehend the Perfect school. Having received this stirring inquiry, how could I dare not reply? In truth, it was like trading gold for flour—it was utterly unlike an echo answering a sound; how could I have expected to receive your lengthy letter? Sent from afar to comfort this mountain heart, its purport and words are manifold, polishing and adorning beyond measure. Seeing your deep clarity regarding the true style of Shaoshi and looking up to your high embodiment of the esoteric import of Gṛdhrakūṭa, such transcendent awakening is truly matchless. Furthermore, moving your deep benevolence, you repeatedly bestow earnest exhortations that I fulfill the three-year repentance and temporarily preserve this body of the four great elements. In the Danapati's loving regard, you deem that it must be beneficial; yet according to this humble monk's reckoning, I know that success lies precisely in departing. This is truly because, examining the mind with the teaching and testing practice through conditions, although I cultivate the three contemplations, I have not yet destroyed the four Māras; although I exercise loving-kindness and compassion, views of attachment secretly arise. Without a boat to save the drowning, or claiming to be a physician while bearing disease—having no merit in saving and delivering, how could there be any benefit in curing? If one wishes to accomplish true transformation, one must speak of the pure realm. Therefore, relying on the Mahāyāna, I exclusively cultivate the wondrous repentance, relying on the pure realm of the bodhimaṇḍa and cutting off the miscellaneous conditions of worldly affairs—cleansing the mind with the five repentances, and perfuming the seeds with a single lecture, to aid the arising of the contemplation of non-arising, hoping to clarify the mind complete with virtues. Moreover, availing myself of the time before karmic consciousness declines, when the life of wisdom can certainly be spurred, I reverently fulfill my past vows and determinately choose rebirth [in the Pure Land]. For I reflect on the strong pulling force of present karmic retribution, and further fear being seized by ripening past calamities; thus I rely on ascetic practice, hoping to make it an auspicious condition. Using the power of my shallow understanding to guide the thoughts at the approach of death, extinguished without extinction, I cast off the body as if it were the final limit; born without birth, I penetrate to the original source and take the land. Aiming at this for forty years, I hope to fulfill it now; bearing bodies for hundreds of thousands of kalpas has, I reckon, all been cast away in vain. Hoping to fulfill the vow of an ordinary man, it is difficult to follow the words of a Mahāsattva. Although we miss meeting face to face in this life, in that land I will certainly attend your presence; I exclusively hope for the power of external protection to fulfill the aspiration of my original mind. Further reflecting on the vehicle of teachings I have practiced, I look up and rely on the shade of your grace to ensure that vehicle after vehicle will not be severed and that it will be heard everywhere. On this alone do I rely, looking up in hope of your consent. Zhili's characters do not form proper writing and my words do not form literature; hoping to express an ounce of sincerity, I could not allow another hand to write this. By this I recount my gratitude, hardly one or two in ten thousand. I prostratingly hope your compassionate regard will briefly deign to consider it. Respectfully submitted.