虛堂和尚語錄 4.13

4.13

The ancestral master Bodhidharma came from the Western Heaven across a hundred thousand li of waters and clouds to this land. First confronting the sovereign of Liang, he struck the sounds of the great yellow bell; yet though the imperial hearing was impartial, the musical phrasing missed the mark. Thereupon he severed the river on a reed and sat facing the wall at Shaolin, directly sitting until cutting off [all things], standing wall-like at ten thousand fathoms. As months and years went by, his fragrant wind blew in all four directions. There was one who, bound by names and forms, skillfully sought how it was: facing that place where he stood wall-like at ten thousand fathoms, he grasped the essential intent, bowed three times, and stood according to his place; whereupon [the master] said, 'You have obtained my marrow.' From this point onward, the lineages split and branches diverged, transmitting and upholding that single move of standing wall-like at ten thousand fathoms, arranged like chess pieces across the empire, luminous as the sun and stars. Without great strength, great faculties, and great conditions, this is ultimately difficult to enter upon. Last year, the autumn heat burned like fire; your excellency came from afar wearing a lone hat, arriving directly at my thatched hut, where I was blessed with an encounter with your refined manner. In the course of your speech, I already knew you were a person within the Buddha Dharma. Contemporary literati anxiously chase after noble ranks and high salaries; how could they have spare moments to attend to this? Unless one had personally received the prediction on Gṛdhrakūṭa rooted in one's very nature, who could accomplish such a thing? Now, having been bathed once more by your polished letter laying bare your innermost feelings—showing self-reproach and remorse, and earnestness toward the Way—this can truly be known. You mentioned that your past karma is deep and heavy, and your body has fallen into worldly toil. Yet if, before a single thought arises, you illuminate and shatter the cycle of birth and death, without falling into the emotional calculations of sacred and profane, you will be an arhat who has stepped beyond the dust. What doors and windows could peer into you? What textual patterns could measure you? What birth and death could be feared? What Buddha-way could be inquired into? The iron sphere is a pure, compassionate gate, lacking not the slightest hair's breadth. Thus the ancients bequeathed half a sentence or a single word as good medicine for the world, wishing to cure sentient beings of the disease of daily turmoil and clinging to being or non-being. Little do people know that they in turn take the grasping disease to be medicine—truly lamentable! As for that which you teach, think, and do, appearing as if there were two people—these all arise from the tethered thoughts of floating dust. If you can trace what is thought to its depths, there will then be three people; three people are one person, one person is three people, and up to hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis of people are just one person, while one person is just hundreds of thousands of myriads of koṭis of people. Sweep this one person away into Silla and Daṇḍa! Then gently turn back and say: 'Ha! Who are you?' Arriving here, it is just like Sudhana entering Maitreya's pavilion: the most wonderful realms are all present before one's eyes. I fear only that deep faith may not reach it, thereby only increasing confusion and distress. Just take responsibility where there is no place to lay a hand, and find enjoyment where there is nothing to attain; this is the first-rate, direct, and simple Dharma gate. Although you know the sickness, being unable to remove it is to create your own obstruction. Please look toward that place that stands wall-like at ten thousand fathoms, and naturally there will be nothing you think of that will not yield.