宗鏡錄 33.7.1

33.7.1

答。 但當見性。 自斷狐疑。 余曾推窮。 似信斯理。 不遷論云。 旋風偃嶽而常靜。 江河競注而不流。 野馬漂鼓而不動。 日月歷天而不周。 疏云。 前風非後風。 故偃嶽而常靜。 前水非後水。 故競注而不流。 前氣非後氣。 故漂鼓而不動。 前日非後日。 故歷天而不周。 鈔云。 然自體念念不同。 則初一念起時。 非第二念時。 乃至最後吹著山時。 非初起時。 則無前念風體。 定從彼來吹其山也。 且山從初動時。 以至倒臥地時。 其山自體。 念念不同。 則初一念動時。 非第二念動時。 乃至最後著地時。 非初動時。 則無初動山體。 定從彼來至著地時。 斯皆風不至。 山嶽不著地。 雖旋嵐偃嶽未曾動也。 以此四物。 世為遷動。 然雖則倒嶽歷天。 皆不相知相到。 念念自住。 各各不遷。 且如世間稱大。 莫過四大。 四大中動。 莫越風輪。 以性推之。 本實不動。 如義海云。 鑒動寂者。 為塵隨風。 飄颺是動。 寂然不起是靜。 而今靜時。 由動不滅。 即全以動成靜也。 今動時由靜不滅。 即全以靜成動也。 由全體相成。 是故動時正靜。 靜時正動。 亦如風本不動。 能動諸物。 若先有動。 則失自體。 不復更動。 今觀此風。 周遍法界。 湛然不動。 寂爾無形。 推此動由。 皆從緣起。 且如密室之中。 若云有風。 風何不動。 若云無風。 遇緣即起。 或遍法界拂。 則滿法界生。 故知風大不動。 動屬諸緣。 若於外十方虛空中。 設不因人拂。 或自起時。 亦是龍蜃鬼神所作。 以鬼神屬陰。 至晚則風多故。 乃至劫初劫末成壞之風。 並因眾生業感。 世間無有一法不從緣生。 緣會則生。 緣散則滅。 若執自然生者。 只合常生。 何得緊縵不定。 動靜無恒故知悉從緣起。 又推諸緣和合成事。 各各不有。 和合亦無。 緣緣之中。 俱無自性。 但是心動。 反推自心。 心亦不動。 以心無形。 故起處不可得。 即知皆從真性起。 真性即不起。 方見心性遍四大性。 體合真空。 性無動靜。 以因相彰動。 因動對靜。 動相既無。 靜塵亦滅。 故首楞嚴經云。 性風真空。 性空真風。 又不遷之宗。 豈離動搖之境。 無生之旨。 匪越生滅之門。 故金剛三昧經云。 因緣所生義。 是義滅非生。 滅諸生滅義。 是義生非滅。 是以起恒不起。 不起恒起。 如此通達不落斷常。 可正解一心不遷之義矣。 如先德云。 夫物性無差。 悟即真理。 真即不變。 物自湛然。 常情所封。 於不動中妄以為動。 道體淵默。 語路玄微。 日用而不知者。 物不遷也。 事像可觀。 稱之為物。 物體各住。 故號不遷。 不遷故。 隨流湛然清淨。 為物故。 與四像而所相依。 故知無生不生。 無形不形。 處性相而守一者。 其為不遷論焉。 所以不遷論云。 是以如來。 因群情之所滯。 即方言以辯惑。 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。 而欲遷之者何耶。 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。 百家異說者。 苟得其會。 豈文言能惑之哉。 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。

Answer: One need only see one's nature, and fox-like doubts will cut off of themselves. I once probed and investigated [this], and came to trust this principle. The *Treatise on Immutability* (*Buqian lun*) says: "Whirlwinds flatten mountains, yet are ever still; rivers race and surge, yet do not flow; shimmering mirages flutter and toss, yet do not move; the sun and moon traverse the sky, yet do not revolve." A commentary says: "The earlier wind is not the later wind; therefore, flattening mountains, it is ever still. The earlier water is not the later water; therefore, racing and surging, it does not flow. The earlier vapor is not the later vapor; therefore, fluttering and tossing, it does not move. The earlier sun is not the later sun; therefore, traversing the sky, it does not revolve." A subcommentary says: "Yet their substances differ from thought-moment to thought-moment. Thus, when the first single thought-moment arises, it is not the time of the second thought-moment; up to when it finally blows against a mountain, that is not the time of its initial arising. Thus, there is no substance of the wind from the preceding thought-moment that definitively comes from there to blow upon that mountain. Furthermore, from the mountain's first moment of shaking until it falls flat upon the ground, that mountain's substance differs from thought-moment to thought-moment. Thus, when it shakes at the first single thought-moment, it is not the time when it shakes at the second thought-moment; up to when it finally hits the ground, that is not the time of its initial shaking. Thus, there is no substance of the mountain from its initial shaking that definitively comes from there to reach the time when it hits the ground. All these mean that the wind does not arrive, and the mountain does not hit the ground. Although the tempest flattens the mountain, it has never moved." These four things are taken by the worldly to change and move. Yet, although mountains fall and the [heavens] traverse the sky, none of them knows or reaches the others. Moment to moment each abides in itself; each does not mutate. Furthermore, among what the world calls great, nothing exceeds the four great elements; and among movement within the four great elements, nothing surpasses the wind-wheel. If investigated through their nature, they are fundamentally and truly motionless. As the *Ocean of Meaning* (*Yihai*) says: "Examining movement and quietude: dust follows the wind; fluttering and soaring is movement, while quiescently not arising is quietude. But now, at the time of quietude, because movement is not annihilated, quietude is entirely accomplished by movement. Now, at the time of movement, because quietude is not annihilated, movement is entirely accomplished by quietude. Because the entire substances mutually accomplish each other, therefore at the very time of movement it is quiet, and at the very time of quietude it is moving. It is also like the wind: fundamentally motionless, yet able to move all things. If there were movement beforehand, it would lose its own substance and could not move further. Now observing this wind, it pervades the dharmadhātu, clear and unmoving, tranquil and formless. Investigating the reason for this movement, it all arises from conditions. For example, in a sealed room, if one says there is wind, why does the wind not move? If one says there is no wind, when it meets conditions it immediately arises. If one waves a fan across the dharmadhātu, it will arise to fill the dharmadhātu. Hence we know that the wind element does not move; movement belongs to conditions. If outside in the open space of the ten directions, even without being waved by a person, it arises on its own, this is also caused by dragons, giant clams, ghosts, and spirits. Because ghosts and spirits belong to yin, winds are more frequent toward evening. Furthermore, the winds of formation and destruction at the beginning and end of a kalpa are all stimulated by the karma of sentient beings. In the world, not a single phenomenon does not arise from conditions. When conditions gather, it arises; when conditions disperse, it perishes. If one grasps that things arise naturally of themselves, they should only ever arise continuously; how could they be fluctuating and erratic, with movement and quietude having no constancy? Therefore we know all arise from conditions. Furthermore, investigating the various conditions harmonising to accomplish a thing: individually they do not exist, and in harmony they do not exist either. In condition after condition, none possesses an intrinsic nature; it is merely the mind moving. Turning back to investigate one's own mind, the mind also does not move. Because the mind is formless, the place from which it arises cannot be found. Thus one knows all arise from the true nature, and the true nature does not arise. Only then does one see that the mind-nature pervades the nature of the four great elements; its substance accords with true emptiness, and its nature has neither movement nor quietude. Because movement is manifested through characteristics, and quietude is contrasted with movement: once the characteristic of movement is absent, the defilement of quietude is also extinguished. Therefore the *Śūraṅgamasūtra* says: 'The nature of wind is true emptiness; the nature of emptiness is true wind.' Furthermore, how could the principle of immutability be separate from the realm of shaking and movement? How could the purport of non-arising go beyond the gate of arising and perishing? Therefore the *Vajrasamādhisūtra* says: 'The meaning of what arises from causes and conditions is that this meaning is cessation, not arising. To extinguish all meanings of arising and perishing is that this meaning is arising, not cessation.' For this reason, arising is constantly non-arising, and non-arising is constantly arising. If one penetrates it in this way, one will not fall into annihilationism or eternalism, and one can correctly understand the meaning of the immutability of the one mind. As a former master of virtue said: 'The nature of things has no difference; when awakened to, it is true principle. Truth is immutable, and things are inherently clear and still. Confined by conventional sentiments, people falsely assume movement within the unmoving. The substance of the Way is deep and silent; the path of words is profound and subtle. That which is used daily without being known is that things do not mutate. Phenomena and images can be observed, so they are called "things." The substance of things each abides [in its own state], hence it is named "immutable." Because it is immutable, following the current it is clear and pure; because it is a thing, it mutually relies upon the four characteristics. Hence we know that non-arising does not fail to arise, and formlessness does not fail to take form. That which dwells in nature and characteristics while maintaining oneness is the *Treatise on Immutability*.' Therefore the *Treatise on Immutability* says: 'Therefore the Tathāgata, in accordance with what the masses cling to, adopted regional expressions to resolve their confusion. Resting upon the non-dual true mind, he voiced distinct teachings that were not one. Contradictory yet impossible to differentiate—could that be anything other than the holy words? Therefore, speaking of truth, there is the term "immutability"; guiding the worldly, there is the discourse of "flowing and moving." Although there are a thousand paths and varied chants, their convergence leads to the same destination. But those who cling to the literal text, upon hearing "immutability," assert that things of the past do not reach the present; and those who listen to "flowing and moving" assert that things of the present can reach the past. Since they speak of past and present, why should they wish to mutate them? Therefore, when we speak of "passing away," there is not necessarily a passing away; past and present ever abide because they do not move. When we say "departing," there is not necessarily a departing; we mean it does not go from the present to the past, because it does not come. Because it does not come, it does not gallop between past and present; because it does not move, each nature abides in a single age. That being so, although various texts have distinct phrasing and the hundred schools have divergent accounts, if one grasps their convergence, how could literal words confuse one? Therefore, what people call "abiding," I say has "departed"; what people call "departing," I say "abides." Thus, although departing and abiding differ, their purport is one. Hence the scripture says: "Right words seem contradictory; who will believe them?" There is good reason for these words. Why? People seek the past in the present and claim it does not abide; I seek the present in the past and know it does not depart. If the present reached the past, in the past there should be the present; if the past reached the present, in the present there should be the past. In the present there is no past.'