宗鏡錄 33.7.4

33.7.4

and takes movement to be the environment, one conducts affairs in an inverted manner, and the nature of one's mind loses truth. The environment actually does not move; it is only the mind that falsely moves. This may be called 'the clouds rush and the moon appears to travel; the boat moves and the shore appears to shift.' Therefore the treatise says: 'Therefore, to speak of the past does not necessarily mean passing away; past and present ever abide because they do not move. To refer to going does not necessarily mean departing; it means not proceeding from the present to the past, because it does not come. Because it does not come, it does not race between past and present; because it does not move, each nature abides in a single age.' This means that each and every phenomenon abides in its position of tathatā: not a single thing comes or goes, nor has it ever stayed for a single thought-moment; none depend on one another. How is this not non-movement? If one can penetrate thus, one's own eye will be completely clear; how could illusory dust that merely seems to exist or divergent doctrines of a single era mislead me? Furthermore, an ancient commentary says: 'The divergent doctrines of the hundred schools—how could words and phrases mislead?' This clarifies being unconfused regarding the three teachings, each of which establishes its own source. Confucianism has twenty-seven schools; if one accords with the principle of the five constants, one will be unconfused. Huang-Lao has twenty-five schools; if one accords with emptiness and non-being, one will also be unconfused. The Buddha has the twelve divisions of teaching; if one realizes the fundamental mind, one will also be unconfused. However, though the three teachings differ, if subsumed under the dharmadhātu, they have no separate source. As for the two teachings of Confucius and Laozi and the hundred philosophers and nine currents of thought, spoken of generally, they do not depart from the dharmadhātu, just like the hundred rivers returning to the great sea. As for the Buddha's complete school and the wondrous purport of the ekayāna, spoken of specifically, the hundred schools are like firefly light—how could they equal the great illumination?—just as the great sea does not return to the hundred rivers. 'This being so, though the four images race like the wind and the revolving mechanism turns like lightning, if one grasps the meaning of the infinitesimal, though swift, there is no turning.' 'The four images' are the four seasons. 'The revolving mechanism' is the seven stars of the Northern Dipper. Though cold comes and heat goes, the dipper turns and stars shift, lightning flashes and winds gallop, not abiding for a kṣaṇa; if one grasps the meaning and understands the infinitesimal, secret purport of the one mind, one sees the nature and is unmoving. As for 'the fruit does not coexist with the cause; due to the cause, there is the fruit': for example, in making a high mountain, initially overturning one basket of earth serves as the cause, until piling earth completes the mountain. This initial single basket of earth, though it has not yet formed the mountain and the beginning does not arrive at the end, is also not annihilated; and ultimately, because of this single basket of earth, the mountain is completed. Therefore it is said: 'The fruit does not coexist with the cause; due to the cause, there is the fruit. Due to the cause, there is the fruit: the cause is not destroyed in the past. The fruit does not coexist with the cause: the cause does not come into the present. Not destroyed and not coming, the principle of non-movement is thereby clear.' Furthermore, just as a journey of a thousand li begins with the first step, though one does not arrive immediately and the fruit does not coexist with the cause, yet entirely due to the merit of the first step one is able to reach the road of a thousand li; thus, due to the cause, there is the fruit. Therefore it is said: 'Completing a mountain relies on its inception from the initial basket; undertaking a long journey is entrusted to arriving at the first step.' Furthermore, just as the cause of initially giving rise to a single wholesome thought of bodhicitta ultimately accomplishes the fruit of unexcelled wondrous awakening, that initial single thought is not lost; if the initial single thought had already ceased, one would not be able to accomplish the fruit of Buddhahood. Therefore it is said: 'Therefore, the Tathāgata's merit flows down ten thousand generations and ever persists; the Way penetrates a hundred kalpas and becomes all the firmer.' Because it neither ceases nor comes, accomplishments are achieved and karma is completed; causes are not vainly abandoned, and actions are not in vain. Thus we know that the ten thousand phenomena are entirely unmoving. How could one hesitate any further between movement and stillness? If one can clarify the source when contacting circumstances and accord in spirit directly with things, then even if heaven overturns and earth inverts, or the seas boil and mountains collapse, one still does not see the omens of movement and stillness, how much less so for the rest of illusory transformations, shadows, and echoes?