宗鏡錄 42.5.2

42.5.2

When [the body] is about to easily rupture and decay, the setting sun sinks in the west, and the withered flowers are about to fall. Like the dregs of pressed sugarcane, it lacks the threefold flavor of monastic meditation and recitation. One's vigor and strength are utterly robbed by the thief of old age; one's robust countenance is seized and about to be handed over to the King of Death. It is like a lotus crushed by hail, or like a cart rendered useless with a broken axle. Like a dried-up river lacking water, it brings no benefit to others; like an expiring lamp-wick with no oil, how could its state last long? As for the suffering of illness: because the four great elements alter and conflict, there is suffering. The hundred joints ache, the four limbs are afflicted with agony, and all peaceful and happy matters can be destroyed. Thus a sūtra states: 'Just as a man who is vigorous and handsome, secretly loved by the king's consort, sends a message to have an illicit liaison, whereupon the king catches him, gouges out his eyes, cuts off his ears and nose, and amputates his hands and feet, so that his appearance suddenly transforms and he is despised and reviled by others—pressed by the suffering of illness, it is hard to bear in this way, and being despised by others is also just like this.' It is the root of anguish, sorrow, and worry, and serves as the cause of fear of death. Like hail ruining sprouts, or like being cornered by an enemy, it plunders correct livelihood, destroys one's robust complexion, diminishes the power of merit to cause one to retrogress from great bodhi, and increases heedlessness so that one loses the root of true goodness. This is called the suffering of illness. As for the suffering of death: because the life-span alters and is destroyed, there is suffering. Wind-knives sever the limbs and joints; nowhere is without agonizing pain. One's mouth opens with gasping sighs, hands and feet flail in confusion, one's eyes roll back and foam spills, and hands grope at empty space. Sweat flows profusely, and feces and urine leak out. Though in the past it was treated with bathing, it inevitably returns to impurity; though in the past it was treated with ointments and incense, it inevitably returns to foul stench. One's former royal throne, abundant treasures and glory, and tens of thousands of relatives, wives, and concubines are all abandoned in an instant. One departs alone to future existences, with not a single one accompanying. One lies prostrate on the bed and pillow, a corpse stretched out face-up. Parents, wife, and children beat their chests and choke with sobs; the multitude wails in longing, disheveling their hair and beating their heads. Though they produce the sorrow of loving attachment, it ultimately results in the pain of eternal parting. Some are buried in graves and mounds, where their flesh dissolves and bones rot; some have their exposed corpses given over to donate bodily flesh, crisscrossed and torn apart by birds, beasts, mole crickets, and ants; or [the corpse] is incinerated by fire, where foul smoke billows up and fills all four quarters. Others grieve and sigh; weeping bitterly until their voices fail, they all return to their hometowns, while only ashes and filth remain, left solely to the wind and earth. One's lifelong spirit and drive once towered above the clouds at every turn; yet once one bids farewell forever, one is stranded beneath the frost and moon. Hence we know that where one's allotted lifespan ends, at the verge of death, it is like being dispersed by the kalpa-winds or swept away by a torrential cataract: nowhere can halt one's departure, and upon arrival one cannot escape. Toward a deep and distant destination, frightening realms perpetually terrify; amid gloomy darkness, the solitary soul departs alone. Resentful enemies constantly pursue without one ever being aware; pursued by the King of Death, no one can be spared. The Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra states: 'Death means that in a perilous and difficult place, one has no provisions; where one goes is suspended far away, yet there are no companions. Constantly travelling day and night, one knows no boundary. Profound, deep, and darkly obscure, there is no lamp-light. One enters without doors, yet there is a location. Although there is no specific aching spot, it cannot be cured. In going there is no halting; upon arrival one cannot escape. Nothing is broken or destroyed, yet those who see it are filled with sorrow and bitterness. It is not an ugly form, yet it makes people terrified. Laid out beside the body, it cannot be perceived.' An exposition states: ''In a perilous and difficult place' means the world of fright and fear of the twenty-five realms of existence. 'One has no provisions' means having no good dharmas with which to sustain oneself. 'Where one goes is suspended far away' means birth-and-death is inexhaustible. 'Yet there are no companions' means the soul departs by itself. 'Constantly travelling day and night, one knows no boundary' means drifting along in accordance with karma, cycling without limit. 'Profound, deep, and darkly obscure, there is no lamp-light': death is the final characteristic; once entering the division of death, it is a torpor from which it is difficult to emerge, the long night of birth-and-death, hence called 'profound and deep.' Having died, one mostly enters the great dark places of the three bad destinies, hence it is said 'there is no lamp-light.' 'One enters without doors, yet there is a location': death enters inside the body without relying on doors; right upon the body one distinguishes death, which is termed 'having a location.' 'Although there is no specific aching spot': at the verge of death, although one has the five sense faculties, there is no sensory awareness. 'It cannot be cured': when retribution ends, one inevitably dies; worldly physicians fold their hands. 'In going there is no halting; upon arrival one cannot escape': karma is exhausted and retribution concludes; when the time arrives, one inevitably departs; pursued by one's own karma, there is no one who binds one. 'Nothing is broken or destroyed, yet those who see it are filled with sorrow and bitterness': although the retribution form is extinguished, the skin and body are not damaged, yet among those who see it with aching grief, none is not filled with sorrow and bitterness. 'It is not an ugly form, yet it makes people terrified': there is no frightening human appearance, yet those who see it are panicked and afraid. 'Laid out beside the body, it cannot be perceived': this clarifies that a person's death lies at the body's uttermost limit, yet one cannot know the time and season of death.' Furthermore, all consciousnesses are dim and murky, the six viscera are empty, the remaining breath lingers faintly, and the mind and soul are anxious and sad. A verse in the Sūtra on Impermanence states: / 'When the breath of the life-faculty is about to end, / The limbs and joints all separate. / All sufferings accompany death; / At this moment, one laments and regrets in vain. / Both eyes roll upward together; / The knife of death falls according to karma. / Thoughts and perceptions are entirely flustered and alarmed; / No one is able to rescue and deliver.' / Therefore, past worthies stated: 'Human life is impermanent: once a breath is not followed by another, one departs for a thousand years. The dark road stretches far and vast, without any provisions; the sea of suffering is profoundly deep, where can a boat or raft be relied upon? Admonished and abandoned by sages and worthies, there is nothing to depend upon. As one's years gradually slip away, the wind-knives brook no delay. How could one remain at ease, sitting and awaiting aching pain? For instance, when a jackal lost its ears, tail, and teeth, it feigned sleep hoping to escape, but upon suddenly hearing its head would be cut off, its mind was exceedingly terrified. When encountering birth, old age, and sickness, it is still not urgent; but the matter of death brooks no delay—how could one not be terrified? When the terrified mind arises, it is like treading on boiling water and fire: for the six sense-dusts and five desires, one has no leisure to covet or be stained by them. It is like the younger brother of King Aśoka, a great imperial king, who heard a caṇḍāla ringing a bell morning after morning: one day had passed, and in six days he was to die; though he had the five desires, not for a single thought-moment did he enjoy them. A practitioner's fearful and thoroughly contrite repentance spares neither body nor life, like the jackal's desperate resolve, with nothing else to contemplate, like that terrified king. From this we know that [this] is the cause of myriad calamities, the root of all sufferings.