宗鏡錄 42.5.3

42.5.3

All are produced from the fabrications of a single thought. One must secretly guard the sense-doors and constantly protect the ground of the mind, never letting delusion arise or momentarily pursue external dusts. As the *Sūtra of the Buddha's Brief Admonition at His Final Parinirvāṇa* states: "For these five senses, the citta is their master. For this reason, you should control the citta well. The terror of the citta is worse than poisonous snakes, savage beasts, resentful thieves, or raging fires bursting their bounds; none of these serve as adequate analogies. It stirs and shifts with restless haste; it sees only the honey and fails to notice the deep pit. It is like a mad elephant without an iron hook, or a monkey having found a tree—leaping and bounding about, scarcely to be curbed. You must urgently subdue it and not allow it to be licentious. Giving free rein to this citta destroys a person's good deeds; curbing it in one place, there is nothing that cannot be accomplished. Therefore, monks, you should be diligently vigorous and subdue your citta." Hence we know that saṃsāra is difficult to escape; one must be watchful and prudent. Consider, for example, the sages of the two vehicles and the sovereign bodhisattvas: both have transcended the three realms, yet they still possess transformational bodies and the four kinds of saṃsāra. How much more so within the three realms, with actively manifesting kleśas, does the ordinary person bound by karma undergo fragmented death! As for the four kinds of saṃsāra, they refer to all arhats, pratyekabuddhas, and bodhisattvas on the great grounds, who due to four kinds of hindrances fail to obtain the four virtues of the Tathāgata: first, the saṃsāra of expedient means; second, the saṃsāra of causes and conditions; third, the saṃsāra of having existence; and fourth, the saṃsāra of non-existence. The *Anuttarāśrayasūtra* states: "The Buddha told Ānanda: 'Within the three realms there are four kinds of difficulties: first, the difficulty of kleśa; second, the difficulty of karma; third, the difficulty of retribution in rebirth; and fourth, the difficulty of faults. The saṃsāra of expedient means arising from the ground of avidyā is like the difficulty of kleśa within the three realms. The saṃsāra of causes and conditions arising from the ground of avidyā is like the difficulty of karma within the three realms. The saṃsāra of having existence arising from the ground of avidyā is like the difficulty of retribution in rebirth within the three realms. The saṃsāra of non-existence arising from the ground of avidyā is like the difficulty of faults within the three realms. It should be known thus. Ānanda, because the four kinds of saṃsāra are not yet eradicated, the three kinds of mind-made bodies do not possess the pāramitā fruits of permanence, bliss, self, and purity. Only the Buddha's dharmakāya is the pāramitā of permanence, bliss, self, and purity. You all should know this.'" As for the suffering of separation from what is loved, the *Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra* states: "From love arises sorrow; from love arises fear. If one is free from love, what sorrow or fear is there?" The *Lotus Sūtra* states: "That which is the cause of all sufferings has lustful craving as its root." The *Vimalakīrtinirdeśasūtra* states: "From moha arises love, and then my sickness is born." As for the suffering of meeting with what is hateful, the *Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra* states: "Contemplating all receipts of birth in the five destinies, all are meetings with what is hateful, coalescing into great suffering. If one has not yet realized the unproduced, in every place where one is born, there is nothing that is not hateful, nothing that is not suffering. Why is this? Because one is bound by objects and does not attain sovereignty." As for the suffering of not getting what one seeks, there are two kinds: first, seeking in a desired object and being unable to obtain it; second, laboring with much effort without obtaining the retribution of results. As for the suffering of the burning of the five skandhas, it consists of: the suffering of birth, the suffering of old age, the suffering of sickness, the suffering of death, the suffering of separation from what is loved, the suffering of meeting with what is hateful, and the suffering of not getting what one seeks. Hence it is named the suffering of the burning of the five skandhas. Because one grasps the skandhas as real, one is enclosed by the skandhas, which then become the skandha-māras, the gathering of all sufferings. As for the five turbidities: first, the turbidity of the kalpa. The other four turbidities intensify and gather at this time: dveṣa intensifies and weapons of war arise; rāga intensifies and famine arises; moha intensifies and pestilence arises. Because the three calamities arise, kleśas double in abundance, views become ever more ablaze, physical and mental states become coarse and wretched, evil names and foul designations multiply, and human lifespan is crushed and shortened. The various turbidities converge together like rushing, murky water; winds and waves roar in rage; fish and dragons stir up chaos; there is nothing to rely upon. It is the time that causes this to be so. It is like the Ābhāsvara devas falling to earth at the beginning of the kalpa, where the earth caused desire to arise; or like the Trāyastriṃśa devas entering the Parūṣakavana, where the garden gave rise to combative minds. This is named the characteristic of the turbidity of the kalpa. As for the turbidity of kleśas: the ocean of rāga admits every stream yet is never sated; the viper of dveṣa inhales poison and burns the worldly realms; the darkness of moha is stupid and obstinate, surpassing black lacquer; māna stands tall and looks downward, insolently scorning beyond measure; the net of vicikitsā lacks faith and cannot be spoken to with truth. This is the characteristic of the turbidity of kleśas. As for the turbidity of views: asserting a person where there is no person, asserting no path where there is a path; the sixteen views and the sixty-two views, like nets or like dense thickets, entangle and twist, preventing escape. This is the characteristic of the turbidity of views. As for the turbidity of sentient beings: grasping body and mind to establish a single sovereign master, like sticky birdlime to which nothing fails to adhere, drifting through the six destinies and receiving birth everywhere; being poor as if suffering carbuncles, yet being named elder or wealthy. This is the characteristic of the turbidity of sentient beings. As for the turbidity of life: born in the morning and perishing in the evening; emerging by day and disappearing by dusk; turning like waves and swirling like smoke, not halting for a wink or a breath. This is the characteristic of the turbidity of life. Living in this time of turbidity and chaos, obstacles intensify: objects stir and the flames of consciousness burn away all wholesome roots; karma moves the wind of citta and blows away the pure dharmas. One clings to the ghost-realm of dveṣa-haunted demons; falls into the net of moha-afflicted rākṣasas; is detained by the king of lustful craving; and is driven and enslaved by the master of māras and adversaries. Who is able to suddenly awaken and imitate this complete cultivation? Having already been born in the central land, yet finding it difficult to encounter the era of a Buddha, one should now rejoice at having encountered these bequeathed texts. Moreover, gathered within this Mirror of the Source, from beginning to end there is nothing that is not genuine truth. Every word can awaken one to the Path; every character simply indicates the source. One must straightforwardly forget fatigue day and night and diligently investigate it. If one suddenly awakens through hearing and understands one's true mind, one immediately becomes a person who has attained the Path, perpetually inheriting the seed of bodhi. If one has not yet seen the Path, thought after thought encounters error; once the human body is lost, it will not be regained for myriad kalpas. Therefore the ancient teaching says: 'In a single breath there are four hundred arisings and ceasings; life hangs between inhalation and exhalation.' If one is a person who has not yet attained the Path, there is only the saṃsāra of transmigration, with life hanging as if by a thread. If one can hear it in the morning, one may die in the evening without regret. Hence the *Tiwei Sūtra* states: 'It is as if there were a person on Mount Sumeru lowering a fine thread...'