緇門警訓 1.28

1.28

Now, receiving a body bound by karma, one cannot avoid the burdens of physical form. Inheriting the physical remains of one's parents, it is jointly formed through relying on multiple conditions. Although supported by the four great elements, they are constantly in conflict with one another. Impermanence, old age, and sickness keep no appointment with people; alive in the morning, dead in the evening, in a single kṣaṇa one is in a different world. It is like spring frost or morning dew, vanishing in an instant; how could a tree on an eroding cliff or a vine over a well endure for long? Thought after thought passes swiftly; in a single kṣaṇa, a breath shifts and one is in the next life. Why then pass the time idly in vain? You do not provide delicious foods to your parents, and you have firmly abandoned and parted from your six relations. You cannot bring peace to the realm or govern the state, and your family estate is abruptly given up without continuing the lineage. Distantly leaving your native place and shaving your hair, you received transmission from a teacher, internally striving with the exertion of restraining wandering thoughts, and externally promoting the virtue of non-contention, escaping far beyond the dust of the world in hopes of achieving liberation. Why is it that, having barely mounted the rank of the precepts, you immediately declare, "I am a bhikṣu"? You consume what is provided by dānapatis, yet you never reflect on what belongs to the permanent saṅgha and whence it came, claiming, "It is naturally so that offerings should be made to me." Having eaten, you gather heads together in noisy clamour, talking of nothing but miscellaneous worldly affairs. Yet, pursuing pleasure for a season, you do not know that pleasure is the cause of suffering. Following after the dust of the senses for past kalpas, you have never turned inward to reflect. The daylight is swallowed up, months and years pass in vain, the requisites you receive and enjoy are opulent and manifold, and the gains offered are abundant and lavish. Moving through months and years, you never suspect to renounce and depart from them; what you amass grows ever greater, merely preserving this illusory body. The Guide has commanded, admonishing and exhorting the bhikṣus: in advancing on the Path and adorning the body, let the "three constants" always be insufficient. People mostly indulge in their pleasures without ceasing; days go by, months arrive, and swiftly their hair turns white. Later learners who have not yet heard the essential principles ought to inquire extensively of those of prior wisdom; thinking that leaving household life values seeking clothing and food, they overlook that the Buddha first laid down the vinaya, initiating and awakening the ignorant with rules and dignified deportment, pure as ice and snow. Restraint and observance, prohibited and transgressed—these hold and constrain the beginner's mind, its minute and subtle clauses reforming all coarse depravities. If you have never participated in the assembly of the vinaya, how could you distinguish the definitive Mahāyāna? What a pity to pass a whole life in vain, when later regrets will be hard to redeem! You have never kept the teachings and principles in mind, and you have no cause to accord with and awaken to the profound Path. When your years are advanced and your monastic seniority grows, your belly is empty and your mind haughty, refusing to draw near to good companions, knowing only arrogance and unfamiliar with the rules and laws, utterly devoid of restraint. Or else, speaking loudly in a booming voice, you utter words without measure, showing no respect to the senior, middle, or junior seats, no different from a gathering of brāhmaṇas. Your bowls and platters clatter with noise, and having eaten, you are the first to rise; your conduct is discordant, utterly devoid of the monastic deportment. Rising and sitting in a restless stir, you agitate the minds of others; you do not maintain the slightest rule or petty deportment—how will you constrain those who come after? New learners will have no pattern to imitate. No sooner are you called to awareness than you declare, "I am a mountain monk, I have not heard the Buddhist teachings"; your practice is entirely coarse and crude. Such views are simply because the beginner's mind was indolent and gluttonous, procrastinating and letting time slip by. Thus in the human world you become uncouth and wild, unwittingly stumbling into decrepit old age, facing a wall in every affair. When later learners consult you, you have no words to guide them; even if you speak, it does not touch upon the classical canons. If lightly spoken of by others, you immediately reproach the juniors as impolite; wrathful thoughts arise in fury, speaking ill of people. One day, lying sick upon your bed, entangled and pressed by many sufferings, thinking day and night, your mind is terrified and panicked; the road ahead is vast and hazy, and you know not where you are going. Only then do you begin to know to regret your faults; but what is the use of digging a well when parched with thirst? You regret having not cultivated beforehand, so that in your late years you have many faults and blunders. Facing departure, you tremble in panic and terror; the granary is breached and the sparrow flies away. The mind of consciousness follows karma; like a person in debt, the strongest pull comes first. The mind's threads are manifold, and one falls towards where the weight is heaviest. The murderous demon of impermanence does not halt for a single thought-moment; life cannot be prolonged, time cannot be awaited. Human and heavenly beings in the traidhātuka shall not escape it. Thus receiving bodies, it is beyond calculation of kalpas. Grieved, sighed, and astonished, it pierces the heart with sorrow! How could we remain silent and not admonish one another? What is regrettable is being born together in the semblance-Dharma age, distant from the era of the Sage. The Buddhadharma has grown unfamiliar, and people are mostly negligent. I briefly present my humble views to instruct those who come after; if we do not purge our pride, it will truly be hard to escape the cycle of existence.