緇門警訓 2
English (machine translation) 2
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2.1
Inscription on Seated Meditation by Chan Master Longmen Foyan Yuan
2.2
The mind's light emptily mirrors; its essence is beyond partial or complete. / Golden ripples circle upon circle; dynamic and still, it is always Chan. / Thoughts arising and thoughts ceasing need not be halted; / Letting them flow on continuously, when did they ever arise or cease? / Arising and ceasing, quiescence and cessation—[here] appears Mahākāśyapa. / Sitting, lying, and circumambulating, never is there any pause. / When is Chan not sitting? When is sitting not Chan? / If one comprehends like this, only then is it called seated meditation. / Who is the one who sits? What kind of thing is Chan? / Yet wanting to sit it, using the Buddha to seek the Buddha. / The Buddha need not be sought; seeking him, you lose him all the more. / Sitting does not observe an ego; Chan is not an external technique. / At the outset when turbulent and confused, one cannot avoid turning and changing; / Therefore through many means they are taught quiet contemplation: / Sitting upright and collecting the spirit. At first turbulent, after a long time tranquil. / Emptily relax the six sense gates; when the six sense gates pause a while, / Discriminations arise within. As soon as discriminations are born, they already constitute arising and ceasing. / Arising, ceasing, shifting, changing—they manifest from one's own mind. / Again use one's own mind to turn back and observe once. / Turned back once, do not repeat: a round light crowns the head, spiritual flames blazingly radiate. / Mind after mind without obstruction, horizontally spanning, vertically penetrating; / Birth and death are perpetually stilled. / A single grain of returned elixir turns iron into liquid gold. / Dust-like guest defilements of body and mind have no gate to leak through. / Leave delusion and enlightenment unsaid; stop discussing adverse and agreeable. / Carefully reflect on former days sitting coldly and seeking: / Although not different, it was also a great mess. / In a single kṣaṇa, ordinary and sage—no one can believe it. / All over the earth people are in a rush; one must exercise the greatest care. / If you do not know this, sit upright and ponder: one day you will hit upon it. / I humbly bow! I humbly bow!
2.3
Three Self-Examinations
2.4
The lifespan of this body is like a colt passing a crevice. What leisure is there for idle sentiments to falsely engage in miscellaneous affairs? Having exalted the Śākya lineage, one must continue the tradition of the sect. Carefully examine the ancestral masters: what kind of exemplar were they?
2.5
The work of the Way is not yet completed, and we are far removed from the time of the sages. The teachings of good friends and masters truly cannot be abandoned. Arouse self-exertion, mindful of repaying the Buddha's kindness. Known only to oneself, let not the great resolve retreat.
2.6
Karmic conditions are illusory; one must not force them. How long does the floating world last? Accord with the abundance or scarcity of the family. Suffering and joy, adverse and favorable—the Way is in their midst. In movement and stillness, cold and warmth, examine oneself with shame and contrition.
2.7
Inscription on Seated Meditation by Chan Master Ehu Dayi
2.8
Investigating Chan and studying the Way have several manners; / The essential point is that the person must be able to choose the highest. / Do not merely forget the physical form and deaden the mind; / This illness is hardest to cure, being the most profound. / One must directly sit and investigate, probing to the source; / This Way has been transmitted through past and present across the world. / Sit upright and solemn like Mount Tai; / Majestic and imposing, do not just guard empty leisure. / One must directly pick up the sharpness of the hair-severing blade, / Desiring to lay bare the primary meaning brought from the West. / Stare wide with your eyes and twitch up your brows; / Repeatedly look at him: just who is he? / Just like catching a thief, one must see the loot; / Do not fear that the thief has hidden in the depths. / The wise apprehend him in the space of a kṣaṇa; / The unwise, year after year, never catch sight of his shadow. / Deeply I lament those sitting motionless, always like the dead; / For a thousand or ten thousand years they remain just like this. / If one takes such as this to be the Chan school, / The twirling of the flower and subtle smile would destroy the family tradition! / Sitting under the Black Mountain, soaked in dead water; / Across the vast, boundless earth, how can this be tolerated? / If you are a fellow with iron eyes and bronze pupils, / Grasping your own chest you can judge for yourself. / You must directly advance, taking awakening as the goal, / Letting out a single roar like a lion's cub! / Have you not seen the simile of polishing a brick to make a mirror? It has its reason: / When the cart does not move, it depends on beating the ox. / And have you not seen the clear water before the cliff, ten thousand fathoms deep and pure? / Sunk in stillness and silence, utterly soundless. / One day when fish and dragons come to churn it up, / Surging with billows and leaping with waves, it is truly worthy of respect! / Just like sitting in quietude without exerting effort: / In what year will you pass the examination and awaken to the emptiness of mind? / Swiftly set to work and aim your gaze high; / Be sure to bring it to completion in this very lifetime! / If you remain silently indulgent like a fool, / I know you do not understand how to apply your effort. / Shake up your spirits and look attentively; / Without form and without shadow, awakening is not difficult. / This is applying the mind with complete sincerity; / Courageous fellows must remember this! / Never listen to those who say there is no need to investigate; / The ancient sages diligently took this as their compass. / Although it is the old pavilion and idle land of the past, / Have you won it back even once? / If you wish to know the Immovable Honored One of seated meditation: / Where the wind blows, the grasses bend—all are discoursed upon. / Now the four seas are as clear as a mirror; / Every single thing is within my hearing. / Long, short, square, or round are only known to oneself; / From the beginning, not a single hair has ever shifted. / If you ask what seated meditation accomplishes: / The sun rises in the east, and at night sets in the west.
2.9
Instruction to the Assembly by Chan Master Hunrong of Donglin on Mount Lu
2.10
Fleeing the nobility and honor of ten thousand chariots, he endured six years of hunger and cold; without leaving the grass seat, he achieved equal and perfect awakening, delivering immeasurable multitudes. This is the model of pravrajyā set by the yellow-faced elder. Later generations forget their root and instead act only for the belly and body. Not laboring at plowing or sericulture, they find convenience in ready-made offerings; not serving their sovereign or parents, they find ease in escaping taxes and military corvée. Under a false name and robe, they steal worldly connections, turning contention into Buddhist affairs. Growing old without knowing repentance, upon death they become garden mushrooms—truly lamentable! You who have left home: you should think of equaling what was before the grass seat, and reflect on yourself [to avoid what lies] beneath the garden mushrooms. That is all.
2.11
Preface to the Record of the Mirror for Oneself by Dharma Master Xin of Langu
2.12
I left home at nine years of age, and until now I have passed sixty. As for strolling at ease through vast halls, pacing leisurely along fragrant courtyards, the body resting in softness, living in leisure and peace: before the morning stars fade, exquisite foods of the ten benefits are already laid out; when the sun is directly at its zenith, delicacies of the three virtues are fully gathered. I know not the exhausting toil of plowing and harvesting, nor the strenuous labor of cooking in cauldrons. For my six-foot body to grow and preserve its century-long life—by whom was this brought about? It is by the power of my fundamental teacher's vows. Estimating roughly for fifty years, food and drink in the court have consumed more than three hundred piculs; clothing and medicine for winter and summer have cost more than two hundred thousand coins. As for high gates and deep chambers, blue-glazed stairs and cinnabar pillars, the retinues of carriages and servants, the kinds of desks, tables, beds, and mats—the expenses are further boundless. Or again, when ignorance secretly arises and wrong views crop up in profusion, unlawful squandering and improper eating and drinking—the expenses are further difficult to measure. All of these come from others' strength to support and complete my use. Compared with those struggling anxiously for official ranks, how could one even compare their suffering and joy? Thus we know that the teaching of great loving-kindness is supreme, and the power of great compassion is profound. What is more, the Tamer of the Ten Epithets treats me as his child and shelters me; the eight classes of devas and nāgas treat me as their teacher and honor me. Though emperors and kings are noble, they dare not treat me as a subject—thus its nobility is evident; though respected parents are weighty, they dare not view me through filial duty—thus its veneration is clear. As for the drifting world of the four classes of commoners and the vast nine realms, whose storehouse is not my granary, and who is not my descendant? Therefore, when I raise my bowl to enter a house, sealed provisions are immediately uncovered; when I shake my staff upon entering the street, arrogant countenances become solemn and respectful. Ancient men, for the favor of a single meal, could still pledge their fidelity; for a single word of regard, they would still sacrifice their lives. How much more so when from head to foot, all is the Tathāgata's sustenance; from birth to death, all is the Tathāgata's shelter! Had I not encountered the Buddha's Dharma, had I not encountered pravrajyā, I would be braving frost and dew morning and night, toiling diligently in fields and furrows day and dusk, galloping in ten thousand pursuits, hard-pressed in a thousand schemes; tattered clothes and dusty rags might not suffice to cover my form; bean leaves and coarse weeds might not suffice to fill my mouth. How would I have had leisure to stay late beneath broad eaves, lean on a staff in tranquil courtyards, drag my shoes, engage in pure conversation, bare my chest in idle banter, avoid cold and heat, select sweet and bitter, scold the youth, demand water to be brought, letting loose the wild horse of the mind to harm the herd, or giving rein to the monkey of feelings to climb the trees? Yet the clouds of the three hindrances tower up, and the ten fetters entangle me; delusion and craving confuse the mind, while madness and folly cause distress. Self-regret and self-reproach alter within an instant; lament and sorrow change quickly over ten days or a month. Or again, ascending the hall to offer homage, I weep profusely in shame before the venerable forms; opening texts before the lectern, I shed tears in embarrassment before the noble teachings. Or I discipline myself through ragged clothing and dog's food with hardship and humiliation; damaging wealth and casting off friends, I torment myself with solitary poverty. In the end, I still cannot subdue the mountain of arrogance or quench the fire of desire, cast off crude sights and sounds, or escape the deep punishment of boiling cauldrons. Is this not painful? Is this not painful? Therefore, ever sorrowful and weeping, bitter suffering knows no end; Ākāśagarbha and Kṣitigarbha are powerless to rescue me. Furthermore, I turn back to examine myself, stroking my body: my ears and eyes are no less than those of ordinary men; my understanding and clear spirit are not inferior to celebrated contemporaries. What merit allowed me to be born in the Central Land? What good allowed me to join the pravrajyā? What sin causes me to breach the monastic precepts so often? What fault makes me obstinate and hard to transform? Hence, troubled day and night, I stand sighing at midnight, not knowing the way to be saved, not discerning the method to reform. Yet having received family instruction in youth and having early tasted the Śākya teachings, I have heard much of the departed words of elders and often visited the lofty discourses of eminent monks. Men of three reflections rely on leather and bowstrings for restraint; guests of nine twists await proverbs and inscriptions for guidance. Therefore, I have thoroughly investigated successive eras and browsed through various works, gathering the lowly who share this affliction and visiting those stranded at the bewildered ford. Those who slighted the noble words, made light of the burden of karma, indulged without shame, and were stubborn and undisciplined—those that may serve as warnings or exhortations—I have compiled and recorded them all. I have classified them into ten sections and divided them into three scrolls, to observe morning and evening in the hope of benefiting one in ten thousand. As for sitting and receiving the retribution of a dragon, instantly manifesting the body of a snake, an ox weeping as it ascends the slope, galloping and lowing around the monastery; or rods and whips falling together while the entire body burns with fire; or spears and halberds thrusting back and forth while blood flows at once; or the tongue dissolving and eyebrows falling off; or losing one's senses and going mad; or taking a handful of greens and becoming a slave; or encroaching upon a bundle of firewood and having one's feet burn; lodging the spirit in garden trees, slicing one's flesh to repay the dānapati's kindness; taking refuge in the prison, having one's bones transformed to receive the punishment for slandering others—what was not seen in the past is seen now; what was not known before is known at last. Wailing to heaven and knocking on the ground cannot undo it; broken gallbladders and shattered livers are of no avail. At such a time, even if parents had a hundred bodies, they could not redeem it; relatives and guests rushing from four quarters cannot save it; bribes and wealth piled high are displayed in vain; attendants beating their breasts—how can it help? Where is former joy and pleasure now? On what can former companions and kin rely? Alas! In the morning, a person of flourishing virtue chants hymns along the long corridor; in the evening, he is an injured soul, weeping bitterly in a dark room. This does not happen to that person alone; when I reflect upon myself, it may well be my turn. If in a hundred years this should happen to me, when will my shame and regret ever end? How could one not be heartbroken? How could one not be terrified? Therefore, I have compiled their beginnings and ends, keeping it ready at my side, earnestly encouraging myself with the admonition written on the sash, hoping for the merit of victory in battle. Those containing the elegant proclamations of eminent sages, the extraordinary deeds of wise men, the decline or flourish of the Way's transformation, and the right or wrong of contemporary affairs are also appended and recorded to impart to those of broad understanding. The ancients said: 'Though the form vanishes after a hundred years, the mind remains for a thousand years.' I truly hope that after a thousand years, people will know where my mind resided.
2.13
Text on Resolving Difficulties
2.14
The Head Monk Xiyan, whose courtesy name was Shengtu, was of a resolute and upright nature. Versed in both internal and external learning, he maintained himself with integrity and moral character. Having concluded his itinerant travels, he retired to his old cottage; his steps never entered mundane affairs, and he often sat in peaceful meditation behind closed doors. Unless one's conduct was noble and pure, he would not associate with them. Prominent gentlemen and nobles repeatedly invited him to various monasteries, but he resolutely declined to respond. At that time, there was a postulant named Can who had already wished to become a monk and attended at his side. Yan recognized that he was not the vessel [for it], and composed an 'Essay Resolving Difficulties' to reject him, saying: 'None knows a son like his father, and none knows a father like his son. A person like my Can is already not a vessel for monastic life. For pravrajyā to become a monk—is that a trifling matter? It is not to seek ease and comfort; it is not to seek warmth and satiety; it is not to seek name and gain upon a snail's horn. It is for birth and death; it is for sentient beings; it is to sever defilements, transcend the ocean of the traidhātuka, and continue the wisdom-life of the Buddhas! We are far removed from the holy times, and the Buddha-Dharma is in great decay—how dare you act so rashly? The Ratnarāśi-sūtra says: "If a bhikṣu does not cultivate the Dharma of a bhikṣu, throughout the great trichiliocosm there is no place [worthy of] his spit." The Tonghui lu says: "If one becomes a monk and does not participate in the affairs of the ten categories [of illustrious monks], will the Buddha's followers not find it difficult to have striven in vain for a hundred years?" Viewed from this perspective, I have improperly mingled in the ranks of the Saṅgha, bringing reproach upon the Buddha; how much more so if you were to do it! Furthermore, in undergoing pravrajyā to become a monk, if one does not know the three vehicles and twelve divisions of the teachings, nor the Way of the Duke of Zhou and Confucius; if one is blind to cause and effect and does not comprehend one's own nature; if one does not know the hardships of sowing and reaping, nor reflects on the difficulty of consuming the offerings of faith, but merely drinks alcohol and eats meat, breaks the fasting rules and violates the precepts, acts as an itinerant or sedentary merchant, commits theft, debauchery, and gambling, and covets monastery quarters and coming and going in carriages, merely pampering one's own self—how lamentable! Having a body of six feet yet being devoid of wisdom, the Buddha calls him a foolish monk. Having a three-inch tongue yet being unable to preach the Dharma, the Buddha calls him a mute-sheep monk. Resembling a monk yet not a monk, resembling a layperson yet not a layperson, the Buddha calls him a bird-rat monk, or also a shaven-headed householder. Thus the Śūraṅgama states: "Why do thieves don my robes, trafficking in the Tathāgata and creating various karmas?" They are not vessels to ferry the world across, but merely seeds of the hells. Even if Maitreya descends to be born and they can poke their heads out, their bodies will have already been plunged into the agonies of the hundred tortures of the Iron Enclosure, not for a single morning or evening. As for those who do it nowadays, counted by the hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands, they merely have the appearance and vestments! Frankly speaking, what is within them? They are what is called "having the feathers of a hawk yet uttering the cry of a phoenix." Rough stones are not jade; luxuriant mugwort and wormwood are not the patience-grass of the Snowy Mountains. When the state ordained monks, it was originally to pray for blessings; nowadays, on the contrary, it levies poll taxes on them to show the people that monks are no different, causing our order to be held in the utmost contempt. Just consider Master Lian of Yuwang, Song of Yong'an, Jing of Longjing, and Zhao of Lingzhi in past days: they were a patch of fur under a fox's armpit, while the rest are skins of a thousand sheep—how are they worth mentioning? Alas! The defilement of the ocean of the Buddha has never been worse than today! This may be spoken to the wise, but is difficult to discuss with worldlings.' (Shigu says: 'The fur under a fox's armpit is light, soft, and hard to obtain. Wanjun writes it as 掖.')
2.15
Testamentary Admonitions of Dharma Master Cheng, Eminent Monk of the Liang, to His Disciple
2.16
The mundane world is not solid; a floating life does not last long. My time has already declined, and your teeth and years are gradually advancing. Do not demean your body for worldly gain; do not seek advantage through empty fame. Do not make light of benevolence or despise righteousness; do not envy the good or be jealous of talent. Do not suppress the innocent; do not bury the virtuous. Do not be negligent in interpersonal affairs; do not be lazy in your burning of incense and cultivation. Do not indulge in sleep; do not pry into others' affairs. Do not have an empty belly and a lofty mind; do not plot for personal gain to benefit yourself. Do not rely on strength to bully the weak; do not benefit yourself to harm others. Do not despise the young because of your seniority; do not slight the elderly because of your youth. Do not look down on people because of your wealth and splendor; do not bow high to people out of pride. Do not intimately associate with what is unwholesome; do not reject and despise what is wholesome. Do not claim yourself to be right because of a trifling skill; do not speak of others' faults because of a slight understanding. Do not slight the host when you are a guest; do not treat traveling guests lightly when you are a host. Do not lose order when handling affairs; do not defy the assembly and breach regulations. Do not slander and blame others; do not fabricate and seek out others' shortcomings. Rather, turn your mind toward the Buddha-Dharma, and extinguish sentiment regarding mundane objects. To lose a human body beneath the kāṣāya is truly painful! To undergo various unnatural retributions in Naraka may indeed be called injustice. Moreover, you sit folded-handed in non-action, at ease without toil, walking slowly upon the golden ground and sitting aloft in splendid halls, your feet not treading in mud and your hands not flicking water. With the clothes upon your body and the food in your mouth, can they be easily digested? Shaving your crown and donning a squared robe—for what purpose is this? If your firmness and gentleness are well-measured, and your advancement and retreat are accommodating, then act when it is fitting to act, and cease when it is fitting to cease. Do not covet the immediate present; examine yourself frequently throughout the day. If a single point accords [with the Way], ten thousand pieces of gold can be digested. With thousands of exhortations and earnest words, bitter yet kind, I say: those who follow my words will meet again in future lives; if you do not follow my words, where do you intend to lift your head? Take care, take care!
2.17
Monk Official Ning of the Right Precinct Encourages Familiarity with External Learning
2.18
Now, in learning one should not tire of breadth; if there is something one does not know, it is an omission. Our school conveys [beings] far away, transporting them by means of the three vehicles' teachings. However, should māra-obstacles invade, one must resist aggression. In the art of resisting aggression, nothing surpasses knowing the enemy's condition. As for the enemy's condition: in Western India, it is the Vedas; in the Eastern Xia, it is the classics. Therefore, within the Jetavana monastery there was a Quadruple-Veda Cloister, which non-Buddhists regarded as the ultimate truth. There was also a library in which all different writings from within the great trichiliocosm were collected, and the Buddha permitted all of them to be read, in order to subdue non-Buddhists, yet he did not permit adhering to their views. That ancient virtuous and eminent monks of this land were able to cow and subdue rival schools was generally due to their extensive learning. For example, with barbarians whose language is unintelligible and whose food and drink are different, who could convey their intentions and communicate their desires? But if one understands a little of the barbarian language, they immediately become docile and harmonious. For this reason, Dao'an subdued Xi Zuochi with humor; Huiyuan attracted Zong Bing, Lei Cizong, and their like with poetry and ritual; Fuli softened Quan Wuer through debate and eloquence; and Jiaoran befriended Lu Hongjian by means of poetic forms. None of these employed other arts, but solely attained proficiency in external learning. Furthermore, the principles of Confucianism and Daoism are profound and far-reaching. Once sons of the Śākya have mastered their fundamental undertaking, what harm is there in delving into these to broaden their experience? Do not be stranded in a single quarter.
2.19
Motto on the Right Side of the Seat by Chan Master Zhi Dun of the Jin
2.20
Strive, strive! The ultimate Way does not brook delay; why linger and tarry?
Infantile and lost, the spirit is divine;
Boundless is the traidhātuka, endless and remote the long fetters.
Weariness and toil converge from without; the dark mind rushes within.
Sacrificing oneself to pursue thirst and craving, far away one forgets fatigue.
A person's life in this world is like a suspended drop of dew.
My body is not mine; to whom does all this talk apply?
The realized person cherishes virtue, knowing that security inevitably brings danger.
Solitary, pure, and elevated, one purifies defilements in the pool of dhyāna.
Prudently observe the clear prohibitions; elegantly expound the profound guidelines.
Pacify the mind in the spiritual Way; elevate the will in non-action.
Vastly illuminate the three obscurations; dissolve and cure the six flaws;
Empty the five skandhas into voidness; render the four limbs open and free.
A non-finger serves as a metaphor for a finger, severed yet not separated.
Once wondrous enlightenment is unfolded, one further makes its knowledge profound.
Gracefully and naturally letting go, one shifts and turns along with things.
Beyond this, do not think and do not deliberate.
2.21
Nine Chapters of Testamentary Admonitions by Dharma Master Dao'an of the Great Zhongxing Monastery in the Capital of the Zhou to Instruct His Disciples. His words say:
2.22
With respect I address my disciples and others: Pravrajyā to cultivate the Way is supremely grave and supremely difficult; you must not make light of yourselves, nor take it lightly. What is called 'grave' is to bear the Way and wear virtue, to encompass benevolence and shoulder righteousness, and to uphold the pure precepts until death brings an end. What is called 'difficult' is to cut off the world and leave mundane life, to sever kin and affection forever, to transform sentiment and alter nature so as to be unlike the multitude, to practice what people cannot practice, to abandon what people cannot abandon, and to endure hardship, suffer humiliation, and cast aside life and limb. Because of these difficulties, one is called a person of the Way. A person of the Way (daoren) is one who guides others (daoren). One's conduct must be treadable; one's speech must serve as a model. Donning robes and leaving household life, every movement must serve as a standard. Be neither greedy nor contentious, neither slanderous nor secretive. Let learning be elevated and far-reaching, and let the will rest in profound stillness. Thus one's name and fame will participate in the rank of the Three Honored Ones; one surpasses the worthy and enters the realm of the sagely, purifying the essential spirit. Therefore, rulers do not expect their recompense, and parents do not rely on their labor. None under the broad heavens does not take refuge in them, reducing wives' rations and curtailing sustenance to offer food and clothing, bending down and looking up without shrinking from toil or harboring resentment—this is because their aspiring conduct is pure and immaculate, communicating with the divine; tranquil, empty, and luminous, they are rare and venerable. Since these chaotic times have descended, the Way and Dharma have consequently declined. Novice practitioners do not comprehend the standards; clinging to the deviant, they abandon the upright and forget their reality. They take petty cunning for wisdom and slight deference for sufficiency. Satiated with food all day long, they employ their minds on nothing. Turning back to examine this, it is truly lamentable. Considering those who have undergone pravrajyā nowadays, some have done so for years, yet they do not comprehend the scriptural studies and cannot resolve the texts. In vain they squander a lifetime, accomplishing no reputation. Regarding such matters, can one not reflect deeply? The limit of impermanence is either morning or evening; the painful sufferings of the three paths make no distinction between strong and weak. Because the righteousness between teacher and disciple is profound, I therefore declare this, that it may serve as an everlasting admonition for all sentient beings.
2.23
The first says:
2.24
You have already left home, departing forever from those who gave you life.
Having shaved your hair and altered your countenance, you put on the Dharma robes and cultivate practice.
On the day you took leave of your kin, superiors and inferiors wept and shed tears.
Severing love to honor the Way, your intention soared above the Great Clear Heaven.
You should comply with this aspiration, cultivating and illuminating the scriptures and the Way.
How is it that with no [spiritual] mind, you still dwell on form and sound?
Passing the whole day in idleness, your scriptural studies are not accomplished.
Virtuous conduct daily diminishes, and accumulated defilements overflow.
Your teachers and friends are put to shame, and ordinary folk treat you with contempt.
Leaving home in such a manner, you merely disgrace your own name.
Now, therefore, I instruct and encourage you: you ought to be devoted and refined!
2.25
The second says:
2.26
You have already left home, casting off the mundane and taking leave of the sovereign.
You should encourage yourself, with aspirations reaching the blue clouds.
Giving no regard to wealth or sex, you do not flock with the worldly.
Valuing neither gold nor jade, you regard only the Way as precious.
Restraining yourself and maintaining integrity, relish bitterness and delight in poverty.
Advancing in virtue to deliver yourself, you will also be able to deliver others.
How is it that you have changed your integrity, hurrying about in the mundane dust?
Sitting without warming the mat, galloping east and west,
Worse than corvée labor, dragged about by county magistrates.
Without understanding the scriptures and the Way, precept-virtue remains incomplete.
Friends mock you, and fellow students abandon you.
Leaving home in such a manner, you merely squander your natural lifespan.
Now, therefore, I instruct and encourage you: you should each take pity on yourselves!
2.27
The third says:
2.28
You have already left home, taking leave of your clan forever.
Having neither kin nor strangers, remain pure and free from desires.
Do not rejoice in good fortune; do not grieve over calamity.
Transcend and be carefree, open and detached from the mundane.
Fix your will upon the profound and marvelous; emulate truth and preserve simplicity.
Attaining deliverance to broadly save, all will receive blessings and prosperity.
How is it that with no [spiritual] mind, you still cling to defiling contacts,
Arguing in vain over lengths, drams and ounces, pints and pecks?
Contending for gain with the world, how are you any different from servants?
The scriptures and Way are not illuminated, and virtuous conduct is insufficient.
Leaving home in such a manner, you merely bring disgrace upon yourselves.
Now, therefore, I instruct and indicate: you should wash and purify yourselves!
2.29
The fourth says:
2.30
You have already left home, titled 'person of the Way.'
You do not bow to parents, nor act as subjects to sovereigns and emperors.
The whole world reveres you together, serving you like a deity.
They bow their heads and pay homage, regardless of wealth or poverty,
Esteeming your pure cultivation, benefiting yourself and benefiting others.
The gravity of their reductions and sacrifices is 'a single grain weighs seven pounds.'
How is it that you are negligent and indolent, unable to repay their kindness?
Indulging in wanton wandering and leisure, body and mind are vexed in vain.
Consuming offerings without precepts, upon death you will enter Mount Tai.
Eating burning iron and drinking molten copper poured down your throat—
Agonies such as these are set forth in the Dharmapada.
Now, therefore, I admonish and instruct: you should change and draw close to virtue!
2.31
The fifth says:
2.32
You have already left home, titled 'one who quiets the mind.'
Unattached to defilement and confusion, you revere only the Way.
Your aspiration enters into purity, like jade and like ice.
You should cultivate the scriptures and precepts to rescue the spirit,
So that sentient beings receive protection and kin are delivered as well.
How is it that with no [spiritual] mind, you drift and sink with the mundane,
Indulging your four great elements and giving free rein to your five sense roots?
Virtue of the Way consequently wanes, and worldly affairs grow deeper.
Leaving home in such a manner, you mingle with the dust of the world.
Now, therefore, I lay down admonitions: may you open and awaken your spirit!
2.33
The sixth says:
2.34
You have already left home, abandoning worldly forms and the body; / You must endeavor to exhaust worldly sentiments and tally with nirvāṇa. / Why be turbulent and agitated, taking no delight in living in leisure? / The scriptural Way is impaired and depleted, while worldly affairs are more than abundant. / Purity and clarity are not cultivated; instead, you enter the mire. / A fleeting life like a passing shadow may last but a single instant; / The pains of the hells are hard to fully put into writing. / Now, therefore, I admonish and encourage you: you should venerate the canonical models.
2.35
The Seventh says:
2.36
You have already left home; you must not indulge yourself. / Though your appearance may be rustic and base, let your conduct be worthy of regard; / Though your robes may be coarse, let your sitting and rising be dignified; / Though your food and drink may be meager, let the words you speak be wholesome sustenance; / In summer, endure the heat; in winter, endure the cold. / Be able to maintain your integrity, not drinking from the Thieving Spring; / Before the offerings of the unworthy, let your feet not rashly advance. / Even when dwelling long in a private room, act as if facing the Supreme Lord; / Though your learning may not be vast, you can equal the superior worthies. / Leaving home in this manner is fully sufficient to repay your two parents; / Your kin, clan, and acquaintances will all receive the benefit. / Now, therefore, I admonish you: you should each exert yourselves.
2.37
The Eighth says:
2.38
You have already left home; people's natures are dim or bright. / Learning matters not whether it is much or little; the essential thing is to cultivate diligence. / The superior person practices seated meditation; the middling person recites the scriptures; / The lower person is capable of managing the stupas and monasteries. / How can one pass the entire day without accomplishing a single thing? / To establish oneself without any renown may be called living in vain. / Now, therefore, I instruct you: you should rectify your own mind.
2.39
The Ninth says:
2.40
You have already left home, forever departing from your two parents; / The Dharma of the Way reforms your nature, and worldly garments leave your body. / On the day you took leave of your kin, there was both grief and joy; / Loftily severing worldly ties, you transcended the dust of the world. / You ought to cultivate the scriptural Way, restrain yourself, and tread upon reality. / Why have no dedication, becoming dyed again with worldly conditions? / The scriptural Way is already frail, and your conduct lacks even the finest fraction; / Your words are not worthy of value, and your virtue is not worthy of esteem. / Causing trouble to your teachers and companions, their resentment and indignation grow daily deeper. / Leaving home in this manner harms the Dharma and disgraces your own person. / Ponder it and reflect upon it: take good care of yourself.
2.41
The Admonition on Leaving Home by Dharma Master Ci'en of the Great Tang
2.42
Abandoning home and leaving the household—what is the reason? / Bowing one's head to the King of Emptiness, seeking deliverance. / The three preceptors and seven witnesses establish the initial capacity; / Shaving the hair and dyeing the robes, one gives rise to the great vow. / Cast off greed and anger; eliminate pettiness and stinginess. / Throughout the twelve two-hour periods, constantly be cautious and heedful. / Polish and temper the true nature until it is like empty space; / Naturally, you will repulse the battle arrays of the demonic armies. / Diligently study and practice, seeking out masters; / Speak to your peers who are worthy of reliance. / Do not let the mind-ground become tangled like hemp; / A hundred years of time are casually wasted. / Follow in the steps of former worthies and learn from past sages; / Through hearing, contemplation, and cultivation, all attain realization. / In walking, standing, sitting, and lying down, one must be focused and dedicated; / Only when thought after thought is without error will there be resonance. / The twelve divisions of the Buddha's true scriptures / Comprehensively point out the path to bodhi. / If you neither study nor listen nor practice in accordance, / I ask you, on what day will your mind open in awakening? / You must urgently investigate as if your head were on fire; / Do not wait for next year or the year after. / Once a single breath fails to return, that is the next life; / Who can guarantee that this body is firm? / You do not raise silkworms for clothes, nor do you plow fields for food; / It is the blood and sweat of weaving women and tilling men. / Bestowed upon you so that you may accomplish the karma of the Way— / If the karma of the Way is not yet accomplished, how can you consume it? / Mournful is the father, mournful is the mother; / Swallowing the bitter and spitting out the sweet, their bitter toil was great. / Turning the dry side to the child while lying in the wet, they nurtured and reared you, / Wishing you to carry on the family style and succeed the ancestors. / One morning you bid farewell to your kin to seek the shaving of your head, / Leaving them at eighty or ninety with nothing to rely on. / If you do not transcend the ordinary and surpass the noble stream, / Following along in this laxity is an utter, colossal mistake. / The robe of the field of merit and the bowl that tames the dragon: / Partake of them for a whole life to seek liberation. / If on account of small gains you bind your mind, / How will you ever reach the other shore of nirvāṇa? / Good sons, you must know: / An encounter as rare as this present time / When you have met with leaving home and donning the patched hemp / Is like a blind turtle meeting a floating piece of wood. / A great man must be fierce and sharp; / Tighten the reins of body and mind; do not take things lightly. / If the power of practice and vows can mutually sustain you, / You will certainly receive the personal prediction of buddhahood at the Dragon Flower Assembly.
2.43
Record of the Hall for Examining Conduct at Falun Monastery on Mount Nanyue
2.44
Composed by Upāsaka Chaoran, Zhao Lingjin
2.45
I have often considered that among all sufferings, the suffering of illness is the deepest; among the acts of cultivating merit, visiting the sick is the foremost. For this reason, the ancients regarded having an illness as a kalyāṇamitra, and instructed people that nursing the sick is a field of merit. This is why monastic communities establish [facilities] for the elderly and sick. Nowadays, monastic communities gather assemblies; whenever anyone is ill, they send them to the Hall for Examining Conduct. It is not only to cultivate self-examination and reform conduct so as to ward off illness, but also with the wish that when the crowd has dispersed, in the stillness of the night, while a solitary lamp shines alone, one may investigate and pursue the Great Matter. How could this be in vain? Since a hall prefect is appointed to oversee medicine and food, and the permanent property is also enjoined to fully provide what is needed, this is the regulation of the former Buddhas. In recent times it is not so: the hall is named 'Prolonging Life,' which is vulgar, crude, and non-canonical. The sick do not examine their own faults; nourishing the body contrary to proper methods, decoctions and medicines are recklessly administered, which instead results in chronic ailments, even to the point of severe illness. Those who do not attend the meditation hall so as to pursue negligence and leisure completely lose the purpose of establishing the hall and naming it. The title of hall prefect exists in name but is neglected in reality, or he treats them like strangers on the road; the permanent property is pressed for daily expenses and shows no compassion or care at all. This, moreover, loses the intention of upāsakas in caring for the elderly and sick. Consequently, the groans and pains of the patients increase day by day to an extreme. The fault lies with those people; this is not the fault of the Tathāgata. Even if there are relatives and friends who visit the sick, they are generally just fellow villagers and old acquaintances; since the mind is not universal, affairs suddenly go amiss. Now, the sick quarters at Falun have been splendidly renewed, for there are dedicated practitioners who have accomplished everything in every detail; nothing can be criticized. Only, what should the patients themselves do? Examining oneself and reflecting on one's misdeeds—any person of discernment in the world can reach this. In the sphere of a patch-robed monk, directly cutting through the crux of the moment: precisely at the time of headache and feverish forehead, one must recognize the one that is agitated; in the midst of cries of grievance and calls of pain, one must comprehend the thoroughly weary mind. Secretly and closely investigate: who is it that receives the illness? Since the person cannot be found, from where does the illness come? When person and illness are both gone, what thing is this again? Even if you see it clearly, it is just the right time to nurture and nurse it.
2.46
Inscription on Calming the Mind by the Śramaṇa Dharma Master Wangming of the River Wei in Zhou
2.47
In the dharmadhātu there is a wish-fulfilling jewel of a man. / For a long time he kept his body sealed, and inscribed upon his chest, saying: / 'A person of antiquity who gathered in his mind! / Beware! Beware! / Do not overthink; do not know too much. / Much knowledge brings many affairs: better to calm your thoughts; / Much thinking brings many errors: better to guard the One. / When thinking is excessive, the aspiration is scattered; when knowledge is excessive, the mind is confused. / When the mind is confused, afflictions arise; when the aspiration is scattered, the Way is obstructed. / Do not say, "What harm is there?"—its suffering is long and drawn out; / Do not say, "What is there to fear?"—its calamity boils like a cauldron. / If drops of water do not stop, the four seas will be filled; / If fine specks of dust are not brushed away, the five sacred peaks will be formed. / Guarding against the branch lies in the root; though small, do not take it lightly. / Close your seven apertures; shut your six emotional desires. / Do not peep at sights; do not listen to sounds. / Those who hear sounds become deaf; those who see sights become blind. / A single piece of writing or a single art is but a tiny gnat in the sky; / A single skill or a single ability is but a solitary lamp beneath the sun. / The talents and arts of the brilliant and worthy are themselves foolishness and delusion; / Abandoning pure simplicity, they indulge in extravagant elegance. / The horse of consciousness easily bolts; the monkey of the mind is hard to subdue. / Once the spirit is worn out, the physical form will surely perish. / In the end, one becomes lost on deviant paths; on the long road, one is forever mired. / The talents and abilities of the brilliant and worthy are called darkness and ignorance; / To be stained and clumsy yet envy cleverness—such virtue is not clever. / When reputation is substantial but conduct is flimsy, one's high standing quickly collapses; / If spreading ointment is dirtied when rolled up, its use is not lasting. / Internally harboring pride and boastfulness, externally it incurs resentment and hatred. / Whether spoken by the mouth or written by the hand, / Seeking praise from others is also extremely shameful. / What the worldly call auspicious, the sages call a fault; / Enjoyment is brief, but grief and sorrow are long-lasting. / Fearing one's shadow and fearing one's footprints, the faster one runs, the worse it becomes; / Sit upright in the shade of a tree: the footprints vanish and the shadow sinks away. / Loathing birth and dreading old age, as thoughts arise, karmic actions are created; / If mental conceptions are extinguished, birth and death are forever severed. / Neither dying nor being born, without mark and without name, / The One Way is void and tranquil, and all things are equalized. / What is superior? What is inferior? What is heavy? What is light? / What is noble? What is base? What is disgrace? What is glory? / The clear sky is ashamed of its purity; the bright sun is humbled by its brilliance. / Secure like Mount Tai, firm like an impregnable fortress: / Respectfully presented to the worthy and wise, this Way is advantageous and auspicious.'
2.48
Rules and Admonitions by the Upādhyāya of Dongshan
2.49
Now, as for śramaṇas and disciples of the Śākya clan, being lofty and sublime is their fundamental aim. / Having already severed conditioned connections, it is proper to abide in simplicity and detachment. / Severing the affections and love of father and mother, / Relinquishing the etiquette and ceremonies of ruler and minister, / They shave their hair, dye their robes, hold the towel, and carry the bowl. / Treading the path that transcends the worldly dust, / Ascending the stairs to enter sagehood, / Clean and white as frost, pure and spotless like snow, / Dragon-spirits venerate them, and ghosts and specters submit to them. / Applying the mind with single-minded focus to repay the profound kindness of the Buddha, / Only then will the parents who gave birth to this body partake of the benefit. / How could one be permitted to associate intimately with disciples and chase after companions, / Occupying oneself with holding the brush and inkstone, galloping in literary compositions, / Trivializing oneself for fame and gain, restlessly rushing toward the worldly dust, / Giving no thought to the precepts and rules, and destroying one's dignified demeanor? / Taking the ease of a single lifetime / Creates the hardships of ten thousand kalpas. / If one studies like this, in vain is one called a disciple of the Śākya clan.
2.50
Sash Inscription by Repentance Master Ciyun Zunshi
2.51
Zhibai, you know what ought to be done each day. / Methods that harm the good should especially be kept far away; / The ways that diminish evil should increasingly be put to use. / Let the mouth not boast of oneself; let the mind not deceive itself. / Do not harbor inner vermin; do not flaunt outward demeanor. / Desiring people's praise while harboring personal selfishness / Is the beginning of killing righteousness, the basis of falling into disaster. / Depending on one's own virtue, there will surely be residual ridicule; / Boasting of one's own success, there will surely be residual blame. / When followers and dependents gather like a forest, you should keep far from them; / Offerings of profit and nourishment are like hairy flies: you should fear them. / Leaving this aside and reflecting upon it: / Besides repressing evil, what then is appropriate? / A single stick of pure incense, a few stems of red lotus; / Let the mouth not cease recitation, and let the mind have no other thoughts. / In practicing seated meditation and paying homage to the images, let the rules not be breached; / In measuring clothing and economizing food, let your aspiration not waver. / Writing worldly compositions: abstain from it as from the Buddha's precepts; / Speaking of others' shortcomings and strengths: be cautious of it according to the Dharma. / Even when facing guests and companions, let your mouth not use many words. / Frequently startled by the passing shadows of time, do not waste time in idle sitting. / The hollow substance of the plantain tree is not your long-term reliance; / The Lotus Pure Land is your true return. / Turn night into day, and diligently practice this.
2.52
Text of the Vow
2.53
May this body of mine cultivate the Way in peace and stability, / Free from all conditioned hindrances, with the saddharma unhindered, and the country abundant and joyous. / May I always dwell in the forests and wilderness, rejoicing in solitary stillness, / Clothed in patch-robes and fed on vegetables, content with my lot. / May I always fear the offerings of the faithful as if fending off a formidable enemy; / May I always stay away from dependents and followers as if distancing myself from a great foe. / May I always preserve dhyāna and prajñā as if guarding a rare jewel; / May I always abandon all evils as if casting off a harmful malady. / Let the Dharma robes and monk's staff be my armor and weapons against Māra; / Let the rope-bed and incense-burner be the tools that assist and tune the Way. / Setting these aside, may I have no other greed. / May habitual worldly customs never draw near to me; / May cravings, desires, fame, and profit never be my companions. / Slander and praise are hollow echoes, like wind passing the ear; / Patiently enduring both adversity and compliance, may my aspiration fully accomplish the karma of the Way.
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- 緇門警訓 — Classical Chinese