緇門警訓 3.3

3.3

In ancient times, scholars studying the Way deadened their minds and extinguished their ambitions amidst deep mountains and secluded valleys. They hollowed out the earth to make huts, wove grasses to make clothes, scooped from the mountain stream to drink, and boiled goosefoot to eat. Tigers and leopards were their neighbors; apes and monkeys were their companions. Only when unavoidable did their fragrance and fame spread and their literary radiance shine forth; then emaciated companions of like mind, not thinking a thousand li too far, would bundle their provisions and put on straw sandals to come follow and travel with them. When the person of the Way firmly rejected and would not receive them, they would gather firewood for him, pound grain and cook for him, sprinkle and sweep for him, reap and plant for him, and serve and run errands for him—all to offer their toil and bring about single-minded devotion. Months and years accumulated, yet they did not tire or weary themselves, hoping that the master would see them, take pity on them, and bestow upon them the benefit of a single word, thereby crossing beyond the shore of birth and death. How could there have been what is called today the magnificence of halls, pavilions, and palaces; the comfort of bed frames and bedding; the warmth of felt tents; the coolness of bamboo mats; the brightness of windows; the cleanliness of towels and cloths; the abundance of food and drink; and the plentifulness of gold and coins—having whatever is needed and obtaining whatever is sought? Alas! The ancients—I cannot see them! Now, because the Yong'an Chan Cloister has renovated its saṅgha hall, I am able to express my lingering thoughts. In the sixth year of the Yuanyou era, in the eleventh month of winter, I was inspecting the commandery and passed through Linchuan. I heard that the head monk of Yong'an, having grown old and sick, had passed away, and that Liaochang, a disciple of Congyue of Doushuai, had succeeded him. When Chang ascended the seat to preach the Dharma, a son of the Chen family heard it once pass through his ears and gave rise to great joy. He said to Chang: 'Discerning the master's instruction attentively, I have never heard such before. Pure companions will surely gather like clouds, but the saṅgha hall is cramped and humble; how can you host them? I wish to donate one million from my family wealth to rebuild it for the assembly.' The next year the hall was completed; its height, width, and spaciousness were perhaps the foremost in Jiangyou. Chang sent someone to request an essay, saying: 'You, Sir, pressed Chang in the mountains and brought about this [hall]. Fortunately, it has finally been completed.' I had [the messenger] tell Chang to strike the drum to gather the assembly, and in accordance with my intention, address them, saying: 'You bhikṣus! Now that this hall has been completed, sitting, lying down, and walking are entirely at your ease. If you can sleep here with a knife drawn, free from all dreams, then Baizhang is you, and you are Baizhang. If this is not so, torpor and sleep will be a venomous snake lurking in your heart, dark and ignorant, entering the underworld in broad daylight. If you can sit cross-legged in quietude here and deeply enter dhyāna-samādhi, then Subhūti is you, and you are Subhūti. If this is not so, you will be like a monkey in a cage seeing wild pears and chestnuts from the outside, your confused thoughts running wild, seated while turning into a different species. If you can open a scripture horizontally and recite it here, grinding and savoring the holy meaning, entering the sudden by means of the gradual, and entering the complete by means of the sudden, then the Tripiṭaka is you, and you are the Tripiṭaka. If this is not so, you will be like spring birds crying by day and autumn insects chirping by night, impelled by the seasonal air without any meaning whatsoever. If you can examine the sayings of the ancients here, awakening to a thousand upon seeing one, and enter the red dust to turn the great wheel of the Dharma, then all the patriarchs are you, and you are all the patriarchs. If this is not so, you will be like a dog gnawing a dry bone or an owl pecking a rotten rat, flapping your beak and opening your lips, only increasing the fire of hunger. Therefore, if you divide it into foul and pure, arrange it into cause and effect, distinguish it into feelings and thoughts, and respond to it as suffering and pleasure, you will drift and sink until the limit of the future. That being so, for those who made this hall, there is loss and there is benefit; for those who dwell in this hall, there is advantage and there is harm. You bhikṣus ought to know this! If you can sever the topknot of Vairocana, chop off the arm of Avalokiteśvara, gouge out the eyes of Mañjuśrī, break the shins of Samantabhadra, smash the seat of Vimalakīrti, and burn the robe of Kāśyapa—if you receive it like this, even if gold were made into tiles and white silver into walls, you would still be worthy of it, how much more so a single hall! Take warning and exert yourselves! My words are not empty. Liaochang consulted and inquired of Master Yue for more than ten years, fully grasping his ultimate great matter, which is what the ancient worthies called the treasure sword of the Vajra King.' Written by the fireside on a snowy night at the Chiwu Daoist Abbey in Nankang, on the tenth day of the twelfth month of the seventh year of the Yuanyou era, to serve as a record.