佛祖歷代通載 16.49

16.49

（廿九　癸酉）　溈山靈祐禪師示寂。師嘗示眾曰。夫道人之心。質直無偽。無背無面無詐妄心。行一切時視聽尋常。更無委曲亦不閉眼塞耳。但不附物即得。從上諸聖只是說濁邊過患。若無如許多惡覺情見想習之事。譬如秋水澄渟清淨無為澹泞無礙。喚作道人。亦名無事人。時有僧問。頓悟之人還更有修不。師云。若真悟得本他自知時。修與不修是兩頭語。如今初心雖從緣得一念頓悟自理。猶有無始曠劫習氣。未能頓淨。須教渠淨除現業流識。即是修也。不道別有法教渠修行趣向。從聞入理聞理深妙。心自圓明不居惑地。雖有百千妙義抑揚當時。此乃得坐披衣自解作活計。時相國鄭愚為之碑曰。天下之言道術者多矣。各用所宗為是。而五常教化人事之外。於精神性命之際。史氏以為道家之言。故老嚴之類是也。其書具存。然至於盪情累外生死。出於有無之間。超然獨得。言象不可以擬議。勝妙不可以意況。則浮屠氏之言禪者。庶幾乎盡也。有口無所用其辨。巧歷無所用其數。愈得者愈失。愈是者愈非。我則我矣。不知我者誰氏。知則知矣。不知知者何以。無其無不能盡。空其空不能了。是者無所不是。得者無所不得。山林不必寂。城郭不必諠。無春夏秋冬四時之行。無得失是非去來之迹。非盡無也。冥於順也。遇所即而安。故不介於時。當其處無必。故不局於物。其大旨如此。其徒雖千百。得者無一二。近代言之者必有宗。宗必有師。師必有傳。然非聰明瓌宏傑達之器。不能得其傳。當其傳是皆鴻庬偉絕之度也。今長沙郡西北有山。名大溈。蟠木窮谷不知其遍幾千百里。為羆豹虎兕之宅。雖夷人射獵虞迹樵夫。不敢田從也。師始僧號靈祐。生福唐。笠首屩足背閩來游。菴於翳薈非食不出。棲棲風雨默坐而已。恬然晝夜物不能害。非夫外死生忘憂患冥順大和者。熟能於是哉。昔孔門殆庶之士。以單瓢樂陋巷。夫子猶稱詠之。以其有生之厚也。且生死於人得喪之大者也。既無得於生。必無得於死。既無得於得。必無得於失。故於其間得失是非所不容措。委化而已。其為道術。天下之能事畢矣。凡涉語是非之端。辨之益惑。無補於學者。今不論也。師既以茲為事。其徒稍稍從之。則與之結構廬室。與之伐去陰黑。以至於千有餘人。自為飲食紀綱。而於師言無所是非。其有問者隨語而答。不強所不能也。數十年言佛者。天下以為稱首。武宗毀寺遂僧。逐空其所。師遽裹首為民。惟恐出蚩蚩之輩。有識者益貴重之。後湖南觀察使裴公休。酷好佛事。值宣宗釋武宗之禁。固請迎而出之。乘之以已輿。親為其徒列。又議重削其鬚髮師始不欲。戲其徒曰。爾以鬚髮為佛耶。其徒愈強之。不得已笑而從之。復到其所居。為同慶寺而歸。諸徒復來。其事如初。師皆幻視無所為意。忽一日笑報其徒示若有疾。以大中七年正月九日歸寂。年八十三。即窆於大溈之南阜。後十有一年。其徒以師之道上聞。始加諡號及墳塔。以厚其終。噫人生萬類之最靈者。而以精神為本。自童孺至老白首。始於飲食。漸於功名利養。是非嫉妬晝夜纏縛。又其念慮未嘗時餉歷息。煎熬形器起如冤讐。行坐則思想。偃臥則魂夢。以耽淫之利欲。役老朽之筋骸。餐飯既耗齒髮已弊。猶拔白餌藥以從其事。外以夸人內以欺己。曾不知息陰休影捐慮安神。求須臾之暇。以至溘焉而盡。親友不翅如行路。利養悉委之他人。愧負積於神明。辱殆流於後嗣。淫渝汗漫不能自止。斯皆自心而發。不可不制以道術。道術之妙莫有及此。佛經之說益以神聖。然其歸趣悉臻無有。僧事千百不可梗槩。各言宗教自相矛盾。故褐衣圓頂未必皆是。若予者洗心於是逾三十載。適師之徒有審虔者。以師之圖形。自大溈來。知予學佛求為讚說。觀其圖狀。果前所謂鴻庬絕特之度者也。既與其贊。則又欲碑師之道於精廬之前。予笑而諾之。遂因其說以自警觸。故其立言不專以褒大溈之事云。

(Twenty-ninth year, guiyou) Chan Master Lingyou of Guishan entered quiescence. The Master once instructed the assembly, saying: "The mind of a person of the Way is straightforward and unfeigned, without back or front, and without a deceptive or false mind. In all circumstances and times, seeing and hearing are ordinary; there are no devious twists, nor does one close the eyes or stop the ears. So long as one does not cling to things, that is sufficient. All the sages from antiquity have only spoken of the faults and perils of the defiled side. If one is without such numerous things as evil perceptions, emotional views, and habitual tendencies, it is like autumn water: clear and settled, pure and unconditioned (asaṃskṛta), tranquil and unobstructed. This is called a person of the Way; it is also termed 'a person with nothing to do.'" At that time a monk asked, "Does a person of sudden enlightenment still have cultivation or not?" The Master said, "If one truly awakens to the fundamental and recognizes it for oneself, cultivation and non-cultivation are two-ended talk. As for novices now, although through conditions they attain sudden enlightenment in a single thought to their own inherent nature, they still have habitual tendencies accumulated over beginningless eons that cannot be completely cleansed at once. They must be taught to purify and eliminate the karmic manifestations of their flowing consciousness—this is cultivation. It is not said that there is some other method to instruct them to cultivate and progress toward. Entering into the principle through hearing, the heard principle is profound and marvelous; the mind is spontaneously perfect and luminous, not dwelling in the place of delusion. Though there may be hundreds of thousands of subtle meanings to praise or censure at the moment, this is merely attaining the seat, donning the robe, and knowing for oneself how to make a living." At that time, Chief Minister Zheng Yu composed a stele inscription for him, which said: "Many across the realm speak of the arts of the Way. Each considers his own tradition to be correct. Yet beyond the five constant virtues, edification, and human affairs, regarding spirit, nature, and destiny, the historians consider them the teachings of the Daoist school, such as Laozi and Zhuangzi. Their texts are fully preserved. Yet when it comes to sweeping away emotional entanglements, transcending life and death, emerging between being and non-being, being aloof and attaining alone—so that words and forms cannot conceptualize it, and supreme subtleties cannot be imagined—then the Buddhists who speak of Chan have nearly exhausted it. Those with a mouth have no use for its eloquence; clever calculators have no use for their numbers. The more one attains, the more one loses; the more one considers right, the more one errs. 'I' is just 'I,' but who knows who this 'I' is? 'Knowing' is just 'knowing,' but by what does the knower know? Negating its non-being cannot exhaust it; emptying its emptiness cannot consummate it. What is right has nowhere it is not right; what is attained has nowhere it is not attained. Mountains and forests need not be tranquil; cities and suburbs need not be clamorous. There is no operation of the four seasons—spring, summer, autumn, and winter; there are no traces of gain and loss, right and wrong, or coming and going. It is not that all is nonexistent; it is being obscurely united with conformity. One rests at ease wherever one encounters circumstances; thus one is not constrained by time. Resting in one's place without preconceptions; thus one is not confined by things. Such is its grand purport. Though his followers numbered in the hundreds and thousands, those who attained it were not even one or two. In recent ages, those who speak of it must have a lineage; a lineage must have a master; a master must have a transmission. Yet without the vessel of an intelligent, magnificent, outstanding, and penetrating character, one cannot obtain its transmission. Those who receive its transmission are all of grand, vast, eminent, and peerless capacity. Now, northwest of Changsha Commandery there is a mountain named Da Gui. Entwined trees and deep ravines extend for who knows how many hundreds or thousands of li, serving as the dwelling of brown bears, leopards, tigers, and rhinoceroses. Even indigenous hunters, track-following foresters, and woodcutters dared not venture there. When the Master first became a monk, his monastic name was Lingyou. Born in Futang, with a bamboo hat on his head and straw sandals on his feet, he left Min and came wandering. He thatched a hut in the dense brushwood, never coming out except to eat. Enduring winds and rains, he merely sat in silence. Serene day and night, creatures could not harm him. If not for one who transcends life and death, forgets sorrow and suffering, and obscurely accords with the Great Harmony, who could accomplish this? Anciently, the disciples of Confucius who nearly attained the Way rejoiced in a mean alley with a single gourd bowl; the Master still praised them because they were rich in life. Moreover, life and death are the greatest gain and loss to humanity. Since one has no gain in life, one must have no gain in death. Since one has no gain in gain, one must have no gain in loss. Therefore, in between, gain and loss, right and wrong have no place to stand; one simply entrusts oneself to transformation. As for this art of the Way, all human capacities under heaven are fulfilled by it! In all matters involving the extremes of right and wrong, the more one disputes them, the more one is confused, bringing no benefit to students; hence I do not discuss them here. Once the Master took this as his practice, his disciples gradually followed him; they constructed dwellings for him and cleared away the dense overgrowth, until there were more than a thousand people. They managed their own food, drink, and administrative duties, without arguing over the Master's words. When someone asked, he answered according to the words, never forcing what could not be done. For several decades, whenever people spoke of the Buddha, the world considered him the foremost. When Emperor Wuzong destroyed the monasteries and expelled the monks, driving them away and emptying their dwellings, the Master immediately wrapped his head and became a commoner, fearing only to stand apart from the ordinary folk. Those with discernment honored him all the more. Later, Pei Xiu, Surveillance Commissioner of Hunan, deeply loved Buddhist affairs. Coinciding with Xuanzong lifting Wuzong's prohibitions, he persistently invited him to come forth, had him ride in his own carriage, and personally stood in line among his disciples. He also proposed shaving his beard and hair again. The Master initially did not desire it, teasing his disciples, 'Do you take beard and hair to be the Buddha?' His disciples urged him ever more strongly; having no choice, he smiled and complied. Returning to his dwelling, he founded Tongqing Monastery and took up residence. The disciples returned again, and affairs continued as before. The Master viewed all as an illusion, paying it no heed. Suddenly one day he smilingly announced to his disciples, manifesting signs of illness. On the ninth day of the first month in the seventh year of Dazhong, he returned to quiescence at the age of eighty-three. He was buried on the southern mound of Da Gui. Eleven years later, his disciples reported the Master's Way to the throne, and posthumous titles as well as a memorial stupa were first conferred upon him to enrich his end. Alas! Humans are the most spiritual among the myriad kinds, taking the spirit as their foundation. From childhood to old age and white hair, it begins with food and drink, advances into fame, profit, and livelihood; right and wrong, jealousy and envy bind them day and night. Moreover, their thoughts and cares never rest for an instant; tormenting their physical frames, they rise up like sworn enemies. Walking and sitting, they reflect and ponder; lying down, their souls dream. Gratifying their passions with profit and desire, they enslave their decrepit sinews and bones. When their meals have dwindled and their teeth and hair have withered, they still pluck out white hairs and swallow elixirs to pursue these matters, boasting to others outwardly while deceiving themselves inwardly. They never understand resting in the shade, ceasing the shadow, relinquishing anxieties, and pacifying the spirit to seek a moment of leisure, until they suddenly come to an end. Relatives and friends are no different from strangers on the road; their profits and provisions are wholly abandoned to others. Guilt and shame accumulate before the spirits; disgrace and peril flow to their descendants. Immorality and corruption spread uncontrollably; these all arise from the mind and cannot but be restrained by the arts of the Way. The subtlety of the arts of the Way has none surpassing this! The teachings of the Buddhist scriptures are all the more divine and holy, yet their ultimate direction completely arrives at non-being. Monastic affairs number in the hundreds and thousands, which cannot be summarized in general; each speaks of its own lineage and doctrine, contradicting one another. Therefore, those wearing coarse robes and having shaved heads are not necessarily all correct. As for myself, I have cleansed my mind in this for more than thirty years. It happened that among the Master's disciples there was Shenqian, who brought a portrait of the Master from Da Gui; knowing that I studied Buddhism, he asked me to compose a eulogy. Looking at his portrait, it indeed possessed the grand, vast, and peerless bearing mentioned before. After giving him the eulogy, he then wished to erect a stele for the Master's Way in front of the monastery. I smiled and agreed to it, and thereupon used his words to admonish and examine myself. Thus, my words were not composed solely to praise the affairs of Da Gui."