隋天台智者大師別傳 1.2.3

1.2.3

草知我誰昔浮頭玄高雙弘定慧。 厥後沈喪單輪隻翼而已。 逮南嶽挺振至斯為盛者也。 陳始興王出鎮洞庭。 公卿餞送皆迴車瓦官。 傾捨山積虔拜殷重因而歎曰。 吾昨夜夢逢強盜。 今乃表諸軟賊。 毛繩截骨則憶曳尾泥間。 仍謝遣門人曰。 吾聞闇射則應於絃。 無明是闇也。 脣舌是弓也。 心慮於弦音聲如箭。 長夜虛發無所覺知。 若益一人心弦則應。 又法門如鏡方圓如像。 若緣牽心轆轤無盡。 若緣杜心自然蹇澁。 昔南嶽輪下及始濟江東法鏡屢明心絃。 數應初瓦官。 四十人共坐。 二十人得法。 次年百餘人共坐。 二十人得法。 次年二百人共坐。 減十人得法。 其後徒眾轉多得法轉少。 妨我自行化道可知群賢各隨所安。 吾欲從吾志。 蔣山過近非避喧之處。 聞天台地記稱有仙宮。 白道猷所見者信矣。 山賦用比蓬萊。 孫興公之言得矣。 若息緣茲嶺啄峯飲澗展平生之願也。 陳宣帝有勅留連徐僕射濟涕請住匪從物議直指東川。 即陳太建七年秋九月初入天台。 歷游山水弔道林之栱木。 慶曇光之石龕。 訪高察之山路。 漱僧順之雲潭數度石梁。 屢降南門荏苒淹流未議卜居。 常宿於石橋見有三人皁幘絳衣。 有一老僧引之而進曰。 禪師若欲造寺山下有皇太子寺基。 捨以仰給。 因而問曰。 止如今日草舍尚難。 當於何時能辦此寺。 老僧答云。 今非其時三國成一有大勢力人能起此寺。 寺若成國則清。 當呼為國清寺。 于時三方鼎峙車書未同。 雖獲冥期悠悠。 何曰且旋塗出谷見佛隴南峯左右。 映帶最為兼美。 即徘徊留意。 有定光禪師。 居山三十載迹晦。 道明易狎難識。 有所懸記多皆顯驗其夕。 乃宿定光之草庵。 咸聞鐘磬寥亮山谷從微至著起盡成韻。 問光此聲疎數。 光舞手長吟曰。 但聞鳴槌集僧。 是得住之相臆覩招手相引時不。 餘人莫解其言。 仍於光所住之北峯創立伽藍。 樹植松巢引流遶砌。 瞻望寺所全如昔夢無毫差也。 寺北別峯呼為華頂。 登眺不見群山。 暄涼永異餘處。 先師捨眾獨往頭陀。 忽於後夜大風拔木。 雷震動山魑魅千群一形百狀。 或頭戴龍虺。 或口出星。 火形如黑雲聲如霹靂。 倏忽轉變不可稱計。 圖畫所寫降魔變等。 蓋少小耳可畏之相復過於是。 而能安心湛然空寂。 逼迫之境自然散失。 又作父母師僧之形。 乍枕乍抱悲咽流涕。 但深念實相體達本無。 憂苦之相尋復消滅強軟二緣所不能動。 明星出時神僧現曰。 制敵勝怨乃可為勇。 能過斯難無如汝者。 既安慰已復為說法。 說法之辭可以意得。 不可以文載。 當於語下隨句明了。 披雲飲泉水日非喻。 即便問曰。 大聖是何。 法門當云何學云何弘宣。 答此名一實諦。 學之以般若。 宣之以大悲。 從今已後若自兼人。 吾皆影響頭陀既竟。 旋歸佛隴風煙山水外足忘憂。 妙慧深禪內充愉樂。 然佛隴艱阻舟車不至。 年既失稔僧眾隨緣。 師共慧綽種苣拾橡安貧無慼。 俄而陳宣帝詔云。 禪師佛法雄傑時匠所宗訓兼道俗國之望也。 宜割始豐縣調以充眾費蠲兩戶民用給薪水。 眾因更聚亦不為欣。 有陳郡袁子雄奔林百里。 又新野庾崇斂民三課。 兩人登山值講淨名遂齋戒連辰。 專心聽法雄見堂前有山瑠璃映徹。 山陰曲澗琳瑯布底。 跨以虹橋填以寶飾。 梵僧數十皆手擎香爐從山而出。 登橋入堂威儀溢目。 香煙徹鼻雄以告崇。 崇稱不見並席天乖其在此矣。 雄因發心改造講堂。 此事非遠堂今尚在。 但天台基壓巨海。 黎民漁捕為業。 為梁者斷谿為[竺-二+(一/(尸@邑))]者。 瀋海秋水一漲巨細填梁。 晝夜二潮嗷𠲺滿[竺-二+(一/(尸@邑))]髗骨成岳蠅蛆若雷。 非但水陸可悲。 亦痛舟人濫殞。 先師為此而運普悲乘捨身衣。

hastily recognised who I was: "In the past, Fotudeng and Xuan'gao both promoted calming and contemplation equally; after that, it sank into decline, becoming merely a single wheel or a single wing. It was not until the Southern Peak gave it a powerful resurgence that it flourished to this height." When King Shixing of Chen went out to govern Dongting, the dukes and ministers sending him off all turned their carriages to Waguan Temple, piling their abundant donations like a mountain and bowing with deep devotion. Thereupon [the Master] sighed and said: "Last night I dreamt I encountered fierce bandits, and today it turns out to manifest these soft thieves! As a hair rope cutting through the bone makes one yearn to drag one's tail in the mud, [so I feel now]." He then dismissed his disciples, saying: "I have heard that shooting in the dark corresponds to [the vibration of] the string. Ignorance is the dark; lips and tongue are the bow; mental deliberation is the string, and vocal sounds are the arrows. Firing aimlessly throughout the long night brings no awareness; but if one person is benefited, the string of the mind responds. Furthermore, the Dharma-gate is like a mirror, and square and round are like images: if conditions pull at the mind, the windlass turns without end; if conditions shut off the mind, it naturally halts and stumbles. In the past, beneath the wheels of the Southern Peak and when I first crossed to the east of the Jiang, the Dharma-mirror shone repeatedly and the heart-string frequently responded. At first at Waguan, forty people sat together and twenty attained the Dharma. The next year over a hundred sat together and twenty attained the Dharma. The following year two hundred sat together and fewer than ten attained the Dharma. After that, the disciples grew ever more numerous, yet those attaining the Dharma grew fewer. This obstructs my own practice, and you can well understand the way of teaching; let all you virtuous ones go wherever you are at peace. I wish to follow my own aspiration. Mount Jiang is too close, not a place to escape clamour. I have heard that the Tiantai Gazetteer states there is an immortal palace there, and what was seen by Bai Daoyou was true indeed. The poetic rhapsody on the mountains compared it to Penglai; Sun Xinggong's words were right on the mark. If I can rest all conditions on this ridge, peck at peaks, drink from streams, and fulfil the wish of my lifetime...!" Emperor Xuan of Chen issued an edict to detain him, and Left Vice-Director of the Department of State Affairs Xu Ling tearfully begged him to stay; but, paying no heed to public opinion, he went straight to the eastern streams. Thus, in the autumn of the seventh year of the Taijian era of the Chen (575), in the ninth month, he first entered Tiantai. He wandered through the mountains and waters: paying homage to the large timber trees of Daolin; celebrating the stone niche of Tanguang; seeking out the mountain path of Gaocha; and rinsing his mouth in the cloud-pool of Sengshun. Several times he crossed the Stone Bridge and repeatedly descended to the Southern Gate, passing the time and lingering on, not yet having chosen a site for his dwelling. Once he spent the night at the Stone Bridge and saw three people in black headcloths and crimson robes. An old monk led them forward and said: "If the Dhyāna Master wishes to build a temple, at the foot of the mountain are the foundations of the Crown Prince's Temple; we offer them to supply your needs." [The Master] therefore asked: "Even a thatch hut is difficult in such times as today; when will it be possible to complete this temple?" The old monk replied: "Now is not the time. When the three kingdoms become one, a person of great power will be able to raise this temple. If the temple is completed, the country will be peaceful (qing); it should be called Guoqing Temple." At that time, the three states stood like a tripod and their carriages and books were not yet unified; though he received this mysterious prophecy, it lay far off in the indefinite future. How could he speak of it? For the time being he turned back and came out of the valley; seeing the southern peak of Folong, where the landscape to the left and right embraced and shone in utmost beauty, he lingered there, taking an interest. There was Dhyāna Master Dingguang, who had lived on the mountain for thirty years; his tracks were obscure, his comprehension of the Way was clear, and though easily approached he was hard to understand. Many of his advance prophecies had proved remarkably accurate. That night, [Zhiyi] lodged in Dingguang's thatch hermitage. All heard the sound of bells and sounding-stones ringing out clearly through the mountain valley, beginning faint and growing distinct, rising and ceasing in perfect cadence. He asked Dingguang about the intervals between these sounds; Dingguang danced with his hands, chanted aloud, and said: "Just listen to the striking of the mallet gathering the monks—this is the sign that you may dwell here! Do you remember when someone beckoned with their hand and led you along?" None of the others understood his words. Thereupon, on the northern peak where Dingguang lived, he founded a monastery: planting pine trees to nest in, and diverting a stream to circle the stone steps. Looking out over the temple's site, it was entirely identical to his former dream without the slightest discrepancy. North of the temple was an isolated peak called Huading. Ascending to gaze from it, one saw no other mountains, and its heat and cold were forever different from other places. The former master left the assembly to go there alone to practice dhūta. Suddenly, late in the night, a great wind uprooted the trees, and thunder shook the mountain. Demonic spirits came in a thousand throngs, in a single form with a hundred shapes: some with dragons and vipers atop their heads; some spewing sparks of fire from their mouths; shaped like black clouds, sounding like thunderclaps, changing instantaneously in ways beyond reckoning. What is depicted in paintings of the transformation of the subjugation of Māra was mere child's play; these terrifying apparitions surpassed them. Yet he was able to settle his mind, utterly still, empty, and quiet, and the oppressive sights naturally dissolved away. Next they took the shapes of his parents, teachers, and fellow monks, at times leaning against him, at times embracing him, sobbing with grief and shedding tears. But he deeply contemplated the true reality [of all dharmas] and thoroughly realised original nothingness, so the sights of distress and suffering immediately vanished once more. Neither fierce nor soft conditions could move him. When the morning star appeared, a divine monk manifested and said: "Only one who conquers enemies and overcomes adversaries can be called valiant; in enduring this trial, none can equal you." Having thus comforted him, he further preached the Dharma for him. The words of this Dharma discourse could be grasped by the mind but cannot be recorded in writing; right as they were spoken, each phrase brought immediate clarity—parting the clouds to gaze upon the sun or drinking spring water do not suffice as metaphors. Zhiyi immediately asked: "Great Sage, what Dharma-gate is this? How should it be learned? How should it be proclaimed?" The reply was: "This is called the One Truth of Reality. Learn it with wisdom (prajñā); proclaim it with great compassion. From this day forward, whether for yourself or to help others, I will follow you like a shadow and an echo." His dhūta practice having ended, he returned to Folong. The wind, mist, mountains, and waters outside were enough to make him forget all cares; the wonderful wisdom and deep dhyāna within filled him with joyful delight. However, Folong was rugged and blocked; no boats or carriages could reach it. The harvest failed that year, and the monks dispersed as conditions dictated. The Master, together with Huichuo, planted chicory and gathered acorns, at peace with poverty and without distress. Soon Emperor Xuan of Chen issued an edict saying: "The Dhyāna Master is a hero of the Buddha-Dharma, revered as a master of our age. His teachings embrace both the clergy and the laity; he is the hope of the state. It is fitting to allocate the taxes of Shifeng County to meet the expenses of the community, and to exempt two households of commoners to provide firewood and water." The assembly gathered again as a result, yet he felt no joy on that account. Yuan Zixiong of Chen Commandery hurried through the forests for a hundred li, and Yu Chong of Xinye, who had collected three tax levies from the people—both men climbed the mountain, happened upon a lecture on the Vimalakīrtinirdeśa-sūtra, and thereupon observed the fast and precepts for consecutive days, listening to the Dharma with undivided mind. Xiong saw before the hall a mountain clear and transparent like vaiḍūrya, with fine gems strewn across the floor of the winding brook on the mountain's shaded side. A rainbow bridge spanned it, inlaid with precious ornaments; several dozen Indian monks, all holding incense burners in their hands, walked out from the mountain, crossed the bridge, and entered the hall, their awe-inspiring deportment filling the view and the incense smoke piercing the nostrils. Xiong told Chong about it, but Chong said he saw nothing: sitting side-by-side yet as distant as heaven—such was indeed the case here! Because of this, Xiong resolved to rebuild the lecture hall; this event was not long ago, and the hall still exists today. However, the base of Tiantai borders the vast sea, and the common people make their living by fishing: those who set fish-weirs block the creeks, and those who make [submerged fishing pens] sink them in the sea. When the autumn waters swell once, fish great and small pack the weirs; at the morning and evening tides, fish clamour in agony throughout the [pens], their skulls piling up into mounds, flies and maggots buzzing like thunder. Not only was this pitiable for the creatures of water and land, but he also grieved for the boatmen who perished needlessly. For this reason the former master aroused the universal compassion of the Great Vehicle, gave away his own robes,