高僧傳 11.7

11.7

Bo Sengguang, also called Tanguang, was of unknown origin. In his youth he practiced dhyāna. Early in the Yonghe era of Jin, he traveled east of the Yangtze and went to Mount Shicheng in Shan. The mountain folk all said that this place had long suffered calamities from ferocious beasts and the mountain spirit's violent rampages, so human traces had long ceased. Guang showed no fear at all; he hired men to clear the brush and advanced with staff on his back. Traveling several li inward, a violent storm suddenly arose, and a pack of tigers roared. On the southern side of the mountain, Guang saw a stone chamber and settled within it, sitting in dhyāna with palms joined as a place to lodge his spirit. When the rain ceased at dawn the next day, he entered the village to beg for food, returning inside in the evening. After three days, he dreamt of the mountain spirit appearing sometimes as a tiger and sometimes as a serpent, vying to terrify him. Guang was not frightened at all. After another three days, he again dreamt of the mountain spirit, who said he was moving to reside on Mount Hanshi in Zhang'an County, yielding the chamber to offer it to Guang. Thereafter woodcutters traveled freely, and both monastics and laity revered him. Those who delighted in dhyāna and came to study built thatched huts beside the chamber, which gradually became a monastery called Yinyue. Whenever Guang entered samādhi, he would not arise for seven days. He stayed on the mountain for fifty-three years, reaching an age of one hundred and ten. Late in the Taiyuan era of Jin, he covered his head with his robe, sat peacefully, and passed away. The assembly of monks all thought he had entered samādhi as usual. After seven days passed, wondering why he had not arisen, they went together to look: his complexion was normal, but there was no breath in his nose. Although his spirit had departed long ago, his physical body did not decay. In the second year of Xiaojian of the Song, Guo Hong was appointed magistrate of Shan, entered the mountain to pay homage, and experimentally nudged the chest with a ruyi sceptre; a sudden gust of wind arose, the robes dissolved and scattered, and only white bones remained. Hong was filled with great shame and fear; he gathered them into the chamber, piled bricks outside, plastered it over, and painted his portrait, which still exists today.