續高僧傳 27.16

27.16

釋僧崖。姓牟氏。祖居涪陵。晉義熙九年。朱齡石伐蜀涪陵獽三百家。隨軍平討。因止于廣漢金淵山谷。崖即其後也。而童幼少言不雜俳戲。每遊山泉必先禮而後飲。或諦視不瞬。坐以終日。人問其故。答曰。是身可惡。我思之耳。後必燒之。及年長從戎。毅然剛正。嘗隨伴捕魚。得己分者用投諸水。謂伴曰。殺非好業。我今舉體皆現生瘡。誓斷獵矣。遂燒其獵具。時獽首領數百人。共築池塞。資以養魚。崖率家僮往彼觀望。忽有異蛇長尺許。頭尾皆赤。須臾長大乃至丈餘。圍五六尺。獽眾奔散。蛇便趣水。舉尾入雲。赤光遍野。久之乃滅。尋爾眾聚。具論前事。崖曰。此無憂也。但斷殺業。蛇不害人。又勸停池堰。眾未之許。俄而隄防決壞。時依悉禪師。施力供侍雖充驅使而言語訥澁舉動若癡。然一對一言時合大理。經留數載無所異焉。至玄冬之月。禪師患足冷。命之取火。乃將大鑪炎炭。直頓於前。禪師責之曰。癡人何煩汝許多火。乃正色答曰。須火却寒。得火嫌熱。孰是癡人。情性若斯何由得道。禪師謂曰。汝不畏熱。試將手置火中。崖即應聲將指置火中。振吒作聲。卒煙涌出。都不改容。禪師陰異之。未即行敬。又以他日。諸弟子曰。崖耐火。共推之火爐。被燒之處皆並成瘡。而忻笑自如。竟無痛色。諸弟子等具諮禪師。禪師喚來謂曰。汝於此學佛法。更莫漫作舉動或亂百姓。答曰。若不苦身焉得成道。如得出家一日便足。禪師遂度出家。自為剃髮。但覺鬢鬚易除猶如自落。禪師置刀於地。攝衣作禮曰。崖法師來。為我作師。我請為弟子。崖謙謝而已。既法衣著體。四輩尊崇歸命輸誠。無所悋惜。或有疾病之處。往到無不得除。三十年間大弘救濟。年踰七十心力尚強。以周武成元年六月。於益州城西路首。以布裹左右五指燒之。有問燒指可不痛耶。崖曰。痛由心起。心既無痛。指何所痛。時人同號以為僧崖菩薩。或有問曰。似有風疾。何不治之。答曰。身皆空耳。知何所治。又曰。根大有對。何謂為空。答曰。四大五根復何住耶。眾服其言。孝愛寺兌法師者。有大見解。承崖發迹。乃率弟子數十人往彼禮敬。解衣施之顧大眾曰。真解波若非徒口說。由是道俗通集倍加崇信。如是經日。左手指盡火次掌。骨髓沸上涌。將滅火焰。乃以右手殘指。挾竹挑之。有問其故。崖曰。緣諸眾生不能行忍。今勸不忍者忍不燒者燒耳。兼又說法勸勵。令行慈斷肉。雖煙焰俱熾以日繼夕並燒二手。眉目不動。又為四眾說法誦經。或及諸切詞要義。則頷頭微笑。時或心怠。私有言者。崖顧曰。我在山中初不識字。今聞經語。句句與心相應。何不至心靜聽。若乖此者則空燒此手。何異樵頭耶。於是大眾懍然莫不專到。其後復告眾曰。末劫輕慢心轉薄淡。見像如木頭。聞經如風過馬耳。今為寫大乘經教故燒手滅身。欲令信重佛法也。闔境士女聞者皆來遶數萬匝。崖夷然澄靜。容色不動。頻集城西大道。談論法化。初有細雨殆將霑漬。便斂心入定。即雲散月明。而燒臂掌骨五枚如殘燭燼。忽然各生並長三寸。白如珂雪。僧尼僉曰。若菩薩滅後。願奉舍利起塔供養。崖乃以口嚙新生五骨。㧋而折之。吐施大眾曰。可為塔也。至七月十四日。忽有大聲狀如地動天裂。人畜驚駭。於上空中或見犬羊龍蛇軍器等象。少時還息。人以事問崖曰。此無苦也。驚睡三昧耳。吾欲捨身。可辦供具。時孝愛寺導禪師。戒行清苦耆年大德。捨六度錫杖并及紫被贈崖。入火揵為。僧淵遠送班納。意願隨身。于時人物諠擾。施財山積。初不知二德所送物也。至明日平旦。忽告侍者法陀曰。汝往取導師錫杖紫被及納袈裟來為吾著之。便往造焚身所。于時道俗十餘萬眾擁輿而哭。崖曰。但守菩提心。義無哭也。便登高座為眾說法。時舉目視於薪𧂐。欣然獨笑。乃傾右脇而寢。都無氣息。狀若木偶。起問曰。時將欲至。仍下足白僧曰。佛法難值宜共護持。先所積柴疊以為樓。高數丈許。上作乾麻小室以油潤之。崖緩步至樓。遶旋三匝。禮拜四門便登其上。馮欄下望令念般若。有施主王撰懼曰。我若放火便燒聖人。將獲重罪。崖陰知之。告撰上樓。臂摩頂曰。汝莫憂造樓得罪。乃大福也。促令下火。皆畏之置炬著地。崖以臂挾炬。先燒西北次及西南。麻燥油濃赫然熾合。於盛火中放火設禮。比第二拜。身面焦炘。重復一禮。身踣炭上。及薪盡火滅。骨肉皆化。惟心尚存。赤而且濕。肝腸脾胃猶自相連。更以四十車柴燒之。腸胃雖卷。而心猶如本。兌法師乃命收取葬于塔下。今在寶園寺中。初未燒前。有問者曰。菩薩滅度願示瑞相。崖曰。我身可盡心不壞也。眾謂心神無形不由燒蕩。及後心存。方知先見留以一心之不朽也。然崖自生及終。頻現異相。有數十條。曾於一家將欲受戒。無何笑曰。將捨寶物生疑慮耶。眾相推問。有楊氏婦欲施銀釵。恐夫責及。因決捨之。有孝愛寺僧佛與者。偏嗜飲噉流俗落度。隨崖輿後。私發願曰。今值聖人誓斷酒肉。及返至寺見黃色人曰。汝能斷肉大好。汝若食一眾生肉。即食一切眾生肉。若又食者。即食一切父母眷屬肉矣。必欲食者當如死屍中蟲。蟲即肉也。又曰。有六時念善大好。若不能具一時亦好。如是一念其心亦好。皆能滅惡也。見其言詞真正音句和雅。將欲致問。不久而滅。於是佛與翹心精進繞塔念誦。又聞空中聲曰。汝勤持齋。願令眾生得不食身。又令餓鬼身常飽滿。觀其感被皆崖力也。初登柴樓。沙門僧育在大建昌寺門。見有火光高四五丈廣三四丈。從地而起。上衝樓邊。久久乃滅。又初焚日。州寺大德沙門寶海問曰。等是一火。何故菩薩受燒都無痛相。崖曰。眾生有相故痛耳。又曰。常云代眾生受苦。為實得不。答曰。既作心代受。何以不得。又曰。菩薩自燒。眾生罪熟各自受苦。何由可代。答曰。猶如燒手一念善根。即能滅惡。豈非代耶。時普法師又問曰。二家共諍大義。終莫之決。一云。佛智緣無相理。理是緣境。智是能緣。一云。除倒息妄即是真諦。何者為定。崖曰。佛即無相。無別異相。海法師曰。佛即無相。無相之相本無異相。若如此者。菩薩即釋迦觀音。崖曰。我是凡夫。誓入地獄。代苦眾生。願令成佛耳海曰。前佛亦有此願。何故早已成佛。答曰。前佛度一時眾生盡也。又問。藥王等聖。何故成佛。今菩薩獨未成佛。而救眾生。是則前佛殊墮。答曰。前段眾生已得藥王意。今眾生未得我意。由我始化如將落之花也。故其應對一時。皆此之類。乃謂侍者智炎曰。我滅度後。好供養病人。並難可測其本。多是諸佛聖人乘權應化。自非大心平等。何能恭敬。此是實行也。坐中疑崖非聖人者。乃的呼其人名曰。諸佛應世形無定方。或作醜陋諸疾乃至畜生下類。檀越慎之勿妄輕也。及將動火也皆覩異相。或見圓蓋覆崖。有三道人處其蓋上。或見五色光如人形像在四門者或見柴樓之上如日出形並兩諸花。大者如兩斛兜許。小者鍾乳片。五色交亂紛紛而下。接取非一。棖觸皆消。又聞大鼓磤磤深遠。久久方息。及崖滅後。郫縣人於郫江邊。見空中有油絡輿。崖在其上。身服班納黃。偏袒紫被捉錫杖。後有五六百僧。皆罩竹傘乘空西沒。又潼州靈果寺僧慧策者。承崖滅度。乃為設大齋。在故市中。於食前忽見黑雲從東南來翳日廕會。仍兩龍毛五色分明長者尺五短猶六寸。又雨諸花幡香煙滿空繽紛。大眾通見。又初收心舍利至常住寺中。皆見花叢含盛。光榮庭宇。又阿迦膩吒寺僧慧勝者。抱病在床。不見焚身。心懷悵恨。夢崖將一沙彌來。帊裹三㪶許香并檀屑。分為四聚以遶於勝。下火焚香。勝怖曰。凡夫耳。未能燒身也。崖曰。無怖用熏病耳。煨燼既盡即覺爽健。又請現瑞。答曰。我在益州詭名崖耳。真名光明遍照寶藏菩薩。勝從覺後。力倍於常。有時在於外村。為崖設會。勝自唱導曰。潼州福重。道俗見瑞。我等障厚都無所見。因即應聲。二百許人悉見天花如雪紛紛滿天映日而下。至中食竟。花形漸大如七寸盤。皆作金色。明淨耀日。四眾競接都不可得。或緣樹登高。望欲取之。皆飛上去。又成都民王僧貴者。自崖焚後舉家斷肉。後因事故將欲解素。私自評論。時屬二更。忽聞門外喚檀越聲。比至開門見一道人。語曰。慎勿食肉。言情酸切。行啼而去。從後走趁。似近而遠。忽失所在。又焚後八月中。獽人牟難當者。於就嶠山頂行獵。搦箭聲弩舉眼望鹿。忽見崖騎一青麖。獵者驚曰。汝在益州已燒身死。今那在此。崖曰。誰道許誑人耳。汝能燒身。不射獵得罪也。汝當勤力作田矣。便爾別去。又至冬間。崖兄子於溪中忽聞山谷喧動。若數萬眾。舉望見崖從以兩僧。執錫杖而行。因追及之。欲捉袈裟。崖曰。汝何勞捉我。乃指前雞猪曰。此等音聲皆有詮述。如汝等語。他人不解。餘國言音汝亦不解。人畜有殊皆有佛性。但為惡業故受此形。汝但力田莫養禽畜。言極周委。故其往往現形豫知人意。率皆此也。具如沙門忘名集。及費氏三寶錄。并益部集異記。

Shi Sengya was of the Mu surname. His ancestors lived in Fuling. In the ninth year of the Yixi reign-period of the Jin dynasty, when Zhu Lingshi campaigned against Shu, three hundred households of the Rang people from Fuling followed the army in subduing and pacifying it, subsequently settling in the valleys of Jinyuan Mountain in Guanghan. Sengya was their descendant. In his childhood he spoke little and did not engage in playful games. Whenever he visited mountain springs, he would invariably bow first before drinking. Sometimes he would gaze fixedly without blinking, remaining seated all day. When people asked the reason, he replied: 'This body is loathsome; I am merely contemplating it. Later I will surely burn it.' When he grew older, he entered military service, being resolute and upright. Once, when fishing with companions, he would cast his share into the water, telling his companions: 'Killing is not a good karma. Now sores have broken out all over my body; I vow to cease hunting.' He then burned his hunting gear. At that time, several hundred Rang chieftains jointly built a pond with a dam to raise fish. Sengya led his household servants there to watch. Suddenly there was a strange snake, about a foot long, with its head and tail entirely crimson. In a moment it grew to over a zhang in length and five to six chi in circumference. The Rang crowd fled in disorder. The snake then headed toward the water, lifted its tail into the clouds, and crimson light spread across the countryside; only after a long time did it disappear. Shortly thereafter, the crowd gathered and discussed what had happened. Sengya said: 'There is no need to worry about this. Just cease the karma of killing, and the snake will not harm people.' He also urged them to stop damming the pond, but the crowd did not agree. Shortly after, the embankments burst and collapsed. At that time he relied upon Dhyāna Master Xi, offering his labor in service. Although he performed menial chores, his speech was halting and his actions seemed dull-witted. Yet in one-on-one dialogue, his words constantly accorded with the great principles. After several years with him, nothing unusual was seen. In the depths of winter, the dhyāna master suffered from cold feet and ordered him to fetch fire. He brought a large brazier of glowing coals and placed it directly before him. The dhyāna master reproached him: 'You foolish man, why trouble me with so much fire?' Sengya replied with a solemn countenance: 'You needed fire to repel the cold, but having received fire, you complain of the heat. Who then is the foolish man? With a disposition such as this, how can one attain the Way?' The dhyāna master said to him: 'If you are not afraid of heat, try placing your hand in the fire.' Sengya immediately placed his fingers in the fire in response to his words. They crackled with sound, and smoke suddenly billowed forth, yet his expression did not change in the least. The dhyāna master inwardly deemed it extraordinary, but did not immediately pay him reverence. On another day, the disciples said, 'Sengya can withstand fire,' and together pushed him into a brazier. The burned places all formed sores, yet he smiled joyfully and with ease, without the slightest expression of pain. The disciples reported everything to the dhyāna master. The dhyāna master called him over and said: 'If you study the Buddhadharma here, do not engage in reckless actions again or agitate the common people.' Sengya replied: 'If one does not mortify the body, how can one attain the Way? If I can go forth into the monastic life (pravrajyā), even a single day would be enough.' The dhyāna master then ordained him and personally shaved his head. He only felt that his temple-hair and beard were as easy to remove as if they fell off on their own. The dhyāna master placed the razor on the ground, adjusted his robes, bowed in reverence, and said: 'Dharmabhāṇaka Sengya has arrived; be my teacher, and I request to become your disciple.' Sengya merely made polite declinations. Once the monastic robes were on his body, the four assemblies revered him, took refuge, and offered their sincerity without any parsimony. Wherever there was sickness, there was none that was not cured upon his arrival. For thirty years he broadly practiced rescue and salvation. When he was over seventy, his mental energy was still robust. In the sixth month of the first year of the Wucheng reign-period of the Northern Zhou dynasty, at the entrance to the road west of the city wall of Yizhou, he wrapped the five fingers of both hands in cloth and burned them. Someone asked: 'Does burning your fingers not hurt?' Sengya said: 'Pain arises from the mind. Since the mind feels no pain, how could the fingers hurt?' The people of the time unanimously referred to him as Sengya Bodhisattva. Someone asked: 'You seem to have an air disorder; why not treat it?' He replied: 'The body is entirely empty; what would there be to treat?' The person said further: 'The sense organs and elements are paired with objects; why say they are empty?' He replied: 'Where then do the four great elements and the five sense organs abide?' The crowd was convinced by his words. Dharmabhāṇaka Dui of Xiao'ai Temple possessed profound insight. Hearing that Sengya had revealed his remarkable origins, he led several dozen disciples there to pay homage, took off his robes to donate to him, and looked at the assembly, saying: 'This is true understanding of prajñā, not mere talk.' As a result, both monastics and laity gathered in crowds, and their reverence and faith doubled. After days had passed like this, the fingers of his left hand were consumed, and the fire reached the palm. The bone marrow boiled and bubbled up, threatening to extinguish the flames, so he used the remaining fingers of his right hand to grasp bamboo to poke and adjust the fire. Someone asked the reason. Sengya said: 'Because sentient beings cannot practice forbearance, I now urge those who cannot endure to endure, and those who do not burn to burn.' In addition, he preached the Dharma to exhort them, bidding them practice compassion and refrain from meat. Although the smoke and flames both blazed fiercely, day after night he burned both hands, his brow and eyes not moving in the least. He also preached the Dharma and recited sūtras for the four assemblies. Whenever he reached urgent phrases or essential meanings, he would nod and smile. At times when people grew weary in mind and whispered among themselves, Sengya looked back and said: 'When I was in the mountains, I was originally illiterate. Now, hearing the words of the sūtra, every phrase resonates with my mind. Why do you not listen attentively with a sincere mind? If you turn against this, then this burning of my hands is in vain—how would it differ from burning firewood?' Thereupon the great assembly felt awe-struck, and there was none who was not completely devoted. Later, he told the crowd again: 'In this final kalpa, careless and arrogant minds become shallow and indifferent; seeing an image is regarded as looking at wood, and hearing sūtras is treated like wind blowing past a horse's ear. I now burn my hands and extinguish my body for the sake of transcribing the teachings of the Mahāyāna scriptures, wishing to cause people to place faith and reverence in the Buddhadharma.' All the men and women of the region who heard about it came to circumambulate him tens of thousands of times. Sengya remained serene and tranquil, his expression unchanging. Crowds repeatedly gathered on the thoroughfare west of the city to discuss the transformation wrought by the Dharma. At first there was a fine drizzle that almost soaked them; he then collected his mind and entered meditative absorption, whereupon the clouds dispersed and the moon shone brightly. The five burned arm and palm bones were like the embers of a burnt-down candle, but suddenly each sprouted and grew three inches longer, white as mother-of-pearl and snow. The monks and nuns all said: 'When the Bodhisattva passes into extinction, we wish to offer veneration to your śarīra and erect a stūpa to make offerings.' Sengya then used his mouth to bite the five newly grown bones, snapped them off, spat them out, and gave them to the great assembly, saying: 'These may be placed in a stūpa.' On the fourteenth day of the seventh month, there was suddenly a great sound resembling an earthquake and the sky cracking open; humans and livestock were terrified. Up in the sky people saw signs of dogs, sheep, dragons, snakes, weapons, and the like, which subsided after a short while. People asked Sengya about this matter, and he said: 'There is no suffering in this; it is merely the samādhi that awakens from sleep. I intend to abandon my body; you may prepare the offering requisites.' At that time, Dhyāna Master Dao of Xiao'ai Temple, a venerable bhadanta of pure and austere discipline, donated a six-fold khakkhara and a purple quilt as gifts to Sengya for his entry into the fire at Qianwei. Sengyuan sent a patched robe from afar, desiring it to accompany his body. At that time, people and goods were clamorous, and donated wealth piled up like mountains; at first, it was not known that the two virtuous masters had sent these items. At dawn the next day, he suddenly told his attendant Fatou: 'Go fetch Master Dao's khakkhara and purple quilt, as well as the patchwork kāṣāya, and put them on me.' Then he proceeded to the site for burning his body. At that time, over a hundred thousand monastics and laity escorted his carriage, weeping. Sengya said: 'Only guard the bodhicitta; there is no righteousness in weeping.' He then climbed onto the high seat to preach the Dharma for the assembly. Occasionally lifting his eyes to look at the pyre, he smiled joyfully to himself. He then reclined on his right side and lay down, completely without breath, resembling a wooden puppet. He arose and asked, 'Is the time about to arrive?' Then he stepped down and addressed the monks: 'The Buddhadharma is difficult to encounter; we should protect and maintain it together.' The firewood that had previously been accumulated was stacked into a tower several zhang high, atop which was built a small booth of dried hemp soaked with oil. Sengya walked slowly to the tower, circumambulated it three times, bowed toward the four gates, and then climbed atop it. Leaning against the railing, he looked down and instructed them to be mindful of prajñā. A donor named Wang Zhuan said fearfully: 'If I set the fire, I will burn a holy person and incur grave guilt.' Sengya knew this inwardly, told Wang Zhuan to ascend the tower, stroked his head with his arm, and said: 'Do not worry that building the tower brings guilt; it brings great blessings.' He urged them to apply the fire, but they were all frightened and placed their torches on the ground. Sengya held a torch with his arm, first setting fire to the northwest and then to the southwest. The hemp was dry and the oil thick; the blaze burst into a fierce roar. Amidst the roaring flames, he made his bows; by the second prostration, his body and face were scorched and burnt. After one more bow, his body fell onto the burning coals. When the firewood was consumed and the fire extinguished, the bones and flesh had all melted away, but the heart remained intact, red and moist, with the liver, intestines, spleen, and stomach still linked together. They used forty more cartloads of firewood to burn it; although the intestines and stomach curled up, the heart remained just as before. Dharmabhāṇaka Dui ordered that it be collected and buried beneath a stūpa; it is now at Baoyuan Temple. Earlier, before he burned himself, an inquirer asked: 'When the Bodhisattva enters extinction, we pray you show an auspicious sign.' Sengya said: 'My body can be destroyed, but my heart will not be ruined.' The assembly thought the mind-spirit was formless and not subject to destruction by fire; only later, when the heart remained, did they realize that he had foreseen this and left behind the one heart that does not perish. Throughout his life until the end, Sengya frequently displayed extraordinary signs, numbering several dozen instances. Once, when he was about to confer the precepts at a household, he suddenly smiled and said: 'Are you about to donate a treasure, but giving rise to doubts and hesitations?' The crowd asked around, and there was a woman of the Yang family who wished to donate a silver hairpin but feared her husband's rebuke, whereupon she resolved to give it up. There was a monk of Xiao'ai Temple named Foyu who was overly fond of food and drink, living in a vulgar and undisciplined manner. Following behind Sengya's carriage, he made a private vow: 'Now that I have encountered a holy man, I vow to abstain from wine and meat.' When he returned to the temple, he saw a yellow-complexioned man who said: 'It is very good that you can abstain from meat. If you eat the meat of a single sentient being, you are eating the meat of all sentient beings. If you eat it again, you are eating the meat of all your parents and relatives. If you insist on eating meat, it should be regarded as maggots in a corpse—maggots are just meat.' He also said: 'Contemplating the good during the six periods of the day is very good. If you cannot manage all, even doing so in a single period is good. Even maintaining such a thought for a single moment is good; all can extinguish evil.' Seeing that his words were upright and true, and his tones harmonious and elegant, Foyu was about to ask questions, but the man vanished shortly after. Thereupon Foyu earnestly exerted himself in vigorous practice, circumambulating the stūpa and chanting. He also heard a voice in the sky say: 'Diligently observe the fast; vow that sentient beings obtain bodies that do not need to feed on others, and also cause the bodies of hungry ghosts to be ever filled and satisfied.' Viewing these spiritual responses, they were all due to Sengya's power. When he first climbed the firewood tower, the śramaṇa Sengyu, standing at the gate of Dajianchang Temple, saw a blazing light four to five zhang high and three to four zhang wide rise from the ground, soaring up beside the tower, only to extinguish after a long time. Furthermore, on the first day of the burning, the great bhadanta of the prefectural temple, the śramaṇa Baohai, asked: 'It is the same fire; why does the Bodhisattva show no signs of pain when burned?' Sengya said: 'Sentient beings have signs (nimitta), which is why they experience pain.' Baohai also asked: 'It is often said that one bears suffering on behalf of sentient beings; can one truly do so or not?' He replied: 'Since one generates the mind to take it on their behalf, why could one not?' Baohai asked again: 'When the Bodhisattva burns himself, sentient beings' karmic transgressions have ripened and each bears their own suffering; how can it be substituted?' Sengya replied: 'Just as in burning a hand with a single thought of wholesome roots, one can immediately extinguish evil. How is that not taking their place?' At that time, Dharmabhāṇaka Pu asked further: 'Two schools argue over the great meaning and have never resolved it. One says that the Buddha's wisdom takes the signless principle as its object; the principle is the perceived object, and wisdom is the perceiving subject. The other says that eliminating delusions and putting an end to falsehood is itself the ultimate truth. Which is definitive?' Sengya said: 'The Buddha is signlessness itself; there is no other distinct sign.' Dharmabhāṇaka Hai said: 'The Buddha is signlessness; the sign of signlessness originally has no distinct sign. If so, then the Bodhisattva is Śākyamuni and Avalokiteśvara.' Sengya said: 'I am an ordinary mortal. I vow to enter the hells to endure suffering on behalf of sentient beings, wishing only to bring them to Buddhahood.' Hai said: 'Previous Buddhas also had this vow; why did they achieve Buddhahood so early?' He replied: 'Previous Buddhas finished saving the sentient beings of their time.' Hai asked again: 'Why have sages such as Bhaiṣajyarāja achieved Buddhahood, while you, the Bodhisattva alone, have not yet achieved Buddhahood, yet still save sentient beings? If so, the previous Buddhas are significantly deficient.' Sengya replied: 'Sentient beings of the previous period already grasped Bhaiṣajyarāja's intent; sentient beings of today have not yet grasped my intent. My teaching of them is just beginning, like a flower that is about to fall.' His responses at that time were all of this nature. He then said to his attendant Zhiyan: 'After my extinction, take good care of the sick. It is difficult to fathom their origin; most are Buddhas and sages manifesting through skillful means. Unless one has a great and impartial mind, how could one show them reverence? This is true practice.' When there was someone in the gathering who doubted that Sengya was a holy man, Sengya called the person directly by name, saying: 'When the Buddhas manifest in the world, their forms have no fixed appearance; they may appear ugly, afflicted with various diseases, or even as lowly beasts. Dānapati, be cautious and do not lightly disparage them.' When the fire was about to be lit, everyone witnessed extraordinary signs: some saw a round canopy covering Sengya, with three men of the Way seated atop the canopy; some saw five-colored light resembling human figures at the four gates; some saw atop the pyre a form resembling the rising sun and rains of various flowers, the large ones like baskets of two hu, the small ones like stalactite fragments, descending in a flurry of mingled five colors. Many people tried to catch them, but upon touching them, they all dissolved. They also heard the booming of great drums, deep and resonant, which subsided only after a long time. After Sengya's extinction, the people of Pixian saw in the sky along the Pi River an oil-corded carriage with Sengya seated upon it. He wore a yellow patchwork robe, was draped with a purple quilt over one shoulder, and held a khakkhara. Behind him were five to six hundred monks, all holding bamboo parasols, soaring into the sky and disappearing toward the west. Furthermore, the monk Huice of Lingguo Temple in Tongzhou, upon hearing of Sengya's extinction, held a great feast in the old marketplace. Before the meal, they suddenly saw black clouds come from the southeast, veiling the sun and shading the assembly. Then rained down dragon bristles in five distinct colors, the long ones a foot and a half, the short ones still six inches. There also rained down various flowers and banners, and fragrant smoke filled the sky in profusion, seen by the entire assembly. When the heart-śarīra was first brought to Changzhu Temple, all saw flower bushes blossoming in full splendor, glorifying the courtyard. Furthermore, the monk Huisheng of Akaniṣṭha Temple, who was confined to bed with illness, could not witness the self-immolation and felt deep regret in his heart. He dreamt that Sengya came with a novice, carrying about three sheng of incense wrapped in cloth together with sandalwood chips, which they divided into four mounds around Huisheng, and set fire to burn the incense. Huisheng said in terror: 'I am only an ordinary mortal; I cannot burn my body!' Sengya said: 'Do not fear; this is used to fumigate away the disease.' When the cinders were extinguished, he immediately felt refreshed and healthy. He also requested an auspicious sign, and Sengya replied: 'In Yizhou, Sengya was merely my deceptive name; my true name is the Bodhisattva of Light Pervasively Illuminating the Treasury of Jewels.' When Huisheng awoke, his strength was double that of normal. At one time, a gathering was held for Sengya in an outlying village. Huisheng personally acted as the cantor, saying: 'Tongzhou has abundant blessings, so monastics and laity saw auspicious signs; our hindrances are heavy, so we have seen nothing at all.' Immediately responding to his words, about two hundred people all saw heavenly flowers falling like snow, filling the sky and reflecting against the sun as they descended. When the midday meal was finished, the shapes of the flowers grew larger, like seven-inch plates, all of a golden color, brightly illuminating the sun. The four assemblies competed to catch them, but none could be obtained; some climbed trees and mounted high places hoping to take them, but they all flew upward. Furthermore, Wang Senggui, a commoner of Chengdu, had his entire family abstain from meat after Sengya's immolation. Later, due to circumstances, they were about to resume eating meat and discussed it privately. At the second watch of the night, he suddenly heard someone outside calling for the dānapati. When he opened the door, he saw a man of the Way who said: 'Be cautious not to eat meat!' His words were poignant and earnest; he wept as he walked away. Wang ran after him, but the figure seemed close yet remained far, and suddenly disappeared. Furthermore, in the eighth month after the immolation, a Rang man named Mou Nandang was hunting on the summit of Jiujiao Mountain. Drawing an arrow to his crossbow and looking around for deer, he suddenly saw Sengya riding a blue-green roe deer. The hunter said in astonishment: 'You burned your body and died in Yizhou; how are you here now?' Sengya said: 'Who said that? It is only deceiving people! If you can burn your body, you will not shoot game and incur guilt. You should work diligently in farming.' He then departed. In winter, Sengya's nephew suddenly heard a clamor in the mountain valley while by a stream, as if from tens of thousands of people. Looking up, he saw Sengya followed by two monks, walking with a khakkhara. He chased after him and wished to grasp his kāṣāya. Sengya said: 'Why trouble yourself to grasp me?' He then pointed to the chickens and pigs ahead, saying: 'All these sounds contain expressions. Just as with your speech, others do not understand it, and you also do not understand the languages of other countries. Humans and beasts differ, yet all possess the Buddha-nature; it is only due to evil karma that they have received these forms. You should only work diligently at farming and not raise poultry or livestock.' His words were extremely detailed. Thus, his frequent manifestations and foreknowledge of people's thoughts were generally like this. The details are recorded in the collection by the Śramaṇa Wangming, Fei's Sanbao lu, and the Record of Gathered Anomalies of the Yibu Region.