續高僧傳 27.20

27.20

釋大志。姓顧氏。會稽山陰人。發蒙出家。師事天台智者顗禪師。顗覩其形神灑落高放物表。因名為大志。禪誦為業。苦節自專。四方名所無遠必造。而言氣清穆儀相貞嚴。故見者眄睞知非凡器。開皇十年。來遊廬岳住峯頂寺。不隷公名不豫僧伍。誦法華經。索然閑雅絕能清囀。使諸聽者忘疲。後於花山甘露峯南建靜觀道場。頭陀為業。孑爾一身不避虓虎聞有惡狩輒往投之。皆避而不噉。山粒本絕終日忘餐。或以餅果繼命而已。外覩不堪其惱。而志安之容色如故。經于七載禪業無斷。晚住此山福林寺。會大業屏除流徙隱逸。慨法陵遲一至於此。乃變服毀形。頭擐孝服。麁布為衣。在佛堂中高聲慟哭。三日三夕初不斷絕。寺僧慰喻。志曰。余歎惡業乃如此耶。要盡此形骸伸明正教耳。遂往東都上表曰。願陛下興顯三寶。當然一臂於嵩岳用報國恩。帝許之。勅設大齋。七眾通集。志不食三日。登大棚上。燒鐵赫然用烙其臂。並令焦黑。以刀截斷肉裂骨現。又烙其骨令焦黑已。布裹蠟灌下火然之。光耀巖岫。于時大眾見其行苦。皆痛心貫髓不安其足。而志雖加燒烙。詞色不變言笑如初。時誦法句。或歎佛德。為眾說法聲聲不絕。臂燒既盡。如先下棚。七日入定加坐而卒。時年四十有三。初志出家至終。結操松竹。冬夏一服無禦縑纊。布艾麁素自此為常。形極鮮白脣如丹畫。裙垂半脛足躡蒲屩。言氣爽朗調逸風雲。人或不識。怪所從來者。便捋眉告曰。余九江廬山福林寺小道人大志耳。又善屬文藻編詞明切。撰願誓文七十餘紙。意在共諸眾生為善知識也。僧為強禦難奉信者。有見此誓無不掩淚。今廬山峯頂每至暮年。諸寺見僧宿集一夜。讀其遺誓用曉道俗。合眾皆酸結矣。

Śramaṇa Dazhi, whose secular surname was Gu, was a native of Shanyin in Kuaiji. He renounced secular life in his youth, studying under Chan Master Zhiyi, the Zhizhe of Tiantai. Zhiyi saw that his disposition and mind were aloof and elevated far above mundane matters, and accordingly bestowed upon him the name Dazhi ('Great Aspiration'). Taking meditation and scriptural recitation as his daily practice, he dedicated himself strictly to ascetic discipline. Wherever there was a celebrated place across the four quarters, no matter how distant, he was certain to visit it. His voice and tone were serene and pure, his deportment upright and solemn; hence all who saw him took note and knew he was no ordinary vessel. In the tenth year of the Kaihuang reign, he traveled to Mount Lu and resided at the Peak Temple, neither enrolling in the official registers nor joining the common ranks of the saṅgha. He recited the Lotus Sūtra with a detachment and grace and an extraordinarily clear and melodious chanting that made all listeners forget their fatigue. Later, to the south of Dew Peak on Mount Hua, he established the Pure Contemplation Bodhimaṇḍa and made dhūta practice his occupation. All alone, he avoided neither roaring tigers [nor ferocious beasts]; whenever he heard of a vicious predatory animal, he would go directly to offer himself to it, but they all turned away and refused to devour him. On the mountain, grains were entirely absent; he spent the whole day forgetting to eat, sustaining his life solely on cakes and fruits. While onlookers could not endure such hardship, Zhi took it in stride, his countenance remaining unchanged. Seven years passed without any interruption in his meditational practice. In his later years he resided at Fulin Temple on this mountain. Just then, under the Daye reign, the hermits were banned and forcibly relocated; lamenting that the Dharma had declined to such an extent, he altered his attire and disfigured his appearance: on his head he wore mourning garb, and rough coarse cloth served as his robes. Standing within the Buddha hall, he wailed and wept aloud for three days and three nights without cessation. When the monks of the temple offered consoling words, Zhi said: 'I merely lament that our unwholesome karma has come to this! I must exhaust this physical frame to make the correct teaching shine forth.' He then went to the Eastern Capital and submitted a memorial saying: 'May Your Majesty cause the Three Jewels to flourish and become manifest. I shall burn one arm on Mount Song to repay the imperial debt of gratitude.' The Emperor granted his request and ordered a great vegetarian feast to be held, where the seven assemblies gathered together. Zhi fasted for three days, mounted a high platform, and used glowing, red-hot iron to brand his arm, scorching it black. He then severed it with a knife until the flesh tore open and the bone appeared. After branding the bone to make it black as well, he wrapped it in cloth, poured wax over it, and set it ablaze from below, illuminating the cliffs and mountain peaks. At that moment, seeing his severe self-mortification, the great assembly felt heart-piercing anguish down to their marrow and could not stand still. Yet, even as Zhi underwent the scorching fire, his expression and words remained unchanged, speaking and smiling just as before. At times he recited verses of the Dharma, and at times praised the virtues of the Buddha, unceasingly preaching the Dharma to the assembly. Once his arm had burned away, he climbed down from the platform as composed as before; seven days later, sitting cross-legged, he entered absorption and passed away at the age of forty-three. From his initial ordination until his end, his resolve was as steadfast as pine and bamboo; throughout winter and summer he wore only a single robe, never donning fine silks or padded garments, wearing coarse hemp and plain unadorned clothing as a regular custom. His complexion was exceedingly fair, his lips like vermilion paint, his robe fell to mid-calf, and his feet wore rushes-woven sandals. His speech was lively and bright, his bearing soaring beyond the clouds. If someone unfamiliar with him asked in wonder where he came from, he would stroke his eyebrows and declare: 'I am merely the petty śramaṇa Dazhi of Fulin Temple on Mount Lu in Jiujiang.' He was also skilled in literary composition, drafting clear and moving words. He composed a vow text of more than seventy sheets of paper, intending to be a good spiritual friend (kalyāṇamitra) along with all sentient beings. Even violent, unyielding monks who were difficult to inspire with faith could not hold back their tears upon reading this vow. Today, toward the end of every year on the peak of Mount Lu, the resident monks of various temples gather for a night to read his posthumous vow in order to admonish monks and laity alike, leaving the entire assembly moved to tears.