續高僧傳 26.93

26.93

The appraisal states: As for singing and whistling stirring the wind and clouds, and pitches and tunings regulating cold and heat—the conjunction of things according to their nature seems as if from Heaven. How much more so the dark counsels of the spiritual path, whose principles transcend constant responses; how can they be easily conceived? Thus, when the sages bring benefit, they use expedient means of various paths, showing majesty and might to gather in living beings, and manifesting light to bestow upon things in order to reinforce initial faith. Their intention lies in awakening to the ultimate truth; once the model path is broadened, the merit of drawing beings across never falters. As for blending small and large into non-existence, equalizing self and other into a constant norm, identifying form and mind in the emptiness of nature, and putting an end to the transmigration of material forms and existences—they penetrate the unseen to manifest the source of transformation, and reach the utmost changes to attain the spirit's origin. This path reaches the profound; it is not something words can settle. Nonetheless, when teachings are spread in the world below, without these [wonders] they are hard to propagate. First one moves them with majestic authority, and afterward guides them with sounds and words; giving rise to trust step by step is the means to open their beginnings. In the decadent rivalry of the Semblance and Final ages, the Dharma borders on disintegration; the quiet flow of spiritual power and resonant communication is nearly severed. In the era of the two Shis, [Fotudeng] Cheng showed forth his fame; during the successive reigns of the two Xiao houses, Baozhi displayed his virtue. Recorded in all the archives, I dare not present them in full. In recent generations, vulgar minds among the unenlightened have mostly been shallow and lax; when recounting spiritual manifestations, they often add embellishments, but upon examining the basic sources, these tumble into wild heresy. Proverbs of monstrous prodigies rise like steam from a forest; disputes over right and wrong swarm like bees. As for Avalokiteśvara's deliverance, it is trustworthy and has proof; but the great sages' appearances in dreams are half true and half empty. In these cases, because things are personally received under particular conditions, it is difficult to avoid discrepancies between words and intended meaning; when others seek to imagine them, they depend entirely on unseen circumstances, and thus may collapse into hollow indicators. Judging from this, there are truly good grounds for caution. As for Yuantong traveling to holy monasteries or Zhaoda visiting celestial palaces—if one trusts their words, it is hard to exhaust the details. The previous biography's account of Penglai does not deviate from rustic conventions. Formerly, when Emperor Ming had spiritual resonance and first opened the basis of dark transformation, the Inner Traditions of the Dharma's Origin fully listed resonant responses of spiritual penetration: either rising into empty space to show miracles, or shooting out rays of light to cast forth omens. During the Jin, auspicious signs arrived in great abundance: Tanyi's resonance with King Aśoka, Tao Kan's meeting with Mañjuśrī—from then on, the flourishing was such that it can hardly be recounted in full. In the years when Emperor Gao of the Sui erected stupas, auspicious tokens leaped forth in confusion: spiritual light fell upon myriad things, supreme blessings relieved pestilence, heavenly flowers descended together with sweet dew, and spiritual lingzhi and auspicious deer appeared together; immortals and sages traveling the void gathered like mist to pay homage, while fish and turtles among the aquatic tribes lined up their scales to emerge and listen. The hundred-odd stupas were all endowed with unseen resonance; sovereign and ministers congratulated one another, and both clergy and laity rejoiced. Its virtue and glorious brightness could not be surpassed. And yet, during that very age and generation, rumors sometimes circulated. Popular custom ordinarily speaks of the five blessings, delighting in longevity and communicating with the divine; understanding destiny through the three fears is what the noble person fosters. When Emperor Yang cast [the image] at Gaoyang and first opened the mold, the image's uṣṇīṣa held a kingfisher topknot, and its body radiated purple gold; spiritual light reached universally, manifesting the rare marvel of five colors, and auspicious flowers filled the courtyard, unfolding the unusual traits of six hues. High and low were alike in tranquility, so much so that no praise could encompass it. An edict was issued to paint it and promulgate it far and wide to commanderies and kingdoms; by principle, they ought to have basked in this abundant favor and received boundless blessings, leaving their ancestral shrines as firm as mountains. Soon after, however, war and famine repeatedly descended, the realm fell to pieces, the dynasty lost its calendar and treasures, and he died within his own lifetime. Examining all of antiquity comprehensively, the five movements of fortune never fail to cycle; yet seeking recent reasons through subjective feeling, one is bewildered by how misfortune and good fortune depend on and lurk within each other. Again, it is like the Sacred Mother ascending to heaven, her great merit at last bearing fruit, while a wheel-turning king who built a stupa met with disaster and a calamitous end. How can this be clarified? It is surely because of the purity or shallowness of their karmic lifespans, which simply evoke the good or bad of their retribution. How could ordinary people, with their eyes and ears, plan so far ahead into the path of the three times? As for the sayings of Bu Shang and Jia Yi, or the treatises written by Ban Biao and [Ji] Kang—they merely knew to call it 'destiny' in a confused way, but could not distinguish why destiny is as it is. How does this differ from seeing silks and damasks in a hamper without knowing they come from the loom, or beholding the hundred grains in a granary without knowing they are gained through sowing and reaping? What the Confucians call 'destiny', the Buddhists call 'karma'. Destiny depends on karma, and karma depends on the mind. Because the mind's initial stirrings are uneven, the karma formed thereby is likewise without a uniform standard. Therefore, the bodhisattva who understands destiny and karma knows when retribution is ripe and makes no complaint; but ordinary people, bewildered by cause and effect, claim these are empty words without response. Thus Sima Qian lamented the failing of rewards and recompense, accumulating doubts he could not resolve; Fan Pang was bewildered by the fitness of good and evil, harboring feelings he could not explain. These all see the stream without seeking the source; they see one aspect without understanding the second. Beholding the vast teachings of the Buddhist gate, how could one sink into such nets again? Indeed, the deeds of karma are of a thousand kinds, and the evoked retributions of myriad threads. Some begin with good and end in evil, and so first flourish and later wither; some have auspicious and inauspicious mixed together, so that disaster and blessing assemble at once. In matter alone, though faces may be alike, forms differ; in mind alone, it matches a hundred transformations without fixation. Thus, an arhat may end within this life, his past karma concluding within the present existence; yet one bound by passions evokes effects from the past whose reception of retribution does not cease in the present time. Śāriputra, a master who awakened to principle, was constantly afflicted by sickness; Maudgalyāyana, an accomplished man of majestic might, was ultimately crushed in body. The Supreme Sage suffered slander at the Jeta Grove; the prince was defamed before the pure assembly; the Confucian master ran out of grain in the land of Chen; and Yao and Tang met with natural disasters in the central plains. Though the signs of the dark and the manifest may differ, the conditions of karmic destiny never fail. Thus we know that the great fortunes of Wen and Yang were past blessings ending in this life, while the stupas and images they reverently erected were present karma arising for the future. The cycles intersect and correspond, causing the ignorant to be deluded. The Sui suffered from these two mirrors—could understanding destiny really be otherwise? Furthermore, there were Fajizhe in the deep palace, who relied on spiritual incantations to dispel calamities; Huiri and Fa'an, who relied on rubbing stones to make water flow; Zhuanming crossing the immense deep; Tongda bathing in boiling water; Master Qiong bowing so that rogue elephants collapsed; and Daoying passing away while the great earth shook. Such virtues are numerous, their company manifold! Since these are called spiritual transformations, they certainly cannot be measured by conventional origins. I have set them down in these chapters merely to make known how rare it is to encounter such ranks of monks.