續高僧傳 7.20

7.20

Śramaṇa Wangming. His secular surname was Zong, and he was a native of Nanjun. His original name has almost been forgotten. His lineage wore the robes and caps [of office] for generations, being known as a prominent clan. In his youth he fled the worldly realm, forever cutting off wife and child. Humming and whistling amidst hills and ravines, he indulged his temperament in roaming at ease. Everything he relied on and measured himself by was a vivid reflection of the character of Ruan Sizong. Growing older, rich in literary talent, the men of his hometown vied to recommend him. He served Emperor Yuan of Liang, who treated him with profound courtesy. Whenever he composed new writings, the emperor mostly praised and commended them. Yet he took reverence, circumspection, benevolence, and humble tranquility as his heart's core. Whenever he leisurely attended the imperial banquets, he was bestowed extraordinary questions. When the Liang dynastic line fell into disarray, he secretly set his will on the profound gate, journeying far to lodge in Wen and Shu, shedding dust-bound encumbrances. He first turned to Dhyāna Master Dui. Dui's samādhi and prajñā were clear and bright, and his fame spread across Guan and Ye. Wangming relied upon him in the three karmas and respectfully looked up to him through the four deportments. His cultivation of the unembellished depended on meditation and recitation; the stirring of his thoughts was manifested in verse. When any students came asking of the Way, he never tired of guiding them. It happened that the Zhou clan came to hold sway over the Jing and Luo constellations, and Junior Protector and Duke of the State of Shu, Yuwen Jun, was garrisoned there. Naturally fond of worthy talents and valuing Wangming's pure virtue, he presented offerings and courtesies surpassing ordinary bounds, and Wangming's renown reached the ministerial bureaus. Later, when Prince of Qi took over the command, his veneration grew day by day. When his term of office ended, he returned to Yong and consequently compelled Wangming to return and pay audience. The Emperor's consolations and gifts were deep; Wangming was appointed Tripiṭaka Master of Xiazhou. The court officials, seeing that his literary works were remarkable and that he was originally no cloistered monk but rather someone whose hidden virtues had remained obscured from the world, intended to summon and promote him, discerning that his character possessed the capacity for statecraft. The court held a general consultation: some thought to apply authority and favor, while others thought to move him with exceptional affection. Yet Wangming was refined, upright, and eminent, and never altered his integrity. In the fifth month of the second year of Tianhe, Grand Preceptor Yuwen Hu sent him a letter saying: 'Thinking of you with deep admiration, I have long yearned for our meeting without having an opportunity to express it. Is your reverent person tranquil and well, free from worries? Verily, when the Benevolent One dwells in the world, his intention is to rescue and reform; it is not that he prioritizes rebirth or solely values such solitary goodness. Since your path is second only to innate knowledge and your talent exceeds that of seven paces, how could you have falsely donned the black robes to sink into obscurity away from worldly affairs? Yet in the vastness of the wondrous principle, the three karmas arrive at the same destination; we hope you will contemplate non-duality, for black and white are not truly opposed. Release your biased clingings and assist our current dynasty! Not only will the true and the mundane both be drawn forth, but other and self will also be unified as one. Hence I send this to inform you, hoping you will respond to my refined thoughts.' Wangming replied: 'Humbly receiving your message, I deeply comprehend your sentiments. Cold and heat differ across territories; suffering and joy are separate in their minds. I shall omit conventional pleasantries and plainly lay out the facts. This poor monk is endowed with an ugly physique, constantly plagued by sickness and troubles, bent by a hunchback into natural deference. Devoted only to the Way, I have never known rest. For fifty-two years of life, and fifteen years since relinquishing secular ties, ten thousand people have returned to the state, all lodged in the capital; yet one emaciated and sick monk is uniquely exiled to the barren borders. I have committed no crime that merits punishment, nor possess any talent that can be employed. The hundred thoughts and nine reflections remain completely incomprehensible to me.' (The text is extensive and is not recorded in full.) He also enumerated 'Six Impossibilities' and 'Ten Sighs', citing evidence and recounting events, woven consistently from beginning to end. (The letter is abridged here.) At the conclusion it states: 'A śramaṇa holds the precepts; mind and mouth must correspond. If there is a single falsehood among the six articles listed, may Heaven above abhor me while I live, and when dead, may iron pincers tear out my tongue and molten copper pour into my mouth! Bearing the three luminaries overhead, having reached sixty years of age, I do not deceive in the dark room, much less in an enlightened age! Moreover, my homeland is ruined and destroyed, my clan and kin declined and deceased. Who am I, this poor monk, to alone endure for long? If truly I may withdraw my steps into the crags, collect my mind beyond the dust, sustain my remaining life, and earnestly cultivate the karmic fruit of wisdom, this is my original aspiration. Lodging my bones in a monastery, begging food in the royal city, practicing the Way according to my strength, and converting beings according to conditions—this is my secondary wish. If not even this be granted, living solitary in hills and ravines, how could I linger long in muddled distraction in Jambudvīpa?' When Hu received the letter, realizing he was hard to sway, he sent a letter welcoming him back, saying: 'Dharma Master, your steadfast mind is ever firmer, roaming beyond the worldly bounds. When the dark tablet opened good fortune, you did not bend the integrity of Boyi; when the blue essence ruled the era, how could you cast aside your aspiration for worthy seclusion? Now I dispatch an envoy to welcome you.' When Wangming arrived in Xianyang, nobles and elites came to call upon him, offering grand courtesies and rich delicacies far exceeding the usual limits. Because his renown spread widely, making it difficult to conceal his light, he resolved to dwell in quietude behind worthy predecessors, completely carefree and unburdened. Thereupon he composed the 'Inscription of the Precious Man', which reads: 'At fifteen I favored composition; at thirty I valued power and status. Encountering the chaos and ruin of the capital, official caps and robes were submerged and vanished, and friends within the realm were nearly all scattered and gone. I then sighed and lamented: “Even with power to turn heaven and overthrow the sun, in a single morning one withers away early. Even with the solidity of Mount Tai and firm bedrock, in an instant they are reduced to ashes. One truly knows that worldly forms are impermanent, and floating life is illusory. Like the morning dew, how long can it stay? When a great man is born, he should conquer Māra; when he dies, he should feed the tiger. If one cannot do so, cultivating dhyāna is enough to nourish one’s intent, and reciting sūtras is enough to entertain oneself. Wealth, honor, fame, and praise merely weary a person in vain.” Thereupon, casting off his hairpins and caps, shaving his beard and hair, wearing patched robes and carrying a tin staff, he listened to lectures and discussed the profound. The warring states were not yet at peace, and there was no place to rest his body. Loathing his physical frame more than shackles, he longed to sever the root of suffering, yet knew not the ford. A Mahāyāna sūtra says: “One who practices as taught is called an arya; it is not merely what is spoken by mouth.” A Hīnayāna verse says: “To be able to practice and then preach is correct; if not practicing, what is there to preach? If one preaches but cannot practice, one is not called wise.” As for Yan Hui loving learning and striving to rectify previous faults, or Jilu, before putting things into practice, fearing to hear further words—their toil troubled their wisdom, wearying the spirit and harming life. For the Way, one diminishes daily; what use is abundant knowledge? Vowing to make his body like dried wood and his thoughts like dead ashes, subjugating these troubles and burdens to seek empty tranquility, he then composed an admonition on relinquishing study, titled “Praise on Pacifying the Mind”, modeled after the Zhou temple.' Its inscription reads: 'In the Dharma realm there is a Wish-Fulfilling Precious Man. Nine times he muzzles his body, and an inscription on his chest reads: “A person of ancient times who collected his mind! Beware, beware! Do not brood much; do not know much. Abundant wisdom and abundant affairs are not as good as putting thoughts to rest. Abundant thoughts and abundant errors are not as good as guarding the One. When thoughts abound, the will is scattered; when knowledge abounds, the mind is confused. A confused mind breeds vexation; a scattered will obstructs the Way. Do not say, ‘What harm is there?’—its suffering is long and enduring. Do not say, ‘What is there to fear?’—its disaster boils like a cauldron. If drops of water do not cease, the four seas will fill; if fine dust is not swept away, the Five Sacred Peaks will form. Guard against the branch by remaining at the root; though small, do not treat it lightly. Shut your seven apertures, close your six emotional faculties. Do not gaze upon forms; do not listen to sounds. Those who hear sounds become deaf; those who see forms become blind. A single literary art is a tiny midge in the sky; a single skill or ability is a lone lamp under the sun. Talents and skills of the heroic and worthy are merely foolish afflictions, discarding purity and simplicity to indulge in decadent elegance. The horse of consciousness easily gallops; the monkey of the mind is hard to subdue. Once the spirit is wearied, the body is sure to be damaged and perish. On deviant paths one is eternally lost; on muddy roads one remains stuck forever. Do not prize talent and ability—this is called dark ignorance. If the filthy and clumsy envy the clever, their virtue will not be broad. When fame is heavy and practice is meager, one's lofty height quickly collapses. Expanding when flourishing and rolling up when abased—such conduct is not constant. Internally harboring conceit, externally courting resentment and hatred. Speaking with the mouth, or writing with the hand, soliciting praise from others is utterly ugly! What the ordinary call auspicious, the sages deem a fault. Joy and delight last but a moment; grief and sorrow endure for long. Fearing shadows and fearing footprints, the more one runs, the worse it gets. Sit upright in the shade of a tree: footprints vanish and shadows sink. Hating life and dreading old age, as thoughts arise, karmic deeds are made. If conceptual thoughts are extinguished, birth and death are cut off forever. Neither dying nor being born, without form and without name: the single Way is empty and serene, the ten thousand things are equalized. What is superior, what is inferior? What is heavy, what is light? What is base, what is shameful? What is noble, what is glorious? The clear sky feels ashamed of its purity; the bright sun is abashed before its brightness. Settle upon Mount Dai, fortify that city of metal. Reverently bestow this upon the worthy and wise: this path brings advantageous perseverance.” He also composed the Treatise on the Ultimate Way, Treatise on Pure Virtue, Treatise on Relinquishing Attachments, Treatise on Dispelling Right and Wrong, Treatise on the Simile of Shadows, Treatise on Cultivating Emptiness, Treatise on Non-Killing, and others. Their writings were mostly clear and unadorned, and their words always encouraged goodness, preserving substance and casting off florid ornamentation, free from makeup and cosmetic embellishment. His collected works in ten fascicles were widely esteemed in the world. It is not known where he ended his life. He had a disciple, Sengkun, who was quiet and discerning by nature, and skilled in melodic intonation. Serving as the scripture-reading master among the Sui dynasty's Twenty-Five Assemblies, he gathered various texts, collecting excerpts from sages and worthies, and compiled various treatises into one work titled Arena of Treatises, in thirty fascicles. Unrolling and reading it once, one surveyed all the hundred schools; he was indeed a master artisan for new students. Later, at Quchi, he built Jingjue Monastery. Whenever facing the water and reflecting upon the bamboo, he observed things and composed poems, leaving several verses behind.