宋高僧傳 10.22

10.22

釋道悟，姓張氏，婺州東陽人也。受天粹氣，為法王子，生而神俊，長而謹愿。年十四，金翅始毛，麒麟方角，啟白尊老，將求出家，慈愛之旨，不見聽許。輒損薄常膳，日唯一食，雖體腹羸餒，彌年益堅。父母不獲已而許之。遂往明州大德剃落。年二十五，依杭州竹林寺大德具戒。以勇猛力，扶牢強心，於六度門，修諸梵行。常以為療膏肓者資上妙藥，開暗冥者求善知識。不假舟檝，其濟渡乎？遂蹶然振策，投徑山國一禪師。悟禮足始畢，密受宗要。於語言處，識衣中珠。身心豁然，真妄皆遣。斷諸疑滯，無畏自在，直見佛性，中無緇磷。服勤五載，隨亦印可，俾其法雨潤諸叢林。悟蓄力向晦，罙入深阻，實冀一飛摩霄。乃轉遁於餘姚大梅山，是時大曆十一年也。層崖絕壑，天籟蕭瑟，敻無隣落。七日不食。至誠則通，物感迺靈，猱㹶豰玃，更饋橡栗。異日野夫操斧，言伐其楚，偶所遭覩，駭動悚息，馳諭朋曹，謂為神奇。曾不旬朔，詣者成市。憑嵌倚峭，且構危棟，貲糧供具，環遶方丈。猛虎耽耽，侶出族遊，一來座側，歛折肢體，其類馴擾可知也。夫語法者無階漸，涉功者有淺深，木踰鑽而見火，鑑勤磨而照膽，理必然矣。是以掃塵累，遯巖藪，服形體，遺晝夜，精嚴不息，趣無上道，其有旨哉！如是者三四年矣。將翔雲表，慮羽毛之頹鎩；欲歸寶所，疑道塗之乖錯。故重有諮訪，會其真宗。建中初，詣鍾陵馬大師，二年秋，謁石頭上士。於戲！自徑山抵衡嶽凡三遇哲匠矣。至此即造父習御，郢人運斤，兩虛其心，相與𦝮合。白月映太陽齊照，洪河注大海一味，仲尼謂顏子亞聖，然燈與釋迦授記，根果成熟，名稱普聞，如須彌山特立大海。繇是近佛，恢張勝因，凡諸國土，緣會則答。始卜於澧陽，次居于澋口，終棲于當陽柴紫山，即五百羅漢翱翔地也。檉松蓊欝以含風，崕巘巉巖而造天，駕瀲灩之紫霞，枕清冷之玉泉。鸞鳳不集於蓬藋，至人必宅於勢勝，誠如是也。洪鐘待叩，童蒙求我，川流星聚，虛往實歸。或接武於林樾，或駢肩於廬舍，戶外之屨，爛其室盈矣。荊州雄藩也，都人士女動億萬計，莫不擎跪稽首，嚮風作焉。崇業上首以狀于連帥而邀之，不違願力，聿來赴請。屩及於虛落，錫及於都城。白黑為之步驟，幡幢為之轇轕，生難遭想，得未曾有。彼優波鞠多者，夫何足云！有天皇寺者，據郡之左，標異他剎，號為名藍，困於人火，蕩為煨燼。僧坊主靈鑒族而謀之，以為滿人攸居，必能福我。夫荷擔大事，蔑棄小瑕。乃中宵默往，肩輿而至。二寺夕有所失，朝有所得。諍論鋒起，達于尊官。重於返復，畢安其處。江陵尹右僕射裴公，縉紳清重，擁旄統眾，風望眄睞，當時準程，驅車盛禮，問法勤至。悟神氣灑落，安詳自處，徐以軟語，為之獻酬，必中精微，洞過肯綮。又常秉貞操，不修逢迎，一無卑貴，坐而揖對。裴公訝其峻拔，徵其義趣，謂「抗俗之志當徑挺如是邪」。悟以為「是法平等，不見主客，豈効世諦，與人居而局狹邪？」裴公理冥意會，投誠歸命。既見仁者，我心則降，如熱得濯，躁憒氷散。自是禪宗之盛，無如此者！元和丁亥歲有背痛疾，命弟子先期告終，以夏四月晦奄然入滅。春秋六十，僧臘三十五。以其年八月五日葬之郡東隅，靈龕建塔，從僧禮也。悟身長七尺，神韻孤傑，手文魚躍，頂骨犀起。行在於《瓔珞》，志在於《華嚴》，度人說法，雄健猛利。其一旨云「垢淨共住，水波同體，觸境迷著，浩然忘歸。三世平等，本來清淨。一念不起，即見佛心。」其悟解超頓，為若此也。先是煙焰之末，殿宇不立，顧緇褐且虧瞻禮，密念結構，罔知權輿。禪宴之際，若值神物，自道祠舍濱江水焉。凡我疆畛，富於松梓，悉願傾倒，施僧伽藍。命工覘之，宛若符契。於是斬巨棟，幹修楹，撑崖拄壑，雲屯井構。時維秋杪，水用都涸，徒眾斂手，塊然無謀。會一夕雨至，萬株並進，晨發江滸，暮抵寺門。剞劂之際，動無乏者。其餘廊廡床案，靡非幽贊。事隣語怪，闕而不書。其感攝靈祇，皆此類也。比丘慧真、文賁等，禪子幽閑，皆入室得悟之者，或繼坐道場，或分枝化導。時太常協律符載著文頌德焉。世號天皇門風也。又唐澧州龍潭禪院釋崇信，未詳氏族。信在俗為渚宮胡餅師之子，弱齡宛異，神府寬然。昔天皇寺悟禪師隱耀藏光，人莫我測。信家居寺巷，恒日提餅笥饋悟公齋食。食畢且留一餅曰：「吾惠汝，以蔭子孫。」信一日自念曰：「餅是我持去，何以返遺我邪？莫別有旨乎？」遂拱手問焉。悟公曰：「是汝持來，復汝何咎？」信聞似有驚怪，因勸出家，便求攝受，曰：「爾昔崇福善，今信吾言。」故名之也。由是躬于井臼，供億服勤。乃問悟云：「未蒙指示心要。」悟公云：「時時相示。」信飡稟斯言，如遊子之還家，若貧人之得寶。直從荊渚乃詣澧陽龍潭棲止。因李翱尚書激揚，時乃出世。後德山鑑師出其門，宗風大盛矣。

Śramaṇa Daowu, whose lay surname was Zhang, was a native of Dongyang in Wuzhou. Having received the pure breath of heaven, he was a Dharma prince: born with a divine and extraordinary spirit, he grew up prudent and sincere. At fourteen, when the golden wings [of the garuḍa] were just sprouting feathers and the qilin had just grown its horns, he announced to his elders that he wished to leave the household life; but out of affection and love, they did not grant permission. Thereupon he reduced his ordinary diet to only a single meal a day; though his body and belly grew emaciated and starved, with the passing of a year his resolve grew all the firmer. His parents, having no choice, consented. He then went to a grand virtuous monk in Mingzhou to have his hair shaved off. At age twenty-five, he received full ordination under a grand virtuous monk of Zhulin Temple in Hangzhou. With heroic vigor, supporting a firm and stalwart mind, he cultivated all brahma-practices within the gate of the six pāramitās. He always believed that to heal a deep, fatal illness one relies on superior, marvelous medicine, and to open up darkness one seeks a good spiritual friend (kalyāṇamitra): without relying on a boat and oars, how could one cross over? He then rose vigorously, shook his staff, and turned to Chan Master Guoyi of Jingshan. As soon as Daowu had finished bowing at his feet, he secretly received the essential tenets. Through the spoken words, he recognized the jewel in the robe; body and mind opened wide, and both true and false were cast aside. Cutting off all doubts and hesitations, fearless and unconstrained, he saw directly into the Buddha-nature, without any impurity within. Serving diligently for five years, he was thereupon given the seal of transmission, so that his Dharma rain might moisten all the monasteries. Daowu accumulated power and retreated to obscurity, penetrating deep into remote and rugged terrains, truly hoping to soar in a single flight to touch the heavens. He then withdrew in seclusion to Mount Damei in Yuyao; this was in the eleventh year of the Dali era. Layered cliffs and sheer ravines, the pipes of heaven whistled mournfully, and far and wide there were no villages. For seven days he did not eat. Utmost sincerity penetrates, and when creatures respond, it is wondrous: gibbons, langurs, badgers, and apes took turns offering him acorns and chestnuts. One day, a rustic man wielding an axe came to cut brambles and brushwood; chancing to encounter him, he was shaken and held his breath in awe, rushing to tell his companions, calling it miraculous. In less than ten days to a month, those visiting became a bustling market. Leaning against clefts and clinging to steep precipices, they erected tall roofbeams, and provisions, grain, and offerings surrounded his square chamber. Fierce tigers glared greedily, wandering out in packs, but once arriving beside his seat, they withdrew and curled up their limbs; that their kind was tamed and tranquil could well be known. Now, when speaking of the Dharma there are no gradual stages, but in cultivating practice there is shallowness and depth: wood, upon being drilled, produces fire; a mirror, with diligent polishing, reveals the inner vitals. The principle is certainly thus. Therefore, he swept away worldly entanglements, retreated to rocky marshes, disciplined his body, forgot day and night, practiced with refined strictness without rest, and directed himself toward the unexcelled path—how meaningful this was! It was like this for three or four years. But when about to soar beyond the clouds, he feared his feathers might wither and shed; wishing to return to the jewel repository, he suspected his road might have gone astray. Hence he again went to consult and visit teachers, to harmonize with the true lineage. In the beginning of the Jianzhong era, he went to Grand Master Ma in Zhongling; in the autumn of the second year, he visited the Superior Man Shitou. Alas! From Jingshan to Mount Heng, he met wise masters three times in all. Arriving here, it was like Zaofu practicing charioteering, or the man of Ying wielding his axe: both emptying their minds, they joined together in seamless accord. The white moon reflecting the great sun shone with equal brilliance, and the mighty river flowing into the great ocean had a single flavor; it was like Confucius declaring Yanzi a second sage, or Dīpaṅkara bestowing a prophecy upon Śākyamuni. The root and fruit matured, and his name was heard everywhere, like Mount Sumeru standing preeminent in the great ocean. Thus approaching Buddhahood, he broadly extended superior causes; wherever lands were, whenever conditions converged, he responded. First he took up residence in Liyang, next dwelt at the mouth of the Jing River, and finally perched on Mount Chaizi in Dangyang, the very place where the five hundred arhats soared and wandered. Tamarisks and pines were lush and verdant, holding the wind; cliffs and jagged crags reached up to heaven; riding upon the shimmering purple mist, pillowed upon the clear and cold jade springs. Phoenixes do not gather in brambles, and perfected persons must dwell in superior sites; it was truly like this. The great bell awaits striking; the youthful and ignorant seek me out: streams flowed and stars converged; empty they went, and full they returned. Some walked step by step through the woods, while others stood shoulder to shoulder in the huts; the shoes outside the door filled the room in brilliance. Jingzhou was a mighty frontier commandery; the men and women of the capital numbered by hundreds of millions, and none failed to hold up their hands, kneel, and bow their heads, emulating his wind. The prior of Chongye Temple submitted a petition to the regional military governor to invite him; not defying the power of his vow, he came to answer the request. When his sandals reached the outskirts and his staff arrived at the metropolis, monks and laity rushed about for him, and banners and streamers were intertwined; generating the thought that he was rare to encounter, they attained what they had never had before. As for that Upagupta, how could he even be worth mentioning! There was Tianhuang Temple, situated to the left of the commandery, distinguished from other monasteries, renowned as a famous sanctuary; afflicted by a human fire, it had been reduced to ashes and cinders. The monastery's rector, Lingjian, consulted with his community, deeming that if a fulfilled person dwelt there, he would surely bring them blessings. Now, carrying the great burden, he disregarded minor flaws: in the middle of the night, he went quietly and carried him there on a shoulder-litter. The two monasteries had a loss in the evening and a gain in the morning; fierce disputes arose, reaching the high officials. Heavy deliberations ensued back and forth, and in the end, he was settled in his place. The Governor of Jiangling, Right Vice-Director of the Department of State Affairs Lord Pei, was a pure and dignified official of the gentry who held the military tally and led the masses; his reputation and demeanor were the standard of the time. Driving his carriage with full etiquette, he diligently inquired about the Dharma. Daowu's spiritual temperament was easy and unconstrained, dwelling in calm and leisure; slowly, with gentle words, he responded to him, unfailingly hitting upon the subtle and abstruse, piercing straight through the joints and sinews. Moreover, he always maintained upright integrity, without cultivating obsequiousness; treating the humble and noble entirely alike, he merely remained seated, bowing with folded hands to respond. Lord Pei marveled at his loftiness and examined his principles, saying, 'Should the resolve to resist the mundane be as upright and unbending as this?' Daowu considered, 'This Dharma is equal, seeing neither host nor guest; how could one emulate mundane truth, dwelling with people and becoming narrow and constricted?' Lord Pei's understanding merged implicitly with the intention; he cast away his pride and took refuge. Once having seen the benevolent one, my mind was subdued, like receiving a wash when heated, so that agitated confusion dissolved like ice. From this time, the flourishing of the Chan school was never greater than this! In the dinghai year of the Yuanhe era, he suffered an ailment of back pain. He ordered his disciples to announce his end ahead of time, and on the last day of the fourth month of summer, he quietly entered extinction. His worldly age was sixty, his saṅgha age thirty-five. On the fifth day of the eighth month of that year, he was buried at the eastern corner of the commandery; a spirit shrine and stupa were erected, in accordance with the rites of monks. Daowu's body was seven feet tall; his spiritual demeanor was solitary and outstanding; the lines of his hands showed leaping fish; the crown bone rose like a rhinoceros horn. His conduct was grounded in the Yingluo jing, and his aspiration was set on the Avataṃsaka Sūtra; in delivering people and explaining the Dharma, he was bold, vigorous, and sharp. One of his tenets said: 'Defilement and purity dwell together; water and waves share the same essence. Stirred by sensory realms, one is confused and attached, boundlessly forgetting to return. The three times are equal, originally pure. When a single thought does not arise, one immediately sees the Buddha-mind.' His awakening and insight were so transcendent and sudden as this. Before this, in the wake of the fire, the temple halls were not standing; seeing that the monastic robes lacked a place for worship, he secretly thought of construction, yet knew not how to begin. During his Chan meditation, it was as if he encountered a spirit being, who said of itself that its shrine was beside the river waters: 'All within my boundaries is rich in pine and catalpa; I wish to fell them all and give them to the saṅghārāma.' He sent workers to scout it out, and it matched like a tally. Thereupon they cut huge beams, fashioned tall pillars, braced cliffs and shored up ravines, assembling like clouds into well-ordered structures. At the time, it was the end of autumn, and the water was completely dried up; the disciples wringing their hands, despondent and without a plan. It chanced that one evening rain arrived, and ten thousand logs surged forth together, departing the riverbank in the morning and arriving at the temple gate by dusk. In the course of chiseling and carving, there was nothing lacking in their activities. As for the rest of the corridors, verandas, beds, and tables, none lacked unseen assistance. Since these matters border on speaking of the bizarre, they are omitted and not recorded. His supernatural resonance and sway over spirits were all of this kind. Bhikṣus Huizhen, Wenben, and others, Chan students of secluded calm, were all those who entered his room and attained awakening; some succeeded him at the seat of the bodhimanda, while others branched out to teach and transform. At that time, Fu Zai, Master of Harmony in the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, composed an essay praising his virtues. The world called this the Tianhuang lineage style. Furthermore, Śramaṇa Chongxin of the Longtan Chan Cloister in Lizhou under the Tang had an unknown clan and family. When in the lay world, Chongxin was the son of a sesame cake maker in Zhugong; at a tender age he was remarkably unusual, with an expansive spirit. Formerly, Chan Master Daowu of Tianhuang Temple hid his radiance and concealed his light, so that people could not fathom him. Chongxin lived in the temple lane, and every day he carried a basket of cakes to offer to Master Daowu for his midday meal. After eating, Daowu would always leave behind one cake, saying, 'I bestow this on you to shade your descendants.' One day Chongxin thought to himself, 'The cakes were brought by me; why do you send one back to give to me? Could there be another meaning?' He then clasped his hands and asked about it. Master Daowu said, 'You brought it here; what fault is there in returning it to you?' Hearing this, Chongxin seemed startled and wondered, whereupon [Daowu] urged him to leave the household life. He then asked to be accepted, and [Daowu] said, 'In the past you revered (chong) blessings and goodness; now you have faith (xin) in my words.' Therefore he named him [Chongxin]. From then on, he personally attended to the well and mortar, offering up diligent service. He then asked Daowu, saying, 'I have not yet received your instruction on the mind essential.' Master Daowu said, 'I show it to you from time to time.' Chongxin received and took in these words like a traveler returning home, or a poor man finding treasure. Direct from Jingzhu, he went to stay at Longtan in Liyang. Because Minister of the Right Li Ao inspired and promoted him, he then emerged into the world. Later, Master Jian of Deshan emerged from his gate, and the ancestral style flourished greatly.