宋高僧傳 20
English (machine translation) 20
- Language
- English
20.1
Compiled under Imperial Order by Śramaṇa Zanning and others, Grand Master Tonghui and Recipient of the Purple Robe, of Tianhsou Temple on the Left Street of the Song
20.2
Section Six on Supernatural Resonance, Part Three (twenty-two principal biographies, four attached biographies)
20.3
Biography of Chuji of the Shanbei Araṇya in Zizhou of the Tang
20.4
Shi Chuji, whose secular surname was Zhou, was a native of Shu. He served Chan Master Baoxiu as his teacher, was diligent in his service and had few desires, contending with nothing in the world. Being thoroughly conversant with the profound and arcane, he resided at Shanbei and practiced the dhūta austerities. The Heavenly Empress [Wu Zetian], having heard of him, summoned him to the imperial palace and bestowed on him a mona saṅghāṭī robe, but he took leave and begged to return to the mountain. For over forty years, his feet never set foot in a village. Sitting on a single corded chair, he remained in silent contemplation without sleeping. A tiger would often crouch below his seat just like a domestic beast. He was venerated by the people of Zizhou, and those who studied his Way gathered in flocks. For this reason, extraordinary events were quite manifest. For instance, when Grand Master Wuxiang was about to come from the kingdom of Silla to pay respects to Chan Master Shen, Ji warned the assembly in advance, saying: "A guest from abroad will be seen tomorrow. You should sprinkle and sweep to await him." On the morrow, a guest from Haedong truly arrived. In the beginning of the Kaiyuan era, the newly appointed prefect Wang Ye—who had originally been a Daoist priest and had achieved some minor merit during the Jingyun era—was appointed governor to this commandery, harboring deep malice toward the sons of Śākya. Upon taking up office, he issued instructions ordering all śramaṇas within his domain to be summoned and assembled. Only Ji had long refused to descend the mountain. Some urged Ji to go and pay his respects to avoid becoming a source of disaster. Ji said to his disciples: "Though you have gone forth from the household life, you still do not understand karma. Before I am dead, what can Wang Ye do to me?" By the third day after Lord Wang took office, the monks had all arrived. Someone said: "Only Chuji holds the regional commander in contempt and has not come to offer congratulations." Ye was slightly angered. He made all the monks bend their knees, ascended the hall and took his seat, and was about to initiate wrath by demanding the reason for Ji's disobedience and resistance. His resentful countenance flared up in fury, and the monks all trembled with fear. Suddenly Ye collapsed to the ground. His attendants supported him on both sides and helped him back to his residence; when they reached the screen wall behind the hall, a sound like a slap on the cheek was heard, and around midday his breath stopped. From then on, people said that because he had falsely intended to inflict harm upon a man of the Way, it had come to this. Ji manifested extinction in the first month of the twenty-second year of Kaiyuan, living to the age of eighty-seven. In Zizhong, he is revered to this day.
20.5
Tang Dynasty: Biography of Wuzhuo of Huayan Temple on Mount Wutai in Daizhou
20.6
Shi Wuzhuo was a native of Yongjia. His capacity and understanding were broad and luminous, and his adherence to moral integrity was firm and unyielding. Setting his mind on the Great Way and disciplining his intentions, he traveled through various regions. Reaching Yunhua Temple in the capital, he studied the teachings of Huayan under Dharma Master Chengguan. Regarding all scriptures and treatises, his ambition was to master them comprehensively, yet he vowed ultimately to roam within the ocean of the Flower Storehouse. In the second year of Dali, he entered Mount Wutai, with a great desire to behold the realm of the sagely ones. In the fifth month, he arrived at Huayan Temple and hung up his staff. When he first sipped tea in the hall, he saw an old monk, ugly in appearance, sitting on the north bench, who asked: "You have come from the south; have you brought your rosary? Please show it to me." Zhuo then personally handed it to him. In the glance of turning his head, the monk's whereabouts were lost. At that moment his spirit was in a daze, doubt and joy arising alternately, and he said: "In the past, when the monk Ming entered here, he saw a stone mortar and a wooden pestle, and later was able to enter the sagely temple and gain audience with the sages. If my wish is to abide here, how delightful it would be!" Next, from the Prajñā Sūtra Pavilion, he saw an auspicious bird whose plumage was bright and radiant, flying in a pair above his crown, which flapped its wings and flew off toward the northeast. On the next day, there were two plumes of white light that fluttered into the doorway and vanished after a short while. The monk Fadeng, who shared his room, saw it and was astonished, saying: "What auspicious omen is this? May it appear once more to cut off the doubts of sentient beings!" Soon they saw the light just as before. Zhuo thereupon went to the Diamond Cave and paid homage from afar. Just as he sat down to doze, he heard three shouts driving an ox, saying: "Drink water." An old man of ancient appearance and noble stature, wearing a coarse short tunic and hemp sandals, with a most unusual head-cloth, [appeared]. Zhuo then went forward to grasp his hand and asked, "Where do you come from?" The old man said, "I have come from outside the mountain seeking grain and supplies." "Where is your dwelling?" He said, "Seeking grain and supplies on Mount Tai." In turn, he questioned Zhuo, saying: "Why has the master come here?" He replied: "I heard there is a Diamond Cave here, so I came to rejoice [in its presence]." The old man asked, "Are you tired, Master?" He answered, "No." The old man asked, "Since you are not weary, why were you dozing?" Zhuo said, "Ordinary mortals are prone to torpor; how could that be strange?" The old man said, "If you are in torpor, Master, can you go sip brewed tea?" The old man pointed toward the northeast; a monastic compound was visible only a few paces away. The old man led the ox forward, and Zhuo followed closely behind. Arriving at the temple gate, he called "Junti" three times. A novice answered "Yes" and opened the doors; he was about fourteen or fifteen years of age, with hair hanging down to his eyebrows, wearing a coarse tunic. Leading the ox into the temple, Zhuo saw that its ground was entirely vaiḍūrya, and the halls, chambers, and verandas all shone with golden light. The splendor within was not of any human design. The old man sat on an ivory couch and pointed to a brocade cushion, inviting Zhuo to sit. The novice offered two bowls of tea, and when they had finished drinking together, he held up a tortoiseshell vessel full of clotted cream and gave one spoonful to each. When Zhuo swallowed it, it was as if he had attained realization; the chamber of his spirit became clear and open, and he awakened to past affairs. The old man asked: "Since you went forth from the household life, Master, what have you striven for and what have you contemplated?" He replied: "There was practice but no realization; as for the two vehicles, Great and Small, I merely dipped my fingers in them." The old man asked: "I wonder what kind of mind you sought when you first went forth from the household?" Zhuo said: "I sought the bodhicitta of the Great Vehicle." The old man said: "If you practice with your initial aspiration, Master, you will attain it." He also asked: "What is your age and saṅgha age?" "Thirty-one." The old man said: "With your purity and goodness, Master, when you reach the age of thirty-eight, the root of your blessings will surely be planted in this soil and flourish luxuriantly! For now, descend the mountain slowly, take good care in finding the path, and do not injure your feet. I am old and decrepit, having come from outside the mountain, and being utterly exhausted, I wish to lie down and rest." Zhuo requested: "Would it be permissible to stay for one night?" The old man said: "It is not permissible. Because you, Master, have two companions following you; if they do not see you return tonight, how can their worry come to an end? This shows that you still retain attachments." Zhuo said: "What attachment can a disciple of Gautama have? Although there are companions, I do not look back upon them with longing." He asked further: "Do you keep the three robes?" Zhuo replied: "I have kept them ever since receiving the precepts." The old man said: "This is where attachment lies." Zhuo said: "There are also sagely teachings for it. If allowed to lodge, in mind I would relinquish them. If there should be compelling circumstances, the Buddha indeed permitted it." The old man said: "If following the Small Vehicle, one may not relinquish the robes unless in dire straits. You should follow what urgent protection demands." The old man brushed his robes, shook his sleeves, and stood up; Zhuo also hastened his steps. The old man said: "Listen to my gāthā: / 'A single thought of pure mind is bodhi, / Surpassing the building of seven-jeweled stūpas numerous as the sands of the Gaṅgā. / The jeweled stūpas ultimately crumble into dust, / But a single thought of pure mind accomplishes right awakening.'" Zhuo bowed his head, listened, and focused his spirit, thanking him: "Receiving the recitation of your secret gāthā is like drinking the finest ghee. Having been permitted to enter the gate of wisdom, how could I dare forget your instructions? You, Elder, can truly be said to understand words; they are engraved upon my heart." The old man called Junti to escort the master away. When they were about to part, he patted Zhuo on the back, saying: "Go well." Zhuo bowed again from the waist and walked shoulder to shoulder with the novice. Arriving before the Diamond Cave, he asked the novice: "What monastery is this, that hangs no signboard?" The novice pointed to the Diamond Cave and asked Zhuo in turn: "What cave is that?" Zhuo said: "Transmitted through former generations, its name is Diamond Cave." The novice asked: "What words follow after 'Diamond'?" Zhuo pondered for a short while and said: "After 'Diamond' is 'Prajñā'." The novice smiled: "The one you just entered is the Prajñā Temple." Zhuo took the novice's hand, bowed, turned, and took his leave. The novice stared at Zhuo as if wishing to utter words. Zhuo said: "Can you send me off with words in place of silk sashes and jade ornaments?" The novice then uttered a gāthā to instruct him: / "Freedom from anger on the face is an offering vessel; / Freedom from anger in the mouth emits exquisite fragrance; / Freedom from anger in the mind is a precious jewel; / Freedom from defilement and taint is the truly constant." When the gāthā ended, in an instant, both the novice and the sagely temple vanished; he saw only the mountain forest, soil, and rocks. Sorrow filled his heart and he wept incessantly, sighing: "The leftover words and lingering discourses, like the dying echoes of panpipes and chimes, are still in my ears!" Looking carefully at the place where the mountain elder had stood, white clouds billowed up gently; about eight feet above the ground, they transformed into five-colored clouds and rainbow mist. Above, the Great Sage [Mañjuśrī] was mounted on a lion, surrounded by bodhisattvas. In the space of a meal, a stretch of white cloud from the east gradually concealed the bodhisattva's face, and the assembly of images vanished along with the cloud. Zhuo suddenly saw the abbot of Bodhi Temple in Fenzhou, Xiuzheng, and others—six people in all—who came together to pay homage before the cave. Suddenly they heard the mountain rocks roar and shake with a sound like a thunderclap, and the monks ran away. After a long while, all was silent and nothing could be seen. Zhuo then recounted his encounter. The six men reproached themselves for not having seen the sagely countenance; separated by only an inch yet as distant as can be, they recognized how their sinful obstructions had obscured their vision! Zhuo then lived in seclusion on this mountain until his death. During the Yuanhe era, his disciple Wenyi composed a retrospective account of him.
20.7
Tang Dynasty: Biography of Puhua of Zhending Prefecture
20.8
Shi Puhua was of unknown origin. His disposition was extraordinary, and he was largely frank and unrestrained, simple and carefree in conduct, and uninhibited in speech. He personally served Chan Master Jishen of Panshan, who gave him secret instructions and guidance; entering deeply into the inner sanctum, he was admonished to preserve and maintain it, but he acted crazy and wild. He once met Master Xuan of Linji and responded to him with a donkey's bray, at which the attendants could not help laughing. He would break into song and dance on the spot, or immediately wail in grief. When people interacted with him, he assumed a thousand changes and ten thousand postures, with no constant pattern whatsoever. One day, carrying a coffin under his arm, he paraded through the streets, going from house to house to take leave, saying: "Puhua will die tomorrow." At the time, observing him, people knew he was beyond reproach. The people of Zhao gathered and followed him out through the eastern gate of the city, but he loudly declared: "To bury today does not accord with the Book of Blue Crow." Two days later he went out through the southern gate, and the people followed him again; he said once more: "Only tomorrow will be auspicious." In this manner he went to the western and northern gates, going out and returning, until the people grew weary and their attention waned. One morning he sat in the countryside, as if entering dhyāna absorption. Authors of the Chan tradition, because his utterances anticipated awakening, classified Puhua into the category of "unattached sages," meaning he was not a regular member of the ranks.
20.9
Tang Dynasty: Biography of Dachuan (Fajiong) of Qixian Temple in Hanzhou
20.10
Śramaṇa Dachuan was a man of unknown origin. He lived in taciturn seclusion, and his moral integrity grew ever more rigorous. His monastic discipline was without breach, and he never spoke words in vain. At Xixian Temple in Hanzhou, he practiced the method of the four noble traditions (āryavaṃśa). As his austerities increased, Dachuan's joy was utterly carefree and expansive. People of Mianzhu, old and young alike, all revered him. When his end came, he was lying outside the temple. Laypeople prepared a couch and carried him back to the temple together, attending to the funeral rites. Just as the corpse was being lifted, a pair of deer suddenly led the way before it as though serving as outriders. As soon as they set foot on the threshold, the temple placard abruptly dropped to the ground, causing everyone near and far to marvel in awe. Furthermore, the mountain was miraculously numinous and did not tolerate the coarse and vulgar. There was a monk named Shencang who was neither cautious nor upright and committed many transgressions. A spirit being cast him down to the foot of the mountain some seven li away, injuring only his toe. From that time on, there was none who did not reform and observe the precepts. At the beginning of the Dali era, the North Mountain turned the color of yellow gold; atop it were multi-storied pavilions and bodhisattvas walking the path. In an instant, thousands of shapes and ten thousand forms appeared. Dachuan had long resided in this temple and was numinous in tandem with the place; his portrait was preserved for offerings, much like serving a numinous shrine. Next, Faxiong of Mincheng was a person whose origins are unknown. He practiced the dhūta austerities with hardship and diligence, inspiring and exhorting the people of Min with unbending and upright speech. He heard that within the Lianmen River of Haitan there was a giant bell. Tradition said that in the past someone had gone to Guangzhou to collect donations to cast a signal drum. When the great ship reached this place, it suddenly met wind and waves and sank. On the fifteenth day of every month, when the tide rose high and the waters receded, the bell's suspension loop (pulao) would emerge; it was large enough to allow a person to pass through the middle, with a circumference estimated at over one zhang in diameter. During the Dali era, Xiong wished to bring out this bell. He first held a great vegetarian gathering at Kaiyuan Temple to recite incantations, and sent a novice monk to the dragon palace to request the bell for the human world, so it might be struck to warn [people] at dawn and dusk. The novice monk saw the sea god, who said: "I cherish it to subdue the sea." He gave three small pearls as a pledge. At that very moment, the novice monk felt as though waking from a dream, with the pearls right in his hand.
20.11
Biography of Nanda of the Western Regions under the Tang
20.12
Śramaṇa Nanda—in Chinese translated as "Joy" (Xi)—was a person of unknown caste, clan, and country. As a person, he was eccentric and peerless, his respect and insolence unpredictable. During the Jianzhong era, he unexpectedly arrived in Min and Shu, at the time when Duke of Wei Zhang Yanshang took up his post in Chengdu. Xi said of himself: "I have attained the illusion-like samādhi (māyopama-samādhi)—I have entered water without becoming wet, cast myself into fire without being burned; I can transmute metal and stone, and my manifestations are inexhaustible." When he first entered Shu, he traveled with three young nuns. Sometimes he would get heavily drunk and sing madly, and sometimes he would gather crowds to preach the Dharma. The garrison commander deeply despised him and promptly ordered him seized. Having been captured and brought along, Xi then said: "This poor monk has merely lodged his traces in the monastic order, but I possess other wondrous arts." He then pointed to the three nuns and said: "These are all marvelous at singing and dancing." The garrison commander then came to esteem him, and kept him to set out wine and meat; at a night banquet, they drank and sang with him. They lent them tunics, trousers, combs, and hairpins, and the three nuns each applied cosmetics. Sitting in a row, they cast glances and bantered, their transcendent elegance unexcelled in the world. When they were half-drunk, Xi said to the nuns: "Can you perform a tap-dance for the attendant officer?" Thereupon they slowly stepped forward and danced facing each other, trailing silks like swirling snow and swiftly leaping to rub feet, their artistry surpassing all peers. After a long while, the music ended, but the dancing did not cease. Xi shouted at them: "Are you women mad?" Xi suddenly rose, seized the garrison commander's sword—the crowd thought it was drunken madness, and all present fled in terror. He then severed the heads of the three nuns; they all fell to the ground, and blood splashed several zhang. The garrison commander was greatly alarmed and called his attendants to bind Xi. Xi smiled and said: "Do not be hasty." He slowly picked up the three nuns, and they were only Qiong bamboo staffs; the blood was merely the wine they had been drinking earlier. Xi then sat down again to drink and feast, and had someone else cut off his own head and nail both his ears to a pillar; yet there was no blood stain. His body sat upon the mat; whenever the wine-cup made its rounds, it was poured directly into the severed neck, and his complexion also grew flushed. Meanwhile, his mouth could sing and his hands clapped to the rhythm. When the banquet dispersed, his body rose of its own accord, went to the pillar to take the head and put it back on, and there was not even a scar. From time to time he would predict people's good and bad fortunes, mostly in riddles, which were only understood after the fact. Someone in Chengdu made offerings to him. After a few days, Xi suddenly no longer wished to stay, so the host locked the gate to keep him. Xi then entered into a crack in the wall. When they pulled at him, he gradually entered further until only the corner of his kāṣāya remained, and in a moment he was gone. The next day, a painted image of a monk appeared on the wall; its form was like the color of the sun, and on subsequent days it gradually faded away. After seven days, only ink traces remained. By the eighth day, the ink traces had disappeared. Someone had already seen Xi in the territory of Pengzhou earlier on. In the end, no one knew where he went.
20.13
The appraisal says: Were Nanda's behaviors and traces heterodox or orthodox? Yet he himself claimed to have attained the illusion-like samādhi. Sharing this samādhi with King Anivartaniya, it is none other than the great concentration of all buddhas. Only by viewing illusion as illusion can one avoid demarcating realms with conceptual talk. Among the four supernatural powers, there is the supernatural power of illusion, which can transform external objects. Thus Nanda alerted and awakened the people of Yong and Shu, who mostly venerated ghost ways and immortals. Without this samādhi, one could not convert these customs that are difficult to convert.
20.14
Biography of Xuanzong of Mount Zijin in Shouzhou under the Tang
20.15
Śramaṇa Xuanzong, surnamed Wu, was a native of Yongjia. In his youth he left worldly dust, his temperament generous and forgiving. In his home commandery, at the Baoshou Cloister on Mount Yongding, he relied on Changjing as his master. After receiving the precepts, he returned to travel and study in various quarters. He reached the gate of Chan Master Cilang in Jiangling, resembling true gold being brought to the forge. Having resolved his doubts, he again shook his staff to travel elsewhere. Seeing Mount Zijin, his heart was pleased and delighted, and he remained there to practice Chan contemplation. This mountain had previously suffered from ferocious tigers, which either devoured traveling merchants or harmed woodcutters—as with those fleeing harsh government, the weeping woman was truly pitiful. From the time Zong took up residence, roaring and howling vanished without a trace, and thereafter those entering the mountain had no fear. One day, as his Chan disciples gathered around him, an old man was seen hurrying before the seat, bowing and kneeling with diligent reverence. Zong asked: "Who are you?" He replied: "I was originally a tiger, devouring sentient beings in this mountain. Because the Great Master has transformed this place, my mind has been transformed in the unseen realms; I have escaped my karmic body and have already been born in the heavenly realm. Therefore I come to give thanks." In the turn of a moment, he was nowhere to be seen. In the second year of the Dali era, having given his parting instructions to his disciples, he suddenly passed away. His worldly age was eighty-six. In the second month, he was placed in a stupa, and a stele was erected to commemorate him.
20.16
Biography of Guangfu of Mount Yangqi in Yuanzhou under the Tang
20.17
Śramaṇa Guangfu, secular surname Zheng, was a native of Nanyan. In his youth, he relied on the venerable elder of the capital's renown, Sihao, and received the Dharma instructions from him. After ascending to the precepts, he traveled through Song, Shaoshi, and the two capitals, meeting Chan Master Shenhui and profoundly clarifying the profound purport. When he reached Mount Yangqi in Yichun, he hung up his staff—there, the peaks gathered emerald green, the caves were secluded, and the sprouts of mushrooms and fungi mingled with the grasses and flowers. Fu closed his eyes all day long, spending his days eating tree nuts. From time to time, there were those wearing high caps and feathered cloaks, riding cranes and accompanied by luan birds; at first they came and went fleetingly, but later they climbed up to his hermitage and approached his knees. Wherever these immortal guests went, light clouds and thin mist would inevitably follow their steps. Attendant heavenly soldiers and mighty warriors were told to retreat far away, while they conversed and discussed with him for long periods of time. Later, when his conversion of beings through the Way was complete, he entered extinction on the fourth day of the third month in the first year of the Zhenyuan era, at the age of ninety-one.
20.18
The appraisal says: The paths of spirits and immortals are different; how could their discourses be the same? In explanation, it is said: "In the past, the Realized Man of Xiaoyou could discuss the principle of emptiness, and the spirits and immortals of Mount Fangzhu who built stupas faithfully revered the Buddha's path, only refraining from shaving their hair and dyeing their robes, and were termed 'lay bodhisattvas.' Furthermore, the various ṛṣis of the Snow Mountains who were skilled in the treatises on the five sciences and sought deliverance were likewise of this sort. However, their resembling paths must be carefully distinguished. As with the five subtle elements (tanmātra) and the five great elements (mahābhūta) among the twenty-five principles in the Western Regions, their names are identical to Buddhist dharmas. Yet what they postulate is as far apart as heaven and earth; truly they are difficult to differentiate!"
20.19
Biography of Yuanzhen of Mount Wuya in Dengzhou under the Tang
20.20
Śramaṇa Yuanzhen, surnamed Chen, was a native of Zhongshan. In his youth, he was perceptive and fond of study; he entered the school and investigated the Five Classics. Suddenly he met an itinerant śramaṇa lodging for the night; his father, who was an official in the prefectural yamen and deeply inclined toward the Way, retained the monk to make offerings to him. Zhen reverently served this monk and listened to his discourses on the Way, finding them exceedingly inspiring. He set aside the Confucian classics, opened Buddhist scriptures, abruptly bade farewell to those he loved, and went to Mount Baici to take Zhiyou as his master and receive instruction. Later, he encountered the Chan Master of Heze, obtained the Dharma, and secluded himself on Mount Wuya in Nanyang. Prior to this, the mountain had harbored many giant serpents, and the marsh caverns held poisonous dragons, which troubled the local villagers. When Zhen came to reside here, both creatures hid their traces. Once, a person of extraordinary attire and appearance came, bowed, and said: "I have been here for two hundred years. Now, moved by your unintentional transformation and your cultivation free of deliberation, our kind has received an unseen response and ascended beyond; could this be due to anything other than the Master's power?" He passed away in the sixth year of the Zhenyuan era, enjoying an age of eighty-six. His disciples enshrined his whole body in a stupa.
20.21
Biography of Dizang of Huacheng Temple on Mount Jiuhua in Chizhou under the Tang
20.22
Śramaṇa Dizang, surnamed Kim, was an offshoot of the royal house of Silla. He had a compassionate heart but a forbidding appearance, with natural acuity. Standing seven feet tall, the extraordinary bone on the crown of his head was uniquely prominent, and his strength could rival ten men. He once admonished himself, saying: "Within the realm of the Six Classics, amidst the arts of the Three Purities, only the Supreme Meaning accords with the mind." Thereupon he shaved his head, crossed the sea, abandoned his boat to proceed on foot, and raised his staff to observe the various directions. By chance he arrived at Chiyang and gazed upon Mount Jiuzi, feeling great delight in his heart. He went straight to its peak and found a place in the valley, facing the sun and broad and level. Its soil was black earth, and its springs were smooth and sweet. Nesting in crags and drawing from mountain streams, he spent his days in simplicity. Zang was once bitten by a venomous insect, yet he sat upright without wandering thoughts. Presently, a beautiful woman bowed and presented medicine, saying: "My little child was ignorant; I wish to bring forth a spring to atone for the fault." Having finished speaking, she disappeared. Looking to the left and right of his seat, water was bubbling forth; at the time, it was said that the spirit of Mount Jiuzi had brought forth a spring to provide for his use. During the Tianbao era, Li Bai traveled to this mountain and named it Jiuhua. Popular tradition holds that the mountain spirit is a woman. Its peaks are mostly veiled in clouds and mist, rarely exposing their summits. Zang had long vowed to uphold the four great divisions of scriptures. He thereupon descended the mountain to Nanling, where faithful donors copied them for him, allowing him to return to the mountain with them. At the beginning of the Zhide era, Zhuge Jie led the village elders up the heights from the foot of the mountain. Deep in the mountains there were no people; the clouds and sun were bright and clear. Living there was only Zang, solitary, closing his eyes in a stone chamber. In his room was a cauldron with a broken leg, in which white clay was mixed with a little rice, cooked, and eaten. The group of elders sighed in wonder, saying: "That the Venerable Master undergoes such ascetic practice is our fault for living down at the foot of the mountain!" Together they constructed a Chan monastery, which in no more than a few years became a great saṅghārāma. At the beginning of the Jianzhong era, Lord Zhang Yan governed this commandery; admiring Zang's lofty manner, he transferred an old temple plaque and memorialized the throne to establish it as a temple. When his native country heard of this, people crossed the sea in succession to seek him out; his followers became numerous, with no means to provide for the year. Zang then excavated rock and obtained earth; its color was blue-white, not gritty, like flour, and he offered it to feed the assembly. His assembly sought the Dharma to nourish their spirits, not relying on food to nourish life. In the south they were called the "withered assembly," and everyone revered them. Beside the Dragon Pool was a white clay ravine, from which extraction was inexhaustible. In the summer of the nineteenth year of the Zhenyuan era, he suddenly assembled the community to bid farewell, though none knew where he was going. One only heard the mountain groan and rocks fall, while the struck bell sounded raspy; he sat cross-legged and entered extinction. His worldly age was ninety-nine. His corpse sat within a casket; after three years, when it was opened to be placed in a stupa, his countenance was as if alive. When they lifted and carried it, the skeletal joints moved like shaking golden chains. They then erected a small stupa on the Southern Terrace, which was the place where Zang had sat in meditation. At that time, the summoned scholar and Omissioner of the Right Fei Guanqing recorded the events in a preface. During the Dazhong era, the monk Yingwu also chronicled his virtues.
20.23
Tang: A Biography of Shenxuan of Mount Jinhua in Wuzhou
20.24
Śramaṇa Shenxuan, whose secular surname was Liu, was a native of Jianyang. From youth he was quiet and reserved, speaking only when asked. While traveling in Wunü, he entered Kaiyuan Temple with the aspiration to renounce household life. Soon after, the prefect of the commandery entered the temple to visit his master and saw that Shenxuan possessed a clear and refined spirit. The prefect was skilled in physiognomy; he looked at him several times and said: "This youth is truly a vessel of renunciation. In the future he will receive the profound Dharma, be encircled by a assembly of a thousand, and surely surpass to the supreme fruit; he is of no ordinary disposition." Shenxuan then recited the Cundī Dhāraṇī of the Seven Buddhas without ceasing day and night. After taking the precepts, he went to a stone cave at Baijia Cliff in the northern cave of Mount Jinhua. Shenxuan took up residence there to rest, not erecting a hut, but practicing dhūta out in the open. Moreover, he had no bed or couch. Yet a spirit-being emitted purple clouds that covered him from above—gazing from afar, it rose gently like a single-pillar watchtower. The spirit-being would frequently come to inquire about the Way, clasping hands and saying to Shenxuan: "On the eastern peak of the Red Pine Cave, there are trees and springs of outstanding quality; could the master reside there?" Shenxuan went to reside there upon this request, and after several years, auspicious omens became increasingly numerous. In the second year of the Zhenyuan era, he met Chan Master Zhixian, who questioned Shenxuan, saying that in holding and reciting [spells] in this manner, demonic hindrances would inevitably arise. If he wished to extinguish demonic enmity, he had to recognize the root of his own body. Once the root of the body is realized as true, there is neither demon nor Buddha; [then] opening to enlightenment in a flash, both principle and phenomena are accomplished, and the efficacy of the divine dhāraṇī is doubled. In the eighth year of the Yuanhe era, Vice Censor-in-chief Fan Yang, learning of his virtue and looking up to him, sent an envoy bearing frankincense, woolen felt carpets, and vessels to donate to Shenxuan, who turned around and donated them all to the gathered assembly present before him. Next, Secretariat Drafter Wang Zhong invited him to Dayan Temple to confer the bodhisattva precepts upon the assembly. In the twelfth year, Meng Jian, Minister of Personnel from Pingchang, personally sent an earnest invitation from Kuaiji, but he did not go. In the eighth month, he suddenly returned to his former mountain, for reasons people could not fathom. He abruptly manifested his extinction at the age of seventy-six. His disciples built a stūpa for him. Another account says that Shenxuan lived on the north side of Mount Jinhua, where it was bitterly cold with little sunlight. The spirit-being asked him: "What does the master require?" Shenxuan replied: "Living on the shady side of the mountain, I suffer from the biting cold." The spirit said: "A trivial matter." When night fell, the rumbling sound of clamor was heard, and at dawn, they saw that a small peak had moved.
20.25
Tang: A Biography of Daoxing of Kaiyuan Temple in Lizhou
20.26
Śramaṇa Daoxing, whose surname was Yang, was a native of Guiyang. From birth, his mind was exceptionally sharp and bright, and his body was like ice and snow. At just twelve years of age, he vowed in his heart to admire the Way. He studied at the Prajñā Bodhimaṇḍa on the Southern Peak and sought instructions in Zhongling. Having silently verified the Dharma by himself, he called it the "Self-Mastery Samādhi." From then on, he wore patch-cloth robes and cattail-grass shoes merely to sustain his remaining breaths. Moving to the southwest of Liyang, he felled trees to build a room, dwelling in a single square-zhang hut, where tigers and leopards often lay submissive between his bed and couch. Later, people brought timber and materials to build a hall for him; in less than ten days, everything was fully provided. Looking closely, it was completely devoid of human beings; only then was it known that ghosts and spirits had offered timber and contributed labor. The prefect earnestly summoned him to dwell at the Kaiyuan Temple in the prefectural seat. Not long after, in the fifteenth year of the Yuanhe era, he passed away at the age of sixty-nine. They cremated his body, recovered śarīra, and erected a stūpa.
20.27
Tang: A Biography of Huaikong of Mount Anfeng in Xuzhou
20.28
Śramaṇa Huaikong, whose surname was Liang, was a native of Langzhou. In his youth he went to Guangfu Cloister on Mount Gṛdhrakūṭa in his home prefecture to shave his head and dye his garments. After receiving the precepts, he traveled through various regions out of admiration for learning, attaining a clear and fluent comprehension of Chan Master Daji's teachings. Later he went to Mount Anfeng in Pengcheng, where he hung his staff and sat in silent meditation. Within a few years, it grew into a great monastery. Once, a monk arrived flying through the air, circling the perimeter walls without ceasing. At times he stepped on lotus flowers, at times walked upon the ground; everyone beheld him. After several days, he bowed and took his leave of Huaikong, saying: "I will return in three to five years to rely upon you." Having spoken, he vanished. Huaikong passed away in the first year of the Xingyuan era at the age of eighty-eight. It was only in the second month of the first year of the Changqing era that he was relocated into a stūpa.
20.29
Tang: A Biography of Yuanguan of Huilin Temple in the Capital Luoyang
20.30
Śramaṇa Yuanguan was of unknown origin. He lived at a residence in Luoyang and was naturally unconstrained and straightforward. At times he diligently engaged in Sanskrit studies, while also taking pleasure in managing livelihoods and acquiring profits from fields and gardens, so that contemporaries called him the "Yi Dun of the Buddhist Fold." Beyond this, his actions were exceedingly extraordinary, and he was also well-versed in music. In the late Dali era, he became a bosom friend of Li Yuan. Yuan's father, Deng, had served as the Grand Defender and was killed by rebels at the end of the Tianbao era. Yuan consequently donated his family estate—which was Deng's villa—to Huilin Temple north of Luoyang city to serve as an inexhaustible common fund. He merely received one dish a day, taking his meals along with the assembly of monks. This went on for three years. Yuan was fond of ingesting herbs and drugs, and he suddenly arranged with Yuanguan to travel to the mountain caves of Qingcheng, Emei, and elsewhere in Shu to seek medicines. Yuanguan wished to travel to Chang'an via the Xie Valley road, whereas Li wished to enter the Gorges from Jingzhou; they disputed these two routes for half a year without resolving the matter. Li said: "I have already ceased serving kings and lords, and on my travels I do not wish to pass through the roads of the two capitals." Yuanguan said: "One's journey should not be stubbornly fixed; please allow me to follow your command." They then went up the Gorges from Jingzhou. When their journey reached Nanpu, they moored their boat and saw several women wearing silk ribbons and embroidered ear-ornaments, carrying jars to fetch water. Yuanguan lowered his head and wept, saying: "The reason I did not wish to pass through here was the fear of seeing this woman." Li asked: "Since coming up the Gorges, there have been many such women; why do you weep alone?" Yuanguan said: "That pregnant woman surnamed Wang is where I am to take up rebirth. More than three years have already passed and she has not yet given birth, solely because I had not arrived. Now that we have met, my life has its destination; this is what the Buddhists call cyclical transmigration. Please use a talisman and spell to cause her to give birth quickly, and delay your boat for a short while to bury me in the mountain valley. When her family bathes the newborn child, I also look forward to your visit. If he gazes at you and smiles, that is his recognizing you. Twelve years later, on the night of the mid-autumn moon, strictly outside Tianzhu Temple in Qiantang—that shall be the time to meet with you again." Li regretted this single journey, which had brought Yuanguan to this pass, and mourned him almost to the point of collapse. He called the pregnant woman and told her of the matter; the woman returned home leaping with joy. Shortly after, her kin and clan all gathered, presenting dried fish and unstrained wine as offerings at the water's edge. Li went and gave the talisman water. Yuanguan bathed himself and put on fresh clothing. As Yuanguan died, the pregnant woman gave birth. On the third day, Li went to see the newborn child; when brought into the swaddling clothes before the light, the infant indeed gave a smile. Weeping, Li told everything to the Wang family, and the Wang family gave Yuanguan a lavish burial. The next day Li turned his oars to return to Huilin Temple; upon inquiring of Yuanguan's disciples, he learned that he had already arranged his affairs before departing. Li constantly remembered the appointment at Hangzhou. When the appointed time arrived, he went to Tianzhu Mountain Temple. On that night, the moon shone bright and clear. Suddenly, beside Ge Hong's well, he heard a cowherd singing the "Bamboo Branch" song, riding an ox and tapping its horns, with two hair-buns and short robes, coming slowly before the temple—it was indeed Yuanguan. Li hurried forward and bowed, asking: "Is Master Guan well?" The boy said: "Lord Li is truly a man of faith. You and I tread different paths; be careful not to approach. Your worldly karma is not yet exhausted; only diligently cultivate without falling away, and we shall meet again." Li had no way to converse further and wept as he watched him. Yuanguan sang the "Bamboo Branch" song again and went off into the distance, his words earnest and the melody soaring, though its meaning could not be grasped. Li sighed, saying: "He is truly a monk who has attained the Way! So close yet hung far apart, the paths of the sage and the ordinary are different—how true this is!" Originally, Yuan was indignant over his father's murder in the rebel camp; at that time he was only eight years old and was captured by the band of rebels. He wandered north and south, passing from household to household for six or seven years before returning to his close relatives. Emperor Daizong heard of this and appointed him an assistant in the Henan Superior Prefecture. Yuan subsequently abstained from meat and wine, did not marry, and did not employ servants. He constantly lived at Huilin Temple, lodging in a single room and taking vegetarian meals with the monks. He previously ordered a pit to be dug in the wilds in preparation for his death, frequently going to sleep inside it. As for glory or disgrace, right or wrong, he regarded them all as entirely equal. At that time, Chief Minister Lord Li Deyu submitted a memorial recommending him, and he was appointed Grand Master for Remonstrance. By then Yuan was already over eighty years old, and he submitted an earnest remonstrance declining the post. Two years later he passed away—in the second year of the Changqing era.
20.31
Appraisal: That Yuanguan lodged in a womb before dying is something those who hear it will surely disbelieve. Why is this? Because it contravenes the various sacred teachings. Yet I have heard that nuns in Min often promise women of distinguished clans to become their children, saying, 'I will come right away.' When they pass away, some write on their thighs with vermilion, and on that very day, a child born to the family has the two red characters 'come right away' marked on its body. There are also many instances of this kind. As Zhuangzi said: 'A scholar of narrow views cannot be spoken to about the Way, for he is bound by his teachings.' Perhaps Indian heterodoxies have teachings of future Buddhas, or perhaps it was discussed in another assembly, seeing that our own school allows for this. If so, one must not stubbornly adhere only to the teachings currently in circulation. As for Guan, his realization and proof were high and profound, matching the many kinds of inconceivable phenomena in the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra; it is difficult to chase after with thought or speech even across a thousand li.
20.32
Tang: A Biography of Fazang of Five Elders Peak on Mount Lu in Jiangzhou
20.33
Śramaṇa Fazang, whose secular surname was Zhou, was a native of Nankang. In his youth he was bright and outstanding; he first researched and investigated historical records, and in the science of medicine he mastered its skill, matching the wondrous efficacy of Zhi Facun. A monk of the temple lay ill with a disease that was said to be incurable; Fazang took his pulse and prescribed medicine, and after staying two nights, the monk recovered. That monk frequently conversed with him on the profound, and from then on the aspiration to transcend the worldly sprouted within him. Having already grown up, he earnestly took leave of his parents and went to Baoji Cloister on Mount Pingtian in his home commandery to receive instruction and take the precepts under Master Yuan. Later he traveled to pay homage to Chan Master Daji, and their dialogue fit like a stone thrown into water. Free and unburdened, he went north down Mount Lu and climbed the Five Elders Peak; loving its spiritual wonder, he stayed alone in the cold forest, gathering acorns and chestnuts and scooping from mountain streams, barely sustaining his physical life, remaining there for several years. Two immortals arrived riding on clouds, conversing with him throughout the day; sometimes they stayed the night, sometimes they did not come for a month, and sometimes they arrived day after day. Other people who caught sight of them gave varying accounts. But when student monks gathered in large numbers, all traces of them vanished entirely. Another day, they bade farewell to Fazang, saying: "We are returning to our mountain; Master, please dwell in peace." Because of this, his virtue became renowned, and the donors collectively built a cloister for him. During the Baoli era, he manifested his extinction at the age of eighty-two. On the fourth day of the third month of that year, he was entered into a stūpa.
20.34
Appraisal: When Zang was in seclusion at the Five Elders Peak, why did two immortals come to converse with him all day? The answer to resolve this is: "Formerly, Liu Xiang compiled the Liexian [zhuan] and stated: 'A certain number of people appear in the Buddhist scriptures.' Moreover, among the disciples of the three perfected ones—Pei, Zhou, and Tongbo—half of each studied the Buddha's Dharma; could they not have come to inquire about the Way? This is just like the crickets responding to the grasshoppers in the Classic of Poetry."
20.35
Tang: A Biography of Jiankong of Xiangshan Temple in Luoyang
20.36
Shi Jiankong's secular surname was Qi, and he was a native of Wujun. From youth he suffered from poverty; though diligent in study, he retained little in his memory. In his prime he composed poems, few of which were ornate. He was often destitute while traveling between Wu and Chu for four or five years already. He called upon marquises and earls, but what he gained was meager. Whenever coins filled a string, illness would inevitably arise, easing only when his funds were exhausted. In the early Yuanhe era he traveled to Qiantang, which happened to be afflicted by famine, so he resolved to seek food at Tianzhu Temple. Reaching the west of Gushan Temple, he was too starved to proceed. Leaning over the flowing water, he wiped away his tears and chanted mournfully several times. Presently, an Indian monk sat down facing the stream, looked at Kong, and smiled, saying, 'Dharma Master xiucai, have you had enough of the flavor of traveling?' Kong said, 'Of the flavor of traveling, I have had enough indeed. But why such an absurd form of address as "Dharma Master"?' For before becoming a monk, Kong's style was Junfang. The Indian monk said, 'Do you not remember lecturing on the Lotus Sūtra at Tongde Temple?' Kong said, 'In this life I am already forty-five years old; I have lingered between Wu and Chu and have never stepped into Jingkou. Whence then this talk of Luoyang?' The monk said, 'You must be scorched by the fire of hunger, with no leisure to recall former affairs.' Thereupon he reached into his bag and brought out a date as large as a fist, saying, 'This is produced in my country. Those who eat it, if of superior wisdom, know past and future affairs; if of inferior wisdom, they are limited to knowing affairs of their previous life.' Kong, extremely hungry, ate the date and scooped spring water to drink. Suddenly he yawned, pillowed his head on a stone, and slept. In a moment he awoke, remembering lecturing on the scripture at Tongde Temple as though it were yesterday. Thereupon he wept even more and asked the monk, 'Where is the Venerable Zhen?' He replied, 'His single-minded dedication was insufficient, so he has once again become a monk in Shu. Now, however, he has severed conditioned grasping.' 'Where is the Worthy Shen?' He replied, 'His former vow is not yet fulfilled.' 'Where is Dharma Master Wu?' He replied, 'Do you not remember making a grand vow in jest before the stone image at Xiangshan? "If I do not realize unexcelled bodhi, I surely vow to become a valiant and noble minister." Yesterday I heard he has already become a great general. Of the five of us cloud-and-water wanderers back then, only I attained liberation, and you alone became a freezing, starving scholar.' Kong wept and said, 'For some forty years I have eaten only one meal a day, and for more than thirty years I have worn a single hemp garment, resolutely cutting off the roots of fleeting worldly affairs. How could I have expected that my blessings would be so incomplete, leaving me to suffer in hunger and cold?' The monk said, 'Because from the lion seat you expounded heterodoxies at length, causing those studying emptiness to give rise to doubt. The pearl of the precepts was once damaged, and a mutton stench still slightly lingered. If the sound is muddled, the resonance can never be pure. When the substance is stooped, the shadow is bent; the retribution is as it should be.' Kong said, 'What can be done about it?' The monk said, 'Regarding today's affairs, I have no plan. But regarding affairs of other lives, I can give you an admonition.' Thereupon he reached into his bowl bag and took out a mirror whose back and front were both limpid and clear. He said to Kong, 'If you wish to know the division between noble and base, the span of long and short life, the rise and fall of the Buddha-Dharma, and the prosperity and decline of our path, you should gaze into it.' Kong gazed into it for a long time, then thanked him, saying, 'Affairs of retribution and the principle of flourishing and withering—I have respectfully come to know them.' The monk put the mirror back into his bag, lifted it, and departed. After taking more than ten steps, he was suddenly nowhere to be found. That evening, Kong went to Lingyin Temple, received pravrajyā, and underwent upasampadā. Thereafter he traveled around famous mountains, his austere discipline becoming ever loftier. In the first year of Dahe, he went to Luoyang, where he met Liu Cheng of Hedong at Tianzhu Temple in Longmen and personally related these origins to Cheng. When Cheng heard Kong's account, finding the matters completely extraordinary, he was greatly amazed. Kong said, 'I have lived seventy-seven years in the world, with thirty-two saṅgha years, holding my bowl to beg for food; I still have nine years to remain in the world. On the day I depart the world, will the Buddha-Dharma not decline?' When Cheng questioned him, he was silent and made no answer. He then asked Cheng for brush and inkstone, wrote several lines on the north wall of the scripture repository, and departed. It read: 'One grain of sand flourishes, sands of the Ganges decline; / A hare in the snare, a hound still tearing it; / Ox and tiger cross, clashing horns and fangs; / Yet the precious sandalwood never loses its blossoms.'
First 36 of 54 passages. Read on
Linked texts (1)
- 宋高僧傳 — 贊寧, Classical Chinese