大明高僧傳 6.35

6.35

Śramaṇa Xingji, self-styled Jiantang, was a son of the Yang family of that commandery. His innate knowledge developed early, and his aspirations were lofty and transcendent. His countenance and demeanor were outstanding and remarkable, and his talent overshadowed the Confucian scholars. In his youth, he abandoned wife and children to diligently study world-transcending [teachings]. He thoroughly investigated the Indian scriptures, and his ease penetrated the three vehicles. Privately wishing to depart from words and seek solely the direct pointing, he therefore admired the reputation of Master Huguo Yuan, carrying his bamboo umbrella to rely on him. At the slight touch of the tongs and hammer, he had a secret accord and realization. Thereupon he resided at Mount Wan, tilling with knives and burning with fire, living alone for seventeen years. He once had a verse that ran: “In the ground-hearth there is no fire, the traveler’s bag is empty; / Snow like willow catkins falls at year’s end. / Picking up broken hemp, I thread my ruined patched robe, / Unaware that my body is amid desolation.” He would often say: “I am not yet secure. How could I make dwelling in the mountains my joy?” One day, he happened to watch a tree being chopped down, hitting the ground with a sound. Suddenly he attained great awakening; the thing that had troubled his chest in the past melted away like ice. Before long, it coincided that an invitation came from Yuantong in Jiangzhou. He then said: “My path shall now be practiced!” and gladly took up his staff to respond to it. Ascending the seat, he spoke, saying: “Yuantong does not open an herbal pharmacy; he only sells dead cats’ heads. I wonder which one without thoughts or calculations will take a bite and have cold sweat pouring over his whole body!” None who heard this failed to roar with laughter. The monastic community praises it to this day.