神僧傳 4.39

4.39

Śramaṇa Huisi, of the secular surname Li, was a native of Wujin. From youth he was renowned in his village for broad tolerance and compassionate nurture. He often dreamed of an Indian monk urging him to leave secular life; startled into awakening by this auspicious sign, he took leave of his parents to enter the Way. Repeatedly dreaming of divine monks admonishing him to observe fasting and precepts, he took only one meal a day and accepted no special offerings. When wild local people burned down the thatched hut where he stayed, he subsequently broke out in leprosy; he earnestly sought repentance, and his ailment was cured. He also dreamed of hundreds of Indian monks of magnificent and extraordinary appearance and dress. A senior monk ordered him, 'The monastic rules of the precepts you received before are not supreme; how could they open the way to the true path? Now that you have met this pure assembly, you should overturn the ordination altar and receive them again.' He requested forty-two preceptors and monks to perform the karmavācanā rite. After fully achieving it, he suddenly awakened with a start, only then realizing he had received them in a dream. He again dreamed of Maitreya, who preached the Dharma and opened his awakening; he therefore made two statues and worshipped them together. He also dreamed of following Maitreya to assemble with all his retinue at the Lotus Sūtra assembly, thinking to himself: 'I uphold the Lotus Sūtra in the age of the Final Dharma of Śākyamuni, and now meeting the Compassionate Honored One, I have opened to sudden awakening.' His diligence increased even further, and spiritual wonders multiplied. His water bottle was always full, and offerings were so strictly prepared that heavenly youths seemed to attend him. From Mount Dasu, he led over forty monks directly to the Southern Peak. Upon arrival, he said to his disciples, 'I lodge on this mountain for an agreed period of ten years; after that, I must go on a distant journey.' The master said, 'In a former life, I lived here leading disciples.' Ascending the ridge, he saw an exceptionally fine grove and spring and said, 'This is an ancient monastery. I once lived here.' Digging the earth, they indeed found monastic utensils and the foundations of halls. Pointing beneath two stones, he found skeletal remains and erected a stūpa, which is the present Stūpa of Three Lives. He also erected a terrace beside the spiritual crag on the eastern side to lecture on the Prajñā Dharma for the assembly, right in the center of the Great Peak, which is the present Prajñā Monastery. Disciples from north and south gathered like clouds. The master was troubled by the lack of water; suddenly noticing moisture beneath a crag, he struck it with his tin staff, and indeed obtained a spring, yet it was not sufficient to continue flowing. Two tigers then led the master up the ridge, clawed the ground and roared, and spring water gushed forth; this is the present Tiger Run Spring. Someone asked, 'Why do you not go down the mountain to teach and deliver sentient beings? Why do you constantly gaze at the clouds and the Milky Way?' The master replied, 'The Buddhas of the three periods have been swallowed down whole in one gulp by me; what other sentient beings remain to be delivered?' South of the Yangtze, Buddhist studies flourished in theoretical doctrines; from the time Huisi crossed south, he practiced both meditation and wisdom together, and as his teaching flourished, his name was widely known. Soon, a Daoist grew jealous and malicious, and secretly made a false accusation to the Chen ruler, claiming that the master was a northern monk holding credentials from the Qi state who had severed the heart of the sacred peak and pegged stones to raise sorcery. The emperor then sent an emissary to summon the master. When the emissary reached the stone bridge, he saw two tigers pawing the ground in fury and a large serpent blocking the path. Terrified, the emissary vowed, 'When I see Meditation Master Huisi, I shall regard him as a Buddha; if I harbor any evil thoughts, let you harm me.' The tigers and serpent then retreated. The emissary saw the master, bowed twice, and reported the matter. Before the emissary had arrived, the master had seen a small wasp come to sting his face, which was instantly bitten to death by a large hornet and carried in its mouth before the master. The master entered samādhi to observe it, knowing it was an old enmity seeking to cause harm. The master said to the emissary, 'You go first, messenger; this poor monk will follow shortly.' Seven days later, flying his staff, he reached the four gates, and the checkpoint officials memorialized simultaneously. When the master entered, the emperor was already astonished. When the master had audience at court, the emperor came down to welcome him and asked his courtiers, 'What kind of man do you see this monk to be?' They replied, 'An ordinary monk.' The emperor said, 'We saw him tread on jeweled flowers and arrive riding through the air.' He then welcomed the master into the hall and made offerings to him. For the crime of deceit, the Daoists were all to be executed. The master pleaded with the emperor, 'This is an old enmity; may Your Majesty pardon them.' The emperor granted his request and ordered the Daoists to be given to the master as servants. The master submitted a memorial taking leave to return to the mountain, and the emperor sent him off with extraordinary honors. Before long, of the Daoists who had falsely accused the master, one died suddenly and another was bitten to death by a dog, fulfilling the omen of the wasp. From then on, every year the Chen ruler sent three letters of inquiry and greeting, with unequaled glory and prosperity. Yet his spiritual wonders were difficult to fathom: he did not get wet in the rain, nor dirty when treading on mud; at times he appeared large or small, or quietly concealed his form. In the sixth month of that year, when approaching his end, he preached the Dharma for days on end, reproaching his disciples with earnest severity, making the listeners chill at heart. On the twenty-second day, he dismissed the assembly and peacefully passed away. His young disciple Lingbian wept bitterly, whereupon the master opened his eyes and said, 'Why do you disturb me? Fools run counter to the Dharma.' Having spoken, he departed forever.