神僧傳 8.2

8.2

Śramaṇa Dizang was of the secular surname Jin and a collateral branch of the royal house of Silla. His heart was compassionate but his appearance was fierce, and his natural understanding was innate. At that time he shaved his hair and renounced household life, crossed the sea on foot, and shook his khakkhara to observe various regions. Arriving at Chiyang, he saw Mount Jiuzi and his heart took great delight in it, whereupon he went straight to its peak and dwelt there. Dizang was once stung by a poisonous creature, but sat upright without any thought. Presently, a beautiful woman bowed and presented medicine, saying, 'My young child was ignorant; I wish to bring forth a spring to make amends for the fault.' Having spoken, she vanished. Looking beside his seat, water flowed copiously. At that time, it was said that the mountain spirit of Mount Jiuzi had gushed forth a spring to supply his needs. Early in the Zhide era, there was Zhuge Jie, who led village elders from the foot of the mountain up to the heights. It was utterly remote and deserted, with only Dizang sitting alone with eyes closed in a stone chamber. In his room was a broken-legged tripod caldron, in which white clay mixed with a little rice was cooked for food. The elders sighed in astonishment, saying: 'The master practices such austerities! It is the fault of us who reside below the mountain.' Together they constructed a Chan cloister, and in not many years it became a great monastery. When his native land heard of it, they came across the sea in succession to seek him out. His disciples became numerous, and there was nothing to support them through the year. Dizang then dug the stone and obtained clay, whose color was pure white and not coarse, like flour, and ate it together with the community. The community requested the Dharma to nourish their spirits, not relying on food to sustain life. In the south they were called the 'Withered and Desiccated Assembly', and there were none who did not venerate them. By the side of the Dragon Pool was a quarry of white pipe clay, which yielded inexhaustibly. One day, he suddenly summoned the assembly to take his leave, and no one knew where he was going. They only heard rocks falling in the mountain valley and the striking of the bell sounding hoarse and faint; he sat cross-legged and passed away. His age was ninety-nine. His corpse sat inside a casket. After three years, when they opened it to place him in a stūpa, his facial features were as if alive. When they lifted and carried it, his joints sounded as if shaking a golden lock.