神僧傳 9.9

9.9

Puwen

Śramaṇa Puwen was the third son of Emperor Xizong of the Tang. He was born with auspicious omens, and his features, bearing, and temperament were pure, authentic, and as if painted. By nature, he did not eat meat or pungent plants. Xizong doted on him, but because he had no interest in managing worldly affairs, despite various attempts to divert and shape him, his mind ultimately could not be turned back. In the first year of the Zhonghe era, the world fell into chaos, and Xizong took refuge in Shu; the princes and imperial clan all fled. Puwen shaved his hair, wandered at ease, and called upon Shishuang Zhu. Zhu spoke with him and sighed in wonder, saying, 'You came borne by the power of vows, and so were born into the royal house. Now, escaping from it to follow me, you are a lotus in fire.' At night, Puwen entered the master's room and asked about the Patriarch's separate transmission. Zhu said, 'Wait until Mount An nods its head, and then I will tell you.' Through this, Puwen was awakened. After relying upon and dwelling with him for several years, he requested permission to wander widely through famous mountains. Zhu said, 'When you meet Qian, stop; when you encounter Chen, abide.' Thereupon he traveled afar, passed through Zhaowu, and arrived at Daqian. Gazing from afar at the mountain summit, dense, luxuriant, and profound, he asked the village elders, 'Is there anyone living there?' An elder said, 'There is one Chen Si who has long lived in concealment within it.' Realizing the master's words, he parted the grasses and reached the mountain. As soon as Chen Si saw him, he shared his seat and lived together with him. Thereupon [Puwen] begged vegetable seeds from Si, requesting a bushel or peck. Si said, 'How could there be a bushel or peck?' and gave him a single handful. He then entered the mountain to clear the land and plant. Later, the people at the mouth of the valley said to one another, 'The monk who entered the mountain the other day has not come out to this day; he must have been devoured by tigers.' Going to look, they saw a thatched hut and several postulants answering his orders with total obedience, while upon the layered ridges and peaks, the vegetables were already green. As it turned out, those who ploughed and planted the vegetables were spirits sent by the mountain deity, and the postulants were tigers. Sensing the master's superior virtue, Chen Si said, 'While living here, I was constantly troubled by the abundance of ferocious beasts and poisonous insects. Since you came, they have all vanished without a trace. Your moral power is beyond my reach. The karmic conditions for planting must belong to you!' Afterward, as his moral power became widely known, monks gathered like clouds, and it became a great monastery. Suddenly, an old man knelt and petitioned, saying, 'I am a dragon. My home is in this mountain, and it is my task to make rain. Because I failed in my duties, Heaven has penalized me, and I am to die. I pray you grant me relief and protection.' The master said, 'You have offended the High Sovereign; how can I exert my strength? Nevertheless, you may change your form and come.' In an instant, he transformed into a small snake. The master used his ring-staff to guide it into his pure water bottle. Before long, wind and thunder shook the seat, and the mountain peaks trembled. The master sat in serene meditation until dawn. The heavens cleared and became bright, and the snake emerged from the bottle. After a moment, it resumed the form of the old man, bowed, and thanked him, saying, 'Had it not been for the master's Dharma power, my blood and flesh would have defiled this place with rank stench. I have nothing with which to repay your virtue. If there is no water in the mountains, how can the assembly be settled? I shall supply water to sustain the master's place of practice.' Thereupon, at the deepest source of a steep valley, he scraped open a stone cavity, and a pool of spring water welled up. Though it was a mere trickle at first, it finally overflowed and formed a lake. The name 'Dragon Lake' halfway up the mountain began from this. In freezing cold it does not freeze; in severe drought it does not dry up. Its streams flow out in all four directions, irrigating several hundred qing of fields. The people of the prefecture regarded it as divine and built a shrine above it, offering sacrifices throughout the year. Nowadays, whenever the Upper Primordial Festival arrives—it being the master's birthday—the dragon invariably comes to pay homage and express gratitude, accompanied by auspicious clouds and propitious vapors. Fifteen li to the right of the monastery, there was the shrine of Governor Ouyang of the Yining era of the Sui, who is now King Fushan. Offerings at this shrine had by then lasted for over two hundred and seventy years. Its spirit was extremely numinous, bringing fortune and misfortune to this prefecture. The people revered and feared it, and offerings of slaughtered livestock were made without a single day's lapse. Seeing this, the master took pity. One day, leaning on his staff, he went to the shrine, spoke a gāthā to reveal his intent, and made a covenant with it, saying, 'Only if you can eat pure vegetarian food and maintain the precept against killing can we be neighbors.' That evening, the elders of the neighborhood dreamed that the spirit said, 'I have now received the precepts from the Chan Master and will no longer consume blood offerings. Sacrificing to me should be like offering meals to a bhikṣu, and that will suffice.' Thus blood offerings were replaced with vegetarian foods, which has been followed to this day. Spirits and humans were at peace with one another. The spirit manifested divine wonders to protect and maintain this mountain. Some say the master once competed with the spirit in spiritual power: beside the shrine was a pine tree whose massive trunk touched the sky; the master raised his hand and bent it down to brush the ground three times, but the spirit could only brush it twice, and thus submitted and followed him. One day, he gathered his disciples and said, 'I am going elsewhere. I entrust the affairs of the monastery to my two disciples, Cong and Jiao.' Then he spoke a gāthā, saying: / 'Fleeing the worldly troubles, I came to renounce household life; / The ancestral master pointed out a resting place. / Dwelling in the mountain and gathering an assembly for thirty years, / Before others, I did not wish to pass it on lightly. / Today, I explain it clearly to you all: / When I close my eyes, listen all together!' / The assembly of the temple was sorrowful and firmly pleaded that he remain in the world for the sake of the Buddhadharma. The master said, 'Do you not know the meaning of Bodhidharma's single shoe returning west, and Puhua's leaving completely shed of his body? Why do you regard me with notions of coming and going, arising and ceasing?' Afterward, striding upon a tiger at dawn, he arrived at Xinzhou to receive an offering. When he arrived there, the monks' quarters were crowded. When the meal was finished, he approached the patron to ask for another portion for his postulant. The patron, thinking the master was traveling alone, did not grant his request. [Puwen] thereupon asked for a bowl of water, sprayed it upon his staff, turned it into a tiger, mounted it high, and rode away. He went to Kaiyuan Monastery, and when the monks of Longhu Monastery went there pursuing him, he instructed them, saying, 'I will not return to the mountain; there is already Chan Master Cong.' Therefore, at Longhu there is no pagoda for the founding patriarch, but only the foundation of the Striding Tiger Hermitage, serving as evidence from antiquity to the present. There is also a portrait that the Chan Master drew of himself by looking into water, which still survives today. He was imperially bestowed the posthumous title 'Chan Master Yuangue'. Whenever prayers are offered to him, the response is like an echo. And in front of the courtyard, the cedar tree where the master sat still occasionally bears strange flowers.