景德傳燈錄 17.4

17.4

洪州雲居道膺禪師幽州玉田人也。姓王氏。童丱依師稟教。二十五受具於范陽延壽寺。本師令習聲聞篇聚。乃歎曰。大丈夫豈可桎梏於律儀耶。乃去詣翠微山問道。經三載有雲遊僧自豫章來。盛稱洞山价禪師法席。師遂造焉。洞山問曰闍梨名什麼。曰道膺。洞山云。向上更道。師云。向上道即不名道膺。洞山曰。與吾在雲巖時秖對無異也。後師問。如何是祖師意。洞山曰。闍梨他後有一把茅蓋頭。忽有人問闍梨如何秖對。曰道膺罪過。洞山有時謂師曰。吾聞思大和尚生倭國作王虛實。曰若是思大佛亦不作。況乎國王。洞山然之。一日洞山問。什麼處去來。師曰。蹋山來。洞山曰。阿那箇山堪住。曰阿那箇山不堪住。洞山曰。恁麼即國內總被闍梨占却也。曰不然。洞山曰。恁麼即子得箇入路。曰無路。洞山曰。若無路爭得與老僧相見。曰若有路即與和尚隔生去也。洞山曰。此子已後千人萬人把不住。師隨洞山渡水。洞山問水深淺。曰不濕。洞山曰。麁人。曰請師道。洞山曰。不乾。洞山謂師曰。昔南泉問講彌勒下生經僧曰。彌勒什麼時下生。曰見在天宮當來下生。南泉曰。天上無彌勒地下無彌勒。師隨舉而問曰。只如天上無彌勒地下無彌勒。未審誰與安字。洞山直得禪床震動乃曰。膺闍梨。師合醬次洞山問。作什麼。師曰。合醬。洞山曰。用多少鹽。曰旋入。洞山曰。作何滋味。師曰得。洞山問。大闡提人殺父害母出佛身血破和合僧。如是種種孝養何在。師曰。始得孝養。自爾洞山許之為室中領袖。初止三峯其化未廣。後開雲居山四眾臻萃。一日上堂。因舉古人云。地獄未是苦。向此衣服下不明大事失却。最苦。師乃謂眾曰。汝等既在遮箇行。流十分去。九不較多也。更著些力便是上坐不屈平生。行脚不孤負叢林。古人道。欲得保任此事。須向高高山頂立深深水底行。方有些子氣力。汝若大事未辦。且須履踐玄途。問如何是沙門所重。師曰。心識不到處。問佛與祖有何階級。師曰。俱是階級。問如何是西來意。師曰。古路不逢人。可觀上座問。的罷標指請師速接。師曰。即今作麼生。觀曰。道即不無莫領話好。師曰。何必闍梨問如何是口訣。師曰。近前來向汝道。僧近前曰。請師道。師曰也知也知。師擲癢和問。眾還會麼。眾曰。不會。師曰。趁雀兒也不會。問如何得不惱亂和尚。師曰與我喚處德來。僧遂去喚來。師曰。與我閉却門。問馬祖出八十八人善知識。未審和尚出多少人。師展手示之。問如何是向上人行履處。師曰。天下太平。問遊子歸家時如何。師曰。且喜歸來。曰將何奉獻。師曰。朝打三千暮打八百。師謂眾曰。如好獵狗。只解尋得有縱迹底。忽遇羚羊挂角。莫道迹氣亦不識。僧問。羚羊掛角時如何。師曰。六六三十六。又曰。會麼。僧曰。不會。師曰。不見道無蹤迹（有僧舉似趙州。趙州云。雲居師兄猶在。僧乃問。羚羊掛角時如何。趙州云。六六三十六）眾僧夜參侍者持燈來。見影在壁上有僧便問。兩箇相似時如何。師曰。一箇是影。問學人擬欲歸鄉時如何。師曰。只遮是。新羅僧問。佛陀波利見文殊。為什麼却迴去。師曰。只為不將來所以却迴去。師謂眾曰。學佛法底人如斬釘截鐵始得。時一僧出曰。便請和尚釘鐵。師曰。口裏底是什麼。僧問。承教有言。是人先世罪業應墮惡道以今世人輕賤。此意如何。師曰動即應墮惡道。靜即為人輕賤（崇壽稠答云。心外有法應墮惡道。守住自己為人輕賤）僧問。香積之飯什麼人得喫。師曰。須知得喫底人。入口也須抉出。有一僧在房內念經。師隔窓問。闍梨念者是什麼經。對曰。維摩經。師曰。不問維摩經。念者是什麼經。其僧從此得入。問孤逈峭巍巍時如何。師曰。孤逈峭巍巍。僧曰。不會。師曰。面前案山子也不會。新羅僧問。是什麼得恁麼難道。師曰。有什麼難道。曰便請和尚道。師曰。新羅新羅。問明眼人為什麼黑如漆。師曰。何怪。荊南節度使成汭遣大將入山送供。問曰。世尊有密語迦葉不覆藏。如何是世尊密語。師召曰。尚書。其人應諾。師曰。會麼。曰不會。師曰。汝若不會世尊密語。汝若會迦葉不覆藏。僧問。才生為什麼不知有。師曰。不同生。曰未生時如何。師曰。不曾滅。曰未生時在什麼處。師曰。有處不收。曰什麼人受滅。師曰。是滅不得者。師謂眾曰。汝等師僧家。發言吐氣須有來由。凡問事須識好惡。尊卑良賤信口無益。傍家到處覓相似語。所以尋常向兄弟道。莫怪不相似。恐同學太多去。第一莫將來。將來不相似。八十老人出場屋。不是小兒戲。一言參差千里萬里難為收攝。直至敲骨打髓須有來由。言語如鉗夾鉤鎖相續不斷。始得頭頭上具物物上新。可不是精得妙底事。道汝。知有底人終不取次。十度擬發言九度却休去。為什麼如此。恐怕無利益。體得底人心如臘月扇。口邊直得醭出。不是汝彊為任運如此。欲得恁麼事須是恁麼人。既是恁麼人何愁恁麼事。學佛邊事是錯用心。假饒解千經萬論。講得天華落石點頭。亦不干自己事。況乎其餘有何用處。若將有限心識。作無限中用。如將方木逗圓孔多少差訛。設使攢花簇錦。事事及得及盡一切事。亦只喚作了事人無過人。終不喚作尊貴。將知尊貴邊。著得什麼物。不見從門入者非寶。棒上不成龍知麼。師如是三十年開發玄楗。徒眾常及千五百之數。南昌周氏尤所欽風。唐天復元年秋示微疾。十二月二十八日為大眾開最後方便。敘出世始卒之意。眾皆愴然。越明年正月三日跏趺長往。今本山影堂存焉。勅諡弘覺大師。塔曰圓寂。

Chan Master Daoying of Mount Yunju in Hongzhou was a native of Yutian in Youzhou. His surname was Wang. As a young boy, he relied on a teacher to receive instructions. At twenty-five, he took full ordination at Yanshou Monastery in Fanyang. His root teacher had him study the sections and categories of the Śrāvaka [Vinaya], upon which he sighed and said, “How could a great man be fettered by disciplinary rules?” He then departed and went to Mount Cuiwei to inquire into the Way. After three years, an itinerant monk came from Yuzhang and spoke lavishly in praise of the Dharma seat of Chan Master Liangjie of Dongshan. The Master thereupon went there. Dongshan asked, “Ācārya, what is your name?” He said, “Daoying.” Dongshan said, “Speak further towards the transcendental.” The Master said, “If I speak towards the transcendental, it will not be named Daoying.” Dongshan said, “This is no different from the reply I gave when I was at Yunyan.” Later, the Master asked, “What is the intention of the ancestral master?” Dongshan said, “Ācārya, in the future when you have a bundle of thatch over your head and someone suddenly asks you, how will you reply?” He said, “Daoying is guilty of an offense.” Dongshan once said to the Master, “I hear that Upādhyāya Dasi was born in the country of Wa (Japan) to be a king; is this true or false?” He said, “If it was Dasi, he would not even become a Buddha, much less a king.” Dongshan agreed with him. One day, Dongshan asked, “Where have you come from?” The Master said, “I have come from treading the mountains.” Dongshan said, “Which mountain is fit to dwell in?” He said, “Which mountain is not fit to dwell in?” Dongshan said, “If so, then every mountain in the realm has been occupied by you, Ācārya.” He said, “Not so.” Dongshan said, “If so, then you have found an entry path.” He said, “There is no path.” Dongshan said, “If there is no path, how could you meet with this old monk?” He said, “If there were a path, I would be separated from the upādhyāya by a whole lifetime.” Dongshan said, “In the future, even a thousand or ten thousand people will not be able to hold back this fellow.” The Master followed Dongshan across a stream. Dongshan asked about the depth of the water. He said, “It does not wet.” Dongshan said, “Coarse fellow.” He said, “Please speak, Master.” Dongshan said, “It does not dry.” Dongshan said to the Master, “Formerly, Nanquan asked a monk who was lecturing on the Sūtra of Maitreya's Descent, 'When will Maitreya descend to be born?' The monk said, 'Presently he is in the heavenly palace; in the future he will descend to be born.' Nanquan said, 'In heaven there is no Maitreya; beneath the earth there is no Maitreya.'” The Master immediately brought this up and asked, “As for 'in heaven there is no Maitreya and beneath the earth there is no Maitreya', I wonder who gave him his name?” Dongshan caused his meditation seat to shake, and then said, “Ācārya Ying!” Once, while the Master was mixing soy paste, Dongshan asked, “What are you doing?” The Master said, “Mixing paste.” Dongshan said, “How much salt do you use?” He said, “I add it gradually.” Dongshan said, “What flavor does it make?” The Master said, “It is just right.” Dongshan asked, “A person of great icchantika kills his father, harms his mother, sheds the Buddha's blood, and breaks the harmony of the Saṅgha. Where is filial devotion in such various things?” The Master said, “Only then is filial devotion attained.” From then on, Dongshan acknowledged him as the leader within his chamber. At first, he stayed at Sanfeng, where his teaching was not yet widespread. Later, he opened Mount Yunju, and the four assemblies gathered like clouds. One day, he went up to the hall. He cited an ancient who said, “Hell is not yet suffering; beneath these robes, failing to clarify the great matter and losing it—that is the greatest suffering.” The Master then addressed the assembly, saying, “Since you people are walking this path, having gone nine parts out of ten is not very much more; exert a little more effort, and you will be a sthavira who has not wasted a lifetime, whose itinerant wandering has not failed the monasteries. An ancient said, 'If you wish to preserve this matter, you must stand on the highest mountain peak and walk on the deepest ocean floor.' Only then will you have a bit of strength. If your great matter is not yet accomplished, you must walk the dark and profound path.” A monk asked, “What does a śramaṇa value?” The Master said, “The place where mental cognition does not reach.” He asked, “What stages are there between the Buddhas and the patriarchs?” The Master said, “They are all stages.” He asked, “What is the meaning of [Bodhidharma's] coming from the West?” The Master said, “On the ancient road, one meets no one.” Sthavira Keguan asked, “The pointing finger has indeed been set aside; please, Master, receive me quickly.” The Master said, “What is it right now?” Guan said, “Speaking is not non-existent, but it is best not to take up words.” The Master said, “Why must you, Ācārya?” He asked, “What is the oral secret?” The Master said, “Come forward and I will tell you.” The monk stepped forward and said, “Please speak, Master.” The Master said, “I know, I know.” The Master threw down his back-scratcher and asked, “Does the assembly understand?” The assembly said, “We do not understand.” The Master said, “You cannot even understand chasing a sparrow!” A monk asked, “How can one avoid bothering the upādhyāya?” The Master said, “Call Chude here for me.” The monk then went and called him. The Master said, “Shut the door for me.” A monk asked, “Mazu produced eighty-eight kalyāṇamitras; I wonder how many the upādhyāya will produce?” The Master stretched out his hand to show him. A monk asked, “What is the conduct of a transcendental person?” The Master said, “The world is at peace.” A monk asked, “What is it like when a traveler returns home?” The Master said, “Rejoice for the time being that he has returned.” The monk said, “What should be offered to him?” The Master said, “In the morning strike three thousand blows, in the evening strike eight hundred.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “It is like a good hunting hound, which only knows how to track where there are traces. When it suddenly meets an antelope hanging by its horns, do not speak of traces—it does not even recognise its scent.” A monk asked, “What about when an antelope hangs by its horns?” The Master said, “Six times six is thirty-six.” He also said, “Do you understand?” The monk said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “Have you not heard it said: 'there are no traces'?” (A monk brought this up to Zhaozhou. Zhaozhou said, “Senior brother Yunju is still around.” The monk then asked, “What about when an antelope hangs by its horns?” Zhaozhou said, “Six times six is thirty-six.”) While the monks were in evening instruction, the attendant brought a lamp. Seeing a shadow on the wall, a monk immediately asked, “What is it like when two are similar?” The Master said, “One is a shadow.” A monk asked, “What is it like when a student intends to return to his home village?” The Master said, “It is just this.” A monk from Silla asked, “Buddh关注pāla saw Mañjuśrī; why did he return back?” The Master said, “Just because he did not bring it, he therefore returned back.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “People who study the Buddha Dharma must be like cutting through nails and cleaving iron before they can succeed.” At that time, a monk came forward and said, “I invite the upādhyāya to nail and cleave iron.” The Master said, “What is that in your mouth?” A monk asked, “It is said in the teachings: 'If this person, because of evil karma from past lives, ought to fall into the evil destinies, but by being despised by people of the present life [that karma is expiated]'—what does this mean?” The Master said, “If you stir, you ought to fall into the evil destinies; if you are still, you will be despised by people.” (Chou of Chongshou replied, “If there are dharmas outside the mind, one ought to fall into the evil destinies; if one holds fast to oneself, one will be despised by people.”) A monk asked, “Who gets to eat the food of Fragrant Accumulation?” The Master said, “One must know that even for a person who gets to eat it, when it enters the mouth, it must still be pulled out.” There was a monk who was reciting a sūtra inside his room. The Master asked through the window, “Ācārya, what sūtra are you reciting?” He replied, “The Vimalakīrti Sūtra.” The Master said, “I am not asking about the Vimalakīrti Sūtra; what is the sūtra that recites?” The monk gained entry from this. A monk asked, “What about when it is solitary, towering, steep, and lofty?” The Master said, “Solitary, towering, steep, and lofty.” The monk said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “You do not even understand the front table-mountain before you.” A monk from Silla asked, “What is it that is so hard to express?” The Master said, “What is there that is hard to express?” He said, “Then please, Upādhyāya, express it.” The Master said, “Silla! Silla!” A monk asked, “Why is a person of clear sight pitch-black as lacquer?” The Master said, “Why find it strange?” Cheng Rui, the military commissioner of Jingnan, sent a general into the mountain to present offerings, and asked, “'The World-Honoured One had a secret word; Kāśyapa did not conceal it.' What is the World-Honoured One's secret word?” The Master called out, “Minister!” The man responded. The Master said, “Do you understand?” He said, “I do not understand.” The Master said, “If you do not understand, it is the World-Honoured One's secret word; if you understand, it is Kāśyapa not concealing it.” A monk asked, “Why is it that as soon as one is born, one does not know of it?” The Master said, “Not born together.” He asked, “What about before being born?” The Master said, “Never ceased.” He asked, “Where is it before being born?” The Master said, “There is a place that does not gather it in.” He asked, “What kind of person undergoes cessation?” The Master said, “It is the one who cannot be extinguished.” The Master addressed the assembly, saying, “You monks must have grounds when you utter words and breathe out. Whenever asking about a matter, you must distinguish between good and bad, superior and inferior, fine and coarse; blabbering without restraint is of no benefit. Going everywhere from house to house searching for similar words—this is why I usually say to the brothers: do not blame it for not being similar; I fear you have too many classmates. Above all, do not bring it forward; if you bring it forward, it will not be similar. An eighty-year-old man entering the examination hall is no child's play. If a single word is awry, it will be difficult to rein in across a thousand or ten thousand miles. Right down to striking the bones and hitting the marrow, there must be grounds. Words must be like pincers and chain links continuing without interruption; only then will everything be fully present, and every single thing be fresh. Is this not a matter of the most refined and wonderful? I tell you: a person who knows of it never acts carelessly. If he intends to speak ten times, nine times he desists. Why is it so? He fears it will be of no benefit. The mind of one who has realised the substance is like a fan in the twelfth month; mold grows right out from around his mouth. It is not that you force it—it is naturally so. If you want such a matter, you must be such a person. Since you are such a person, why worry about such a matter? Studying matters on the Buddha side is a misdirection of mind. Even if one understands a thousand sūtras and ten thousand treatises, lecturing until heavenly flowers fall and rocks nod their heads, it still does not concern one's own self. How much less do the rest have any use? If you use limited mental cognition to serve an unlimited function, it is like fitting a square peg into a round hole—how great the error! Even if you gather flowers and cluster brocade, reaching every affair and exhausting all matters, you are still only called a person who has finished affairs, a person without fault; you are never called noble. You must know: in the realm of the noble, what thing can be placed? Have you not seen: 'What enters through the gate is not the family treasure'? Dragons are not made under the staff—do you understand?” In this manner, the Master unlocked the dark bolt for thirty years, and his disciples often numbered fifteen hundred. The Zhou family of Nanchang especially revered his style. In the autumn of the first year of the Tianfu reign era of the Tang dynasty, he showed a slight illness. On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth month, he opened the final skillful means for the great assembly, recounting the intention of his going forth into the world from beginning to end. The assembly was deeply grieved. On the third day of the first month of the following year, he sat in the lotus posture and passed away forever. Today, the memorial hall on this mountain still remains. He was imperially bestowed the posthumous title of Great Master Hongjue, and his pagoda was called Yuanji (Complete Quiescence).