釋門自鏡錄 1.10

1.10

After the Buddha's parinirvāṇa, in the mountains of Kaśmīra, there was a holy monk named Dharmamitra. His talent and wisdom were transcendent, and he was foremost in sitting meditation. Where Mitra dwelt there was a three-tiered cave. At that time, there were two monks who, having heard of his superior fame from afar, went purposely to pay homage to him. They saw the Venerable One in tattered clothes, ugly and exposed, before a stove in the lower cave, lighting a fire for the saṃgha in order to tame his body and mind. At that time, the two monks asked, saying, 'Where is the Elder Dharmamitra?' He replied, saying, 'He is in the uppermost room of that multi-tiered cave.' They then went to seek him out. The Venerable One, by his supernatural power, suddenly returned to his original room. When the two men saw him, they both gave rise to doubt and wonder, saying, 'The Great Worthy is a holy person whose majestic name fills Jambudvīpa. For what reason do you humble yourself to light a fire for the saṃgha?' Mitra said, 'You should know now: I contemplate the suffering endured in saṃsāra over a long time. If my head and hands could be burned, I would burn them both for the saṃgha. How much less should other parts of the body, or lighting a fire, be considered difficult? I remember in the past, during five hundred lifetimes, I constantly took the body of a dog, hungry, impoverished, and destitute. Though I passed through many bodies, I only twice obtained fullness of food. First, there was a man who drank wine, became heavily drunk, and vomited by the roadside; as I roamed I came across it and obtained a single full meal. Again, I once became a dog for a poor family; the husband and wife cooked porridge and placed it in a vessel, and having an errand, stepped out briefly. Because of hunger, I put my head into the vessel to eat it, and having eaten my fill, could not pull my head out. The people came and saw it; they gave rise to great anger, and then with a sharp knife cut off my head. Reflecting on myself, I received a dog's body five hundred times; though I encountered two full meals, I lost my life. Therefore I contemplate: saṃsāra is long-lasting, revolving through the five destinies; wherever one is born, there is none who does not suffer. Hence I do not fear hard labor now; why should I refuse to light a fire for the saṃgha?'