弘明集 6.32

6.32

My family has revered the Buddha for generations, while my maternal uncle's family served the Dao. The Dao and the Buddha reach the ultimate without duality. Tranquil and unmoving, they arrive at the root in identity; stimulated, they penetrate everywhere, producing differences when meeting with traces. It is like the music not being uniform yet not obstructing the secret of the Five Emperors, or the rituals not being inherited yet not lamenting the sages among the Three Sovereigns. How could the Three and Five be so? Because their times were different, their customs were not the same; because their ages were diverse, their significance was not identical. How could one rashly employ common foolishness to falsely question the spiritual ultimate? I see Daoists battling with śramaṇas, and Confucians, Mohists, and śramaṇas holding trials of right and wrong with Daoists. Once, a wild goose flew across the expanse of the sky; because of its great distance, it was hard to tell from a duck. A person of Yue took it for a duck, and a person of Chu took it for a swallow. The people were merely of Chu and Yue—was the wild goose ever anything other than one wild goose? Although the pure root is one, I naturally revere both; as its root has poured forth and its traces have divided, I have already soared to where it settles. You may exclusively honor the traces of the Buddha, but do not slight the root of the Dao.