弘明集 6.84

6.84

The treatise begins by saying: 'The Buddha is Laozi, and Laozi is the Buddha.' It also compares immortal transcendence to Nirvāṇa, and long life to deathlessness. Thereupon it cites secular admonitions to tally with the mysterious teaching, and collates their rhetorical precedents to make them equal. It has not yet censured cutting hair and abandoning decorum, treating them merely as insect chirps and bird calls not worthy of imitation. Please let me discuss this. In my consideration, the Duke of Zhou and Confucius took Ruism and Mohism as their standards, while Laozi and Zhuangzi used discriminating doctrines to clarify the trap. These were all methods of opening up gradual, nearby paths, not yet complete in vast expansion. Furthermore, insects and birds are different species; their ways of transformation were originally separated. If one wishes to speak of this, one ought first to investigate its origin. Therefore, human beings participate with the two primal forces and are called the Three Powers. How could that which is governed by the Three Powers be divided into Barbarian and Chinese? Thus we know that humans must belong to human kind, and beasts must belong to herds of beasts. To verify this from nearby: the seven precious jewels are loved by human beings, and therefore Chinese and Barbarians value them alike; respect and reverence are prized by human beings, and therefore the nine domains alike cultivate them. For this reason, the style of the 'Guanju' poem circulated throughout the four quarters; how much more so should the great transformation mold things without permeating the three-thousandfold world? If we speak on the basis of the scriptures, it is said that when the Buddha arose in the world, in ancient times there was one single Dharma and myriad realms followed the same track. When Śākyamuni first cultivated the bodhisattva path, he broadly transformed the multitude of living beings. Upon attaining Buddhahood he had his own land; all who were favored with his compassionate moisture came to be born in our realm—our Jambudvīpa. It is only that having long been deluded in birth and death, drifting and defiled by secular currents, they temporarily lost the right path and have not yet awakened to the prior enlightenment. Because the sage lowered his wisdom of the three masteries, observed their respective faculties, and knew that their categories were diverse, he therefore taught the three vehicles to receive them. When traced to its origin, the true Dao is singular, and the Dharma is non-dual. Now, he expediently teaches three, leading them differently to a common return. Therefore, when he traveled in assemblies and expounded the Dharma, those who awakened were as numerous as grains of sand and dust; for saving the sunken and rescuing the deluded, nothing surpasses this Dharma. For this reason, future and past boundless worlds share this single principle; thus it is clear that the ninety-five heterodox paths are not of this stream. You initially spoke of their sameness without speaking of their differences; thus we know that what was initially deemed identical was not identical, and what was ultimately deemed different was not different. Is this not mistakenly striking earthen pots to clumsily harmonize with the yellow bell? How could it not be a falsehood? As for preserving the body and maintaining ancestral rites, wearing the ceremonial cap and letting the sash hang down, or draping oneself in felt and wrapping shells, burying in dust and burning in fire, the music of the Zhengshi era and the rhymes of foreign speech—these are merely minor differences in secular rituals. Now, when among birds, birds sing; when among beasts, beasts cry out. To respond to one ten-thousandth of their sounds and evoke different responses from different species, yet thereby to make the transformation of Barbarian and Chinese separate—how utterly confused! A dry boat or a drowned carriage can serve as a metaphor for this. Secular rituals arise from a thinning of loyalty and trustworthiness, not from the purity of the Dao. Those who cultivate the pure Dao strive to reverse secular ways. Once secular ways are reversed, the Dao can be pure. Because reversing secular ways is difficult, one ought to eliminate their excesses. To eliminate excesses, one must first cast off the cap, shave the hair, wear square garments, and fast. Casting off the cap eliminates the expense of worldly adornment; shaving the hair eliminates the trouble of pins and combs; wearing square garments dispenses with the artisan work of tailoring; fasting cuts off thoughts of savoring flavors. This is 'for the seeker of the Dao, daily decreasing'—how could it be instituted by barbarian customs? As for the extensive canonical literature, the three piṭakas, and the four Āgamas, this is 'for the seeker of learning, daily increasing'—how could Chinese custom have created this? It is also said: 'Buddhist scriptures are voluminous and obvious; Daoist scriptures are concise and obscure.' Inferring from this: if it is obscure, then digging into and looking up to it makes it difficult to aspire to; if it is obvious, then inquiring and seeking makes it easy to expect. Conciseness is surely insufficient to demonstrate the principle, while volume allows for reaching understanding through many fords. The Buddhist Dharma regards corporeal forms as empty and illusory, and therefore one forgets oneself to save the multitude; the Daoist method regards the ego-self as real and true, and therefore one ingests substances to nourish life. Moreover, if life could indeed be nourished, could absorbing the sun's rays match a thousand pines against frost, or could morning mushrooms equal myriad toon trees against snow? Surely not. If one deeply realizes that the three realms are a dwelling of the long night, and that sentient beings are the masters of a great dream, then when one contemplates the path of awakening, why would one value the physical frame? Even supposing that the body could be refined and live without dying, this would still be a divergence in fundamental doctrine, not something in common with Buddhist principle. Why is this said? The spirit's lodging in a body is like staying in an inn. Provided that coming and going are fitting, why be passionately attached to the eaves of the building? That which is sentience with knowledge, and form that can be formed, are not the body of a sage. Even with the life of a Yao or a Confucius, their lifespans did not reach a hundred; the Great Sage's Nirvāṇa was the same as knowing one's destiny. For this reason, since eternal kalpas he has purified and refined the divine brilliance; once the divine brilliance is purified, its illumination transcends existence and non-existence, and its designation surpasses the four propositions. This is the truly authentic Dao, unchanging from beginning to end. Furthermore, those who notch their boat long for a golden body, and those who wait by the tree trunk expect the state of feathered transcendence. Therefore they cling to existence while practicing the six perfections, or stagnate while consuming the numinous fungus. Although having attachments runs contrary to the essence of the six perfections, practicing them may still save beings; stagnation will certainly never lead to feathered transcendence, so how could such practices be adequate for helping others? Tracing the two sources and following their tracks, their vastness and narrowness show different dispositions, their superiority and inferiority being plain to see. Instances such as these cannot be fully interrogated; they are all one's own superficial sentiments, not the expansive insight of universal understanding. Thus we know that distinct customs can be differentiated by the Dao. How sorrowful! Since the mysterious sage is long gone, superficial writings have contended to arise. This can be called pointing to insect tracks and deeming them the script of Cangjie, or feeding on wasp milk and taking it for clarified ghee—truly lamentable! The Buddha's Dao is vast and boundless; the measure of its wisdom cannot be exhausted in words, and its responsive traces are difficult to measure through forms. When it analyzes existence, myriad phenomena are spread out like a forest, standing firm in their diversity; when it analyzes non-existence, Mount Tai is emptied out and completely vanishes, dispersing together with an autumn hair. Wielding the ten powers to vanquish Māra, and expanding the four immeasurables to save the secular world—when it raises the Dharma torch of prajñā, what obscurity is not illuminated? When it conceals the Dharma majesty of samādhi, what distance is not subdued? How could one suspect that Barbarians and Chinese would not imitate it?"