[Pramāṇa](https://indike.org/pramana/) › [Indian literature](https://indike.org/pramana/in) › [Buddhist Literature](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha) › [Taishō Tripiṭaka (Chinese Buddhist canon)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho) › [廣弘明集](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103) › 24.68 # 廣弘明集 24.68 廣弘明集 24.68 - **Language:** Classical Chinese ### [24.68](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24.68) 竊聞。出家閑曠猶若虛空。在俗籠樊比於牢獄。非但經有明文。亦自世間共見。瞥聞法師覆彼舟航。趣返緇衣之務。此為目下之英奇。非久長之深計。何以知然。從苦入樂。未知樂中之樂。從樂入苦。方知苦中之苦。弟子素以法師雖無曩舊。相知已來亦復不疎。夫良藥必自無甘。忠諫者決乎逆耳。倚見其僻是以不忍不言。且三十年中造莫大之業如何一旦捨已成之功孰為可惜。敬度高懷。未解深意。將非帷幄之策。欲集留侯。形類臥龍遠求葛氏。黃石兵法寧可再逢。三顧茅廬無由兩遇。封爵五等唯見不逢。中閤外門難朱易白。鳴笳鳳管非有或聞。舞女歌姬空勞反翫。覓之者等若牛毛。得之者譬猶牛角。以此之外何所窺窬。法師今若退轉。未必有一稱心。交失現前十種大利。何者。佛法不簡細流。入者則尊歸依則貴。上不朝天子。下不讓諸侯。獨翫世間無為自在。其利一也。身無執作之勞。口飡香積之飯。心不妻妾之務。身飾芻摩之衣。朝無踐境之憂。夕不千里之苦。俯仰優遊寧不樂哉。其利二也。躬無任重居必方城。白壁朱門理然致敬。夜琴晝瑟是自娛懷。曉筆暮詩論情頓足。其利三也。假使棘生王路橋化長溝。巷吏門兒何因仰喚。寸絹不輸官庫斗米。不進公倉庫部倉司。豈須求及其利四也。門前擾擾我且安眠。巷裏云云余無驚色。家休小大之調。門停強弱之丁。入出隨心往還自在。其利五也。出家無當之僧。猶勝在俗之士。假使心存殺戮。手無斷命之愆。密裏通情決勝酌然。嬌俗如斯煩垢萬倍勝於白衣。一入愛河永沈無出。其利六也。聽鍾聲而致敬。尋香馥以生心。朝覩尊儀暮披寶軸。剎那之善逐此而生。水渧微功漸盈大器。未知因緣果報。善惡皎然。就此而言。其利難陳矣。假使達相白衣。猶有埃塵之務。縱令遙寄彈指遠近低頭。形去心留身移意往。閡有者得如此。貧苦者永無因。近在目前不言可見。其利七也。山間樹下故自難期。枕石漱流實為希有。猶斯之類不可思議。如此者難逢。一心人希遇。法師未能不學。交習聰勝之因。一旦退心於理邈矣。其利八也。開織成之帙。見過去之因。摛琉璃之卷。驗當來之果。識因識業不以為愆。知福知報何由作罪。上無舟檝。交見沒溺之悲。下失浮囊。則有沈身之患。其利九也。曠濟群品為天人之師。水陸空行皆所尊貴。言必闍梨和上。書輒致敬和南。遠近嗟詠貴賤顒仰。法師今必退轉。立成可驗。纔脫袈裟。逢人輒稱汝我。始解偏袒姓名便亦可呼。平交故自不論。下劣者亦恐不讓。薄言稱已榻席懸異從來。小得自在便以君為題封。若不屈膝斂眉自達無因。俯仰承迎未閑合度。如此專專何由可與。其利十也。略言十事空失此機。其間深道寧容具述。仰度仁者。心居魔境為魔所迷。意附邪途受邪易性。假使眉如細柳何足關懷。頰似紅桃詎能長久。同衾分枕。猶有長信之悲。坐臥忘時。不免秋胡之怨。洛川神女尚復不惑東阿。世上班姬何關君事。夫心者面焉。若論繾綣則共氣共心。一過纏綿則連宵厭起。法師未通返照安悟賣花。未得他心那知彼意。嗚呼桂樹遂為巨火所焚。可惜明珠乃受淤埿埋沒。弟子今日橫諮。必為法師所哂。世上白衣何訾何限。且一人退道而不安危。推此而言實成難解。譬如瓦礫盈路人所不驚。片子黃金萬夫息步。正言法師入道之功已備。染俗之法未加。何異金博赤銅銀換鉛錫。可悲可惜猶可優量能忍難忍。方知其最願棄俗事務息塵勞。正念相應行志兩全。薄加詳慮更可思惟。悔之在前無勞後恨。如弟子算遠即十數年。中決知惻愴。近即三五歲內空唱如何。萬恨萬悲寧知遠及。自誤自惜永棄一生。乃知斷絃可續情去難留。或若火裏生花可稱希有。迷人知返去道不遙。幸速推排急登正路。法師非是無知。遂為愚者所迷。類似阿難便為魔之所嬈。猶須承三寶之力制彼群凶。竪波若之幢天魔自欵。若此言旨當即便寄棄芻蕘。若不會高懷幸停深怪耳。 > I have heard that leaving household life is spacious and vast like empty space, whereas dwelling in the secular world is an enclosing cage comparable to a prison. This is not only explicitly stated in the scriptures, but also witnessed by all throughout the world. Suddenly I hear that the Master of the Dharma has overturned that boat and is hastening to return from the clerical robes to worldly tasks. This may be seen as a momentary brilliance, but it is not a deep plan for the long run. How do we know this is so? Going from suffering to joy, one does not yet know the joy within joy; going from joy to suffering, one only then realizes the suffering within suffering. Although this disciple had no ancient ties with the Master of the Dharma, since becoming acquainted we have not been distant. Good medicine is naturally never sweet; loyal admonitions are unfailingly jarring to the ear. Seeing this error, I cannot bear to remain silent. Furthermore, having built up a magnificent undertaking over thirty years, how could you abandon the achievements already accomplished in a single day? How deeply regrettable this would be! Respectfully conjecturing your lofty thoughts, I still do not understand the deeper intent. Could it be that you wish to match the Marquis of Liu in the stratagems of the command tent, or seek out Zhuge Liang from afar in the guise of the Crouching Dragon? Yet can the military treatises of Old Man Yellow Stone ever be encountered a second time? The three visits to the thatched cottage cannot be met twice. The five ranks of nobility are only seen to be missed. For the inner pavilions and outer gates, it is hard to put on the scarlet and easy to wear the plain white. The sounding pipes and phoenix flutes are not things one can count on hearing; dancing girls and singing courtesans merely tire one in vain dalliance. Those who seek them are as numerous as hairs on an ox; those who obtain them are as few as the horns of an ox. Beyond these, what else is there to peer after? If the Master of the Dharma now retrogresses, you may not obtain a single thing to your heart's desire, while certainly losing ten great benefits presently before you. What are they? The Buddha's Dharma does not exclude minor streams: those who enter it become venerable, and those who take refuge in it become exalted. Above, one does not pay court to the Son of Heaven; below, one does not yield to the feudal lords. Solitary and delighting in the world, unconditioned and free at ease—this is the first benefit. One's body is free from the toil of manual labor; one's mouth eats the food of Xiangji. One's mind is free from the affairs of wives and concubines; one's body is adorned with kṣauma robes. In the morning there is no anxiety over patrolling borders; in the evening there is no hardship of traveling a thousand li. Moving about in leisure and contentment, how could this not be joyful? This is the second benefit. Personally carrying no heavy burdens, one's residence is surely secure as a walled city; white walls and vermilion gates naturally show respect. The lute by night and the zither by day entertain one's own heart; the brush at dawn and poetry at dusk allow one to express feelings and dance for joy. This is the third benefit. Even if thorns overgrow the king's highway and bridges collapse into long trenches, on what grounds could alley bailiffs or gate officers summon you from below? Not an inch of silk is paid to the official treasuries; not a peck of grain is brought to the public granaries, so what need is there to seek out the storehouses or granary directors? This is the fourth benefit. Before the gates there may be turmoil, yet I sleep peacefully; in the alleys there may be clamor, yet I show no look of alarm. The household is exempt from corvée levies, large and small; the family is spared providing adult males, strong or weak. Entering and leaving as the heart wills, coming and going at complete ease—this is the fifth benefit. Even an unworthy monk who has left the household is still superior to a gentleman in the secular world. Even if his mind harbors slaughter, his hands commit no sin of ending life; secretly conveying sentiments, his victory is clear and distinct. Even if he indulges in worldly affectations to such a degree, and his defilements are ten-thousand-fold greater than those of a layman, once one enters the river of desire, one sinks forever with no way out. This is the sixth benefit. Hearing the sound of the bell, one pays reverence; seeking the fragrance of incense, the mind arises. In the morning one gazes upon the venerable images; in the evening one opens the precious scrolls. Wholesome moments arise in succession through this; the slight merits of water drops gradually fill a great vessel. Even without knowing causes, conditions, and retributions, good and bad are clearly distinct; speaking in this regard, its benefits are difficult to relate fully. Even if a layman has attained comprehension of the marks of things, he still has dusty worldly affairs: even if he sends a finger-snap from afar, or bows his head near and far, though his form departs his mind remains, and though his body moves his thoughts run on. The obstructed and wealthy can barely manage this, while the poor and suffering have no opportunity at all. It is right before the eyes, plainly visible without words—this is the seventh benefit. Lodging among the mountains and beneath trees is indeed hard to reckon upon; pillowed on rocks and rinsing with streams is truly rare. Those of this kind are inconceivable: such people are hard to meet, and single-minded persons are seldom encountered. The Master of the Dharma has not failed to study, thoroughly cultivating the causes of brilliance and preeminence; if you suddenly retrogress in your mind, in terms of principle you will be far astray. This is the eighth benefit. Opening brocade wrappers, one sees the causes of the past; unfurling lapis-lazuli scrolls, one verifies the fruits of the future. Recognizing causes and karma, one does not commit offenses; knowing blessings and retribution, how could one produce sin? Above, having no boat or oars, one inevitably sees the sorrow of drowning; below, losing the life-float, there is the disaster of sinking one's body. This is the ninth benefit. Vastly delivering all beings, one serves as a teacher of gods and humans; creatures that travel in water, on land, or through the air all hold you in honor and esteem. In address they unfailingly say Ācārya and Upādhyāya; in writing they always convey respect with a vandanā. Near and far sing praises; the noble and the lowly look up in reverence. If the Master of the Dharma now must retrogress, this will be immediately proved: the moment you take off the kāṣāya, whoever meets you will readily address you as 'you' and 'I'; as soon as you undo the robe baring one shoulder, your personal name can be shouted out. Equals in rank are naturally not to be mentioned, but even subordinates, I fear, will not yield. In slight terms they will refer to you by name; the couch and mat will be vastly different from before. If they have even slight independence, they will use your ordinary title on the envelope. If you do not bend the knee and furrow the brow, you will have no way to present yourself; bowing and scraping to receive others, you are not yet accustomed to the proper measure. With things entirely like this, how could one bear it? This is the tenth benefit. Briefly stating these ten matters, you are casting away this opportunity in vain; how could the profound Way among them be described in full? Respectfully I surmise that the Benevolent One's mind is dwelling in the realm of māras, deluded by māras; your intention adheres to perverse paths, corrupted by perversity to change your nature. Even if eyebrows are like slender willows, why are they worthy of your concern? Even if cheeks are like red peaches, how could they endure for long? Sharing the quilt yet parting the pillow, there remains the sorrow of the Changxin Palace; forgetting the hours while sitting and lying down, one cannot escape the resentment of Qiu Hu's wife. Even the goddess of the River Luo could not bewitch the Prince of Dong'a; how should the Lady Ban of this world concern you, sir? For the face is the mirror of the mind: if speaking of tender love, one shares breath and mind, yet once passion passes, revulsion arises night after night. The Master of the Dharma has not yet achieved inward reflection; how can you realize the illusion of the flower-seller? Not having attained knowledge of the minds of others, how can you know her thoughts? Alas! The cassia tree is ultimately consumed by a great fire; how lamentable that the bright pearl is buried beneath mire! This disciple's unsolicited counsel today will certainly be mocked by the Master of the Dharma. Yet how can one blame or restrict the laymen of this world? Furthermore, for a single person to abandon the Way brings neither safety nor danger \[to the world at large\]; examining this, it is truly hard to comprehend. It is like rubble filling the road, which alarms no one, whereas a single piece of yellow gold halts ten thousand men in their tracks. It is precisely because the Master of the Dharma's achievements in entering the Way are already complete, and the defilements of the secular world have not yet tainted you. How is this different from trading gold for red copper, or exchanging silver for lead and tin? It is sorrowful and pitiable! You can still carefully weigh the matter: to be able to endure what is hard to endure is known to be the supreme virtue. I pray you abandon worldly affairs, put an end to dusty toils, correspond with correct mindfulness, and keep both your conduct and aspiration intact. Give it a little careful deliberation and reflect on it further; repentance in advance avoids regret afterwards. By this disciple's calculation, in the long term, within ten-odd years, you will surely know grief and sorrow; in the short term, within three to five years, you will lament in vain, 'What can be done?' Who can say whether ten thousand regrets and ten thousand sorrows will extend to distant times? In self-delusion and self-pity you will forever cast away an entire lifetime. Only then will you know that broken strings may be restrung, but departing love can hardly be detained. Or if a flower blooms within fire, it may indeed be called rare. A deluded person who knows how to return is not far from the Way. Fortunately, quickly cast aside these thoughts and swiftly ascend the correct path! The Master of the Dharma is not without understanding, yet has been deluded by foolish persons, resembling Ānanda when harassed by māras. You must still rely on the power of the triratna to subdue those many evils; raise the banner of prajñā, and the deva-māras will naturally submit. If these words hit the mark, please promptly discard this humble advice; if they do not suit your lofty sentiments, I hope you will withhold deep resentment. > — English (machine translation) (machine translation) - [Previous: 24.67](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24.67) - [Next: 24.69](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24.69) - [Up: 24](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24) ## Translations (1) - [English (machine translation)](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103~en-mt.24.68) — English, machine translation --- Source: [https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24.68](https://indike.org/pramana/in.bauddha.taisho.2103.24.68) · Pramāṇa