廣弘明集 19.21

19.21

Liu Qiu served initially as magistrate of Fuyang and later as assistant governor of Nanjun. Soon afterwards he resigned of his own accord, beginning to shake off worldly dust; he was then thirty-two years of age. Commentators compared him to Shu Guang and Bing Han of the Han dynasty. Thereupon he abstained from cereals and renounced grains, taking atractylis as food and wearing hempen cloth. In coarse garments and straw sandals, in a thatched hut with earthen screens, he performed prostrations, recited scriptures, observed the long fast, and never missed the six periods of devotion. He no longer cultivated or compiled secular classical books, and utterly cast aside minor arts such as weiqi and calligraphy. He devoted himself exclusively to investigating the subtleties of Buddhist principles, expounding the doctrines that goodness does not incur retributive rebirth and that one attains Buddhahood through sudden enlightenment; at that time none could confute him. He annotated the *Lotus Sūtra* and other texts, and lectured on the *Nirvāṇa Sūtra*, the Large and Small Prajñāpāramitā sūtras, and so on. In the early Jianyuan era of the Qi, an imperial edict summoned him to be Palace Attendant and Cavalier Attendant-in-Ordinary, but he did not take up the post. Prince Wenxuan deeply promoted the wondrous Dharma; because Liu Qiu was refined in Buddhist principles, he invited him to come down east, sending him a letter that read: 'The jade candle marks a fruitful year, and the metal tone of autumn is in the pitch-pipes. As warmth and coolness begin to exchange, in motion or stillness may you be at peace. You diligently relish the flavour of the Way and fortunately abide by your refined aspirations; is this not delightful? I am truly most fortunate. The common people are of one heart, and sentient beings suffer no sickness; every house could be enfiefed—what more then could one seek? Yet good books are kept to myself alone, and fine discussions find no analysis; longing for you, sir, truly aches my heart. Thus, regardless of a thousand li, I send a foot-long letter to convey my feelings. Ever since purity and limpidity parted and flimsy decadence took their place, methods of seclusion and public life have varied, and paths of silence and speech have been tangled. Some adorn wisdom to astonish the simple; some stir up purity to offend the vulgar; some soil themselves to attain dark communion; some sing erratic songs to illumine the Way. Slaughtering sheep or dealing horses could not grind away their firmness; feigning madness or acting like fools, how could it blacken their purity? Holding office in Chu or enfeoffed in Wei, their unworldly aura grew ever more distant; entering Han or wandering in Liang, their worldly sentiments grew ever more scant. When weighing their relative gravity and grading their merits and flaws, then with a profound mind and penetrating appreciation, could they ever be matched? Long have I nurtured leisure in my breast and ever yearned for the transcendent spirit; my tracks tread the dust of jade tallies and ribboned seals, but my heart wanders free among rivers and lakes. Even before meeting you I felt an innate intimacy, hearing of your style as if an old friend. Yet the wish to turn your carriage hither has stirred in vain, and there are no means to show the rites of bowing at your gate. Truly, I have long stood resting against the carriage-axle from the bottom of my heart, and emptied my baskets onto the distant road. You stand out distinct and aloof, resolute and hard to uproot; your pure aspirations are as boundless as white clouds, and your lofty sentiments share their freshness with green pines. Explicating and practicing the plain and the refined, the withered monkish forest puts forth new shoots; clearly discerning emptiness and existence, the obstructed River joins again in a torrent. Those called men who have forgotten words may discuss the juncture of Heaven and man; how could you, like soaring phoenixes and wheeling cranes, harbor any calculating intent to gather together? Rising high above the ocean of craving, you walk in step along the thoroughfares of dhyāna; tasting the dark excursions of the Hao and She rivers, you bring into your fold the Dharma-companions of Jetavana and Gṛdhrakūṭa. You open up the three vehicles to the impoverished son, and reveal the two truths to the confused and ignorant. With such conditions, how exhilarating it is! Today the imperial influence is entirely harmonious, and the supreme Way is vastly spread. The four seas do not overflow, and the five sacred peaks are free of dust. The imperial academies have begun to be renovated, and the scriptural Dharma is broadly unfurled. People hold pearls and gems in low regard, and households practice propriety and deference. Gathering firewood and hay follows the seasons, so suburban forests are utterly lush; casting nets has its limits, so fish and birds soar and swim together. As for towering peaks and severed ravines encircling the imperial domains, fertile fields and rich plains stretch out of sight without obstruction. It is truly fit to beckon those of the reclusive fold to dwell and lodge their exquisite sentiments. Thus Wenju built his dwelling by the bend of the Zhicheng, and Cizong planted a hedge at the foot of the Western Hills; Ge Hong made his home amid the sea-facing crags, and Shi Huiyuan reposed in seclusion in the depths of Mount Zhong. Whenever I tread their lingering tracks, deep laments of the Nine Springs always arise. If your lofty steps could be deflected hither, why should we long further for those four masters? In antiquity, Confucius met Boxue, and Mañjuśrī went to Vimalakīrti; did they not understand the way of forgetting each other? Surely there was good reason for it! Before we meet face to face, take care of yourself for the sake of the Way. The details are entrusted to the mouth of Lingju, delivering the words of Wang Yuanzhang.'