廣弘明集 23.21

23.21

In the tenth month, winter, on the gengzi day, in the eleventh year of the Yuanjia reign era, Dharma Master Daosheng died at Mount Lu. Alas, how grievous!
When a good person reaches their end, the following sorrow is not shallow; when one who embodies the principle passes away, the regret felt is all the deeper. The Dharma Master was originally surnamed Wei, a native of Pengcheng. His father was the magistrate of Guangqi County, who marveled at him in his youth. He took him to Dharma Master Fatai, whereupon he changed his attire and pursued the vocation. Endowed by Heaven with sharp intellect and diligence, his understanding and enlightenment were remarkably precocious. At the age when one sets their will on learning, he already mounted the lecture seat. At that time, renowned monks who hoped for the Way and men of eminent fame—none failed to exhaust their words, blunt their thoughts, and submit to his exquisite subtlety. Lu Lian refuting Tian Ba, or Xiang Tuo withstanding the old man Confucius, could scarcely have surpassed him.
Moreover, his nature was calm yet unbending and fierce; his disposition was harmonious and easily followed. Welcoming and guiding with joyous giving, others esteemed him all the more. In middle age, he traveled to study, extensively seeking unusual teachings. From Yang to Qin, he ascended Lu and climbed Huo. The purports of Kumārajīva's Mahāyāna and the essentials of Devadharma's Hīnayāna—he thoroughly mastered their tenets and investigated their depths. What he heard grew superior by the day; what he saw surpassed the abstruse. Thereupon he was enlightened and said: “Images are what convey principles; if one clings to images, one strays from principle. Teachings are that by which transformation occurs; if one is bound to teachings, one is blind to transformation. Therefore, to scrutinize names and demand realities leads to confusion over falsehood; to seek the mind through external affairs leaves one blind to profound sayings. From its transmission among the Western lands to its reception in China, no one has yet been able to transcend these boundaries.”
Thereupon, gathering what was obscured and exercising his mind alone, he contemplated and trod the ancient vestiges. Upon this, the myriad scriptures scattered like clouds, and all doubts melted like ice. Śākyamuni's purpose could be calmly discerned, and marvelous, rare expressions all became coherent doctrines. Laozi and Zhuangzi expounding the nominal teachings, or Wang Bi and Xiang Xiu grasping the mysterious mind—compared to this, that was easy!
Creatures envy radiant talent, and people censure upright transcendence. Resentment arose among his fellow monks, who took pleasure in breaking apart from the assembly. He then drooped his wings, drew back his feet, withdrew his shadow into crags and caves, and followed the darkest depths of the supreme Way. Casting his steps in the manner of the Foolish Old Man boarding a boat, he went forward with no return, ending his life at the foot of the mountain. Grief arose throughout the realm. Alas, how grievous!