廣弘明集 27.58

27.58

Investigating since distant kalpas, entangled by the three actions and deluded by the six faculties, tainted by craving and moisturizing karma, we have sunk down to the present day. Birth, old age, sickness, and death are truly great suffering. Thus a sūtra says: 'One body dies and disintegrates, and one receives yet another body; life and death are countless. Were all the plants and trees in the world to be chopped down to serve as counting tallies, they could not count my former bodies.' Therefore, the discerning person arouses disgust and ascends high beyond the fetters of the realms; the foolish person covets life and constantly sinks in the prison of birth and death. Hence one must recognize the fault so that one may bid it farewell forever. As the Baotai jing says: 'When sentient beings enter the womb, all is dim and murky, like floating dust. Remaining in the womb for ten months, experiencing forty-two transformations, their consciousness is faint and their bitter poisons and sharp pains are hard to bear. The foul abode is cramped, worse than a prison; hunger, thirst, cold, and heat surpass those of hungry ghosts. When the mother is full, it is tight and choked; when the mother is hungry, it falls into a stifling faint. Food that is cold is like ice; food that is hot is like fire. Drinking much is like drifting on a great sea; rapid walking is like tumbling into a perilous ravine. Long sitting is like being pressed down by earth; long standing is like being suspended over a latrine. Smothered from below and pressed from above, there is no time without suffering. When about to be born, it is doubly arduous, like a naked body running against blades, cries resounding and tearing. Though having endured such suffering, many are still incomplete: whether after one day, a hundred days, one month, or ten months, some abort and fall in the womb, or in giving birth, both mother and child lose their lives.' One should reflect that this birth is truly great suffering. Next, reflect on the suffering of old age. A sūtra says: 'Years advanced and faculties mature, the physical form alters and complexion fades; sitting and rising are utterly painful, and little life remains.' The Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: 'For example, a lamp wick relies solely on oil; when the oil is exhausted, the light of the wick does not last long. Humans are also like this: they rely solely on the vitality of youth; once the vitality of youth is exhausted, how could the wick of declining old age abide long? Again, it is like a broken axle, no longer of any use; like frosted blossoms, which people do not wish to look at.' Another sūtra says: 'This day has already passed, and life is diminished accordingly, like fish with little water: what pleasure is there in this?' One should reflect that this old age is also a great suffering. Next, reflect on the suffering of sickness. It all arises from wind, cold, chill, and heat, or lack of moderation in food and drink; when the four seasons change, the water and stones fail to support each other. How much more so with this body of temporary combinations, this perilous and fragile form? To hope to escape without the four great elements failing, without a hundred and one ailments, how could that be possible? When bitter afflictions press upon the body, the mind is troubled and filled with sorrow; seeking life one does not recover, seeking death one does not perish. Pains and distress of a hundred kinds, extreme anxiety forms within. In an abode stinking with feces and urine, wife and children change their expressions; when the bodily frame is uncontrolled, bystanders turn pale. How much more so when one lodges sickness in a solitary body: who would be willing to support one? Thus a sūtra says: 'When the time of sickness and death arrives, compassionate fathers and filial sons cannot rescue one another.' These are perfect words; it is truly a great suffering. Again, reflect on the suffering of death. A sūtra says: 'To die is to come to an end; the breath ceases, the spirit departs, and the bodily frame becomes desolate. Human beings and all things are brought together in this: there is no living being that does not end.' Another sūtra says: 'The place to which one goes is distant and without companions; there is nothing not destroyed, and those who witness it are poisoned with sorrow.' A sūtra also says: 'Born alone and dying alone, the body must bear it by itself; deep and dark, there is no set time for meeting again.' Therefore the sage regards the body as an affliction; how could he take death as receiving further birth? Going back and forth through the five destinies toils my spirit. I vow to sever the source of craving and eliminate the root of birth. Therefore, the suffering of death truly arises from this body; it was with this intention that the Tathāgata left home and established his teachings.