北山錄 3.4

The Great Sage respects himself, all spirits assist him, beneficent manifestation is his mind, and saving and correcting are his merits. Those who illuminate and dwell in the world are transformations (Heavenly dragons attend him; Śakra and Brahmā venerate him as Master; presiding over the three realms, he dwells in honor; gathering the four types of living beings, he transforms them alike). Sometimes he acts as an officer, sometimes as a king of men (Manifesting transformations as ministers, petty kings, and so forth, as appropriate). Down to the artisans: an incense-selling elder (In the land of Guāṅdà [Vipula] there was an incense-selling elder named Utpala, who was skilled at discerning and knowing all incenses. He also knew how to blend all incense methods—burning, anointing, powdering, and so forth—and also knew their places of origin. There is an incense named "elephant treasury," born from dragons fighting. If one pellet is burned, a great incense cloud arises and covers the royal capital, raining down a fine rain of incense for seven days. Smeared on bodies, pavilions, and clothes, all become golden in color. On Mount Malaya there is sandalwood called "ox-head incense"; if smeared on the body, even if one enters a fire pit, the fire cannot burn it. On the Snowy Mountains [Himālaya] there is an incense named aruṇa; sentient beings who smell it are freed from all defiled desires); a sea-ferrying shipmaster (In a southern city, within a pavilion there was a shipmaster named Po-shī-luó [Vāśira?], who, out on the sea, with hundreds of thousands of merchants, expediently expounded the qualities and teachings of the Buddha, delivering sentient beings); an ascetic non-Buddhist (At Mount Bhadrika in the city of Tosala, there was a non-Buddhist named Sarvagāmin, who expounded all worldly arts, crafts, and skills for people, and was also able to subdue ninety-six kinds of non-Buddhists, causing them to abandon all views); or a sand-playing child (The boy Īśvara of the south, amid the river islets of the land of Famous Renown, gathered sand in play with ten thousand boys; this boy thoroughly knew the names of all sentient beings, the names of all karmas, and the names of all truths)—whatever benefits the common people, there is nothing he does not do. Sometimes, being muddled, he shows them simplicity (Muddled means the appearance of being foolish and simple); sometimes, being discerning, he shows them wisdom (Discerning means the appearance of being clear and penetrating); sometimes, being resolute, he shows them courage (Resolute means the appearance of being unbending and strong); sometimes, being genial, he shows them harmony (Genial means the appearance of being harmonious and cheerful). Yet one cannot seek him in a single uniform way, nor can one discard one to seek another. Thus he now contracts, now expands; now is manifest, now hidden; now low, now high (Contracting means gathering together; expanding means opening. Manifest means bright; hidden means dark. Low means low and deep; high means high and prominent). Just as one is about to grasp him, one loses him again; just as one is about to rely on him, one runs counter to him again. Are his virtues deep, or do his traces alter? Does his outward form awaken, or is his shadow deceptive? Does his voice resound, or is its echo blocked? Truly, none can probe his subtleties. Therefore, how could the ultimate Way be used to cultivate the person? How could the expedient Way be used to govern transformations? (The ultimate Way is the complete teaching; it does not solely benefit oneself. The expedient Way is the partial teaching; it cannot universally ferry across and govern). The ultimate Way cannot be abandoned even for an instant, and thus it mixes without being defiled (In the fruit it does not increase; abiding in the cause it does not decrease; following ordinary currents it does not drown; dwelling among the multitude it is not different). The expedient Way cannot be established for long, and thus it is cast aside to unite with the Way (Devising expedients for temporary use, it cannot be established for long; one must return to the constant Way). And the ultimate Way culminates in the ultimate (The first "culminates" means perfection; the second "ultimate" means the fruit of three asaṃkhyeya kalpas, which is the final destination; the ultimate Way of the six pāramitās and myriad practices can bring to perfection the fruit of three asaṃkhyeya kalpas). The expedient Way begins the beginning (The first "begins" means the initial arising; the second "beginning" means the practices of the five precepts, ten virtues, and lesser sages; the Buddha opened this expedient teaching as the beginning of the initial aspiration and entry). Like Devadatta, who committed the three deadly sins and yet finally received the prediction [to buddhahood]; the three deadly sins also had their retribution (In Sanskrit: Devadatta; here translated as "God-given." He was the Buddha's cousin, son of King Droṇodana, obtained by praying to a deva. Thus he constantly acted as the Buddha's foe. He struck and injured the Buddha's foot with a rock, shedding the Buddha's blood; caused a schism in the Saṅgha; and murdered a bhikṣuṇī. These are three deadly sins. Although he entered hell, at the assembly on Vulture Peak he also received a prediction. How could the retribution for the three deadly sins be in vain?). The holy prediction manifests a return to the origin. Sadāparibhūta bowed to the fourfold assembly; in truth, this violated decorum, but in an age of defilement that is hard to transform, the sage skillfully made use of the time, lodging his traces by paying homage (Bodhisattva Sadāparibhūta in the Lotus Sūtra constantly bowed to the fourfold assembly and attained buddhahood. Responding with expedients to follow the times: because in that era many were arrogant, he extensively practiced veneration to transform them). In the Western Regions, King Udayana had been on close and friendly terms with Piṇḍola since youth (Piṇḍola, whose clan name was Bhāradvāja, dwelt on Mount Malaya and did not enter nirvāṇa). Whenever the king arrived, Piṇḍola would not rise for him. The attendants urged the king to apply the law of punishment. The king said, "The matter is already done (Already done means the previous failure to rise is already finished); wait until I go next time." On another day, when the king arrived, Piṇḍola thought of not rising, fearing the king would harm him and fall into hell; he thought of rising for him, worrying it would diminish the king's merit and cost him his throne. Soon he judged again: the gravity of losing the kingdom is not worse than the evil realms; rising is better than not rising, so he should follow the better course. Thereupon he stepped forward to meet the king by seven paces. The king was startled by his inconsistency. Piṇḍola said, "Previously, I worried that Your Majesty would lose your throne. Now, because you were about to harm me, I could not adhere to that worry." The king said, "How long will I lose my kingdom?" He replied, "After seven days, you will lose your kingdom for seven years." In the Northern Qi, when the monk Sengchou met Emperor Wenxuan, he did not see him off or welcome him (Wenxuan, Gao Yang, had his capital in Hedong; he died after ten years on the throne). The emperor secretly listened to slanderous fabrications, compounded by a prophetic taboo regarding black robes (At the time, someone slandered him to Wenxuan, saying: "Seeing the king and not rising shows a mind that slights the ruler and disdains the lord." There was also a prophecy saying: "One in black robes shall be king." Chou wore black monastic robes, so he was suspected of fulfilling it). Hoping to find an excuse on a later visit to execute him for gross disrespect, when the imperial carriage arrived at the mountain, Chou had walked twenty li out of the mountain and stood alone by the roadside. The emperor said, "On other days you did not treat me like this; why so today?" Chou said, "I only feared that my defiled blood would pollute the monk's quarters." The emperor was inwardly terrified and requested to carry Chou back to his dwelling on his own back. Chou firmly refused to accept this command (He would not accept the command to be carried back). The Yijing says: "The Way of the gentleman: sometimes he comes forth, sometimes he remains secluded; sometimes he keeps silent, sometimes he speaks." This means adapting and responding to the time (As it is said: "When the state has the Way, he is wise; when the state lacks the Way, he is foolish. Employed, he acts; set aside, he conceals himself"). Indeed, those who possess the wealth of the realm and hold the nobility over the people look upon skills and arts as nothing more than chickens, dogs, oxen, and horses.

In the beginning, [humans] take pleasure in [animals] because they can tell the time (the cock), can bark and guard (the dog), can reach distant places (the ox, bearing heavy loads to reach distant places), and can relieve toil (the horse). Yet in the end, it is never the case that because of their abilities, humans do not kill them, do not eat them, or do not use their skins and hair. Therefore, even if those [beasts] are careful to rely on their rewards, yet fearful that harm will reach them, good fortune is still scarce for them. How much more so for those of the Way and virtue! (Though such birds and beasts receive appreciation and love, they still face execution and harm.) They are like rare birds and strange beasts: of no urgent use to the myriad hamlets (a well means a native hamlet; nine households make a well). Even if they happen to please a single scholar, how could that last long? In an age of supreme virtue (the times of high antiquity), when one could peer into bird nests and tether stags, why was that? Because the impulse to kill was subtle. In later ages, [birds] built their nests high and [beasts] fled far from men (birds nested high and beasts fled far from humans because they feared slaughter), and none could be tamed or grown familiar with. Was this not because that impulse had grown extreme? (For instance, when Jizha of Wu paid a court visit to Jin, as he crossed the border he sighed and said, "How tyrannical!" When his attendants asked the reason, he said, "I see that the birds' nests are high; thus I know it is tyrannical.") Zhongni said: "If nests are overturned and eggs broken, the phoenix will not arrive; if marshes are exhausted and lakes drained, the qilin will not arrive." They detest injury to their kind (they loathe harm to their own kind). Thus the worthy do not serve [the violent], and their power [only] serves to place them beneath others (because they do not form factions and remain loftily aloof). Heaven bestows its blessings; humans contemplate freedom from contention (life and death depend on destiny, wealth and honor lie with Heaven; when one is moved by discrete retributions, one does not act rashly). Now, those who dwell among the powerful and arrogant (scholars of authority and overbearing power) seldom fail to indulge themselves and strive above all to surpass others (seldom means rarely; indulge means to become accustomed to; strive means to aspire to; surpass means to best. Noble, powerful, and arrogant scholars seldom do not habituate themselves to thoughts of their own power and prestige; once habituated, they inevitably seek earnestly to overcome and surpass others). Looking upon those of humble gate and sparse connections, though they possess wisdom and artistic skill, what regard is there for them? (Those of power and prestige, towards scholars of thatch gates and wattle huts, even if their talent and skill reach the clouds, pay them no heed.) Expecting nothing of forbearance toward themselves, [the powerful] will inevitably entangle them, framing them with crimes to afflict them (forbearance means pity; having no pity, they will surely fabricate other matters to ensnare them, heaping guilt and blame upon them to harm them). Therefore the Book says: "Families of hereditary emolument are seldom able to abide by propriety." (A line from the "Bi ming" chapter of the Shangshu; families that possess hereditary emoluments and ranks are rarely able to use propriety.) How then could one hope to regulate their aloofness with propriety? Yet among officials there are those with ambition and mettle who take ruthlessness as a virtue. How could they know the favor of gentle warmth? If confronted by the glaring eyes of tigers and rhinoceroses, they would strike against them with force; why should they care about their wrath? (Glaring eyes denotes an angry look. To strike means to oppose and resist; why would they fear their wrath?) In ancient times, Guan Fan killed Bo Yuan (Yuan's courtesy name was Fazu, his original surname was Wan, a man of Henei. He went forth from home in his youth, his talent and thoughts sharp and penetrating, reciting ten thousand words daily. Zhang Fu favored him and wished to order him to return to the lay life, but he refused. Later he debated doctrine with the Daoist Guan Fan; Fan was bested and slandered him to Fu, who killed him. When the various barbarians heard of this, they entered Qinzhou in anger and killed both Fu and Fan). Yu Gong slaughtered Fahui (Fahui was a man of Guanzhong, upright, fitting, and possessed of moral conduct. During the Jianyuan era of Emperor Kang of Jin, he stayed in Xiangyang, refusing private invitations. Whenever he begged for food, he always carried a rope-bed with him. Once encountering rain, he covered himself with an oiled mantle; when the rain stopped, he could not be seen. The monk Fazhao said, "In your past you once injured a fowl's leg; your misfortune is about to arrive." Later he was killed by Yu Zhigong, General Who Subdues the West). How extreme was their venting of wrath and reckless punishment! Surely this was also because those [monks] did not slip away into hiding, nor did they conduct themselves with prudent modesty (surely means truly; slip away means to flee. Worthies retreat from the world; since they could not retreat from the evils of the world, they ought immediately to have acted with prudence and spoken with modesty, embracing the safeguard of self-preservation, yet they brought calamity upon themselves). It was because of rigid attachment to the principle of karma that it came to this (merely being rigidly attached without flexibility, determining matters solely by karmic retribution, thus it came to this). Some, being rich in the Way, do not cling to the self; hence they wear coarse hemp and restrict their grain, casting off their physical form like a shed skin. They certainly do not find death difficult, so how could they feign pretenses? (Among them were some whose Daoist virtue was solitary and high, thoroughly penetrating emptiness and existence, where self and other were both lost. Toward death they had no fear, so how could they falsely pretend in order to seek life?) Yet they likely failed to grasp the true righteousness of death (neither rescuing the doctrine of the teaching, nor seeking the Way to aid beings, vainly rushing to death—of what use was it?). Now, there are those who make light of death out of courage, and there are those who make light of death out of having lost the self. As for those with courage, if they are not foolish, they are benevolent (among those who die out of courage, some fear not death due to foolishness, while others are brave unto death due to benevolence). The foolish are like those who grapple with tigers bare-handed or cross rivers on foot (grappling with tigers means fighting them without weapons; crossing rivers means fording them on foot). The benevolent attain righteousness and ascend to the Mingtang (dying to defend against national crisis, one ascends to the Mingtang). Those who have lost the self possess sagely benevolence: they do not deliberately invite death, but when death arrives, they are not afraid (having awakened and penetrated life and death, why fear? Only karma is to be feared). In ancient times, during the transition between the Wei and Zhou, when was there ever one who, unsparing of his person, snapped the balustrade and courageously died for righteousness? (In the Hanshu: Zhu Yun, courtesy name Ziyou, was a man of Lu. In the time of Emperor Cheng, Zhang Yu was the Emperor's tutor and was treated with great honor. Yun submitted a memorial saying, "I wish to be granted the Imperial Horse-Decapitating Sword to cut off the head of one fawning minister, so as to warn the rest." The Emperor asked, "Who is it?" "The Marquis of Anchang, Zhang Yu." The Emperor was enraged: "A minor official in a lowly position slanders his superior and insults the imperial tutor in open court!" He ordered the censors to drag him down from the palace hall. Yun clung to the hall's balustrade until it snapped. Only when Xin Ji kowtowed and remonstrated did it cease. Since then, during the Later Wei and Later Zhou, when was there ever such a man?) Although the likes of Jing'ai and Daoji killed themselves among desolate crags, they were merely of the sort who hang themselves in a ditch (Ai remonstrated against Emperor Wu of the Zhou's proscription of the saṅgha without success; he entered the mountains, pricked blood to write on stone, hung his intestines on a tree, took out his heart, held it in his hands, and died. The Lunyu says: "How can it be compared to the fidelity of common men and women, who hang themselves in a ditch?"). After the pacification of the Qi, Huiyuan, filled with indignation and grief, uttered a roar like a thunderclap; his words were unyielding, and beard bristling, he provoked the ruler's wrath, barely escaping execution (Master Yuan remonstrated with Emperor Wu of Zhou, and nearly caused an imperial order of execution to be issued. Later Yuan fled into the mountain forests to lecture on the Nirvāṇa Sūtra, only emerging when Emperor Wen of Sui arose). Therefore the worthy are able to employ expedients, and the sagely understand the opportune moment; though they do not prize life, neither may they make light of death. Chou said to Gao Yang: "Dānapati, in the past you were a rākṣasa; just look at the water and you will see yourself." The Emperor complied and beheld a host of rākṣasas.

Thereupon he ceased eating meat, halted the tethering of birds and beasts, and forbade shark-meat, butchers, and the pungent roots from entering the markets. (The Records of the Jin and Qi state that when Gao Yang campaigned against the Khitans, he first bared his head and exposed his body; over a thousand li he only ate meat and drank water, his vigorous spirits growing ever fiercer. After becoming ruler, he exposed his naked form, applied white powder and painted his eyebrows with black pigment, and rode camels, oxen, and horses without saddling or bridling them. Men and women were brought together in chaotic gatherings; he watched licentious acts in person without any sense of decorum. He dismembered women, using their thighbones as pipa lutes; cut open people's bellies with his own hands; climbed onto house beams and ran as swiftly as if on the ground; his slaughters could not be numbered. Viewed in this light, calling him a rākṣasa is not mistaken.) Earlier, when the Emperor was in Jinyang, he ordered someone to ride a camel to a monastery to fetch scriptural cases. The messenger asked where it was. Yang said: "Allow the camel to go out of the city." When he went out, all at once as in a dream he arrived at a mountain. Halfway up the mountain was a Buddhist monastery. A crowd of novices called from afar: "Gao Yang's camel has arrived!" They led him to an audience with an old monk. The monk said: "How is Yang doing as the Son of Heaven?" He replied: "He is sagely and brilliant." [The monk] asked: "Why have you come?" He replied: "To fetch scriptural cases." The monk said: "When Yang was in the monastery, he was lazy about reading the scriptures. Right now, go north and take the eastern end; that is where they are." Later, the Emperor arrived at the Mujing Monastery at Gukou. At that time, there was an idiot who had abandoned worldly ties, who had previously been unable to speak. Suddenly he said to the Emperor: "I shall depart; you come later." That night the idiot died; the Emperor likewise soon died in Jinyang. (There was a daoshi of Mount Tai whom the Emperor asked: "How many years will I be the Son of Heaven?" He answered: "Thirty years." The Emperor said: "Ten years, ten months, and ten days—could that not be thirty?" When the appointed time arrived, he indeed died.) The Emperor's folly and wisdom could not be fathomed. He entrusted governance to Yang Zunyan, while vastly erecting monasteries and dwellings; throughout the entire day, he would sit in dhyāna, bow to the Buddha, and perform circumambulations as swiftly as the wind. In my humble opinion, Gao Yang personally fulfilled the black prophecy. (Previously, a prophecy said that one in black garments would become the Son of Heaven. The master of dhyāna Yidao, who is now the Ven. Beishan, took the sound of the character "Gao Yang" 高洋 to be identical to "lamb" 羔羊, which is black.) Before this, after the Zhengguang era of the Wei, (Previously, Empress Dowager Hu oversaw the court. King Yi of Qinghe marshaled soldiers to decide affairs in the hall, and the era name was changed to the first year of Zhengguang. Each person entering the market was taxed one coin.) there were many anxieties within the empire; the king's corvée duties were exhausting and burdensome. Households everywhere joined together to enter the monastic order. Irregularity and abuse piled up ever more: in rough count, monasteries numbered over thirty thousand, and monks and nuns exceeded two million. By the time Emperor Wu of the Zhou overcame the Qi—the Qi having succeeded the Wei—the monasteries numbered over four thousand, and the monastic community was reduced by three million. Wei Yuansong perhaps thought that the Buddhadharma was held in low esteem, and taking as a pretext a cruel and calamity-invoking lord, he used slanders to effect its destruction, so that upon being destroyed it might rise again, according with the principle of renewing the whole world. (Yuansong, a native of Xinfan County in Shu, left home at Black Water on Mount Emei. He submitted twenty policy proposals to purge immoral, wealthy monks and to establish a great Yanping Monastery to house the sick and feeble from the four seas; his reasoning was entirely apt. When Emperor Taizong of the Tang visited the netherworld, he saw him in hell; [Yuansong] said of himself that being there was like the joy of the third dhyāna.) Thus the biography by Tang Lin says that this man is not in the three realms. The scripture says: "Appearing to the assembly as having the three poisons, / and also exhibiting the signs of heterodox views" (the Lotus Sūtra). Is he not of that kind? However, when an ultimate person exercises expedient means, once the task is accomplished, he reveals the expedient. If he leaves it hidden to the end without revealing it, then cunning people will imitate the expedient and harm the real. As for Yuansong, he had not fully exhausted the art of expedients. Cup Pass of the Song was an exiled immortal across the sea; he concealed his surname and personal name. Because people at the time saw him crossing by riding a cup, they named him after the deed. He was also called Du Lian. (Some places called him Du Lian.) In ancient times, monks were called daoshi, alian, or ashang (and these three names existed). Once, he lodged in an inn; at dawn, (early morning,) he stole a golden icon and left. The host pursued him on galloping steeds; [Du] walked slowly, yet could not be overtaken. (The galloping horses could not catch up.) Arriving at Mengjin, he floated his cup across the Yellow River (Mengjin is the Yellow River) and reached the capital. His clothing was tattered and vile; his eating, drinking, joy, and anger were all without moderation. He carried a reed basket (a basket of bamboo, like a small cage, made entirely of reeds), and in the basket he placed a wooden cup. Once, wishing to go to Guabu (Guabu is a place between the Yangzi and Huai rivers; formerly Sun Zhong planted melons there; it is above the Yangzi River), the ferryman would not row the boat for him. Thereupon, he stepped with both feet into his cup; casting glances around and chanting poems, he crossed straight to the north bank. Once, in a village dwelling in Guangling (Jinling), he encountered an eight-precepts retreat gathering. He placed his basket in the courtyard; when members of the family went to move it, its weight was so great that none could lift it. Once, someone who peered inside saw four small boys dwelling there. At first, he feigned death under the northern cliffs of Guangling; lotuses surrounded his body, growing out of the rocks. After his burial, someone saw him in Pengcheng (Xuzhou); opening the coffin to look, only his boots and sandals remained. (Monks wearing short-legged boots call them faluo.) When Zhu Xuqi (a man of the Song) returned from an embassy to Goguryeo, he lost his way onto an islet and found Du's bowl. Once he arrived, Du said: "I have not seen this bowl for four thousand years." (Du saw the bowl and recognized it.) Baozhi of the Liang ate and drank in violation of the rules; his hair was several inches long. He held a tin staff hung with scissors, a mirror, and two or three bolts of silk. Emperor Wu of the Qi considered him to be feigning madness to mislead the populace, (Emperor Wu of Southern Qi, whose surname was Xiao, personal name Ze, and courtesy name Xuanyuan, was the son of Daocheng. He died after eleven years on the throne. His testament decreed that animal sacrifices should not be offered at his spirit-tablet, only cakes and rice; and he forbade people to leave home to enter the clergy or to erect stūpas, monasteries, and private homes as shrines.) and imprisoned him in Jiankang. Yet Zhi divided his form and roamed through the markets. Once, he approached someone begging for minced fish; after eating his fill, he left. The host looked into the basin, and the fish was alive as before. (Master Zhi once ate minced fish in front of Emperor Wu of the Liang; Emperor Wu viewed it with disapproval and suspicion. Master Zhi thereupon promptly spat into the water, and all saw that the fish was as before, only its tail was slightly damaged. To this day in Jiangling there are 'minced-remnant fish'.) Emperor Wu used harsh punishments; Zhi, borrowing his spiritual power, caused him to see Emperor Gao suffering extreme torment underground (Emperor Gao was Xiao Daocheng), and because of this, [Emperor Wu] abolished the harm caused by awls and knives. In the early Liang, his traces were exceedingly abundant. There was General Chen Zhenglu, who served Zhi with his whole household; Zhi manifested his true form for him, his radiant marks like those of a bodhisattva's image. Some take Guanyin to be Zhi, and nowadays statues are sometimes erected of him (that is, the present Eleven-Faced Guanyin). Indeed, the Great Beings of the Ten Abodes!

he could still become a Buddha of the Ten Epithets (those who first enter the kalpa prior to the stages become the Ten Abodes), how much more so a bodhisattva! Thus, some took [Bao]zhi to be Avalokiteśvara, but it is not necessarily the case that Avalokiteśvara was Zhi (expedient manifestations of sages and worthies are all like this; it is not necessarily only Avalokiteśvara). Zhi often visited Faxiang Yun of Guangzhai; whenever he stayed overnight, he would say: "I wish to explain the Lion's Roar." Yun analysed it for him and snapped his fingers, saying: "Excellent! How subtle!" When close to his end, he lit a candle and handed it to the attendant of the rear pavilion. The Emperor said: "He is entrusting his affairs after death to me." He ordered a lavish burial (namely, he died at Kaishan Temple in the fourteenth year of the Tianjian era of Emperor Wu of Liang). There was Shi Zong, a native of Penglai. Maru, Shao Shuo, and Zhang Nu (these four men were all figures beyond mundane things) were all of his kind. Maru met with Fotudeng; the words they exchanged were quite secret and profound. At that time, people seldom saw Zhang Nu eat, yet his skin was always healthy and glowing; in winter and summer, he wore only a single unlined garment. The foreign cleric Saṅghaṭa was an extraordinary and miraculous man. He lodged at Changgan Temple (in Yangzhou) sharing a room with the monk Sengwu. At night, he took the temple's finial pillar, lifted it up into the clouds, and only then brought it down, enjoining Sengwu not to divulge it (the finial refers to the temple pagoda's spire; Saṅghaṭa did not let Sengwu reveal it to people). Later on the road he saw Zhang Nu (Saṅghaṭa saw him); he smiled with delight and said: "In the east I saw Cai Tun; in the south I sought Ma Sheng; in the north I encountered Wang Nian (all men who concealed their traces). Now I wish to go to Baodu; thus I meet with you." Zhang Nu wrote a poem on a locust tree, saying: "Within the vast Great Form (the expanse of the Dharma realm, where phenomena are boundlessly immense), / Radiance is truly manifested (the spiritual luminosity of original nature ever illumines itself). / Why should the confused and deluded / Give rein to delusion and invite their own calamity? (They cannot recognise the nature of original enlightenment; tumbling into the five desires, their delusion invites calamity. This expresses grief and lamentation over ordinary fools who do not awaken.) / Few are those who go to the place of joy (the realm of the Buddhas ever reaches down to guide; the foolish and ignorant among the worldly refuse to enter); / The path of suffering is like an overturned pouch (sinking into the three woeful paths; once the human body is lost, it can never be regained, just like a water-pouch). / If one does not possess the resolve of pine and cypress, / What can one use to face the wind and frost? (If one lacks firm resolve, how can one confront the myriad sensory objects? When the wind and frost of birth and death arrive, what will one rely upon?) / At leisure, lingering beyond the purple clouds, / Singing a long song that ascends into the clear azure (the clear azure is heaven. This is Zhang Nu's self-expression; namely, casually chanting and delighting in the Way, swimming freely between heaven and earth). / The clear, empty, formless water (the highest good is like water, clear and empty without waves; the myriad conditions unmoving, the waves of consciousness are fundamentally still) / Should manifest in a land of affinity (when affinities in this realm are exhausted, he transforms another realm). / The Year Star assisted the Han sovereign (assisting and supporting; Dongfang Shuo was the essence of the Year Star, descending to assist the sovereign Emperor Wu of Han); / The stellar luminescence aided the Yin king (Fu Yue was the Fu Yue star, descending to assist King Wu Ding of Yin). / As for me, I am neither of these two immortals (saying, 'I am not these two immortals, Shuo and Fu'); / Concealing my traces in the nine directions (the nine directions are the eight directions and above). / I also see the worldly mortals; / Meeting my eyes, it brings aching grief (these two lines express grief). / I make a brief chant to observe their inclinations; / How could I say it exhausts what is held within my breast? (Because my intention resides there, I briefly composed this song. How could it exhaust the capacity of my breast?)" [Saṅgha]ṭa responded with a poem sent to him and delivered a letter (the text has not been seen). When Zhang Nu spoke with [Bei]du, none could understand (this is what Lord Liu's Jia hua calls 'enigmatic words'). For their spirits roamed beyond what is known, and those within could not fathom it (the three realms are all objects of cognition. One suspects this man was beyond the three realms; living now within the three realms, they could not comprehend his discourse). Now, to feign wisdom when foolish is easy, but to feign deafness and conform to ignorance is difficult (words from the Zuo zhuan). Like Baodu and Baozhi, their appearance was different but their minds tallied (a gentleman is harmonious but does not conform). Internally luminous, they were never foolish (internally harmonised with the true realm, how could they be called foolish?); fools called them fools (fools did not comprehend, so they called them fools). Leaving traces without flaunting wisdom, the wise called them wise (concealing their traces while internally illuminating, those who understand know their wisdom). Yet human minds lack constancy; they shift according to circumstances. In general, when things maintain the ordinary, ears and eyes are not alarmed (if not displaying oddities, one cannot turn their consciousness or alarm their ears and eyes). Therefore, amid turbulent currents, one must rely upon extraordinary conduct in order to aid the teaching (in times of shallow and turbulent customs, one ought to display extraordinary conduct as expedient transformation to aid the wind of teaching); it is like the transformations of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning altering the feelings of the myriad creatures (revolution is change. When spring thunder rumbles, hibernating creatures emerge; when the east wind blows, thin ice melts. The top six line of the Hexagram Ge says: 'The gentleman transforms like a leopard; his markings are distinct'). When the scriptures speak of the three mysteries, does it not lie in this? (The three mysteries are speech, conduct, and mind.) However, great Ruists and minor Ruists steal through poetry (great Ruists are noble Ruists; minor Ruists are petty Ruists. Ruists study diligently day and night to await inquiry, cherish loyalty and trustworthiness to await employment, and exert themselves in practice to establish themselves; such is what they do. The minor Ruists of today memorize fragments and isolated words to steal fame and reputation, so they are called thieves); foolish clerics and foolish laypeople steal through the Dharma. Thus there are those who adopt alluring appearances and extravagant, monstrous speech (hence there are fraudulent individuals; the world calls them sages, and thereupon they also steal and imitate alluring appearances and monstrous garments to delude the world, multiplying to great excess). At first they are called wise and sage; in the end they are despised and disgraced (such as the Mountain Fruit or Diamond Chan types, of whom there are many). But among those of utmost faith, the genuine and the fraudulent are both received, and good sprouts are ruined by darnel (good sprouts are grain and millet; grain is fine grain; darnel is weed. Though fine grain is mixed with weeds, it is still called good grain); among the unbelieving, the foolish and the sage are both rejected, and the jade of He is mixed with stone from Yan (an unbelieving person rejects both good and bad, so jade and stone are both discarded; Yan stone resembles jade). For the weeder and the jade polisher, this is truly a cause for grief (the weeder is the farmer; the jade polisher is the lapidary; they grieve over the darnel among grain and the Yan stone with jade). Among the gates of the powerful and noble, rare are those who do not take crude vessels or Qiongqi to be possessors of the Way (crude vessels belong to the category of basins; seeing a class of mediocre monks whose appearance is as rustic as a basin, completely unaware that internally they harbor the cunning and treacherous conduct of Qiongqi, the noble gates promptly consider them possessors of the Way). Valuing their chaotic minds and vulgar appearances, their crude conduct (simply because their robes are dusty and worn, and their speech simple and clumsy, they value them as people of the Way), at first they draw close to them, and next they praise them. When those fools gain favor with the powerful and noble, they become blind to penal statutes; wickedness and deceit are employed, and there is no foolish evil they will not commit. Once it becomes blatant, they themselves do not take their blindness as their fault.

On the contrary, they claim that throughout the realm, none of those who wear the dark robes are worthy (Blind, with no eyes. Having no discrimination themselves, they heedlessly employ treacherous and perverse elements; and when discord becomes evident, they turn around and blame the pure assembly—how is this not confusion? The *Zhiguzi* compares this to being deluded). They use the corrupt to adulterate the pure, mixing fools among the worthy (They equate such ordinary, corrupt types with the pure and immaculate, mixing the foolish and turbid with the worthy heirs). They do not know that there are monks whose traces are remote as the Heavenly Bureau, whose spirits are vacant beyond worldly entanglements, who enter and depart life and death, whose movement and quiescence are without fixed bounds: those whose supreme virtue can attain this (Monks who share in the virtue of Heaven and Earth, slough off dust and defilement, and go where they will without hindrance: their ultimate virtue can reach this). There are monks whose capacity is venerated, whose names are widely proclaimed, masters of doctrine and models of men, whom one can look up to from afar but cannot intimately approach (One can look up to their virtue from afar, but cannot treat them with familiar affection), who are difficult to advance and quick to withdraw (In nature like clouds and cranes, whom the worldly cannot become familiar with): those who rise above the world to attain this. There are monks who maintain minds of kindness and goodness (Caring for creatures and granting joy is called kindness; committing no offense is called goodness), benevolence and forbearance, subduing themselves (Extending benevolence and bestowing benefits is called benevolence; reckoning that meets the standard is called forbearance), yielding so that it reflects back upon themselves (Humbling oneself and restraining oneself is called yielding), rejoicing that fortune is shared with all (That supreme occasions are everywhere plentiful is called rejoicing): their enrichment of creatures is such. As for the leather bag containing a heavenly immortal, or potsherds concealing pearls (A leather bag is hide. When one sees an outward appearance of plain coarseness, one calls it a leather bag or potsherd, not knowing that within are treasured deeds of heavenly immortals and fine gems. Small pearls are called *ji*), though pleased they do not smile, and though righteous they do not take (One who smiles when pleased still has passions stirred; one who takes though righteous still possesses desire: they are not like Gongshu Wenzi and his sort). How could one, based on what one does not know oneself, arbitrarily judge them (Worldly people do not understand the conduct of monks themselves, and yet with preconceived notions recklessly surmise about them)? Thus, though the Sanmiao rebelled against orders, Kui and Long possessed virtue (In the time of Shun, the kingdom of the Sanmiao, with Dongting on its left and Pengli on its right, was disobedient. The Emperor ordered Yu to campaign against them; for a month they did not submit. Yi asked to withdraw and cultivate virtue; in seventy days they came of their own accord. This was virtue of assisting the ruler. Kui and Long were ministers who assisted Shun). Though Xi and He were immersed in drink, the heavenly ordinances were not abolished (The Xi and He clans had for generations held office over Heaven and Earth. Under King Tai Kang's excessive negligence, they became steeped in wine; thus execution was ordered, and the oath said: 'Kill their ringleaders; those compelled to follow will not be punished.' This means using the Sanmiao, Xi, and He to metaphorically represent the treacherous, and Kui, Long, and the celestial ordinances to represent the pure assembly). When evaluating people, if one begins from righteousness, the virtuous and the evil can be known (Observing whether they possess righteousness from the start allows one to know their goodness or evil. *Shu* is good; *te* is evil). If one examines their character through habitual conduct, the foolish and the wise can be discerned (*Su* means previously. *Kuang* is foolish; *zhe* is wise). Hence, if men like Qiao and Zha become monks, they will surely not be like Devadatta or Sunakṣatra (Qiao is Zichan. Zha is Jizi of Yanling. If fine, good gentlemen are made monks, they will surely not perform evil deeds. Devadatta and Sunakṣatra were evil bhikṣus). If Zhuang and Zhi become monks, they will surely not be like Śāriputra or Maudgalyāyana (Zhuang and Zhi were ferocious brigands. Śāriputra is Sāriputra. Shushi is Maudgalyāyana). Why take men like Zhuang and Zhi to be monks at the beginning, and later blame them for not being worthy? Why fail to recognize at the start that there are men like Qiao and Zha among monks, and earlier proclaim they have no virtue? If someone has the caliber of an exemplary gentleman, he will surely make an exemplary monk; if someone has the nature of a low menial, he will surely make a menial monk (Servants of the chariot are lowly men). Therefore, to seek monks based on benevolence can be certain of success; but to seek benevolence from mere monks can hardly be guaranteed (If one seeks among monks based on benevolent conduct, one is sure to find those with benevolent conduct. If one demands benevolent conduct of everyone simply because he is a monk, that is feared to be difficult). Furthermore, if one caused Daoan or Huiyuan to be false (Daoan and Huiyuan), they would surely not be false, for their truthfulness was more than sufficient. If one caused Huisi or Zhiyi to be fierce (Great Dhyāna Master Huisi and Great Master Zhiyi of Tiantai), they would surely not be fierce, for their benevolence was more than sufficient. If one caused Fotudeng or Huishi to be sorcerous (Fotudeng is as above. Huishi was a śramaṇa of the Northern Wei, possessing great spiritual wonders. For over fifty years he never lay down to sleep; even when walking in mud, his feet were not soiled; people called him 'White-footed'), they would surely not be sorcerous, for their spiritual power was more than sufficient. If one caused Sengmin or Zhizang to be sycophantic (Sengmin dwelt on Mount Huqiu. When Xiao Ang of Liang came to pay respect, he would not see him and fled through the back door. When Emperor Wu of Liang dismantled the court boundaries to allow śramaṇas free entry, an official reported that the imperial throne was not fitting for śramaṇas to mount. Zhizang sat cross-legged with indignation, stern in countenance and raising his voice: 'When this poor monk was Master Gu in Wu, I was not yet abashed by the imperial couch,' and so forth), they would surely not be sycophantic, for their uprightness was more than sufficient. For this reason, families of loyalty and filial piety cannot be made to commit disorder; doors of virtuous conduct cannot be made to fall into licentiousness. When Emperor Wen of the Song dynasty fed the sangha, he sat on the floor mat with the assembly; the distribution of food was delayed, and the assembly suspected it was nearing midday and would not eat. The Emperor said: 'It is only just midday.' Master Daosheng said: 'The white sun shines in the heavens; the Emperor says it is just midday, so how could it not be midday?' He then took his bowl and ate, and the entire assembly followed him. The Emperor was greatly pleased (The ruler of ten thousand chariots is the master of the Buddha's Dharma, holding the handles of departure and remaining, possessing the power to kill and give life. If one rigidly clung to minor rules and opposed him, even without the disaster of total abolition, would one not violate the way of respectful compliance? Master Daosheng's insight was profoundly fitting). This is because the great man shares his virtue with Heaven and Earth, and his brightness with the sun and moon; therefore, when he said it was midday, it was indeed midday. How much more should the power of emperors and kings be feared! Thus, when fleeing fire, one does not wait for the governess (A governess is a woman teacher. The wife of a grand master who reached fifty without sons entered the palace as a governess; when rising or sitting she would support her mistress, but once married the mistress would not wait. Boji of Song met with a fire and died waiting for her governess, who did not arrive; this was rigid obstinacy). When saving the drowning, how could one object to grabbing them by the hair (Mencius: If someone's father is drowning, and the son grasps him by the hair to rescue him, it is not considered an excess; this is taking what is fitting according to expediency). When bitten by a viper, how could one mind severing an arm (The viper is a venomous snake; how could one not cherish one's limbs? Yet if bitten by a viper, fearing death, one must sever it). The principle of protecting the Dharma connects with spiritual illumination (For the sake of protecting the Dharma, how could one mind minor matters?). Long ago, when Master Huiyuan was nearing his end, his disciples presented fermented rice drink to be taken with caution (Fermented drink; they caused him to be careful, fearing it would violate the Vinaya); before verifying it with the Vinaya, he passed away (There was no danger, so he acted according to the Dharma). He was strict indeed with himself.