法苑珠林 45

English (machine translation) 45

Language: English

45.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

45.2

Chapter 42: Accepting Remonstrance
Chapter 43: Careful Investigation

45.3

Chapter on Accepting Remonstrance (This has two sections)

Now, when reason is received, speech ceases; when its import is violated, disputation arises. Thus straightforward speech is the root of virtue, and receptive acceptance is the source of practice. Therefore, relying on speech, virtue becomes manifest; through receptive acceptance, practice is made complete. For instance, the eye is deficient in seeing itself, so it must borrow a mirror to view its form; hair is clumsy at arranging itself, so it must employ a comb to untangle itself. Hence, that by which the face takes shape is the power of the bright mirror; that by which the hair is ordered is the efficacy of the dark comb; that by which conduct becomes fragrant is the benefit of words. For this reason, when a person is about to ruin themselves, they will surely not accept the words of correct remonstrance; when one's life is about to end, one can surely not be treated by an excellent physician.

45.6

Section 2: Citing Proofs

45.7

As the Saṃyuktaratnapiṭaka-sūtra says: The Buddha said: In the past, the king of the country of Kāśi was named Evil Receipt. He engaged extensively in unlawful deeds, tormenting the common people with cruelty and lack of principle. From travelling merchants coming from the four distances, he confiscated rare and fine goods by taxation without paying their value. For this reason, precious items in the country became extremely expensive; people spread his evil reputation everywhere. At that time, a parrot king lived in the forest. Hearing travellers on the road speaking of the king's evils, he thought to himself: "Though I am a bird, I still know what is wrong. Now I should go to him and speak of the good path. If that king hears my words, he will surely say: 'Even the king of birds possesses good words; how can a human king suffer his rebuke?' Perhaps he may reform and cultivate himself." He immediately flew high into the king's garden, wheeled around, and descended upon a tree. It happened that the king's consort had entered the garden for recreation. At that time, the parrot flapped his wings, chirped, and spoke to her, saying: "The king is currently tyrannical and extremely devoid of the Way, mutilating the myriad people and inflicting cruelty reaching even to birds and beasts. Sentient beings lament, humans and livestock harbour resentment, and the sounds of wailing are heard throughout the world. The consort's harshness is no different from the king's; how could the father and mother of the people be like this?" Having heard this, the consort flared with anger: "What little bird is this that vilifies me with a mouthful of insults?" She sent men to lie in wait and catch him. At that time, the parrot was neither alarmed nor frightened, entering into the hands of the catcher. When the consort got him, she immediately brought him to the king. The king said to the parrot: "Why did you revile me?" The parrot replied: "I spoke of Your Majesty's unlawfulness only wishing to benefit you; I did not dare to revile Your Majesty." The king then asked: "What unlawfulness is there?" He replied: "There are seven unlawful matters that can endanger Your Majesty's person." He asked: "What are the seven?" He replied: "First, indulging in female beauty and failing to respect the true and upright. Second, being fond of wine and drunken chaos, without caring for state affairs. Third, greedily attached to board games and gambling, without cultivating propriety and respect. Fourth, going on hunts and taking life, entirely devoid of compassion. Fifth, delighting in uttering evil words and never speaking good words. Sixth, doubling the usual regulations for taxes, corvée, and punishments. Seventh, plundering the people's wealth without righteousness and reason. Having these seven matters can endanger Your Majesty's person. Furthermore, there are three matters that will jointly ruin Your Majesty's state." The king asked again: "What are the three matters?" He replied: "First, keeping close to perverse, flatterous, and treacherous people. Second, not associating with the worthy and good, and not accepting good words. Third, delighting in attacking other states and not nurturing the people. If these three are not eliminated, the time of collapse will come either morning or evening. Now, one who is king is someone whom the entire land relies upon; the king should be like a bridge, ferrying across the myriad people. The king should be like a scale, treating both the intimate and the distant with equality. The king should be like a path, not deviating from the footsteps of the sages. The king is like the sun, shining universally on the world. The king is like the moon, bestowing coolness upon things. The king is like father and mother, nurturing with grace and caring with compassion. The king is like heaven, covering all things. The king is like earth, bearing and sustaining all beings. The king is like fire, burning away evil afflictions for the myriad people. The king is like water, moistening the four quarters. You should be like the wheel-turning sage kings of the past, who converted sentient beings by means of the ten paths of good deeds." When the king heard his words, he felt deeply ashamed. "The parrot's words are utterly sincere and truthful. Being a king of men, what I have done was devoid of the Way. I request to follow his teachings, venerate him as my teacher, and receive and cultivate correct practice." At that time, good customs and teaching were put into effect throughout the country, evil reputation disappeared, the consort and ministers all gave rise to loyalty and respect, and not one among the people failed to rejoice. The parrot of that time was my own body; King Evil Receipt of Kāśi of that time is now this prime minister; and the consort of that time is now the prime minister's wife.

45.8

Furthermore, the Satyaka-nirgrantha-sūtra says: At that time King Caṇḍapradyota said, "Great Master, are there beings who are clever, of great wisdom, and of sharp faculties, yet still have faults and transgressions?" He replied, "There are." [The king asked,] "Who are they?" He replied, "Great King, it is you yourself. Your Majesty is exceedingly clever, of great wisdom, of sharp faculties, and sagacious; you possess great prowess and your mind is unfaltering; you delight in dāna and are fully endowed with majestic virtue; yet you also have faults and transgressions." The king said, "Great Master, what are my faults and transgressions?" He replied, "The Great King's faults are being exceedingly ferocious and cruel, overly strict, overly rash, overly unyielding, and overly impulsive. The Great King should know: if the nature of a king's son is excessively bad, he will not be employed by the multitude, will not be loved by the multitude, and will not be liked by the multitude; even his father and mother will take no pleasure in seeing him, let alone other people. Therefore, Great King, you ought not to be excessively bad. In all that you undertake, you should be calm and composed, and you ought not to be overly impulsive." And he spoke a gāthā:

45.9

"If a king engages in evil deeds,
With an angry mind he cannot see affairs as they are;
His movements terrify living beings,
To the point that even his father and mother fear him.
How much less would others who are not kin
Ever harbor love and affection for him?
The Great King should know:
A wise person abandons anger."

45.10

At that time King Caṇḍapradyota, sitting face to face with him, heard the Nirgrantha revile himself; an unbearable feeling arose in his heart, his angry mind became displeased, and thoughts of harm arose. He immediately said, "Satyaka Nirgrantha, how can you speak of my faults and failings amidst the great assembly? From past times until now, no one has dared to look directly at me. Now you defame me; your crime deserves death!" Having spoken these words, he commanded the ministers, saying, "You must seize him and cut off his life-faculty!" The Nirgrantha was terrified and said, "Great King, do not act with such sudden malice now! I have good words. May the King grant me fearlessness for a brief moment and hear what I have to say." The king said, "What do you have to say? Speak quickly!" The Nirgrantha replied, "The Great King should know that I too have a fault: it comes from speaking too truthfully, not speaking falsely, and speaking according to fact. Because I am thus, before a greatly wicked person, before an impatient person, before a person devoid of compassion, before a person who acts impulsively—before such a person—I spoke such true words. The Great King should know that a sagacious person ought not to constantly speak true words at all times and in all places. One should carefully discern who can be spoken to and who cannot be spoken to, when it is the time to speak and when it is not the time to speak. You should know that true words are not loved by worldly people and are not praised as good." And he spoke a gāthā:

45.11

"If a wise person does not know the proper time,
And hastily speaks truth according to his whim,
He is rebuked by the wise;
How much more so by the foolish!
In all places, the wise
Do not always speak truth either;
Due to truth Kauśika,
By truthful words entered the evil destinies."

45.12

At that time, the king, hearing the Nirgrantha speak of his own faults and transgressions, immediately attained understanding, turned with sincerity, and made deśanā.

45.13

Furthermore, the Kalpanāmaṇḍitikā says: The Buddha said, "I once heard that in the past there was a Qiang old mother who went into the forest to gather leaves of the palāśa tree to sell them to support herself. Her path passed through a customs barrier, and the customs guard demanded a toll from her. At that time, the old mother did not wish to pay the toll and said to him, 'If you can bring me before the king, you may obtain the toll; if not, I will never give it to you.' Thereupon the customs guards, disputing and clamoring together, went before the king. The king asked the old mother, 'Why do you now refuse to pay the border toll?' The old mother addressed the king, 'Does the King know such-and-such a bhikṣu?' The king said, 'I know him; he is a great arhat.' She further asked, 'Does the King also know the second bhikṣu?' The king said, 'I know him; he too is an arhat.' She further asked, 'Does the King also know the third bhikṣu?' The king replied, 'I know him; he too is an arhat.' Raising her voice, the old mother addressed the king, 'These three arhats are all my sons. When these sons receive the King's offerings, they enable the Great King to receive immeasurable merit. This is what constitutes giving toll-goods to the King; how could you further wish to levy and seize from me?' When the king heard this, he praised it as unprecedented: 'Splendid, old mother, that you could give birth to holy sons! I truly did not know that those arhats were your sons. I should increase offerings and reverence toward you, old mother.' He then spoke a gāthā:

45.14

"I gave birth to three sons,
Valiant, transcending the tridhātu;
All have realized the fruit of the arhat,
Acting as puṇyakṣetras for the world.
When the king makes offerings to them,
The merit gained matches the goods of the toll;
How then can you now wish
To tax and seize what is mine?"

45.15

When the king heard this gāthā, the hairs on his body stood on end. In the presence of the Three Jewels, he gave rise to faith and reverence, and with flowing tears he said, "Such an old mother should be furnished with increased offerings, let alone having her goods taxed!"

45.16

Furthermore, the Old Samyuktāvadāna-sūtra says: In the past, there was a śramaṇa who traveled to another country. At night, unable to enter the city, he sat outside among the grasses. When night arrived, a yakṣa demon came to seize him to eat him. The śramaṇa said, "You and I are far apart from each other!" The demon said, "Why do you consider us far apart?" The śramaṇa said, "You wish to harm me; I will be reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, while you will enter hell. Is this not far apart?" The demon then apologized, made obeisance, and departed.

45.17

Furthermore, the Mātaṅgī-sūtra says: At that time, Ānanda, carrying his alms bowl, having finished begging for food, walked along the water's edge. He saw a woman carrying water by the water's edge, and Ānanda begged water from the woman. The woman then gave him water. The woman followed Ānanda, watching where he stayed. The woman returned and told her mother; her mother's name was Mātaṅgī. The woman then threw herself down in the house, lying down and weeping. The mother asked why she was crying sorrowfully. The girl said, "If Mother wishes to marry me off, do not give me to another. By the water's edge I saw a śramaṇa who begged water from me. I asked who he was, and he answered that his name was Ānanda. Only if I get Ānanda can I marry; if I do not get him, I will not marry." The mother went out to inquire about Ānanda, and learned that Ānanda was one who served the Buddha. Having found out, the mother returned and told her daughter, "Ānanda is a man of the Way who serves the Buddha; he will not agree to be your husband." The girl wept and would not eat. The mother knew black magic (gu). She invited Ānanda to a meal. The girl was then overjoyed. The mother said to Ānanda, "My daughter wishes to be your wife." Ānanda said, "I uphold the precepts and do not keep a wife." She said again, "If my daughter cannot have you as a husband, she will commit suicide." Ānanda said, "My teacher is the Buddha; I do not have sexual relations with women." The mother went in and told the daughter, recounting this intention in full. The daughter wept before her mother, saying, "Just shut the door for me and do not let him get out; in the evening he will naturally become my husband." The mother then shut the door and, using the arts of black magic, bound Ānanda until late afternoon. The mother spread mats and prepared a sleeping place for the daughter. The daughter was then overjoyed and adorned herself. Ānanda would not comply. The mother caused fire to emerge from the ground in the courtyard, pulled Ānanda's robe, and said, "If you do not become my daughter's husband, I will throw you into the fire." Ānanda reproached himself: "Having become a śramaṇa for the Buddha, now contrary [to my vows] I cannot escape!" The Buddha then used spiritual powers, knowing Ānanda's mind, and rescued him. Ānanda returned to the Buddha's place and reported in full what had happened before. Seeing Ānanda leave, the girl wept incessantly in the house, continuously longing for Ānanda. The next day, the girl sought Ānanda on her own. She saw Ānanda walking again to beg for food; she followed behind Ānanda, gazing at Ānanda's feet and looking at Ānanda's face. Ānanda felt ashamed and avoided her, but the girl followed him without stopping. Ānanda addressed the Buddha, "The Mātaṅgī girl is again following behind me today." The Buddha sent someone to pursue and call her. The Buddha asked the girl, saying, "You chase after Ānanda; what is it that you seek?" The girl said, "I heard that Ānanda has no wife, and I also have no husband. I wish to be his wife." The Buddha told the girl, "Ānanda has no hair, but now you have hair. If you can shave your hair, I will make Ānanda your husband." The girl said, "I can shave it." The Buddha said, "Return and inform your mother; when you have finished shaving your head, come back." The girl returned and fully informed her mother. The mother said, "I gave birth to you and protected your hair; why do you wish to have a śramaṇa as a husband? There are plenty of wealthy and noble people in this country; I will marry you off myself." The girl said, "Whether I live or die, I would rather be Ānanda's wife." The mother said, "You bring shame upon my clan." The mother applied the razor and shaved her head. The girl returned to the Buddha's place and said, "I have shaved my hair." The Buddha said, "What do you love about Ānanda?" The girl said, "I love Ānanda's eyes, I love Ānanda's nose, I love Ānanda's mouth, I love Ānanda's ears, I love Ānanda's voice, and I love Ānanda's gait." The Buddha said, "In the eyes there are only tears; in the nose there is only mucus; in the mouth there is only saliva; in the ears there is only earwax; in the body there are only feces and urine, a foul and impure place. When there is husband and wife, there is filthy fluid. From filthy fluid children are born. Once there are children, there is death. Once there is death, there is weeping. What benefit is there in this body?" The girl then contemplated the filthy fluids within the body, straightened her mind, and immediately attained the state of an arhat. The Buddha, knowing she had attained the Way, told the girl, "Rise and go to Ānanda's place." The girl was then ashamed, bowed her head, knelt upright before the Buddha, and said, "I was truly foolish, which is why I pursued Ānanda. Now my mind has opened, like having a lamp in the dark, like a person riding a boat which breaks, relying on the shore, like a blind person receiving support, like an old person holding a staff. Now the Buddha has granted me the Way, causing my mind to open." Thereupon the bhikṣus together asked the Buddha, "By what cause did this woman attain the Way?" The Buddha told the bhikṣus, "In past lives, this Mātaṅgī girl was Ānanda's wife for five hundred lives, and they always loved and respected each other. Therefore, within my Dharma, she attained the Way. Now when husband and wife meet, they are like elder and younger brothers. When the Buddha's Way is like this, what can it not accomplish?" The Buddha spoke this sūtra, and having heard it, all the bhikṣus were greatly delighted.

45.18

Furthermore, the Avadānaśataka says: When the Buddha was in the world, in the city of Śrāvastī there was a brāhmaṇa named Brahmā. He possessed wide learning and eloquence, and clearly understood the sūtras and treatises; there were none among the four Vedic scriptures that he did not master. His wife gave birth to a daughter who was exceptionally upright and wondrous, with wisdom and eloquence that none could equal. Hearing the various brāhmaṇas debating with her father, she could retain everything without missing a single word. In this way, as time passed, what she had heard became exceedingly vast; when senior elders all came to consult her, there was nothing she did not comprehend. Hearing that in the world there was a Buddha who had just attained saṃbodhi and was converting living beings, she sought to receive the flavor of the Dharma. She immediately adorned herself and went to the Buddha's place. Seeing the Buddha, she generated the resolve and sought to leave the household life. The Buddha said, "Welcome, bhikṣuṇī!" Her hair fell away of itself, and the kāṣāya was draped upon her body; she became a bhikṣuṇī. Diligently cultivating, she attained the fruit of an arhat.

45.19

Ānanda, having seen this, addressed the Buddha, "What merit did this bhikṣuṇī Sumanā plant in the past, that now she encounters the Buddha, leaves the household life, and attains the Way?" The Buddha told Ānanda, "In this Bhadrakalpa, there was a Buddha who appeared in the world named Kāśyapa. After he entered nirvāṇa, during the Semblance Dharma, there was a bhikṣuṇī whose mind was always joyful in expounding the Dharma and converting others, diligent without laxity. She then made a vow: 'May I, in a future life within the Dharma of Śākyamuni Buddha, clearly understand the sūtras and treatises.' Having made this vow, she ended her life and was reborn among devas and humans, with cleverness and wisdom that none could equal. Now she has encountered me, left the household life, and attained the Way, foremost in wide learning." Having heard this, the bhikṣus joyfully received and practiced it.

45.20

Furthermore, the Madhyama-āgama says: "Dhyāna has sound as its thorn. The World-Honoured One also taught that sound is a thorn. Why is this? In truth, I teach that dhyāna has thorns: For one who upholds the precepts, violating the precepts is a thorn. For one who guards the sense faculties, adorning the body is a thorn. For one who cultivates [contemplation of] impurities, signs of purity are a thorn. For one who cultivates a mind of loving-kindness, anger is a thorn. For one who abstains from alcohol, drinking alcohol is a thorn. For one who practices brahma-conduct, seeing female form is a thorn. For one who enters the first dhyāna, sound is a thorn. For one who enters the second dhyāna, initial and sustained thought are thorns. For one who enters the third dhyāna, joy is a thorn. For one who enters the fourth dhyāna, inhalation and exhalation are thorns. For one who enters the sphere of infinite space, perception of form is a thorn. For one who enters the sphere of infinite consciousness, perception of the sphere of space is a thorn. For one who enters the sphere of nothingness, perception of the sphere of consciousness is a thorn. For one who enters the sphere of neither-perception-nor-non-perception, perception of the sphere of nothingness is a thorn. For one who enters the cessation of perception and sensation, perception and sensation are thorns. Furthermore, there are three thorns: the thorn of desire, the thorn of anger, and the thorn of delusion. These three thorns have already been severed and fully known by the arhat whose outflows are exhausted; having uprooted their foundation, they are extinguished and do not arise again. This is called the thornless arhat." (Removing these thorns is called accepting admonition.)

45.21

Furthermore, the Dayushi jing says: At that time, the World-Honoured One told the monks: "In the past, there was a pool of water abundant with large fish. At that time, the large fish instructed the small fish, saying: 'Do not leave this place to go elsewhere, lest you be caught by evil men.' At that time, the small fish did not heed the instruction of the large fish and went off to another place. At that time, a fisherman used cooked rice, nets, and lines to catch the fish. When the small fish saw this, they ran back toward where the large fish was. Seeing the small fish approaching, the large fish asked them, 'Did you not leave this place and go to another place?' The small fish then replied to the large fish, 'We went to another place just now.' The large fish then instructed the small fish, saying: 'Since you went to another place, were you not caught in the nets?' The small fish answered the large fish, 'When we arrived there, we were not caught by men. However, looking back from a distance, we saw a long line following behind us.' The large fish then told the small fish, 'You are already doomed. Why is that? That which you saw from afar, the line following behind, was what all your ancestors and parents were killed by in the past. If you saw it, you will surely be killed. You are no children of mine.' At that time, the small fish were all caught by the fisherman and hauled onto the bank. In this way, a great many small fish died." (Due to not accepting instruction, they were harmed by the net.)

45.22

Furthermore, the Mahāsaṃghika-vinaya says: The Buddha told the monks: In a past age, there was a city named Vārāṇasī in the country of Kāśi. At that time, there was a brāhmaṇa who set up a charitable well in the wilderness so that herdsmen and travelers could all come to the well to drink and also bathe. As the day drew toward evening, a pack of jackals came to the well to drink the remaining water on the ground. There was a jackal chieftain who would not drink the water on the ground; instead, he inserted his head into the jug to drink water. After drinking, he raised his head high with the jug on it and slammed it down, shattering the earthenware jug, though the rim of the jug still encircled his neck. The other jackals said to the jackal chieftain, 'Even a wet tree leaf that is useful should be preserved; how much more so this jug that benefits travelers! Why break it?' The jackal chieftain said, 'I find pleasure in this. As long as my heart is pleased, what do I care about others' affairs?' At that time, a traveler told the brāhmaṇa, 'Your jug has been broken.' He replaced it again, but just as before, it was broken by the jackal, up to fourteen times. The other jackals repeatedly admonished him, yet he still would not accept their words. Then the brāhmaṇa thought to himself, 'Who is breaking the jugs? I must go and watch.' Seeing that it was indeed a jackal, he thought: 'This is my well of meritorious virtue, yet it creates obstruction.' So he made a wooden jug that was sturdy and hard to break, designed so that the head could enter easily but be difficult to withdraw. He placed it beside the well and, holding a stick, hid in a concealed place to watch. When the travelers finished drinking, the jackal chieftain entered to drink as before. Having finished drinking, he slammed it against the ground, but could not break it. Then the brāhmaṇa struck and killed him with the stick. In mid-air, a deva spoke this verse:

45.23

"Good friends speak with compassionate hearts,
Yet the obstinate refuse admonition.
Clinging to stubbornness brings this calamity,
Forfeiting one's own life.
Therefore the foolish jackal
Suffered this agony of the wooden jug."

45.24

The Buddha told the monks: "The jackal chieftain at that time was Devadatta today. The pack of jackals at that time were the monks who now admonish Devadatta. You should know that in the past he already refused the gentle words of good friends and forfeited his own life; now he again refuses the admonitions of the monks, and will fall into the evil destinies to suffer torment through the long night."

45.25

A verse says:

45.26

The wise accept admonition;
The foolish resist and transgress.
It is like a bright mirror
Reflecting flaws and blemishes.
Seeing a fault, one must reform,
Aspiring to discern the impending sign.
Stubborn, senseless, and obstinate,
In distress, upon what can one rely?

45.27

Chapter 43: Careful Scrutiny (This has four sections)

45.28

Section on Expressing the Intent
Section on Scrutinizing Anger
Section on Scrutinizing Faults
Section on Scrutinizing Learning

45.29

Section 1: Expressing the Intent

45.30

Now, the sage benefits beings by scrutinizing cognitive objects and observing the mind, tuning consciousness and emotion at the place of jewels, and operating between the provisional and the real within the city of delusions. Therefore, unless scrutiny relies on wisdom, there is no way to fathom the real; unless wisdom relies on scrutiny, there is no way to discern its illumination. Thus, the source of illumination and discernment is the essential pivot of careful scrutiny. Hence, there are no phenomena not conditioned upon, no objects not scrutinized. Only after conditioning upon phenomena and scrutinizing objects does one know that they converge toward profound efficacy and mutually nurture all phenomena.

45.31

Section 2: Scrutinizing Anger

45.32

As the Mahāsaṃghika-vinaya says: The Buddha told the monks: In a past age, there was a brāhmaṇa whose family was poor. His wife did not give birth to children. There was a mongoose in the house, which then gave birth to a young one. Because he had no child, the brāhmaṇa raised it with the thought of it being his child. The young mongoose also regarded the brāhmaṇa with the thought of him being its father. Later, the wife became pregnant and, when her months were complete, gave birth to a son. She then thought: 'Because of the mongoose, an auspicious son was born, granting me a child.' When the brāhmaṇa was about to go out begging for food, he instructed his wife, saying: 'If you go out, you must take the child along; do not leave him behind.' Later, after feeding the child, the wife went to a neighboring house to borrow a mortar to pound grain. At that time, the small child smelled of ghee and curd. A venomous snake, following the scent, arrived, opening its mouth and spitting venom, intending to kill the child. The mongoose then thought: 'My father has gone out, and my mother is also not here. How can this venomous snake seek to kill my younger brother?' It then killed the venomous snake, cutting it into seven pieces, [thinking,] 'When my parents know, they will surely reward me.' With blood smeared on its mouth, it stood before the door, wishing to make its parents rejoice upon seeing it. At that time, the brāhmaṇa was just returning from outside. Seeing his wife outside the house, he said in anger, 'I instructed you that when going out you must take the child along; why did you go alone?' When the father was about to enter the door, he saw blood on the mongoose's mouth. He immediately thought: 'While my wife and I were away, could it be that it killed and ate my child? In vain did I raise this creature!' He immediately stepped forward and beat it to death. Upon entering the house, he saw his own child sucking his fingers and playing, and also saw the venomous snake in seven pieces on the ground. The brāhmaṇa deeply reproached himself with anguish: 'This mongoose had such human feeling as to save my child's life! Without observing carefully, I killed it abruptly. How grievous! How pitiful!' Overcome with grief, he collapsed to the ground. In mid-air, a deva immediately spoke a verse:

45.33

"One should observe with careful scrutiny,
And not act in sudden, violent anger.
Severing the affection of good friends,
One wrongfully harms the good and faithful—
Just as that brāhmaṇa
Killed that mongoose."

45.34

Furthermore, the Sūtra on Prince Mūkapakkha Spoken by the Buddha says: The Buddha told the monks, "In the past there was a country named Vārāṇasī. The king had a crown prince named Mūkapakkha. At his birth he bore boundlessly excellent marks, dignified, upright, fine, and pure, without equal. His parents marvelled at him, providing for and looking after him, intending to name him when he grew up. He tied his tongue and did not speak for thirteen years. Placid, simple, and unadorned, his mind was like dead ashes and his body like withered wood. His ears did not listen to sounds; his eyes did not look at sights. In appearance he resembled a mute, deaf, or blind man. Thereupon his royal father was grieved and distressed by this. The king said to his queen, 'What shall we do? This son will surely be ridiculed by other countries.' The queen said to the king, 'We should summon a physiognomist and have him read his signs.' The king then summoned a brahman master to read his signs. The brahman said, 'This child is not an ordinary man of the world, but merely a misleading apparition. Outwardly dignified and handsome, within he harbors ill fortune. He should be eliminated and cast out by the state before long; he must not be raised. He should be buried alive, executed, and killed. If this child is not eliminated now, I fear that later you will have no other heir.' Thereupon the queen deferred to whatever the king would do. The king then summoned the great ministers of the state to deliberate together. One minister said, 'Just abandon him in the deep mountains, where there are no people.' One minister said, 'Cast him into deep water.' One minister said, 'Just follow the master's words: dig into the earth to make a deep pit and bury him alive.' The king then summoned more than two thousand outer defensive soldiers of the state and had them dig the earth to make an underground chamber, furnishing it with twenty years' worth of stored provisions. Then the prince's servants, precious gems, and necklaces were all returned to the prince. Thereupon the queen was brokenhearted, [saying,] 'I alone am without fortune; my child was born with an ill-fated life to meet such disaster. There is nothing to be done.' Thereupon they sent the prince into the main hall. Five hundred queens came to look upon the prince; seeing that the prince was dignified, upright, fine, and pure, without equal, they said, 'Why does the prince not speak, so that he is to be buried alive?' Five hundred court ladies came to look upon the prince; seeing that the prince was dignified, upright, fine, and pure, without equal, they said, 'Why does the prince not speak, so that he is to be buried alive?' Each performed music for the prince. The prince remained silent, neither watching nor listening. Thereupon they sent the prince to the outer hall. Five hundred ministers came to look upon the prince. Seeing that the prince was dignified, upright, and pure, they rushed to report to the great king, 'This child is not someone who cannot speak. Please retain him for a short while; speech will come before long. The brahman master cannot be trusted.' The king said, 'This is a state affair, not for you ministers to know.' When the chamber was completed, they came to fetch the prince. The king said to his servants, 'Have the prince ride an elephant-drawn carriage with a four-way view, so that the people of the state may see the prince; the prince ought to speak. If he speaks, have him brought back.' Thereupon the prince rode the carriage along the road. At that time the elder ministers of the state rolled on the ground before the carriage, [saying,] 'The prince must speak a single word! If you do not speak, crush us with the carriage and go over!' The imperial guards escorted him and helped him pass. At that time tens of millions of people surrounded him, so that the prince could advance no further. Flying birds and running beasts circled the chamber three times and blocked its doorway, so that the prince again could not advance. He then raised his hand, stopped, and said: 'If I truly wish not to speak, I am to be buried alive; if I truly wish to utter words, I fear falling into hell. The reason I did not speak was that I wished to preserve my body whole and avoid harm, to save my spirit and leave suffering behind—this is why I did not speak. Yet you believed deceitful words, supposing I was deaf and blind, or genuinely mute!' At that time, when the people heard the prince's wondrously exquisite voice, those walking stopped, and those sitting stood up; all stepped forward and kowtowed, [saying,] 'We pray you forgive our transgressions!' His servants, hearing this, leaped for joy and rushed to report to the great king, 'The prince has spoken! His voice penetrates above to the blue heavens and below to the Yellow Springs! Flying birds and running beasts have all come to prostrate and listen before the prince! Because the prince has spoken, [all are] leaping for joy!' The king then, along with the queen, rode an elephant-drawn carriage with a four-way view to welcome the prince. Looking back and seeing his royal father, the prince dismounted from the carriage, stepped aside from the road, bowed four times, and stood up, [saying,] 'I have troubled and inconvenienced the Great King to come from afar to welcome me. But now father and son have abandoned each other in this life, our affection is already severed, and righteousness is severely violated; it is not fitting that we look upon one another.' The king said to the prince, 'No, no! You are a wise person and should pardon our failings. Return to the country with us; I will confer the throne upon you and withdraw myself.' The prince replied, 'In my previous life I was already a king; because my conduct had defiling flaws, I fell into hell for more than sixty thousand years. Being steamed, boiled, sliced, and torn was so painful it was hard to bear. Could my parents know my suffering or not? I loathed and feared hell; therefore I tied my tongue and did not speak for thirteen years, hoping to escape beyond the worldly dust, not to encounter sin, and to distance myself from unrighteous ways, soaring high and departing afar to save myself from the world. The world is impermanent, fleeting like a dream; the pleasures of home and family last but an instant. Sorrow and suffering are protracted; joy and pleasure are only momentary. Since the King understands the extremity of the matter, only permit me to study the Way.' Thereupon the prince abandoned the state and renounced kingship, entered the mountains to seek the Way, and practiced meditation. When his life ended, he was immediately born in Tuṣita Heaven. When his merit was exhausted, he descended to be born among humans as the crown prince to the king of the state of Kapilavastu. The prince knew himself that he would become a Buddha. The Buddha told Ānanda, 'The Prince Mūkapakkha at that time was myself; the king was Śuddhodana; the queen was Māyā; the five servants were Ajñātakauṇḍinya and the others; and the brahman at that time was Devadatta. Devadatta has had enmity with me life after life.' All the devas, dragons, and spirits leaped for joy, made obeisance, and departed."

45.35

Section 3: Investigating Errors

45.36

As the Sūtra on the Causes and Conditions of the Transmission of the Dharma Pitaka says: At that time, in the city of Saurasena, there was a merchant master who held a great pañcavārṣika assembly for the Saṃgha. There was a nun who had attained arhatship; she observed who in the assembly was a field of merit, and further considered who was the head of the Saṃgha. She saw that the arhats and trainees had long severed their afflictions and were worthy to receive offerings. She observed a monk named Aśala, who had not yet attained liberation, occupying the very head of the assembly. The nun then went and said to him, 'Venerable, today you ought to adorn yourself.' At that time this monk did not comprehend her meaning, so he put on clean robes, combed his hair, and bathed. Later, this nun again told him to adorn himself. Aśala became extremely enraged, [saying,] 'I complied with your words and adorned and cleansed myself exceedingly. What is so ugly and vile that you repeatedly utter such words?' The nun said, 'Venerable, you should know that this is worldly adornment, not the Buddha's Dharma. Adornment in the Buddha's Dharma means attaining the four fruits. How strange, Venerable, that you are so frivolous and base! The elder has arranged an assembly with many worthy ones and noble ones; you are the head of the Saṃgha, yet you have not escaped birth and death, and with an outflow-tainted mind you are the first to receive offerings. Therefore I now wish to awaken you.' Monk Aśala, having heard this, wept bitterly and grieved, reflecting on himself, 'I am old and decrepit; how could I exhaust my defilements?' The nun said, 'The Buddha's Dharma has no fixed time; does it discriminate between the robust and the aged?' Having heard these words, he went to Upagupta, who immediately preached the Dharma for him, and he became an arhat. There was also a monk whose nature was fond of food and drink; due to this greed, he was unable to attain the Way. Upagupta invited him to his room and gave him fragrant milk porridge, telling him to wait until it cooled before eating it. The monk blew on the porridge with his mouth, and it quickly cooled. He said to the Venerable, 'The porridge has cooled.' The Venerable said to him, 'Although this porridge is cool, your fire of desire is hot. You should use the water of contemplation to extinguish the fire in your mind.' He then used an empty bowl to make him vomit the food out. After he had vomited the food out, he had him eat it again. The monk answered, 'It has mixed with saliva; how could I eat it?' The Venerable said to him, 'All food is no different from this. Without contemplating it, you falsely give rise to greed and attachment. You must now contemplate the impurity of food.' He then preached the Dharma for him, and he attained the path of an arhat.

45.37

Furthermore, the Sūtra of a Hundred Parables says: In the past there were two piśāca demons who shared a chest, a staff, and a pair of clogs. The two demons fought with each other, each wishing to obtain two of them. The two demons squabbled all day long without being able to settle the matter. At that time, a man came, saw this, and asked them, 'What is so extraordinary about this chest, staff, and clogs that you quarrel and become so enraged with each other?' The two demons replied, 'This chest of ours can produce all clothing, food and drink, beddings, mattresses, and articles for sustaining life; they all come forth from it. As for the one who holds this staff, his enemies submit to him and none dare quarrel with him. As for the one who wears these clogs, they enable a person to fly through the air without hindrance.' Having heard this, the man said to the demons, 'Step back a little, and I will divide them equally for you.' The demons, hearing his words, immediately withdrew to a distance. The man then took the chest in his arms, grasped the staff, stepped into the clogs, and flew away. The two demons were stunned and in the end obtained nothing. The man said to the demons, 'That over which you quarrelled I have already taken away; now I have caused you to have nothing more to quarrel about.' The piśācas are a metaphor for the hosts of Māra and non-Buddhists. Giving is like the chest: the articles for the use of humans and devas in the five destinies all come forth from it. Meditation is like the staff: it subdues the enemies of Māra and the thieves of defilement. Upholding the precepts is like the clogs: one will surely ascend to the realms of humans and devas. The demons and non-Buddhists quarrelling over the chest is a metaphor for stubbornly seeking retributions within the realm of outflows, ending up empty-handed and obtaining nothing. If one can practice good deeds, giving, upholding precepts, and meditation, one will leave suffering behind and obtain the fruit of the Way.

45.38

Section 4: Investigating Learning

45.39

As the Old Sūtra of Miscellaneous Parables says: In the past, two men studied the Way under a master. Together they went to another country, and on the road they saw elephant tracks. One man said, 'This is a female elephant carrying a female fetus. The elephant is blind in one eye. On the elephant is a woman pregnant with a female child.' The other man said, 'How do you know this?' He replied, 'I know it through thoughtful reflection. If you do not believe it, go forward and see.' Both caught up with the elephant, and it was entirely as he had said. The other man thought to himself, 'I studied under the master together with you; how is it that I alone did not see it, while you alone knew it?' Later they returned and reported to the master. The master expounded on it again, and summoned the one man, asking, 'By what reason did you know this?' He replied, 'It is what the master always taught us: I saw where the elephant urinated on the ground and knew it was a female elephant; I saw that its right foot stamped deeper into the ground and knew it was carrying a female fetus; I saw that the grass on the right side of the road was undisturbed and knew its right eye was blind; I saw where the elephant stopped there was [human] urine and knew it was a woman; I saw her right foot trod deeper into the ground and knew she was carrying a female child. I merely deliberated upon it with subtle and meticulous thought.' The master said, 'In learning, one must attain thoroughness through steady and careful reflection.'

45.40

Furthermore, the Sūtra of a Hundred Parables says: For example, suppose a man grinds a large stone, diligently exerting effort, passing through months and days, only to make a small toy ox. His exertion of effort was heavy, but what he aimed for was trifling. People of the world are also like this: grinding the large stone is a metaphor for studying and inquiring with diligent and painful labor; making the small ox is a metaphor for seeking fame and disputing right and wrong with one another. Those who pursue learning should deliberate with precision and subtlety, attaining broad understanding and vast knowledge; they ought to put it into practice and seek superior fruits from afar. If they merely seek reputation, arrogance, and haughtiness, their faults and troubles will only increase.

45.41

Furthermore, the Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra says: There was a man who, at all times, whenever he saw an unusual matter, would examine and inquire into it thoroughly. Later, while traveling on a road through a wilderness, he encountered a rākṣasa who seized him. Seeing that he had been seized, the man knew he was certain to die without doubt. However, seeing that the rākṣasa's chest was white and its back was black, he wondered and asked the reason. The rākṣasa replied, 'Throughout my whole life I have not liked seeing the sun; therefore I always walk with my back to the sun. Hence my front is white and my back is black.' The man grasped the meaning: he quickly yanked his hand free and ran toward the sun. The rākṣasa turned his face toward the sun and could not see the man. The man thus escaped. Thereupon he spoke a verse:

45.42

Diligent study is the foremost path; / Diligent inquiry is the foremost method. / Meeting the danger of a rākṣasa on the road, / One turns one's back to the shade and faces the bright sun.

45.43

The verse says:

45.44

Examine right and wrong carefully; / The clear and turbid are hard to fathom. / Skillfully observe the heterodox and orthodox, / And adroitly apply rules and guidelines. / If internal anger leads to wanton punishment, / How can external disputes cease? / We pray you clarify your heart and mind, / And examine thoroughly with the power of wisdom.

45.45

Accounts of Sympathetic Resonance (briefly citing three proofs):

45.46

Proof from the Bowuzhi
Proof from the Baize tu
Proof from the Baopuzi

45.47

The Bowuzhi says: "On small mountains there are kui; their shape is like a drum, they have one foot, and they know ritual etiquette. In marshes there are weishe; their form is like a wheel hub, and their length is like a carriage shaft. He who sees one shall become an autocrat. Anciently, when Yu of the Xia surveyed the River, he saw a tall being with a fish's body, who came forth and said, 'I am the essence of the River.' Was he not the River Earl?"

45.48

The Baize tu says: "The essence of the latrine is named Yi; it wears green clothes and holds a white staff. If one knows its name and calls it, it will be eliminated; if one does not know its name, one dies. Furthermore, if a house is built and left unoccupied for three years, within it will be Manchao; it is two feet tall, and whenever it sees a person it covers its face. To see it brings good fortune. Furthermore, if a house is built and left unoccupied for three years, its essence is named Hu; it is seven feet tall, and he who sees it receives good fortune. Furthermore, if a house is built and left unoccupied for three years, within it will be a small child, three feet tall and without hair; whenever it sees a person it covers its nose. To see it brings good fortune. Furthermore, the essence of fire is named Bifang; its form is like a bird with one foot. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of wood is named Penghou; its form is like a black dog without a tail, and it can be cooked and eaten. Furthermore, inside a thousand-year-old tree there is an insect named Jiaqu; its form is like a piglet with two heads. Cooked and eaten, its flavor is like dog meat. Furthermore, the essence generated between the geographic features where there are mountain forests above and river springs below is named Bifang; its form is like a bird with a long tail. This is generated by the transformations of yin and yang. Furthermore, the essence of jade is named Daiwei; its form is that of a beautiful woman wearing green clothes. When seeing it, prick it with the tip of a peach branch and call its name, and you will capture it. Furthermore, the essence of gold is named Cang...; its form is like a piglet, and it dwells in people's houses, causing things to be disadvantageous for the wife. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of water is named Wangxiang; its form is like a small child with red eyes, a black body, large ears, and long claws. If one binds it with a rope, it can be captured; cooking it brings good auspiciousness. Furthermore, the essence of an old gate is named Ye; its form is like a dwarf, and whenever it sees someone it bows. If one calls it by its name, it brings benefit in food and drink. Furthermore, the essence of an old marsh is named Chu; its form is like a snake with one body and two heads, adorned with five-colored patterns. If one calls it by its name, it can be ordered to fetch gold and silver. Furthermore, the essence of an old abandoned mound or grave is named Wu; its form is like an old corvée laborer, wearing green clothes, holding a pestle, and fond of pounding. If one calls it by its name, it causes one to have good grain crops. Furthermore, the essence of an old road or path is named Ji; its form is like a rustic singing while walking. If one calls it by its name, it causes people not to lose their way. Furthermore, the essence of an old carriage is named Ningye; its form is like a covered wen carriage. Seeing it harms people's eyes; if one calls it by its name, it cannot harm one's eyes. Furthermore, the essence residing on roads is named Zuoqi; its form is like a man, and it is skilled at deceiving people. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of an old mortar is named Yi; its form is like a piglet. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of an old well or an old pool is named Guan; its form is like a beautiful woman fond of playing the flute. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence where water is cut off and there is gold is named Houbo; its form is like a person, five feet tall, wearing five-colored clothes. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of an old tower or house is named Lianggui; its form is like a red dog. If one calls it by its name, it makes people's eyes clear. Furthermore, where water springs up amidst mountain stones on the left and right, and its ravine stream flows forth for a thousand years without ceasing, its essence is named Xi; its form is like a small black child. If one calls it by its name, it can be ordered to fetch food and drink. Furthermore, the essence where the three armies fought is named Binman; its form is like a human head without a body, with red eyes, which spins whenever it sees a person. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of old waters and rocks is named Qingji; its form is like a person riding in a canopied carriage, racing a thousand li in a single day. If one calls it by its name, it can be ordered to enter the water and catch fish. Furthermore, the essence of mounds and graves is named Langgui; it is fond of fighting with people without rest. Make an arrow from peach and bramble fletched with eagle feathers to shoot it; the Langgui will transform into a whirlwind. If you take off your shoe and throw it at it, it cannot transform. Furthermore, the essence of an old marketplace is named Men; its form is like a round granary without hands or feet. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of an old chamber is named Sunlong; its form is like a small child, one foot four inches tall, wearing black clothes, a red turban, and a large cap, girded with a sword, and holding a halberd. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, the essence of a mountain is named Kui; its form is like a drum with one foot, moving as if walking. If one calls it by its name, it can be ordered to catch tigers, wolves, and leopards. Furthermore, the essence of an old pasture or worn pond is named Kundun; its form is like a headless ox, and whenever it sees someone it chases them. If one calls it by its name, it departs. Furthermore, if at night you see a child below the hall running with disheveled hair, do not detest it; its essence is named Gou. If one calls it by its name, there will be no blame. Furthermore, a hundred-year-old wolf transforms into a human female named Zhinü; its form is like a beautiful woman, sitting by the roadside and telling men: 'I have no parents or brothers.' If a man takes her as his wife, after a year she will eat people. If one calls her by her name, she flees and departs. Furthermore, the essence of an old privy is named Bei; its form is like a beautiful woman holding a mirror. If one calls her name, she feels shame and departs."

First 48 of 51 passages. Read on

Linked texts (1)

法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese