法苑珠林 51

English (machine translation) 51

Language: English

51.1

Compiled by the Śramaṇa Shi Daoshi of Ximing Temple

51.2

Chapter 53: Good Friends
Chapter 54: Bad Friends
Chapter 55: Choosing Companions

51.3

Chapter on Good Friends (This consists of two sections)

Now, that which principle exhausts is solely good and evil. Examining these two paths, they are distinct and easy to discern. In the unseen realm there are sin and blessing, suffering and joy; in the manifest realm there are the worthy and the foolish, glory and disgrace. To love glory and detest disgrace, to pursue joy and turn away from suffering—this is what all sentient beings must share. Now, people love glory but do not know to admire the worthy; they seek blessing but do not know to avoid calamity. It is like sowing tares and chaff while wishing to harvest fine grain annually, or driving an exhausted nag while hoping to gallop across vast distances—is this not delusion? Even with the intelligence of birds, beasts, insects, and reptiles, they still know to rely on the wind, take advantage of the duck, depend on speed, and attach to heights to accomplish their deeds. How much more so for humans, that they should not rely on friends to achieve their goodness! Therefore, when one relies on good friends, one preserves one's person and accomplishes virtue; when one is intimate with the benighted, one's person withers and one's reputation becomes evil. Thus, the foundation of the profound track emerges from lofty models, and the intent of cutting and polishing depends upon my friends. Furthermore, it is like a gadfly biting an ox: its flight goes at most a hundred paces; yet if it attaches to the tail of a luan bird, with one flap it flies ten thousand li. Is this not because it attaches its speed to the skill of the other's wings? It is likewise for ordinary mortals: their drowning and falling at the utmost destination does not transcend humans and devas; yet if they rely on the majesty of the Great Sage, they ascend high to the ten stages and are born together in the Pure Realm.

51.6

Section 2: Citing Proofs

51.7

As the Nirvāṇa Sūtra says: "Bhikṣu Ānanda stated that half of the holy life (brahmacarya) is a good friend (kalyāṇamitra). The Buddha said, 'It is not so. Only the complete holy life is called a good friend.' It also says: 'A good friend speaks in accordance with the Dharma and acts in accordance with what he speaks. What is meant by speaking in accordance with the Dharma and acting in accordance with the Dharma? Not killing living beings oneself and teaching others not to kill living beings, and so forth up to practicing right view oneself and teaching others to practice right view. If one can do so, one may then be called a true good friend. Cultivating bodhi oneself and also being able to teach others to cultivate and practice bodhi—for this reason one is called a good friend. Being able oneself to cultivate and practice faith, the precepts, generosity, extensive learning, and wisdom, and also being able to teach others to cultivate and practice faith, the precepts, generosity, extensive learning, and wisdom—moreover, for this reason one is called a good friend. A good friend possesses good qualities. What are these good qualities? In all that he undertakes he does not seek his own pleasure, but constantly seeks happiness for sentient beings. Seeing the faults of others, he does not publicize their shortcomings, and his mouth constantly proclaims purely wholesome matters. For this reason he is called a good friend. Good sons, just as the moon in the sky gradually waxes from the first day to the fifteenth day, so too is a good friend: he causes all practitioners gradually to move away from evil dharmas and to increase good dharmas. Good sons, if there are those who draw close to a good friend, even if they originally lacked concentration, wisdom, liberation, and the knowledge and vision of liberation, they immediately come to possess them; and those who have not yet perfected them attain their increase and expansion.' It also says: 'A good friend should observe whether this person's greed, hatred, delusion, or discursive thought is predominant. If he knows that this person has excessive greed, he should explain to him the method of contemplating impurity. For one with excessive hatred, he explains benevolence and compassion. For one with excessive discursive thought, he teaches him to count breaths. For one with strong attachment to a self, he should analyze for him the eighteen realms and so forth. Having heard this, the person practices in due order and successively attains the four bases of mindfulness: contemplating the body, feelings, mind, and dharmas. Having attained this contemplation, he next contemplates the twelve links of dependent origination. Having contemplated in this way, he next attains the stage of warmth. From attaining the stage of warmth onward, he gradually attains the fruits of an arhat and a pratyekabuddha. The Mahāyāna Buddha-fruit of the bodhisattva and so forth all arise reliant upon this without any further doubt or hindrance. Benefiting oneself and benefiting others without adding water to the milk—this is called the rank of a true good friend and Dharma master. If one does not possess these [qualities], one is not a good friend. The method of adding water cannot be relied upon.' Therefore, quoting a sūtra, a verse in the Treatise on Buddha-Nature (Foxing lun) says:

51.8

"Lacking knowledge and lacking a good friend, / Evil friends ruin one's correct practice. / When a spider falls into milk, / That milk turns into poison."

51.9

Therefore, it is essential truly to benefit sentient beings, first taming oneself and afterwards teaching others. One must be without the fault of little learning, without the fault of retreating from practice, without the fault of distraction, without the fault of contemptuous arrogance, without the fault of inverted views, without the fault of covetous seeking, without the fault of hatred, without the fault of wrongful conduct, without the fault of attachment to a self, and without the fault of inferior practice. Endowed with these ten dharmas, one is called a good friend. Therefore a verse in the Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra says:

51.10

"Of extensive learning and having seen the truth, / Skillful in speech and compassionate, / Never retreating—such an outstanding man / Is the supreme refuge for a bodhisattva."

51.11

Furthermore, the Abhiniṣkramaṇa-sūtra says: At that time, the World-Honoured One also went with the Venerable Nanda to an incense shop. Seeing various incense packages in that shop, having seen them, he immediately told the Venerable Nanda, speaking thus: 'Nanda, come and take these incense packages from this shop.' At that time Nanda, following the Buddha's instruction, took the incense packages from that shop. The Buddha told Nanda: 'Hold these incense packages for the space of a single movement of the water clock, and then place them on the ground.' At that time, the Venerable Nanda, having heard these words of the Buddha, held this incense in his hands for the space of a moment and then put it back on the ground. At that time, the Buddha told the Venerable Nanda: 'Now smell your own hands and see.' At that time Nanda, having heard the Buddha's words, immediately smelled his own hands. The Buddha said to Nanda: 'Smelling these hands, what kind of scent is there?' He addressed the Buddha, saying: 'World-Honoured One, the fragrant scent on the hands is subtle, wondrous, and immeasurable.' The Buddha told Nanda: 'So it is, so it is. If a person draws close to good friends, constantly dwelling with them and harmoniously perfumed by their habits, because of being close to one another he will certainly attain great and far-reaching renown.' At that time, the World-Honoured One, on account of this matter, spoke a verse, saying:

51.12

"If someone holds aloeswood incense in hand, / Or agalloch, musk, and the like, / Even held for a moment, the perfume naturally clings; / Drawing close to good friends is also like this."

51.13

At that time the World-Honoured One spoke another verse, saying:

51.14

"If a person draws close to bad friends, / In the present life he will not obtain good renown; / Bound to associate with evil companions, / In the future he will also fall into the Avīci Hell. / If a person draws close to good friends, / Following along with their deeds and practices, / Although he may not realize worldly benefits in the present, / In the future he will certainly exhaust the causes of suffering."

51.15

Furthermore, according to the Dharmaguptaka-vinaya, regarding the mindset of an intimate friend, one must possess seven dharmas before becoming an intimate friend: first, being able to do what is hard to do; second, being able to give what is hard to give; third, being able to endure what is hard to endure; fourth, confiding confidential matters; fifth, concealing each other's secrets; sixth, not abandoning one another in times of distress; seventh, not despising one another in poverty and low station. If a person can practice these seven dharmas, he is an intimate and good friend, and one should draw close to him. Furthermore, in the Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra, the Buddha spoke a verse, saying:

51.16

"Freedom from illness is the foremost gain; / Contentment is the foremost wealth; / A good friend is the foremost kin; / Nirvāṇa is the foremost bliss."

51.17

Furthermore, the Sūtra on Gṛhapatika [Singāla's] Obeisance to the Six Directions says: There are four types of good friends: first, one who appears outwardly like an adversary but inwardly cherishes deep affection; second, one who admonishes straightforwardly before one's face yet praises one's virtues to outsiders; third, when one is emaciated by illness or in trouble with officialdom, one who is anxious on one's behalf and resolves one's grief; fourth, seeing that one is poor and lowly, one whose heart does not abandon him but always thinks of wanting to make him prosperous. There are four more types of good friends: first, when one is arrested by officials, taking one home, hiding one, and later resolving the matter; second, when one is sick, emaciated, and weakened, taking one home to nurse and look after; third, when a friend dies, looking after the coffining and funeral; fourth, after a friend is dead, continuing to look after his family.

51.18

Furthermore, the Jātaka-sūtra says: The Buddha told the bhikṣus: In the distant past, immeasurable ages ago, in another land, there were once four men who were intimate friends and lived together in one place. At that time, a hunter shot and killed a deer in the hunt and was about to enter the city. They discussed among themselves, saying: 'Let us devise a plan to beg deer meat from that hunter, to see who gets the most.' All of them set out at once. One man presented his plea; his words were coarse, harsh, haughty, and arrogant: 'Hey, fellow! You should give me some meat; I want to eat it.' The second man said: 'Brother, please bestow some meat so that your younger brother may eat.' The third man said: 'Dear, lovable gentleman, please give some meat; I long to eat it.' The fourth man said: 'Intimate companion, part with some meat and grant it as an alms-gift; I wish to eat it.' All were hungry and thirsty. At that time, the hunter observed the words of the four men and replied to each in verse according to what they had said. First, he replied to the first man, saying:

51.19

"Your words are exceedingly coarse and harsh; / How could I give you any meat? / Your speech is like pricking someone with a thorn; / I shall give you only the horns."

51.20

He replied to the second man, saying:

51.21

"This man is indeed good, / Calling me his elder brother; / His words are like limbs of the body, / So I give him a shoulder-cut."

51.22

He replied to the third man, saying:

51.23

"Lovingly and respectfully you ask of me, / With a mind harboring benevolence and sympathy; / Your words are like the heart and belly, / So I give you the heart and liver."

51.24

He replied to the fourth man, saying:

51.25

"Taking me as an intimate companion, / One whose person shares the same bond; / These words are splendid and good, / So I give you all of the meat."

51.26

Thereupon the hunter, according to the coarseness or refinement of their intended words, gave each of them a share of meat. At this, a deva spoke a verse, saying:

51.27

"The words of all men / In their gentle softness return to their own persons. / Therefore do not speak coarsely: / Calamity and benefit never leave one's own body."

51.28

At that time, the Buddha told the bhikṣus: 'The first person of coarse words was the Śākya who took joy [in harsh speech]; the second person was Bhadrika; the third person was Kālodayin; the fourth person was Ānanda of today. The deva who spoke the verse was myself. Our meeting at that time was just as it is today.'

51.29

Furthermore, the Abhiniṣkramaṇa-sūtra says: The Buddha told the bhikṣus: I recall that long ago in the past, in the kingdom of Vārāṇasī, there was a king of crows named Suputra (translated into the language of Sui as Good Son), who resided near that city of Vārāṇasī, living in harmony with eighty thousand crows. Suputra, the king of crows, had a wife named Suputrī (translated into the language of Sui as Good Daughter). At that time, that crow-wife engaged in mating with that king of crows and became pregnant. Then that crow-wife suddenly had this thought: 'May I obtain pure, fragrant, and clean food and drink such as is currently eaten by the human king.' But because that crow-wife craved this food and could not obtain it, she tossed and turned, dazed and distraught, her body emaciated, withered, trembling, and unable to find ease. [The king of crows] asked his wife, saying: 'Why are you tossing and turning on the ground now, your body emaciated, withered, trembling, and unable to find ease?' At that time, the crow-wife replied to the king of crows, saying: 'Noble son, now that I am pregnant, I had this thought: "May I obtain pure, fragrant, and clean dishes such as those eaten by the king."' Then Suputra the crow said to his wife: 'How strange, worthy lady! In my position today, where could I obtain such fragrant and delicious food and drink? The royal palace is deep and inaccessible; if I were to enter, I would surely lose my life at their hands.' That wife again replied to the king of crows, saying: 'Noble son, right now, if I cannot obtain such food and drink, I will die without doubt, and the unborn young will also surely not live.' Suputra, the king of crows, spoke again to his wife, saying: 'How strange, worthy lady! The day of your death must surely be at hand, that you should crave such a difficult-to-obtain thing!' Having spoken these words, Suputra, the king of crows, stood brooding in sorrow and despair. He thought again: 'In my view, such fragrant, clean, and pure food and drink as that eaten by the king is indeed difficult to obtain.' At that time, among the crow king's flock there was a crow who saw Suputra the crow standing sorrowful, dejected, and unhappy. Having seen this, he went to the king of crows and said to him: 'How strange, worthy lord! For what reason do you stand brooding in sorrow?' Suputra, the king of crows, then related in detail the preceding circumstances. That crow again said to King Suputra: 'Noble son, do not grieve any longer. I can seek out for the king this difficult-to-obtain, fragrant, and delicious food eaten by the king.' At that time, the king of crows spoke to that crow again, saying: 'Excellent, good friend! If by your strength you can accomplish such a deed for me, I shall reward the service you have done.' At that time, that crow flew up into the air from the dwelling place of the king of crows and went to the palace of King Brahmadatta. Perching on a tree not far from the kitchen, he watched inside the kitchen of King Brahmadatta. When the king's meal was prepared, there was a woman arranging the dishes. The mealtime approaching, she placed that food and drink specifically in silver vessels, intending to present it to the king. At that time, that crow flew down from the tree, alighted upon that woman's head, and pecked at her nose. That woman, suffering from the pain in her nose, immediately spilled this food onto the ground.

51.30

At that time, that crow took the food and brought it to the crow king. Having received it, the crow king then brought it to his wife. Having received it, his wife immediately ate her fill, her body became tranquil, and thus she gave birth. At that time, that crow went several times each day, snatched the food, and brought it to the crow king. King Brahmadatta frequently saw this happen and thought: 'How extraordinary and bizarre! Why does this crow constantly come to defile my food and scratch my women with its beak and claws?' The king, unable to tolerate this matter, immediately issued an order to summon the fowlers and hunters, telling them: 'Go quickly to the crow's location and capture it alive to bring back.' Having heard the king's order, the hunters addressed the king, saying: 'As the king commands, we dare not disobey the order.' The hunters went, captured this crow with a net, caught it alive, and brought it to hand over to King Brahmadatta. King Brahmadatta then spoke to the crow, saying: 'Why have you recently defiled my food multiple times and injured my women with your beak and claws?' At that time, the crow said to King Brahmadatta: 'O great king, listen to me explain this matter to the king so as to cause the king joy.' Then King Brahmadatta felt joy in his heart and thought: 'This is a rare thing! How can this crow speak human speech?' Having had this thought, he addressed the crow, saying: 'Excellent, excellent! You must explain the intention of this matter to me so that I will rejoice.' At that time, the crow then spoke in verse to King Brahmadatta, saying:

51.31

"Great King, you should know that in Vārāṇasī, / there is a crow king who constantly dwells there. / Surrounded by a flock of eighty thousand crows, / they all receive that king's commands. / That crow king's wife conceived a longing; / I shall explain its cause to the great king. / The delicious and fragrant meal that the crow's wife craved / was such as the great king eats. / Therefore I have now come repeatedly, / snatching and carrying off the great king's fragrant and delicious food. / Now, on behalf of that crow king, / I have come to be bound by the great king. / O great holy king, please / have compassion and pity, and release me! / It was for the sake of the crow king and his wife / that I repeatedly came to snatch the great king's food. / I reflect that in all my life, / I have never committed such an act. / Now that the great king has rebuked me once, / hereafter I dare never do it again."

51.32

At that time, having heard the crow speak such words, King Brahmadatta felt joy in his heart and said: 'This is a rare thing! Even humans cannot have such an affectionate and reverent mind toward their masters as this crow does.' Having spoken these words, King Brahmadatta spoke a verse, saying:

51.33

"If there were such a minister, / he should be richly rewarded with an official fief. / One should be like this fierce and vigorous crow, / who seeks food for his master without begrudging his own life."

51.34

Having spoken this verse, King Brahmadatta addressed the crow once more, saying: 'Well done, crow! From now on, you may always come here to take fragrant and delicious food. If someone blocks you and does not give you food, come and let me know. I shall personally give you a share of my own food for you to take away.' The Buddha told the monks: 'You should know that the crow king was myself. The crow who stole food for his master at that time was the monk Udāyin. King Brahmadatta was King Śuddhodana. At that time, the monk Udāyin made him rejoice and procured food for me; now it is also like this: he made King Śuddhodana feel joyful in his heart, and he also brought food to me.' The verse says:

51.35

Cleansing the body and bathing in virtue, / the mind is made firm in the crucible. / Ice melts on a spring day; / orchids wither in an autumn year. / A wise person attains sagacity; / a foolish friend increases entanglements. / Wishing to ascend to the jewel-ground, / may one encounter good conditions.

51.36

Section 54: Bad Friends (This contains two parts)

51.37

Part 1: Setting Forth the Theme

51.38

Contemplating the Great Sage's bestowing of transformation: he correctly gathers the minds of all beings. The two gates of good and evil serve to manifest the ultimate principle. Good kinds ascend in purity; the evil sink and plunge downward. This is truly because karmic delusion is not yet overturned, and the tridhātu forms a cage. Passionate defilements are not tranquil, concealing and obscuring through the five burnings. They are stranded in the sinking of the eight inversions, and wearied by the binding shackles of the four modes of birth. Therefore, by following evil masters and believing in and accepting bad friends, afflictive confusion becomes hard to restrain, and turbulent emissaries are constantly active. The mind-horse easily gallops away; the monkey of passion is hard to restrain. Cultivating merit and recollecting the good is rarely heard from oneself; committing transgressions and managing faults increase day by day. Because of this, one cycles through birth and death without cessation. When the Great Sage pities them, how could his heart not ache?

51.39

Part 2: Citing Evidence

51.40

As the Sūtra on the Six Directions of Worship Spoken to Sigāla states: 'There are four classes of bad associates. First, inwardly possessing resentment while outwardly pretending to be an associate. Second, speaking good words to a person's face while speaking ill of them behind their back. Third, in times of emergency, looking sorrowful before a person's face while rejoicing behind their back. Fourth, outwardly appearing close and intimate while inwardly hatching resentful plots.' There are further four classes of bad associates: 'First, becoming greatly enraged at a slight offense. Second, refusing to carry out an errand when asked to do so. Third, seeing someone in an emergency and fleeing to avoid them. Fourth, seeing someone die and abandoning them without a glance.' Furthermore, the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra states: 'A bodhisattva-mahāsattva views an evil elephant and a bad associate as equal and without distinction. Why? Because both destroy the body. A bodhisattva-mahāsattva has no fear in mind regarding evil elephants and the like, but gives rise to a fearful mind regarding bad associates. Why? These evil elephants and the like can only destroy the body, not the mind, whereas a bad associate destroys both. These evil elephants and the like destroy only a single body, whereas a bad associate destroys immeasurable good bodies and immeasurable good minds. These evil elephants and the like can only destroy the impure and foul body, whereas a bad associate can destroy the pure body and pure mind. These evil elephants and the like can destroy the physical body, whereas a bad associate destroys the Dharma-body. Being killed by an evil elephant does not lead to the three evil destinies; being killed by an evil friend inevitably leads to the three evil destinies. These evil elephants and the like are only enemies of the body, whereas a bad associate is an enemy of the good Dharma. Therefore, a bodhisattva should always stay far away from all bad associates.'

51.41

Furthermore, in the Ekottarika-āgama, the World-Honoured One spoke in verse, saying:

51.42

"Do not associate with bad companions, / nor follow foolish undertakings. / One should draw near to good companions, / the most supreme among human beings. / Even a person among humans who has no evil, / if they associate with and draw near to bad companions, / will surely plant evil roots later on, / and forever walk in darkness."

51.43

Furthermore, the Madhyama-āgama says: 'At that time, the World-Honoured One told the monks: "There are seven things desired by enemies that make them act as enemies. First, not wishing their enemy to have a handsome appearance: even if bathed well and anointed with fine fragrances, yet because of appearance, anger covers their mind and they act as an enemy. Second, not wishing their enemy to sleep peacefully: even though lying on a bed and pillow covered with brocade and silk, yet they do not let go of sorrow and distress; anger covers their mind and they act as an enemy. Third, not wishing their enemy to gain great profit: even when profit should be obtained, they do not obtain it, or what should not be obtained is obtained; these two things mutually conflict, anger covers their mind, and they act as an enemy. Fourth, not wishing their enemy to have friends: if there are close friends, they abandon and avoid them; because anger covers their mind, they act as an enemy. Fifth, not wishing their enemy to have renown: their bad reputation and ugly voice are heard all around in various directions; because anger covers their mind, they act as an enemy. Sixth, not wishing their enemy to have great wealth: that very wealthy person unexpectedly loses wealth and goods; because anger covers their mind, they act as an enemy. Seventh, not wishing their enemy, upon the destruction of the body and the end of life, to go to a good place: after doing evil deeds of body, speech, and mind, at the end of life they will surely go to an evil place and be born in hell, and thus act as an enemy."'”

51.44

Furthermore, the Abhiniṣkramaṇa-sūtra says: 'At that time, the Buddha addressed the monks, saying: "I recall in the remote past of long ago, beneath the Snow Mountains there was a two-headed bird sharing one single body, living there. One head was named Garuḍa, and the other head was named Upagaruḍa. As for those two birds, when one head slept, the other head awoke. At a time when Garuḍa was sleeping, near the awake head was a fruit tree named Madhūka. The flowers of that tree fell, blown by the wind to the side of the awake head. That head then thought: 'Although I alone am eating this flower now, once it enters the stomach, both heads will simultaneously attain colour and strength, and both hunger and thirst will be eliminated.' Thus, that awake head did not let the sleeping head awaken, nor did it inform it, but silently ate that flower. Afterwards, when that sleeping head awoke, its belly was full and satisfied, and it burped and belched. It then said to the other head: 'Where did you obtain such fragrant, delicious, and wonderful food to eat, which has made my body comfortable and full, and made my voice delicate and wondrous?' The awake head answered: 'While you were asleep, not far from my side was a Madhūka flower-fruit tree. At that time, a flower fell beside my head. I thought to myself then: "Now I should just eat this flower alone; once it enters the stomach, both of us will gain colour and strength, and hunger and thirst will be eliminated." Therefore, I did not awaken you at that time, nor did I inform you, but simply ate this flower.' At that time, having heard these words, that head gave rise to anger and resentment, thinking: 'The food he obtained, he did not inform me of, nor did he wake me up, but simply ate it himself. If that is the case, from now on whatever food I obtain, I also will not awaken him to inform him.' Once, as the two heads were wandering about, they suddenly encountered a poisonous flower. It then thought: 'I will eat this flower, wishing to cause both heads to die at the same time.' It then said to Garuḍa: 'Go to sleep now; I will stay awake.' Hearing the head Upagaruḍa speak these words, Garuḍa then went to sleep. The head Upagaruḍa immediately ate the poisonous flower. When the head Garuḍa woke up, it burped and belched, and thereupon sensed this poisonous vapour. It spoke to the other head, saying: 'What foul food did you eat while I was awake that makes my body uneasy and on the verge of death, and also makes my speech rough and harsh, obstructed and impeded when I try to make a sound?' The awake head then answered: 'While you were asleep, I ate a poisonous flower, wishing to cause both heads to die at the same time.' At that time, that head said to the other head: 'Why were your actions so utterly rash? Why did you commit such an evil deed?' It then spoke in verse, saying:

51.45

"Formerly, while you were asleep, / I ate a wondrous flower sweet in flavour. / That flower was blown beside me by the wind; / you, on the contrary, gave rise to this great anger. / May one never see anyone who is a fool; / nor may one hear of or dwell together with a fool. / Dwelling together with a fool brings no benefit; / it harms oneself and harms the other's body."

51.46

The Buddha told the monks: 'If you have any doubts in your mind, do not hold a different view: the one who ate the delicious flower at that time as the Garuḍa bird was myself. The one who ate the poisonous flower at that time as the Upagaruḍa bird was this Devadatta. At that time, I acted for his benefit, yet he conversely gave rise to anger. Now it is also like this: my teachings benefit him, yet he conversely takes me as his enemy.'

51.47

Furthermore, the *Fo benxing jing* says: At that time, the World-Honoured One entered the city of Kapilavastu together with Nanda. Having entered, they gradually came to a fish shop. At that time, the World-Honoured One saw a hundred foul, rotting, dead fish placed upon a mat of couch grass inside the shop. Seeing this, he addressed the Venerable Nanda, saying, “Nanda, go and take a handful of couch grass from this fish mat.” Nanda addressed the Buddha, saying, “As the World-Honoured One instructs.” Having spoken thus, he pulled out a handful of foul and loathsome couch grass from beneath the fish mat in that shop. When he had taken hold of it, the Buddha addressed him again, saying, “Venerable Nanda, hold it for a short while, and then put it back on the ground.” Nanda said, “As the World-Honoured One instructs,” and held the grass. When Nanda had held that grass for the space of an hour, he put it on the ground. At that time the Buddha addressed Nanda again, saying, “Smell your hand yourself.” Nanda then smelled his hand. At that time the Buddha addressed Nanda again, saying, “What scent does your hand have?” The Venerable Nanda replied, saying, “World-Honoured One, there is only an impure, fishy stench.” At that time the Buddha told the Venerable Nanda: “So it is, so it is. If a person associates with evil companions, befriends them, socialises with them, and dwells with them, even if they comply with one another for only a short time, later, because of being infected by habituation to evil deeds, their evil reputation will spread far and wide.” At that time the World-Honoured One, because of this matter, spoke a verse:

51.48

Just as beneath a fish mat
One takes a handful of couch grass in hand,
That person's hand smells just like the fish;
Associating with evil friends is also like this.

51.49

The poem says:

51.50

Towering is Rājagṛha,
Lush is the sacred Bamboo Grove;
Within it resides the master of spiritual transformation,
Skillfully guiding those plunged into obscurity and darkness.
Good people yearn for the bestowal of blessings;
Evil companions delight in hatred and enmity.
Good and evil differ in ascent and descent;
Sweet herb and foul weed lead to separate gates.

51.51

Chapter 55: Selecting Companions (this contains two sections)

51.52

Section 1: Explaining the Intent

51.53

Now it is heard: The sūtras explain that one must not be parted from good companions for even a moment, and that one must not approach evil companions for even a moment. The conscious mind of ordinary mortals is like plain silk: it changes according to conditions and receives different colours. When external objects come to perfume the mind, the mind responds to those objects; when mind and objects interact, good and evil karmic deeds manifest. Thus we know that the support provided by the Three Jewels is the most precious among things. Their virtue is vast, and their merit is great. May one cast aside evil friends and draw near to good people. Not only will one's own practice be accomplished, but both the unseen and the manifest will turn their hearts toward [the Dharma].

51.54

Section 2: Citing Evidence

51.55

As the *Mahāsāṃghika-vinaya* says: The Buddha addressed the bhikṣus: “In a past age, at the foot of the Snowy Mountains, in an embankment of a winding mountain, there was a sunlit spot. A flock of birds gathered like clouds and discussed among themselves, saying: ‘Today we should select a bird to be our king, so that the flock will have respect and fear and not commit unlawful acts.’ The flock discussed, saying: ‘Good! Who should be king?’ One bird said: ‘We should choose the water-crane.’ Another bird said: ‘This will not do. Why? Its legs are tall and its neck is long; if any bird transgresses, it might peck our brains out.’ The flock all agreed. Another bird said: ‘We should choose the goose to be king; its colour is pure white, and it is respected by all the birds.’ The flock of birds said again: ‘This too will not do. Although its appearance is white, its neck is long and curved. If its own neck is not straight, how could it straighten others? Therefore it will not do.’ The flock spoke again: ‘There is precisely the peacock; its colourful feathers are pleasing to beholders. It could be king.’ They said again: ‘It will not do. Why is that? Although its feathers are beautiful, it lacks shame and remorse; whenever it dances, its ugly form is revealed. Therefore it will not do.’ One bird said: ‘Let the owl be king. Why? By day it is tranquil, and by night it diligently watches and protects us. It is worthy to be king.’ The flock all agreed. There was a parrot residing in a certain place who possessed great wisdom. It thought: ‘The way of the flock of birds is that they should sleep and rest at night and seek food by day. But the owl's way is that it does not sleep at night and sleeps much by day. If the birds attend and wait upon it on left and right, on guard day and night without sleeping, it will be a great misery. If I speak now, it will become enraged and pluck out my feathers; but if I choose not to speak, the flock of birds will suffer distress through the long night. I would rather have my feathers plucked than violate the right principle.’ It then went before the flock of birds, raised its wings with respect, and addressed the birds, saying: ‘Please listen to my opinion as stated before.’ At that time, the flock of birds replied in verse:

51.56

‘One who is clever and wise and broadly understands the meaning
Does not have to be old in years;
Though your years are young,
As a wise one, you should speak at this time.’

51.57

At that time, the parrot, hearing the words of the flock of birds, spoke a verse:

51.58

‘If you follow my opinion,
You should not have the owl as king:
When it is joyful and one looks upon its face,
It constantly makes the flock of birds terrified;
How much more so when it is enraged—
Its face will be unbearable to look at!’

51.59

Then the flock of birds all said: ‘It is truly as you have said.’ They immediately assembled and resolved: ‘This parrot is intelligent, clever, and wise; it is fit to be king.’ They then appointed it king.” The Buddha addressed the bhikṣus: “The owl at that time was the present bhikṣu Chanda; the parrot was the present Ānanda.”

51.60

Also, the *Mahāsāṃghika-vinaya* says: The Buddha addressed the bhikṣus: “In a past age there was a flock of chickens that lived in a bamboo grove. A wildcat preyed upon and ate the rooster, leaving only the hen. Later, a crow came and mated with her, and together they gave birth to a child. When the child made a sound, the grandfather spoke a verse:

51.61

‘This child is not of my kind:
A wild father and a village mother
Came together and bore a child,
Neither a crow nor a chicken.
If it wishes to learn its grandfather’s sound,
It was nevertheless born of a chicken mother;
If it wishes to learn its mother’s call,
Its father was nevertheless a crow.
Learning to be a crow, it sounds like a chicken;
Learning to be a chicken, it makes the sound of a crow.
Learning both the crow and the chicken,
It accomplishes neither.’

51.62

Furthermore, the *Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra* asks: How does dāna give rise to śīlapāramitā? A bodhisattva contemplates: If sentient beings do not understand dāna, they will be poor in future lifetimes. Because of poverty, the mind of robbery arises. Because of robbery, killing occurs. Because of poverty, one lacks sensual pleasure; lacking sensual pleasure, one engages in sexual misconduct. Because of poverty, one becomes base and despised; being base and fearing others, false speech arises. In such ways, due to poverty, they practice the ten unwholesome courses of action. If one practices dāna, one is born with wealth and possessions and does not commit unlawful deeds. Why? Because the five desires are fulfilled and there is no deficiency. For instance, in a past life Devadatta was once a snake, who formed a close friendship with a frog and a tortoise in a pond. Later, the pond water dried up, and they were starving, impoverished, and destitute, with nowhere to appeal. At that time, the snake sent the tortoise to call the frog. The frog spoke a verse to send the tortoise away, saying:

51.63

‘If one encounters poverty and loses one’s original mind,
One does not consider original loyalty, putting food first.
Take my words and tell the snake:
The frog will never come to your side!’

51.64

If one cultivates dāna, one will have blessings in future births without any deficiency; then one can uphold the precepts without these various evils. This is how dāna can give rise to śīlapāramitā. If one can practice dāna to break the stingy mind, thereafter upholding precepts, kṣānti, and so forth can easily be practiced. For example, long kalpas ago in the distant past, Mañjuśrī was once a bhikṣu. Entering a city to beg for food, he obtained a bowl full of joyous sweets of a hundred flavours. A small child in the city pursued him and begged for them. He did not give them immediately, but when he reached the stūpa, holding two sweets in his hand, he made a pact with him, saying: ‘If you can eat one sweet yourself and give one sweet to the Saṃgha, I will give them to you.’ The child immediately agreed and gave one joyous sweet to the Saṃgha. Thereafter, he received the precepts from Mañjuśrī and generated the aspiration to become a Buddha. Thus, dāna can cause one to receive the precepts and generate the aspiration to become a Buddha. The poem says:

51.65

Good and evil naturally oppose each other;
Light and darkness do not dwell together.
The Sage pities the bewildered flock,
Taking the opportune moment to enter saṃsāra.
Admiring virtue dispels clamour and vexation;
Restraining the mind reveals the true reality.
Selecting companions, evil naturally ends;
Escaping suffering only then begins.

51.66

Accounts of Sympathetic Resonances (briefly citing three proofs)

51.67

Śramaṇa Shi Chaoda of the Wei
Śramaṇa Shi Senglang of the Wei
Śramaṇa Shi Daofeng of the Qi

51.68

Shi Chaoda of Xingyang in the Wei: His lineage is not known. He was a monk of active practice during the Yuan-Wei dynasty. He possessed much knowledge and understanding and was skilled in incantations. The emperor was especially strict in banning apocryphal texts and prophecies, conducting searches everywhere. Someone falsely accused Chaoda, and he was arrested and consigned to the Xingyang prison. At that time, the Duke of Boling of the Wei investigated and thoroughly interrogated him; Chaoda answered truthfully. The Duke became furious, bound a cart wheel to his neck, and guarded him strictly. Knowing he would not survive, he single-mindedly concentrated on Avalokiteśvara. At the fourth watch of the night, the wheel suddenly vanished, and he saw only that the guards were all in a deep slumber. He therefore ran outside intending to escape far away. But having been bound in prison for a long time, his legs were cramped and stiff, and he could not walk far. At dawn, northern cavalry rode out in all directions in pursuit. Chaoda hurriedly lay prone in the grass. The soldiers and cavalry trampled the grass flat everywhere. Although right beside him, they did not see him; looking up at the northern soldiers' faces, they all had their eyes shielded by leather. Chaoda single-mindedly resigned himself to death and only called on [Avalokiteśvara's] name with devoted sincerity. In the middle of the night the northern soldiers left, and he immediately managed to escape. Furthermore, there was the cleric Sengming, who was the abbot of the Beitai Shiku Temple. When the Wei clan ruled the world, they often suspected śramaṇas of being rebels. The authorities arrested several hundred monks and bound them with fivefold bonds. Sengming, regarded as the leader, was bound tightly with ropes from head to foot, and a time was set at dawn for his execution. Sengming was terrified and single-mindedly contemplated Avalokiteśvara. At midnight, he felt the ropes loosen slightly; secretly rejoicing, his dedication became even more earnest. When dawn came, the ropes had all broken. Having thus escaped, he fled into the mountains. The next morning, the prison warden came looking for him and did not find him, seeing only the severed ropes on the ground. Knowing this was due to spiritual power and not human action, he reported it to the throne. The emperor believed that the cleric had not rebelled and released all of them.

51.69

Shi Senglang of Liangzhou in the Wei: When the northern Wei forces attacked Liangzhou, the city's inhabitants were few, and they forced the monks to mount the city walls. The entire city fell. Three thousand monks who had mounted the walls were captured. The army commander brought them before the Wei emperor and said: ‘Clerics ought to sit in meditation and practice the Path, yet you acted as rebels and mounted the walls! Your crime warrants capital punishment; tomorrow you shall be executed.’ When the time of the morning meal arrived, a red vapour several tens of feet long passed straight through the sun. The Celestial Master Kou Qianzhi, who was trusted by the emperor, presented a memorial saying: ‘Heaven has sent down this anomaly precisely on account of the clerics. It was truly not their original intent; the officials forced them up. May Your Majesty spare them from execution.’ The emperor then released them, but dispersed and assigned them to labor squads; only Senglang and several other monks were assigned separately to his headquarters to accompany the imperial carriage back east. When the Wei army returned east, Senglang and his fellow student yearned for their native land and rebelled together midway. However, the guard was strict, and there was nowhere else to flee. To the east and west were sheer cliffs of unfathomable depth. Above, a large tree hung over the edge of the cliff; they tied a drum-banner pole rope to the tree and suspended themselves down. The night was pitch-dark, and the bottom of the cliff was completely covered in thorns with nowhere to set foot. If they wished to climb back to the top of the cliff, they feared the army would discover them. At a loss for a plan, they clung to the rope in suspense; their strength could not last long. They said to each other: ‘Extreme peril has arrived all at once; let us only contemplate Avalokiteśvara.’ Striking their heads against the rock, they concentrated single-mindedly. In a moment, a brilliant light emerged from the direction of the sun, illuminating heaven and earth. They then saw a place to land among the thorns. Following the light they reached the ground, and suddenly darkness returned. Only then did they know that this was the power of the Sage and had nothing to do with the break of day. Rejoicing at this sympathetic response, they were relieved and slept a little. After a long while, dawn broke. They only then heard the warning horns of the army preparing to depart. But the mountains and valleys were layered and stretched for thousands of li, and they did not know the way out. Waiting for the moon, they set out. On the road they encountered a large tiger appearing before them. Looking at each other, they said: ‘Though we escaped the northern soldiers’ peril, it is hard to escape the tiger's jaws.’ Lang said to the monk: ‘It is not as you say. Precisely because we had a response, the light appeared. In meeting this tiger now, might the Sage not be showing us the way?’ Thereupon the two went straight toward the tiger. The tiger then walked ahead. When Lang lagged a little, the tiger also paused. By dawn they got out, and the tiger's tracks disappeared. They then proceeded along the path. After seven days they reached Chouzhi, and having passed through Liang and the Han River, emerged in Jingzhou. Where he ended his life is unknown.

51.70

Shi Daofeng of Mount Gu in Xiang Prefecture under the Qi dynasty: his clan name is not known. His contemporaries called him one who had attained the Way. Together with three disciples he dwelt in Mount Gu in Xiang Prefecture, seeking no material support. Some said that he understood all worldly arts and skills, including alchemical compounding, aurifaction, medicine, divination, and physiognomy. Gao of the Qi, whenever traveling between Bing and Ye, would frequently visit to consult him. He answered without hesitation, responding directly according to the subject. The Emperor once ordered wine together with a steamed suckling pig, commanding them to be placed before Feng and ordering him to eat them. Feng showed not the slightest refusal or hesitation, eating to his heart's content until fully sated. The Emperor laughed loudly and spoke no more with him. After the imperial carriage departed, [Feng] said to his disciples, “Remove the things beside the bed.” When they uncovered and cleared the bed, they saw that the previous steamed suckling pig and wine were still there, showing no signs of having been chewed or consumed at all. At that time, there was a monk practicing sitting meditation at the Shiku Temple. Every day at sunset, looking eastward toward the mountain peak, an eighteen-foot golden statue would appear. This monk secretly rejoiced, thinking he was beholding an auspicious omen, and bowed in worship day after day. This went on for about two months. Later, while lying in his room, he suddenly heard a voice beside his pillow saying to him, “Where else under Heaven is there a Buddha? Your realization of the Way today is itself being a Buddha. You should conduct yourself well as the Buddha's body; do not take yourself lightly.” Upon hearing this, the monk immediately developed pride and arrogance, regarding the host of monks around him as mere weeds. Before the assembly, tilting his finger and pointing to his chest, he said, “Do you all recognize a true Buddha? For clay niches and painted Buddhas, words do not come from their lips; what wisdom or thought do they have? Seeing a true Buddha, you do not know to pay homage, but still measure me by my former days. You shall all fall into Avīci!” Furthermore, his eyes had already turned red, and he was screaming wildly without pause. The whole monastery knew this was meditation madness. Before it became completely unmanageable, they carried him on a litter to Feng's dwelling. [Feng] immediately said to him, “For the past two months, have you frequently seen a golden statue appear on the eastern mountain?” He answered, “I truly did see it.” [Feng] said again, “Did you hear [a voice] beside your pillow telling you to act as a Buddha?” He answered, “Truly so.” Feng said, “This is merely a disruption of wind causing you to lose your mind. If it is not treated early, you might run mad and be difficult to restrain.” He then applied acupuncture needles to three places on his body, and thereupon the madness did not recur. When Feng approached the end of his life, he said to his disciples, “I have been in these mountains for a long time. You have endured the toil of drawing water from the valley. Now that I am departing, I have nothing to bequeath you, but I shall leave you a spring. Since you will no longer have the hardship of climbing up and down, exert yourselves diligently in cultivating the work of the Way.” He then pointed beside the stove to a square stone. Thereupon a suspended spring gushed forth, clear and bright, neither overflowing nor diminishing. It still exists today. (The above three testimonies are taken from the Liang Lives of Eminent Monks.)

51.71

Fayuan Zhulin, Fascicle Fifty-One

Linked texts (1)

法苑珠林 — 道世, Classical Chinese