出三藏記集 10.66

10.66

Now, the Ultimate Principle establishes its station through non-action, and the sage brings his potency to fruition. Darkness and brightness alternate to unfold destiny, and prosperity and decline combine in their vicissitudes. Thus we know that when peril and ease push upon one another, the Principle has its times for action and retirement; when contraction and expansion affect one another, destiny has its cycles of coming and going. Looking at it from this standpoint: though the hidden pivot subtly responds and the round celestial cycle is boundless, it cannot level the shifts of the four seasons or make their convergence uniform. How much less, when the times and fortunes are disordered and errant, and worldly paths are jointly sinking, could one fail to set deep roots and firm base, resting in the utmost to await the right time? If one understands that the opening and closing of events follow destiny and that the coming of the season is not by mere chance encounter, then the Way of the Rightly Awakened One does not congeal in vain beyond material things, and the intention to propagate the teaching can also gradually be recognized.

There was an eminent scholar of the Great Vehicle whose name was Nāgārjuna. He was born in India and came from a brāhmaṇa clan. Amassing sincerity over past ages, his mind's aspiration was set upon this. Meeting the destiny of the nine-hundredth year, and addressing the age of moral decline and shallowness, he grieved over the vast ignorance of the deluded populace; stepping onto perilous tracks, he felt no stinginess [for himself]. Thereupon he furled his shade at his humble door, and took flight like a cloud above the Red Marsh. Lamenting that civilized brightness was not yet unfolded, he thought of leaping swiftly yet remaining unused. Thus he sighed with a heavy breath, saying, "The heavy night is now dark; it is not what flickering candlelight can illuminate. Although the bright sun has laid down its light, it can still be succeeded by the clear moon." Thereupon he took a vow to cast off his hairpin, adopt the monastic demeanor, and put on dark robes. Living in seclusion in forests and marshes, he preserved serenity and practiced dhyāna. Calming his thoughts to examine subtleties, his reflective comprehension surpassed that of ordinary people by more than half. He thereby awakened and said: "I have heard from earlier treatises that the Great Direction is boundless; yet perhaps there is something that transcends its exterior." Soon afterward, he turned his steps toward the Snow Mountains (Himālaya). He invoked the spiritual deities to inquire of his aim, intending to visit the haunts traversed by ancient immortals. Suddenly, beneath a cliff, he met a śramaṇa. Asking him to resolve his doubts, he first came to know that there was the study of the Mahāyāna (vaipulya). When he reached the Dragon Palace, there was no essential treasury or secret scripture that he did not master and integrate. Once the roots of his attachments were uprooted, his name topped the stages of the Way and his virtue was complete with the three forbearances. Thereafter, he opened nine fords in the deep abyss, swimming together with the schooling fish. His disciples were like a forest; the eminent and talented inevitably gathered. Because of this, the non-Buddhists elevated his manner, and famous scholars submitted to his intent. The enterprise of the Great Vehicle flourished again from this point.

This master regarded the Prajñā Sūtra as the spirit's palace, the wondrous gate, and the way of unified principle; the three vehicles and twelve divisions of scriptures issue forth from it. Therefore he held it in especial esteem. Yet this sūtra is profound and abstruse; its purport is difficult to clarify. Unless one is a master of learning, few can attain its ultimate destination. Therefore, he set forth its overarching structure and distinguished its deep intent. Whenever the meaning lay beyond the text and the principle was harbored within words, he immediately entrusted it to host and guest, feigning doubts of his own to initiate dialogues; it was entitled *Upadeśa* (Question and Discourse). As for its essentials: setting forth onto the central thoroughfare, it opens the gate of wisdom to the deluded; it takes non-appropriation as the real and non-illumination as the essential principle. Through non-appropriation, the spirit concentrates upon where it tends; through non-illumination, wisdom is serene in what it traverses. When wisdom is traversed through serenity, the myriad heretics reform their thoughts, and rights and wrongs cease. When the spirit concentrates upon its tendency, the two truths run on the same track, and the dark carriage becomes one. Were it not for the spirit of the Rightly Awakened One turning the Wheel of Dharma a second time, who could revive the great enterprise as it was about to fall, or tie together the loose ends of the abandoned main cords, causing subtle words that were severed to be continued again, and dark notes that had ceased to be chanted anew?

Although I did not have the fortune to live in the same era as this person, to knock at the ford and hear the Way, yet when examining and savoring it, I never fail to read a chapter thrice and rejoice at having encountered it. What within it can open the unenlightened and brightly illuminate, serving as a water-mirror for the myriad phenomena, is truly not what ordinary wisdom can discern; let me briefly state it. The path of birth dawns in the realm of beginninglessness; change and transformation are constructed in the locus where reliance and lurking reside. All are born from what was not yet existent, and having come to exist, they perish into non-existence. Tracing this to the end, one knows that existence and non-existence revolve and fade away within a single phenomenon: they are mutually contingent and not the primordial source. Arising and ceasing run in tandem within a single transformation: they reflect emptiness and have no master. Thereupon, he immediately approached them to accomplish contemplation, and reversed the mirror to seek the ultimate principle. When the mirror is clear, defilements do not halt [its reflection] and forms and images can be seen. When contemplation is deep, awakening penetrates into the subtle, and both name and reality are dark and profound. He who wishes to seek its essentials must begin here; only then may discourse on neither-existence-nor-non-existence be spoken of.

Let us attempt to discuss it: that which exists and abides in existence is existent in relation to existence; that which does not exist and abides in non-existence is non-existent in relation to non-existence. To take existence as existent is not true existence; to take non-existence as non-existent is not true non-existence. How do we know this is so? The nature of non-nature is called dharmatā. Dharmatā has no nature; conditioned arising comes to be through it. Conditions for arising have no self-characteristic: though existent, they are ever non-existent. Being ever non-existent is not the total annihilation of existence, just as fire is transmitted without ceasing. Such being the case, phenomena have no divergent destinations: beginning and end sink into emptiness; ultimately all contend together, and existence and non-existence mutually converge. Therefore, those who roam within its enclosure have minds that do not wait upon reflection and wisdom that has no object. Without extinguishing characteristics, they are serene; without cultivating concentration, they are at leisure; and without spiritual encounters, they penetrate it in this way. Recognizing that the emptiness of emptiness is the profound mystery—this is its utmost, this is its culmination. Beyond this, nothing can be known.

Furthermore, as for the substance of the treatise: its station begins without fixed direction and cannot be interrogated; touching upon categories, its variations are manifold and cannot be exhausted. Sometimes it opens distant principles to arouse inspiration; sometimes it guides familiar habits to enter profundity; sometimes it encompasses diverse paths within a single phenomenon without confusion; sometimes it unfolds a hundred thoughts within an identical characteristic without division. By this it surpasses the talk of ordinary men and is without equal under Heaven. Thereupon, he quoted broadly from numerous sūtras to enrich his words, and freely gave voice to meaningful expressions to magnify their beauty. When beauty is fully realized, wisdom is all-encompassing; when the words are broad, the vast and great are all provided. Therefore, if one scales its banks, there is no ford; if one scoops up its flow, it does not run dry. Broad and deep, none can measure its capacity; vast and grand, none can match its magnificence. Even if the hundred rivers were poured into the Yellow River, it would not suffice to describe its eloquence; even if one traversed the sea to seek the source, it would not suffice to exhaust its profundity. If so, were it not for a person of abyss-like knowledge and vast measure, who could dive and leap with it? Were it not for one who transcends names and returns to numbers, who could dwell in tranquil indifference with it? Were it not for one who penetrates the hidden and enters the dark, who could abide in quiet detachment with it?

There was an eminent śramaṇa of the high seat whose name was Kumārajīva. Of magnificent talent and broad learning, his wisdom encompassed all scriptures. He savored and wore this treatise, cherishing it for a long time. Although his spiritual awakening arose from within, it necessarily awaited an impetus to respond. At that time, the Qin ruler, King Yao, revered and delighted in the Great Dharma; he assembled famous scholars to exalt the Three Jewels. His virtue reached diverse customs, and his transforming influence flowed to the Western Regions. This caused this master, hearing of his renown, to arrive. Once he reached the west of the passes, the king immediately urged him to proclaim and translate it. Kumārajīva, considering that this treatise was deep and broad and could not easily be studied exhaustively in haste, made it concise and condensed the original into one hundred fascicles, using the regional language for ease and brevity. He calculated that what had been omitted was nearly more than three times as much. Yet scholars of literary style still considered it cumbersome; they were all encumbered by breadth and seldom plumbed its reality. It is like the great sacrificial broth being unseasoned—though its taste is plain, it is not a delicacy; or a divine pearl shining within—though a treasure, it is not used. That truthful words are not beautiful indeed has its precedent! If the orthodox scripture were to be hidden behind ornate flourishes, and the profound simplicity impaired by petty accomplishments, then the hundred schools would vie in disputation and the nine lineages of thought would contend like rivers; they would sink darkly into the long night, turning their backs on the sun and moon and perishing in darkness. Would that not be lamentable?

Thereupon, quietly searching for the reasons and seeking their roots, [I] knew that the sages set down instructions in accordance with the region, and simplicity and embellishment have distinct forms. If one meets simplicity with embellishment, those who doubt will be many; if one meets embellishment with simplicity, those who are pleased will be few. Therefore, when the teaching was practiced in India, the words were plain and the meaning subtle; the language was immediate and the purport far-reaching. When the meaning is subtle, it is hidden, dark, and without form; when the purport is far-reaching, its obscure threads cannot be traced. Thus, those who relish ordinary teachings are pulled by familiar habits, and those bound by conventional names and teachings are perplexed by what they have not heard. If one opens an easy path of progress, then the steps and footholds will have a basis; if one clarifies the method of gradual awakening, then those who first wade in will have a ford. I, Huiyuan, thereupon eliminated redundancies and pruned disorderly passages to make its middle clear, so that simplicity and embellishment would each have their form and the meaning would not be violated. I have relied on the sūtra to establish the fundamental text, appended the questions and discourses to it, and corrected their positions and divisions so that each category has its affiliation. Respectfully, together with the various monks residing with me, I have separately compiled an abridged essential collection, in twenty fascicles in all. Although it is not sufficient to add splendor to the sacred scripture, I hope it is free of major errors. If it is not yet satisfactory, I beg to await future men of wisdom.