出三藏記集 6

English (machine translation) 6

Language: English

Preface to the Sūtra of Forty-Two Chapters, Number 1 (Author unknown)
Preface to the Anban shouyi jing, Number 2 (by Dharma Master Senghui)
Preface to the Commentary on the Anban [shouyi jing], Number 3 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Anban shouyi jing, Number 4 (composed by Xie Fu)
Preface to the Yinchiru jing, Number 5 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Ren benyusheng jing, Number 6 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Liaoben shengsi jing, Number 7 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Twelve Gates Sūtra, Number 8 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Greater Twelve Gates Sūtra, Number 9 (by Dharma Master Dao'an)
Preface to the Fajing jing, Number 10 (by Dharma Master Senghui)

6.3

Preface to the Sūtra of Forty-Two Chapters, Number 1

6.4

Author unknown

6.5

In the past, Emperor Xiaoming of the Han dreamed at night that he saw a divine person whose body was golden and from the back of whose neck shone sunlight, flying before the palace hall. In his mind he was delighted and pleased with him. The next day he asked his ministers: "What god is this?" An erudite man named Fu Yi said: "Your subject has heard that in Tianzhu there is one who attained the Way, named the Buddha. He rises lightly and can fly; he is likely that deity." Thereupon the Emperor was awakened [to the truth]. He immediately dispatched the envoy Zhang Qian, the General of the Palace Gentlemen of the Feathered Forest Qin Jing, the Erudite's disciple Wang Zun, and others, twelve persons in all, to the Great Yuezhi to transcribe and bring back Buddhist sūtras. The Forty-Two Chapters was [contained] in fourteen stone caskets. Towers and monasteries were then erected. Thereupon the teachings of the Way spread abroad, and Buddhist monasteries were built everywhere. Those from distant lands who submitted to transformation and wished to become subjects and handmaidens were beyond count. The realm within was pure and tranquil, and sentient beings were graced by his favour and relied upon it, down to the present day without cessation.

6.6

Preface to the Anban shouyi jing, No. 2

6.7

By Kang Senghui

6.8

Now, ānāpāna is the Great Vehicle of all Buddhas, by which they ferry across the drifting flow of sentient beings. Its practice has six [stages], with which to govern the six passions. The passions are internal and external: the eyes, ears, nose, mouth, body, and mind are called internal; sights, sounds, scents, tastes, tangible softness, and deviant thoughts are called external. The sūtra says: "The twelve matters of all oceans" means that the receptive deviant conduct of the internal and external six passions is like the ocean receiving rivers, or a starving man dreaming of food—there is simply no satisfaction. The overflowing and agitation of the mind leaves nothing minute that is not pervaded; indistinct and fleeting, it exits and enters without intermission. Looking for it, it has no form; listening for it, it has no sound. Facing it, it has no front; following it, it has no rear. Deep, subtle, minute, and wondrous, in form it has not a single hair; [even] the voices of Brahmā, ṛṣis, and sages cannot illuminate it. It quietly plants seeds here and undergoes transformation and birth there; not being visible to ordinary folk, it is called the aggregate. It is as if in murky darkness a farmer sows millet and mustard: with an open hand he covers the seeds, multiplying into myriad billions; bystanders do not see their forms, nor does the farmer know their number. One decays below, and ten thousand sprout above. Within the snap of a finger, the mind turns nine hundred and sixty times; in one day and one night, there are one billion three hundred million thoughts, each thought possessing a single body, yet the mind is unaware of itself, just like that farmer. For this reason, the practitioner of stillness fastens his mind to the breath, counting from one to ten. If the count of ten is without error, the mind becomes settled in it. In a minor concentration for three days, or in a major concentration for seven days, still and without other thoughts, tranquil as if dead—this is called the first dhyāna. Dhyāna is discarding: discarding the one billion three hundred million defiled thoughts. Having already obtained the concentration of counting, one turns one's thought to following, eliminating eight and maintaining only two thoughts; the mind becomes settled in following, just as it was in counting. Defilement and turbidity are extinguished, and the mind gradually becomes pure; this is called the second dhyāna. Further eliminating one of them, one focuses attention on the tip of the nose; this is called stopping. Having attained the practice of stopping, the three poisons, four runnings, five aggregates, and six darknesses—all defilements are extinguished. Brightly the mind shines, surpassing a luminous moon pearl. Licentiousness and depravity soil the mind just as a mirror lying in mud is soiled by filth and dirt. Turned upward to reflect heaven or turned downward to face the earth, the intelligent, wise, holy, and discerning overlook and illuminate myriad lands, yet great as heaven and earth may be, not a single greatness can be seen. Why is this so? It is because of its dirt and turbidity; all defilements soil the mind even more than that mirror. If one obtains a fine master to scrape, polish, and grind it, sweeping away thin dust and slight obscurations without remainder, and holds it up to reflect, hair and facial complexion—nothing subtle will escape inspection. With dirt gone and brightness preserved, it makes it so. When passions overflow and the mind is scattered, among ten thousand thoughts not one is recognized. It is like racing one's mind and giving free rein to listening in a marketplace, collecting myriad sounds widely; yet upon returning to quiet contemplation, one does not recognize the words of a single person. When the heart runs wild and the mind is scattered, turbidity clouds its hearing. If from a solitary place one's mind contemplates in stillness, with an intention free from deviant desires, tilting the ear and quietly listening, then out of ten thousand sentences not a single word is lost—this is what tranquil mind and clear thought bring about. Practicing stillness and stopping the mind, suspending it at the tip of the nose: this is called the third dhyāna. Turning back to contemplate the body, from head to foot repeatedly inspecting its minutiae, the internal form is filthy and exposed, horrifying with hairs standing on end, as if seeing pus and snivel. Hereupon fully illuminating heaven, earth, people, and things, their flourishing is like decay, with nothing existing that does not perish. Believing in the Buddha and the Three Jewels, all darknesses become bright; this is called the fourth dhyāna. Gathering the mind and turning back thoughts, all aggregates are extinguished; this is called turning back. Filthy desires are still and exhausted, and the mind is without conceptualization; this is called purification. When one attains the practice of ānāpāna, his mind is instantly illuminated. Wherever he casts his gaze, nothing hidden is unseen: things of countless kalpas past or yet to come, the experiences of people and things in the present realms, all the Dharma teachings of the World-Honoured One therein, and the disciples reciting and practicing—nowhere is too distant to be seen, no sound is unheard. Indistinct and fleeting, existing and perishing at his own free will, greatly he pervades the eight extremes, minutely he threads a fine hair. He governs heaven and earth, preserves life and lifespan, with fierce spiritual virtue crushes heavenly armies, shakes the trichiliocosm, and moves various realms. The eight incomprehensible wonders are beyond the measure of Brahmā; their spiritual virtue is boundless, originating from the six practices. When the World-Honoured One first wished to preach this sūtra, the great chiliocosm shook and trembled, and humans and gods changed colour. For three days of ānāpāna, none could question him. Thereupon the World-Honoured One transformed into two bodies: one called "What is it?" and one the Honoured Lord; they expounded this meaning, and it was revealed. Great beings and superior men, the six pairs and twelve ranks—none did not put it into practice. There was a bodhisattva named An Qing, courtesy name Shigao, the son of the principal queen of the king of Anxi. He yielded the kingdom to his uncle, sped away to escape his homeland, and, soaring like a bird, made progress until he finally settled in the capital. As a man, he was erudite and broadly knowledgeable, grasping the spiritual patterns, the waxing and waning of the seven planets, the fortune and misfortune of winds and weather, mountain collapses and earthquakes, the techniques of acupuncture and curing parasites, diagnosing illness by observing complexion, and comprehending every cry and call of birds and beasts. Cherishing the great benevolence of heaven and earth and pitying the ignorant darkness of the common folk, he first cleared their ears and then opened their eyes, wishing their sight and hearing to be clear. Gradually he expounded the six perfections of the correct and true, and translated the secret marvels of ānāpāna. Scholars arose like dust, and none did not cast aside defiled conduct to take up the virtue of pure integrity. I was born in the final traces, only just able to carry firewood. My deceased father and mother have passed away, and my three masters have perished. Looking up to the clouds and sun, I grieve that I have none to question and receive instruction from; looking back and reflecting on this, tears stream down. My past fortune has not yet vanished, and I chanced to meet Han Lin of Nanyang, Pi Ye of Yingchuan, and Chen Hui of Kuaiji. These three worthy men were earnest and devoted in their faith in the Way, holding to virtue grandly and correctly, advancing diligently, and aspiring to the Way untiringly. I followed them and made inquiries; like compasses matching and carpenter's squares aligning, our understanding was without divergence. Chen Hui annotated the meanings, while I assisted in weighing and selecting them. Not being transmitted from a master, I dared not take liberties on my own. The words are mostly vulgar and clumsy, not exhausting the Buddha's intent. May the bright and discerning worthies examine it together. If there are excrescences or errors in the meaning, may the sagely edit and correct them, jointly making its spiritual harmony manifest.

6.9

Preface to the Commentary on the Anban [shouyi jing], No. 3

6.10

By Shi Dao'an

6.11

"Anban" means exhalation and inhalation. The Way is lodged in that wherein nothing does not serve as a cause; virtue resides in that wherein nothing does not serve as a support. Therefore, ānāpāna lodges in the breath to accomplish mindfulness, and the four dhyānas reside in the physical frame to accomplish concentration. Because it lodges in the breath, there is the graduation of six stages; because it resides in the frame, there is the distinction of four levels. As for the graduation of stages, one diminishes it and diminishes it further, so as to arrive at non-action. As for the distinction of levels, one forgets it and forgets it further, so as to arrive at desirelessness. Because of non-action, there is no form that it does not accommodate; because of desirelessness, there is no affair that it does not fit. Because there is no form it does not accommodate, it can open up beings; because there is no affair it does not fit, it can accomplish tasks. To accomplish tasks is to adapt to all existences from their own perspective; to open up beings is to cause all under heaven to forget both self and others. When both other and self are eliminated, one is mindful only of mindfulness itself. Therefore, the Xiuxing jing uses these two dharmas to achieve stillness. One who attains this stillness shakes the great chiliocosm upon lifting a foot, grasps the sun and moon upon waving a hand, blows away the Iron Encircling Mountains with a swift breath, and makes Mount Sumeru dance with a gentle sigh. These all mount the wondrous stopping of the four dhyānas and harness the great fluency of the six breaths. Indeed, when one holds to stillness to harness existence, and guides the root to move the branches, what difficulty can there be? Ānāpāna occupies one of the ten recollections; among the five faculties, it is the faculty of mindfulness. Therefore, the compiler of the Dharmapada placed it under the Chapter on Mindfulness. In the past, at the end of the Han dynasty, there was An Shigao, who had heard much, investigated antiquity, and was especially dedicated to the Abhidharma. Among the sūtras he translated, dhyāna and enumeration were the most detailed. This sūtra was translated by him. This is indeed an essential path for hastening toward the Way—how could anyone not follow this path? At the beginning of the Wei, Kang Senghui annotated its meaning; where the meaning was obscure or not yet evident, I, Dao'an, unaware of my own inadequacy, have ventured to follow my predecessor in explaining what follows below. I hope merely with a mosquito's wing to assist the prabhañjana wind, or with a drop of mist to augment the great chasm.

6.12

Preface to the Anban shouyi jing, No. 4

6.13

Composed by Xie Fu

6.14

Now, the mind is the sprouting root of all suffering, the primordial origin of deviating from correctness. Unbridled and wanton, adrift without bound, it is like a madman with nothing to rely on. Affection and aversion fill its core; it is steeped in benightedness without measure, like barbarian tribes lacking a ruler. How subtle it is! Approaching it, there is no form; seeking it, there is no omen; thus a hair's tip is not enough to illustrate its minuteness. How swift it is! Tumbling and flitting, it circles the universe in an instant; thus racing lightning is not enough to compare with its speed. Therefore, in the snap of a finger, there are nine hundred and sixty transitions; in a day and a night, one billion three hundred million thoughts. Every mental impulse must invite retribution, forming the planting seeds of birth and death. What is sown in a single lifetime spreads and entangles for kalpas on end. All ordinary beings within the three realms who cling to inverted views sink and drown in this deep abyss, none able to return by themselves. The Rightly Awakened One, out of loving-kindness and compassion, opened and revealed the path of wisdom, guarding against the gradual origins of their final calamity and blocking the subtle omens of their anger and desire. For them, he opened the essential path of ānāpāna: obliterating arising and ceasing so as to enter dark tranquility, unfolding the limbs of awakening so as to nourish serenity, establishing the ten wisdoms so as to enter the subtle, binding the unrestrained feet of the nine spirits, and damming the torrential flow of the seven consciousnesses. Hence it is called 'guarding the mind.' As for those who subdue coarse defilements without cutting away the fetters of outflows, there are also those who, hoping for a pleasant outcome, shut out sights and sounds from their vision and hearing, quell worldly thoughts through dhyāna stillness, take advantage of the auspicious signs of tranquil calm, and receive the splendid blessings of the form heavens. Yet their correct purpose becomes lost in flourishing pleasures, and their past practice is submerged in mutual ease. As they pridefully grasp at their field of merit, it diminishes by the day; the roots of poison arise in succession, and their transgressions follow upon them. Thus they transmigrate through the five destinies, hard to extricate for millions of kalpas; caught in the snare of desires, their plight is worse than a deep prison. That this is brought about is entirely due to lacking wisdom, delighting in concentration, and not contemplating the gates to the path. As for entering dhyāna by relying on wisdom, there are also three classes. Those who, fearing suffering, extinguish form, delighting in resting in nirvāṇa, and whose intentions rest upon saving themselves without striving to benefit others as well, belong to the unattached vehicle (the Arhat vehicle). Those who look up and hope for the wondrous marks, still having something to cast off as nothingness, and who do not establish great compassion to thoroughly smelt away the fetters of conditions, are called pratyekabuddhas. As for the bodhisattva, they profoundly realize the root of existence and thoroughly understand the nothingness of conditioned arising. To realize the root is that existence itself is empty; to understand nothingness is that conditioned arising is constantly tranquil. Because it is of itself empty, they do not emerge from existence to enter nothingness; because it is constantly tranquil, they do not exhaust conditions to return to emptiness. Abiding in the principle, existence is not an object of conditions; because it is not an object of conditions, there is no nothingness from which to be freed. If one can settle the mind and grasp the essentials, awakening to the principle upon contacting existence, then one does not rely on the external to quiet the internal, nor does one depend on dhyāna to accomplish wisdom. Hence it is said: 'An avaivartika does not follow the four dhyānas.' If worldly dust obscures the mind so that wisdom does not constantly stand firm, then one relies on ānāpāna to put an end to galloping thoughts, just as a farmer clears his field, or as one polishes and scrapes a bright mirror. Yet weeding and tilling is not done for the sake of the ground itself; rather, when the ground is clear, the seeds flourish. Polishing and scraping is not done for the sake of the mirror itself; rather, when the mirror is clean, it shines clearly. Therefore, when an enlightened being practices dhyāna, it is not for the sake of preserving stillness, but for letting the mind roam in the dark mystery. Beginning with the initial aspiration, their vows of compassion are vast and universal; holding expedient means and accumulating merit, they forget their own timeline to bring peace to the multitude. Although the multitude is delivered, no one is freed [as a separate self]; one discards knowledge and sets aside the fish trap. This is called the bodhisattva not extinguishing thoughts to realize the fruit. Although these three vehicles equally rely on the tranquility of dhyāna, when it comes to establishing their intent, their beginnings each have their own destination. Therefore, practitioners should broaden their minds with grand plans and plant their seeds right at the start. In the decline of the Han dynasty, there was a renunciant enlightened being named An Qing, courtesy name Shigao, the crown prince of the King of Parthia. Discerning the floating impermanence of glory and disgrace, and viewing life and death as an unbroken thread, he cast off the bonds of a royal court of ten thousand chariots, embraced dark virtue, and roamed to transform others. Expounding the teachings of the Path to dispel blindness, he manifested spiritual transformations to inspire trust. At that time, outstanding men who returned to the source, discarding outer elegance to venerate reality, were like birds and beasts following the qilin and phoenix, or scaled and shelled creatures hurrying toward the dragon and great tortoise. Furthermore, he was broadly conversant with diverse customs and skilled in the languages of many countries. He transmitted this sūtra, transforming it into Jin prose. The translations he produced exceeded a million words; plumbing and thoroughly expressing profound subtleties, they were deep, abstruse, and hard to fathom. As for this ānāpāna scripture, although its text is concise, its meaning connects with all sūtras; from the shallow to the refined, all practices are fully set forth. Among the first essentials of study, what could surpass it? If a practitioner desires to concentrate the spirit and return to simplicity, delivering the path without limit, and yet does not follow this method, how does that differ from a man with amputated feet climbing Mount Tai, or one attempting to ascend the void without wings? Śākyamuni Tathāgata's wondrous wisdom was already sufficient in previous kalpas, and he passed through countless [eons] secretly transforming beings. When the karmic circumstances of sentient beings were complete and announced as fulfilled, he still manifested six years of practice to serve as the start of the teaching. Truly, to settle and unify confusion, nothing surpasses this! Viewing it from this perspective, can one not apply oneself to it? I, Xie Fu, have been tainted by habit and submerged in darkness, accumulating transgressions across kalpas. Born apart from the Buddha, I have not witnessed his spiritual transformations. Although by slight fortune I have been able to receive the bequeathed scriptures, my emotional thoughts are entangled and overgrown, and my roots of the Path are not yet firm. Looking up with joy to the holy tracks, I have not yet stepped on them even for a moment; morning and evening I am fearful and trembling, distressed as if grieving. Therefore, with a sincere heart, I chant and recite them so as to amass learned habits; whenever I encounter the bright and wise, I always inquire about my sticking points. Yet the dark ancestral truth is already remote, and semantic explanations differ slightly. Thereupon, I gathered the words of the eminent and gathered them together for recording. Although I had heard the general outlines, those who had not awakened were many. Thereupon, following my humble thoughts, I examined and checked the various enumerations, searching for clear evidence, and successively compiled them into an annotated commentary. I also extracted corresponding matters from various scriptures on the practice of the Mahā-ānāpāna, citing and combining them. Sometimes I arranged the hidden and the manifest together to slightly ease the trouble of searching. The path of the scriptures is grand and deep; it is neither something my shallow mind can assess, nor can my coarse phrasing express one part in ten thousand. It only adds defilement to the principle; how dare I say it is sufficient to elucidate and fuse the wondrous meaning? In truth, I only wished to record privately what I know to prevent forgetting. If there are readers, I hope they will understand my shortcomings and correct my foolish errors.

6.15

Preface to the Scripture on the Skandhas, Dhātus, and Āyatanas, Number Five

6.16

By Shi Dao'an

6.17

The aggregates, sense-fields, and elements are a profound malady of the world. They gallop through human minds, transforming virtue into madness: ears become deaf and mouths lose taste; beings are drunk on glory and favor, embracing ignorance and plunging into darkness, weeping bitterly in the three destinies. This disease is like leprosy: it penetrates the bones and reaches the marrow, leaving good physicians to fold their hands in despair. It is like an epileptic fit: when it strikes, all is plunged into darkness, with no awareness of anything. The Great Sage, mourning this, felt grief arising from within; forgetting his own body, he serenely stepped into the charcoal embers, bearing thick virtue and enduring wild attacks. He observed the snares dense as heavy clouds and halted the hunting nets across the eight directions. Great ignorance could no longer flap its wings, and the love of fame could no longer sprint ahead. He gathered good thoughts from the tip of a fine hair, and plucked the ferocious and stubborn from the tiger's mouth. Taking great tranquility as supreme joy, the five notes could not deafen his ears; taking non-action as the true flavor, the five flavors could not corrupt his palate. Shining his physical form in the defiled world, those he rescued were beyond count; when his descents to instruct reached their end, he sank secretly into the nameless. The various unattached ones [the arhats] soon each took flight and passed away. The assembly of great disciples deeply feared that the wondrous Dharma would become confounded, abandoned, and lost. Thereupon, they had Kāśyapa compile what Ānanda had transmitted into a total of three baskets [the Tripiṭaka], which encompass the dark and vast, difficult to fathom and measure. When the Hero of the World administers medicine, he must base it on the original illness. Illnesses cannot be uniform; for this reason, the various scriptures depend on one another to be complete, and none but the talented and holy can synthesize and master them. From then onward, eminent masters of spiritual penetrations each composed interpretations, or surveyed and compiled various scriptures to serve as models of practice. Are they not like a pearl necklace? One selects those precious pearls to set off their forms and colors, wearing them on the chest or crown as radiance and ornament. Is it not like painting? One blends and distinguishes the various pigments to depict glorious splendor. What the wise and discerning have compiled is just like this. This scripture is of that very sort. There was a renunciant enlightened being hailing from Parthia, courtesy name Shigao, whose great compassion flowed everywhere, spreading transformation to this land. Translating Fan into Jin, he revealed the subtle and elucidated the profound. What he expounded and disseminated was exclusively devoted to dhyāna contemplation; pure and abstruse numerical doctrines were deep and far-reaching. This scripture is among those he brought forth. Of the evils of the aggregates and sense-fields, people do not know the suffering; therefore, the ancient sages illuminated them with calming and insight. The knots of the aggregates are diminished day by day, completing the chapter on nirvāṇa. Unless one recognizes the crucial juncture, who could take part in this? From the beginning to the nine eliminations, there are forty-five medicines in all. Cutting off and understanding through wisdom to enter the three divisions completes the four truths. From the twelve links of conditioned arising to the division on purifying dharmas completes the four confidences. As for its practice, it is solely spiritual, hence accomplished without words; it is solely wondrous, hence reached without traveling. One who unifies this practice is clear and unobstructed in all four directions, establishes the roots and attains the eye, becomes a son of the Ten Powers, succeeds to the lineage of the Dharma King, and sheds moisture over the great thousand worlds. If one seeks realization, one uproots the three fetters, maintains life to accomplish the Path, and directly reaches the arhat. This is indeed the boat and oar of the Great Vehicle, the vital gateway to nirvāṇa. In this land of Jin, dhyāna contemplation has grown lax and abandoned; though students have arisen, scarcely any have exhausted their outflows. Why is this? Dhyāna contemplation preserves the abstruse, smelts the subtle, and enters tranquility; whatever stage of the Path one seeks to attain, it is like looking into the palm of one's hand. Neglecting and abandoning this essential, yet hoping to witness realization—is that not difficult? I, Dao'an, having accumulated sins from the recent past, was born to encounter the hundredfold snares, with the barbarians causing severe distress. The holy guides of the world secretly fled to the Jin mountains; living in solitude apart from the community, hidden away in a deep ravine, I stole time to read these texts. With shallow knowledge and solitary views, I was blocked and could not penetrate them; night and day I harbored doubts, with nowhere to consult or verify them. Just then, the bhikṣu Zhu Faji of Taiyang and the man of the Path Zhi Tanjiang of Bingzhou, scaling precipitous heights and braving bandits, gathered from afar with great devotion. These two scholars were lofty, clear, broadly learned, and untiring in instruction. Thereupon, together with them, I solved perplexities, smoothed impediments, and composed this commentary. Living in an age without the Buddha and residing in a frontier realm, sounds and customs are different, and standards are not the same. Moreover, measuring the holy with foolishness, it is difficult to reach it. I only hope that for those who have not yet stepped on the path, this may offer a slight, humble aid; I do not dare presume to have definitively analyzed and fathomed the scripture's meaning.

6.18

Preface to the Scripture on the Origin of Human Desires and Birth, Number Six

6.19

By Shi Dao'an

6.20

The Scripture on the Origin of Human Desires and Birth illuminates the twelve links of conditioned arising to accomplish the four truths. 'Origin' is ignorance; 'desire' is craving; 'birth' is birth-and-death. It briefly raises three of the twelve to serve as the title. When people are in birth-and-death, there are none who do not drift and stagnate in the three periods of time, flutter and become entangled in the nine abodes of beings, or remain bound up in the eight bonds. Among the nine abodes, the twelve links of conditioned arising concern the first, human as well as heavenly. That which the four truths examine examines the nine abodes. That which the eight liberations correct corrects the eight wrongs. When wrongs are corrected, there is nowhere one goes without serenity; when the abodes are examined, there is nowhere one goes without joy. Because there is nowhere one goes without joy, one can clearly illuminate and broadly penetrate. Because there is nowhere one goes without serenity, one can spiritually transform and respond to encounters. Spiritually transforming and responding to encounters, one is swift without haste; clearly illuminating and broadly penetrating, one transforms without speaking. Transforming without speaking, therefore no person is abandoned; swift without haste, therefore no thing is neglected. That things are not neglected and people are not abandoned is due to dhyāna and wisdom. Therefore, a scripture says: 'The Path approaches nirvāṇa by means of dhyāna and wisdom.' How could this be false? Truly, it is the essential of drawing near and returning. This scripture appears to have been translated into the Jin language by An Shigao. The words are ancient and the text is thorough; the meaning is wondrous and the principle is refined. Those who behold the beauty of its inner halls and the richness of its palace courts are perhaps few. Whenever I read its text, though wanting to rest, I cannot. What brings me delight and appears before me is the wonder of the three contemplations; what I contemplate and preserve are the words on the cessation of thought. Taking advantage of my leisure, I have dared to make an excerpted commentary on it. Where the meaning is the same but the text differs, I have added no further explanation.

6.21

Preface to the Scripture on Understanding the Root of Birth and Death, Number Seven

6.22

By Shi Dao'an

6.23

Now, the wondrous carriage of the four convictions is the treasured carriage of the All-Blessed One, used to transport sentient beings bound by inverted views. All those within the three realms fail not to crown themselves with ignorance, gird on action, dance like babes in birth and death, hasten to the shaded chambers, court sights and tastes, drive on in confusion and doubt, and race through the nine abodes. Furthermore, they grow familiar with the unworthy and insult the sages, indulging their villainy; brandishing swords of greed and axes of anger, they decapitate the mysterious path and slander the supreme essentials, fully tasting disasters and woes. The Hero of the World looked on them with pity, deeply contriving transformed devices: the banner of the Dharma shone amidst layers of rainbows, and the drum of the Way thundered like a lion's roar. A thousand obstacles were silenced throughout the eight quarters; the halberd of wisdom breached the three existences. Thereupon, shattering the crown of ignorance and breaking the girdles of infantile habits, they mounted the carriage of faith and entered the track of the truths; causes and conditions ceased, and the four joys were accomplished. Therefore it is called *Understanding the Root of Birth and Death*. *Liao* means to understand; *ben* is ignorance, the very origin. The Tathāgata merely pointed out one corner, and Śāriputra expanded upon the sublime purport, adducing hidden praises—how beautiful, how magnificent! If one reckons that the body possesses a life-principle, one is bound along with conditions, slandering the Buddha and destroying faith, as if veiled in a dark chamber. If one understands emptiness and the lack of a life-principle, the four truths are accomplished, faith is clearly established, like the palace of the sun adorning the heavens. This is indeed the lofty foundation of the fifty-six medicines, profoundly deep; it is the source of the myriad practices! In unfolding subtleties and accomplishing tasks, what could take precedence? When the Buddha first attained the Way and grandly established great compassion, this sūtra was one of the sixteen [essential teachings]. Among the holy teachers of the Tripiṭaka in Tianzhu, none failed to take it as the head of the teachings and investigate its subtleties. In the declining years of the Han, this sūtra first arrived in this land; yet it was refined, deep, and abstruse, so few attained its goal. In the beginning of the Wei dynasty, there was a man of lofty character, Zhi Gongming of Henan, who made an annotated commentary to probe the mystery and resolve hindrances; he may truly be called one who entered the inner chamber. A preeminent sage of an earlier generation, he was well able to analyze its central meaning. Yet among the childish and ignorant, there were still those who did not comprehend. Thus, following in his prior footsteps, I have appended an explanation where it was not yet glossed, not presumptuously inventing anything so as to confound red with purple. Perhaps those dwelling alone and newly advancing may thereby resolve their doubts.

6.24

Preface to the *Twelve Gates Sūtra*, No. 8

6.25

Shi Dao'an

6.26

The twelve gates are the titles of the essential samādhis, the passes and paths of the six pairs. Samādhi has three senses: dhyāna, equanimity, and emptiness. They are used to cure the severe and complicated diseases of the three poisons. Plunged into these dark plights, the affliction has grown deep with each day. The prison of greed, the jail of anger, and the castle of ignorance are exceedingly firm; people of the world roam within them like going up a terrace in spring, happily dwelling in delight as if in a splendid palace, amusing and entertaining themselves without knowing it to be suffering. Tasting bitterness and hastening disaster, they are exhausted in the five destinies; only the Perfectly Awakened One recognizes their errors. Pitying the suffering of inverted views and grieving at the pain of drifting like tumbleweed, he established expedient means to prevent the sprouts and stop the beginnings, opening these wise concentrations to let them cleanse themselves, blunting sharpness, unraveling entanglements, and returning the spirit to the mysterious path. Truly, without utmost virtue, this Way does not crystallize. Now, the perverted mind inevitably has subtle and manifest aspects; therefore, the methods of dhyāna are graduated by four. The prison of greed and lust means running wild with sensual desire, rebelling against propriety without distinguishing the noble from the lowly, confounding the mind in debauchery, becoming mad through habit; the ruin of states and the destruction of persons never fail to stem from this. Deluded by vanity and intoxicated with emptiness, they do not know it is an illusion. Hence, by contemplating corpses scattered in decay, they gradually cut it off through self-awakening, from subtle thoughts reaching quietude, relishing the tasteless; therefore they are called the four dhyānas. The jail of anger and hatred means contending over trifles of empty reputation, tying knots of severe faults across lifetimes; familial love is severed for momentary gratification, and friendships rot through indulging rage, bearing grudges to the marrow and destroying clans without remorse. The sages saw that the violent do not die a natural death, and thus instructed them with equanimity, being sincere toward enemies and kin alike, rendering the intention utmost gentle, enduring defilement and bearing suffering, subduing it before it erupts into disorder. When mellow virtue is deep and rich, even incantations cannot plant their horns—how much less can human harm affect them! Therefore they are called the four equanimities. The castle of ignorance means slandering ancient sages, vilifying the ultimate truth, disrespecting both parents, and looking down on teachers and masters; this disease is especially grave. Using wisdom to probe the root, one knows that it derives from ignorance and craving; distinguishing the subsidiary branches, one understands them to be confusion. Refining the mind and driving out evil, the madness is cured; therefore they are called the four emptinesses. When practitioners draw from the deep nectar of the ocean of dhyāna, it waters the raging fire of bewilderment; when they stir the deep currents of pure emptiness, it washes away the filthy grime of the dust of ignorance, and thereupon they become purely and brightly aligned with the great simplicity. Practicing these three, one knows how to govern the body; knowing how to govern the body, one knows how to settle the spirit; knowing how to settle the spirit, one knows how to deliver people. Now then, sūtras, whether grand or subtle, emerge from the Buddha's mouth; composed by his divine mind, his words are treasures for the world. After the sun of wisdom sank, the three realms lost their eyes. Although the treasury of sūtras remains, its profound words are hard to fathom; unless one is of utmost refinement, who can reach its subtleties? Thereupon the various bodhisattvas and arhats each composed explanations and glosses, elucidating the hidden mysteries and distinguishing the degrees and coherence, so that it became brilliantly clear and easy to see. Exhausting the spirit and knowing transformation—what could be added to this? From the twelve gates onward, it is indeed an explanatory commentary. In general, when students practice the twelve gates, they eliminate supernatural powers and extinguish external coarse stops; this is called completing the five paths. Advancing along the faculties of the three aspirants, they melt away inner fetters; this is called exhausting all contaminations. When one first enters the exhaustion of contaminations, one is named non-retrogressing. The Buddhas praise them and prophesy their titles of fruition; profoundly unfathomable, they alone see and comprehend; immeasurably divine, they alone can master it. Rising above the clouds and ascending lightly, their pure light illumines the obscure; moving oceans and flying peaks, they issue like wind and enter like lightning. If this is so for the shallow ones, how much more so for attaining Buddhahood! This is indeed the great highway of the three vehicles; what does not stem from this samādhi? From the first setting forth of footsteps to the state of uncontaminated purity, all, without exception, go round and begin anew, practicing this concentration. If practitioners wish to exalt their virtue and expand their tasks without advancing in this method, it is like seeking to chop down a tree without an axe-handle, or seeking fullness without eating: it will be difficult to attain. Is it not wonderful for awakened gentlemen to hear of this essential concentration? Dao'an was naturally unperceptive, born after the Buddha, and situated in a foreign land. Standard models are largely lacking; looking up in longing to the achievements of the ancients, blocked and not yet having penetrated, waking and sleeping I am anxious and startled, as if suffering a headache, constantly lamenting that the dhyāna practice of this country has fallen into decay. I have ventured to write a commentary at the ends of the phrases; although it is not sufficient to illuminate the sacred canon, it may enlighten the ignorant, and perhaps make it easier to read. An Shigao was skilled at opening up the categories of dhyāna; this sūtra seems to be what he produced, so I have recorded it at the end.

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Preface to the *Greater Twelve Gates Sūtra*, No. 9

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Shi Dao'an

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Now, the cessation of lust lies in understanding form; it does not depend on barriers and restraints. The termination of existence lies in understanding physical shape; it does not depend on mindfulness of emptiness. When form is understood, alluring beauty cannot sway one; when physical shape is understood, the formless realm cannot detain one. As for not being swayed: even if celestial demons display jade-like faces and alluring, voluptuous charms, nothing can overthrow one—this is what is called firmness. As for not being detained: even roaming in emptiness without consciousness, serene and of eternal lifespan, nothing can hinder one—this is what is called truth. Why so? One grasps antiquity to master existence; with a wondrous mind, one understands form. Though dwelling among the multitudes, they are like straw dogs; nirvāṇa is like an illusion. How could one merely control the physical shape and value the formless? Therefore, the sages used dhyāna to guard against lust, and lust left no trace; they used the four emptinesses to extinguish existence, and existence ceased to appear. That lust ceases depends on clarifying that the myriad forms never began to exist, and that the hundreds of transformations are like an inn. Resentment and grudge arise from 'this' and 'that'; once 'this' and 'that' arise, enemies are formed; when enemies are formed, roaring wrath blazes forth; when blazing wrath erupts, it stops at nothing, reaching the point where the spirit cannot be preserved in the prison of dark thoughts, suffering bitter and harsh poisons yet delighting in them as sweet. Therefore, the Tathāgata instructed them with equanimity: when one equalizes what is hard to equalize, where can one go without equalizing? Once the mind of equanimity is abundant, the root of resentment ceases. Is this not doing it before it exists, planning for the difficult while it is still easy? Thus the three wicked indulgences cease entirely, and the twelvefold heavy gates are broadly opened. When the root is established, the Way arises; when awakening is established, the Way is completed. None fails to rely on the twelve gates to establish the root of concentration so as to welcome the excellence of the Way. Great persons effect transformations: their glorious light covers the four quarters, they flick Mount Sumeru, blow upon spray across a thousand fathoms, and quietly shake other realms; but they must first enter proper reception. It is clear that without dhyāna there is nothing to unite with the boundless without lingering, and without concentration there is nothing to encompass the myriad forms without obstruction. When dhyāna and concentration are unflagging, what is there to spiritual transformations? Utmost! Exhaustive! Nothing can be added to it! This sūtra was produced by Shigao. Its phrasing and purport are elegant and dense, correct and not ostentatious; compared to other dhyāna sūtras, it is the most refined and detailed. Checking the record after the sūtra, it says: in the seventh year of Jiahe, it was copied in Jianye at the residence of Director of Retainers Zhou, and locked away in a bamboo hamper for nearly two hundred years. In obscurity, it was not circulated, and no one had heard its title. The monk Zhu Daohu found it among the scriptures of a worthy person in the territory of Dongyuan and sent it to Huoze, where it was finally circulated. Soon after he obtained the sūtra, his house caught fire; had Daohu not seen it, it would have been turned to ashes and charcoal. Naturally, this dhyāna would have been lost, and later mortals would not have been able to hear this sūtra. As for this sūtra: instructed by the eight sounds and serving as a model for the four paths, it is concise without superfluous words, and repeated without unnecessary brevity; in refined principles entering into dhyāna, what could surpass it? Earlier generations also regarded it as an independent tradition of intuitive understanding; therefore, I have preserved it in full and placed it in sequence. When Shigao produced sūtras, he valued the original and did not ornament the ancient Indian phrasing; the writing was thoroughly plain. Browsing through it in haste, one sometimes fails to comprehend. Now I have made brief notes following after the predecessors, not daring to confound red with purple, in the hope that it may bring awakening.

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Preface to the *Dharma Mirror Sūtra*, No. 10

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Kang Senghui

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Now, the mind is the origin of all dharmas, the root of good and bad; springing from the same source with different names, misfortune and fortune flow apart. Taking the body as a carriage and household as a state, it roams the ten directions without fatigue or rest. Household desires are hard to satisfy, like the ocean swallowing rivers or fire catching firewood; the ravages of the six evils are far worse than caltrops or nets preying on fish. Flattering women are like the three corpses: their goodness is false and their trustworthiness scant; this is the calamity of the household! They honor the perverse and crippled, despising the pure and true; entangling clusters of petty concerns, they slander the sages and worthies, causing lawsuits and ruining the nine familial relations—such is what stems from the household. Therefore, superior persons are ashamed of its crookedness and fear its plagues, being constantly fearful of it, quietly contemplating escape and departure, like the wise and enlightened fleeing an unprincipled state. Shaving their hair and altering their appearance, they treasure the Dharma robes, quietly dwelling in temples, refining their sentiments, and expelling defilement; harboring the Way and proclaiming virtue, they open and guide the deaf and blind. Some dwell in seclusion among mountains and marshes, pillowing on stones and rinsing their mouths with streams, concentrating their minds to wash away grime, their spirit uniting with the Way. Their aims are quiet and equal to the nameless; their bright transformation is identical with all living beings. Worthies and sages vie in purity and quietude, calling this Way the Great Illumination; hence it is called the *Dharma Mirror*. Cavalry Commandant An Xuan and Yan Fodiao of Linhuai—these two worthies, when their hair was bound in youth, broadened their resolve for the sacred enterprise, probing depths and reaching the distant, exhausting the spirit and penetrating the obscure. Pitying the world's bewilderment and ignorance of the Great Elegance, they exhausted their minds to translate and transmit this sūtra's exemplary pattern. The Commandant recited it orally, and Yan Diao recorded it with his brush. The words conform to antiquity, and the principles are subtle and profound. However, at that time weapons of war were not yet laid down, and men of aspiration dared not take leisure. The Great Way declined, and internal students had heard little. Seeing that its glorious teaching could rescue the utmost perils of the mire and ashes, yet its principles were blocked and not understood, taking advantage of leisure I exhausted my foolishness to write an annotated commentary on its meaning. Since losing my teacher years ago, there has been no way to re-examine doubts; my heart is indignant and my mouth falters, so I halt my brush in sorrow. Longing for the distant past and admiring the sages, tears and snivel stream together. Now I record my understanding and leave doubts open, awaiting later wise and enlightened persons, in the hope that it will be fully brought to fruition so as to manifest the Three Jewels.

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Fascicle 6 of the Prefaces of the *Collection of Records on the Translation of the Tripiṭaka*

Linked texts (1)

出三藏記集 — 僧祐, Classical Chinese