Buddhist Monastic Traditions of Southern Asia (南海寄歸內法傳)

A Record of Buddhist Practices Sent Home from the Southern Sea, Volume One(with preface)

Translated by the Tripitaka Master Yijing

In the beginning, when the three thousand realms were first established, the signs of emergence and formation began to appear. Though a hundred billion worlds had already come into being, there was yet no order of beings or affairs. The world was empty and vast, with no sun or moon yet shining. In that profound stillness, there was no distinction between light and dark, no division of yin and yang.

Then, pure celestial beings descended, their bodies radiating light naturally. As they partook of the earth's richness, greed arose within them. They consumed forest vines and fragrant rice, one after another, and gradually their bodily light faded. Only then did the sun and moon appear. The affairs of husband and wife, farming and labor, began to arise; the ways of ruler and subject, father and son, were established.

Looking upward, they observed the azure heavens—the majestic, luminous colors of Mount Sumeru floating in light. Looking downward, they examined the yellow earth—wind stirring the waters, forming solid land. Some say the two realms divided, and humans were born within them, sensing the clear and turbid energies, coming into being naturally. They speak of yin and yang molding all things like a great furnace, shaping beings as a potter shapes clay—but these are but shallow, misguided theories.

Thus, mountains rose and stars scattered; sentient beings multiplied and spread. This gave rise to ninety-six different paths and twenty-five schools of truth. The Samkhya taught that from the One, the myriad things were born; the Vaisheshika held that from six principles, the five destinies arose. Some, baring their bodies or tearing their hair, believed this to be liberation. Others, covering themselves in ashes or knotting their hair, thought it would lead to heaven. Some claimed life arises naturally; others said consciousness extinguishes at death. Some spoke of a dark, unknowable mystery—vague and elusive, with no discernible origin. Some insisted humans always remain human; others said the dead become ghosts. Some debated whether the butterfly was themselves, or they the butterfly—lost in confusion, like the wasp mistaking the caterpillar for its own.

All these are like the muddled chaos within an egg, like the dim ignorance of an infant. They have not yet realized that all arises from craving, exists through karma, and revolves in the sea of suffering, wandering lost through the cycles of rebirth.

Thus, the one who pointed out the straight path, personally proclaimed the profound truth, taught the twelve links of dependent origination, attained the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment, was called the Teacher of Gods and Humans and the All-Knowing One, guided all beings out of the burning house of suffering, rescued them from the dark city of the three realms, led them across the river of afflictions to the shore of Nirvana—this is our great teacher, the World-Honored One, Shakyamuni Buddha.

When he first attained perfect enlightenment by the Nairañjanā River, the nine realms of beings awakened the hope of transcending the dust of the world. Later, when his light moved to the Deer Park, the six realms of beings flourished with hearts of refuge. At the first turning of the Dharma wheel, five ascrites received his teachings. When he later spoke of the precepts, countless beings bowed in reverence. Thus, he proclaimed the sacred teachings in Rājagṛha, and those who attained the fruits of practice were beyond number. In gratitude for his kindness in his father’s city, those who resolved to follow the path were beyond measure.

From the initial teachings for those of sharp faculties, he fulfilled his original vow with sincerity. To the end, with the wise and virtuous, he met their later aspirations through mindful practice. For eighty years, he sustained the teachings and compassionately aided beings in the nine abodes. There was no depth of teaching he did not reveal, no subtle capacity he did not accommodate. For lay followers, he briefly taught the five precepts; for the monastic community, he fully expounded the seven categories of monastic rules. He taught that attachment to existence is a great fault—when precepts arise, faults cease. Clinging to life is a minor transgression—when discipline is clear, transgressions vanish. For instance, harming even a small branch leads to rebirth among dragons, while compassionate care for even a tiny life results in ascent to heavenly realms. The retribution of good and evil is clearly evident.

Thus, he taught both sutras and treatises, established both meditation and wisdom. The essential means for guiding beings lie solely in these three baskets of teachings. When he personally taught the great assembly, his teaching was singular; yet he skillfully adapted to save beings, with no other principle beyond this. When he first taught in Vaiśālī, Māra rejoiced in confusion; later, by the Hiraṇyavatī River, Ananda clarified the truth of non-doubt. It can be said that his teaching mission was complete, his work fully accomplished.

Then, his traces vanished by the two rivers, leaving gods and humans in sorrow; his form disappeared beneath the twin sāla trees, causing dragons and spirits to grieve. In the Śāla Grove, tears fell and turned to mud; beside those who wept, blood flowed like blossoming trees.

After the great master passed into stillness, the world felt empty. Later, there were those who propagated the Dharma in response to people's needs, and the collections of scriptures differed into groups of five and seven. The great generals upholding the Vinaya were divided into eighteen distinct traditions. Based on what was seen and heard, the three collections of scriptures varied from one another. When wearing the lower robe, the hem could be straight or slanted; when donning the upper garment, the panels could be narrow or wide. Sharing a dwelling meant separate rooms marked by ropes, and both ways were without fault. Receiving food by hand or by drawing a line on the ground—both methods were free from transgression. Each had its own lineage of teachers, and matters were not mixed together. (Note: The Sarvāstivāda tradition holds the orthodox position, while the other three are considered partial. The Sarvāstivāda requires a separate room, while the Sammatīya uses a rope to mark the bed. The Sarvāstivāda receives food by hand, while the Mahāsāṅghika draws a line on the ground.)

The various schools and traditions arose differently, but in the Western regions, the great framework inherited consisted of only four main traditions. (Note: 1. Ārya Mahāsāṅghika Nikāya, translated as the Holy Great Assembly School, which split into seven branches, with each of the three collections of scriptures containing one hundred thousand verses, which could be translated into about a thousand volumes in Chinese; 2. Ārya Sthavira Nikāya, translated as the Holy Elder School, which split into three branches, with the three collections of scriptures roughly the same as before; 3. Ārya Mūlasarvāstivāda Nikāya, translated as the Holy Root Sarvāstivāda School, which split into four branches, with the three collections of scriptures roughly the same as before; 4. Ārya Sammatīya Nikāya, translated as the Holy Sammatīya School, which split into four branches, with the three collections of scriptures containing three hundred thousand verses. However, the transmissions of the various schools often differ, and based on current knowledge, they are said to number eighteen. The division into five schools is not heard of in the Western regions.)

The details of their splits, disappearances, reappearances, and the names of the various schools are not uniform, as discussed elsewhere, and will not be elaborated here. Thus, in the lands of the Five Indias and the islands of the Southern Sea, it is said that there are four Nikāyas, though the extent of their reverence varies. In Magadha, all four schools are practiced, with the Sarvāstivāda being the most prevalent. In Rājaputra and Sindh (Note: names of Western Indian kingdoms), three schools are practiced to a lesser extent, with the Sammatīya being particularly numerous. In the northern regions, the Sarvāstivāda is fully practiced, occasionally encountering the Mahāsāṅghika. In the southern regions, the Sthavira is universally followed, with the other schools rarely present. In the eastern borderlands, all four schools are practiced mixed together. (Note: Five hundred stations east of Nalanda are all considered eastern borderlands, extending to the great black mountains, which correspond to the southern border of Tibet. It is said that from the southwest of Shu, traveling for over a month reaches this ridge. South of this, near the sea, is the kingdom of Śrīkṣetra. Further southeast is the kingdom of Langkasuka, east of which is the kingdom of Dvārapati, and further east to the kingdom of Linyi. All deeply revere the Three Jewels, with many people upholding precepts. Begging for alms and ascetic practices are their national customs. What is seen in the West is truly extraordinary.)

In Sri Lanka, the Sthavira school is exclusively followed, with the Mahāsāṅghika present only in fragments. However, among the islands of the Southern Sea, there are over ten kingdoms that purely follow the Root Sarvāstivāda school, occasionally revering the Sammatīya. In recent times, they have begun to incorporate the other two schools to a lesser extent. (Note: Counting from the west, there are the islands of Barus, Malayu (present-day Srivijaya), Mahācīna, Kalinga, Tāmbralinga, Panpan, Bali, Kurun, Vijayapura, Aśan, and Makassar, along with smaller islands not fully recorded.) All these places revere the Buddha’s teachings, mostly following the Hinayana; only in Malayu is there a small presence of Mahayana.

These kingdoms span about a hundred li, several hundred li, or about a hundred stations. Although the great sea is difficult to measure in li, merchants traveling by ship can estimate it. It is truly the land of Kurun. When they first arrived in Jiaozhi and Guangzhou, people collectively called it the Kunlun country. Only these Kunlun people have curly hair and dark bodies—the other countries are no different from China—and they go barefoot and wear simple garments, as described in detail in the *Records of the Southern Sea*. Walking directly south from Huānzhou for about half a month, or taking a boat for five or six days, one reaches Bijing. Further south is Champa, which is Linyi. This kingdom mostly follows the Sammatīya school, with some Sarvāstivāda influence. Traveling southwest for a month, one reaches the kingdom of Bānnán, formerly known as Funan. It was originally a land of nudity where people mostly worshiped deities, but later Buddhism flourished. Evil kings have now been eliminated, and there are no monastic communities left, with non-Buddhist practitioners living among them. This is the southern corner of Jambudvīpa, not an island in the sea.

In the eastern lands of China, the general practice largely follows the Dharma-protection (Dharmagupta) tradition. In the Guanzhong region, the old Sanghika Vinaya was also widely used, while in the south of the Yangtze and beyond the southern ranges, the Sarvāstivāda tradition flourished first. When people speak of the Ten Recitations and the Four Part Vinaya, they are mostly taking the titles from the bindings of those texts. Looking carefully at the differences among the four schools, their monastic discipline differs markedly: heavy and light precepts are far apart, and what is permitted and what is prohibited stand in stark contrast. Those who leave home each follow the practice of their own school. It is not appropriate to take another school's lighter rule to replace one's own heavier precept, nor to use one's own permissive text to criticize the regulations of others. If one did so, the meaning of distinct schools would not be clear, and the principle of what is allowed and what is forbidden could not be distinguished. How could one person practice all four schools at once? The parable of the torn cloth and the golden staff shows only that the extinguishing of the precepts is not different — those who practice the rules must rely on their own school.(King Bimbisāra dreamed that a single cloth was torn into eighteen pieces and a single golden staff was cut into eighteen sections. Terrified, he asked the Buddha. The Buddha said: "More than a hundred years after my passing into nirvāṇa, there will be a King Aśoka whose power will spread over Jambudvīpa. At that time the monks will divide the teaching into eighteen schools, but as for the path to liberation, its intent is one and the same. This was a portent beforehand; do not be troubled, O King.")

Among the four schools, the distinction between Mahayana and Hinayana is not fixed. The regions of North India and South Seas are purely Hinayana, while the lands of China and the Central Plains hold to the Mahayana teaching; elsewhere, the two are practiced mixed together. Examining the matter, the monastic discipline is no different—both equally maintain the five categories of precepts and cultivate the Four Noble Truths. If one reveres bodhisattvas and reads Mahayana sutras, this is called Mahayana; if one does not practice these things, it is called Hinayana. What is called Mahayana is none other than two kinds: first, Madhyamaka; second, Yogacara. Madhyamaka holds that conventional existence is empty and true reality is void, its essence illusory like a dream; Yogacara holds that outer things do not exist but inner consciousness does, and all things are consciousness-only. Both alike follow the sacred teachings—who is right and who is wrong? Both accord with Nirvana—which is true and which is false? Their intent lies in cutting off delusion and affliction and in saving all beings—how could they wish to multiply disputes and add further to the bonds of delusion? To practice accordingly is to ascend together to the far shore; to reject and turn away is to sink together in the stream of birth and death. In the Western lands both are practiced together, and reason finds no conflict. Yet without the eye of wisdom, who can judge right from wrong? Simply follow whichever one you have long practiced and cultivate it—fortunately, there is no need to force yourself to cut away the other.

Now in our land, those who uphold the Vinaya are pulled this way and that by the various schools, and so the teachers who lecture and the scholars who compile records ended up producing a tangled mass of chapter commentaries and sub-commentaries. The Five Sections and Seven Categories of offenses shift from place to place and grow harder still to pin down; the boundary between what is permitted and what is an offense, though plainly stated, becomes obscured again. The result is that someone who has piled up only one basketful of earth loses heart, and someone who attends a single session of teaching withdraws discouraged. Among the upper ranks, men end up gray-bearded before they finish; among the middling and lesser, how could they ever reach the goal before their hair turns white? The Vinaya root texts are left neglected, while reading the commentaries drags on for a lifetime. Masters and disciples pass this down to one another and take it as the established standard: when discussing chapter and section, they subdivide and subdivide again; when explaining the assigning of an offense, they parse sentence after sentence. If we examine the labor involved, it truly amounts to the toil of building a mountain; but if we weigh the benefit, now and then there is the moistening of a pearl from the sea.

Moreover, whenever one composes a work, the intent is to make people understand it easily—how could one deliberately use secret language and then add explanations to mock them? It is like water overflowing a flat plain and breaking into a deep well: though one wishes to drink and be refreshed, there is no way to save one's life. Measured against the Vinaya texts, this is not so; in deciding weighty or light matters, only a few lines are used, and explaining the method of confession takes no more than half a day—this is the great common practice of Dharma followers in the Western Regions and the Southern Seas. As for the land of Shenzhou, where rituals and teachings flourish, people revere and serve their rulers and parents, respect and yield to elders, are honest, simple, humble, and compliant, take only after what is right, are filial sons and loyal ministers, and are careful in conduct and frugal in expenditure.

The emperor, in his grace, nurtures the teeming multitudes, and from early morning his anxious thoughts turn to the people as though he were rescuing them from a moat. The assembled ministers all fold their hands in respect, and through the night, treading as if on thin ice, they present their earnest resolve. At times the Three Vehicles are greatly opened and a hundred lecture seats broadly established; cotton banners are spread across the eight marshes, and all who have understanding turn their minds to it; monasteries are distributed throughout the nine regions, and even those who have lost the way all direct their merit toward it. How magnificent—farmers sing in the fields; how orderly—merchants sing atop carts and boats. Thus the land of Chicken-Venerators and Elephant-Honorers bows its head at the red courtyard steps, and the region of Golden Neighbors and Jade Ridges offers its devotion at the jade stairs. To act without acting, to attend to non-attending—nothing could surpass this.(“Chicken-Venerators” is the Western name for the country of Goryeo, called Kukkuṭa-śrīrāja. Kukkuṭa means chicken, and śrīrāja means noble. Western tradition says: that country reveres the chicken as divine and takes it as a mark of honor, so they wear feathers as adornment. “Elephant-Honorers” means that among the kings of the Western lands the elephant is considered supreme, and throughout the Five Indias this is universally so.) As for the monastic companions who preach and the rules of conduct, the assembled disciples are solemn and respectfully receive the highest intent. Some dwell secluded in deep valleys, casting off the cage of worldly bonds like a worn sandal; they rinse themselves in mountain streams and let their thoughts roam far, sit among dense groves and settle their aspirations there. Walking the path at the six periods, they can repay the grace of pure faith; entering concentration for the two periods, they are fit to receive the reverence of humans and gods. This indeed accords well with the sutras and Vinaya—how could there be any fault in it! However, because transmission has become erroneous and the rules have grown inconsistent, long habit has made this seem normal, and there are points that depart from the essential principles. I have therefore carefully relied on the sacred teachings and on the essential practices currently in use, making altogether forty chapters divided into four fascicles, entitled “A Record of the Inner Dharma Sent Home from the Southern Seas.” Also, one fascicle of “Biographies of Eminent Monks of the Great Tang in the Western Regions,” together with miscellaneous sutras and treatises, are all recorded and appended on my return. May all the great virtuous ones rouse the mind that promotes the Dharma, harbor no thoughts of self and other, and, when something is worthy, measure and weigh it and act in accordance with the Buddha’s teaching; do not, merely because you think lightly of the person, thus slight the weighty Dharma. Now, the sutras and treatises transmitted through past and present have principles that are well understood, but the subtle depths of the meditation gate’s concentration are hard to entrust from afar; therefore I have first set out in rough form the practices, presenting them in accord with the marks of Vinaya, and fully listing the sections and articles, examining the masters’ lineages against the actual records. Even if my life should sink into the evening light, I hope to complete the work of a single basket of earth; even if the flame is extinguished before the morning light, may there be a continuation of a hundred lamps. Reading this, one need not labor to walk a foot’s pace—one can traverse the Five Indias upon a short stair; without moving a single inch of time, one may truly mirror the deluded tracks of a thousand years. May you kindly examine the Three Piṭakas, beat the Dharma ocean and raise its four waves, and clearly mirror the Five Chapters; sail the boat of wisdom and lift up the six elephants. Though I have personally received the masters’ intent and fully examined the profound purport, yet since this was not issued from a clever mind, I fear in the end I may be laughed at by the eye of wisdom.

Everything discussed here is based on the Mūlasarvāstivāda school, and matters belonging to other schools should not be mixed in. This is on the whole similar to the *Ten Recitations* Vinaya. The Sarvāstivāda school divides into three branches: first, Dharmagupta; second, Mahīśāsaka; third, Kāśyapīya. None of these are practiced in the five regions of India; only in the country of Udyāna, and in Kucha and Khotan, are there scattered practitioners of them. However, the *Ten Recitations* Vinaya is also not the root Sarvāstivāda.