夫障重眾生。道業難成。最可哀矣。古崑本發真實心。棄捨雜業。專持佛名。欲求現世脫苦。誰知於持名中。又起種種我見。好揚己解。向來不習文字。而今偏喜亂作。豈非顛倒。況古人妙典。堆積如山。今更作之。真是棄摩尼求瓦礫。自喪實德。貽笑諸賢。總因生死不切。故被此魔擾亂。至同治癸酉春。因撰述而得重病。始知障道非淺。恨意馬難止。遂立誓戒之。後因舊願未了。觸事昏迷。猶有破犯。若不懺悔。必成惡障。是故於乙亥年佛降生日。敬然臂香九炷。發露懺悔。重立誓云。無文好作甚堪耻。自恨貪心難制止。立誓今生再不為。再為即是逆佛子。遂將自警錄。及一生醜拙。會集一本。以便自覽。而常警䇿。名淨土隨學者。乃隨信力勉強之所學也。(信者信佛恩加被。乃能入此法門。所以頓忘鄙陋。種種出醜)惜數年中。為此一事。日夜不安。勞心費力。苦不可說。是故於編稿畢。敬然臂香四十八炷。供養阿彌陀佛。發願云。願我承此隨學善根。早得見佛聞法。早能說法利生。光緒元年。歲次乙亥季夏日。後學古崑書於法源庵之報恩關。時年四十有八。
For beings with heavy karmic obstructions, it is profoundly difficult to accomplish the path of practice. This is truly lamentable. I, Gu Kun, originally developed a genuine mind, abandoned miscellaneous worldly endeavors, and single-mindedly recited the Buddha's name, seeking liberation from suffering in this very life. Who would have known that within this recitation practice, various self-centered views arose again? I became fond of promoting my own shallow understanding. Having never studied literature before, I suddenly took delight in recklessly composing writings. Was this not delusion? Moreover, the sublime teachings of the ancients are piled high like mountains. To add my own compositions now is truly like discarding a precious jewel to seek a worthless shard—losing my own true virtue and inviting the ridicule of the wise. All this stemmed from not taking birth and death seriously enough, thus being disturbed by this demon of pride.
By the spring of the Tongzhi reign's Guiyou year, I fell gravely ill due to my compulsive writing. Only then did I realize how deeply these habits obstructed the path. Regretting that my wild mind was hard to restrain, I made a solemn vow to stop. Later, because old aspirations remained unfulfilled, I would become confused when encountering matters and still occasionally broke my vow. If I did not repent, this would certainly become a severe obstacle.
Therefore, on the Buddha's Birthday in the Yihai year, I reverently burned nine sticks of incense on my arm as an offering, openly confessed my faults, and renewed my vow:
*To crave writing without true literary skill is deeply shameful;* *I hate this greedy mind, so hard to restrain.* *I vow that in this life I will never do it again;* *To do so again would be to betray the Buddha's children.*
I then compiled my self-admonitions and all my life's clumsy, embarrassing writings into a single volume for my own review, to constantly warn and spur myself on. I titled it *A Learner in the Pure Land*—for it represents what I, relying on faith and with great effort, have managed to learn.(Faith means trusting in the Buddha's compassionate aid, which alone enables entry into this Dharma gate. Therefore, I suddenly forgot my own vulgar shortcomings and exposed all sorts of ugliness.)
It is a pity that over several years, because of this one matter, I knew no peace day or night. I exhausted my mind and strength; the suffering is beyond words. Therefore, upon completing this manuscript, I reverently burned forty-eight sticks of incense on my arm as an offering to Amitabha Buddha and made this vow:
*May I, through the merit of this learning,* *Soon behold the Buddha and hear the Dharma,* *And soon be able to expound the Dharma to benefit beings.*
The first year of the Guangxu reign, the cyclical year Yihai, late summer. The later learner Gu Kun wrote this at the Repaying Kindness Retreat of Fayuan Hermitage, at the age of forty-eight.