---
title: "雪峰空和尚外集 · 答妙喜"
description: "雪峰空和尚外集是宋代禅宗高僧释慧空所著的文集，由弟子释惠然编录。慧空师承大慧宗杲，属临济宗杨岐派，活动于南宋时期。该书收录其书信、法语、偈颂等，集中体现了看话禅的修行理念，强调直指人心、见性成佛。作为宋代禅宗重要文献，它不仅记录慧空与士大夫的禅机对答，更展现了南宋禅学的生活化特质，对研究临济宗思想流变具有重要价值，是了解宋代禅宗实践与传播的关键文本之一。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmgm1716f0bmnii04riue7rql"
---

### 答妙喜

> Reply to Miaoxi

某稽首上狀雲門妙喜老師几下今月十四日俱侍者入山出十月十五日所賜書焚香拜讀如侍座隅親奉誨旨驚喜交懷言不能諭敬承冬寒比日尊候動止萬福圓悟禪師遷法門殄瘁四方禪流同增悲愴况某素獲參侍此情倍萬他人但江山敻阻不時申慰疏負愧無量快乞垂察閩山海隅自玄沙雪峯數老之後寥落無人今得妙喜說法其間閩山增重凢曰禪流望風加敬某孤蹤所至滯留恨未即歸座下朝夕但有瞻仰常記在甌峯雲門時屢蒙妙喜指令謁草堂和尚是時為兵塵隔絕別後常切在念故去春自曹溪指疎山到臨汝遭時荒歉遂贏糧入山日夕啟叩雖焦芽敗種不能發生敢不勉強圖報知遇之萬一又蒙問及見祖師後消息某到時恰值曹溪水漲不曾入得南華門亦不曾見祖師只是來疎山失脚󳑚著木蛇子親遭一口去死無幾今者痛定悔不可及非素荷愛憐不敢輙露醜惡乞勿語人幸甚草堂老人耆年八十一視聽飲食如舊閑居門戶無𦚣來者應之某兵火間深入瘴卿抱病歸來志力衰微非復徃時但思故山深處閱藏教理廢圃送此餘生非晚定為是計歸時當取道過庵再拜求教而行歲且盡氣極寒尚遠參侍伏乞上為大法陪保崇重不備。

> I bow in reverence and submit this letter to the great Master Miaoxi at Yunmen. On the fourteenth of this month, I accompanied Attendant Zhi into the mountains and received the letter you sent on the fifteenth of the tenth month. I burned incense and read it with deep respect, feeling as though I were sitting by your side, personally receiving your guidance. My heart was filled with both surprise and joy—words cannot express my feelings. I have learned that the weather has turned cold, and I trust that you, Master, are in good health and spirits. The passing of Zen Master Yuanwu marks a great loss for our tradition. Practitioners of Chan all over the land share in this grief, and I, having long studied under him, feel this loss ten thousand times more deeply than others. But the mountains and rivers stand between us, and I could not offer my condolences in person—this failure weighs heavily on my heart with boundless shame. I humbly ask for your understanding. Here at the remote seaside corner of Min, since the great elders Xuan Sha and Xue Feng passed away, the Dharma has grown quiet and desolate. Now that you, Miaoxi, have come to teach here, the mountains of Min have gained new weight. All who follow the Chan path look to you with added respect. I drift from place to place, always lingering where I land, and regret only that I cannot quickly return to sit at your feet. Day and night, I gaze toward you with longing. I still remember how, during my time at Oufeng and Yunmen, you repeatedly instructed me to go pay respects to Elder Caotang. At that time, the chaos of war separated us, and I have kept you in my thoughts ever since. This past spring, I traveled from Caoxi toward Shushan and arrived at Linru, only to find famine sweeping the region. I carried my provisions into the mountains and spent my days and nights in earnest inquiry. Though I may be but a withered sprout or spoiled seed that cannot grow, how dare I not strive with all my might to repay, even in the smallest measure, the kindness of your guidance? You also asked what news I had from seeing the Patriarch. When I arrived, the Caoxi River was swollen with floodwaters—I could not even enter the gate of Nanhua Temple, nor did I get to see the Patriarch. Instead, I came to Shushan and stumbled, getting bitten by a wooden snake. It nearly cost me my life. Now that the pain has subsided, regret is beyond reach. Were it not for the kindness you have always shown me, I would never dare expose such shameful weakness. I beg you not to speak of this to others—it would be my great fortune. Elder Caotang is now eighty-one years old, yet his sight and hearing, his eating and drinking, remain as before. He lives quietly at home, and he responds to whoever comes to his gate. I, having passed through the fires of war and gone deep into malarial regions, have returned weakened by illness. My energy and will have declined—I am no longer what I once was. I think only of retreating deep into the mountains of my homeland, reading the scriptures, tending my neglected garden, and passing what remains of my days. Before long, I will surely settle on this plan. When the time comes to return, I will take the road past your hermitage, pay my respects to you, and seek your teachings before continuing on my way. The year is drawing to a close, and the weather has turned bitterly cold. I am still far from being able to attend to you in person. I humbly beg you, for the sake of the great Dharma, to take good care of your precious self. With deepest respect, I remain.