僧堂記
Monastic Hall Record
夫靈山之笑溫，少林之坐寒。東西繩繩三十三傳。老盧受衣缽而，厥事顯著，開闔翁張，波瀾光燄，矢口而說，肆心而應，道傳器受，源深流長。青原南嶽，代以得人，或默有所宗，幽潛遠遯，掃跡世外，研究生死，松食荷衣，巢棲草坐，晦而不耀，持養老成。有慕其風，師而親之，鋤值春炊，採汲烹瀹，溪芼原粟，枯槁自甘，來遠集繁，乃建僧而統受焉！齊之萃師友同事，刳情封智，擯學黜思，妙盡心空，宗通眼活，發越于設施，果其能而備也。建炎之末人病亂離，湘漢江淮兵火燔掠，尊宿叢林沒蕪八九，毳衣瓶錫投棲于東南。四明禪席素號小廬山，郡東六十里天童道場，山紆盤而氣幽，松偃蹇而皮皴。蒼壁附蘿，煙晞而翠膩；孤虹枕澗，埃濯而清揚。予住山之四年，十方來學雲趨水赴，屋不能容，比丘行深遽來白事曰：「柏庭有子露坐簷宿，殆無尋尺與受單缽，欲募淨信增大其堂得乎？」予頷之。已而匠搜于林，斧鳴于谷。一年餘，礎布楹列，梁橫捔攢，棼橑翼張，薨瓦鱗覆。前後十四間、二十架、三過廊、兩天井，下無墻堵，縱二百尺，廣十六丈。窗牖、床榻深明嚴潔，萬指食息超遙容與。謀始于紹興壬子之冬，工畢甲寅之春，總費緡錢萬五千有奇。冬溫夏涼，晝香夜燈，開缽而飯，洗足而坐，耕牧其間，警導以寂。秋涵古井，春入化機，淵兮默成，粲兮用光。水盈科而流，石隨呼而響，理契平等，智應自然。動靜威儀，針砭相益，檢責滲漏，磨瑩瘢痕，淬礪光芒，錯礱圭角，高標遠到，追武古人，丐心施力，等焉不負。自器劣學弊，希易欲速，以機械為蹊，放蕩為徑。耕于空言，餒無所穫；戰于強辯，勝無所歸。見聞流習，知解汩心。佛祖之所訶，魔外之得便，其疵癘萌櫱治不可緩也。登崑崙之丘，決河源之水，濯肝膽之污，盪心目之翳。生滅跡亡而妙存，有無轍泯而過量。大夜之夢破，永劫之疑拔；出家之志償，行腳之事辦，相從儔侶殆庶幾焉！
The gentle smile of Vulture Peak, the cold meditation of Shaolin. From East to West, the lineage passed through thirty-three generations. When Elder Lu received the robe and bowl, his deeds shone brightly, opening and closing like a fan, with waves of light and flame. He spoke directly from the heart, responding freely, transmitting the Way through the vessel, its source deep and its flow long.
From Qingyuan to Nanyue, each generation found worthy successors. Some remained silent, holding to their lineage, dwelling in seclusion far from the world, sweeping away worldly traces, delving into life and death. They wore pine bark and lotus leaves, nested in trees and sat on grass, hidden and unadorned, nurturing maturity. Those who admired their way drew near as disciples, tilling in spring, cooking, gathering, drawing water, boiling tea, content with wild herbs and simple grains, embracing hardship willingly. As followers gathered from afar, monasteries were built to receive them all.
Gathering teachers and companions, they cut off worldly feelings and sealed intellectual cleverness, discarding learning and dismissing thought. They fully realized the emptiness of mind, awakening the eye of insight, manifesting it through skillful means, fulfilling their potential completely.
At the end of the Jianyan era, people suffered from chaos and displacement. War and fire swept through Xiang, Han, Jiang, and Huai, destroying eight or nine out of ten monasteries and retreats. Monks in their robes, with bowls and staffs, sought refuge in the southeast.
Siming’s meditation hall was long known as “Little Mount Lu.” Sixty li east of the prefecture lay the Tiantong monastery, its mountains winding and atmosphere serene, pines ancient and bark gnarled. Green cliffs draped with vines, mist clearing to reveal lush emerald; a lone rainbow arching over the stream, washed clean and shining clear.
In my fourth year residing there, students came like clouds gathering, like water flowing, until the halls could no longer hold them. A monk named Xing Shen came to report: “Under the cypress courtyard, disciples are sleeping exposed on the eaves, with hardly a foot of space for their bowls and robes. May we seek support from sincere donors to expand the hall?” I nodded in agreement.
Soon, craftsmen searched the forests, axes rang in the valleys. Over a year later, foundations were laid, pillars raised, beams crossed and joined, rafters spreading like wings, tiles layered like scales. Fourteen sections front and back, twenty frames, three covered walkways, two courtyards—no enclosing walls, extending two hundred feet long, sixteen zhang wide. Windows and beds were deep, bright, and solemnly clean, providing space for thousands to eat, rest, move freely, and dwell at ease.
Planning began in the winter of the Renzi year of Shaoxing, and work was completed in the spring of the Jiayin year. The total cost exceeded fifteen thousand strings of cash. Warm in winter, cool in summer, incense by day, lamps by night—here they opened their bowls to eat, washed their feet to sit, cultivated within, guided in stillness.
Autumn reflects the ancient well; spring enters the transforming pivot. Profoundly silent, yet brilliantly radiant. Water fills the channel and flows; stone answers the call and echoes. Principle meets equality; wisdom responds naturally.
In movement and stillness, in dignified conduct, they refine one another like acupuncture, examining flaws, polishing blemishes, tempering brilliance, smoothing edges. With high aspiration and far-reaching aim, they follow in the footsteps of the ancients. Those who give from the heart and contribute their strength do so equally, without regret.
Yet when the vessel is flawed and learning corrupted, people seek shortcuts, desire speed, taking cunning as the path, indulgence as the way. They plow in empty words and reap no harvest; battle with clever arguments and gain no return. What they see and hear becomes habit; intellectual understanding muddies the mind. This is what the Buddhas and patriarchs warned against, what gives advantage to demons and outsiders. Such faults and sprouts of illness must be treated without delay.
Ascend the Kunlun peaks, open the source of the river, wash away the filth of liver and gall, clear the obscurity from eyes and mind. When the traces of birth and death vanish, the marvelous remains; when the tracks of being and non-being disappear, one surpasses measure. The dream of the long night is broken; the doubts of countless ages are uprooted. The vow of leaving home is fulfilled; the task of pilgrimage is accomplished. Those who journey together as companions come close to this indeed.