There are no Jiazi in the mountains, and it is so cold that I don’t know the year.
The winding paths in the ancient Quanling Temple lead to secluded areas. It was filled with mist that day and the mountain road was difficult to navigate. As a result, the incense in the temple was cold and the mountain gate was lonely.
"There is no need to discuss the old spirits on the stone of three lives, admiring the moon and singing in the wind. I am ashamed to be a lover to visit, although the opposite sex will last forever in this life..."
Dressed in a blue monk's robe, a pair of 100-tonne cloth shoes, and a rosary that was turning silently in my hand, I stood outside the temple gate, looking at the mountain road obscured by the mist. I felt something in my heart and started chanting.
There was fog in the mountains and heavy frost and dew. The young apprentice beside him exhaled a puff of white air from his mouth, rubbed his hands, raised his head and asked:
"Master, do you think the donor will come back?"
I reached out my hand, touched his head, and said with a smile:
"The donor said yes."
"Then have you waited?" the young apprentice asked.
I felt sad and unsure.
Here, I have indeed seen many sentient beings, including young people in their thirties who are still depressed, teenagers aged seventeen or eighteen who come to the temple in groups to petition. Of course, I have also seen many men and women trapped in love, as well as Witness some life and death...
Hundreds of times? Thousands of times? Or should I say, tens of thousands of times?
Because there were so many times, I can no longer remember the specific number, but one of them impressed me deeply.
"Master, is there anything special about the donor you are waiting for?"
The disciple knows me and asks questions freely.
I stared at his little face kindly and said, "If there's anything special about him, maybe it's that he never worships Bodhisattvas."
The apprentice scratched his head: "What's so strange about that?"
"But he also made a wish." I revealed the answer.
"Then...he doesn't believe in Bodhisattvas, so to whom did he make his vows?" The young apprentice was confused.
I tapped his heart teasingly with my finger. The apprentice felt itchy all over, laughed and ran away.
"Master, it's time for morning class!"
He ran into the temple gate and reminded me loudly.
"Dong-dong-dong-"
At this time, the morning bell rang in the mountains, and the birds in the forest flew away in fright, bringing out a long tail of mist.
I took one last look at the long and unchanging mountain road, then turned around, put the hand that was turning the rosary behind my back, and carried it into the temple.
…
…
In the temple, there are two places for monks to study Buddhism. One is the Dharma Hall, where sutras are preached and lectures are given; the other is the Zen Hall, where monks can meditate and sit in meditation.
In the middle of the Dharma hall, there is Vairocana Buddha sitting on the Sumeru throne. This Dharma statue is nearly four meters high. The wooden body is covered with gold paint. Although it is old, it still retains its splendor and grandeur. On the side, Manjusri, Pu The wooden statues of the two bodhisattvas are separated on the left and right. They are more than 2 meters high. They are solemn and exquisitely carved. On both sides of the main hall are the seated statues of eighteen Arhats. The wooden bodies are gilded, and the craftsmanship is exquisite and complete.
The sound of drum chanting by the monks gathered in the temple for morning chanting rang out, and a burst of ethereal sound was like the sound of nature, which made people feel at peace. However, they could only hear the sound and not see the person. In this huge lecture hall, the only ones were me and Xiao Xiao. The two apprentices sat opposite each other.
Not long after, I heard an unusual sound of rustling clothes. The disciple’s meditation skills were very poor. I opened my eyes in front of the Buddha and saw his childlike appearance pretending to close his eyes.
I smiled lightly, and when he saw my expression with his closed eyes, he also opened his eyes, laughing and curiously asking:
"Master, you are so wise, why do you still meditate like me?"
I pointed to the fallen leaves outside the door and asked:
"The leaves are falling to the ground outside, what are you going to do?"
The young apprentice answered very quickly: "Sweep it clean!"
"But the leaves sprout new buds every year, and fall again when the season comes."
"Yes, so I have to clean it every year, which is really annoying..."
I clasped my hands together and said, "So, Master and you are no different. We are just sweeping the floor."
The young apprentice seemed to understand. He scratched his head and begged:
"Master, you should tell stories. I still like to listen to stories."
I asked him: "Where did I talk last time?"
He replied: "You said you wanted to tell me a story about a vixen!"
I was a little dumbfounded. I thought about it for a while, then I started thinking about it and said slowly:
"Once upon a time, there was an eminent monk named Zen Master Baizhang. Whenever he opened a forum to teach sermons, there would be an old man standing in the corner of the temple to listen to the sermons devoutly. This situation accumulated over time and lasted for several years.
One day, Zen Master Baizhang got excited and wondered why this old man came every time. So after finishing his lecture that day, he left the old man alone and asked him to come forward and ask him why.
The old man folded his hands and said sincerely, Master, in fact, I am not a human being. I am a wild fox in the mountains. Whenever I come here, I want to seek liberation from Buddhism.
Zen Master Baizhang asked, "What kind of liberation do you want?"
The old man said, five hundred years ago, I was also a master of enlightenment and the abbot of this temple. Because I made a mistake, I had the body of a fox for five hundred years, so I asked the master to free me.
It turns out that five hundred years ago, Fox, who was still a mage at the time, met a believer and asked him to clarify his doubts. He asked him, "Do great practitioners still fall into the cause and effect?"
In other words, are people like you still bound by cause and effect? "
At this point in the story, I paused for a moment, and the young apprentice impatiently asked:
"How did the old fox answer?"
I turned the rosary in my hand and said in a deep voice:
"The old fox replied, there is no karma. And with this sentence, he suffered karma. From then on, the fox body reincarnated for five hundred years, suffering unspeakably."
The young apprentice asked, "Master, what is the correct answer?"
"The answer, just talking about it, is indescribable..."
I closed my eyes and continued to meditate.
The little apprentice was anxious, stood up and shook my body, clamoring for answers in my ears——
"Master, master, did that fox finally change back?"
"Master, Master, what do you mean by cause and effect?"
"Master, Master, I'm cold and hungry, look at me..."
"Master, Master, I'm in so much pain! Please help me..."
"Master, master..."
The apprentice's childish voice came from all directions, sometimes near and sometimes far away, or it was charming and naive that made people fall in love, or it was shrill and shrill, or it was the listener's sad whimpering. In these repeated questionings, there seemed to be something. There are countless questions and infinite emotions.
But in the face of these, I was already calm and recited:
"If you want to know the cause of the past life, who is the recipient in this life, and if you want to know the result in the next life, who is the doer in this life, I am the same as you."
"..."
In an instant, all the annoying sounds receded like a tide, my body stopped shaking, and I only heard a gust of wind blowing in my ears, mixed with a distant echo:
"Master, Master, I left something behind the mountain. Do me a favor and put it away for me..."
I finally opened my eyes, the palace was silent, and there was no one in front of me...
"well--"
I let out a long sigh, slowly stood up from the futon, left the Dharma hall, and walked slowly towards the back mountain.
The pine forest along the road is quiet and quiet. At first, the fog in the mountains rises from the pine forest, hanging on the pine needles and wiping on the green rocks.
And as I walked deeper and deeper under the back cliff, layers of dense fog filled the sky, making it seem like the mountains and rivers all over the world were weighing me down, and I couldn't tell the difference between the sky and the sky. The boundaries of the land cannot be clearly seen, such as roads, vegetation and living beings.
I walked alone through the fog. I couldn't see the mountains in the distance, and I couldn't see the road when I lowered my head, but these didn't hinder my direction.
I have been in this mountain for a long time, and I have walked this road countless times.
From time to time, clouds of slightly chilly mist hit my face and passed by me, looking sticky and cold. At this moment, a gust of mountain wind blew by, and I stopped in my tracks.
The ridge lines of the forest and the mountain were revealed little by little. I looked up and saw a small pavilion outside the mountain vaguely visible on the mountainside. I lowered my head and saw in my field of vision a body exposed among the big rocks in the mountain...
Unknown corpses.
"Amitabha."
I chanted in my mouth and walked forward.
The corpse was facing the ground. In the gaps between the surrounding stone walls, there were still dark red blood stains that had not been washed away by the mountain rain. The shriveled body and the clothes on it were almost weathered. There was a huge gap on the side of the chest, and part of it was The ribs were exposed like the forked branches of a dead tree. It can be seen that this person should have jumped down from the mountain. Some of the ribs were broken by the collision and then came out...
Remembering my apprentice's instructions, I shifted my gaze to the right hand of the corpse.
The withered and rotten palm is still tightly held, as if grasping the last life-saving straw before death.
However, as soon as my eyes came to the body, the withered palm of this body that had been dead for many years seemed to have a mind, slowly relaxing little by little, like a lotus blooming.
I saw clearly what was in my hand, and I couldn't help but feel thoughtful. I stood where I was and walked carefully...
That's a pocket watch.
Under the mirror covered with spider web cracks, you can see the second hand moving in the opposite direction.
…
…
I brought the corpse from the mountain back to the temple's Incarnation Kiln, and performed a chapi cremation ceremony for it that is unique to monks.
After arranging everything, I changed into my cassock and saw the body lying on the firewood arch. The clothes were not covering the body and it was beyond recognition. After thinking for a moment, I took off my cassock and covered it on the surface, covering its face.
Then I raised the fire and raised the firewood, and within a moment, a raging fire broke out.
In the sky full of firelight, I held the salute with one hand, turned the rosary with the other hand, closed my eyes and recited silently:
"You should know that love is the foundation of reincarnation. Desires help develop the nature of love, so life and death can continue. Desire is born because of love, and life exists because of desire. All living beings love life because they love life, and love desire is because they love life. For fruit.
All worlds are always arising and passing away, before and after, coming and going, coming and going, thoughts continuing, cycles coming and going, and all kinds of choices and rejections are all samsara.
Before being released from reincarnation, we can discern perfect enlightenment; the nature of perfect enlightenment is the same as the current flow; if we avoid reincarnation, there will be no point. For example, moving the eyes can shake the clear water, and fixing the eyes can turn the fire, the clouds move the moon, the boat moves along the shore, and so on..."
This is not like a salvation for the dead, but more like an enlightenment for the living.
Repeating this passage in the "Perfect Enlightenment Sutra", I turned a rosary in my hand every time, until one hundred and seven times later, I slowly opened my eyes, and the fire in front of me was extinguished, leaving only a few sparks.
I walked forward, dusted off the ashes, and looked closely. I saw a pure white bead-like object among them. I picked it up and looked at it. The object was the same as the Bodhi seed in my hand...
I have lost count of how many times I have seen life and death, but monks have their own way of counting.
For example, the original number of the rosary beads on my hand is one hundred and eight, but it has been changed to the seventh round...
I stared at the moon-white Bodhi seed in my hand and couldn't help but sigh:
"What's the meaning of fighting on the horns of a snail? This body is reflected in the light of stone fire. It's pitiful..."
(End of chapter)
