Section 5: Contemplating a Corpse Commentary on the Satipaṭṭhāna Sutta (Second Edition) (Newly Revised)

Chapter 2: Contemplating the Mindfulness of the Body

Section 5: Contemplating Corpses

Original text: 复次诸比丘，比丘恰如得观。遗果于冢间之死尸。死后经一日二日乃至三日。膨胀成为青黑腐烂。彼注视此身。知此身不脱如是法(性质)。而成为如是者。

Explanation: Continuing to observe further, O bhikkhus, when a bhikkhu has cultivated to this point, it is just the right time to observe the corpses that have been wrapped in shrouds and discarded in charnel grounds. Those corpses, on the first day, second day, and up to the third day after death, begin to swell, becoming bluish-black and rotting. The bhikkhu attentively observes his own material body, knowing that sooner or later his own body will likewise swell, turn bluish-black, and rot, and that he himself will become such a corpse—without exception, unable to escape such a fate.

The next step is to contemplate corpses. When sentient beings die, the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind disintegrate, and they become dead people. In the past, India had charnel forests (śmaśāna), where ordinary people, after dying, were thrown into those forests, wrapped in a layer of shroud cloth, and discarded among the graves. Some people were very poor and would take the shroud cloth home for their own use, then throw the corpse into the forest and leave it there, letting it rot or be gnawed by wild beasts and birds. In the past, few dead people were cremated or buried in graves. India is hot, and after being thrown into the forest for one day, two days, or three days, the corpse would swell; after swelling, the skin of the body would turn bluish and black, and then it would begin to rot, with bacteria decomposing and devouring the corpse from the inside out.

Why does it swell? Because there is moisture in the body. In hot weather, the water in the body stagnates and stops flowing, and bacteria are produced. Once bacteria are produced, it is like fermentation, and the body swells. What do we rely on when we leaven dough to make food? Also bacteria. Once bacteria are produced, bubbles appear in the kneaded dough, and it swells up. When we are alive, the blood and various fluids in the body are all flowing; flowing things do not easily produce other harmful bacteria, while stagnant things easily produce bacteria—"a door hinge never gets worm-eaten, and flowing water never stagnates"—that is exactly the principle. A flowing river does not easily produce bacteria and has no rotten smell; if water does not flow, it becomes foul within a few days. That is what happens when bacteria are produced. The swelling and rotting of a corpse follows the same principle.

Some people say, "Look at how accomplished so-and-so is in cultivation—after death, his body did not swell or rot for a very long time; he achieved an incorruptible flesh body." In fact, only the Sixth Patriarch truly had an incorruptible flesh body. The Sixth Patriarch's meditative concentration was very high; before his death, the true fire of samādhi within his body had already delivered away the bacteria in his body, so bacteria could not survive in his body. Therefore, after the Sixth Patriarch passed away, there were no bacteria in his body, and the body did not rot. Other people's incorruptible flesh bodies are all a kind of false appearance and can be completely faked—while alive they had no deep meditative concentration at all, and at death they relied on fakery.

Anyone who, in the days before death, cuts off water and food so that there is no moisture in the body, will have a body that dries out after death; bacteria do not easily grow, the body does not easily rot, and it may not even change color. Or, after a person dies, someone may perform a drying and dehydration process on the corpse, and then the corpse will not rot either. But for people who often sit in meditation and who have attained meditative concentration, they have the true fire of samādhi; this true fire of samādhi can burn away the moisture in the body, burning away all the bacteria or preventing bacteria from multiplying, so after death the flesh body does not decay. The flesh does not decay, the bones do not decay, and the body does not collapse—that is the principle.

What does it mean to have the Path and to have cultivation? Attaining the fruits of realization and seeing the mind have merit: first, one benefits oneself; second, one benefits others—only this is called the Path. Other worldly conditioned dharmas are not called the Path, nor are they called having cultivation. Although some people may have incorruptible flesh bodies, if they have neither seen the mind nor attained the fruits of realization, and have not eradicated the three fetters, they still cannot avoid falling into the three evil destinies in the future. So many people worship incorruptible flesh bodies—this flesh-body bodhisattva, that flesh-body bodhisattva—but that is merely worshipping a false shell of flesh. As for whether they have wisdom, and what kind of state of wisdom they have, most people cannot judge. Even if one has cultivated meditative concentration and has the true fire of samādhi that can keep the flesh body from decaying, such a person is not necessarily one who has seen the mind and seen the nature, and is not necessarily a bodhisattva in the true sense. We should not attach to marks; we should look at the substantive content, at a person's state of wisdom and conduct. Judging whether a person has the Path merely from external appearance is called attaching to marks, and attaching to marks is inversion.

After contemplating the body and gazing upon this body, a notion will form in the mind that one's own material body will in the future likewise become a corpse like this. When others' material bodies die and are discarded, they rot; my material body also cannot escape this fate—discarded in a forest or in a grave, the corpse will also swell and rot. I cannot escape this dharma; in the end it is all this same outcome. In that case, do we still acknowledge this material body as the self? If the body is the self, and the body is destroyed, where have I gone? Have I disappeared? If I have disappeared, is there still a future life? And how did the self of this life come to appear?

If I also disappear along with the body, how could I have a next life? Over immeasurable kalpas, how many bodies have I had, all of them swelling, turning bluish-black, rotting, and disappearing? Then the notion must be transformed into: this body is not me, nor is it something I possess. Do not attach to this body anymore, do not pay a high price for it, do not cherish it so dearly, wearing the finest clothes, eating the most delicious food, living in the finest mansions, paying a steep price for it—what is the result? It will still abandon us, becoming a corpse in a grave, swelling, rotting, disappearing, gone. Therefore, do not crave and attach to this material body anymore.

Original text: 如是。或于内身观身而住。于外身观身而住。又于内外身观身而住。或于身观生法而住。于身观灭法而住。又于身观生灭法而住。

Explanation: Contemplating in this way, the mind either dwells in the contemplative practice on the internal body, or dwells in the contemplative practice on the external body, or dwells in the contemplative practice on both the internal and external bodies simultaneously, or dwells in the contemplative practice on the newly arising dharmas of the material body, or dwells in the contemplative practice on the dharmas of the material body ceasing, or dwells in the contemplative practice on both the arising and ceasing dharmas of the material body simultaneously.

When practicing the method of mindfulness of the body, after contemplating the internal body, one continues to contemplate the external body. The external body refers to form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and dharmas among the eighteen realms. One contemplates that all forms seen, like the body, will disintegrate, disappear, and cease; they are all subject to arising and ceasing, changing and impermanent, flowing and shifting moment by moment, unable to exist for long. Therefore the external body is also not the self, nor is it real, so one should not crave and attach to external objects either. Neither the internal body nor the external world is the self; do not attach to either. Only thus can the view of body be severed and the afflictions of craving and love be subdued.

Then contemplate the internal and external bodies simultaneously. When meditative concentration reaches preparatory concentration (anāgamya-samādhi), one will be full of energy, the mind extremely clear and lucid, and all dharmas can be observed simultaneously. Observing the internal body and the external body at the same time—while observing the material body, one also observes the forms seen by the eye, the sounds heard by the ear, the smells smelled by the nose, the tastes tasted by the tongue, the touches felt by the body, and the dharmas thought by the mind—all arising, ceasing, changing moment by moment, impermanent, suffering, empty. None of these is the self, nor are they possessed by the self. Thus, when concentration is deep, wisdom also becomes deep and vast.

Then one dwells contemplating on the body the dharmas that arise, and dwells contemplating on the body the dharmas that cease—observing what dharmas have arisen on the material body: dharmas that did not exist before now appear; dharmas that existed before now vanish. Observe from the object of form, observe from the object of sound, observe from the object of smell, observe from the object of taste, observe from the object of touch, observe from the object of dharma—observing all kinds of arising dharmas and all kinds of ceasing dharmas. The arising and ceasing of the internal organs, the arising and ceasing of skin, bones, and muscles, the arising and ceasing dharmas from head to toe—all must be observed. This requires extremely strong power of concentration and extremely clear wisdom. All these dharmas are subject to arising and ceasing, change, and impermanence; none is the self or belongs to the self; none is real. Then do not crave and attach to any dharma anymore. When meditative absorption (samādhi) appears, one can sever the view of body and sever the view of self.

Original text: 尚又智识所成。及忆念所成。皆会有身之思念现前。彼当无所依而住。且不执着世间任何物。诸比丘。比丘如是。于身观身而住。

Explanation: After the entire internal and external body has been contemplated, wisdom arises and mindfulness is formed; the mind is filled with notions concerning the material body, and the thoughts are full of ideas about the material body. You should dwell without any reliance, and moreover should not attach to anything in the world. O bhikkhus, a bhikkhu should dwell in the practice of contemplating the body as the body in just this way.

What is meant by "wisdom-consciousness"? Understanding principle is called wisdom; being able to know the true characteristics of dharmas is called wisdom; being neither foolish nor muddled is called wisdom; the clear lucid knowing that is neither scattered nor torpid is called wisdom. "Consciousness" refers to the consciousness-mind that is mainly the worldly discrimination of the mind consciousness and the manas; at this time, the consciousness-mind has not yet given rise to wisdom. Here, "wisdom-consciousness" means that the mind consciousness and manas have deep power of meditative concentration and can know all dharmas clearly and truly, neither foolish nor muddled, neither scattered nor torpid. When wisdom has arisen in the mind, one can observe and cognize all dharmas in accordance with principle—this is the result of concentration and wisdom.

"Mindfulness" means that after observing the internal and external bodies, every thought of the mind is about this body; the notion and image of the body have formed in the mind's thoughts. Afterwards, one eliminates this mindfulness, removes and empties the notion of the body as self, does not rely on the material body, and does not acknowledge or take up the material body. In the mind, one relies on not a single dharma and dwells on not a single dharma—neither relying on the internal body nor on the external body, and moreover not attaching to anything in the world. The mind is empty and vast, without reliance—this is called dwelling on no dharma and attaching to no dharma.

The Buddha said that a homeless bhikkhu should contemplate the body in this way, with the mind dwelling without dwelling in dharmas. All practitioners should be like this; not only homeless bhikkhus should cultivate in this way, dwelling without relying on the internal or external body. If one still attaches to other things, that is also not acceptable—attaching to wealth, sex, fame, food, and sleep, attaching to gold, silver, and jewels, attaching to reputation, power, and status—attaching to these is also improper, and one cannot attain liberation from the cycle of birth and death. All these things must also be extinguished and emptied, not acknowledged or taken up; then one will dwell in deep meditative concentration. After the mind's thoughts are emptied, there is always a knowing within, a clear and lucid knowing present; afterwards, one can use that knowing to investigate Chan. Having extinguished and completely excluded and emptied the material body and all things, investigating Chan afterwards becomes easy and swift.

In the end, one's cultivation should reach dwelling without reliance. First there is a body in the mind's thoughts; then empty out the body and dwell without reliance; then extinguish the attachment to any other thing in the world. Thus the mind's thoughts are emptied; from inside to outside there is no self, and the view of self is severed. The content of these contemplative practices deepens step by step, approaching emptiness step by step. The deeper the concentration, the emptier the mind's thoughts, and the wisdom becomes deeper and deeper, until finally one directly realizes the first fruit through the fourth fruit.

Original text: 复次。诸比丘。比丘恰如得观。遗弃于冢间之死尸。被鸟所啄。或鹰所啄。或鹫所啄。或犬所食。或豹所食。乃至各种生类之所食。彼注视此身。知此身不脱如是法。而成为如是者。

Explanation: Observing one step further, O bhikkhus, the bhikkhu at this time contemplates just as if observing corpses discarded in charnel grounds, pecked by birds, pecked by hawks, pecked by vultures, eaten by dogs, torn by leopards, and even gnawed by all kinds of animals. The bhikkhu gazes upon his own body, knowing that the final destiny of this body is also like this—to be gnawed by animals.

The previous contemplative practice was of the corpse thrown into the charnel ground, where the corpse merely turned bluish, swollen, and rotten. Now the contemplative practice begins on the corpse being pecked by birds. When carnivorous large birds are very hungry, they circle in the forest looking for things to eat. Upon discovering a corpse, they will peck at the flesh and blood on it. The corpse may be pecked by eagles or by vultures; these large birds are all meat-eaters, waiting specifically in the charnel forest to eat corpses. The corpse may be devoured by wild dogs or gnawed by tigers, leopards, and wolves, and even eaten by all kinds of wild animals—even ants come to gnaw the bones. The wild ghosts in the graveyard also eat corpses; they only consume the aroma, smelling the scent—they cannot eat the physical flesh. Smelling the scent of the flesh on the corpse counts as being full for them, whereas animals eat the physical flesh. The corpse is thus divided and eaten up by these animals; when the eating is finished, only the hardest bones remain, which cannot be gnawed, so they are left behind and abandoned.

The bhikkhu observes the material body after death becoming a corpse, divided and eaten by various animals, and then observes his own material body, knowing that his own body also cannot escape such a dharma—that the future outcome will also be like this: after death, being thrown into the charnel forest and devoured by wild beasts. As long as there is a body, this is the outcome. Nowadays, although corpses can be cremated, the result is still that the corpse turns to ashes. Then is this body still the self? If it is the self, where have I gone? Why have I disappeared without a trace? Can that which can disappear and perish be the self? Of course not—it is merely a false shell used by me for a period of time; there is no need to attach to it. Treat it like a piece of clothing: when it cannot be worn, throw it away. Since beginningless kalpas, sentient beings have had countless so-called selves devoured in this way. Therefore the body cannot possibly be the true self. What can perish is definitely not the self. One must have a firm conviction: I am imperishable; whatever can perish is not me.

When observing the material body, one discovers that it arises and ceases. What arises and ceases is not the self; what is impermanent is not the self; what is suffering is not the self; what is defiled is not the self. I am pure, I am without suffering, I am blissful, I am quiescent and extinct, I am permanent and unchanging—while the body changes moment by moment, and the consciousness-mind also changes moment by moment. What changes and is impermanent is not the self. This notion must be firmly established so that there is no obstacle to severing the view of self. Notions and convictions cannot be forcibly stuffed into one by others; others cannot acknowledge on one's behalf, cannot change one's consciousness-cognition. Only by reasoning oneself can one change one's cognition and notions. Whether one can change one's notions is a matter of one's own wisdom, as well as a matter of merit, and also a matter of the power of meditative concentration.

The World-Honored One left the Dharma to us and taught it to us; how we come to cognize it is our own affair—the Buddha can do nothing more. No matter how much He blesses us, He cannot truly change our own mind. At most, He can enable our mind consciousness to clearly understand and recognize, but He cannot make the manas understand, accept, and acknowledge. This requires us to cultivate step by step ourselves, changing the manas's notions step by step. After deep and subtle deliberation, when the manas acknowledges, the notions change; once the manas changes, the mental conduct changes bit by bit. When the mental conduct changes to a certain degree, one cultivates from an ordinary person to a sage, and from sage to Buddha—everything will be perfected. Therefore, at the end of cultivation, when the mind consciousness is thoroughly changed and the manas is thoroughly changed, we will be a magnificent Buddha.

Original text: 佛说。如是。或于内身观身而住。于外身观身而住。又于内外身观身而住。或于身观生法而住。于身观灭法而住。又于身观生灭法而住。

Explanation: The Buddha said: just like this, the mind either dwells in observing the internal body, or dwells in observing the external body, or dwells in observing the internal and external bodies simultaneously, or dwells in observing the newly arising dharmas of the material body, or dwells in observing the dharmas of the material body ceasing.

Observing that the corpse has been completely divided and eaten up—this is contemplating the internal body. Through observing the internal body, one knows that the internal body will disintegrate, decompose, change, and disappear; therefore it is not real. Then one observes the external body, knowing that each and every thing will likewise disintegrate, cease, and disappear. Then consider: are the internal body and external body the self and what belongs to the self? These are neither the self nor possessed by the self; they are all subject to arising and ceasing and change, filthy and impure, suffering, empty—therefore none is the self. Then one dwells contemplating the body on both the internal and external bodies simultaneously. When the power of concentration is good, both the internal and external bodies can be observed simultaneously, and one then knows that the dharmas of the five aggregates and eighteen realms are all suffering, empty, impermanent, and impure—none is the self.

Observe which material dharma has newly arisen in the material body, what has increased, coming from nonexistence into existence—this must be observed. After observing it, one knows that wherever there is arising, there is ceasing; arising and ceasing is impermanence, is unreal dharma, and therefore is not the self. Then observe what the material body originally had that is now gone, disappeared, changed, altered. All of this must be observed. After observing it, one knows the material body is subject to arising and ceasing and change, is impermanent; the impermanent is empty; the empty is not real, is illusory, and is not the self. Then simultaneously observe what dharmas have arisen in the material body and what dharmas have ceased; the arising dharmas and ceasing dharmas must be observed simultaneously—thus concentration and wisdom are both excellent.

When the power of concentration is sufficient, one is full of energy, the mind is relatively clear and wise, and one can simultaneously observe many dharmas. If the concentration is shallow and energy insufficient, and the power of wisdom is also insufficient, one lacks the capacity to observe many dharmas; even observing one or two dharmas, it is not easy to observe them clearly. If the concentration is sufficient and the power of wisdom is strong, then matters in all directions—form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and dharma, the conditions of the internal and external bodies—can all be observed simultaneously. After observing them all, one knows what dharmas have arisen and what dharmas have ceased, and the mind knows it all completely. This knowing within the mind can know everything clearly and lucidly—the equal cultivation of Samādhi and Prajñā. If one does not cultivate earnestly, then concentration is not complete and wisdom is not complete; observing even a single dharma is not clear, not understood clearly; after contemplating for a while the mind becomes scattered, and after deliberating for a while the mind becomes vexed—then there will be no clear result.

The prerequisite for complete concentration and wisdom is complete merit. If blessings are insufficient, the power of concentration cannot be cultivated. The time, environment, and other conditions for cultivating concentration are not easily complete; whenever one cultivates concentration, interfering matters appear. When cultivating wisdom, it is the same: just as one is about to contemplate and observe a dharma principle on one side, a matter arises on the other side requiring attention, and the contemplation is interrupted. After handling it, one returns to continue observing, and another matter comes to interfere. With such insufficient blessings, there cannot be sufficient time and energy to cultivate single-mindedly. If one does not diligently cultivate blessings, worldly affairs will always obstruct cultivation, making it impossible for one's Path-endeavor to progress. When this situation arises, one should quickly practice generosity to cultivate blessings. When blessings are sufficient, once you sit down, whether cultivating concentration or wisdom, no one or nothing will disturb you; there will be ample leisure time and conditions for cultivation; you can read for a long time undisturbed, and many matters will no longer require you to divide your attention and trouble your mind.

When blessings are insufficient, in cultivation this obstructs you and that obstructs you—obstructions from family, obstructions from work, obstructions from social interactions. Some people also lack economic resources and daily necessities, so they must spend a great deal of time earning money to support the family, leaving no time for cultivation—all of this is caused by insufficient merit. When merit is insufficient, one must cultivate more blessings, using all kinds of methods to accumulate one's blessings as quickly as possible. Practice generosity abundantly: give away one thing, and in return receive at least a thousandfold—depending on to whom the generosity is given. If the recipient has cultivation, then it is more than a thousandfold—ten thousandfold, a hundred thousandfold, a millionfold. Even giving generosity to a non-Buddhist who has attained the first dhyāna brings blessings with a millionfold return, all recorded in one's own tathāgatagarbha. Therefore practitioners should give outwardly as much as possible and take in as little as possible; do not let other people's wealth enter your own account—that is absolutely inappropriate.

Original text: 尚又智识所成。及忆念所成。皆会有身之思念现前。彼当无所依而住。且不执着世间任何物。诸比丘。比丘如是。于身观身而住。

Explanation: After observing in this way, in the clear and lucid mind, every thought contains a body; the mind's thoughts are entirely filled with thoughts and notions about the material body. The bhikkhus should dwell without reliance, not dwelling on the material body, not relying on it believing the material body to be reliable and real, and moreover not attaching to anything in the world. O bhikkhus, a bhikkhu dwells in contemplating the body as the body just like this.

At the end of contemplative practice, the notion that the material body is real must be extinguished; that bluish, swollen, rotting body must be excluded and emptied; no longer acknowledge that material body as the self; let the thoughts be purified and the mind empty and pure, dwelling with the mind without reliance. If the mind still attaches to any other thing in the world, that thing must also be emptied—whether wealth, houses, land, power, fame, or status—all must be relinquished and emptied from the mind's thoughts, letting the mind be completely empty, with nothing at all, dwelling without any reliance. Thus, when the mind is empty and pure, the fruit of the Small Vehicle is attained.

At this time, there is still a clear and lucid knowing within the mind; although there is knowing, there are no things. This knowing can later be used to investigate Chan with a new huatou, investigating: "Who is dragging this corpse around?" The body is the same as a corpse, not real. Since it is not real, why can it still jump about lively? Why can it still accomplish all activities? When meditative concentration has been well cultivated and the view of self severed, the questioning doubt easily arises. If the view of self has been severed, and severed very thoroughly, when the mind acknowledges not a single thing, doubt will arise: why does the body still have the functions and activities of the five aggregates? Thus the questioning doubt emerges.

If the questioning doubt does not emerge, one reason is insufficient power of concentration, and the other is obstruction by the view of self. When concentration is insufficient, the correct views are also not easily complete, and the view of self is not easily severed, or not severed thoroughly. If the mind has not emptied all things, still regarding certain dharmas among the five aggregates as real, the questioning doubt will not appear—this shows that concentration and wisdom are insufficient and further cultivation is needed. Once the questioning doubt emerges, one dwells within it; when the conditions of time are complete, the doubt is shattered, and one knows: so that is how it is. Therefore, regarding the principles of the Great and Small Vehicles, the Small Vehicle is the foundation; with the foundation well laid, the next stage of cultivation will be very swift. Contemplating the body in this way, the view of body is severed, the mind is completely empty, with no self and no body of self—all is empty and illusory.

Original text: 复次诸比丘。比丘恰如得观。遗弃冢间之死尸。由于具有血肉。而筋连结于骸骨。乃至无肉之附着血。而筋连结骸骨。乃至无血肉。唯筋连结骸骨。乃至关节解散。手骨于此处。足骨于彼处。踝骨于此处。腿骨于彼处。盘骨于此处。背骨于彼处。头盖骨在彼处。骸骨散在四五八面。彼注视此身。知此身不脱如是法。而成为如此者。

Explanation: Continuing to observe further, O bhikkhus, the bhikkhu at this time can just observe the corpses discarded in the graveyard. These corpses, because they still have flesh and blood, still have sinews connecting to the bones. Even to the point where there is no flesh, only blood attached to the corpse, with only sinews still connecting the bones. Even to the point where there is no blood or flesh, only sinews connecting the bones. Even to the point where the joints have come apart: the hand bones here, the foot bones there, the ankle bones here, the leg bones there, the pelvic bones here, the back bones there, the skull there, the bones scattered in the four, five, eight directions. The bhikkhu gazes upon his own material body, knowing that his own material body will also have this outcome, becoming such a corpse.

This passage of scripture is still contemplating corpses. While the material body is alive it is illusory; after death, becoming a corpse, it is even more illusory, even more empty, even less the self. The previous section contemplated the corpse being devoured by wild beasts; after being devoured, some bones remained, and on the remaining bones there was still blood and flesh, with sinews connecting the bones. Observing further, the flesh on the bones is gone, but there is still some blood, with sinews connecting the bones. Observing further, the blood is also gone, licked by wild beasts, gnawed until only the hardest bones remain, with only sinews connecting bone to bone.

Even to the very end, the connecting parts are gone, the joints are gone, and the bones have been gnawed into very small fragments. Finally the bones are scattered into hand bones, foot bones, ankle bones, leg bones, back bones, skull bones, and so on, scattered very fragmentarily in various places. This living, flesh-and-blood person, in the end, becomes broken bone fragments here and there, scattered in all directions, impossible to reassemble. Observing up to this point, one knows that one's own body also cannot escape this fate and will all become broken bone fragments. Then where has this body gone? Is it real? That original complete body was not the self, and this remaining pile of bone fragments is also not the self; they were all aggregated together through causes and conditions—the four great elements composed a false shell, an illusory thing.

The Buddha said that the bones remaining after the material bodies we have within a small kalpa have all disintegrated would be enough to pile up into a Mount Sumeru. Mount Sumeru stands in the four great oceans, extending up into empty space; half of Mount Sumeru is buried in the waters of the four great oceans, and half extends into empty space. Mount Sumeru is triangular in shape, becoming narrower toward the top, with half extending above the four great oceans. The Earth is above the four great oceans, at the foot of Mount Sumeru, a small sphere on the southern side of Mount Sumeru. On Mount Sumeru, above the surface of the four great oceans, at the midpoint of the mountain, is the Heaven of the Four Great Kings; the east, south, west, and north sides of Mount Sumeru are the dwelling places of the Four Great Kings, called the Heaven of the Four Great Kings, where the moon hangs suspended. At the peak of Mount Sumeru is the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven, where its lord Śakra Devānām Indra dwells, also called the Heaven of the Thirty-Three, where the sun hangs suspended.

The bones of all the material bodies a person has within a small kalpa would pile up as high as Mount Sumeru, and within a small kalpa our material bodies are simply too many—the number of lives and life-bodies is countless, impossible to enumerate. Are all these material bodies the self? None is the self; they are all false shells conjured forth by the tathāgatagarbha. In each and every life, the tathāgatagarbha outputs the four great element seeds of earth, water, fire, and wind, forming one material body after another; when the material body disintegrates, only bones remain, and in the end even the bones are gone. Can we find the bones of our many past lives? They simply cannot be found.

If the material body were the self, where would we go to find those selves? Search for the self in empty space? Certainly it cannot be found. Besides, do I have so many selves? The true self is only one, and it is permanent and unchanging; what can change and is impermanent is not the self—this notion should be extremely, extremely firm in our minds. Then we should no longer attach to the material body of one life, no longer regard the material body as the self, no longer feed it well, clothe it well, house it well, and equip it well. Spending a lifetime on eating, drinking, and amusement for the sake of this foul skin-bag, this false shell—that is truly not worth it, and in the end it heartlessly abandons us. Do we abandon it, or does it abandon us? Do we want to abandon it? Not at all. When the manas has not been well cultivated to remove craving and attachment, it attaches to the material body like this, clutching it and unable to let go, and could never voluntarily give up the material body.

Therefore, for that thing which arises and ceases, to pay every price for it, to spend all our blessings on its pleasures, is truly not worthwhile. Do not pay a steep price for the impermanent, changing material body. Cultivate blessings as much as possible, accumulate blessings abundantly, use blessings sparingly, enjoy blessings sparingly. Only when blessings have accumulated sufficiently can one become a Buddha; the Buddha is the doubly sufficient honored one in blessings and wisdom—if blessings are not complete, one cannot become a Buddha. Therefore this merit is extremely important. If one's own merit is gone, then no matter how much wealth others give you, you cannot enjoy it. Even if you can enjoy it, it is withdrawn from your own tathāgatagarbha bank, and the deposits in that bank decrease. Although the money is withdrawn from someone else's bank account, the merit is consumed from your own tathāgatagarbha bank. Every mouthful of food we eat, every act of consumption and enjoyment, is withdrawn from our own tathāgatagarbha bank—one more mouthful eaten means one less portion of blessings; a little withdrawn from the bank means a little less merit, and things go a bit less smoothly.

Original text: 佛说。如是。或于内身观身而住。于外身观身而住。又于内外身观身而住。或于身观生法而住。于身观灭法而住。又于身观生灭法而住。

The previous section was contemplating the internal body: the corpse turned into bones; at first there was still flesh and blood on the bones, then the flesh was gone and the blood was gone too, and finally even the sinews were gone, and the bones disintegrated into fragments here and there, scattered piecemeal, until finally all disappeared—where then is a self? After contemplating the internal body, contemplate the external body and the external world: the six sense objects among the eighteen realms are all subject to arising and ceasing, disintegration, suffering, emptiness, and impermanence. The material body comes from nonexistence into existence, grows to over a hundred catties, and in the end the flesh is gone, the blood is gone, the internal organs are gone, leaving only a few bone fragments, and finally even the bones are gone.

Seen this way, is the material body empty? Is it the self? Is this false shell suffering? Is it filthy and impure? When the equal cultivation of Samādhi and Prajñā appears with meditative absorption, one can observe through direct perception that the material body is not the self. After contemplating the internal body, contemplate the external body, and then firmly cognize in the mind: the eighteen realms are all suffering, empty, impermanent, and not-self; none of them is the self—from inside to outside, from top to bottom, none is the self. Then the notion of the material body in the mind is relinquished, and the mind is completely empty, without a single thing. Not a single dharma of the internal or external body is the self or belongs to the self—thus the view of self is severed. For those whose concentration and wisdom are both good and whose afflictions are light, the second fruit will soon be realized, or they may be at the second fruit right then.

After becoming a sakṛdāgāmin, the first dhyāna arises quickly. Once the first dhyāna arises, craving and love are severed; then severing the mind of anger and resentment, one becomes an anāgāmin. Reaching the third fruit is already quite remarkable; with the realization of the third fruit, plus the merit of seeing the mind and seeing the nature, one can pass the final barrier of the Chan school, and afterwards have the ability and qualification to enter the first bhūmi, becoming a bodhisattva of the first bhūmi, entering the Tathāgata's family, becoming a true child of the Tathāgata, the Tathāgata's own son. Before this, because one has not fully penetrated the Buddhadharma of the Great and Small Vehicles and has not severed the afflictions, one cannot enter the Tathāgata's family.

Original text: 尚又智识所成。及忆念所成。皆会有身之思念现前。彼当无所依而住。且不执着世间任何物。诸比丘。比丘如是。于身观身而住。

After the contemplative practice of the internal and external bodies is complete, and the arising dharmas and ceasing dharmas have also been contemplated, every thought contains the existence of a body, and the mindfulness is all of this body. Then empty out the notion of this body; the mind's thoughts do not dwell relying on the body, and moreover do not dwell attaching to anything in the world—not a single dharma dwells in the mind. There is no body, and no thing in the world; every single thing is empty and not real. The body is not real, and all things outside are also not real—all the way to the entirety of empty space, all the human affairs, principles, and things outside, all the environments and necessities we live in—none is real, none is possessed by me; all are illusory.

Thus the mind is emptied very thoroughly. After everything is emptied, investigating Chan becomes easy: since none of it is the self, all being empty, why is this five-aggregate still functioning? The questioning doubt will then emerge. The more thoroughly emptied, the stronger the questioning doubt, and the deeper and sharper the wisdom when the doubt is shattered.

Original text: 复次。诸比丘。比丘恰如得观。遗弃冢间之死尸。初如螺色之白骨。乃至经过一年。骸骨堆高。乃至骸骨粉碎败坏。彼注视此身。知此身不脱如是法。而成为如此者。诸比丘。比丘如是。于身观身而住。

Explanation: Continuing to observe further, O bhikkhus, the bhikkhu at this time can just observe the corpses abandoned in the charnel forest or in graves. That corpse is at first white bones the color of a conch shell; the bones undergo changes over the course of a year, piling up into a high heap of white bones, and in the end the bones are crushed, decayed, and disappear. The bhikkhu then gazes upon his own body, knowing that his own body will also have this outcome, becoming bone fragments scattered in all directions. O bhikkhus, a bhikkhu should dwell contemplating the body as the body just like this.

A complete body becomes a corpse, and in the end not even a single bone remains—nothing can be found. This is impermanence and illusory emptiness. In the past there was a practitioner who, out of compassion for sentient beings, did not cremate his body after death but had the corpse placed directly in the graveyard for animals to eat. After the animals had eaten, only a pile of bones remained; at his death he further instructed people to collect the bones, grind them into powder, and feed them to even smaller creatures like ants, or scatter them into the sea to feed the fish directly. This practitioner was so selfless, so compassionate toward sentient beings, that even after death he still benefited sentient beings—clearly a person who did not attach to the material body.

Thus, in the end, nothing at all remains of the corpse; even if the bone ashes exist, they will all disperse and cannot be found. In the end, when the Earth is destroyed, where are the bone ashes and bones? If one says the bones remain on Earth, merely unfound, then when the Earth disappears, where are the bones? The cycle of formation, abiding, decay, and emptiness of the Earth is one great kalpa; even if the bones could exist for one great kalpa, they could only exist in empty space—then what is empty space? How could empty space hold so many bones? Even if empty space could hold bones, when the heavy rain comes down, the bones would be washed away; when the wind calamity comes in the universe, the entire cosmic heavenly palaces are destroyed—what then are those little bones and bone ashes? They vanish without a trace even more completely.

Therefore, in the end, not a single thing can be retained on the material body. Originally the material body was composed of the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind; now the four great elements disperse and all return to the tathāgatagarbha. After the tathāgatagarbha takes them back, it transforms and produces the material body of another life, outputting earth, water, fire, and wind again, forming another material body, then taking the four great elements back again, returning to the tathāgatagarbha. Seen this way, sentient beings truly possess nothing and are nothing. Then we should no longer attach to the material body, nor attach to any single thing in the world. Some people say, "I should hold on to gold, silver, and jewels—they are much more solid than the body." But without a material body, who is there to grasp them? Of what use are gold, silver, and jewels then? Gold, silver, and jewels are relatively more solid, but how long can they last? One kalpa, two kalpas, three kalpas—can they last a great kalpa? When the Earth disintegrates, where are the gold, silver, and jewels? Diamond is the hardest substance—where is the diamond? When the three-thousandfold great thousand-worlds are all destroyed, where are your gold, silver, jewels, and diamonds? Can they be found? All have disappeared and are gone.

What was composed of the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind will in the end return to the tathāgatagarbha. Even the diamond is gone; even the heavenly palaces of the various heavens of the universe are gone. What are we still attaching to? Everything has disappeared and disintegrated; all is illusory. What are we still attaching to, what are we grasping for? Even if you could grasp it, how long could you hold it? In fact, even the holding itself is a kind of suffering. Therefore, one should cultivate the mind to be empty and pure, completely empty, like walking in empty space, with not even a self walking—the mind is then extremely pure, free, and at ease. After severing the view of self, one becomes a sage; cultivating life after life, while benefiting and bringing joy to others, benefiting self and benefiting others, and finally becoming the perfectly complete ultimate Buddha—only such cultivation can perfect the unsurpassed path of bodhi.