Time and Mind Are Not Associated

What kind of dharma is time? Is it a substantially existent dharma similar to matter? Time is not material form (rūpa), nor is it a mental dharma; it is neither form nor mind—it is a conditioned formation dissociated from mind (citta-viprayukta-saṃskāra). Why is time dissociated from mind? Because any dharma manifested by mind must necessarily correspond to mind: the dharmas conjured up by the three transforming consciousnesses in concert correspond to the three transforming consciousnesses, arising, ceasing, changing, increasing, and decreasing according to what mind transforms. But time, this provisional dharma, is not conjured by the three transforming consciousnesses; it is a provisional dharma displayed through the conjunction of mental dharmas, material dharmas, and mental factors. Therefore it cannot be transformed according to mind; it cannot arise or cease, cannot be lengthened or shortened, cannot be gained or lost. Time is not a substantially existent dharma like matter. Material form is formed from the seeds of the four great elements and is a real dharma, whereas time is not formed from any seed; it is manifested through the relative changes of matter. Therefore it is not substantially existent—it is a provisional dharma, like a tortoise's hair or a rabbit's horns: invisible, untouchable, ungraspable.

What, then, is the function of time? Time has no substantive function; a provisional dharma cannot be put to use. Because time is a provisional dharma with no utility, it also cannot be given to one another or seized from one another. Someone might say: "You took up my time; you wasted my time." In fact, there is no such thing at all—no one can occupy or waste time. For example, suppose I should be eating right now, but you come over, and I have no choice but to talk with you and resolve your matter, and so I never get to eat. Does this involve time? Whether eating, talking, or resolving matters, there is no dharma called "time" in any of them. From beginning to end it is only the operation of people, affairs, and things—the three running together in conjunction—and the length of this process is what displays time.

The course of operation of mental dharmas and material dharmas displays a length of process, and this is called time; the length of a process of material change is called time. For example, one month after a baby is born is called the "full month"; one month is time, but in fact it is simply one stage of the baby's growth and development—there is no such thing as "time." Whether the baby grows for one year, ten years, a hundred years, or one second, one minute, one hour, or one day, all of these refer to the baby's process of growth; there is no dharma called time. Time is passively displayed. Someone says that now time seems to have stopped, to be unmoving; in fact it is the mind that has stopped moving, that no longer discriminates—there is no such thing as time. To say time moves or does not move is conceptual proliferation (prapañca), just like discussing how a tortoise's hair or a rabbit's horns might be—it is all idle proliferation.

When we look at time, we look at clocks: the second hand, minute hand, and hour hand combined display time. Without these hands there is no time, and with these hands there is likewise no time. Most fundamentally, time is displayed according to the position of the sun moving across the sky. Without the sun there is no time, and with the sun there is likewise no time. When the sun rises above the horizon, humans define this state as the morning of a day; since the temperature is relatively low at the same time, they define the state of the morning sun arising as "morning." When the sun rises to the sky overhead, humans define it as the midday of a day. When the sun descends below the horizon, humans define this state as the evening of a day. Thus one circuit of the sun's movement is defined by humans as one day. Then, by tallying the cycles of the sun's movement, they define ten days, half a month, one month through twelve months, one year, two years, and so on. All durations of time are displayed only by relying on material form; there is no real dharma called time.

If someone asks me to handle some matters, I say I have no time. In fact, no one possesses time; it is only that each person has their own affairs to attend to and cannot do other things, and this is provisionally named "having no time." Doing anything is related to mental dharmas and material dharmas. Mental dharmas are dharmas of arising, ceasing, and change formed from seeds of consciousness, and they are also not substantially existent, though they are somewhat more real than time. Material dharmas are all dharmas formed from the seeds of the four great elements, likewise not substantially existent, only a bit more real than time. Mental dharmas and material dharmas are both illusory dharmas, and the time displayed by their conjunction is an even more illusory dharma.

If someone wishes to live longer, it is not that time is stretched out, but that the course of operation of their five aggregates of form is lengthened. Some people live a short time—not because time is shortened, but because the course of operation of their aggregate-body is short. There is no such mark or dharma as time. Some people like to make schedules; in fact these are not "time tables," not arrangements of time, but flow charts for handling people, affairs, and things—arrangements of the processes of people, affairs, and things. When there is no mark of time in one's life, how many bonds can the mind be liberated from? Previously, because of the notion of time, how many constraints did one impose on oneself? How many attachments did one add?

For instance, take a dream—a great dream, a long dream. In the dream one lives a whole lifetime, living for several kalpas, with all its sweetness and bitterness, joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, upheaval and displacement. Upon waking, one discovers it was merely a dream: nothing happened, no one appeared, nothing was gained or lost, and oneself is safe and sound. In the dream there were no people, affairs, or things, and no time—everything was illusory; upon waking, one is liberated from the dream. Likewise, all sentient beings are displaced and suffering within the great dream of birth and death. This great dream of birth and death is the same as the dream at night: there are no real people, affairs, or things, no time and no space—there is nothing at all; it is illusory. Upon waking, one discovers that one has, after all, nothing gained and nothing lost, no attachments and no obstructions, utterly without incident—and at that moment there is great liberation and the ultimate attainment of buddhahood. When one wakes from the great dream of birth and death, one finds that sentient beings' attainment of buddhahood occurs in a single instant; there is no time span of three great asaṃkhyeya kalpas.