Cūḍapanthaka's consciousness was exceedingly dull; he could not retain a single Buddhist doctrine, his power of thought was exceptionally weak, and he was incapable of reasoning, organizing, summarizing, generalizing, analyzing, or comparing. Yet, why did he attain the fourth fruition of Arhatship merely by contemplating the breath at his nostrils? Throughout history and across the world, literary scholars have exhaustively studied the Tripitaka, produced voluminous writings, and composed poems and verses brimming with eloquent phrases. Why is there no trace of realization of the fruits (of the Path) among them? The Dharma is not about speaking, nor about intellectual understanding. It is not about how beautifully moving the words are. What matters is being able to benefit from it. It is like eating an apple: putting it in your mouth, swallowing it into your stomach, and filling your belly is the greatest benefit. This is far more substantial than researching apples and writing award-winning papers about them.
Cūḍapanthaka, despite being so dull and incapable of understanding theory, found that during his contemplation of the breath, the various meritorious functions of his consciousness were essentially unusable. While practicing this contemplation, he could not resort to clever tricks or shortcuts. He could not analyze the momentary arising and ceasing of the breath and all conditioned phenomena, their nature of suffering, emptiness, impermanence, and non-self, nor could he deduce the non-self of all conditioned phenomena or the non-self of the five aggregates. This very limitation conveniently bypassed the sentimental thoughts and intellectual interpretations of consciousness, allowing the functional role of the manas (the defiled mind, the seventh consciousness) to be fully exerted. As a result, he not only eradicated the view of self but directly attained the fourth fruition of Arhatship. This shows that the ultimate realization in the Dharma is not achieved through exertion within the realm of consciousness. Not understanding theory does not matter. As long as the method and direction of practice are correct, and one can diligently cultivate, it is still possible to awaken to the Way.
On the other hand, those erudite theorists and researchers, masters of the Tripitaka and overflowing with learning, can only exert effort within the realm of consciousness. Though they may be eloquent, use flowery language, receive admiration, enjoy boundless prestige, and possess illustrious reputations, they ultimately gain nothing. For them, the place where they gain is precisely where they lose. Take Su Dongpo as an example: no matter how much he understood the Dharma or how many insights he had, his actual cultivation and realization amounted to nothing. The habits and temperament of literary scholars are serious obstacles on the Path, difficult to overcome. All worldly arts like qin (zither), qi (chess), shu (calligraphy), and hua (painting) are obstacles on the Path. Yet worldly people take pride in these, which is truly inverted. Shouldn't those students who love theory and crave intellectual acquisition reflect on this?
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