This aligns with the principle in worldly teachings that seeing is believing, while hearing is unreliable. Hearing what others say is equivalent to intellectual understanding; it lacks verification, leaving one inwardly uncertain and hesitant to assert it as truth. Only after seeing for oneself does genuine knowledge arise, prompting one to exclaim, "Ah! So that's how it is!" At this point, one knows how to handle people and situations accordingly. Seeing corresponds to the realization by the manas (the seventh consciousness), while hearing corresponds to intellectual understanding by the mano-vijñāna (the sixth consciousness). These represent two entirely different levels. Intellectual understanding is acquired secondhand from others, whereas realization by the manas is firsthand witnessing, direct perception (pratyakṣa-pramāṇa), true seeing. Understanding is like hearsay, vastly different from actual firsthand observation. For example, hearing about someone's character may create a certain impression or opinion, but upon meeting and observing them personally, one realizes the reality differs from that initial impression; the perception and impression formed during the encounter are more authentic and reliable. Only then can one adopt an appropriate attitude towards that person. After genuine understanding and observation, one's views, opinions, thoughts, and actions differ significantly from when one merely heard about it. Therefore, we must diligently engage in permeating practice (bhāvanā), permeating it deep into our minds, truly and genuinely contemplating that all sense faculties are illusory and the five aggregates (skandhas) are without self (anātman). Contemplative practice (anupaśyanā) involves the analytical thinking of the sixth consciousness (mano-vijñāna). After analysis, it is presented to the manas, which then acknowledges the truthfulness of this principle, leading to realization of the fruit (phala). If the manas does not acknowledge the principle contemplated and analyzed by the mano-vijñāna, it is useless. To expedite the realization by the manas, the evidence must be irrefutable, striving to reach the level of direct observation. The process of contemplative practice involves many intermediate steps, much ground to cover, and many dharmas to cultivate. It requires the continuous accumulation of provisions (saṃbhāra) and path provisions (mārga-saṃbhāra), the continuous cultivation of the provisions of merit (puṇya-saṃbhāra), as well as discipline (śīla), patience (kṣānti), meditative concentration (dhyāna), and wisdom (prajñā), continuously perfecting the conditions of these Six Perfections (pāramitās). All dharmas are entirely empty and quiescent; this is called the Liberation Gate of Emptiness (Śūnyatā-vimokṣa-mukha). Emptiness (śūnyatā) itself has no characteristic of emptiness; the dharma of emptiness has no characteristic of emptiness. It is merely a nominal designation, without any characteristic. Emptiness has no appearance of emptiness; it has not a single characteristic, not even a characteristic of emptiness. This is called the Liberation Gate of Signlessness (Animitta-vimokṣa-mukha). If all characteristics are gone, what aspirations, what wishes or desires do we have left? Since all dharmas are empty, what else do you wish for? With no wishes or desires left, it is called the Liberation Gate of Wishlessness (Apraṇihita-vimokṣa-mukha). When these three dharmas are practiced together with emptiness, the mind is liberated. This is called the Three Liberation Gates (Trīṇi Vimokṣa-mukhāni). Emptiness, signlessness, wishlessness – this "wish" refers to aspiration, desired fruit, or vows made. Because everything is nonexistent (anupalabdha), whatever one grasps at is empty. Even becoming a Buddha is empty. As stated in The Diamond Sutra (Vajracchedikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra), the fruit of Buddhahood is unobtainable (anupalabdha). If even the fruit of Buddhahood is unobtainable, what else do you wish to obtain? Whatever we feel we have obtained, upon careful analysis and reasoning, we know that nothing has been obtained; fundamentally, there is no obtainer, let alone any obtainable dharma. Someone might ask, if nothing can be obtained, then what are we cultivating for? The practice is first to understand the principle that all dharmas are unobtainable, then to realize that all dharmas are indeed unobtainable. Finally, with a mind utterly empty, one attains great liberation (mokṣa), no longer bound by notions of attainment, liberated from all suffering of birth and death (saṃsāra). Even though truly nothing is obtained, we must attain this very "non-attainment" dharma; otherwise, the cycle of birth and death will not cease. All dharmas are illusory and unobtainable. Our suffering of karmic retribution is false, yet none of us wishes to suffer it. Committing evil deeds is false, yet we should still refrain from committing unwholesome karmic actions. The act of killing is false, yet we should still not kill. Hell is false, yet none of us wishes to go there. Buddhahood is false, yet we all wish to attain it. Practice is like this: illusory dharmas have illusory functions, real dharmas have real functions. Since they cannot all be eradicated, we must make the illusory dharmas better and purer. Our seven consciousnesses (vijñānas) are false, yet they have significant functions. Therefore, we must certainly make them function beneficially; we cannot simply abandon the false entirely, for that would prevent Buddhahood. This dialectic may seem contradictory, but after realizing the fruit, one knows it is not contradictory.
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