Cultivation and Zen Practice for Attaining Enlightenment (Part Two)
Chapter 7: How to Investigate Chan (2)
Thirteen: How to Realize the True Nature of Hearing
The practice of entering deeply through a single gate among the eighteen realms means contemplating one realm among the eighteen realms, awakening to the real nature of the dharma realm from that one realm, and attaining meditative absorption (samādhi), thereby opening great wisdom. For example, cultivating through the gate of the ear faculty: when meditative concentration is complete, one should engage in contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) upon the nature of hearing, introspectively observing what lies at the place of arising and ceasing of the ear faculty's nature of hearing, and thereby realize the true nature of hearing that neither arises nor ceases. During investigation and introspection, the mind must not fall into sounds; do not think about what the contents of the sounds are, do not fall into false dharmas—otherwise one cannot realize the root and essence of the nature of hearing. One must investigate beyond the sounds, investigating the source and place of origin of the sounds, tracing them to their very root; only then can one find the wellspring of the nature of hearing.
Fourteen: How Does Inspiration Arise?
Research has found that when facing a sudden threat to life, the feeling of fear instantly takes control of the brain, and so many mammals (including humans) freeze in place—this is "freezing." During freezing, the body's energy is concentrated and begins to receive all information present in an all-around manner (pupils dilating, eyes widening, and so on). Therefore, when describing the event afterward, the person concerned has exceptionally clear and detailed memory of that instant when the feeling of fear struck. But memories immediately following that instant may be blurry, or even completely forgotten. This raises the following questions: (1) Who controls these phenomena of the body? (2) Is freezing the same as being fixed in place or meditative concentration? (3) Why is the memory of what happened during the freeze exceptionally clear, while afterward the memory becomes vague and indistinct?
Answer: (1) The manas, by means of the tathāgatagarbha, can at any time discern all situations the physical body encounters, and can regulate and control the body at any time. When the manas-mind stirs, it sends signals through the brain's central nervous system to the nervous system of the whole body, neural reactions then appear throughout the body, and the manas's thoughts and emotions are expressed.
(2) Freezing is a momentary instant of meditative concentration, with attention highly concentrated; it is also called being fixed in place. The body does not move, the conscious thoughts do not move, yet the manas can deliberate (manasikāra) with great focus, seeking countermeasures, seeking opportunities to escape danger, and often can produce wisdom in a crisis. This is precisely the characteristic and result of concentration (samādhi): concentration gives rise to wisdom. In concentration the manas is extremely keen and quick-thinking, and often can turn peril into safety.
(3) During freezing, the manas can concentrate attention highly, the mind is not scattered, the six consciousnesses do not move about chaotically, and do not interfere with the manas's deliberation. At this time observation of sense objects is more subtle and observational power is better, so memory is better and firmer; hence scenes from the moment of freezing are deeply remembered. But once the freezing phase passes, meditative concentration disappears and the mind becomes scattered, so memory becomes poor, and subsequent events are not remembered clearly.
In the past, when Chan masters awakened to the Way, quite a few of them, while their questioning doubt was at its most intense, encountered a sudden event that triggered inspiration under stress, and thereby awakened to the Way. When a student's questioning doubt is very strong during Chan investigation, if the master suddenly gives a great shout or suddenly uses some other method, it may trigger the student's inspiration and lead to enlightenment. In the past, during breaks between sitting meditation in the Chan hall, practitioners would get down from their seats and walk or jog around the Chan hall; when the master suddenly called a halt, the sudden stopping could also bring about enlightenment. When caught off guard, inspiration easily appears. Such enlightenment is the result of genuine effort; it is always the manas awakening directly, directly experiencing—this is called personal realization, not merely awakening of the mind consciousness. At such a moment there is no time for you to think: if you are to awaken, you awaken; do not think or stir thoughts, do not ponder—awaken directly. That is the manas awakening.
Fifteen: Seeking the First Moon by Way of the Second Moon Is Investigating Chan
If someone tries to demonstrate enlightenment to me, I will give him a blow of the staff. This blow of the staff is the second moon, the echo in an empty valley; a sharp person can, by means of this, go seek the source of this second moon—the true first moon. How exhilarating that is, utterly refreshing! Why be like a blind cat bumping into a dead rat, sitting in meditation all day long, sitting until there are no more wandering thoughts, having a moment of tranquility (praśama), and then comparing that against the pure nature of the eighth consciousness, feeling that this tranquil state, with no thoughts and no wandering thoughts, resembles the eighth consciousness quite well, and then saying: "Isn't this my original mind, the eighth consciousness? Isn't this my Dharma-body Buddha, the Tathāgata?"
Who taught you to recognize the Tathāgata Buddha this way? If so, then when you have wandering thoughts and discursive thoughts, is your Tathāgata Buddha dead, not yet born? When later your power of concentration fades and thoughts arise and wandering thoughts appear, does your Tathāgata Buddha then vanish and perish? If so, why is your Tathāgata Buddha subject to arising and ceasing? How could it increase and decrease? How could it be subject to change? How could it exist one moment and not the next, requiring constant watching? In fact, this tranquil state of yours without thoughts and wandering thoughts is merely the second moon, turned around from the first moon. Do not linger on this second moon; quickly chase along its path to find the first moon. That first moon is intrinsically pure, pure and without thoughts at all times, inherently existing without your needing to sit in meditation—that alone is your true mind, the Dharma-body Buddha Tathāgata.
There are also people who mistakenly take the gap in between—after a "snap," when the prior thought has ceased and the next thought has not yet arisen—feeling that this gap is vividly solitary and bright, lucid and distinct, crystal clear, perfectly plain, and that this is their own original mind, the Buddha Lord, which is without thought or conception, intrinsically pure, unborn and undying. But if so, before the "snap" that cut off the wandering thoughts, where was the Buddha Lord? Not yet born? Then when wandering thoughts appear a moment later, where has your Buddha Lord gone? Perished? When there are no wandering thoughts, what is it that is so clear? What is it that is so plain? Clear and plain about what, exactly?
In fact, this gap of yours—prior thought ceased, next thought not yet arisen—is also only the second moon, conjured forth from the first moon. You must follow that vividly solitary and bright state to seek the original first moon behind it—this is investigating Chan. The original mind, the self-nature Tathāgata, has never been clear about or understood your present tranquil state without wandering thoughts, nor has it ever been clear about or understood any kind of worldly state of the five aggregates. He knows nothing at all—no seeing, no hearing, no awareness, no knowing; neither solitary nor vivid, neither in the middle nor at the two ends. Rather, it is the false dharma of the mind consciousness—arising, ceasing, increasing, decreasing—that now has wandering thoughts, now has none, now is clear and plain, now muddled and unclear, now solitary and vivid, now clamorous. When you truly recognize the Buddha of your own mind, no matter what you are doing—even killing and arson—the Dharma-body Buddha of your own mind still exists and still functions wondrously. He has never perished; at every instant there are corresponding functions and operations. He is not some blank, dull, foolish Buddha who does nothing at all.
He does not merely flicker before your eyes; at the same time, behind your back He quietly serves you. He does not only appear when your mind is pure and free of wandering thoughts and afflictions; He also appears when you are being reckless and shameless, when you are wreaking havoc in heaven and toppling hills and overturning mountains. He not only appears when you ascend to heaven; He also appears when you descend into hell. If you truly discover Him, you will be able to discover Him everywhere; if you cannot discover Him elsewhere, then what you discovered here is not Him. When you truly know a person, you will recognize that person wherever he goes; if you have misrecognized a person, then in any other place you will not be able to recognize the real person.
Sixteen: When Can One Investigate the Final Phrase?
The final phrase is the phrase that cuts off the entire flood of birth-and-death. What is the flood of birth-and-death? How is the flood of birth-and-death cut off? To master the final phrase, one must first ponder this question. Only after attaining the first dhyāna, after realizing the second fruit (sakṛdāgāmin), and after passing through the contemplation of illusion and the contemplation of mirages, does one begin to investigate the final phrase. Having penetrated the final phrase and realized nirvāṇa with remainder (sopadhiśeṣa-nirvāṇa), one can pass the impenetrable barrier of birth-and-death and become an anāgāmin, and only then has the ability to exit the flood of birth-and-death of the three realms.
The public cases and phrases concerning the final phrase are all like secret codes, pointing to the key to resolving birth-and-death. This requires one's own investigation; it cannot be plainly stated by others. Even if plainly stated, one would gain not the slightest benefit, and it would obstruct the gate of one's own awakening. Without the first dhyāna, without having passed the previous checkpoints, without having severed afflictions, one cannot investigate it out. Without the preceding foundation, one cannot understand the final phrase. In the Small Vehicle one must be a sakṛdāgāmin; in the Great Vehicle, only after passing the contemplation of illusion and the contemplation of mirages can one understand it somewhat, and only by investigating further afterward will there be some doorway into it.
If one does not cultivate meditative concentration, it is impossible to realize any dharma. Without the first dhyāna, the contemplation of mirages is very hard to realize, let alone the various subsequent contemplative practices. One must understand, with regard to many dharmas, to what degree one's intellectual understanding has reached, and how great the distance actually is from realization. For some dharmas, if one understands them prematurely, they become very difficult to realize later. When the causal conditions such as meditative concentration are insufficient, it is best to avoid them all—do not intellectually understand them; otherwise realization becomes impossible. It is all just understanding—how then is birth-and-death to be brought to an end? There is a great difference between understanding and understanding-awakening. All of this one must come to know oneself, and one must have the wisdom to judge and choose. The Buddha-dharma absolutely cannot be vague: an error of a hair's breadth leads to a deviation of a thousand miles, and the results differ enormously.
Seventeen: Simultaneous Pecking from Within and Without
Every practitioner, before attaining the Way, is like an unbroken egg. When this egg should be broken, and how to break it, is truly a great learning, a matter of great import. If the timing of breaking is chosen wrongly, what results after breaking is a ruined, spoiled egg, unfit even to eat, let alone capable of hatching a chick. Relying entirely on external force to break the egg usually produces only ruined eggs, good for nothing.
So cultivation mainly depends on oneself; external force need only provide a bit of warmth, while the transformation happens from within, one changing oneself. Those who do not wish to become ruined, useless eggs should not rely too much on others' lifting them up. Some people, having studied for only a short time, while the egg is still raw and hard, demand that the master quickly guide them to enlightenment. What could such an awakening yield? Awakening to anything is useless—a piece of scrap material. The raw egg, barely warmed through, impatiently breaks its shell—at best it gets stir-fried and eaten; it will never amount to anything.
When the life within the eggshell gradually matures, there are various signs, and in the end the chick will certainly peck at the shell itself. When it truly cannot peck through, at the point where its beak is about to crack and tear, a touch of external assistance easily breaks it open, and the life can successfully be born. Such a chick is strong and vigorous, with tenacious vitality. The birth of the little chick is, in the greatest part, the result of its own effort, with a small part owing to the external warmth and environment and the hen's care.
Cultivation is the same: the greatest part depends on one's own diligent effort, and a small part on the master's teaching and help. In the past, when the patriarchs guided their disciples, it was always simultaneous pecking from within and without, with the timing masterfully grasped. Why? Because the patriarchs were true patriarchs and true Chan masters, truly possessing the Way—not only the power of the Way but also the eye of the Way, perceiving the finest detail, skilled in reading capacities and imparting teachings accordingly. Students in those times were fortunate, extremely fortunate. If a student had not well cultivated the thirty-seven aids to enlightenment, the six perfections were not yet complete, and the conditions had not yet arrived, a Chan master would absolutely never make a move to guide them. The disciple's Dharma-body and wisdom-life is of utmost importance; they never showed off, and their sense of responsibility was extremely strong. If someone guides people indiscriminately, with the suspicion of merely making up numbers, you yourself should know that such a person lacks the Way, and keeping away is safest. Guard your egg well; do not let it be broken casually. Whoever wants to break it proactively—refuse them all.
Eighteen: Linji's Fourfold Categorization in the Chan School
Chan Master Linji's fourfold categorization is: 夺人不夺境、夺境不夺人、人境俱夺、人境俱不夺。"Seizing" means depriving, stripping away, dismissing, eliminating, annihilating; "person" refers to the subjective self, the consciousness that can cling to objects; "environment" refers to the sense objects that are clung to. These words encompass the work to be done in the course of investigating Chan: subduing the realms of faculties and objects, stripping away and eliminating the subjective and objective, gradually severing the view of self (satkāya-dṛṣṭi) regarding the body and mind, the five aggregates. Having the view of self is a covering, an obstruction; the wisdom-eye does not open, and one sees only person and environment, not the true mind.
Although ordinary sentient beings all have the view of self, in the course of study and practice its emphasis differs: some people emphasize the subjective capacity, clinging to consciousness; some emphasize the objective, clinging to environments; some cling to both. Because of the view of self and self-grasping, the mind is not empty and Chan investigation bears no fruit. At this point a Chan master with the eye is needed to receive the student and give instruction, forcing them toward emptiness face to face, seizing away what the student clings to—the subjective and objective—removing the obstruction of the eye and purifying their dharma-eye. This is the first three of the fourfold categorization.
For the Chan practitioner who has attained the pure dharma-eye, person and environment are both empty, and they have fallen into a place of emptiness. In order to advance to the higher path and awaken to ultimate reality, the Chan master again receives them and gives instruction, letting the student turn around from the place of emptiness and awaken, upon person and environment, to that existence. Thus, "where hills darken and flowers brighten, another village appears"—the state turns, and the great matter receives its initial resolution. But "it is hard to turn around beneath the bright moon and the hanging curtain": going from emptiness to existence is very difficult. This is the span from the Small Vehicle to the Great Vehicle, requiring the generation of the great bodhi mind and the extensive practice of the bodhisattva path. The fourth of the fourfold categorization completes the Great Vehicle's seeing of the path and opens the road upward. Therefore, without severing the view of self, one cannot become enlightened.
Nineteen: Dharma Master Shi Jiuneng's Practical Keys for Investigating Chan
Dharma Master Shi Jiuneng: The Chan school's method of investigating Chan all requires us to use the faculties, not the consciousnesses. The Chan school does not care whether you have wandering thoughts or not—it does not concern itself with so many of your idle affairs; it only requires that you cultivate to the point of the manas, so that you can use the manas to investigate the huatou and have the ability to awaken to the Way. Investigating Chan in the Chan school means investigating the huatou, and only people of middle-to-superior spiritual faculties (indriya) have the ability to investigate it; those of inferior faculties cannot raise it. Why? Look at this investigating of the huatou: for example, investigating "Who is reciting the Buddha's name?" or investigating "What is our original face before our parents were born?" Many people investigate the huatou—"Who is reciting the Buddha's name?"—searching everywhere for this "who." This is not investigating the head of the phrase; this is reciting the tail of the phrase. What is investigating the huatou? Investigating the huatou means investigating what is before the phrase. What is before the phrase? Do you want to speak or not? You think "Namo Amitābha"—that is already speaking. The head of the phrase is that state before reciting "Namo Amitābha."
So the work of investigating the huatou is like this: you want to recite Amitābha, but you deliberately do not let it be recited out—once it is recited out, that is the tail of the phrase. So you must investigate what is before this phrase. You want to recite Amitābha, but you deliberately do not let it be recited out—what is it like at that moment? Wanting to recite, yet the Amitābha in your mind must not pop out; once it pops out, that is the tail of the phrase. This is investigating the huatou. The work of investigating the huatou must be done with great density and continuity. How dense? When the investigation of the huatou becomes skillful, it is like swallowing a hot dumpling: a very hot glutinous rice ball held in the mouth—swallow it and it scalds you to death, spit it out and you cannot bear to—stuck in the throat. There is a metaphor: like a cat stalking a mouse. The cat sees the mouse and pursues closely; the mouse dashes into its hole, and the cat digs all four claws into the ground, raises its tail, and with total concentration stares at the mouth of the hole, watching the mouse, ready to seize it the moment it emerges. Investigating the huatou is the same: you must watch over the inside of your own mind. Do not let the huatou pop out, yet you must keep thinking of it.
One who investigates the huatou must apply effort in exactly this way: holding the huatou hidden in the mind yet not reciting it out. If you can do this to this degree, you are certainly a person of middle or superior faculties. If you cannot do it, then honestly go recite the Buddha's name first. As the power of recollection of the Buddha (buddhānusmṛti) gradually deepens, the mind quiets down and there are no wandering thoughts; at that point reciting the Buddha's name reaches down to the manas—this resembles the work of investigating the huatou. So investigating the huatou is in fact doing the work upon the manas. When the huatou has not yet come out, yet the mind clearly and distinctly holds this huatou—that has reached the level of the manas.
Assessment: Dharma Master Shi Jiuneng has described the situation of applying effort in investigating Chan quite accurately, and has clearly pointed out that when investigating Chan, it is precisely the manas that is single-mindedly investigating; that work is Chan investigation with the manas as the primary agent. When you cultivate to the point of being able to use the manas to deliberate upon and investigate the huatou, you will feel that investigating the huatou truly has flavor and meaning, and is truly fascinating and hard to let go of. That is why those who investigate Chan can go without sleep or rest, applying effort diligently day and night, the work becoming continuous and steadily intensifying. Investigating Chan is also like a cat lying in wait for a mouse: seeing the mouse scurrying about at the mouth of its hole, the odds of catching it are very high, success is imminent, so the cat stays alert, carefully keeping watch, neither leaving nor abandoning, waiting for the moment to seize it in one stroke.
Why is it said that at the moment when a phrase, or the four words "Amitābha," is about to emerge but has not yet emerged—that is the huatou, the manas's state of investigation? Because the manas's thought has no marks of language, writing, or sound. When the huatou is about to emerge but has not yet emerged, language, writing, and sound have not yet formed; at that moment it is the manas's thought and deliberation. At the next step, when language, writing, and sound appear and it falls into the mind consciousness, it is no longer the state of investigating the huatou but reciting the tail of the phrase—the mind consciousness's state of sentiment and intellectual understanding. So in the operation of all dharmas, the manas's thought always comes first and the mind consciousness's thought comes after; the mind consciousness's thought can also be converted back into the manas's thought—only the manas's thought is extremely difficult to observe and grasp.
In all states while awake there is the knowing and thinking of both the mind consciousness and the manas; it is merely that in various states, one or the other's knowing and thinking is stronger and more prominent. The functions of the two consciousnesses are very hard to distinguish clearly. Suppose the manas is A and the mind consciousness is B: our knowing is B's knowing, and when we try to distinguish the manas, it is B that distinguishes A. How can B know whether A knows or does not know? How can B know what mental thoughts A has, what feelings, what ideas? How can B understand and comprehend A's mental state? How can B's judgments about A be true, correct, and without error? When B does not know A's mental state, it shows that B does not yet possess the wisdom to judge A. When can the mind consciousness have wisdom? When can it directly and truly observe, in present perception, the manas's operation? Only after realization-awakening, when one has the wisdom of the varieties of paths, is this possible.
For now, let us not concern ourselves with whether the mind consciousness can truly observe the manas's mental state. We should first establish the correct view for investigating Chan and, by comparing against the work and states of effort described above, cultivate the correct Chan-investigation practice—this is what most urgently needs to be done at present. As long as you cultivate this Chan-investigation skill, even if you do not awaken in this life, in future lives you will still know how to apply effort, will again be able to cultivate the skill of investigating Chan, will not go down wrong paths, and realization-awakening will only be a matter of time.
Twenty: How to Seek Bodhi?
Bodhi is to be sought only within the mind—why labor to seek the mysterious outside? It is said that by practicing in accordance with this, the West is right before your eyes.
Explanation: Why is bodhi to be sought within the mind? Because bodhi is the mind. Which mind is it? What are its characteristics and features? Within which mind is bodhi to be sought? From which mind can bodhi be found?
The mind is within the body, or rather within one's own mind; the mind is not in empty space, not upon external appearances and external sense objects, nor on other people's bodies. So to seek this mind you need not search outwardly—no need for talk of the mysterious or the wondrous; just turn your head and look within the mind. But this mind at all times and places deals with all dharmas, including other people, including external environments, and also including empty space and the material universe. When you are dealing with these external environments, turn the light inward and introspect upon your own mind, and you will be able to illuminate and see this bodhi mind. Because bodhi is functional, operating at every moment without idle time, you must seek Him amid all these functions, while at the same time not letting external environments blind your eyes—seeing only external environments and taking them as real; if so, you cannot illuminate and see the bodhi mind.
This is called investigating Chan. Only by practicing in this way can you realize your own mind, realize the bodhi mind that radiates light throughout the great thousand worlds, realize the bodhi mind that can perfectly accomplish all dharmas, realize the self-nature Tathāgata that has always been a Buddha. Having realized the Tathāgata, rely on it to transform the defiled mind of the seven consciousnesses, making it as pure as the bodhi mind, as selfless as the bodhi mind, as pure and unconditioned as the bodhi mind, as beneficial and gladdening to all sentient beings as the bodhi mind. Such practice can perfect the Buddha-way and become a Tathāgata transparent within and without, radiating light, illuminating without limit the three thousand great thousand worlds. Merging with the self-nature Tathāgata, one will manifest countless great thousand worlds as resplendent and wondrous as the land of bliss (sukhāvatī); the land of bliss is at all times and places before one's eyes, delivering all suffering sentient beings, returning to the arena of quiescent extinction, in permanence, bliss, self, and purity.
Twenty-one: Concentrating on and Guarding the True Mind, Wandering Thoughts Do Not Arise, the Mind of "Mine" Ceases, and the Dharma of Nirvāṇa Manifests.
Assessment: If, in the course of cultivating the path, one has realized the true mind, then initially, for the sake of calming the mind, one may concentrate on and guard the true mind, taking the true mind as one's refuge. As the power of practice deepens, one will come to know that guarding the true mind is also a false dharma, also superfluous; the mental act of guarding is the mental act of the false mind—it is the arising of wandering thoughts. Why guard the true mind? It is still because one takes the true mind as self and as belonging to self that one guards it; then the mind of "mine" (mama-kāra) has not ceased, and the mind is not yet empty enough. At this time the mind is purer than before, resembling the true mind, with no other thoughts—but this is a state of meditative concentration; one might also say it resembles the thought-free state of the true mind. To say that the true mind of nirvāṇa has manifested is passable, but rather forced. Because the true mind of nirvāṇa is manifest at all times, as anyone who has realized the true mind knows.
If one says that calmly and solidly guarding the mind is acceptable, this "guarding the mind" means not letting the false mind engage in false activity, and above all not creating karma of greed, hatred, and delusion, returning to purity, or returning to the self-nature of the true mind. The expression "guarding the true mind" is debatable, because the true mind needs no guarding: for one who has realized it, guarding the true mind is superfluous and adds afflictions and grasping, preventing one from passing the final barrier; for one who has not realized it, one wants to guard but cannot find Him—how could one guard? But the very word "guard" indicates there are thoughts and subjectivity: whether guarding the true mind or guarding the false mind, so long as there is guarding, it is a wandering thought. At this time only the mind consciousness's wandering thoughts do not arise; the manas absolutely has thought. When there is no thought, the mind is empty, guarding nothing, unable to guard anything, with no mental act of guarding. When there is thought and mind, both the true mind of nirvāṇa and the false mind exist—which one is the manifested nirvāṇa mind? Since there is the mental act of guarding, the mental act does not cease, and what is guarded is "mine"; whatever is guarded, it is guarding what is "mine"—the mind of "mine" has not ceased at all.
The state of the Chan school cannot compare with that of Yogācāra: at the stage of practicing the Chan school, the mind is not yet empty enough; even one who has passed the third gate of the Chan school has not cultivated the mind-emptiness of a person at the Yogācāra stage. So long as even one mental act is not empty, the third gate of the Chan school cannot be passed, and one cannot even reach the third gate. Only with the mind empty can one realize nirvāṇa with remainder and have the ability to pass the third gate of the Chan school, the impenetrable barrier of birth-and-death. Guarding a "true mind," one is bound by the true mind; there is still the karma of birth-and-death, and nirvāṇa is impossible. Guarding is the karma of birth-and-death; guarding is making trouble; the mind is not tranquil. The fourth dhyāna is called "the purity of relinquishing thought" (upekṣā-smṛti-pariśuddhi): only relinquishing thought is purity; with thought relinquished there is no guarding, the mind is empty, without guarding and without abiding. With guarding, one could not enter the attainment of no-perception, still less the attainment of cessation (nirodha-samāpatti). Why can one not enter the attainment of cessation? Because the manas still has feeling and perception, and guarding is perception. In the attainment of no-perception there is also no guarding by the mind consciousness; the mind consciousness cannot function. Guarding resembles the concentration practice of anchoring the mind on one point: "anchoring" means placing, means counteracting—there is action, there is operation.
What we are discussing now is the final result of practice, not the process of practice. In the process of practice, one should do whatever needs to be done; one may adopt all kinds of methods and measures—all are needed for the work and unavoidable. But when it comes to the final result, there must be the quiescent cessation of mental activity. For example, only when keeping the precepts reaches the point where they need not be kept is one at ease with the precepts without transgressing them—it becomes wholly the manas's habit and tendency; the mental act is naturally so, without needing thought, supervision, or regulation, and the mental act naturally accords with the precepts.
Twenty-two: The Perfect Interpenetration of the Six Faculties
Rising at dawn to sit in stillness: drum sounds, wind sounds, the sounds of chanting, birdsong—sound after sound enters the ears, the mind utterly beyond the dusty world, without a ripple.
Thoughts of the mind arise again: the world, nation and family, sentient beings, spreading the Dharma and delivering the multitude—matter after matter surfaces; the mind departs from all marks, not even a micro-wave stirs.
Worldly people and affairs: frogs croaking and cicadas droning, ants battling and bees contending—merely worth a laugh; apart from death there is no great matter. Even the matter of death and life is not great: bubbles arising, bubbles vanishing—all empty illusion, that is all.
Transcendent matters: liberation from the multitude of sufferings, spreading the Dharma to benefit beings—take none of it seriously; it is all a matter within a dream. Fame, gain, praise and blame, approval and ridicule, vows and responsibilities—nothing but empty marks.
All sounds are like the echo of footsteps in an empty valley—grasp none of them; all forms are like mirages—cling to none of them; all matters and principles are like a turtle's hair or a rabbit's horns—hold to none of them. The world's coercion and enticement are all traps; the world's splendor and dazzling dance are all thorns; words, laughter, speech, silence, the raising of a hand, the movement of a foot—all fabrications are bitter karma. When the six faculties face their objects—sounds, sights, sensual pleasures—if you cling to a single hair, it is arsenic entering the mouth.
Eye, form, and seeing—the three are empty; ear, sound, and hearing—the three are empty; nose, scent, and smelling—the three are empty; tongue, taste, and tasting—the three are empty; body, touch, and sensation—the three are empty; mind, dharma, and thinking—the three are empty. The subjective is empty, the objective is empty; in the mind, emptiness is also empty, and the emptiness of emptiness is also empty—until not a hair can be established, not a mote of dust can be obtained; not-establishing is also not established, not-obtaining is also not obtained; neither establishing nor demolishing, neither gaining nor losing—only then is there the message of having arrived home. The home has no four walls and no inch of grass, not even a spot the size of an awl—ultimately not a hair or mote of dust, and not even "not a hair or mote of dust," and not even "not." For one who arrives here, what need we speak of the perfect interpenetration of the ear faculty alone—the eye faculty is perfectly interpenetrating, the nose faculty perfectly interpenetrating, the tongue faculty perfectly interpenetrating, the body faculty perfectly interpenetrating, and the manas faculty too is perfectly interpenetrating—all six faculties perfectly interpenetrating. Interpenetrating what? Investigate!
Twenty-three: The Buddha's Seeing and Sentient Beings' Seeing Differ
Do the Buddhas still see false dharmas? They see—seeing is seeing—yet they do not interpret them as false dharmas, nor do they use them as false dharmas. The Buddhas, with the great-person aspect of compassion, enter the mud and the water for sentient beings, their minds pure as lotuses, without falsehood. Does the tathāgatagarbha see false marks? It does not: the tathāgatagarbha does not see composite marks, does not see combined marks, does not see marks of oneness, does not see marks of change—it sees only original marks and seed marks. The Tathāgata Buddha abides within the original marks, supplying sentient beings with all dharmas, entering the mud and the water, yet stained not the slightest, receiving no perfuming or defilement!
Why do sentient beings see only the false dharmas of mountains, rivers, and the great earth? Their minds are blind and their eyes dark, obscured by ignorance. Why are their minds blind, their eyes dark, obscured by ignorance? It has been so since beginningless kalpas—there is no "why"; ignorance has no cause. Since beginningless kalpas, how many eyes have been blind? Eye, ear, nose, tongue, body, mind, and manas—seven eyes in all—and every one of them blind. When the manas is blind, the six eyes all go blind with it; there is no eye that sees. How can sentient beings see the true and not enter the false? Generate the great bodhi mind, vow to shatter all ignorance, to rescue all sentient beings from ignorance, cultivate precepts, concentration, and wisdom and the thirty-seven aids to enlightenment, extensively practice the bodhisattva's six perfections, do no evil, perform all good, contemplate the non-self through contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā), and realize self-nature (svabhāva).
