Diagram of the Great Tree of the Eight Consciousnesses

All dharmas in the world are composed of the eight consciousnesses working together in harmony. All dharmas are like an ancient, towering tree with tremendous vitality. The roots planted deep in the soil correspond to the tathāgatagarbha—firm, vast, and indestructible; the thick, sturdy trunk corresponds to the seventh consciousness, the manas, stretching ever upward into the sky; the luxuriant branches correspond to the sixth consciousness, most of them connected with dense, countless leaves, which correspond to the five sense consciousnesses. Apart from the tathāgatagarbha roots, there is no trunk of the seventh consciousness; apart from the trunk of the seventh consciousness, there are no branches of the sixth consciousness; apart from the branches of the sixth consciousness, there are no leaves of the five sense consciousnesses. Yet there can be branches of the sixth consciousness without the leaves of the five sense consciousnesses, a trunk of the seventh consciousness without branches of the sixth consciousness, and roots of the tathāgatagarbha without a trunk of the seventh consciousness.

These words, together with a diagram of the great tree, can fully represent the five aggregates (pañcaskandha) body of sentient beings. Ordinary beings with heavy ignorance are often blinded by a single leaf: they love beautiful colors, and their eyes are filled with red, yellow, and green leaves, while all the essence of everything else goes unseen. Such beings drift drunkenly through life in the mundane world, eating, drinking, and seeking amusement, knowing only the pleasures of the five desires, without thought, without ideals, and without aspiration.

Somewhat more intelligent ordinary beings see not only the colorful leaves but can also appreciate the graceful charm of the branches. Such people immerse themselves in the exploration and pursuit of various ideologies and philosophical theories, yet they fail to see that the branches and leaves are constantly being born and withering with the seasons, constantly arising, abiding, changing, and ceasing, never eternal. Consequently, the theories they explore and research are endlessly revised and updated, never finding an ultimate destination or source.

Beings with deeper insight and a somewhat more practical bent follow the leaves and branches inward, seeking the trunk, attempting to excavate the subconscious and probe the mysteries of the mind. Some, in the end, due to a lack of merit (puṇya) and insufficient mental power, can only make out the outline of the trunk. Others, more intelligent, push aside the obscuring branches and leaves, behold the main trunk, and contemplate deeply its majestic form, discovering that all the nourishment of the branches and leaves—the six consciousnesses—is transmitted upward entirely by the trunk, the manas; without the trunk of the manas, there would be no branches and leaves of the six consciousnesses.

The wise do not stop there or rest content. Following the trunk further downward in their search, they finally find the wellspring of life—the eternal, deathless roots: the tathāgatagarbha. They finally understand that this is the source of all nourishment, and that the trunk is merely the conduit and bridge for transmitting it. Having found the wellspring of life, the wise have found a place for their hearts to rest. Leaning against the trunk, sitting upon the roots, they rest in the shade, enjoying the scenery of branches and leaves—how carefree and at ease!

Pitiable are those others who cut down the trunk to process it into houses and buildings that stand for a hundred years; who chop the branches into small segments to burn for warmth, lasting two or three years; while the leaves fall to the ground, unswept by anyone, rotting into the earth after autumn and vanishing without a trace—leaving only the roots, lying there alone.