Selected Lectures on the Sūtra of the Collection of the Father and Son (Pitāputrasamāgamanasūtra) (Sixty-Seven)

This is the same as the worldly principle that "seeing with one's own eyes is believing, while what one hears is uncertain." What one hears from others is merely the mind consciousness's understanding; it has not been verified, so deep down one still feels unsure and dares not take it seriously. Afterwards, once one has seen it with one's own eyes, one truly knows it, and will say: Ah! So that's how it is! At that point, in dealing with people and matters, one knows how to handle them. Seeing with one's own eyes corresponds to the manas's realization, while hearing corresponds to the mind consciousness's understanding—these are two entirely different levels. The mind consciousness's understanding is heard from others, whereas the manas's realization is seeing with one's own eyes; it is direct perception/valid direct cognition, truly seeing. Understanding is like hearsay, and it differs greatly from actually seeing with one's own eyes. For example, having heard about how a certain person is, one forms a view in one's mind and develops a certain impression; but when one meets the person and observes, it turns out to be like this—not entirely consistent with the impression in one's mind. The feeling and impression at the meeting are more real and credible, and only then can one adopt an appropriate attitude toward this person. After understanding and observing things as they truly are, one's views, opinions, ideas, actions, and conduct are no longer the same as when one was merely listening. Therefore, we must diligently immerse and permeate the mind, permeating it to the deepest levels, and genuinely engage in contemplative practice (vipaśyanā-caryā) on how all faculties are like illusions and the five aggregates (pañcaskandha) are without self. Contemplative practice is the sixth consciousness's thinking and analysis; after the analysis, it is handed over to the manas, and when the manas acknowledges the truth of this principle, one realizes the fruit. If the manas does not acknowledge the principle that the mind consciousness has contemplated and observed through practice, it is useless. If one wants the manas to realize this as quickly as possible, the evidence must be conclusive, reaching as much as possible the level of direct perception/valid direct cognition. Within contemplative practice there are still many procedures, many roads to travel, and many dharmas to cultivate; one must continually accumulate various provisions and provisions for the path, continually accumulate the provisions of merit, as well as precepts, patience, meditation/meditative concentration (samādhi), and wisdom, continually perfecting the conditions of these six pāramitās. All dharmas are entirely empty and still—this is called the gate of emptiness. Emptiness itself has no mark of emptiness; the dharma of emptiness itself has no mark of emptiness—it is merely a name and concept, without any mark. Emptiness has no appearance of emptiness; there is not a single mark at all, not even the mark of emptiness. This is called the gate of signlessness. If all marks are gone, what longing do we still have? What wishes and aspirations remain? All dharmas are empty—what more could you hope for? With no more aspirations, it is called the gate of wishlessness/wishless liberation gate. Such three dharmas practicing in accord with emptiness, the mind is liberated—this is called the three gates of liberation. Emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness: this "wish" means longing, wishing for results, the vows one makes and issues—because there is nothing at all; whatever one grasps is empty, and even becoming a Buddha is an utter emptiness. The Diamond Sutra has said that the fruit of buddhahood cannot be attained. If even the fruit of buddhahood cannot be attained, what else would you want to obtain? No matter what we think we have obtained, after careful analysis and verification, we know that nothing has been obtained—there is fundamentally no one who obtains, let alone any dharma that is obtained. Someone will ask: if nothing can be attained, then what are we cultivating for? Cultivation is first knowing the principle that all dharmas cannot be attained, then realizing that all dharmas are indeed unattainable, and finally, with the mind utterly empty, one attains great liberation, no longer bound by the notion of attainment, and is liberated from all the suffering of birth and death. Even if there is truly nothing to be attained, we must still attain this dharma of non-attainment; otherwise, the cycle of birth and death will not cease. All dharmas are illusory and unattainable. Our experiencing of karmic retribution is illusory, yet none of us wishes to undergo painful retribution; committing evil deeds is illusory, yet we should not commit evil karmic actions; killing is illusory, yet we should not kill; hell is illusory, yet none of us is willing to go there; becoming a Buddha is illusory, yet we all wish to become Buddhas. Cultivation is just like this: illusory dharmas have the function of illusory dharmas, and the real has the function of the real. Since they cannot all be eliminated, we must make the illusory dharmas better and purer. Our seven-consciousness mind is illusory, yet it has great function, so we must surely make it function well; we cannot abandon and discard the illusory altogether—that way one cannot become a Buddha. This dialectic may seem contradictory, but after realizing the fruit, one will know it is not contradictory at all.