Giving Without Abiding in Marks

5.1 Giving Without Abiding in Marks

The last Part spoke of the three wheels empty by way of the great masters' treatises—analyzing, reasoning, point by point. The Diamond Sūtra does not work that way. It hardly analyzes at all—it simply takes the matter and, right before your face, lays it bare with one light touch.

And what it lays bare is just this one phrase: giving without abiding in marks.

"Abiding Nowhere, Practice Giving"

In the Diamond Sūtra, the Buddha says to Subhūti:

"The bodhisattva should practice giving without abiding in anything—without abiding in forms, without abiding in sounds, odors, flavors, tactile sensations, or dharmas. Subhūti! The bodhisattva should practice giving in this way, without abiding in marks."

"Abiding," here, is not the abiding of "dwelling at peace." It is the abiding of stopping, of sticking. "Giving without abiding in marks" means: when you give, do not let the mind stop on, stick to, any mark at all.

Not stopping on the mark "I am giving." Not stopping on the mark "he is receiving." Not stopping on the mark "this is what I gave." The hand still reaches out and gives; the mind simply does not halt and take root on these three.

You see, the "three wheels empty" that all of Part Four's treatises spoke of—loosening the three wheels of "I," "the other," "the thing"—arrives at the Diamond Sūtra and condenses into two words: not abiding. "Empty" still sounds like a truth you must think your way through; "not abiding" is an act you can do this very moment: the instant the mind is about to stick, loosen—do not stick. That is all.

(One thing in passing: the phrase "the three wheels empty" does not actually appear anywhere in the Diamond Sūtra—not one word of it. It is a summary name that later masters coined for it, for convenience. The sūtra's own words are "not abiding in marks," "abiding in nothing." Keep that in mind, lest you imagine you must first master a set of "three wheels" terminology before you can give.)

The Hand in Darkness, and the Hand in Sunlight

Does "not abiding in marks" sound a little cold, a little empty—as if you were being told to give numbly, to give without feeling?

Quite the opposite. The Diamond Sūtra offers a metaphor of great beauty:

"If a bodhisattva's mind abides in dharmas while practicing giving, it is like a person entering darkness and seeing nothing; if a bodhisattva's mind does not abide in dharmas while practicing giving, it is like a person with eyes, illuminated by the sun's light, seeing all manner of colors."

One who gives with a mind stuck to marks is like a man walking into a dark room—he sees nothing. One who gives with a mind not stuck to marks is like a man with his eyes open, standing in broad sunlight—he sees all manner of colors, each one distinct.

Please keep this metaphor in mind. It tells us that "not abiding in marks" is not closing your eyes and going numb. Just the opposite—when your mind is no longer stuffed with the pile of thoughts "I am giving, how admirable, he ought to thank me," you actually see more clearly. In that sunlight you can see what the other person truly needs; you can see how, at this moment, the gift is best given. The one abiding in marks, mind packed with a wad of "I," is the one groping in the dark.

So "not abiding in marks" is not something taken away; it is something gained—that expanse of sunlit clarity. The hand looser, the eyes brighter.

"Precisely Because Merit Has No Self-Nature, Merit Is Great"

There is another line in the Diamond Sūtra that reads like a tongue-twister at first, yet turns out, on reflection, to run very deep. The Buddha says:

"If merit were truly existent, the Tathāgata would not say that merit is gained; because merit is empty, the Tathāgata says that merit is gained."

It means: if merit were a solid, fixed thing with a self of its own, the Buddha would never say "great is the merit you gain"; precisely because merit has no such fixed self—because it is empty—the Buddha says "great is the merit you gain."

Why put it this way?

Because the moment a thing has a "fixed self," it has edges, a top, a limit—the water a cup can hold can be counted. If merit were such a thing, a thing with a self-nature, then however much of it there was, it would be a countable much; there would always be a ceiling.

But when giving does not abide in marks—when all three wheels have loosened through—this merit is no longer a thing with a fixed self. It has no edge and no top. The Diamond Sūtra compares it to space itself: the space to the east—can it be measured? It cannot. The space to the south, the west, the north, above and below and in the four corners—can that be measured? It cannot either. The merit of giving without abiding in marks is like that space: it cannot be measured.

The "great" here is not the great of "a large amount." It is the great of "beyond the division into more and less." The moment the mark is loosened, merit turns over—from countable worldly reward into immeasurable provisions for liberation. So when the Diamond Sūtra urges giving without abiding in marks, it is not teaching a cleverer method of storing up merit—it is stating a fact about reality: the moment the hand loosens, the fruit, of itself, is immeasurable.

Once You Have Given, You Need Not Keep Carrying It

If that is so, then what about after the gift? The Diamond Sūtra adds one more line:

"The merit that bodhisattvas produce should not be clung to; therefore it is said that they do not receive merit."

"Not receiving merit" does not mean "no merit is gained." It means "not craving it, not carrying it around." After the gift, merit arises of itself—but the bodhisattva does not tuck it into his breast and keep reckoning "how much have I stored up." Given is given; the mind does not stick to "I have done a great meritorious deed."

You see, this is "not abiding in marks" carried all the way through: not only no abiding at the moment of giving, but after the giving is done, no abiding even in that merit. The whole sūtra closes on eight characters—"not grasping at marks, unmoving as suchness." Grasp no mark at all; the mind, in suchness, does not waver. This is the full picture of giving without abiding in marks: the hand moves; the mind does not.

Walking On

With that one phrase, "not abiding in marks," the Diamond Sūtra makes the three wheels empty sharp and alive—and sings it straight into the heart.

But among the prajñā sūtras there is one shorter and more widely known still—short enough to chant in two minutes, known by heart by almost everyone in the Chinese world. And here is the strange thing: this sūtra, the most distilled teaching of prajñā there is, from beginning to end never once mentions the word "giving."

How can a sūtra on the bodhisattva path pass over giving entirely—the first of the six pāramitās? In the next chapter we look into that telling silence: the Heart Sūtra.