Finer and Finer

5.2 Finer and Finer

If the first ground's path of seeing has severed the discriminated afflictions outright, the next question follows at once: why are there still a second ground, a third, all the way to a tenth? If one cut of seeing finished the work, what are nine more grounds for?

The answer showed its head at the close of the last chapter. What seeing severs is only the class that is "the path of seeing's to sever"—the bonds of view, confused about principle, which die the moment the principle is seen. There is another class, "the path of cultivation's to sever"—the subtle afflictions that arise from beginningless habituation, stirring of themselves, confused about things (what the Yogācāra masters call the innate afflictions)—whose roots are wound through beginningless habit and which no single moment of insight can pull up at once. Of their going, Vasubandhu's judgment uses four words: "thin and recede"—the three realms' afflictions of the path of cultivation, with the habit-energies of ignorance, across the grounds "all thin and recede gradually." A gradual thinning, a gradual receding—not an extinguishing at one stroke. The six grounds from the second to the seventh walk exactly this long road of the "path of cultivation."

The difference of outright and gradual is rooted in the nature of what is severed. The afflictions confused about principle are one class: see the principle through, and they are done—hence seeing needs only one position (the first ground). The afflictions confused about things are numberless, their habits thick—hence cultivation must run through many grounds. A comparison: the first ground's outright severance is a sluice-gate opened—the one body of water it held pours out at once. The second-to-seventh grounds' gradual severance is the sea-tide going out—not emptied in an instant, but wave by wave, lower and lower, the tideline receding ground by ground until the flats lie bare. The first ground is the single stroke through bamboo; the path of cultivation is the long labor of the ebbing tide.

Six Grounds, Six Names

The names of the second through seventh grounds Vasubandhu glosses one by one, and read in a row they are a road of counteraction running coarse to fine.

The second, the Ground of Stainlessness—"leaving the defilements of affliction that could still raise an erring mind to break the precepts; the pure precepts complete." What is left behind is the stain that could still tip a mind into transgression; here the discipline stands wholly clean. The third, the Light-Emitting Ground (the treatise's gloss writes "the Ground of Radiance"—same ground, variant name)—"according with hearing, reflection, and cultivation, the dharmas shine forth": no more dimness toward the teachings heard; like light on objects, the dharmas show clear. The fourth, the Ground of Blazing Wisdom (the treatise: "the Flaming Ground")—"the fuel of the afflictions, never forgotten, the fire of wisdom can burn": wisdom as fire, afflictions as fuel, and the fire now hot enough to take it. The fifth, the Hard-to-Conquer Ground—"attaining the skill-in-means of world-transcending wisdom, able to ferry the hard-to-ferry." The sixth, the Manifest Ground—listed between Hard-to-Conquer and Far-Reaching; the gloss of its name this book does not unfold here. The seventh, the Far-Reaching Ground—"well cultivating the application of the markless practice, ultimately able to pass beyond the world-transcending path of the two vehicles of the world." That sentence is held for below; it is this chapter's stress.

Matched to the six names stand the second through seventh entries of Vasubandhu's table of obstacles: the obstacle of wrong conduct; of forgetting; of conceit about understood dharma; of self-conceit in bodily purity; of subtle afflictive habit; of subtle-mark habit. String the obstacle-names together and the sequence speaks for itself—the second ground's "wrong conduct" is still the comparatively coarse affliction of transgression; the third's "forgetting," the fourth's "conceit of understanding," the fifth's "conceit of purity" run each a layer finer; and by the sixth and seventh the obstacles are named outright "subtle afflictive habit," "fine-mark habit"—what is being countered is now the last fine residue of the afflictive habits.

A comparison: polishing. A craftsman polishing a vessel begins with coarse stone, grinding off the obvious edges (the second ground leaving the wrong conduct of transgression—the roughness most in the way); changes to a middling grit for the finer flaws (the third through fifth grounds' forgetting and conceits—blemishes layer by layer smaller); and finishes with the finest abrasive and soft cloth, working over scratches the eye can barely find (the sixth and seventh grounds' subtle and fine-mark habits). Each grade of grit removes only its own layer and reveals a finer one beneath; the grit grows ever finer, the marks ever fainter. The six grounds of cultivation do not grind one spot over and over; they grind layer by layer toward the finer—each ground countering one obstacle, thinning one measure of affliction, gaining one measure of purity. The finer the obstacle, the more refined the counteraction; the thinner the affliction, the higher the ground. "Finer and finer" is the path of cultivation's whole character.

Far-Reaching: Past the Place Where the Two Vehicles Stop

The seventh ground's name-gloss must be read on its own:

Well cultivating the application of the markless practice, ultimately able to pass beyond the world-transcending path of the two vehicles of the world; hence it is named the Far-Reaching Ground.

"Able to pass beyond the world-transcending path of the two vehicles"—this sentence is the express landing, in the path of cultivation, of the last chapter's "one knife, two ledgers."

First the sameness. The arhat's path of cultivation, too, follows the path of seeing: the afflictions of views severed, he goes on severing the three realms' afflictions of cultivation, gradually, to the end, and realizes the fruit. The bodhisattva's second through seventh grounds, too, follow the first ground's severance of the discriminated, going on to thin the innate, subtle afflictions across the grounds of cultivation. The overall format—"seeing severs the afflictions of views; cultivation severs those of cultivation"—the bodhisattva shares with the two vehicles, and the three realms' afflictions thinned are of the same class. This book has not denied the sameness anywhere, and does not here.

Then the word "pass." The two vehicles also walk a world-transcending path—but their path has a stopping place: severance complete, the fruit realized, final nirvāṇa entered; end of the line, tools down. The bodhisattva at the seventh ground is "ultimately able to pass beyond" the two vehicles' world-transcending path: to pass is to overtake, to go beyond—not to stop where the two vehicles stop. A comparison: two mountain trails run together for their first half (the same gradual severing of the innate afflictions on the path of cultivation). At a certain point comes a fork. The two vehicles' trail posts a terminus there: "summit here; you may stop." The bodhisattva's trail, at the same fork, posts another sign: "the road runs on; you may pass." So one settles in at the station, and one goes past the terminus toward the higher, farther peaks. Together for the first half, parted at the fork—the name "Far-Reaching" marks exactly this far: far past where the two vehicles stop, on toward the buddha-ground they do not reach.

Guard against one inverted reading: "passing beyond the two vehicles" means going past the place where they stop—never "attaining the two vehicles' fruit" or "being as the two vehicles." Quite the opposite: the word "pass" marks precisely that the bodhisattva does not stop there. To read "pass" as "same" is to read the name backwards.

Thinned Is Not Severed Through

The customary clearing of a misunderstanding, to close: when the second through seventh grounds are walked, are the innate afflictions severed to the end? No. "Thin and recede" is thinning, not exhaustion: six grounds, each thinning a measure, and at the seventh the finest habits still remain—the eighth ground and beyond, to buddhahood itself, finish the work. Read "thinned" as "severed through," and the whole course past the eighth ground is erased.

Two takings for the practitioner. First, patience from the difference of outright and gradual: the coarse afflictions of mistaken view may yield quickly once the view is righted; the deep, fine habits of beginningless custom—if even noble bodhisattvas on the grounds need six grounds to grind them thin, how much more we? That coarse yields fast and fine resists long is the shape of the road, not the badness of your practice—do not demand one leap, and do not lose heart that the fine is slow. Second, a working order from "coarse to fine": in countering the afflictions, first the coarse, then the fine—remove first what most blocks the hand, then grind by layers toward the subtler habit; do not skip grades chasing the fine, do not stall at the coarse. Change the grit from coarse to fine, and the work keeps step with the road.

Only—ground to the seventh, one thing has not changed: the effort. The seventh ground's own gloss carries the word in plain sight—"well cultivating the markless practice's application." From the first arousing of the mind to the seventh ground, the bodhisattva has been applying, exerting, adding effort thought by thought, the whole way. Does practice ever reach a day when the forcing stops? Next chapter: the eighth ground.