華嚴經 義疏通講 · 冊18Avataṃsaka Sūtra · Exposition Throughout · Vol. 18

The Name of This Good Friend Is His Dharma

The third of those Sudhana calls upon as he journeys south is a monk named Well-Abiding. The name was not set down at random. The sūtra text, the moment it opens, lets Sudhana see him “walking back and forth, coming and going in empty space”—a man walking in empty space, walking there as upon level ground. Name and mark are here one thing: only one who can abide is called Well-Abiding.

The ancient worthies each take the word “abiding” in their own way. Fazang's Tanxuan ji, glossing this name, says, “‘Well-faring’ is entering skillfully into the abiding in principle. Further, his body abides in empty space and his road is walked without obstruction, and he is therefore named Well-Abiding”—which sets up the sense upon the two sides of the recompense that is the environment and the recompense that is the person: skillful entering on the side of principle, freedom from obstruction on the side of the matter. Li Tongxuan, for his part, sets up the sense upon what this stage puts an end to, saying, “This stage puts an end to the delusions of the three realms entirely; abiding with nothing to abide in, he is named Well-Abiding”—abiding with nothing to abide in is what it is truly to be able to abide. But Li Tongxuan at once, beneath that same stretch, sets out his own bounds: he says that this stage, together with the monk Ocean Banner of the sixth abode, has “obtained the absence of the view of action belonging to the three realms” and that they “in equal measure still have the residual perfuming,” that he has “not yet obtained the sovereign spiritual penetration of the samādhi of quiescence that belongs to the sixth abode,” that the letters and crafts of the world are not yet complete in him, and that he has only “come forth from a portion of the coarse action of the three realms, and obtained a portion of spiritual penetration.” The ‘entirely’ of what the stage puts an end to is said of what this stage has to put an end to, and is not a saying that all is finished at once.

A misreading has to be set aside: do not read “Well-Abiding” as settled and unmoving. What the sūtra text writes is precisely coming and going, walking back and forth; it is abiding within movement. Brought down to the ground: what is called being able to abide is not finding a place where one need not move again, but not being turned by movement when one moves.

Where the Name of the Stage, “Assigned to the Abode of Cultivation,” Comes From

Reading this section, a doubt easily arises: the sūtra text from beginning to end never says which stage the monk Well-Abiding stands for, and the words “abode of cultivation” are not seen even once within the sūtra. Where, then, does this name of a stage come from?

The answer has to be stated plainly: it comes from the outlines of the ancient worthies, and it is carried on from Chengguan's Huayan jing shu. Chengguan outlines this stretch saying, “Third, the monk Well-Abiding, assigned to the abode of cultivation. The text likewise has six complete”; and the Yanyi chao further glosses the sense of this stage, saying, “Third, Well-Abiding is assigned to the abode of cultivation. That is, he skillfully observes emptiness and existence and increases his cultivation of right practice”—skillfully observing emptiness and existence is the lesson of this stage.

What, then, is the lesson on the page that ‘skillfully observing emptiness and existence’ comes down to? When the Yanyi chao glosses this stage, it brings out the ten things to be studied that the bodhisattva Dharma-Wisdom sets forth for the third abode, the abode of cultivation, in the Chapter on the Ten Abodes. The sūtra text of that chapter reads, word for word: “This bodhisattva should be urged to study ten things. What are the ten? Namely: contemplating the realm of beings, the realm of dharmas, the realm of worlds; contemplating the earth element, the water element, the fire element, the wind element; contemplating the realm of desire, the realm of form, the formless realm.” The ten realms fall into three groups: the realm of beings, the realm of dharmas, and the realm of worlds are the general object of contemplation; earth, water, fire, and wind are the vessel relied upon; desire, form, and the formless are the realms passed through. (What the chao brings out reads “What are the ten? Namely the realm of beings,” differing slightly in wording from the Chapter on the Ten Abodes in the base text, which reads “What are the ten? Namely: contemplating the realm of beings”; both are recorded without judgment.) A misreading to be set aside: that ‘contemplating’ means counting ten things over once. The Chapter on the Ten Abodes itself goes on to say what it is for—“so that the bodhisattva's wisdom may be clear, and that whatever Dharma he hears he may understand and open up of himself, not by another's teaching”: the ten realms are contemplated so that later, when he hears the Dharma, he can open it up himself and need not wait to have everything explained. Brought down to the ground: these ten are not within the sūtra text of this section; they are brought over by the author of the chao from the Chapter on the Ten Abodes and fastened to this stage. If a reader asks what the abode of cultivation actually cultivates, what the ancient worthies point to is this contemplation of the ten realms.

Where he outlines this assembly as a whole, Chengguan has an even-handed judgment upon the matter of “matching the stages”: “Both have their reason. That is, since every single stage is furnished with many dharma gates, how should an ordinary mind be kept from practicing and seeking the dharma of the good friends? Hence not to match them has its reason. Yet within what has no sequence of stages, the sequence of stages is not hindered; to display the stages is the constant rule, and to match them is likewise no fault.” Both the saying that matches them and the saying that does not have their reason, and the matching does not hinder the fact that they are not sequential—so the name of the stage is a way of reading, not something the sūtra text judges of itself. Set aside a misreading: the notion that the sūtra text is itself laying out a ladder of stages. The sūtra text only relates one monk and one exchange of question and answer. Brought down to the ground: in reading the chapters on the good friends, take the name of the stage as a map given by the ancient worthies—a map helps you know the road, but the road is walked by the sūtra text itself.

Seeking in Accord with the Teaching (one): Ten Sentences of “Focused Mindfulness,” and What Is Held in Mind Is What the Previous Good Friend Gave

As Sudhana journeys south he carries one thing with him all the way: he holds in mind. The sūtra text runs on for ten sentences—focused in mindfulness of the teaching of the good friend, focused in mindfulness of the dharma gate of the universal eye, focused in mindfulness of the spiritual power of the Buddha, focused in holding to the cloud of the sentences of the Dharma, focused in entering the gate of the sea of the Dharma, focused in pondering the differences of the Dharma, entering deeply into the swirling depths of the Dharma, entering universally into the empty space of the Dharma, cleansing away and governing the cataracts upon the Dharma, and observing the place where the treasure of the Dharma lies.

These ten sentences are not a rhetorical series; they have a sequence. Chengguan divides them into four joints: “First, the mindfulness of the teaching of the previous friend has ten sentences: the first one is the general mindfulness of the person who showed the teaching and of the dharma; the next three are mindfulness of the matter of the Dharma told by the Buddha which he had heard before; the next three are the pondering and the entering of the sea and the observing of the matter; the last three are the realizing of principle, the governing of obstruction, and the gathering of the Dharma by observation and cultivation.” The first sentence holds in mind, in general, the person who taught him and the dharma; the three and the three in the middle are, the one set the matters of the Dharma he heard, the other set the observing that is the entering of the sea; the last three are already realizing, governing obstruction, and cultivating observation—not mindfulness only.

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that in study under good friends one station is dropped when the next is reached. The sūtra text says plainly the opposite—before going to see the third, he first passes once more through the dharma gate of the universal eye conferred by the second. Brought down to the ground: a new dharma does not replace the old one; it is climbed by treading upon the old. Without these ten sentences of mindfulness, what the next good friend gives cannot be caught either.

Seeking in Accord with the Teaching (two): The Journey South Is a Walk to the “Sea-Shore”

The holding in mind and the walking are not one before the other; Fazang outlines this stretch as “first calling to mind the Dharma before, and going along the road.” The sūtra text has only one sentence, “By stages he journeyed south, reached the village on the sea-shore of the Laṅkā road, observed the ten directions, and searched and sought out Well-Abiding”—by stages, not in a single step; observing the ten directions, that is, having arrived at the place he must still search.

The ancient worthies have glossed this place-name. Fazang says, “It is because this land leads through toward Mount Laṅkā. Further, because he reaches the shore of the surpassing stream of the Dharma realm. Further, because before he entered at the sea gate, and now he has reached the sea-shore”—three senses standing side by side: first, that geographically it leads to Laṅkā; second, that “shore” is taken as the shore of the Dharma realm; third, that it joins with the “sea gate” of the previous good friend, the monk Ocean Cloud: there he entered the sea, here he reaches the shore. Li Tongxuan, for his part, sets up the sense upon the number of the distance journeyed, saying, “As for the sixty yojanas, it makes clear that this stage puts an end to the delusions of the four dhyānas and the four formless attainments, the eight dhyānas, of the upper two realms.”

Brought down to the ground: journeying south is not changing places, it is changing what is put an end to. What the previous friend entered was the sea; what this one reaches is the shore. Place-names in the sūtra are very often the position of the Dharma itself.

Seeing, Paying Respect, and Inquiring (one): The First Thing Sudhana Sees Is That the Man Is in Empty Space

Sudhana does not hear a dharma first; he sees a mark first. “He saw this monk walking back and forth, coming and going in empty space”—this one sentence is the seed of the whole stretch of spiritual powers in this section: all the various things displayed in the eighteen transformations Chengguan later counts are in truth the opening out of this one sentence.

Li Tongxuan has a very fine reading of this sentence: “‘He saw this monk walking back and forth, coming and going in empty space’ makes clear that he does not abide in the dhyāna of stilling the mind and abiding in mindfulness of the upper two realms, and does not abide in the dhyāna that comes forth from the three realms; because he neither abides nor comes forth, it says walking back and forth, coming and going.” He reads the two words “coming and going” as a twofold not-abiding—not abiding within concentration, and not abiding within coming forth either; neither abiding nor coming forth, and so he comes and goes.

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that walking in empty space is a matter of great prowess. On Tongxuan's reading here, what it displays is not falling to either side. Brought down to the ground: whether a man can truly abide is seen in whether he can keep from halting at either side—not in how long he can halt.

Seeing, Paying Respect, and Inquiring (two): Ten Classes of Heavenly Beings, Each Making Offerings in Its Own Way

Next comes the most lavishly laid-out stretch in this section: the gods scattering flowers and making music, the dragon kings raising clouds of incense and shaking out thunder and striking lightning, the kiṃnara kings playing music and praising, the mahoraga kings spreading garments of the utmost fineness, the asura kings raising clouds of maṇi jewels, the garuḍa kings taking the shape of youths and joining their palms, the rākṣasa kings bending their bodies and gazing up, the yakṣa kings guarding on all four sides, the Brahmā kings praising in the manner of men, and the gods of the Pure Abodes coming together with their palaces and giving rise to vast vows—ten classes in all.

Note that the wording of the sūtra text is not made uniform: the first five all close with “and these they made into offerings,” while the latter five each make their own—“joined their palms in offering,” “gazing up in offering,” “guarded him reverently,” “praising him,” “gave rise to vast vows.” The mark of the offering differs according to the class, and is not forced into one rule. Fazang, upon this stretch in the Jin translation, judges: “Below, the offerings of the gods and the rest have ten sentences, making clear the practice of the retinue.”

Li Tongxuan, for his part, sets out what each class signifies: “That the ten kings reverently make offerings makes clear that the practice of gathering in beings is everywhere, and displays that the wisdom of the practice of the ten perfections is sovereign”; and again, “Mahoraga is the sense of reverence. Asura is the sense of being within the sea of birth-and-death and not sinking,” “That the garuḍa kings take the shape of youths, surrounded by attendant maidens, is the sense of a wisdom and compassion that leave conceit behind and are humble,” “The rākṣasa kings are the sense of abiding in the sea of birth-and-death and guarding beings with great compassion. The yakṣa kings are the sense of guarding beings with great wisdom, for they are able to course through empty space swiftly, and so are like the swiftness and sovereignty of wisdom,” “That the gods of the Pure Abodes are in empty space together with their palaces displays the sense of a wisdom and compassion that are sovereign and that hold and nourish”; and he gathers it all up at the end in one sentence: “That all of these are said to be of an inconceivable number displays that the practice is complete throughout the myriad things and universally holds all that lives.”

There are several further classes that Li Tongxuan signifies which the above has not yet taken in. The dragons he fastens to the arising of practice within the emptiness of dharmas: “Taking it as arising practice within the emptiness of dharmas, the recompense-born dragon kings display that wisdom is sovereign. The rolling thunder makes clear that the sound of the Dharma resounds everywhere; the flashing lightning makes clear that wisdom breaks through delusion. That the kiṃnara kings strike up the many kinds of music makes clear that by the sound of the Dharma all beings are gladdened.” The thunder and the lightning the dragons manifest are two marks: one displays the resounding of the sound of the Dharma everywhere, the other the breaking through of delusion by wisdom; and the music the kiṃnaras strike up displays the gladdening of beings by the sound of the Dharma. To the Brahmā kings he gives only one clause: “The Brahmā kings are the sense of reverence.” A misreading to be set aside: that signifying means assigning each class of beings a label. All Li Tongxuan's matching comes to one thing—that the wisdom of the practice of the ten perfections is sovereign; and that is why he gathers it all up at the end in a single sentence saying that these inconceivable numbers display the completeness of the practice throughout. Brought down to the ground: if one reads this stretch and remembers only which king signifies which sense, one has read it as a table of terms. What is to be remembered is why those making offerings extend through ten classes—because the virtue offered to runs through every class, the fearsome rākṣasas included.

Brought down to the ground: this stretch is not written for the sake of a crowd and a stir. That ten classes of beings each make offerings in the way each is able says precisely that the virtue of the one to whom they are offered runs through every class—even a shape as fearful as a rākṣasa's is among them, bending its body and joining its palms.

Seeing, Paying Respect, and Inquiring (three): Sudhana First States Where He Himself Stands

Having seen the mark, only then does Sudhana open his mouth. His first sentence is not a question; it is a statement: “Holy one! I have already given rise, before this, to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi”—he first states plainly where he himself stands, and then asks.

Chengguan divides this joint, saying, “Third, from ‘he spoke in this way’ onward is the inquiring. Within it are two: first, the stating of his own giving rise to the mind; after that, from ‘yet I do not know’ onward, the direct setting out of the request and the question.” The stating of oneself comes first and the request and question after, and this sequence appears again and again through the fifty-three visits.

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that seeking the Dharma is throwing out one's questions. The rule of the sūtra text is to establish one's ground first. Brought down to the ground: before asking about the Dharma, state plainly which step you are already at and what mind you have already given rise to; only then does the good friend know which layer to give you. Ask vaguely, and the answer can only be vague.

Seeing, Paying Respect, and Inquiring (four): Ten Sentences of General Question—Ten Actions upon One and the Same Thing

Sudhana's question falls into two stretches. In the first, ten sentences, each of them set against “the Buddha-Dharma”: how to cultivate and practice the Buddha-Dharma, to gather and accumulate it, to be furnished with it, to perfume himself with it, to increase and grow it, to gather it up entire, to bring it to its end, to cleanse and govern it, to purify it deeply, to penetrate through to it.

Chengguan judges these ten sentences to be “the first ten sentences are the general question, because practice is given rise to upon the Dharma,” and he glosses two of the phrases in them that are not easy to understand: “Among them, cleansing and governing is because it is pure by counteracting. Purifying deeply is because it is universally pure by according with principle.” Cleansing and governing is being pure by counteracting—where there is an illness a medicine is applied; purifying deeply is being universally pure by according with principle—it is not washing one place clean, but that once one has penetrated on the side of principle, every place is of itself pure.

A misreading has to be set aside: taking these ten sentences as ten separate matters to be worked at one by one. They are ten actions upon one matter: by taking one accumulates, by accumulating one is furnished, by being furnished one ripens, and only at the end is there penetrating through. Brought down to the ground: in examining oneself one may use these ten verbs as a sequence—am I at the layer of “gathering and accumulating,” or have I already come to the layer of “cleansing and governing”?

Seeing, Paying Respect, and Inquiring (five): Ten Sentences of Particular Question, All upon the One Word “Not Forsake”

In the second stretch of ten sentences the openings are all the same—“How is a bodhisattva to not forsake”: not forsaking the seeing of the Buddhas, not forsaking the bodhisattvas, not forsaking the Buddha-Dharma, not forsaking the great vows, not forsaking the manifold practices, not forsaking the Buddha-fields, not forsaking the powers of the Buddhas, not forsaking the conditioned and yet not abiding in it either, not forsaking the hearing of the Dharma, not forsaking the light of wisdom.

The above lists only the ten openings of “not forsake”; in fact each sentence has a second half, and the second half is what is actually being asked about: not forsaking the seeing of the Buddhas is “constantly and diligently cultivating in their presence”; not forsaking the bodhisattvas is “sharing one and the same root of good with all the bodhisattvas”; not forsaking the Buddha-Dharma is “gaining clear realization of it all through wisdom”; not forsaking the great vows is “being able to benefit all beings universally”; not forsaking the manifold practices is “abiding through all kalpas with a mind that never wearies”; not forsaking the Buddha-fields is “being able to adorn and purify all worlds throughout”; not forsaking the powers of the Buddhas is “being able to know and see the sovereignty of the Tathāgatas”; not forsaking the conditioned and yet not abiding in it either is “being, universally within all the destinies of existence, as it were a transformation, displaying the undergoing of birth-and-death and cultivating the practice of a bodhisattva”; not forsaking the hearing of the Dharma is “being able to receive the right teaching of all the Buddhas”; not forsaking the light of wisdom is “entering universally where the wisdom of the three times ranges.” A misreading to be set aside: that ‘not forsaking’ is merely an attitude of not giving up. The second halves show otherwise—each sentence comes down on something actually done: sharing a root of good is done together with others, clear realization is tested by wisdom, never wearying is going through kalpas without tiring, adorning and purifying is actual work upon the lands. Brought down to the ground: when one asks oneself about ‘not forsaking,’ ask the second half along with it—not forsaking the seeing of the Buddhas: is there, then, any “constantly and diligently cultivating in their presence”? Without the second half, the first is only a wish.

Chengguan divides them into five groups: “The first three sentences make clear the practice of not departing from the Three Jewels; the next two, the practice of not forsaking the two benefits; the next two, the practice of gathering in the Buddhas' environment and person; the next one, the practice of a compassion and wisdom that do not abide; the last two, the practice of gathering the Dharma and realizing entry”; and he points out the reason why all ten sentences use “not forsake”: “That all of them say ‘not forsake’ is because there is not a moment of forsaking and departing.” It is not an occasional not-forsaking; it is that not for one instant has there ever been forsaking.

The most closely pressed of the ten sentences is the eighth, “How is a bodhisattva to not forsake the conditioned and yet not abide in it either”—neither forsaking the conditioned nor abiding in the conditioned, and so Chengguan judges it to be “the practice of a compassion and wisdom that do not abide.” Not forsaking is compassion; not abiding is wisdom. Brought down to the ground: the two side roads most easily taken in practice are, the one, disliking conditioned dharmas as troublesome and so dropping them, and the other, working away at them and settling down inside them as one works. This one sentence blocks both sides at once.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (one): Well-Abiding First Praises, and What He Praises Is That Sudhana “Has Further Given Rise to the Mind”

Well-Abiding's first sentence is praise: “It is good! It is good! Son of good family! You have already been able to give rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, and now you have further given rise to the mind to ask about the Buddha-Dharma, the Dharma of the wisdom of all things, and the Dharma of that which is of itself so.”

Note the words “now you have further given rise to the mind”—having already given rise to the mind of awakening is one giving rise to the mind, and coming now to ask is one more giving rise to the mind. What is praised is not what he already has; it is that he is still giving rise.

The three dharmas he asks about Chengguan divides very clearly: “In the former, the Buddha-Dharma is the general; the Dharma of the wisdom of all things is stated in terms of wisdom, yet it is confined to the fruit alone. That which is of itself so—the Dharma is stated in terms of nature, and runs through both fruit and cause.” The Buddha-Dharma is the general statement; the Dharma of the wisdom of all things, stated in terms of wisdom, belongs to the Buddha-fruit alone; the Dharma of that which is of itself so, stated in terms of the nature of dharmas, runs through both the stage of the cause and the stage of the fruit.

Brought down to the ground: the three things Sudhana asks about go a layer deeper each time—first he asks after the general of the Dharma, then after the wisdom upon the fruit, and last after that which is thus of itself and not made by anything. Only when one asks the Dharma as far as the third is one not merely seeking a set of methods.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (two): The General Marking of What He Obtained—“Without Obstruction” Has Two Senses

Well-Abiding, in conferring the Dharma, first brings out the general marking: “Son of good family! I have already accomplished the bodhisattva's gate of liberation without obstruction,” and he states the manner in which the Dharma was obtained and the name of the light of wisdom obtained—within the four deportments, pondering, cultivating, and observing in accord with it, and “at that very moment I obtained the light of wisdom named Ultimate Freedom from Obstruction.”

The two words “without obstruction” Chengguan opens into two senses: “Freedom from obstruction has two senses: one, that wisdom is without obstruction toward its objects, because he realizes the Dharma realm that is without obstruction; two, that spiritual penetration is without obstruction in its functioning, by reason of the inward realizing.” The one is freedom from obstruction toward objects, the other freedom from obstruction in the arising of function; and freedom from obstruction in function comes from the inward realizing, not from training up another set of skills. As for the name of the light of wisdom, Chengguan glosses it saying, “As for its being called ultimate freedom from obstruction, it is because whether in the matter or in the principle there is not the least obstruction”—only when there is not a hair's breadth of obstruction on either side, matter or principle, is it called ultimate.

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that spiritual powers are a technique arrived at by training. The sequence here is that freedom from obstruction toward objects is realized first, and freedom from obstruction in function follows upon it. Brought down to the ground: the twelve sentences below in this section speak of the former sense, and the eighteen transformations of the latter; in reading, one may take these two measures and set them against the text separately.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (three): Twelve Sentences of “Without Any Obstruction,” and That “Why Is This?”

After obtaining the light of wisdom, the sūtra text runs on for twelve sentences, each closing with “without any obstruction”: knowing the ranging of the minds of beings, knowing their passing away and their birth, knowing their past lives, knowing the affairs of the kalpas to come, knowing the affairs of the present age, knowing the differences of speech and of the sounds of the voice, settling questions of doubt, knowing the faculties, going and reaching them in accord with the seasons at which they ought to be transformed, knowing the time-divisions of the kṣaṇa, the lava, the muhūrta, and of day and night, knowing the sequence in which the sea of the three times turns in its flowing, and being able with his body to go everywhere to all the Buddha-fields of the ten directions.

Chengguan matches them following the text: “Now the first: there are twelve sentences. The first one is the knowing of others' minds; the next four take in the three clear knowledges as well—that is, the affairs of the present and of the kalpas to come, since they include the exhaustion of the outflows; the next four are the transforming of beings by the three kinds of action; the next two are knowing time—one, knowing the time-divisions, and two, knowing the turning in flowing”; and the last sentence he judges to be “the last one is the spiritual penetration of the feet of the spirit.” The Yanyi chao has another way of taking them, saying, “If they be taken in terms of opening and gathering, then the ten penetrations are complete,” and it matches them sentence by sentence to ten kinds of spiritual penetration. The two matchings differ in number, but what is matched is these same twelve sentences.

The ten penetrations of the Yanyi chao are not a second set started afresh; they are made by gathering two of these twelve sentences, opening two, and gathering three. Sentence by sentence: the first is the penetration of others' minds; the second and third both count as the recollection of former abodes, since they are spoken of in terms of “dying and being born,” and knowing past dying and being born is likewise the recollection of former abodes; the fourth is the penetration of the wisdom of the kalpas of the future; the fifth is the heavenly eye; the sixth gathers speech and sound into one penetration, namely the penetration of the wisdom that distinguishes the speech-sounds of all beings—sound belongs properly to the heavenly ear, and the chao says it is “opened out from the one heavenly ear, and so it is here gathered together”; the seventh, eighth, and ninth all belong to the penetration of the wisdom of all dharmas, being respectively the wisdom that cuts off doubt, the wisdom that knows the faculties, and the wisdom that knows time; the tenth and eleventh both belong to the penetration of the wisdom of the extinction of all dharmas, the chao judging that “the former sentence is the exhaustion of the instant, the latter the exhaustion of the long turning in flowing”; the twelfth is the feet of the spirit, namely the penetration without substantial nature and the penetration of measureless form-bodies, which “are likewise both opened out from the sphere of the spirit.” It closes with one sentence: “Thus within this text the sense of the ten penetrations is complete.” A misreading to be set aside: that twelve and ten are two different lists. What is matched is the same stretch of sūtra text; only the way of taking it differs—following the text, one sees sentences; in terms of opening and gathering, one sees penetrations. Brought down to the ground: where the ancient worthies match a passage in two ways, first ask ‘are they matching the same words’; if they are, there is no need to argue over which number is better.

As for the names of the time-divisions among them, Chengguan sets up their measures upon the Jushe lun: “Examining the Jushe lun: the very least of time is called one kṣaṇa; a hundred and twenty kṣaṇas are called one tatkṣaṇa; sixty tatkṣaṇas are called one làfù, and the làfù is the same as the luópó here,” and going on below, thirty lavas make one muhūrta, and thirty moments make one day and night.

The most weighty thing of all is the one question and the one answer after these twelve sentences: “Why is this? Because he has obtained the power of spiritual penetration that does not abide and does not act.” The root of twelve freedoms from obstruction is only nine graphs. Fazang, at this place in the Jin translation, notes the name in the text from India: “The text from India names it the spiritual power without substantial nature and without acting.” Without substantial nature is having nothing to abide in; without acting is being without effortful function. Brought down to the ground: freedom from obstruction is not a capacity so strong that nothing blocks it; it is that fundamentally there is no place of lodging that could be blocked.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (four): Manifesting Transformations in Empty Space—the Eighteen Transformations Chengguan Counts

Next comes the first stretch of the function of spiritual penetration. The sūtra text writes that Well-Abiding, in empty space, now walks, now stands, now sits, now lies down, now is hidden, now is displayed, now manifests one body, now manifests many bodies; “he passes through walls just as through empty space”; sitting cross-legged in empty space, “coming and going at his ease just as a flying bird does”; “entering the ground as though it were water, treading on water as though it were the ground”; smoke and flames coming forth from his whole body “like one great mass of fire”; and again shaking the great earth, touching the sun and the moon with his hand, his body so tall that it reaches the palace of Brahmā; and again manifesting clouds of burning incense, clouds of jeweled flames, clouds of transformations, and clouds of nets of light, “all of them vast and wide, covering over the ten directions.”

Chengguan judges these three stretches together to be the marks of the feet of the spirit, and himself counts out a number: “Third, the particular making clear of the function of penetration mostly displays the feet of the spirit and runs through the marks of the eighteen transformations. And it is divided into three: first, manifesting transformations in empty space; second, from ‘or within a single thought’ onward, offerings everywhere in the ten directions; third, from ‘thus in all’ onward, manifesting forms and benefiting beings”; and his gloss item by item begins from “As for what is called the eighteen transformations: one, walking and standing and so forth in empty space, which is being sovereign in what is done. Two, now hidden; three, now displayed; four, now manifesting one body, which is the furling. Five, now manifesting many bodies, which is the unfurling,” and runs on matching them all the way to the eighteenth.

Of the eighteen, what is cited above reaches only the fifth; the sixth through the eleventh still lie within the stretch on manifesting transformations in empty space, while from the twelfth onward they fall across the two stretches of offerings everywhere and of benefiting beings. The one sentence to which the four clouds are fastened, “all of them vast, covering over the ten directions,” Chengguan judges to be “completing the emitting of light above and setting off the extending everywhere below”—it gathers up the light of what precedes and sets off the universality of what follows. From there onward: the twelfth, from “or within a single thought,” is extending everywhere; the thirteenth, from “at each Buddha,” is displaying; the fourteenth, from “all that each Tathāgata sets forth,” is granting eloquence to others, “since he is able to hold it”; the fifteenth, from “thus in all,” is granting ease to others, “since awakening is true ease”; the sixteenth, from “those worlds,” is going in a likeness to their kind; the seventeenth, from “if there are beings who draw near,” is granting mindfulness to others; and the eighteenth is fastened to no one sentence but is that “by wholly possessing the power of penetration that does not act, he is able to subdue the spiritual penetrations of others.” Chengguan lays down his brush here saying, “Within the three stretches they are complete.” A misreading to be set aside: that the eighteen transformations are all marks manifested upon his own body. The later ones show otherwise—past the thirteenth what is transformed lies for the most part not in himself but in others: granting eloquence to others, granting ease to others, granting mindfulness to others; what is transformed is what beings obtain. Brought down to the ground: by its second half the spiritual penetration has already turned—the first half displays the freedom from obstruction of his own person, the second the benefit received by others; and this turn is the bridge by which this section is able to close upon moral discipline.

A misreading has to be set aside: reading this stretch as a display of the marvelous. The four clouds are all fastened to the one sentence, “all of them vast and wide, covering over the ten directions”—everything manifested points toward the universal, not toward the extraordinary. Brought down to the ground: spiritual power here is the look of freedom from obstruction, not the aim of it.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (five): Offerings Everywhere in the Ten Directions—Within a Single Thought, Passing Unspeakable Worlds

The second stretch turns to offerings. The sūtra text says that within a single thought he passes, in the east, one world, two worlds, a hundred worlds, a thousand worlds, and on to unspeakably unspeakable worlds, and on to “worlds as many as the dust motes of unspeakably unspeakable Buddha-fields”; that before all those Buddhas he hears the Dharma told; that in the presence of each single Buddha he manifests differentiated bodies as many as the dust motes of measureless Buddha-fields; that each single body rains down clouds of offering as many as the dust motes of measureless Buddha-fields—the ten clouds set out one by one: clouds of flowers, of incense, of garlands, of powdered incense, of ointment incense, of canopies, of garments, of standards, of banners, of curtains—closing at the end with “and with clouds of all bodies I make offerings.”

Note the threefold “each single” in this stretch: in the presence of each single Buddha, each single body, and whatever each single Tathāgata tells. Spiritual power here is not the saving of time; it is the carrying out of this matter of making offerings so that nothing is left out. The two words “swift” within the name of the dharma gate are precisely what Chengguan fastens to this place in glossing: “Because within each single thought he goes everywhere, it is therefore called swift.”

Brought down to the ground: this stretch may be read as the utmost rule of the one matter of making offerings—not that one offers much, but that one offers with no Buddha left out, no body left out, no dharma left out.

Praising and Conferring the Dharma (six): Manifesting Forms and Benefiting Beings—Those Who See the Form All Assuredly Obtain Awakening

The third stretch falls upon beings. The sūtra text says that whatever each single Tathāgata tells, “I hold it all”; whatever adornment each single land has, “I am mindful of it all”; that as it is in the east, so it is in the south, the west, the north, the four intermediate directions, above, and below; and then it comes to beings: “if any see this form of mine, they all assuredly obtain anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi,” and “in accord with their being great or small, superior or inferior, in suffering or in joy, I display a form the same as theirs and transform them to accomplishment,” and if there are beings who draw near, “I cause them all to abide securely in a dharma gate such as this.”

Here there is a turn: what was spoken of before was all a going toward the presence of the Buddhas; what is spoken of here is a coming toward the place of beings. The words “display a form the same as theirs” weigh most—it is not lifting beings up to where one is oneself, but manifesting, ready made, a form the same as theirs. It is upon this stretch that Chengguan fastens the words “bringing beings to accomplishment” within the name of the dharma gate: “Manifesting forms and benefiting beings is the bringing of beings to accomplishment.”

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that seeing the form and obtaining awakening means the countenance has a marvelous efficacy. What the sūtra text fastens it to is the dharma gate in which he abides, and the last sentence states it plainly of itself—those who draw near are all caused to abide securely in a dharma gate such as this. Brought down to the ground: what truly delivers a person is not what form is manifested, but the Dharma that form brings with it.

Humbling Oneself and Deferring to the Superior: Having Told the Spiritual Powers, It Closes upon Twenty Words for Discipline

The turn hardest to read out in this section is here. Once the spiritual powers have been told to the end, Well-Abiding at once humbles himself: “Son of good family! I know only this gate of liberation without obstruction, of universally swift making of offerings to the Buddhas and bringing beings to accomplishment”—what he has obtained is this one gate only. Then he defers upward to the bodhisattvas, and what he defers to is not greater spiritual powers but moral discipline: the discipline of great compassion, the discipline of the perfections, the discipline of the Great Vehicle, the discipline that answers to the bodhisattva path, the discipline without obstruction, the discipline that does not fall back, the discipline that does not forsake the mind of awakening, the discipline of constantly taking the Buddha-Dharma as its object, the discipline of constantly directing the mind to the wisdom of all things, the discipline that is like empty space, the discipline that relies upon nothing in all the world, the discipline without failing, the discipline without harm, the discipline without lack, the discipline without mixture, the discipline without turbidity, the discipline without regret, the pure discipline, the discipline that leaves dust behind, and the discipline that leaves defilement behind—twenty sentences in all, closing at the end with one sentence turned back as a question: “Merits such as these—how could I know them, or be able to tell of them?”

Why is discipline made clear at this place? Chengguan says it very directly: “That all of them make moral discipline clear is meant to display that the obtaining of liberation without obstruction above is in every case by holding to the discipline of individual liberation as the ground it relies upon, because without discipline one cannot cultivate and govern the mind.” The root of all that freedom from obstruction above is discipline; without discipline the mind has no way of being cultivated and governed.

The twenty sentences Chengguan divides into three joints: “There are twenty sentences: the first eleven sentences make clear the discipline furnished with surpassing virtue,” “the next six sentences make clear the discipline that leaves faults behind,” “the last three display the pure discipline.” The first of the six disciplines that leave faults behind he glosses very close to the bone: “One, without fault or failing—that is, one does not exalt oneself, saying ‘I am able to hold the discipline,’ and when one sees a person who breaks the discipline one does not slight and disparage him so as to shame him”—to hold the discipline and be lofty about it, and to slight one who breaks it, is itself a fault.

Within the three joints Chengguan gives a reason for every single sentence, and only when they are seen together does it become clear that the twenty sentences are not one thing said twenty times. The eleven sentences of the discipline furnished with surpassing virtue he glosses thus: one, “because it is fundamentally for the benefit of beings”; two, “because one's own practice is surpassing”; three, “because it possesses the two benefits”—and of these he notes that “the above three differ from the lesser vehicle”; four, “because it arises together with the path”; five, “because nothing can make one fail to hold it”; six, “because it arises together with concentration”; seven, “because the root of practice is not lost”; eight, “because it accords with the Dharma and does not slander it”; and to the seventh and eighth he fastens the four root offenses of the Vairocana Sūtra, saying, “Now these seventh and eighth do not transgress the first two, and the without-harm and the without-turbidity do not transgress the latter two”; nine, “because it is the wisdom that takes the fruit as its condition”; ten, “because it answers to the nature of dharmas”; eleven, “because it accords with prajñā and therefore does not abide in the three realms.” The six sentences of the discipline that leaves faults behind: one, without fault or failing—which is the not exalting oneself and not slighting one who breaks the discipline cited above; two, without harm or vexation, “that is, one does not, on account of the discipline, study spells and the like so as to harm beings”; three, without lack or transgression, “that is, one completely holds the ten courses of wholesome action together with the deportments”; four, without mixture or filth, “because one does not cling to extreme views”; five, without the turbidity of stinginess and greed, “because one does not manifest an unusual appearance so as to make a show of virtue”; six, without regret or remorse, “that is, one does not commit grave offenses and does not practice flattery and deceit.” The three sentences of the pure discipline: one, “because one forgets the holder and the held, and it is ultimately pure”; two, “because one is undefiled by the six dusts”; three, “because there is no stain in the mind.” A misreading to be set aside: that the twenty sentences say ‘holding the discipline’ twenty times over. Look at the direction of the three joints—the first eleven speak of what the discipline accomplishes, the middle six of what it leaves behind, the last three of forgetting even the mind that holds and is held. Brought down to the ground: the utmost of discipline is not in holding it strictly but in holding it until there is no ‘I am holding the discipline’ to be found; and Chengguan's placing “forgetting the holder and the held” at the head of the ultimate joint says exactly this.

A misreading has to be set aside: the notion that discipline is the beginner's rung and spiritual power the high one. The order of this stretch is exactly the reverse—the man who can manifest the eighteen transformations speaks of what he himself knows as one gate, and defers the twenty sentences of discipline as what he cannot know. Brought down to the ground: if one reads only the stretch of spiritual powers in this section, one has read it backwards; this stretch of humbling oneself is the eye.

Pointing to the Next Friend: Megha, in the City of Sovereignty in the Land of Draviḍa in the South

Well-Abiding does not keep Sudhana. The sūtra text has only three sentences: “Going from here toward the south there is a land named Draviḍa, and a city named Sovereignty,” within which there is a man named Megha, “go to him and ask: how is a bodhisattva to study the practice that a bodhisattva practices and cultivate the path of a bodhisattva?”—even what he is to ask is settled for him, and it is still that one question that runs through all fifty-three visits.

Chengguan glosses the names here: “The land is named Draviḍa, which is rendered here as dissolving away; that is, because it is born of the holy teaching and dissolves away mistaken understandings. The city is named Sovereignty, because in the Buddha-Dharma of the three times he knows it fully and cultivates it, and obtains fullness”; and he glosses the name of the good friend, saying, “This is rendered as cloud, because it unfolds the letter-gate of the wheel and holds the moistening rain of the Dharma,” and notes that this stage is the good friend of the abode of noble birth.

Brought down to the ground: what makes a good friend a good friend is, on the one hand, that he knows how far his own bounds go, and on the other, that he knows whom you ought to go and see next. Pointing to the next friend is not sending someone away; it is drawing him on.

Cherishing His Virtue, Bowing, and Taking Leave

The last sentence is the shortest: “At that time, the youth Sudhana bowed to his feet, circled him to the right, gazing up, and took his leave and departed.” Chengguan has only six graphs upon it—“Sixth, bowing and taking leave, which may be known.”

Bowing the head is giving thanks for what was conferred; circling to the right and gazing up is cherishing his virtue; taking leave and departing is not halting. The three actions together make one attitude: it was received, it was cherished, and then one goes. Brought down to the ground: the difficulty of study under good friends is not in failing to meet one, but in whether, having met one, one is willing to go. To stay is to abide—and the name of this good friend is precisely Well-Abiding: the man who is able to abide is precisely the man who is able to move on.

Lineage

The text of this section opens out downward not within the treatises, but upon the ways of reading of the several houses of the ancient worthies.

The first is the line of the name and the stage. The name “Well-Abiding”: Fazang sets up the sense upon the two recompenses, environment and person, and makes it entering skillfully into the abiding in principle and the body abiding in empty space with the road walked without obstruction; Li Tongxuan sets up the sense upon what the stage puts an end to, and makes it putting an end to the delusions of the three realms entirely, abiding with nothing to abide in—while the Lun, beneath that same stretch, sets out its own bounds: a portion of the coarse action, a portion of spiritual penetration, and the sovereign spiritual penetration of the samādhi of quiescence belonging to the sixth abode, not yet obtained at this stage. As for the name of the stage, “assigned to the abode of cultivation,” it is fastened to Chengguan's outline, and the Yanyi chao glosses it as skillfully observing emptiness and existence and increasing the cultivation of right practice. Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang, in the list of the general names of the fifty-three good friends, also brings out this name, but it is a listing of the name only and no separate gloss is made upon it.

At the close of this stage Li Tongxuan matches one further thing: among the ten perfections, “here the perfection of patience is taken as principal and the remaining nine as its companions.” Why patience? The Lun does not explain why; looking at what is manifested at this stage—walking back and forth in empty space, neither abiding in concentration nor abiding in coming forth from it—this is precisely where patient endurance is called for. And he gathers up the three monks together: “These three monks make clear that within the entering of the ten abodes one obtains the mind of liberation that comes forth from the three realms, and this is again signified by monks.” Cloud of Virtue, Ocean Cloud, and Well-Abiding all have the body of a monk because what is obtained within the ten abodes is the mind of liberation that comes forth from the three realms, and the form of a monk signifies just that; whereas the next friend, Megha, the sūtra calls “a man within it,” no longer having the body of a monk. Brought down to the ground: in the fifty-three visits the very station of a good friend is itself teaching—when the station changes, the stage it signifies has turned.

The second is the line of the outlining of the text. The dividing of the stretch on conferring the Dharma differs in each of the three houses: Chengguan makes the general marking of what was obtained and the particular showing of its marks, and within the particular showing opens further the cultivating and obtaining of the Dharma and the displaying of the function of the Dharma, and within the function opens further the freedom from obstruction of the working of wisdom, the general question and answer, and the particular making clear of the function of penetration; Fazang, upon the Jin translation, makes four divisions—the general marking of the dharma gate, the glossing of the dharma gate above, the displaying of the working of the dharma gate, and the concluding of the name; and Zhiyan makes four—distinguishing the substance of the Dharma, distinguishing its function, making clear the practice of gathering and transforming, and concluding the bounds. As to the matching of the twelve sentences of freedom from obstruction, the Shu follows the text and makes twelve, while the Chao, in terms of opening and gathering, makes the ten penetrations. As to the number of the names of the disciplines, the eighty-fascicle text reads word for word twenty sentences, and Chengguan divides them into eleven, six, and three; the sixty-fascicle text reads word for word nineteen sentences, and Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, judges them to be twenty gates of pure discipline. What these several houses set up each has its own track; it is recorded, without judging which is higher.

The third is the line of the texts cited. In glossing the names of the time-divisions Chengguan examines the Jushe lun and sets up the measures of the kṣaṇa, the tatkṣaṇa, the lava, and the muhūrta, and the Yanyi chao rehearses its verses as well; in glossing the two words “time-divisions” he cites the statement of the Xiyu ji that five muhūrtas make one time, and further the divergent statement, following the Renwang jing, that nine hundred arisings and ceasings make one kṣaṇa; and in glossing the discipline of surpassing virtue he cites the four root offenses of the Piluzhena jing to match the seventh and eighth sentences of the sūtra text and the two sentences on being without harm and without turbidity. These few places are where the ancient worthies' way of reading the sūtra is most to be seen in this section—where the names and numbers are not clear, one returns to the treatises; where divergent statements stand together, both are kept.

As for the line of consciousness-only, the Cheng weishi lun and the Jieshenmi jing have nothing to do with this section; and although the words “well-abiding” are met with in the She dacheng lun and the Yogācārabhūmi, they are either proper names of the same wording in another place (the Yogācārabhūmi has the dragon king Well-Abiding and the tree Well-Abiding) or ordinary usage, in no case a citation and gloss of the monk Well-Abiding of this section, and so no chain of attachment is set up.

The text of one section is, in its first half, the marks, and in its latter half, the discipline. The marks are manifested as far as unspeakably unspeakable worlds, and the one who tells of them says of himself that what he knows is one gate only—the freedom from obstruction of the monk Well-Abiding stands upon that one sentence he says of himself.

To Begin: Why Sudhana Is Mindful of the Previous Dharma Before He Sets Out

After Sudhana left the monk Well-Abiding, the sūtra text does not at once write that he took to the road; it first writes a stretch of the workings of his mind: “At that time, the youth Sudhana was single-mindedly and rightly mindful of the dharma gate of the light of the Dharma, deeply believed in it and went toward entering it, was single-mindedly mindful of the Buddha, did not let the Three Jewels be cut off, and praised the nature of freedom from desire,” on down to “he pondered to the utmost the own-nature of the dharmas.”

Chengguan outlines this as the first section of ‘seeking in accord with the teaching,’ and judges how it opens and closes: “Ten sentences: the first is the general, that is, the dharma gate obtained before; from ‘deeply believed’ onward, all are the particular giving rise of contemplation and cultivation.” The meaning is this—the first sentence, “single-mindedly and rightly mindful of the dharma gate of the light of the Dharma,” is the general, telling what it is that is held in mind; and the nine sentences from “deeply believed in it and went toward entering it” onward are all the particular, telling how it is held in mind.

Fazang's Tanxuan ji, on the other hand, reads these ten sentences as five pairs: “Among the ten sentences, the first two sentences are mindfulness of what is obtained and what is possessed; the next two, from ‘rightly mindful of the Buddha’ onward, are mindfulness of what he returns to and what he leaves behind; the next two, from ‘mindful of the good friend’ onward, are mindfulness of what he seeks and whom he delivers; the next two, from ‘toward all’ onward, make clear the guarding against the practices of the afflictions; and the last two, from ‘wholly able’ onward, are the guarding against the practices of the lesser vehicle.” One house makes it one general and nine particulars, the other makes it two and two in pairs; the number and what they attach to are both different, and each is its own track.

A misunderstanding must be set right: Sudhana is not ‘taking the notes of the last lesson to the next lesson.’ What the sūtra text uses is “rightly mindful” and “deeply believed in it and went toward entering it”—it is to cultivate the previous gate of the Dharma truly into oneself, not to remember it. Brought down to the ground: this stretch is the common rule of all fifty-three visits—if one has not digested into one's own practice the Dharma conferred by the previous friend, then going to see the next one is only a change of scene.

The Six Groups of Mindfulness of the Previous Dharma: The Particular Giving Rise of Contemplation, One Group One Thing

Chengguan says that from “deeply believed” onward all is the particular giving rise of contemplation and cultivation, while Fazang matches the ten sentences into five pairs. Whichever track one takes, this stretch is not a string of descriptions—it is the six things Sudhana does before he sets out, and each of them can be examined one by one.

The first is “single-mindedly mindful of the Buddha, not letting the Three Jewels be cut off.” What is held in mind is the Buddha, and what is continued is the Three Jewels—being mindful of the Buddha is not merely fastening upon the name of one Buddha, it is letting the three, Buddha, Dharma, and Saṅgha, not be cut off upon oneself. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking mindfulness of the Buddha and the upholding of the Three Jewels to be two things, one inward in the mind and one outward in affairs. The sūtra text writes them as a single sentence: only in one who can hold them in mind are the Three Jewels not cut off. Brought down to the ground: in leaving one good friend to go and see the next, if the Three Jewels are cut off along that stretch of road, what is called seeking the Dharma is only walking.

The second is “praised the nature of freedom from desire.” To praise is to extol, and the nature of freedom from desire is the nature of being free of desire—what is praised is not a person who has cultivated well, but the nature of the thing itself. The previous friend, the monk Well-Abiding, wore the marks of one gone forth, while this friend is a layman among the shops of the marketplace; that Sudhana, at the moment of setting out, first praises the nature of freedom from desire is his setting apart the Dharma he studies from the marks of those he meets: freedom from desire is not attached to outward form, it is attached to nature.

The third is “mindful of the good friend, illumining the three times.” What is held in mind is the good friend, and the four words added are “illumining the three times”—it is not being mindful of one particular person, but being mindful that the matter of the good friend runs through past, present, and future. Brought down to the ground: to take the good friend for only the one before one's eyes, rejoicing when met and forgetting when parted, keeps that mindfulness within the present alone; what the sūtra text holds in mind is an illumining that runs through the three times.

The fourth is “held in memory the great vows, universally rescuing beings.” To hold in memory is not to forget, what is held is the great vows, and what is pointed to is the universal rescuing of beings. This sentence answers to the one before: the former is mindful of the one who can confer the Dharma, this holds in memory those who are to be delivered. One upward and one downward—only so is the giving rise of the mind entire.

The fifth is “did not cling to the conditioned.” The four before are all what is held in mind; this one is what is not clung to—conditioned dharmas, once made, have their marks, and where there are marks it is easy to cling. That the sūtra text places non-clinging to the conditioned immediately after the great vows is precisely a guarding against the great vows themselves becoming a mark that is clung to. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking non-clinging to the conditioned to mean not doing conditioned things. What the sūtra text tells of is not clinging, not not doing; to do and yet not cling—that is this sentence.

The sixth is “pondered to the utmost the own-nature of the dharmas.” Pondering is not thinking, it is contemplating; what is contemplated is the own-nature of the dharmas, and the words “to the utmost” are added—one does not stop halfway. The five before are the preparation of practice, this one the preparation of seeing; with seeing, practice is not blind, and with practice, seeing is not empty.

Taken together, the order of the six is plain: first establishing the root of what is held in mind (the Buddha and the Three Jewels), next setting right the nature that is praised (freedom from desire), next opening out the persons held in mind (the good friend through the three times), next raising the vow that is held in memory (universally rescuing beings), next removing the mark that is clung to (the conditioned), and last exhausting the principle that is contemplated (the own-nature of the dharmas). Brought down to the ground: these six need not wait for the setting out to be done—they are themselves what it looks like when the previous gate of the Dharma has truly been digested; only when the six can be held does the road become walkable.

“Wholly Able to Adorn and Purify All Worlds, and Toward the Assemblies and Places of Awakening of All the Buddhas His Mind Had Not the Least Clinging”: Being Mindful to the End Turns Out to Be Non-Clinging

Among the ten sentences of mindfulness of the previous Dharma, the last two are most worth pausing over: “wholly able to adorn and purify all worlds, and toward the assemblies and places of awakening of all the Buddhas his mind had not the least clinging.”

The first sentence is ability—to adorn and purify all worlds; the second is non-clinging—not clinging even to the assemblies and places of awakening of the Buddhas. Only when these two sentences are set together are they complete: able to adorn and purify, and not clinging to what is adorned and purified; able to go to the place of awakening, and not clinging to the place of awakening. If there were only the first sentence, it would be a heaping up of merit; if only the second, it would be an emptiness with nothing to do. A misunderstanding must be set right: reading “his mind had not the least clinging,” one takes it for a call to indifference; but the sūtra text goes straight on to write that he “in this way, stretch by stretch, journeyed south, and came to the city of Sovereignty, searching for Megha”—non-clinging is precisely the reason he can keep walking on.

“In This Way, Stretch by Stretch, He Journeyed South”: The Words of Seeking the Next Friend

The second section of seeking in accord with the teaching has only one sentence in the sūtra text: “In this way, stretch by stretch, he journeyed south, and came to the city of Sovereignty, searching for Megha.”

The words “stretch by stretch” are the fixed form of the fifty-three visits of this chapter—it is not arriving in a single step, but going stretch by stretch. The words “searching for” are also to be noticed: Sudhana is not introduced to him, he goes and finds him himself. Brought down to the ground: though the good friend is pointed out by the previous friend, the road must still be walked to its end by oneself; between having the direction pointed out and arriving in person there lies a stretch that no one can walk for another.

“Among the Shops of the Marketplace”: The Place Where the Dharma Is Told Is a Market

The first section of seeing, paying respect, and inquiring is the seeing. The sūtra text writes it with the utmost concreteness: “Then he saw that man among the shops of the marketplace, seated upon the lion seat for telling the Dharma, with an assembly of ten thousand persons together surrounding him, expounding the dharma gate of the adornment of the wheel of letters.”

Four things: the place is the shops of the marketplace—among the stalls of a market; the seat is the lion seat for telling the Dharma; the assembly is ten thousand persons; and what is told is the dharma gate of the adornment of the wheel of letters.

Li Tongxuan sets up a separate point upon this place alone, saying that Sudhana “saw the elder Megha upon the shops of the marketplace expounding the sūtra of the wheel of letters” precisely signifies that “the market of birth-and-death is clamorous and yet constantly still”: the clamor of the market signifies birth-and-death, and to sit at ease telling the Dharma within it signifies stillness within the clamor. This is Li Tongxuan's reading of what it signifies; it is not what the sūtra text says of itself.

A misunderstanding must be set right: taking it that a place of practice must be in the mountains and forests. This good friend is neither a monk nor in a monastery; he sits right in the marketplace and tells the Dharma—and what he tells is the most finely subtle teaching of the wheel of letters. Brought down to the ground: the place does not decide whether a Dharma is high or low; to be able to sit at ease and tell the Dharma in the noisiest of places is itself the proof of the Dharma being told.

“Holy One” and “I Have Already Given Rise, Before This”: Before Asking About the Dharma, Report Where You Stand

The section of the “respect” is extremely short: “At that time, the youth Sudhana bowed his head to his feet, circled him measureless times, and joined his palms before him”—bowing the head, circling, and joining the palms, three things.

Next comes the “inquiring.” Chengguan judges the inquiring: “Within it are two: first the stating of his own giving rise to the mind; and after that, from ‘yet I’ onward, the asking directly.” What Sudhana states first is not a question but where he himself stands: “Holy one! I have already given rise, before this, to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.”

This one sentence is the joint of this section—precisely because he first reported this sentence, Megha's determining is drawn out, and the whole stretch of coming down from the seat and bowing is drawn out. Brought down to the ground: before asking about the Dharma, say honestly where you are standing, and only then does the asking hit its mark; a question that hides oneself away cannot be caught by the one who answers.

The Twelve Questions (one) The Two General Sentences: Studying the Practice of a Bodhisattva, Cultivating the Path of a Bodhisattva

The asking directly comes to twelve sentences in all. Chengguan judges: “There are twelve sentences: the first two sentences are general, and the remaining ten are particular.” The two general sentences are: “Yet I still do not know: how is a bodhisattva to study the practice of a bodhisattva? How is he to cultivate the path of a bodhisattva?”

One is “study” and one is “cultivate”; one is “practice” and one is “path.” The difference between studying and cultivating is this: studying takes the model from without, cultivating accomplishes it within; and the difference between practice and path is this: practice is the work that is done, the path is the road by which one goes. The two sentences taken together are the whole question about the entire causal stage of a bodhisattva. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking these two sentences for a mere courteous opening. The ten sentences below them are all the detailed items of these two—ten particular questions, and every sentence is answering ‘what is to be studied, what is to be cultivated.’

The Twelve Questions (two) The Vertical Matching of the Ten Particulars: Chengguan Matches the Ten Questions to the Ten Grounds

For the ten particular questions Chengguan gives two readings: “The gloss runs both crosswise and lengthwise; the crosswise gloss can be known, and lengthwise they are matched to the ten grounds.” Crosswise means the ten sentences laid out level, each being one meaning; lengthwise means the ten sentences matched in order to the ten grounds. This lengthwise matching is Chengguan's outline; the sūtra text does not mark it of itself.

The first question, “How, while turning about among the various destinies of existence, is he constantly not to forget the mind of awakening?”—amid turning about in the six destinies, the mind of awakening is not lost. Chengguan matches it lengthwise as “one, because realizing the giving rise of the mind, therefore no retrogression.” The weight of the question lies in the words “turning about”: it is not guarding the mind in a pure place, it is not losing the mind among the various destinies of existence. Brought down to the ground: the place where the giving rise of the mind is tested has never been sitting in stillness, but the very realms where it is easiest to forget it.

The second question, “How is he to obtain a mind of equality, firm and unmoving?”—Chengguan matches it as “two, because of not transgressing by mistake.” A mind of equality is not the absence of the ability to distinguish; it is not moving oneself on account of the height or lowness of the object. The firmness and unmovingness are attached to the “mind,” not to the objective realm.

The third question, “How is he to gain a pure mind that nothing can ruin?”—Chengguan matches it as “three, because of obtaining meditative concentration.” “Ruin” is defeat and destruction coming from without; the reason the pure mind cannot be ruined is that it does not take its support from outward things.

The fourth question, “How is he to give rise to the power of great compassion, constantly without toil or weariness?”—Chengguan matches it as “four, because of vigor.” One must see clearly that what is asked about is the “power of great compassion,” not the mind of great compassion. Compassion is a mind; power is the mind that can last. The sūtra text itself points out where the difficulty lies: “constantly without toil or weariness”—the difficulty of compassion is not in giving rise to it, but in not wearying.

The fifth question, “How is he to enter the dhāraṇī and universally to obtain purity?”—Chengguan matches it as “five, because entering the worldly, therefore he must hold all together.” Dhāraṇī is holding all together, holding all dharmas together and not forgetting them. Chengguan attaches the reason why one must hold all together to “entering the worldly”: to enter the world and tell the Dharma according to what meets one, one must be able to hold measureless dharmas. This question answers exactly to the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī conferred in this section—what Sudhana asks about is precisely what Megha has obtained.

The sixth question, “How is he to give rise to the vast light of wisdom, leaving behind the dark obstructions upon all dharmas?”—Chengguan matches it as “six, because wisdom appears.” This question sets light against dark obstruction, and what is left behind is the darkness upon “all dharmas,” not the darkness upon some one dharma.

The seventh question, “How is he to be complete in the power of unobstructed understanding and eloquence, deciding and knowing all the storehouses of the most profound meaning?”—Chengguan matches it as “seven, because the twofold practice of the expedient and the real is the most profound meaning, and because he obtains the ground of the wisdom of observation, he is complete in eloquence.” Unobstructed understanding and eloquence are a pair: understanding is one's own penetration, eloquence is being able to tell it for others. Chengguan glosses “the most profound meaning” as the twofold practice of the expedient and the real—illumining the real principle and yet not obstructing the expedient setting-up; this is where the difficulty lies.

The eighth question, “How is he to obtain the power of right mindfulness, holding in memory all the differing wheels of the Dharma?”—Chengguan matches it as “eight, only the effortless is right mindfulness.” What is held in memory is the “differing wheels of the Dharma”: the Dharma is not of one flavor, it differs according to what meets it, and each must be held. And Chengguan points out that true right mindfulness is effortless—what must be deliberately raised up has not yet arrived.

The ninth question, “How is he to obtain the power of pure entering, universally expounding the dharmas among all the destinies?”—Chengguan matches it as “nine, because of the increase of power.” “Destinies” are the destinies of beings, and the “power of pure entering” is the power to enter purely into all the destinies without being defiled by the destinies. The first question above speaks of “turning about among the various destinies of existence” as not losing the mind; this question goes a step further—not only not losing it, but universally expounding the dharmas within them.

The tenth question, “How is he to obtain the power of wisdom, being able upon all dharmas decisively to distinguish their meaning?”—Chengguan matches it as “ten, because of the increase of wisdom.” It closes with “decisively to distinguish their meaning”: not an ambiguous understanding, but the ability to decide. The ten questions begin from the non-retrogression of the giving rise of the mind and end at the decisive distinguishing of meaning, and this is precisely one line running from the shallow into the deep.

A misunderstanding must be set right: reading these ten sentences as ten wishes laid side by side. Since Chengguan has given the lengthwise matching, he is saying that they have an order; and even if one does not take the lengthwise matching but takes the crosswise gloss, what the ten sentences ask about is all attached to one and the same thing—how a bodhisattva is to keep his mind within the world and put it to use.

The Determining: First Asking Whether He Has Truly Given Rise to the Mind

Megha's first words are not a telling of the Dharma but a question in return: “Son of good family! Have you already given rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi?” Sudhana answers: “Yes! I have already given rise, before this, to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.”

Chengguan outlines this as ‘the determining’—before conferring the Dharma, first determining the vessel of the Dharma. This one question and one answer on the surface repeat what Sudhana has just said, but in fact they turn that sentence from a statement about himself into a taking up of it face to face: to say it oneself is one thing, and to be asked face to face by a good friend and to answer “Yes” is another. Brought down to the ground: the giving rise of the mind must be able to stand being asked about.

Coming Down from the Seat and Bowing: The Reason and the Bounds of the Master Bowing to the Disciple

After the determining comes the most singular scene of this section: “Megha at once came down from the lion seat and, before Sudhana, cast his five limbs to the ground, and scattered golden and silver flowers and priceless jewels,” and made offering with powdered candana, every sort of robe, and incense and flowers.

The one who tells the Dharma walks down from the seat and performs the weightiest of bows to a youth who seeks the Dharma, and makes offerings to him. Chengguan explains the ground of this thing directly: “The reason the master bows to the disciple is that the mind of awakening is the cause of Buddhahood, and because it is able to bring forth all merits widely.”—what is bowed to is not Sudhana as a person, it is that mind of awakening upon him; because the mind of awakening is the cause of Buddhahood, all merits are brought forth from it.

Chengguan further cites a treatise as proof, saying that one who bows to the first giving rise of the mind is “like a man bowing to the first moon of the bright half, and not bowing to the full moon, because it is rare to appear, and because the full moon comes from this.” The first moon of the bright half is the slender crescent at the beginning of the month—not bowing to the moon already full but bowing to the first moon, first because the first moon is rare and hard to see, and second because the full moon comes precisely from the first moon. And he further cites: “The giving rise of the mind and the ultimate are two that are not different, and of these two minds the former is the harder.” The first mind given rise to and the mind of ultimate Buddhahood—as to their substance they are not two, yet that former single thought is the harder.

Here two things must be told apart. The two places Chengguan cites in the Shu are not of one kind: the former cites a treatise, the latter cites a sūtra. Chengguan's own Chao says this outright—first comes the direct gloss, that “he reveres the Dharma and holds the person in weight”; and the adducing of proof beneath it is twofold, the first citing a treatise and the second citing a sūtra, and the sūtra cited is the text of Kāśyapa's praising of the Buddha in fascicle thirty-seven of the Nirvāṇa. Only three sentences of it appear in the Shu; the Chao supplies its full text, where four more sentences follow: “Having first given rise to it, one is already a teacher of gods and men, surpassing the śrāvakas and the pratyekabuddhas; giving rise to the mind in this way passes beyond the three realms, and therefore it is called the utterly unsurpassed.” A misunderstanding must be set right: taking the four sentences “the giving rise of the mind and the ultimate are two that are not different” to be words of this sūtra. They are not—they are text of the Nirvāṇa, brought in by Chengguan to gloss this stretch; this sūtra has its own Chapter on the Merit of the First Giving Rise of the Mind, which tells this meaning at length, and that is another line. Brought down to the ground: in reading a commentary one must see clearly which sentence is the commentator's own word, which is a treatise he cites, and which is a sūtra he cites; the three do not weigh the same, and read together as one they turn the words of another sūtra into what this sūtra says of itself.

But this bow has its bounds. Chengguan at once adds a stretch: “Moreover, before the Dharma is told he is not yet settled as master, and when he comes to confer his own Dharma he returns to his own seat and speaks; thus he does not go against the honoring of the Dharma.”—at the time of the bowing the telling of the Dharma had not yet begun, and the standing of master and disciple was not yet settled; when the time came to confer his own gate of the Dharma, he returned to his own seat to tell it, and only so is there no going against ‘honoring the Dharma.’ The bow is a bow to the cause of Buddhahood within a person's mind, and telling the Dharma is telling the Dharma; the two things do not take each other away.

Chengguan further explains why the several friends before him did not do this: “The reason the good friends before did not do so is that for a monk to revere a layman is inconvenient in practice.” The three friends before—Cloud of Virtue, Ocean Cloud, and Well-Abiding—were all monks, and for a monk to perform this bow to a householder is inconvenient in practice—this is a matter of decorum, not of the height or lowness of virtue.

The words “honoring the Dharma” carry one further bound, which Chengguan states more plainly in the Chao. He first glosses the words of the Shu: for a master to bow to a disciple seems in sense to make himself light, and so he must wait until he has ascended the seat before telling the Dharma, and only so does he not go against the honoring of the Dharma—from which one sees that “only by ascending the seat and then telling” is the condition on which this bow can stand, not an optional afterword. He then cites the Nirvāṇa, fascicle six, as proof of the honoring of the Dharma: one who knows the Dharma, whether old or young, is to be made offering to, revered, and bowed to, just as the brahmans who serve fire, just as the second heaven serving Śakra; and beneath it the Buddha himself says that in the sūtras he told this under a covering aspect, not for those who study as śrāvakas but only for bodhisattvas. With this sentence Chengguan resolves the earlier difficulty that “for a monk to revere a layman is inconvenient in practice”: to say it is inconvenient is said with respect to the śrāvakas, so that the śrāvakas may not come to slight the Buddha-Dharma; if it be a bodhisattva, he never slights, he bows to all four assemblies, and this is what the honoring of the Dharma is. A misunderstanding must be set right: reading “for a monk to revere a layman is inconvenient in practice” as a general rule that monks stand high and laymen low. By the gloss of the Chao that is an expedient word said on the side of the śrāvakas, not the constant rule of bodhisattvas; and Megha's bow in this section stands precisely on that other side, where a bodhisattva never slights. Brought down to the ground: one and the same thing is inconvenient on the side of the śrāvakas and is simply one's own part on the side of the bodhisattvas—reading the word “inconvenient,” one must first ask to whom the sentence is spoken.

A misunderstanding must be set right: taking this stretch to be teaching that ‘a teacher ought to bow to his students.’ What the sūtra text and Chengguan both point to is not the height or lowness of person against person, but the bounds between mind and stage: toward the mind of awakening one ought to bow, toward the Dharma one ought to be reverent, and each of the two has its own time. Brought down to the ground: to see someone in whom the mind has newly arisen and to give rise to contempt is the first sickness this stretch breaks; to be bowed to by another and thereupon to think oneself high is the second.

Praising the Giving Rise of the Mind (one) The First Ten Sentences: Giving Rise to a Single Thought of the Mind, What Is It That Is Accomplished

After rising to his feet, Megha first marks the general: “It is good, it is good! Son of good family! You have actually been able to give rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.” Only after this comes the particular praising.

Chengguan judges the first section of the particular praising: “First there are ten sentences: the virtue of the cause is deep and vast, and when in the end this virtue is accomplished the merit goes back to the first giving rise; and that you are able to give rise to it—this is what is called rare and wondrous.”—the merits told of in these ten sentences appear utterly vast, and Chengguan points out the key: when these virtues are at last accomplished, the merit is to go back to that very first giving rise.

The ten sentences are: “then that is to let the lineage of all the Buddhas not be cut off, then that is to adorn and purify all Buddha-fields, then that is to ripen all beings, then that is to penetrate and know the nature of all dharmas, then that is to awaken to and understand the seeds of all karma,” and “then that is to fulfill all practices, then that is to let all great vows not be cut off, then that is to understand as it truly is the lineage of freedom from craving, then that is to be able clearly to see the differences of the three times, then that is to make faith and understanding forever firm.”

Look at the order of these ten sentences: first the lineage of the Buddhas, the Buddha-fields, and beings—three great matters directed outward; next the nature of dharmas and the seeds of karma—the principle and the phenomena that are penetrated; then the practices and the great vows—what is cultivated and what is vowed; last the lineage of freedom from craving, the clear seeing of the three times, and the firmness of faith and understanding—coming back to oneself. From outward to inward, from phenomena to mind.

Chengguan further points out the answering of its source: “Its marks are for the most part the same as in the Chapter on the Merit of the First Giving Rise of the Mind. Here too there is the profound, the straight, and the compassionate mind, which may be got at by the sense.” The virtue of giving rise to the mind has already been told at length in the Chapter on the Merit of the First Giving Rise of the Mind earlier in this sūtra, and here is the same meaning appearing again.

A misunderstanding must be set right: taking these ten sentences to describe only ‘what will be accomplished in the future.’ What the sūtra text uses is “then that is”—at the very moment of giving rise to the mind, the lineage of the Buddhas is already not cut off; and Chengguan judges these ten sentences thus: “the virtue of the cause is deep and vast; when that virtue is at last accomplished, the merit returns to the first giving rise.” The virtue is accomplished in the end, and the merit returns to the first giving rise. Brought down to the ground: these ten sentences are set before all those who doubt themselves and ask ‘does what I have done count as giving rise to the mind’—if it has truly been given rise to, the cause is already here; the final accomplishment of the ten virtues will return its merit to this one giving rise.

These same ten sentences Fazang reads along another track, and it is to be kept apart from Chengguan's. What Fazang has before him is the sixty, where most of the ten sentences close with the word ‘nature’: the nature of Buddhas, the nature of fields, the nature of beings, the nature of the Dharma as it truly is, the nature of karma, the nature of the bodhisattva practice, the nature of great vows, the nature of freedom from desire. With ten ‘natures’ standing there, nothing is easier than to read them as ten substances. Fazang turns it round in a single phrase: ‘nature’ here means cause; the mind of awakening is itself a dharma that is cause, and that is why all ten sentences say ‘nature.’

Having turned it round, he sets the ten in five pairs. The first two are the cause of the proper and the dependent recompense of Buddhahood—what they accomplish is the Buddha's own fruit and the world that holds it. The next two are the cause of those to be converted—what they accomplish is the deliverance of beings. The next two are the cause of the practice of karma—what they accomplish is one's own practice. The next two are the cause of vow and wisdom, and Fazang glosses their marks himself: the vow constantly accompanies existence, the wisdom is constantly free of desire—the one not leaving the world, the other not stained by it. The last two are the cause of the great fruit, which is to say awakening and nirvāṇa.

Here the two houses divide cleanly. Chengguan speaks of the two ends in time: the virtue is what is at last accomplished, and the merit goes back to the first giving rise. Fazang speaks of five things caused at once: one mind of awakening is at the same time the cause of the fruit of Buddhahood, the cause of beings, the cause of practice, the cause of vow and wisdom, and the cause of the great fruit. One answers ‘when is this virtue accomplished’; the other answers ‘of what is this mind the cause.’ Brought down to the ground: only both tracks together keep the reading straight—take Chengguan alone, and the giving rise of the mind is easily read as something that pays out in the future; take Fazang alone, and it is easily read as a list of causes and effects.

Praising the Giving Rise of the Mind (two) The Eleven Sentences of the Reverence and Guarding of the Ten Kings

The second section of eleven sentences Chengguan judges as “next, from ‘then that is to be by all’ onward is the reverence and guarding of the ten kings.”

The ten sentences are: “then that is to be upheld by all the Tathāgatas, then that is to be held in mind by all the Buddhas, then that is to be equal to all the bodhisattvas, then that is to be praised and delighted in by all the worthy and holy ones, then that is to be bowed to and called upon by all the Brahmā kings,” and “then that is to be made offering to by all the lords of the gods, then that is to be guarded by all the yakṣas, then that is to be attended and defended by all the rākṣasas, then that is to be welcomed by all the nāga kings, then that is to be sung of and praised by all the kiṃnara kings,” and the last sentence, “then that is to be extolled and rejoiced over by all the lords of the various worlds.”

The order too is deliberate: first the Tathāgatas, the Buddhas, the bodhisattvas, and the worthy and holy ones—the side of the holy ones; next the Brahmā kings, the lords of the gods, the yakṣas, the rākṣasas, the nāga kings, and the kiṃnara kings—the side of the eight classes of gods and nāgas; and last it gathers up all the kings with “extolled and rejoiced over by all the lords of the various worlds.” And the verbs differ one from another: of the Tathāgatas it is “upheld by,” of the Buddhas “held in mind by,” of the bodhisattvas “equal to,” of the worthy and holy ones “praised and delighted in by,” and only after these come the bowing and calling upon, the making offering, the guarding, the attending and defending, the welcoming, and the singing and praising. The higher up, the more inward (upholding, holding in mind); the further down, the more outwardly displayed (welcoming, singing).

Among them the sentence “then that is to be equal to all the bodhisattvas” must be looked at by itself: the other ten sentences are all about how others treat me, and this one alone tells of one's own relation to the bodhisattvas—the mind has only just been given rise to, and one is already upon the same plane with all the bodhisattvas. This is precisely one and the same matter as the reason for Megha's coming down from the seat and bowing.

A misunderstanding must be set right: reading these eleven sentences as protection that may be sought after giving rise to the mind. What the sūtra text tells of is the weight of the giving rise of the mind itself, not the terms of an exchange. Brought down to the ground: if one takes it as a reason for seeking protection and so gives rise to the mind, what is given rise to is not the mind praised in this stretch.

Praising the Giving Rise of the Mind (three) The One Sentence of Outward Benefit to Beings: Causing the Realms of Beings All to Obtain Peace and Ease

After the twenty-one sentences before it, the sūtra text closes with one sentence: “then that is to cause all the realms of beings wholly to obtain peace and ease.”

Chengguan judges this sentence as outward benefit to beings: “After that, from ‘then now all the realms of beings’ onward is outward benefit to beings.” The first ten sentences tell of the virtue of the giving rise of the mind, and the next eleven mostly tell of how the Buddhas and the kings treat one who has given rise to the mind (only the one sentence ‘then he is equal with all bodhisattvas’ tells of the relation between the one who has given rise to the mind and the bodhisattvas themselves), and this sentence turns direction—it now tells of how one who has given rise to the mind treats the realms of beings. The words “peace and ease” are where this whole stretch of praising comes to rest: after so much surpassing excellence has been told, at the last it goes back to beings obtaining peace.

The Eleven Sentences of “That Is to Say”: Taking the Words “Peace and Ease” Apart

The sentence above says “wholly obtain peace and ease,” and the sūtra text at once uses “that is to say” to open it out, eleven sentences in all, every sentence closing with “because.”

The first three sentences are the drawing out of suffering: “because it makes them leave behind the evil destinies, because it makes them come forth from the places of difficulty, because it cuts off the root of all poverty”—leaving the evil destinies behind is leaving the weightiest suffering, coming forth from the places of difficulty is leaving such a plight as the eight difficulties, where there is no door by which to seek the Dharma, and cutting off the root of poverty is not only the poverty of goods but the poverty of the roots of goodness.

The middle three sentences are the giving of happiness and the leading into the Dharma: “because it gives rise to the happiness of all gods and humans, because it lets them meet good friends and draw near to them, because it lets them hear the vast Dharma and hold it entire”—from happiness to meeting friends, and from meeting friends to hearing the Dharma and holding it entire.

The last five sentences tell purely of the path: “because it gives rise to the mind of awakening, because it purifies the mind of awakening, because it illumines the path of a bodhisattva, because it enters the wisdom of a bodhisattva, because it abides in the grounds of a bodhisattva”—giving rise, purifying, illumining, entering, abiding, five verbs, which are one complete order of the path: first giving rise to the mind of awakening, next making it pure, next illumining the path that is walked, next entering into the wisdom, and last abiding in the grounds.

One must see clearly the whole movement of these eleven sentences: beginning from leaving behind the evil destinies and ending at abiding in the grounds of a bodhisattva, it is pushed all the way from the coarsest suffering to the finest of stages. And its starting point is only that one person has given rise to the mind. Brought down to the ground: these eleven sentences may be asked of oneself sentence by sentence—what I call ‘for the sake of beings,’ does it stop at the level of the first three sentences, or does it reach as far as the last five?

Praising the Seeking of Friends: The Bodhisattva Is Hard to Meet, and One Who Sees a Bodhisattva Is Harder Still

After praising the giving rise of the mind, Megha turns to another topic: “Son of good family! You should know that what a bodhisattva does is exceedingly hard, hard to appear and hard to meet with, and those who see a bodhisattva are twice again as rare.”

Chengguan judges that this section has two senses: “In the second, the praising of the seeking of friends: because the bodhisattva is hard to meet with and yet he is able to seek and able to meet, one knows that Sudhana is a deep vessel of the Dharma. It also warns beforehand the mind that seeks friends, and so at the place of Liberation he passes twelve years without giving rise to weariness.”—one sense is the praising of Sudhana as able to seek and able to meet, the other is the warning him beforehand that the mind which seeks friends must be able to bear; and Chengguan points out that Sudhana's later passing of twelve years at the place of Liberation without giving rise to weariness is precisely the fulfilling of this warning.

The sentence “those who see a bodhisattva are twice again as rare” must be looked at closely: what is hard is not that bodhisattvas are few, but that those who can recognize a bodhisattva are few. Above, ten thousand persons surrounded him in the marketplace, and those who saw Megha were not Sudhana alone, yet only Sudhana was able to see him with a mind seeking the way. Brought down to the ground: good friends are often right before one's eyes and are missed, and the reason for the missing lies mostly not in the other's being hard to meet, but in one's own not looking with a mind that seeks the Dharma.

The Four Sentences Praising the Dharma of a Bodhisattva: Support and Refuge · Rescue and Relief · Place to Rely Upon · Saving Protection

Megha next tells directly what a bodhisattva is. First are four sentences of Dharma: “The bodhisattva is for all beings a support and a refuge, because he raises them up and brings them to accomplishment; he is for all beings a rescue and a relief, because he draws out their every suffering and hardship,” and “he is for all beings a place to rely upon, because he guards and protects the world; he is for all beings a saving protection, because he lets them be free of dread.”

Each of the four sentences has what it answers to: the support and refuge answers to beings' having nothing to rely upon (and so it says raising them up and bringing them to accomplishment); the rescue and relief answers to beings' suffering and hardship (and so it says drawing out their every suffering and hardship); the place to rely upon answers to beings' having no place to return to (and so it says guarding and protecting the world); the saving protection answers to beings' dread (and so it says letting them be free of dread).

The form of all four sentences is ‘for all beings such-and-such, because such-and-such’—the first half telling what the bodhisattva does for beings, the second half telling how he can be so. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking these four words to be a heaping up of synonyms. What the four cure are four different lacks—having nothing to rely upon, having suffering, having no place to return to, having dread—and they cannot stand for one another.

The Thirteen Similes: Thirteen Faces of the Bodhisattva's Working

After the four sentences of Dharma come the thirteen similes. Chengguan attaches the thirteen similes back to the four sentences of Dharma above: “There are thirteen similes: the first two liken the support and refuge, the next four liken the rescue and relief, the next, the sovereign, likens the place to rely upon, and the rest liken the saving protection.”

The thirteen similes, counted word by word, are: the wind-wheel, the great earth, the great ocean, the pure sun, Sumeru, the bright moon, the fierce general, the sovereign lord, the fierce fire, the great cloud, timely rain, the ship's master, and the bridge—thirteen, neither more nor less.

The first two similes carry on “support and refuge.” “The bodhisattva is like the wind-wheel, because it upholds the various worlds and does not let them fall down into the evil destinies”—the wind-wheel is the wheel that upholds a world, and it uses the one word “uphold”; “like the great earth, because it makes the roots of goodness of beings increase and grow”—the great earth does not uphold but brings forth, and it uses the words “increase and grow.” One upholding and one growing are precisely the two faces of the four words “raises them up and brings them to accomplishment.”

The next four similes carry on “rescue and relief.” “Like the great ocean, because his merit is full and has no exhausting” is measure; “like the pure sun, because the light of his wisdom shines everywhere” is illumining; “like Sumeru, because his roots of goodness stand high above all” is height; “like the bright moon, because the light of his wisdom appears” is appearing. Sun and moon are alike light, and yet what is taken from them differs: from the sun is taken the pervasiveness of shining everywhere, from the moon the coolness of appearing—one and the same wisdom, which in the place of blazing is the sun and in the place of cool clarity is the moon.

Below these, “like a fierce general, because he crushes and subdues the armies of Māra” and “like a sovereign lord, because within the city of the Buddha's Dharma he obtains sovereignty”: one is able to make war, one is able to govern. Chengguan attaches the simile of the sovereign to the “place to rely upon”—only when there is a lord within the city is it a place that can be relied upon.

The sentence “like a fierce fire, because it burns up entirely the mind of self-love in beings” is the sharpest. What is burned is not the branches and leaves of the afflictions, it is the “mind of self-love”—that single thought of loving oneself, at the root. The sūtra text uses “burns up entirely,” not diminishes.

The last four similes are rain and crossing over. “Like a great cloud, because it sends down measureless and wondrous rain of the Dharma” is being able to send down; “like timely rain, because it makes the sprouts of every root of faith increase and grow” is being timely—rain must fall at the right time for sprouts to grow, and so the one word “timely” is specially marked; “like a ship's master, because he points out and leads to the fords and crossings of the ocean of the Dharma” is knowing the ford; “like a bridge, because it lets them cross over the ocean of birth-and-death” is being oneself the crossing. The ship's master and the bridge are a pair: one is a person, one is a thing; one points out the road, one bears the weight.

A misunderstanding must be set right: reading the thirteen similes as thirteen praises. Beneath every simile there is attached a “because,” telling of the bodhisattva's concrete working; the thirteen similes taken together are a list of the bodhisattva's working, not adjectives. Brought down to the ground: one may hold these thirteen sentences up against oneself—toward beings today, am I upholding, growing, illumining, or none of them at all?

Concluding the Praise and Displaying Spiritual Power: Light Comes Forth from the Gate of the Face

The praising done, the sūtra text turns into the conferring of the Dharma. The first section is the displaying of spiritual power: “When Megha had praised Sudhana in this way and had made all the bodhisattvas rejoice, he sent forth from the gate of his face every sort of light, which shone everywhere throughout the three-thousandfold great-thousand world-system.”

Chengguan judges that the conferring of the Dharma has two sections: “Second, from ‘Megha having praised in this way’ onward is the conferring of his own dharma gate, and within it are two: first the displaying of spiritual power to benefit things, causing them to see it with their own eyes; and after that, from ‘Megha thereupon ascended again’ onward, ascending the seat and telling and conferring, causing them to hear it.”—first sending forth light so that people see, and after that ascending the seat so that they hear. One for the eye and one for the ear, these are the two gates of conferring the Dharma.

It should be noticed that the light comes forth from the “gate of the face,” not from the crown or the feet; and what it shines upon is the three-thousandfold great-thousand world-system, not only the ten thousand persons then present.

The Displaying of Spiritual Power Gathers and Transforms: Those Who Come Are the Nāgas and Spirits On Up to the Brahmā Gods

After the light had shone, “the beings within it, having met with this light, the nāgas and the spirits and the rest, on up to the Brahmā gods, all came to the place of Megha. Megha, the great being, then by skillful means opened up, expounded, distinguished, and explained the dharma gate of the adornment of the chapter on the wheel of letters.”

Four verbs are to be looked at separately: opening up is lifting the cover, expounding is laying it out, distinguishing is setting it in order, explaining is resolving doubts—a gate of the Dharma requires these four procedures before it can be handed over. And what is used is the words “skillful means”: those addressed are nāgas, spirits, and Brahmā gods, not humans, and so skillful means must be used.

The name of the dharma gate that appears here is “the dharma gate of the adornment of the chapter on the wheel of letters,” while what was told in the marketplace above was “the dharma gate of the adornment of the wheel of letters”—one and the same gate, and yet the letter of the sūtra text differs in the two places; it is recorded as it stands, unevened.

The Benefit Obtained: Hearing the Dharma and Obtaining Non-Retrogression

“Those beings, having heard this Dharma, all obtained non-retrogression in anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.”

One sentence, and yet it is the outcome of the whole stretch of the displaying of spiritual power. The cause and effect must be seen clearly: it is not that seeing the light obtains non-retrogression, it is that “having heard this Dharma” obtains non-retrogression. The light is only the skillful means for gathering the assembly; the benefit lies in the Dharma. Brought down to the ground: responses, light, and states of realm and the like are all doors for drawing people in, and a door is not the house; to stop at the doorway and not go in is to have gained nothing.

Ascending Again to His Own Seat: What the Wondrous-Sound Dhāraṇī Is

“Megha thereupon ascended again to his own former seat and told Sudhana, saying, ‘Son of good family! I have already obtained the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī.’”—before, he came down from the seat for the sake of bowing to the mind of awakening; now he returns to the seat for the sake of conferring the Dharma, and this is precisely what Chengguan calls “when he comes to confer his own Dharma he returns to his own seat and speaks; thus he does not go against the honoring of the Dharma.”

The working he has obtained is: “able to distinguish and know the speech of the gods within the three-thousandfold great-thousand world-system, and the speech of the nāgas, yakṣas, gandharvas, asuras, garuḍas, kiṃnaras, mahoragas, humans and nonhumans, and of all the Brahmā gods.”—penetrating the speech of every class.

Chengguan glosses the substance of this gate, and points out that it is one Dharma with the wheel of letters told in the marketplace: “‘The wondrous-sound dhāraṇī’ marks the name, and from ‘able to distinguish’ onward displays the working. This holding of the wondrous sound is the very gate of the wheel of letters above. Now the letters are the forty-two letters, and the sounds are the fourteen sounds—that is, ai, a, i, ī and the rest; and because the fourteen sounds enter everywhere into the letters, the letters that come forth are without end.”—the letters are forty-two, the sounds are fourteen; the fourteen sounds enter everywhere into the letters, and so the letters that come forth are without end; and because the letters that come forth are without end, there is no speech that cannot be penetrated. Chengguan further concludes, “The two places raise it up by turns, and in principle they truly complete each other.” The “wheel of letters” of the marketplace and the “wondrous sound” upon the seat are two names of one and the same gate of the Dharma.

Chengguan further explains why this stage tells of the dharma of the wheel of letters: “The reason it is set forth next after the one before is that the unobstructed liberation before was the light of the wisdom of the markless, and now, about to enter the worldly, both existence and nonexistence are kept together, and letters are relied upon to signify the meaning.” What the previous friend, the monk Well-Abiding, obtained was the markless light of wisdom; this stage is about to enter the worldly and deliver beings, and so it must borrow the marks of letters to signify the meaning. And the sentence “because he is born within the holy teaching, it is fitting that he hold the letters” fastens exactly upon the name of “the abode of noble birth”—born within the house of the Buddha, and so it is fitting that he hold the letters of the teaching.

A misunderstanding must be set right: taking the penetrating of all speech to be a kind of ability like a spiritual power. According to Chengguan's gloss, its root lies in the exhausting of letters and sounds; it is the natural working of one gate of the Dharma, not a separately established uncommon faculty. Brought down to the ground: the barrier of language is commonly taken as an outward condition, and this gate points out that the root of the barrier is in one's own not having exhausted the meaning of the letters.

The Teaching of the Wheel of Letters: The Three Senses of the Wheel, the Letter A, and the Five Wheels

What Megha tells in the marketplace is the dharma gate of the adornment of the wheel of letters, and what he confers after ascending again to the seat is the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī—Chengguan has already said that the two are one Dharma under two names. What then does the word “wheel” mean? Chengguan first records the three senses that Xianshou cites from Tripiṭaka Master Rizhao: “First, with respect to the mark of the letters: the Laṅkāvatāra says, ‘the wheel of letters is perfect, like the footprint of an elephant,’ and the like. Second, with respect to what is set forth: it exhausts the principle and is round and complete, like the fullness of a wheel. Third, with respect to its working: that is, the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī, which has the sense of handing on and the sense of extinguishing delusion, like a wheel of the Dharma.”

The three senses must be told apart; they are not three wheels but three faces of one wheel. The mark of the letters is the form: the footprint of an elephant serves as a simile because it is perfect and complete, one impress in which the whole body appears. What is set forth is the meaning: the principle set forth is exhausted and complete, like a wheel that is full and not lacking—not roundness of form but roundness of meaning. The working is the capacity: it can both hand on and extinguish delusion, and so it is said to be like a wheel of the Dharma. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking the “wheel of letters” for an arrangement of shapes. By the three senses, form is only the first; if one takes the form and not what is set forth and not the working, the wheel of letters is only a diagram and not a gate of the Dharma. Brought down to the ground: holding one sentence of the teaching in hand, one may examine it upon these three faces—is its form complete, is its meaning round, can it truly hand on and extinguish delusion? Only when all three are furnished is it a wheel.

Having recorded the three senses, Chengguan appraises them, saying “this gloss is already fine,” and then cites in support the Chapter on the Wheel of Letters of the Piluzhena jing. What is cited has three layers. The first is the general telling: one who abides in this dharma gate of the wheel of letters, “from the first giving rise of the wondrous mind of awakening all the way to the attaining of Buddhahood, in all that lies between, accomplishes every sort of work of benefiting himself and benefiting others”—from the first giving rise of the mind to Buddhahood, all the work of self-benefit and benefit of others lies within this one gate. The second layer is the letter A: the first letter A is the mind of awakening itself; and one who contemplates this letter and accords with it “is the same as the substance of the Dharma body of Vairocana.” The text cited further takes the peacock's tail for a simile: “this wheel of the letter A is like the wheel of a peacock's tail, ringed about with light, and the practitioner abiding within it is abiding in the stage of a Buddha.” When a peacock spreads its tail the feathers form a wheel ringed about with light, and at the middle is that single point; the letter A stands in the middle with the other letters circling it, and where the practitioner abides is that very middle. What this simile takes is to be noticed: not the splendor, but the relation of a middle and what rings it.

The third layer is the three divisions and the five wheels. The three letters A, Sa, and Va gather up the three divisions entire: the letter A belongs to the Tathāgata division, the letter Sa to the Lotus division, and the letter Va to the Vajra division; and within any one division there are five letters. As for what is called a wheel of letters, it is that from this there is a turning that gives birth to the several wheels of letters, and what is taken is the sense of “giving birth.” Taking the letter A for an example: from A, this letter of awakening, four letters are born by turning. The first is the wheel of cultivating practice—having given rise to the mind, one must cultivate the practices. The second is the wheel of accomplishing awakening—having cultivated the practices, one must realize awakening. The third is the wheel of the great stillness of nirvāṇa, which is where awakening arrives. The fourth is the wheel of skillful means. The letter A stands in the middle with the four letters circling it, turning rightward in order from below, and this too is like the mark of a wheel. One is raised as an example, and the rest of the letters follow the same pattern.

These five stations—giving rise to the mind, cultivating practice, accomplishing awakening, nirvāṇa, and skillful means—are precisely one complete order of the path, and it is written as a wheel and not as a line. This is to be seen clearly: a line has a beginning and an end, while a wheel turns and begins again; arriving at nirvāṇa is not a stopping, for beneath it there is still the wheel of skillful means, which is the returning from the place of realization to the delivering of beings. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking the wheel of letters for an arrangement of secret syllables having nothing to do with the gates of practice. By the text cited, what the wheel of letters signifies is exactly the whole course from the giving rise of the mind to skillful means; the letters are what it is lodged in, the practice is what is signified. And so Chengguan says below that the reason this stage must tell of the wheel of letters is that what the previous friend obtained was the light of markless wisdom, while this stage is about to enter the worldly, and so must lodge itself in letters in order to signify the meaning. And the sentence “the manifold setting out of the stations is why it is called adornment” is the closing: what is set out is not decoration but stations—each letter has its own station, and only when the stations are fixed is there a wheel, and only when there is a wheel is it named an adornment.

Brought down to the ground: this gate of the Dharma looks the most abstruse, and yet what it teaches is a thing utterly plain—to see one's own whole road as a wheel: having given rise to the mind one must cultivate, having cultivated one must realize, and having realized one cannot stop upon the realization, but must have the skillful means to come back. Let any one of the letters fall empty, and the wheel will not turn.

Setting Forth the Example of What Is Pervaded: As It Is with One Great-Thousand, So Are All Worlds

“And just as it is with this three-thousandfold great-thousand world-system, so also with numberless worlds of the ten directions on up to unspeakably unspeakable worlds—all of them are likewise.”

One sentence setting forth the example. If the working obtained were only within one great-thousand, it would still be a bounded Dharma; this sentence pushes it out to unspeakably unspeakable worlds. It should be noticed that the way the sūtra text pushes it is “all of them are likewise”—it is not more and larger, it is the universality of one and the same thing.

Humbling Himself: I Know Only This One Gate

“Son of good family! I know only this bodhisattva's dharma gate of the light of the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī.”

Chengguan judges that ‘humbling himself and deferring to the superior’ has two sections, the first being the humbling of himself and the concluding of what came before: “Fourth, from ‘son of good family, I know only’ onward is humbling himself and deferring to the superior, and within it are two: first, humbling himself and concluding what came before. It says ‘light’ because wisdom mirrors the wondrous sound.”—here the name of the dharma gate has the two words “light” added, and Chengguan glosses this as illumining the wondrous sound with the mirror of wisdom, and therefore it is named light.

This one sentence is the conclusion of the humbling of himself in this section: after Megha has finished conferring his own Dharma, he says that he knows only this one gate. A misunderstanding must be set right: reading it as a courtesy of modesty. It is a plain statement of the stage: the friends assigned to the several stages each obtain one gate, and none of them takes himself for the whole; and it is precisely because he does not take himself for the whole that there is the next stretch of pointing to the next friend.

The Fourteen Sentences of Deferring to the Superior: The Oceans That the Bodhisattvas Enter

After humbling himself comes the deferring to the superior. Chengguan judges: “Separately there are fourteen sentences: the first four can be known; the fifth is because it sets forth the profound and secret; the sixth because it tells without remainder; the seventh because the Dharma fuses the dharmas of time; the eighth because it is higher; the ninth because it is highest among the high; the next three can be known; the thirteenth and fourteenth are what he obtained above.”

The first four sentences are: “able universally to enter the ocean of every sort of notion of all beings, the ocean of every sort of designation, the ocean of every sort of name, the ocean of every sort of speech”—notion, designation, name, and speech, from inward to outward: first the notions within the minds of beings, next the designations set up, next names, and last speech. These four are the four layers of name and word.

The middle seven sentences are the oceans of dharma-phrases: “expounding the ocean of all profound and secret dharma-phrases, expounding the ocean of all ultimate dharma-phrases, expounding the ocean of dharma-phrases wherein within one object there are all the objects of the three times, expounding the ocean of higher dharma-phrases, expounding the ocean of higher-than-higher dharma-phrases, expounding the ocean of differing dharma-phrases, expounding the ocean of all differing dharma-phrases.” Chengguan attaches their senses one by one: the fifth sets forth the profound and secret, the sixth tells without remainder, the seventh is the Dharma fusing the dharmas of time—within one object are gathered the objects of the three times, which is the mutual fusion of dharma and time; the eighth and the ninth are the higher and the highest among the high; and below these Chengguan says “the next three can be known”—that is, the tenth, the ocean of differing dharma-phrases, the eleventh, the ocean of all differing dharma-phrases, and the twelfth, the ocean of spells and arts, three sentences.

As for the “profound and secret” of the fifth sentence, in the Chao Chengguan opens it further into three senses: the first “sets forth principle and wisdom, the real in the very phenomenon,” that is, seeing the real directly upon the mark of the phenomenon, as the nirvāṇa of the three virtues is called the secret storehouse; the second is “because of the hidden intent,” the teller pointing at something else that does not lie on the surface of the words; the third is “because it is furnished with the three secrets.” The three are not three kinds of the profound and secret, but three doors into one and the same thing—the first told from the principle set forth, the second from the intent of the one who tells, the third from the secrecy of the three karmas of body, speech, and mind. A misunderstanding must be set right: taking “profound and secret” to mean merely “very deep.” By what the Chao opens, the profound is the depth of the principle and the secret is the hiddenness of the intent and the secrecy of the three karmas; profound without secret is only what is hard to understand, secret without profound is only a riddle, and only the two together make the sense of this sentence. Brought down to the ground: when a sentence of the teaching feels “deep,” one more question must be asked—is it deep in principle, or secret in intent? That very question is the reason this sentence stands fifth among the fourteen sentences of deferring to the superior.

The last three sentences are: “able universally to enter the ocean of the spells and arts of all the worlds, the wheel of the adornment of all sounds, the utmost bound of all the differing wheels of letters.” Chengguan says “the thirteenth and fourteenth are what he obtained above”—the wheel of the adornment of sounds and the utmost bound of the differing wheels of letters are precisely the wondrous sound and the wheel of letters that Megha himself has obtained; and he puts what he himself has obtained under the name of “the bodhisattvas, the great beings,” saying that he cannot know it and cannot tell it.

Upon the last word, “utmost bound,” Chengguan makes a special point: “And as for saying ‘utmost bound,’ it is because it exhausts principle and exhausts nature.” It is not the bound of a boundary, it is the bound of exhausting.

The deferring to the superior closes with one question: “Merits such as these, how could I now know them, how could I tell them?”—knowing and telling stand together within the one question: the merits of the bodhisattvas are beyond what he can fully know, and beyond what he can fully tell. Brought down to the ground: when a person is willing to say that his own one gate is one sentence among the endless merits of the bodhisattvas, this humbling is the true one; to tell of what one has obtained as if it were the whole is what this stretch breaks.

Pointing to the Next Friend: Journeying South to Abiding Grove, the Elder Liberation

“Son of good family! Journeying south from here, there is a village named Abiding Grove; there is an elder there named Liberation.”

Chengguan glosses even the names of the next friend beforehand: “As for Abiding Grove, it is the abode of fully endowed skillful means, because the many virtues are established.”—the name Abiding Grove signifies the stage assigned to the next friend; and “because he is advanced in years and ripe in virtue, and in his affairs is elder to others, he is called an elder. Because within his own body there appear boundless realms of the Buddhas and the working of his concentration is sovereign, he is named Liberation.” The title of elder comes from years and virtue, and the name Liberation comes from boundless realms of the Buddhas appearing within his body and the sovereignty of the working of his concentration.

The questions he is charged with are four sentences: “Go to him and ask: how is a bodhisattva to cultivate the practice of a bodhisattva? How is a bodhisattva to accomplish the practice of a bodhisattva? How is a bodhisattva to gather the practice of a bodhisattva? How is a bodhisattva to ponder the practice of a bodhisattva?”—cultivate, accomplish, gather, and ponder, four words. It is to be noticed that these four questions differ from the twelve sentences Sudhana himself asked in this section: what Sudhana asked in this section was “study the practice of a bodhisattva” and “cultivate the path of a bodhisattva,” whereas what Megha teaches him to ask is to cultivate, to accomplish, to gather, and to ponder. That the previous friend settles the questions for the next friend is the fixed form of this chapter; and that the questions are replaced by finer ones is the advance of the stage.

Cherishing His Virtue, Bowing, and Taking Leave: The Reason for the Weeping and Sobbing

The last stretch: “At that time, the youth Sudhana, on account of the good friend, gave rise deeply to reverence toward the dharma of all-knowing wisdom, deeply planted pure faith, and deeply increased his own benefit; he bowed to the feet of Megha, wept and sobbed, circled him measureless times, cherished and gazed up at him, then took his leave, withdrew, and went on.”

The three sentences of the first half tell what was obtained: reverence, pure faith, and increase, and all three are attached to “on account of the good friend”—they are not given rise to by one's own power, they are given rise to on account of the good friend. The five things of the second half tell the bowing and the taking leave: bowing to the feet, weeping, circling, gazing up, and taking leave and going.

The four words “wept and sobbed” must be explained. He has obtained the Dharma; why then the sorrow? This is not the sorrow of disappointment; it is the weight of kindness and the parting, both in one place. Brought down to the ground: this section opens with a good friend bowing down to one who seeks the Dharma, and closes with one who seeks the Dharma weeping before a good friend—one sūtra writes both of the two utmost extremes between master and disciple into one and the same stretch, and what is conferred in between is no more than one gate of letters and sounds. That the Dharma can be handed on is because these two minds at the two ends cannot lack either one.

Lineage

The stream that this section opens below it lies not in the treatises, but along two lines, the line of the name and the line of the stage.

The first is the line of the name. As for the name of this friend, the eighty-fascicle text reads “Megha,” and Fazang's Tanxuan ji reads “Mijia” and glosses it saying, “As for Mijia, this is rendered by the name Cloud, and it is so named because he is able to pour down the rain of the Dharma and moisten and benefit beings.” Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang, in its list of the names of the good friends (forty-six entries in the original table), reads in its main text “the fifth is named Megha, the good physician”—the name is the same as in the eighty-fascicle text; “the good physician” is likewise main text and not a note, the inline note under the name being 〔in this land the name is Many Clouds〕 and the inline note under “the good physician” being 〔one who spells medicines, that is, one who tells of medicines〕, and the appellation “the good physician” is taken from the sixty-fascicle text. In the sixty-fascicle text this friend is throughout called the good physician, and Fazang further records the name of his kind: “As for this good physician, in the text from India he is named Dabiduo.” The two translations and the two commentaries each have their own form of the name, and they are recorded together without judgment. The name of the dharma gate conferred also differs: the eighty-fascicle text reads the wondrous-sound dhāraṇī, and the sixty-fascicle text reads the dharma gate wherein what is spoken is not false—and the third of the three senses of the wheel of letters recorded by Fazang, the sense in terms of function, is stated according to the name in the sixty-fascicle text.

The second is the line of the stage. This friend is assigned to the abode of noble birth, and this judgment comes from the matching of stages by the ancient worthies; the sūtra text does not mark it of itself. Fazang attaches what this stage signifies to the names of the land and the city: “It also signifies that in this stage the lineage is noble and one is born in the house of the Buddha, and therefore the land is named Sovereignty.” And he glosses the city name Spell-Medicine, saying, “Telling the dharma of the wheel of letters breaks the remaining afflictions, as medicine cures the remaining sicknesses,” running the physician and the medicine throughout this stage. Li Tongxuan sets up another track, attaching this stage to “making clear the countering of the rules of the world, and the obstruction of unfreedom in the clamor of the afflictions of birth-and-death, so as to make one free,” and taking the telling of the Dharma in the marketplace to signify that “the market of birth-and-death is clamorous and yet constantly still,” and one letter containing endless letters and phrases to signify that it is “like the jeweled net of Śakra, mutually making conditioned arising, reflecting through layer upon layer.” One house reads it from the nobility of the lineage, the other from the countering of the world; each is its own track, and they are recorded without judging which is higher.

Li Tongxuan does not speak of host and companion as a mere likeness. Earlier the jeweled net reflecting layer upon layer was given as a likeness; but beneath the likeness he gives his own reason, and the reason has to be read together with it if it is to stand. He first sets up a pair: when it is told that the dharmas of the world are not, then ‘the absence of names’ is taken as host and all the dharmas beyond the world as its adornment; when it is told that the dharmas beyond the world are not, then all that is of the world is taken as the adornment instead. Host and companion are not fixed; they change places with what is being told—and so he goes on to say that ‘thus they are host and companion to one another, adornment to one another.’

Why they can change places is given in the sentence that follows: ‘being and non-being, arisen through conditions, are alike without own-nature.’ Being and non-being are both arisen through conditions, and what arises through conditions has no fixed substance of its own; only because there is no fixed substance can they be host and companion to one another. Li Tongxuan pushes this absence of own-nature into three places at once: beings are without own-nature, names are without own-nature, sounds of speech are without own-nature—and so one sound can tell of measureless names, while measureless names and letters are always one letter; names have of themselves no nature or mark of that which divides and that which is divided, and therefore they do not obstruct.

Pushed to the end, it comes out on the side of the telling. Just because sound, name, and beings are all without own-nature, one can speak of ‘the sound that is no sound, the name that is no name, the telling that is no telling’—since there is no real teller and no real receiver, the telling of the Dharma is not obstructed by the telling, and it follows the kinds of sound of beings in the six destinies, causing each to rejoice. Li Tongxuan himself gathers the whole string into one sentence: within a single letter the sense of many letters is contained throughout, and they are host and companion to one another, and yet each does not know the other, there being no ‘that’ and no ‘this.’

A misunderstanding must be set right: reading ‘host and companion to one another’ as a cleverness of arrangement. By Li Tongxuan's reason, what lets host and companion change places is not a clever arrangement but the absence of own-nature in those three places; if names had own-nature, one letter would be only one letter, could not contain many, and there would be no host and companion to speak of. Brought down to the ground: this stretch is the reason for the name of the dharma gate in this section—which is why this gate is called wondrous sound, and not many sounds.

At the place of his direct gloss in the Chapter on Entering the Dharma Realm, Li Tongxuan has a separate stretch glossing this section, and his gloss forms yet another track of its own beside the two houses before. As for the name, he not only glosses it but glosses it most finely: “Megha, this means Able to Subdue”—what is subdued is “wrong views and heterodox doctrines,” and the reason he is able to subdue them is that “his world-transcending wisdom is already constantly present and his worldly wisdom already fully possessed, the twofold wisdom of the real and the conventional being already complete.” The name of this friend Fazang attaches to “Cloud”; Li Tongxuan attaches it first to “Able to Subdue” and then keeps the other form alongside, “he is also named Cloud.” As for the city named Sovereignty, neither does he take Fazang's gloss upon the city of Spell-Medicine, but attaches it to “in the wisdom of the meaning of the names and words of the world he is sovereign”—which fastens exactly upon the letters and the sounds conferred in this section. As for the coming down from the seat and bowing, the reason he gives also differs from Chengguan's: Chengguan attaches it to “the mind of awakening is the cause of Buddhahood,” while Li Tongxuan attaches it to the order of the two wisdoms, saying that Megha's reverence “signifies that the differentiating wisdom of the conventional truth reveres the root wisdom of the real truth, because the conventional wisdom arises from within the root wisdom.” And that this stage is matched to the perfection of vigor, and that a layman rather than a monk is the mark of it, also come from his hand: “The three good friends before make clear world-transcending wisdom, and three monks are the mark of it. These two, Megha and the elder Liberation, make clear liberation while dwelling in the world, and so a layman is again the mark of it.” One house reads it from the cause of Buddhahood, one from the two wisdoms, one from the perfection and the standing of the person; each is its own track, recorded here without judging which is higher.

As for the dividing of the outline, Chengguan opens six parts, Fazang upon the sixty-fascicle text opens five parts, and Zhiyan upon the sixty-fascicle text opens three parts and beneath entering in accord with the teaching sets up seven further sections. As for how the ten sentences of mindfulness of the previous Dharma open and close, Chengguan makes it one general and nine particulars, and Fazang makes it two and two in five pairs. The number obtained and what they attach to both differ, and all are established sayings of the ancient worthies.

As for the three texts Chengguan cites in glossing this stretch—the Fajie wu chabie lun, cited in glossing the bowing to one who has first given rise to the mind; the Laṅkāvatāra, cited in glossing the wheel of letters as like the footprint of an elephant; and the chapter on the wheel of letters of the Piluzhena jing, cited in glossing the wheel of the letter a and the five letters of the three divisions—all are cited at second hand by Chengguan, and the chain of attachment of this section lies only within this citing at second hand. As for the Shidi jing lun and the four texts, the Huayan jing zhigui, the Huayan yisheng jiaoyi fenqi zhang, the Huayan yisheng shixuan men, and the Huayan fajie xuanjing, none of them has any text bearing the name or the stage of this section.

Beyond what is cited at second hand there lies one further layer: Chengguan's own Yanyi chao, which glosses the text of the Shu upon this stretch sentence by sentence, is the Shu's own gloss upon itself and the stock for reading the Shu of this section. Besides the three texts, the Chao cites two further places in the Nirvāṇa—the verse at Kāśyapa's praising of the Buddha in fascicle thirty-seven, which is the source of the “giving rise of the mind and the ultimate are two that are not different” cited in the Shu; and the text in fascicle six on how one who knows the Dharma, whether old or young, is to be revered and bowed to, which is what the Shu rests upon in speaking of “honoring the Dharma.” So the chain of this section, beyond the three texts Chengguan cites at second hand, holds also two places in one sūtra, the Nirvāṇa, and both are brought to light by the Chao, not made plain by the Shu itself.

The text of one section: the first half is the bow, the second half is the Dharma. What is bowed to is a mind only just given rise to, and the Dharma is the exhausting of letters and sounds—only when the weight of that single thought is first acknowledged can this one gate of the Dharma be handed over. That one rising and one sitting, Megha's coming down from the seat and returning to it, is the whole of this section.

A Stretch of Road That Took Twelve Years to Walk: Sudhana Carries the Teaching of the Previous Good Friend with Him

After Sudhana left Megha, the sūtra text does not let him meet the next good friend at once; it first gives a very long stretch of narrative. He “ponders the bodhisattvas' gate of adornment by the light of the dhāraṇī of unobstructed analytic understanding,” and then enters deeply into the gate of the ocean of speech, holds in mind the gate of minutely fine skillful means, observes the gate of the pure mind, accomplishes the gate of the light of roots of goodness, purifies the gate of transforming beings, makes bright and keen the gate of the wisdom that gathers beings in, makes firm the gate of vast aspiration and delight, holds and maintains the gate of surpassing aspiration and delight, purifies the gate of the various kinds of faith and understanding, and ponders the gate of the measureless good mind—eleven sentences in all.

Chengguan outlines this stretch as the first half of ‘seeking in accord with the teaching,’ and judges that “the first eleven sentences are the pondering and cultivating of the former Dharma; the first is the general and the rest are the particulars.” That is to say, the first sentence is the general, and the ten below it are the particulars. What is called ‘pondering and cultivating the former Dharma’ is to take the Dharma conferred by the previous good friend, hold it in hand, and ponder it and cultivate it the whole way along—not to have done with it as soon as it is heard.

Going through the ten particular gates one by one, one finds that the sūtra text fits a verb to each gate, and that the verbs are chosen: there are ten occurrences of the verb across the ten gates but only nine forms—‘purifying and governing’ occurs twice, and each of the other eight gates uses a form of its own. The second gate uses “entering deeply into,” and what is entered deeply is the ocean of speech—a good friend's teaching is handed on by speech, so the first thing is to go into the depth of speech, not to stop at having heard. The third gate uses “holding in mind,” and what is held in mind is the minutely fine skillful means of knowing all beings—skillful means are the finest thing and the easiest to forget the moment they pass the eye, so “holding in mind” is fitted to them. The fourth gate uses “observing,” and what is observed is the gate of the pure mind—the mind is there to be looked at, not to be thought about. The fifth gate uses “accomplishing,” and what is accomplished is the light of the roots of goodness. The sixth gate uses “purifying and governing,” and what is governed is the gate of transforming beings—the very thought with which one speaks Dharma for another is the likeliest to have oneself mixed into it, so it must be governed. The seventh gate uses “making bright and keen,” and what is made keen is the wisdom that gathers beings in—if wisdom is dull it cannot hold people. The eighth gate makes “firm” the vast aspiration and delight, and the ninth “holds and maintains” the surpassing aspiration and delight: aspiration and delight are of two kinds, vast and surpassing; the vast is in danger of falling back, so firmness is fitted to it, and the surpassing is in danger of being lost, so holding and maintaining is fitted to it. The tenth gate uses “purifying and governing” a second time, and what is governed is the various kinds of faith and understanding. The eleventh gate comes back to “pondering,” and what is pondered is the measureless good mind—the same word as the first gate, one opening and one closing.

Set aside a misunderstanding: these ten gates are easily taken for a heap of ten names. What the sūtra text writes is in fact ten different ways of applying oneself—entering deeply, holding in mind, observing, accomplishing, purifying and governing, making bright and keen, making firm, holding and maintaining, purifying and governing, pondering. Brought down to the ground: upon one and the same stretch of Dharma a different hand must be laid upon different parts of it; to ask oneself which verb one is using upon a given gate is usually more use than asking whether one remembers its name.

A misunderstanding has to be set aside first. In reading the fifty-three visits, one easily puts all one's attention upon ‘whom he met and what dharma gate he obtained,’ and takes the road between two good friends for an interlude. The sūtra text refuses to be written that way. It writes what he does on the road at greater length than the meeting. Brought down to the ground: the place where a stretch of teaching truly takes effect is not in the moment of hearing it, but in that stretch of road before the next person is met.

The Long Passage After the Eleven Sentences: What Sort of Person Comes of Such Cultivation

When the eleven sentences of ‘gates’ are done, the sūtra text shifts its key, and from “his vows were firm and his mind knew no weariness” it runs on and on—adorning himself with every sort of armor, the deep mind of his vigor unable to be turned back, complete in unbreakable faith, his mind firm as the vajra and as Nārāyaṇa, keeping and maintaining the instructions of all good friends, pure in the universal gate, full in the light of wisdom, complete in the light of the holding-entire of the grounds, knowing the various differences of the Dharma realm, with nothing to rely on and nowhere to abide, equal and without duality … on to “he accomplished the great vow that his body should pervade all the nets of Buddha-fields, and that all the Dharma realm should universally enter into his body.”

Chengguan judges this to be “from ‘his vows were firm’ onward, the displaying of the benefit of the cultivation”—this long stretch is not the raising of another matter; it is the fruit of cultivating the eleven sentences above.

This long stretch may be looked at in several further sections. The four sentences at its head speak of vow and faith: his vows were firm, his mind knew no weariness, he adorned himself with every sort of armor, the deep mind of his vigor was unable to be turned back, and it closes with “complete in unbreakable faith”—armor is a figure, and what it says is that he is not pierced through by objective realms; being unable to be turned back and being unbreakable in faith are two ways of saying one thing, the one in terms of practice and the other in terms of faith. Then the firmness of his mind is concluded by the two figures of the vajra and Nārāyaṇa, and it turns to “keeping and maintaining the instructions of all good friends, and obtaining among all objective realms an unbreakable wisdom”—this sentence brings the faith above down onto actual matters: what is kept is the instruction of good friends, and what is obtained is a wisdom unbreakable amid objective realms.

The next section speaks of what he practices and what he illumines: pure in the universal gate, unobstructed in what he practices, full in the light of wisdom, universally illumining all; and then “complete in the light of the holding-entire of the grounds, knowing the various differences of the Dharma realm, with nothing to rely on and nowhere to abide, equal and without duality.” Difference and equality are told within this one sentence, and it is the ground of what comes later, where the fields appear within the body and yet are “not jumbled together.”

Six sentences in this section must not be skipped either, for the sūtra text runs on in one breath from the sentences cited above. The first three are “pure in self-nature and universally adorned, reaching the ultimate in all that he practices, pure in wisdom and apart from all clinging”: purity of self-nature stands first and universal adornment after—it is not that one adorns first and then seeks purity, but that, being originally pure, whatever is adorned is adornment through and through; reaching the ultimate in all that he practices is said of the end of practice, not of the amount of it; and wisdom being pure, what is left behind is clinging, from which it may be seen that ‘purity’ here does not mean breadth of knowing and seeing but not sticking. The latter three are “pure and wondrous dharmas fill his mind, the samādhi of universal wisdom brightly illumines his mind, his mind ever universally enters the realm of equality,” and all three are fastened upon the ‘mind’: dharmas fill that mind, concentration illumines that mind, and that mind enters the realm of equality—what fills, what illumines, and what is entered stand in plain order: first the dharmas are in the mind, next concentration illumines this mind, and only at the end does this mind ever enter equality. Taking the six together, the first three are said of self-nature, of what is practiced, and of wisdom, and the latter three of what the mind receives, what illumines it, and what it enters. Only when these six are complete is there anything to receive the five sentences of the differences of the ten directions below: it is because he can enter equality that he is not thrown into confusion amid difference.

The third section is the five sentences of the ten directions: he knew the differing dharmas of the ten directions, went to the differing places of the ten directions, was clear about the differing deeds of the ten directions, saw appear the differing Buddhas of the ten directions, and entered deeply the differing times of the ten directions—dharmas, places, deeds, Buddhas, times, counted out one by one as five. Each sentence is set up upon the word ‘differing,’ and what differs is not the same in each: the first is the dharmas known, the second the places gone to, the third the deeds understood, the fourth the Buddhas seen, the fifth the times entered.

The last section is the sustaining by the Buddhas' power: touched by the illumining of the Tathāgatas' wisdom, the stream of all-knowledge continuing unbroken, in body and in mind not apart from the Buddha-dharma, sustained by the spiritual power of all the Buddhas, illumined by the light of all the Tathāgatas; and only then “he accomplished the great vow that his body should pervade all the nets of Buddha-fields, and that all the Dharma realm should universally enter into his body.”

Look at the direction of these four sections: from his own vow and faith, to practice and wisdom, to the differences of the ten directions, to the sustaining by the Buddhas' power, and only at the end does it dare to say that the Dharma realm universally enters his body. Brought down to the ground: a sentence that looks like the largest is propped up rung by rung by a string of smaller sentences before it; pull out any one rung, and the large sentence becomes an empty one.

What is worth noticing is the direction this stretch takes. It begins with words very near to a person, such as “his mind knew no weariness,” walks on to “he knew the differing dharmas of the ten directions,” “he went to the differing places of the ten directions,” “among the differing Buddhas of the ten directions there was not one he did not see appear,” and comes down at last upon “all the Dharma realm should universally enter into his body.” How can one person's body have the Dharma realm universally enter into it? Here this sentence looks like exaggeration, but in fact it is a post set in advance—what the Elder Liberation manifests below is precisely the containing of all Buddha-fields within a body. The sūtra text says it once upon Sudhana's body before it plays it out once upon the good friend's body. Brought down to the ground: when you come to a sentence of description that looks lavish, do not skip it first; look and see whether it is setting a pillar for the text to come.

Twelve Years and the City of Abiding Grove: What the Ancient Worthies Read Out of These Two Names

What comes next is only one sentence: “Little by little he journeyed on, and after twelve years he came to the city of Abiding Grove, and searched everywhere for the Elder Liberation.”

The number twelve years is one the ancient worthies did not let pass. Chengguan raises three readings—“as for the twelve years, of old it was said that in one's own portion and in the advance one cultivates the six perfections in each, and further that it displays the universal observing of the twelve abodes; and further that it signifies not abiding in the twelve links, and so it says journeying on.” The first sense is the old statement: one's own portion and the advance, two layers, six perfections cultivated in each, twelve together. The next sense is the universal observing of the twelve abodes. The third sense weighs most: it signifies not abiding in the twelve links of dependent origination, and so it is called ‘journeying on’—walking and not abiding, and this is what joins up with the name of the good friend below. Chengguan himself draws this line to the end: if one does not abide in the links then one obtains liberation, and so the text below says ‘he got sight of him.’

Fazang takes only the ancient men's one sense of the six perfections. Li Tongxuan speaks solely in terms of the twelve links, and sets it against the twelve years of the second good friend, the monk Ocean Cloud—Ocean Cloud dwelt in the land of Sea Gate twelve years, observing the twelve links and coming forth from the world; the twelve years of the Elder Liberation here Li Tongxuan judges to be practicing within the world amid the dharmas of the twelve links of birth. One and the same number: one signifies coming forth, and one signifies dwelling amid the common world.

As for the name ‘the city of Abiding Grove,’ Fazang gives three readings: the establishing of the virtue of practice is called a grove, and being settled, firm, and unmoving is called abiding; and further, this elder perched in a place of great groves and long roads, and the name was taken from that; and further, this elder abides within samādhi, and within his body the realm of the Buddhas, both dependent and proper, both cause and fruit, appears widely, as many as a grove. Li Tongxuan says directly that the city is named Abiding Grove because all minds and objective realms are of themselves the grove of the unobstructed liberation and dhyāna of the Dharma realm.

Set aside a misunderstanding: these glosses upon names are not word-games. They are a way the ancient worthies read the sūtra—first asking why this name appears here, rather than treating it as no more than a point upon a map. Brought down to the ground: when you come to a proper name, it is worth asking one question, ‘set upon this good friend, does this name fit?’

The First Thing Done at the Meeting: Casting the Five Parts of the Body to the Ground

“Having seen him, he cast the five parts of his body to the ground, rose and stood, joined his palms, and spoke”—Chengguan outlines this as the first of ‘seeing, paying respect, and inquiring,’ that is, ‘seeing and paying respect.’

In these fourteen graphs there are four actions: casting to the ground, rising and standing, joining the palms, and speaking. Li Tongxuan reads a further layer here: that having seen him he cast the five parts of his body to the ground is the true and the common having nothing to rely on, the five stages meeting together; that joining the palms is the true and the common meeting and being not two. This is his constant track of reading what things signify, plainly attributed to him, and not to be mixed with what the sūtra text says of itself.

What has to be brought out is the sequence: body first, mouth after. Sudhana does not open his mouth and ask about the Dharma the moment he meets him; he first puts his body on the ground. Brought down to the ground: the posture of seeking the Dharma is not to set out one's questions first, but to set oneself low first.

Ten Words for ‘Hard’: Why Praising a Good Friend Takes So Many Words of Negation

As soon as Sudhana opens his mouth, he does not ask about the Dharma; he speaks first of what is hard—“such a one as a good friend is hard to get sight of, hard to get hearing of, hard to appear in the world, hard to obtain the chance to serve, hard to obtain nearness to, hard to obtain the receiving of, hard to meet with, hard to obtain dwelling together with, hard to gladden, hard to obtain the following after without parting.” Ten words for ‘hard’ run on one after another, and it closes with “that today I am able to meet with him—this is to have obtained a good gain.”

Chengguan gives only one gloss upon this, and yet it is very telling: “that he congratulates himself is because he has hoped for many years.”—the reason he congratulates himself is that he has looked forward to this for many years. Just above it says he walked twelve years, and so the ten hard things here take on weight: they are not the modest words of rhetoric, but words that only one who has walked that road could say.

Set aside a misunderstanding: a reader easily takes these ten sentences for a courteous eulogy. The sūtra text is in fact doing something else—it is setting a price upon the good friend. The higher it is set, the more the Dharma requested below can be borne. Brought down to the ground: to hold the Dharma precious grows out of holding the one who confers it precious; in this stretch Sudhana first sets straight the price in his own mind.

The Marks of Giving Rise to the Mind (One): In Order to Exhaust the Realm of the Buddhas

Next Sudhana states his own giving rise to the mind. Chengguan judges this stretch to be “first the general, and after that, from ‘for the sake of’ onward, the separate setting out of the marks of giving rise to the mind,” and the separate setting out is again threefold, the first being the wish to exhaust the realm of the Buddhas above.

The sūtra text begins from “for the sake of serving all the Buddhas,” serving the Buddhas, meeting the Buddhas, seeing the Buddhas, observing the Buddhas, knowing the Buddhas, and then turns deeper—“for the sake of realizing the equality of all the Buddhas,” and then turns to vows, the light of wisdom, the many practices, spiritual powers, the powers, and fearlessness.

The separate setting out of the marks of giving rise to the mind counts out as thirty-one sentences, and the three parts Chengguan divides are thirteen, five, and thirteen: the first part, exhausting the realm of the Buddhas above, thirteen sentences; the second, exhausting the source of the Dharma, five; the third, being equal to the practice of the bodhisattvas, thirteen. The shortest of the three is the second, with only five. Thirteen at either end and only five in the middle—the shape itself has something to say: the Buddhas and the bodhisattvas are told at length while the Dharma is told briefly, because the business of the Dharma lies in the five words hearing, receiving, holding, understanding, guarding, and more words are no help.

The thirteen sentences of the first part, item by item, run: serving the Buddhas, meeting the Buddhas, seeing the Buddhas, observing the Buddhas, knowing the Buddhas—these five are the coming into contact with the Buddhas; realizing the equality of all the Buddhas is the one sentence that turns the hinge; below it, giving rise to the great vows of all the Buddhas and fulfilling the great vows of all the Buddhas are two sentences, the giving rise and the fulfilling told apart—the giving rise is the beginning and the fulfilling is the reaching of the end, and the sūtra text will not run them into one sentence; and below these, being complete in the light of wisdom, accomplishing the many practices, obtaining spiritual powers, being complete in the powers, and obtaining fearlessness are five sentences, the virtues the Buddhas possess. Five, one, two, five, making thirteen.

Brought down to the ground: when reading a string of parallel sentences, first count how many there are, and then see where it takes breath. The place where it takes breath is the joint of the doctrine.

Look at its sequence: first the contact outside (serving, meeting, seeing), then the knowing within (observing, knowing), then equality with the Buddhas, and only at last the virtues the Buddhas possess. This string is not laid out at random; it is one road, from drawing near to realizing and entering. Brought down to the ground: if the giving rise to the mind stops at ‘I want to see the Buddha,’ it is still in the first stretch; the sūtra text pushes it all the way to ‘realizing the equality of all the Buddhas.’

The Marks of Giving Rise to the Mind (Two): In Order to Exhaust the Source of the Dharma

The second stretch begins from “for the sake of hearing all the Buddha-dharma.” Chengguan outlines this as “the wish to exhaust the source of the Dharma.” Hearing, receiving, holding, understanding, guarding—five verbs run on one after another, and they are a complete attitude toward the Dharma: to hear it in, to take it up, to keep it, to penetrate it, to guard it.

Then it turns into the Saṅgha—“for the sake of being of one substance with all the assemblies of bodhisattvas,” “for the sake of being equal to and no different from the roots of goodness of all bodhisattvas,” and on to the pāramitās, the practices cultivated, and the pure vows. Chengguan judges here, “third, from ‘for the sake of being with all’ onward is the wish to be equal to the practice of the bodhisattvas, which is likewise the objective realm of the jewel of the Saṅgha.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that the purpose of hearing the Dharma is to know a great deal. Of the five verbs in the sūtra text, only one is “understanding”; the other four are all actions—hearing, receiving, holding, guarding. Brought down to the ground: to examine one's own relation to a stretch of Dharma, one may go through these five words one by one and see upon which one it breaks off.

The Marks of Giving Rise to the Mind (Three): Five of Practice and Eight of Treasury—Five Sentences on the Practice of the Bodhisattvas, Eight That Are ‘Treasuries’

The third stretch begins from “for the sake of being of one substance with all the assemblies of bodhisattvas,” and its thirteen sentences fall into two cuts: the first five speak in terms of the practice of the bodhisattvas—being of one substance with the assemblies of bodhisattvas, being equal to and no different from the roots of goodness of the bodhisattvas, fulfilling the pāramitās, accomplishing the practices cultivated, bringing forth the pure vows; and only the latter eight are a whole string of ‘treasuries’: the treasury of majestic spiritual power, the great light of the inexhaustible wisdom of the treasury of the Dharma, the vast treasury of samādhis, the treasury of spiritual powers, the treasury of great compassion, the treasury of spiritual transformations, the treasury of sovereignty, the pure treasury.

‘Treasury’ has the sense of containing what has not yet been wholly brought out. What this string seeks is not one ready-made virtue after another, but the storehouse that can bring virtues forth. The last sentence deserves particular notice—“for the sake of entering into the pure treasury and adorning it with all marks.” Chengguan's Yanyi chao points out that this sentence and the question below are of one breath: what is said above, ‘for the sake of entering into the pure treasury and adorning it with all marks,’ is precisely for the sake of asking ‘how may one enter into the pure treasury.’ Every sentence in the marks of giving rise to the mind has in fact a question buried in it.

Two of the eight treasuries are not mere names: the sūtra text gives each a qualifying clause, and these must be read out separately. The first is the treasury of great compassion, where the text runs “for the sake of teaching, transforming, and taming all beings by the treasury of great compassion, causing them all to reach the ultimate, to the very limit.” This sentence does not say ‘obtaining’ the treasury of great compassion but ‘by means of’ it—here the treasury is what is used, not what is gathered in; and used for what? For teaching, transforming, and taming all beings. To what point? “Causing them all to reach the ultimate, to the very limit.” The vows of the preceding seven sentences mostly stop at what is gained in one's own portion; this one alone turns toward beings, and sets the limit at the very limit—it is the one sentence among the eight treasuries that writes the ultimate of others into what is vowed. The second is the treasury of sovereignty, where the text runs “for the sake of gaining sovereignty by one's own mind in all the treasuries of sovereignty.” It does not say that sovereignty is gained within the treasury; it says it is gained “by one's own mind”—what sovereignty rests upon is the mind, not the treasury. This sentence lies on one line with the close of this stretch, that the Buddhas seen are all by one's own mind: the Dharma realm the Elder shows lies in the mind, and the vow Sudhana gives rise to likewise takes the mind as the place where sovereignty is gained. The last, the pure treasury, with its “adorning with all marks,” was spoken of above. Taking the three together, the last three of the eight treasuries each have their own landing place—one lands upon beings, one upon one's own mind, one upon adornment.

Look at this order: first there is set out being of one substance with the bodhisattvas and no different in roots of goodness, and only then are the pāramitās and the practices cultivated spoken of, and only at the end is the storehouse that can bring all things forth sought. That is to say, the ‘treasury’ is listed after being of one substance and equal in roots of goodness; it is the latter half of one and the same string of vows, not a separately begun object of seeking. Brought down to the ground: being of one substance and equal in roots of goodness stands first and the seeking of the treasury comes after; this is the order of the vows, not a threshold of qualification.

Brought down to the ground: if the vow one gives rise to can be said, then the Dharma one asks after can be asked precisely; when no question comes out, it is most often that the vow has not yet been said clearly.

It Is with Such a Mind That I Have Come: Concluding What Precedes and Giving Rise to What Follows

“Holy one! Today it is with such a mind, such an intent, such a delight, such a desire, such a hope and seeking, such a pondering, such a reverence, such a skillful means, such an ultimate, and such a humbling of myself that I have come here to the holy one.”

Chengguan outlines this as the first of the three divisions of the inquiry—“first, concluding what precedes and giving rise to what follows: that is, it concludes the marks of the giving rise to the mind above and thereby becomes the opening of the inquiry, and so it says, with such a mind … he came to where the holy one was.” The ten “such” point back, one by one, to the mind given rise to above. This is a joint: it gathers that whole long stretch of giving rise to the mind into one sentence, ‘these are what I have come carrying.’

Notice the last word: the humbling of myself. The first nine all speak of the loftiness and reach of the mind, and the last turns back to what is low. Brought down to the ground: to give an account of oneself before asking about the Dharma is not to report one's own merits, but to let the other know to what sort of mind he is to speak—and the last sentence of that account is humility.

Praising His Skill in Drawing On and Instructing: The Sūtra Text Lists More Than Twenty Things a Good Friend Does

From “I have heard that the holy one is well able to draw on and instruct the assemblies of bodhisattvas” onward, Chengguan outlines it as ‘praising his skill in drawing on and instructing.’ The sūtra text first says four things: making clear what he has obtained, showing them the road, giving them a ford and a bridge, and conferring upon them a dharma gate; and then a long string of “making”—making them take away the obstruction of confusion and inversion, drawing out the arrow of hesitancy, cutting through the net of doubt, lighting up the dense forest of the mind, washing the filth and turbidity of the mind, making the mind clean and white, making the mind cool, making a fawning and crooked mind straight, cutting off the mind's birth-and-death, stopping the mind's unwholesomeness, loosening the mind's clinging.

The likenesses in this string are very concentrated: obstruction, arrow, net, dense forest, filth and turbidity. Doubt is a net, hesitancy is an arrow, the afflictions are a thick forest—all of them things that bind and are hard to get out of. And the verbs used are taking away, drawing out, cutting through, lighting up, washing.

Below this it turns again: “to make the mind liberated in the very place of clinging, and to make the mind turn about in the very place of defiled love”—these two sentences show the hand and eye most. It is not that the place of clinging is moved aside, but that in the very place of clinging the mind is made liberated; not that one leaves defiled love, but that in the very place of defiled love the mind is made to turn about. It closes with “universally, toward all, that their minds should be equal.”

After these two sentences the sūtra text has ten further matters before it comes down upon “universally, toward all, that their minds should be equal.” Counted out item by item they are ten: making them swiftly enter the realm of all-knowledge, making them quickly arrive at the unsurpassed city of Dharma, making them abide in great compassion, making them abide in great loving-kindness, making them enter the practice of the bodhisattvas, making them cultivate the gates of samādhi, making them enter the station of realization, making them observe the nature of dharmas, making them increase their power, making them cultivate practice.

These ten may be cut into three. The first two both carry the sense of the word ‘quickly’—swiftly entering the realm of knowledge, quickly arriving at the city of Dharma—and what they tell of is the good friend's power to spare a person the road. The middle four are the ground of the mind and the gates of practice: abiding in great compassion, abiding in great loving-kindness, entering the practice of the bodhisattvas, cultivating the gates of samādhi. Notice that the sūtra text puts compassion before loving-kindness, the reverse of the usual order in which the two are said together: first the being moved to draw out suffering, and after that the giving of ease. The last four are realization and contemplation: entering the station of realization, observing the nature of dharmas, increasing power, cultivating practice—the last is not the highest of them, and yet it is the most solid, and the whole string comes back at this point onto the three words of cultivating practice.

The closing sentence, “universally, toward all, that their minds should be equal,” is not within the ten; it is the general gathering up. Every one of the things made to happen above has an object and a leaning, and this sentence levels the leaning. Brought down to the ground: what a good friend gives is not only ten rungs going up, but also that last sentence which lays the ladder flat.

Brought down to the ground: the use of a good friend is not to carry objective realms away for a person, but to loosen the mind upon the objective realms that are already there.

Requesting the Telling of What He Doubts: The Sentence That Asks It Through to the End

“I only pray that the holy one will expound for me: how is a bodhisattva to study the practice of a bodhisattva and to cultivate the path of a bodhisattva? And in accord with what he cultivates, how may he swiftly obtain purity and swiftly obtain clear understanding?”

This is the form of question shared by all the fifty-three visits, and here there is a latter half besides—not only asking how to cultivate, but asking how to cultivate so as swiftly to obtain purity and swiftly to obtain clear understanding.

Fazang sets up here a general rule worth keeping in mind: he says that all the passages first state one's own giving rise to the mind of awakening and afterward request the Dharma; from this it may be verified that to receive the great Dharma one must first give rise to this mind, and that without giving rise to this mind one is not a vessel for this Dharma. And he adds one more sentence—this is the great rut of the Buddha-dharma, and it ought to be pondered and remembered.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that asking about the Dharma is throwing out one's questions. The sequence of the sūtra text is the giving rise to the mind first and the question after, and the question is only the last sentence of the giving rise to the mind. Brought down to the ground: when no good question comes out, to look back and see whether the vow has been given rise to concretely enough is often more use than thinking up more questions.

An Answer Without Opening the Mouth: He First Enters Concentration

The asking done, the sūtra text gives no answer; it gives an action: “At this time, the Elder Liberation, by the power of roots of goodness in the past, by the power of the majestic spiritual power of the Buddha, and by the power of the mindfulness of the youth Mañjuśrī, at once entered a bodhisattva's gate of samādhi, named: the dhāraṇī of the boundless whirling that universally gathers in all the Buddha-fields.”

Chengguan outlines ‘directly showing the Dharma realm’ into two, the first being the silent showing by entering concentration and the latter the answering in words after coming out of concentration, and he explains why the entering of concentration must come first here—he says that the showing by entering concentration here also displays that in the stage to which this one is assigned concentration is predominant.

The three powers also each signify something. Chengguan glosses: first is the making clear of the cause and condition of entering the concentration, past goodness being the cause, which signifies self-cultivation; the latter two are conditions, the majestic power of the host Buddha signifying original awakening, and the power of Mañjuśrī's mindfulness displaying faith and wisdom. Fazang has another reading of Mañjuśrī's power, saying it is the power by which Sudhana and the good friend do not let go of each other.

Nor is the name of the concentration set down at random. Chengguan glosses this name saying that it is the universal gathering in of the fields within the body, and that by a mind-only wisdom that holds entire in accord with the nature it makes substance and function whirl unobstructed, and so it takes this name. Fazang divides it in terms of the objective realm and of wisdom: the gathering in of the fields takes its title from the objective realm, and the whirling and holding takes its name from wisdom.

Brought down to the ground: what most repays turning over in this stretch is the form itself—asked a question about ‘how to cultivate,’ the answer is first to close the mouth and enter concentration. Some dharmas are not first explained clearly and then shown; they are first seen and then spoken of.

The Buddha-Fields of the Ten Directions Appearing Within a Body: What Appears Is Not the Buddhas Only

“Having entered this samādhi, he obtained a pure body. Within his body there appeared Buddhas as many as the dust motes of ten Buddha-fields in each of the ten directions”—and then the sūtra text adds layer upon layer. First the Buddhas, then their lands, assemblies, places of awakening, lights, and adornments; then the spiritual transformations, great vows, dharmas that aid the path, practices of coming forth, and pure adornments those Buddhas had in the past; then the seeing of the Buddhas accomplishing equal right awakening, turning the wondrous wheel of the Dharma, and transforming beings.

Further down is the whole layout from “dwelling in the Tuṣita palace” to “raising stūpas and temples”: dwelling in the Tuṣita palace, passing away from the Tuṣita palace, dwelling in the womb, being born, dwelling within the palace, going forth from the household, going to the place of awakening, breaking the armies of Māra, being surrounded by gods and nāgas, being requested by the lords of the world to tell the Dharma, turning the wheel of the Dharma, entering parinirvāṇa, dividing the relics, raising stūpas and temples. In this stretch the eighty-fascicle text sets out sentence by sentence fourteen matters as they are actually counted; Fazang's Tanxuan ji, upon the sixty-fascicle text, judges this to be ‘manifesting the eight marks of the Buddha, the provisional transformation that gathers beings in,’ which is a number set up by a commentator upon that text, and the eighty-fascicle sūtra text has not the two words for ‘eight marks,’ so a reader should not take the name of the eight marks as a judgment the sūtra text has of itself. Last is the Buddhas telling the Dharma to every sort of being, in every sort of place of awakening, with every sort of dharma gate.

The word ‘various’ in this stretch is not a vague word; everywhere it can be counted. The beings it faces count out item by item as nine kinds: assemblies, worlds, destinies of birth, families, desires and delights, deeds and practices, languages, faculties and natures, afflictions with their latencies and habit energies—laid out from outward to inward, the first four the circle one is in and the stock one comes of, the middle three what one likes, what one does, and what one says, and only the last two the faculties and the delusions, the deepest item set last. The places of awakening it is in count out as five kinds: the minutely fine place of awakening, the vast place of awakening, one of a yojana's extent, one of ten yojanas' extent, and one of the extent of yojanas as many as the dust motes of Buddha-fields beyond all telling—beginning from the smallest and stopping at the largest, the two middle steps being countable extents and the last an extent beyond telling, five steps drawn open in one breath. The teaching it gives counts out as six gates: spiritual powers, words, voices, dharma gates, gates of the holding-entire, gates of eloquence—the first three the instruments that can carry, the latter three the Dharma carried and the power to hold it and to speak it.

Set the three numbers nine, five, and six side by side, and they say exactly what the four graphs above said. “Not jumbled together” does not mean one undifferentiated blur of light; it means that nine kinds of beings are not mixed into one kind, five grades of place of awakening are not run into one grade, six gates of teaching are not kneaded into one gate. The body holds all of this, and each item is still each its own. Brought down to the ground: when a string of ‘various’ comes, there is no need to hurry past it—count how many kinds it actually is. That the sūtra text can be counted at all is precisely what proves those four graphs.

Two sentences have to be brought out. One is “all such things as these appeared wholly within his body without obstruction”; the other is “every sort of form and mark, every sort of sequence, abode as it originally was, without confusion among them.” The former sentence says that it holds them; the latter says that it does not blend them. To hold them and yet not blend them is the marvel of this stretch—it is not that the myriad things are pressed into one mass and stuffed into a body, but that each abides as its own original mark.

Chengguan judges that the name of the dharma gate, ‘the Tathāgatas' unobstructed adornment,’ has five senses: that every Tathāgata is possessed of every unobstructed adornment; that each single Tathāgata pervades the others unobstructed; that all the adornments of all the Tathāgatas enter into the elder's body; that the elder sees through to the ocean of Buddhas of the ten directions; and that the elder's wisdom holds them and does not take them for an obstruction. His Yanyi chao carries the third sense the furthest: since the body is not large and the fields are not small, and there is no coming and going either, they pervade one another unobstructed; the body that contains the fields enters into the fields within the body, and the body within the fields within the body can contain fields again, and the fields so contained can have bodies again, and therefore body upon body is without end and field upon field is without exhaustion.

Fazang sets up only four senses, and has not the fifth, that of the wisdom that holds. Recorded without judgment.

The Benefit Sudhana Obtains Within the Concentration: He Is Not a Bystander

“Of all the words those Tathāgatas spoke, the youth Sudhana was wholly able to hear and receive them; and he saw as well the inconceivable samādhis and spiritual transformations of the Buddhas and of the bodhisattvas.”

Chengguan outlines this as “third, from ‘all the words those Tathāgatas spoke’ onward. Causing Sudhana to hear and see,” while Fazang says that Sudhana entered the Dharma realm manifested above, heard the Dharma told by the Buddhas within that body, and saw the spiritual power of the Buddhas within that body.

This sentence is very short, and yet it is the joint upon which the whole silent showing by entering concentration stands or falls. If it were only that the Elder Liberation himself saw the Buddhas within concentration, it would have nothing to do with Sudhana; the sūtra text says plainly that Sudhana “was wholly able to hear and receive”—he was not standing outside watching a man enter concentration; he went in.

Brought down to the ground: in a true showing of the Dharma the hearer is carried in, not talked at.

The Name Is Given Only After Coming Out of Concentration: First the Seeing, Then the Name

“At this time, the Elder Liberation rose from the samādhi and told the youth Sudhana, saying: ‘Son of good family! I have entered and come out of the Tathāgatas' gate of liberation of unobstructed adornment.’”

Chengguan outlines the stretch after coming out of concentration into four: first, the making clear of the rising from concentration; second, the showing of the name and substance of the concentration; third, the making clear of the working of the concentration; fourth, the displaying of the substance and marks of the concentration. The name stands in the second place—Sudhana is first let to watch the whole of it, and only after coming out of concentration is he told what it is called.

Note that the verb is “entered and come out of,” not “entered.” A concentration that can be entered but not come out of is of no use; the sūtra text gives both words, and the sentence of humbling himself below still reads “obtained entering and coming out,” answering head to tail. The sixty-fascicle text here reads “accomplished,” and in the last stretch “cultivated this,” not using the two words for entering and coming out—recorded without judgment.

Brought down to the ground: the name of a dharma gate is a label for the use of one who has already seen; it is not the key to the door. Read the sequence backward, and one easily takes the name for the Dharma.

One Buddha in Each of the Ten Directions: Ten Sentences, One Sentence Pattern, and Not One Name Repeated

Next comes the most evenly ordered piece of layout in this stretch. The Elder Liberation tells what he sees when he enters and comes out of this gate—

The east, the world Jambū-River Gold Light, the Tathāgata Dragon Sovereign King, with the bodhisattva Vairocana Treasury as foremost; the south, the world Swift Power, the Tathāgata Universal Fragrance, with the bodhisattva Mind King as foremost; the west, the world Fragrant Light, the Tathāgata Sumeru Lamp King, with the bodhisattva Unobstructed Mind as foremost; the north, the world Kāṣāya Banner, the Tathāgata Unbreakable Vajra, with the bodhisattva Vajra Stride Valiant as foremost; the northeast, the world All Supreme and Wondrous Jewels, the Tathāgata Eye of the Realm of Nothing Obtained, with the bodhisattva Good Transformation of Nothing Obtained as foremost; the southeast, the world Fragrant Flame Light and Sound, the Tathāgata Fragrant Lamp, with the bodhisattva Vajra Flame Wisdom as foremost; the southwest, the world Sun of Wisdom Universal Light, the Tathāgata Dharma-Realm Wheel Banner, with the bodhisattva Manifesting All Transformations Banner as foremost; the northwest, the world Universally Pure, the Tathāgata Banner Lofty and Surpassing among All Buddha-Jewels, with the bodhisattva Dharma Banner King as foremost; above, the world Buddhas Appearing in Succession Without End, the Tathāgata Full Banner of Boundless Light of Wisdom, with the bodhisattva Dharma-Realm Gate Banner King as foremost; below, the world Buddha Light, the Tathāgata Unobstructed Wisdom Banner, with the bodhisattva Banner King of All the Fields of the World as foremost.

The sentence pattern is wholly the same in all ten rounds, and yet of the thirty names not one is repeated. Reading down direction by direction, one can also see the answering among the names: the world of the east takes its name from golden light, its Buddha is Dragon Sovereign King, and the foremost bodhisattva is named Vairocana Treasury, sharing the name-form Vairocana with the teaching-lord of this sūtra, which is the weight of the beginning of this string. The Buddha of the south is named Universal Fragrance, while the world of the southeast is named Fragrant Flame Light and Sound and its Buddha Fragrant Lamp—the one sense of fragrance runs across two directions. Sumeru Lamp King in the west and Full Banner of Boundless Light of Wisdom above take their names, the one by a lamp and the other by light, both upon illumining. The world of the north is named Kāṣāya Banner, its Buddha Unbreakable Vajra, and its foremost Vajra Stride Valiant—all three names set up upon firmness and valiant advance. The northeast is marked by raising two names of ‘nothing obtained’ side by side. The world of the southwest is named by the sun of wisdom, while its bodhisattva is named Manifesting All Transformations Banner. The northwest sets up the name of its world by purity, while its Buddha is named Lofty and Surpassing Banner and its bodhisattva Dharma Banner King, the one sense of banner carried on. The Buddha of the direction below is named Unobstructed Wisdom Banner, answering exactly to the two words ‘unobstructed’ in the name of the dharma gate, and it is the gathering up of the ten rounds.

Li Tongxuan judges here that the manifesting of ten Buddha-fields in each of the ten directions makes clear that the substance of the concentration pervades everywhere and is full, and therefore ten is taken as the round number; and he says separately that the ten Tathāgatas seen within the concentration and the foremost bodhisattvas are the Buddha-fruit and the practice of this very stage manifested by the samādhi.

Set aside a misunderstanding: this piece of names is easily taken for layout that may be skipped. Yet it is precisely by the ‘no repeating’ of these ten rounds that the sūtra text plays ‘unobstructed’ out for a person to see—if what appeared within the body were only a blur of light, that would not be called unobstructed; that would be called blended into one. The names are each distinct and not mixed together, and this is the making good of “abode as it originally was, without confusion among them” above.

Not Coming and Not Going: The Pivotal Sentence of the Whole Stretch

“Son of good family! I see Tathāgatas such as these, as many as the dust motes of ten Buddha-fields in each of the ten directions. Those Tathāgatas did not come here, and I did not go there.”

Chengguan judges this sentence to be “concluding what is seen above as being without coming or going in substance,” and says that only after it does the text “display widely the substance and marks of seeing the Buddhas in accord with the mind.” This sentence is the pivot of the whole stretch. So much has been said above of what is seen that, without this sentence set down, a reader would suppose that the Buddhas shifted their seats and came, or that the elder went by the power of spiritual travel. The sūtra text denies both sides in one breath.

This sentence in the sixty-fascicle text reads “those Tathāgatas did not come here, and I did not go there,” word for word the same as the eighty-fascicle text—it is the place in this stretch where the two translations stand closest.

Set aside a misunderstanding: not coming and not going does not say ‘he did not really see them.’ The sūtra text says plainly that he saw, and saw with perfect clarity, down to being able to count off the names of the foremost bodhisattvas. What is denied is not the seeing; it is the mark of coming and going within the seeing. Brought down to the ground: a thing may really have happened, and yet the way it happened need not be the sort of moving you supposed.

If I Wish to See, Then According with My Intent I See: From What Is Seen to That Which Sees

“If I wish to see the Tathāgata Amitābha of the world Peace and Bliss, then according with my intent I see him”—and then the Tathāgata Vajra Light of the world Sandalwood, the Tathāgata Jewel Light of the world Wondrous Fragrance, the Tathāgata Jewel Lotus Flower Light of the world Lotus Flower, the Tathāgata Quiescent Light of the world Wondrous Gold, the Tathāgata Unmoving of the world Wondrous Joy, the Tathāgata Lion of the world Well Abiding, the Tathāgata Moon Awakening of the world Mirror Light, the Tathāgata Vairocana of the world Jewel Lion Adornment, closing with “all such as these I see at once, then and there,” and adding one more sentence, “and yet those Tathāgatas did not come here, and my body did not go there.”

Chengguan judges this stretch to be “displaying widely the substance and marks of seeing the Buddhas in accord with the mind,” and opens four sub-outlines: first, making clear that in being mindful of the Buddhas in accord with the mind the Buddhas are present; second, directly displaying the substance of the contemplation of mind-only mindfulness of the Buddha; third, taking the mind-only contemplation to run through the myriad dharmas; fourth, concluding by exhorting to cultivation and study so as to realize mind-only. And under the first sub-outline he says one sentence that weighs much—since one has understood that the objective realm is mind-only and understood that mind is the Buddha, therefore whatever is held in mind is nothing but the Buddha, and what is hard about seeing him?

The former piece of ten rounds is what appeared within the concentration, presented passively; this piece of nine Buddhas is seeing according with the intent, a matter on the side of that which sees. From what is seen to that which sees—this is the turning axle of the doctrine of this stretch. And the sūtra text repeats the not coming and not going once more here—the repetition is not superfluous; it binds the two pieces to one and the same principle.

Brought down to the ground: to shift one's attention from ‘what I have seen’ to ‘how this seeing came about’ is the way of looking that this stretch teaches.

The Four Similes: Dream · Reflected Image · Illusion · Echo

“I know that all the Buddhas and my own mind are wholly like a dream; I know that all the Buddhas are like a reflected image and that my own mind is like water; I know that all the color and mark the Buddhas have, and my own mind as well, are wholly like an illusion; I know that all the Buddhas and my own mind are wholly like an echo. Knowing thus and holding it in mind thus: the Buddhas that are seen are all by one's own mind.”

What the four similes have in common has to be pointed out first: every one of them raises both the Buddha and the mind, and there is not one that likens the Buddha alone. This is a place easily read past—if the four similes likened the Buddha only, it would fall into ‘the Buddha is false’; the sūtra text likens one's own mind along with him, and only when both sides are empty at once does the mark of coming and going truly fail to stand.

Chengguan judges that “the text has four pairs, and the sense contains the general and the particular,” and says that the general is the displaying of mind-only and the likening of the absence of coming and going, and the particular is that each simile likens mind-only and makes clear besides the absence of going out and coming in, and so on. Upon each simile he gives a gloss: the dream simile is what mind-only makes, being at once existent and empty, and therefore without coming or going; upon the simile of the moon in water he speaks most finely—when the full moon is in the autumn sky it appears according with the water, and if the clear pool is bright and pure then the moon's image is round and clear, and if the water is turbid and the waves surge then the light is dim and the image scatters; where there is water the moon appears, and when did it ever come in, and where there is no water the image is empty, and when did it ever go out; and at the end he turns it into words of cultivation: though one sees the moon in the water, who can hold it fast? The settling and scattering of the mind are to be pondered and chosen upon this simile. The illusion simile he judges to be the unobstructedness of emptiness and existence—being illusory and not real, then mind and Buddha both vanish, and yet the illusory mark is not nothing, and so mind and Buddha are not destroyed; therefore the absence of coming and going does not hinder universal seeing, and the seeing is a seeing that is no seeing and constantly accords with the Middle Way. The echo simile he says is that with the mind as condition the Buddha answers as an echo, and it is only a general likening of the sense of being formed by conditions.

Chengguan also cites here scriptural grounds for mindfulness of the Buddha. He cites the dream simile of the Banzhou sanmei jing, and cites as well a stretch about one who heard the name of a woman of Śrāvastī and then dreamed of her, saying ‘she did not come and I did not go, and yet the delightful matter was vivid,’ which is precisely to liken a substance without coming or going that yet changes according with the mind; and where he concludes upon mind-only, he cites the stretch ‘this mind is the Buddha’ of the Wuliangshou guan jing. These are what Chengguan cites, and they are attributed to him.

Fazang has another track here. His second simile is not the moon in water but lightning—this is because the sixty-fascicle text here originally reads “are wholly like lightning” and “like an image in water.” From lightning he opens out four senses of the great function of the Buddhas, and concludes at the end that when the water of the mind is settled and clear it can manifest that image, and the water does not go and the lightning does not come, and yet there is no image that is not manifested. His illusion simile he attaches to the gate of the mutual reliance of dependent arising, saying that because the illusory mind is unobstructed it can manifest an unobstructed illusory Buddha. Chengguan's Yanyi chao also notices that the general and the particular of the similes differ between the two translations, judging upon the eighty-fascicle text that the reflected image alone is a particular simile and the other three are all general, and judging upon the forty-fascicle text (the new translation) that the dream and the echo have both the general and the particular while the reflected image and the illusion are particular only and not general. These divergent glosses are all settled statements of the ancient worthies; they are recorded without judgment.

Chengguan's Yanyi chao has several further layers beneath the four similes, and they are best read on from here. First, he does not gloss the dream simile once only but gives three ways of matching it: in terms of the one who practices, the nature of mind is as the object, the contemplation as the thinking upon a condition, and the contemplation accomplished as the dream; in terms of the realm of the Buddhas, the Dharma body is as the object, the reward body as the thinking, and the response body as the dream; and in terms of both stimulus and response, that Buddha is as the object, the practitioner as the thinking, and the seeing of the Buddha as what is seen in a dream. All three gloss one and the same sentence of the sūtra—that all Buddhas and one's own mind are alike as a dream; change the matching, and the matter illumined changes a layer, while the simile itself does not move. Second, he opens the water simile into four kinds: clear, turbid, moving, still; and the four cross to make four cases—turbid and moving, having delusion and no faith and many scattered thoughts; turbid and unmoving, having delusion and no faith but no grasping after objects; clear and moving, without delusion and having faith but with much examining thought; clear and still, without delusion and having faith and settled. What the four persons see of the Buddha differs accordingly, and he comes to rest on the fourth: the form is upright and fine, settled and unconfused, and the more it is contemplated the brighter it grows. The words cited above, that the settling and the scattering of the mind are to be weighed by the simile, have their real content in these four cases. Third, he sets up four contemplations upon the four similes: the direct simile of mind-only, emptiness because of mind-only, the provisional because of mind-only, and the middle because of mind-only, taking the fusing of them without obstruction as this sūtra's intent; and as for why the four similes are not collapsed into one, he refers it to their several strengths—the dream simile shows no coming and no going, the reflected image no going out and no coming in, the illusion neither existent nor non-existent, the echo neither joined nor scattered—while the first three liken the seeing of the Buddha's body and the last also likens the hearing of the Dharma, the dream matching the Dharma body, the image the reward body, and the illusion the transformation body. Fourth, after the gathering of objects back into mind he still sweeps one layer more: the mind is that which sees and the Buddha is what is seen, and if subject and object remain, then mind-only too becomes one more pair set against each other; so he raises the question of the knife that does not cut itself and the finger that does not touch itself—how should one's own mind turn and see one's own mind? Only where subject and object are not divided is the mark of seeing cut off. This sweeping is Chengguan's own addition and attaches to him; and once the reader has found a place to come to rest in the sentence that they are all by one's own mind, this layer is the guard that keeps the resting place from becoming a new clinging.

This stretch has another side: the ampler text preserved in Prajñā's forty-fascicle translation of the Avataṃsaka. The forty-fascicle text runs wider than the eighty-fascicle, and reading it one sees how the same stretch of Dharma is opened out in another translation; but the seven matters below are all the text of the forty-fascicle version, and may not be filled back in as what the base text says outright. First, the conditions for entering concentration: the eighty-fascicle text has three (former roots of goodness, the Buddha's majestic power, Mañjuśrī's mindful recollection), and the forty-fascicle adds one more above them—the sustaining power of the original vows of the good friends of the ten directions; Chengguan, upon the base text, judges three conditions and takes former goodness as cause and the other two as conditions, so that the forty-fascicle's fourth condition does not fall within that judgment, being the translation's own amplitude. Second, the body and the Buddha-fields: where the fields appear within the body, the forty-fascicle text says outright that body and Buddha-fields enter into one another without obstructing one another—the eighty-fascicle here only says that all appear within his body without obstruction, abiding as they were and not jumbled together, and does not bring out the words ‘entering into one another’; and the sentence Chengguan's Chao cites when glossing the third sense of the unobstructed agrees with the forty-fascicle, from which it may be seen that the commentators, reading this sense, took the new translation in as well. Third, the order of the ten directions: the first eight are the same in both, while for the last two the eighty-fascicle puts above first and below after, and the forty-fascicle below first and above after; and the forty-fascicle's names carry many added graphs. The difference of order and name does not change what is signified—the ten Buddhas of the ten directions are all manifested by one mind—but it shows that the translations each have their own transmission. Fourth, the two limits of past and future: after the seeing of Buddhas at will, the forty-fascicle opens a separate part that sets up the seeing of Buddhas upon the two limits of past and future, concluding that they do not come into the present and that one's mind does not enter that past and future; the eighty-fascicle has no such part, and what it wards off lies on the side of place alone. Reading the two together, one sees that the one sense of ‘no coming or going’ may be said upon both time and place, the eighty-fascicle saying place and the forty-fascicle saying time as well. Fifth, the matching of the four similes: the eighty-fascicle raises only the similes themselves, while in the forty-fascicle each carries its matching—under the dream, that what is seen arises from discrimination and that the seeing of all Buddhas arises from one's own mind; under the image, the water in a vessel and the image in the water; under the illusion, what is made by illusion; under the echo, the empty valley that gives back an echo according to the sound, and the seeing of Buddhas according with mindfulness. The second simile is matched differently in all three texts: the eighty-fascicle takes the Buddha for the reflected image and one's own mind for the water, the forty-fascicle takes one's own mind for the water in a vessel and dharmas for the image in the water, and the sixty-fascicle reads lightning and an image in water. The particular similes Chengguan raises when glossing the dream and the echo, cited above, are word for word the text of the forty-fascicle. Sixth, the part on mind and consciousness: between the conclusion that all is by one's own mind and the ten dharmas for governing the mind, the forty-fascicle opens a long separate part, setting up the names of mind, manas, mental consciousness, and the five consciousnesses of the eye and the rest, and bringing out the words that when the Buddhas and bodhisattvas realize for themselves they turn the ālaya and obtain the wisdom of original awakening, and that the deluded grasp the various marks of activity of the ālaya; the eighty-fascicle has no text of the divisions of mind and consciousness here. This is a teaching-mark that the translation carries; what it actually has is recorded, without pouring it down upon the eighty-fascicle and without judging it as of definitive or non-definitive meaning. Seventh, the variants of the ten cultivations: both texts have ten sentences, three wholly the same (aiding with good dharmas, firmness through vigor, brightness and keenness of wisdom), the other seven all differing; and in the third the eighty-fascicle alone reads purifying and governing upon objective realms while the forty-fascicle reads governing and purifying by the wondrous Dharma—the one said of the objects faced, the other of the dharma used; while in the tenth the forty-fascicle adds the four fearlessnesses besides the ten powers. Taking the seven together, the amplitude of the forty-fascicle does not lie in setting up another dharma but in saying aloud the joints that the eighty-fascicle leaves terse. Taken as a comparison it profits the reader; taken as the base text it loses the attribution.

The four senses he opens out of lightning are worth looking at one by one. The first is the lighting of water so that a reflection appears, spoken in terms of responding to what is ready: the lightning flashes and there is a reflection upon the water's face; it is not that the lightning meant to light anyone, but that the water was there. The second is the breaking of darkness so that the road is seen, spoken in terms of destroying obstruction: the use of lightning is that in one instant it lights up a dark place, and a person thereby sees the road. The third is that it cannot be grasped and held, spoken in terms of being apart from marks and unobstructed: lightning cannot be caught, and just because it cannot be caught it does not become an obstruction. The fourth is that it perishes at once and does not abide, spoken in terms of not being gathered under the world: lightning does not stay, and so it does not fall within the time divisions of the world.

Taking the four together, the first and second speak of what lightning can do—it can make appear and it can break; the third and fourth speak of lightning's mark—no holding and no abiding. To be able and yet not to abide is just the look of the great working of a Buddha. Fazang concludes with one sentence: if the water of the mind is concentrated and clear it can make that image appear, and yet the water has never gone and the lightning has never come, while there is no image that fails to appear. This runs together with what Chengguan's simile of the moon in water gathers up, and yet the likeness each takes is not the same—the one follows the eighty-fascicle text and has a reflected image, the other follows the sixty-fascicle text and has lightning. Recorded without judgment.

Brought down to the ground: the four similes are not four figures of speech; they are four ways of taking ‘coming and going’ apart—the dream takes apart place, the reflected image takes apart going out and coming in, the illusion takes apart real existence, the echo takes apart self and other. Whichever one meets the clinging one has at present is the one to use.

By One's Own Mind: From the One Contemplation of Mindfulness of the Buddha Out to the Myriad Practices and the Myriad Fruits

“Son of good family! You should know that a bodhisattva's cultivating of the dharmas of the Buddhas, purifying of the fields of the Buddhas, gathering up of wondrous practices, taming of beings, giving rise to great vows, entering into the inconceivable gate of liberation of sovereign sporting in all-knowledge, obtaining of the Buddha's awakening, manifesting of great spiritual powers, going everywhere throughout all the Dharma realm of the ten directions, and universal entering into all the kalpas with a minutely fine wisdom—all such things as these are wholly by one's own mind.”

Chengguan judges this to be “taking the mind-only contemplation to run through the myriad dharmas,” and says it with perfect plainness: it is not only the one contemplation of mindfulness of the Buddha that is by one's own mind; the myriad practices of a bodhisattva and the substance and function of the Buddha-fruit are likewise not apart from mind.

This is the third layer of the doctrine of this stretch. The first layer is that the Buddhas seen are by mind; the second layer is that the mind that sees is likewise empty; the third layer is that the whole content of cultivation is wholly gathered under this same ‘by one's own mind.’ What is gathered counts out item by item as ten: one, cultivating the dharmas of the Buddhas; two, purifying the Buddha-fields; three, gathering up wondrous practices; four, taming beings; five, giving rise to great vows; six, entering the gate of the inconceivable liberation of sovereign play in all-knowledge; seven, obtaining the awakening of a Buddha; eight, manifesting great spiritual powers; nine, going everywhere throughout all the Dharma realm of the ten directions; ten, entering universally into all the kalpas with a minutely fine wisdom.

These ten have their order too. The first five are matters of the stage of cause: cultivating the Dharma is the studying, purifying the fields is the place relied upon, gathering up practices is what is accumulated, taming beings is whom one faces, giving rise to vows is the mind one holds. The sixth, entering the gate of liberation, is the pass through which one goes from cause into fruit. The latter four are the working of the stage of fruit: obtaining awakening is what is realized, manifesting spiritual powers is what is used, going everywhere throughout the Dharma realm is the place reached, and entering universally into all the kalpas with a minutely fine wisdom is the time entered—one item of space and one of time, gathered up at the end.

Set aside a misunderstanding: reading to this point one easily reads ‘by one's own mind’ as ‘only a matter of thinking it over in the mind.’ Of the ten matters the sūtra text lists, not one is a thinking over; every one is to be done. Brought down to the ground: mind-only does not do away with practice; it explains why practice can be carried through.

The Ten Sentences on Governing One's Own Mind: This Stretch Is Set There Precisely to Ward Off One Misunderstanding

“Therefore, son of good family, one should aid one's own mind with good dharmas, one should moisten one's own mind with the water of the Dharma, one should purify and govern one's own mind upon objective realms, one should make one's own mind firm with vigor, one should make one's own mind level and open with patience, one should make one's own mind clean and white with the realization of wisdom, one should make one's own mind bright and keen with wisdom, one should open out one's own mind with the sovereignty of the Buddhas, one should make one's own mind vast with the equality of the Buddhas, one should illumine and examine one's own mind with the ten powers of the Buddhas.”

Of the ten sentences nine run ‘one should, with such and such, do such and such to one's own mind,’ while the third reads ‘one should cleanse and govern one's own mind upon objective realms’; and the implement used in each differs: good dharmas, the water of the Dharma, objective realms, vigor, patience, the realization of wisdom, wisdom, the sovereignty of the Buddhas, the equality of the Buddhas, the ten powers of the Buddhas. The first four are practice, the middle three are wisdom, and the last three are the virtues of the ground of the fruit—from the shallow into the deep.

Chengguan judges plainly that “the text has ten sentences,” and glosses them one by one, with something to say upon each of the ten. Of the first sentence he says it is as with a sick man, who cannot rise without a staff, so that when the sickness of the afflictions is heavy one borrows good dharmas to support one—he sets up the lowest figure first, to say why there is still cultivating to be done. Of the second he says that if there were no water of the Dharma the sprout of the Dharma would not grow: roots of goodness are a sprout, and a sprout must be watered. Of the third he says that when one forgets the mind upon an objective realm the six dusts do not defile—what is to be governed is not the realm but the very thought one has when facing it. Of the fourth he says that when the old goodness is unadulterated and new goodness is taken up and cultivated, this may be called firm: the old is not falsified, and the new is added on. Of the fifth he says that when the adverse and the agreeable do not intrude, one is level and wide open—only when neither favorable nor unfavorable circumstances come to disturb is the ground of the mind broad. Of the sixth he says that in the inward realization of still illumining one is bright and without flaw. Of the seventh he says that touching an objective realm one understands it as it is, and there is nothing not discerned: whatever one meets is clear then and there. Of the eighth he says that the six sovereign kings are the same in nature as the Buddha, and that opening the dust and bringing out their function makes knowing and seeing distinct. Of the ninth he says that being of the same suchness as the Buddha, one's substance pervades the Dharma realm. Of the tenth he says that with the ten powers by which beings are tamed one examines and finds what has been let slip—one uses the ten powers to check what one has missed. And at the end he concludes with one sentence: to cultivate the mind in this way is to make full the Buddha-dharma spoken of before.

Look at the order in which these ten are fitted: the first two say why one must cultivate and with what one cultivates; the middle five say how one cultivates upon objective realms (facing the realm, old and new, adverse and agreeable, still illumining, touching the realm); the last three say how far the cultivating goes (the six faculties sovereign, being of one substance with the Buddha, checking oneself by the ten powers). Fazang likewise judges ten sentences here, but the names of his sentences each differ, running: one, lengthening the mind by goodness; two, moistening the mind by the Dharma; three, tempering the mind upon objective realms, and so on.

And what this stretch is truly for, Chengguan lays bare most directly: he judges it to be the concluding exhortation to cultivation and study, saying that since the myriad dharmas are not apart from one's own mind, one cultivates one's own mind alone and the myriad practices are complete; and at the same time that it is to drive off the false understanding of the foolish. What is falsely understood he writes out likewise—some reckon and say that all dharmas are mind, and that letting them go as they are is the Buddha, so that to drive oneself about among the myriad dharmas is surely labor wasted. Chengguan answers it decisively: therefore today he makes it clear at length that the mind, though it is the Buddha, has long been filmed over by the dust of toil, and so one takes the myriad practices to cultivate it further and make it bright and clear; and he says as well that to say the myriad practices are by mind is not to say that not cultivating is right; and further, that since the myriad dharmas are the mind, what does cultivating obstruct in the mind?

Fazang judges this same sense, but says it in terms of cultivation and realization: the realm of the Buddhas pervades all things to begin with, and it is only because the mind's filth is set against it that it is not seen; if one governs one's own mind, causing it to leave obstruction behind and obtain concentration, the realm of the Buddhas appears then and there.

Brought down to the ground: these ten sentences are the guardrail of the whole teaching of mind-only in this stretch. The higher what is said above, the more this guardrail matters—to read “wholly by one's own mind” as meaning that one need not cultivate is precisely the understanding this stretch expressly wards off.

Humbling Himself and Deferring to the Superior: He Knows Only One Gate, and He Can Say What Others Know

“Son of good family! I have obtained entering and coming out only upon this gate of liberation of the Tathāgatas' unobstructed adornment.”—This is a form shared by all the fifty-three visits, and Chengguan outlines it as ‘humbling oneself and deferring to the superior.’

And the content of the deferring repays close looking. He lists what the bodhisattva-mahāsattvas have and he himself has not: obtaining unobstructed wisdom, abiding in unobstructed practice, obtaining the samādhi of constantly seeing all the Buddhas, obtaining the samādhi of not abiding in the limit of nirvāṇa, fully understanding the universal-gate realm of samādhi, being wholly equal toward the dharmas of the three times, being able with skill to divide their bodies throughout all the fields, abiding in the realm of the equality of the Buddhas, the realms of the ten directions being all present before them, observing with wisdom and there being nothing they do not clearly understand, and within their own bodies wholly manifesting the forming and the breaking up of all the worlds and yet not giving rise to a thought of two toward their own bodies and the worlds; and it closes with “of such wondrous practices as these, how could I know or tell?”

Note the virtue deferred to in the last sentence: manifesting the forming and breaking up of worlds within the body, and yet not making a thought of two of one's own body and the worlds. This is precisely the very matter he himself has just manifested, carried one layer further—he can manifest the Buddha-fields of the ten directions within his body, and what is deferred to here is the not giving rise even to the thought of two, of body and of field.

The virtues deferred to count out item by item as eleven, and may be looked at in four cuts. The first two are substance: obtaining unobstructed wisdom and abiding in unobstructed practice—wisdom and practice each set up upon the unobstructed, and those two graphs are the very two in the name of his own dharma gate, which shows that what he defers to is indeed within the one gate. The next two are concentration: obtaining the samādhi of constantly seeing all Buddhas, and obtaining the samādhi of not abiding at the limit of nirvāṇa—the one is the power to see, the other the not abiding; to be able to see and yet not to take the limit of nirvāṇa is where a bodhisattva differs from the two vehicles. The third cut, of three, is the equality of objective realms: penetrating the objective realm of the universal gate of samādhi, being wholly equal toward the dharmas of the three times, being able skillfully to divide his body and pervade all fields—from the realm of concentration, to the equality of the three times, to the body's reaching everywhere. The fourth cut, of four, is the unobstructedness of working: abiding in the objective realm of the equality of all Buddhas, having the objective realms of the ten directions all appear before him, observing with wisdom so that nothing is not clear, and making appear within his body the forming and decaying of all worlds without giving rise to the thought of two.

Reading them one by one, one finds this: not one of the eleven is some other kind of spiritual power outside what he has just manifested; every one of them is what he manifested pressed one layer further in. He can make fields appear within his body, and what he defers to is the forming and decaying of worlds appearing within a body; he can see the Buddhas of the ten directions, and what he defers to is having the objective realms of the ten directions all appear before him; he can enter and come out of this gate, and what he defers to is being wholly equal toward the dharmas of the three times. This is why Fazang says the deferring upward of this stretch belongs to the kind in which “within one's own dharma gate there is something deeper and finer,” and is not a deferring to the dharma of another house.

Fazang distinguishes here a general rule: the looking up and deferring in all these passages is of two kinds—one, that within one's own dharma gate there is something deeper and finer that one cannot oneself know; two, that one defers to a dharma gate of a different kind that one cannot oneself know. He says plainly that this stretch belongs to the former kind. This judgment is very useful—what the Elder Liberation defers to is not another house's Dharma; it is the place where one and the same gate goes deeper.

Set aside a misunderstanding: reading the humbling of himself as courtesy. Every sentence deferred to in the sūtra text names names and can say what the other knows—this is not courtesy; it is knowing where one's own boundary lies. Brought down to the ground: true humility is being able to say clearly the stretch that one does not know.

Pointing to the Next Friend: South, to Look for Ocean Banner

“Son of good family! From here journey south, to the shore of Jambudvīpa, where there is a land named Marigala; there is a monk there named Ocean Banner. Go there and ask him: how is a bodhisattva to study the practice of a bodhisattva and to cultivate the path of a bodhisattva?”

Chengguan has a reading for each of the three proper names here. The shore of Jambudvīpa he says is the southern edge of this continent, signifying that one is soon to border upon non-retrogression; and he says as well that it is the wisdom obtained, being at the hinder edge of the six perfections. Marigala he points out is rendered in the Jin translation as Adornment. The monk's name, Ocean Banner, he says is that the working is deep and wide and stands out high—the mind is upright and unmoving as an ocean, and it is the most lofty and surpassing.

What has to be noticed is the question: the words the Elder Liberation charges Sudhana to go and ask are not one word changed from the words Sudhana just now asked him. This question appears again and again throughout the fifty-three visits, and it is the thread that strings the whole road of the study of the visits together.

Brought down to the ground: the completeness of a good friend lies not only in what he can answer, but in his knowing to whom the person should be handed on next.

Cherishing His Virtue, Bowing, and Taking Leave: Before Going, He Thinks Through Nine Things About the Good Friend

“At this time, the youth Sudhana bowed to the feet of the Elder Liberation, circled him to the right and beheld him, extolled and praised him, pondered and gazed up with longing, and wept and shed tears”—and then a stretch of holding in mind: relying upon the good friend, serving the good friend, revering the good friend, and by the good friend getting sight of all-knowledge; toward the good friend giving rise to no going against him, having no fawning or deceit in mind, having a mind that constantly accords; toward the good friend giving rise to the thought of a kind mother, because it can leave behind all dharmas without benefit; toward the good friend giving rise to the thought of a kind father, because it can bring forth all good dharmas. Only at the end does he “take his leave and go.” What is held in mind, counted sentence by sentence as they actually are, is nine: one, relying upon the good friend; two, serving the good friend; three, revering the good friend; four, by the good friend getting sight of all-knowledge; five, toward the good friend giving rise to no going against him; six, toward the good friend having no fawning or deceit in mind; seven, toward the good friend having a mind that constantly accords; eight, toward the good friend giving rise to the thought of a kind mother; nine, toward the good friend giving rise to the thought of a kind father. What follow, “for the sake of leaving behind all dharmas without benefit” and “for the sake of bringing forth all good dharmas,” are words of reason, attached to the two sentences of the mother-thought and the father-thought, and are not counted as separate matters.

What the thought of a kind mother and the thought of a kind father are attached to must be kept distinct: the mother-thought is attached to ‘leaving behind what is without benefit,’ and the father-thought to ‘bringing forth good dharmas’—the one warding off and the one setting forth, exactly the two sides.

And the placing of this stretch has to be seen as well. It follows upon the pointing to the next friend, and does not follow upon the obtaining of the Dharma—that is to say, cherishing his virtue is not a gratitude that arises for the sake of getting something; it is at the moment of leaving that it is most complete. The road of twelve years above comes first, and the holding in mind of this stretch comes after; another stretch of road is about to begin, and what he carries is precisely these nine sentences.

Brought down to the ground: after studying a stretch of Dharma, what is most worth keeping is often not the name of the dharma gate, but how the heart toward the one who conferred it is to be settled. This stretch is what Sudhana's settling of it looks like.

Lineage

The stream this stretch of text opens below it is not in the treatises, but along two lines, that of the name and that of the sense.

The first is the line of the name. Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang lists the names of the fifty-three good friends, and this good friend stands sixth, with the seventh, the monk Ocean Banner, immediately after him—which agrees with the sentence of the base text pointing to the next friend, and verifies the settling of the order of the visits. As for the name of the stage, ‘the abode of fully endowed skillful means,’ the sūtra text itself has it not; it is a stage assigned by Chengguan following the ancient worthies, and Chengguan's Yanyi chao glosses this stage as carrying the true while according with the common, practicing measureless skillfulness, and transforming without abiding. Whoever speaks of this stage must attribute it plainly to the commentators, and may not take it as a judgment the sūtra text makes of itself.

Zhiyan does not merely list the name of this good friend: his Souxuan ji has another outline, running on a different track from Chengguan's and from Fazang's, and it is best read out separately. He sets this stretch up in three parts: the exhortation of the teaching to go on and enter; entering on in accord with the teaching; and the setting forth of the direct realization of the Dharma realm—the first being what Mañjuśrī's teaching exhorts, the second Sudhana's practicing in accord with the teaching, and only the third the Dharma realm the Elder shows. All three names are set up between ‘teaching’ and ‘realization,’ and may be read alongside Chengguan's six parts (seeking in accord with the teaching, seeing and paying respect and inquiring, directly showing the Dharma realm, and the rest) without standing in for them. The part on entering on he opens again into eight, the last being the inquiry, and within the inquiry three again (making clear what he himself wishes for, praising the virtue, the direct request), which agrees with the order of the stretch in the base text where Sudhana speaks. The part on what he wishes for Zhiyan counts as fifteen sentences seeking the dharmas of the fruit, fourteen seeking the dharmas of the cause, and third the dharmas of practice cultivated in one's own portion; this fifteen and this fourteen attach to the text he is glossing, and are not the same outline as the base text's three parts of thirteen, five, and thirteen—the same stretch of sūtra and two houses counting differently, because the text relied upon and the bounds drawn differ, not because either has miscounted; the reader may not set the two counts side by side and judge one right and one wrong. The part on direct realization he divides in two: telling of the dharma he himself has obtained, and deferring upward; within the obtaining there are three again (making clear the obtaining of the dharma gate, setting forth the matters the dharma gate manifests, concluding the bounds of his understanding), and within the entering of concentration three again (setting forth the entering and its causes and conditions, making clear the virtue of the concentration, setting forth the name of the dharma gate). Most to be noticed is the gate on the matters manifested: Zhiyan judges it as two pairs set against each other—first self and other set one against the other, then mind and object set one against the other; and within mind and object he divides two layers, the true and the common, taking the sentence where the Elder says that the good man should know for the border between them, each layer having a setting up and an exhorting. Chengguan here judges by the general and the particular of the four similes, while Zhiyan sums it up by the single gate of mind and object set one against the other: the one enters by the general and the particular of the similes, the other by the opposition of subject and object; the gates entered differ and what both come home to is mind-only. Both outlines are settled statements of the ancient worthies; they are recorded without judgment.

The second is the line of the sense, and the ancient worthies each take their own. Chengguan takes the one sense of ‘mind-only’ as the bone of this stretch, and therefore his outline sets up its headings everywhere by the mind-only contemplation, and by the stretch on the concluding exhortation to cultivation and study he wards off the fault of ‘letting the mind be is the Buddha’; and he cites two verses from earlier in this sūtra as his grounds, the one the verse on observing the nature of the Dharma realm, all things being made by mind alone, and the other the verse that as the mind is so is the Buddha, and as the Buddha is so are beings—by which it may be seen that the mind-only of this stretch does not arise alone in this stretch, but is the sense of the earlier text of this sūtra taking on a concrete mark of practice at this stage. Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, sets up a five-part outline, sets up four senses upon ‘unobstructed’ without Chengguan's fifth sense of the wisdom that holds, and his second pair of similes follows the sixty-fascicle text in reading lightning rather than the moon in water, so that the gates of sense he opens differ from Chengguan's as well. Li Tongxuan sets up another track, judging this stage to have the pāramitā of dhyāna as its substance with the other nine as companions, taking the Elder Liberation for a layman of the world and thereby signifying dwelling amid the common world while practicing the true, and taking the twelve years of this stretch to reflect back upon the twelve years of the second friend, the monk Ocean Cloud, the one signifying coming forth from the world and the one signifying dwelling amid the common world. What these houses set up each has its own track; they are recorded, without judging which is higher.

Li Tongxuan's track opens four further gates in fascicle thirty-five, glossing the close of this stretch—from the sentence on the bodhisattva mahāsattvas down to the sentence where Sudhana takes his leave and goes—which he judges as four gates: the deferring of virtue to the stage ahead; showing the direction and the land of the good friend; raising the good friend's name; and Sudhana's reverent cherishing, his shedding of tears, and his taking leave. The names of the four gates already show his reading: humbling oneself and deferring to the superior he does not read as words of self-deprecation but as ‘deferring virtue to the stage ahead’—the virtue deferred goes to the stage ahead that is yet to be advanced to, and therefore what follows at once exhorts Sudhana to go on seeking and to apply himself further; the ten kinds of surpassing excellence are the virtue deferred, and the applying is the practice exhorted. Under the gate of direction he glosses the three graphs for the edge of Jambudvīpa and fastens them to the stage: this stage is the abode of the rectified mind, and is the utmost edge of the two kinds of wisdom and spiritual power, that which comes forth from the world and that which dwells amid the world, and therefore the sūtra signifies it by the edge of Jambudvīpa—an edge is a boundary, and one who has come to this stage has brought each of the two functions to its boundary. Under the gate of the name he glosses the two graphs of Ocean Banner: virtue and wisdom are like the ocean, and because they can break the place of beings' karma and delusion he is named a banner; a banner has the sense of demolishing. And of the land named Mārīkara he notes that the Sanskrit original is untranslated—an honest record of what he does not know, not a forced gloss. These four gates do not attach as Chengguan's and Fazang's outlines do: Chengguan's last two parts are the humbling of oneself and the pointing to the next friend, set up by the order of the text, while Li's treatise sets up by stage and by name, and so can press out of the single phrase ‘the edge of Jambudvīpa’ the boundary of the abode of the rectified mind, and out of the single name ‘Ocean Banner’ the sense of demolishing. This is the track of Li's treatise alone; it is recorded, without judging which is higher.

As for the line of consciousness-only and the several treatises of the Huayan house, none of the texts searched has the name of this good friend, and so the lineage of this stretch is seen only in the commentators who gloss it passage by passage.

The answer of one good friend: in its first half he makes no sound, and in its latter half he does not go out of doors. The half that made no sound let a person see the Buddha-fields; the half that made a sound said only one thing—the Buddhas that are seen are all by one's own mind.

When Sudhana Arrived, This Good Friend Did Not Open His Mouth

With the previous five good friends, Sudhana could ask when he arrived and could obtain an answer. By the time he came to the sixth, the monk Ocean Banner, the case had changed: when Sudhana arrived, the man was already within concentration—“entered within samādhi, apart from the breathing out and in, without any separate thought or awareness, his body settled and unmoving.” There was no asking to be done, and he could only stand and look. For how long? Six months and six days more.

A misunderstanding has to be set aside: this is not that Sudhana had bad luck and came at a bad time. Of the three thousand nine hundred characters of this whole section, more than half write out just this ‘looking’—what he saw was that at fourteen places upon the body in concentration measureless assemblies came forth, and throughout the Dharma realm they did their work. That is to say, the way this good friend confers the Dharma is to let a man look at his concentration. When Chengguan outlines this section he marks this point out by itself, saying that this stretch is “slightly different from what has come before, in that one sees at once the substance and function of his entering concentration”—what is unlike the several before is that Sudhana first sees the substance and function and only afterward asks the name.

Brought down to the ground: in reading this section, if one only waits to read the dialogue, one will feel that the first two thousand words and more are preparation. In fact they are the main text.

Holding in Mind the Teaching of the Previous Good Friend: Why He Must Keep Holding It in Mind upon the Road

This section does not begin with walking; it begins with holding in mind. Sudhana “with a single mind rightly held in mind that elder's teaching, observed that elder's teaching,” and then eleven sentences of “that inconceivable”—the gate of liberation, the light of wisdom, the gate of the Dharma realm, the gate of universal entering, the spiritual transformation of the Tathāgatas, the universal entering into the Buddha-fields, the adornment of the powers of the Buddhas, the division and station of the objective realm of samādhi and liberation, the ultimate absence of obstruction among the differing worlds, the firm and deep mind, and the pure work of great vows.

These eleven sentences are not one and the same sentence told eleven times. Each carries a verb of its own, and the verbs themselves make a sequence: first he “holds in mind” the gate of liberation, which is to keep what has been gained; next he “ponders” the light of wisdom, which is to turn upon what has been kept; next he “enters deeply” into the gate of the Dharma realm and “turns toward” the gate of universal entering, which is to enter by pondering and to turn by entering; next he “sees clearly” the spiritual transformations of the Tathāgatas, “understands” the universal entering into the Buddha-fields, and “distinguishes” the adornment of the powers of the Buddhas, where what is seen grows wider and its differences grow finer; next he “ponders” again the division and station of the objective realm of samādhi and liberation and “fully reaches” the ultimate absence of obstruction among the differing worlds, which is to mark off stations and absence of obstruction within that width; and last he “cultivates” the firm and deep mind and “gives rise to” the pure work of great vows, where understanding comes down into practice and vow. What is held in mind is throughout the Dharma of the previous good friend, and yet the holding in mind has its own shallow and deep—this is the sequence a mind ought to have upon the road.

Why hold it in mind in this way? Because what the previous Elder Liberation showed was an objective realm of the “inconceivable”; an inconceivable objective realm cannot be understood on the spot by listening, but only by being carried the whole way along. Fazang outlines this stretch very finely, saying “in the holding in mind, the first two sentences are the general; the ten below are the particulars,” and he judges their order to be the wisdom that enters, the principle that is realized, the virtue that is gathered, and the function that is aroused, then four sentences of fully knowing the ocean of fields, and the last two sentences of receiving and holding the practice of vows.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that study by visiting is a changing of the subject at each station. The sequence of the sūtra text is precisely the reverse—what was gained at the previous station is the provision for walking to the next. Brought down to the ground: what one holds in mind upon that stretch of road after leaving a good friend decides what one will be able to see when one reaches the next.

The Mark of Seeing Him in Concentration: The Side of the Walking Ground Is a Place of Movement

When Sudhana found the man, he saw him “seated cross-legged at the side of the walking ground.” The walking ground is a place for walking about, and yet he sat there in concentration, unmoving. Chengguan set down two layers of turning words upon just this sentence, saying “further, the side of the walking ground is a place of movement. That he has extinguished thought and awareness signifies that it is at once movement and stillness. And that it says ‘the side’ is that he does not abide in walking.”

Within one sentence there are two senses: to sit in a place of movement and be still is to be at once moving and still; to sit at the ‘side’ and not upon the path is not to abide in walking. Put together, this is the doctrine that this good friend would show—that stillness and function are not two stretches of time. Li Tongxuan reads this sentence in the same direction and his words are more direct, saying “it signifies that stillness and function are sovereign; since the walking ground is function and samādhi is stillness, it signifies that upon function there is stillness.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that entering concentration is to put the world down for a stretch of time. If it were so, then sitting in a quiet room would be right—why sit at the edge of the walking path? Brought down to the ground: to examine one's own stillness, one need not look at how long one sits; look at whether it can be parted from that road one walks upon.

Which Kind of Concentration Is This: Chengguan Takes Two Readings Together

“Apart from the breathing out and in, without any separate thought or awareness” is the description of the mark of concentration; then what concentration is this? Chengguan sets down no sole judgment, but takes two readings together. One is the concentration of the cessation of feeling and perception—he says “one is the concentration of the cessation of feeling and perception, that is, without any separate thought or awareness, the seven evolving consciousnesses already stilled, the eighth consciousness alone sustaining the body, and because of the power of the vow of the preparatory practice before the concentration, it causes the many workings to arise from the body in concentration”; the other is the fourth dhyāna—“the second is the fourth dhyāna, because the arousing of function mostly relies upon it,” the reason being that in the fourth dhyāna there is no breathing out and in and no thought or examination, and that the arousing of function mostly relies upon this concentration.

Now the concentration of extinction ought not of itself to arouse function, and just here Chengguan cites a scripture as evidence, saying that the Jingming says “not rising from the concentration of extinction and yet manifesting the many bearings,” and judges “this is precisely it.” And he adds a layer of gloss upon the round teaching: “if it be within the round teaching, because it fuses and gathers the Dharma realm sovereign and unobstructed, its working is without a fixed quarter and has never given rise to a thought.”

Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, judges the substance of the concentration by first setting up the substance—“his body is settled and unmoving, his mind still and without awareness; the seven evolving consciousnesses are already stilled, and the eighth alone sustains the body”—and yet he does not stop there, but goes on to make clear by two senses whence the workings come: first, by the power of the vow in the preparatory practice before the concentration, which “causes the many workings of karma to arise upon the body in concentration”; second, that if it be within the round teaching, the fusing and gathering in of the Dharma realm being sovereign and unobstructed, “the workings are without fixed direction and yet no thought has ever arisen.” Chengguan takes two readings together, while Fazang first sets up the substance of the concentration and after that makes clear its workings: each house keeps its own track.

Brought down to the ground: this stretch is the key to the whole section. The fourteen places from which assemblies come forth below look like a display of spiritual powers, but in fact they are playing out one matter—that where stillness is utter, function does not wait to be aroused.

The General Mark of the Assemblies Coming Forth from Fourteen Places: From Below Upward, Growing Ever More Surpassing

From here on the sūtra text has fourteen stretches, thirteen of them beginning with “from his” such and such a place, and the one stretch of the svastika mark beginning with “from the breast.” Chengguan judges these fourteen stretches in general, saying “in the first, in all there are fourteen places whose workings are not the same. Stated in terms of the general mark, from below upward they grow gradually more surpassing. In the particular, each signifies something different.”

This one judgment gives two measuring rods. One is the rod of the general mark: the soles of the feet, the two knees, the waist … on to the head and the crown, which is the body from below upward; and the assemblies that come forth likewise rise from the worthy men of the world up to the body of a Tathāgata, the two orders answering to each other. The other is the rod of the particular mark: each place has its own sense taken from it, and one sense may not be run through them all.

As to the number, the three houses differ. Fazang likewise counts fourteen, his words reading “in all there are fourteen gates,” and he judges the sense of the first place to be “making clear that at the beginning of cultivation giving is taken for the head”; Zhiyan makes it fifteen places, saying “the light of the body has fifteen places, and the transforming of those Tathāgatas is upon the crown alone.” The difference between fourteen and fifteen does not lie in the sūtra text having more or less, but in the differing ways of dividing the places—it is recorded, and which is right is not judged.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that these fourteen stretches are one and the same matter repeated fourteen times, so that reading one stretch lets one infer the rest. If it were so, Chengguan would not have needed to set down a gloss at each place. Brought down to the ground: in reading these fourteen stretches, two things must be seen at once—where it stands high or low within the whole sequence, and the sense taken from that one place of its own.

From the Soles of the Feet Come Elders · Householders · Brahmins: The Head of the Myriad Practices

The first place is the soles of the feet; what comes forth are elders, householders, and brahmins; what is done is the raining of jewels to rescue the poor and the comforting of the suffering and afflicted. Why the feet? Chengguan gives two senses, saying “the foot has two senses: one, that it is the very first, and it mostly displays the practice of giving, being the head of the myriad practices; two, the sense of walking and abiding, the elder being the elder of walking, the householder obtaining a place to dwell securely, the brahmin being pure in practice, and the accomplishing of awakening being the practice of benefit.”

The first sense is the very first in order of place—of the fourteen places the foot is the head, and so the practice manifested there is likewise the head of the myriad practices, which is giving. The second sense takes the senses of ‘walking’ and ‘abiding’—the elder is the elder among those who walk, the householder obtains a place to abide, and the brahmin is one of pure practice.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that giving stands first because it is the easiest. What is rained down in this stretch of the sūtra text is not wealth and goods only; the last sentence is “to accomplish the path of unsurpassed awakening”—giving in the end is a drawing of men toward the path. Brought down to the ground: if giving does not run through toward the path, it is only half of the first sense.

From the Two Knees Come Kṣatriyas · Brahmins: Bending and Stretching at Will, and Therefore Kindly Speech and Shared Work

The second place is the two knees; what come forth are kṣatriyas and brahmins; what is done is “with kindly speech and with shared work they gathered beings in,” and below it are listed the poor caused to be filled, the sick caused to be healed, those in danger caused to be secure, those in fear caused to be stilled, and those who have grief and suffering all caused to be happy.

Chengguan glosses the sense taken from the knee, saying “the lord of the land and the fields bends and stretches at will. Walking proceeds from the knee, and so pure practice comes forth. It follows next upon the two gatherings before, and so it tells of kindly speech and shared work.” Three layers: the kṣatriya is the lord of the land and the fields, taking the knee's bending and stretching at will; walking is set going by the knee, and so the pure practice of the brahmin comes forth; and the words “it follows next upon the two gatherings before” carry on from the two gatherings already told at the soles of the feet—for at the soles Chengguan has said both “it chiefly displays the practice of giving” and “accomplishing awakening is the practice of benefit,” so that giving and the practice of benefit are both already there at the feet—and so what is told here are the remaining two, kindly speech and shared work.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that gathering beings in is the giving of things. Of the five matters listed in this stretch—poverty, sickness, danger, fear, grief and suffering—only the first is wealth; the other four require that a person be present. Brought down to the ground: the difference between kindly speech and shared work is that the former requires that the right thing be said, and the latter that a person be at one's side.

From the Waist Come Seers: The Place of Breathing Out the Old and Drawing In the New

The third place is the waist; what come forth are “measureless seers equal in number to beings,” some wearing garments of grass and some garments of bark, all of them holding washing-pitchers, and in the open sky they praise the Tathāgatas and expound the dharmas.

Chengguan glosses the waist, saying “third, that from the waist come forth seers: the waist is below the wheel of the navel and between the sea of breath, and it is the place of breathing out the old and drawing in the new, the place from which seers come forth,” and he records its Sanskrit name: “the Sanskrit text says Nabimantuoluo, which here is the wheel of the navel.” The sense taken lies in this, that the waist is the place where the breath is regulated, and that the way of the seers takes the regulating of the breath for its root.

It is to be noticed that the Dharma told in this stretch has four layers: pure brahmacarya, that the dharmas are without intrinsic nature, the rules of the world's discourse, and the essential skillful means by which the knowledge of all-knowledge comes forth and away. The form and appearance of a seer is upon the outside, and yet the Dharma told goes straight to the absence of intrinsic nature and to the knowledge of all-knowledge. Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that to manifest the appearance of one outside the way is to be able to tell only the dharma of those outside the way. Brought down to the ground: the appearance is manifested according with what suits the occasion, and the Dharma is still one's own.

From the Two Sides Come Dragons and Dragon Maidens: The Place of What Is Born Sideways

The fourth place is the two sides; what come forth are inconceivable dragons and inconceivable dragon maidens; what is done is the raining of fourteen kinds of clouds as adornment and offering. Chengguan glosses here most briefly, in one sentence only: “fourth, that from the sides come forth dragons is because they are born sideways.” The sides are at the side of the body, and the dragon is of the kind born sideways, and so the sense of the side is taken.

Li Tongxuan takes another sense, saying “it signifies that the two sides have the sense of covering and sheltering. From within them come forth dragons, because they rain down and moisten beings”—the sides are a covering and sheltering, and the dragon is able to send down rain, and so the sense of moistening is taken. The two glosses each have their own track.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this stretch is only a laying out of adorned appearances. Of the fourteen kinds of clouds rained down, the last are “clouds of the bodies of gods” and “clouds of serving women,” and yet the whole comes down upon “made offering within the places of awakening of the Buddhas, causing all beings to give rise to joy.” Brought down to the ground: the adorned appearance here is not enjoyed by oneself; it is two matters—offering to the Buddhas, and causing beings to rejoice.

From the Svastika Mark upon the Breast Come Asura Kings: The Place Where Pride and Arrogance Are Born and Extinguished

The fifth place is the svastika mark upon the breast; what come forth are asura kings; what is done is the manifesting of sovereign powers of illusion, the shaking of a hundred worlds, the crushing and subduing of the hosts of Māra, and the causing of beings to cast off pride and arrogance, to take away anger and harming, and to break the mountain of the afflictions.

Chengguan glosses this place, saying “fifth, that from the mark of virtue upon the breast asuras come forth: the breast is the place where pride and arrogance and the art of illusion can be born and can be extinguished; and further, it makes clear that the mark of virtue is able to subdue the Māras.” Two senses: the breast is the place from which pride and arrogance and illusion arise and by which they are likewise put down, and so there come forth the asuras, who are renowned for pride and arrogance and illusion; and the svastika being the Buddha's mark of virtue, the mark of virtue is able to subdue the Māras. Li Tongxuan takes a slightly different sense, saying “the breast has the sense of valor, and the svastika has the sense of coolness.”

The awakening in the latter half is set out by the sūtra text in ten sentences, and they are one line running upward: first “causing them to extinguish and take away offenses and evils,” which takes away the evil already done; next “causing them to dread birth-and-death” and “causing them to come forth and away from the destinies of birth,” which is to give rise to weariness with the three realms; next “causing them to be far from defilement and clinging,” which is not to stick to objective realms; and at “causing them to abide securely in the mind of unsurpassed awakening” it turns into the Great Vehicle; below this, “causing them to cultivate all the practices of the bodhisattvas,” “causing them to abide securely in all the pāramitās,” and “causing them to enter all the grounds of the bodhisattvas” are three layers rising—practice, perfection, ground; and last “causing them to observe all the subtle and wondrous dharma gates” and “causing them to fully know the skillful means of all the Buddhas” pass from practice into understanding and from understanding into the skillful means of a Buddha. Awakening is done by the power of illusion, and what is opened up is these ten sentences—illusion is only the place of entry, not the place of abiding.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that to manifest the appearance of an asura is to master evil by evil. What is done in this stretch of the sūtra text is plainly in two halves: the former half shakes and crushes and subdues, and the latter half “again with the power of illusion awakened beings.” Brought down to the ground: what is done by the power of illusion comes down at the last upon “causing them to abide in the mind of unsurpassed awakening”—the means may be illusion, but what it is aimed at may not be.

From the Back Come Śrāvakas · Pratyekabuddhas: Because They Turn Their Backs on the Great Vehicle

The sixth place is the back; what come forth are śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas, with the reason plainly marked—“for the sake of those who ought to be delivered by the two vehicles.” Chengguan glosses this place in four words only: “sixth, that from the back come forth the two vehicles is because they turn their backs on the Great Vehicle.” The back is behind the body, and the two vehicles turn their backs on the Great Vehicle, and so the sense of the back is taken. Li Tongxuan is of the same direction and his words are more extended, saying “it signifies that the back is the quarter in which one turns one's back upon beings.”

The teaching of this stretch lies in its eight counteractings: for those who cling to a self it tells that there is no self; for those who cling to permanence it tells impermanence; for those in whom the conduct of greed is heavy it tells the contemplation of impurity; for those in whom the conduct of hatred is heavy it tells the contemplation of the mind of kindness; for those in whom the conduct of delusion is heavy it tells the contemplation of dependent origination; for those in whom the conducts are in equal portion it tells the dharma of the objective realm that answers to wisdom; for those who love and cling to objective realms it tells the dharma in which there is nothing at all; and for those who love and cling to places of quiet stillness it tells the dharma of giving rise to great vows and universally benefiting all beings.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that “turning the back on the Great Vehicle” is a disparagement. The sūtra text says plainly that this comes forth “for the sake of those who ought to be delivered by the two vehicles”—the capacity to be governed is here, and so the appearance that comes forth is here. Brought down to the ground: the last two sentences are especially to be looked at—for those who love and cling to places of quiet stillness, what is told is the giving rise to great vows; even the craving for stillness is a sickness to be counteracted.

From the Two Shoulders Come Yakṣas · Rākṣasa Kings: Dreadful, and Bearing a Burden

The seventh place is the two shoulders; what come forth are yakṣas and rākṣasa kings, dreadful in form and appearance, and yet what is done is guarding—guarding the beings who practice goodness, and the worthies and sages and the assemblies of bodhisattvas, or appearing as vajra-holding spirits guarding the Buddhas and the places where the Buddhas dwell.

Chengguan glosses the two senses of the shoulder, saying “seventh, that from the shoulders come forth yakṣas and the rest: the shoulder is the place of dreadful and valiant strength; and further, it is the place that bears a burden, and so the work is guarding.” The dreadfulness is stated in terms of appearance, and the bearing of a burden in terms of function; the dreadful appearance is matched to the dreadful assembly, and the function of bearing a burden is matched to the work of guarding.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that a dreadful appearance goes against the work of guarding the Dharma. This stretch of the sūtra text lists “those who had fear, they caused to obtain peace and security”—the one who manifests the dreadful appearance is precisely the one who makes men unafraid. Brought down to the ground: the last sentence of this stretch is “cast off the wheel of birth-and-death and turn the wheel of the right Dharma”; guarding does not stop at keeping men safe—it must turn upon the wheel of the Dharma.

From the Belly Come Kiṃnara · Gandharva Kings: The Place of the Drumming Belly and the Sounding String

The eighth place is the belly; what come forth are kiṃnara kings and gandharva kings together with their women; what is done is the playing of heavenly music and the singing of praise. Chengguan glosses the belly, saying “eighth, that from the belly come forth kiṃnaras and the rest is because it is the place of the drumming belly and the sounding string and of music”—taking the belly to be the place where sound is sent forth and the breath drummed up, and so the spirits of music come forth.

What is sung in this stretch is seven matters, and what is opened up and expounded is seven gates, fourteen sentences in all. The seven of the singing: the real nature of the dharmas, all the Buddhas, giving rise to the mind of awakening, cultivating the practice of a bodhisattva, the gate of accomplishing right awakening, the gate of turning the wheel of the Dharma, and the gate of manifesting spiritual transformation. The seven of the opening up and expounding: the gate of parinirvāṇa, the gate of guarding the teaching of the Buddhas, the gate of causing beings to rejoice, the gate of adorning and purifying the fields of the Buddhas, the gate of displaying the subtle and wondrous dharmas, the gate of casting off obstructions, and the gate of bringing forth roots of goodness.

These fourteen sentences do not stop at a list of names. In the seven of “singing in praise,” what is sung is first “the real nature of the dharmas,” next “all the Buddhas” who realize it, next “giving rise to the mind of awakening” and “cultivating the practice of a bodhisattva,” which belong to the causal ground, and the last three sing three matters of a Buddha—the gate of accomplishing right awakening, the gate of turning the wheel of the Dharma, the gate of manifesting spiritual transformation: from the Dharma to the person, from the cause to the fruit, from the fruit to its function. In the seven of “opening up and expounding,” it begins from the Buddha's “gate of parinirvāṇa,” and next “the gate of guarding the teaching of all the Buddhas”—the passing of the Dharma and the abiding of the Dharma; next “the gate of causing all beings to rejoice” and “the gate of adorning and purifying all the fields of the Buddhas,” two matters, beings and fields; next “the gate of displaying all the subtle and wondrous dharmas,” which is the Dharma told; and last “the gate of casting off and leaving all obstructions” and “the gate of bringing forth all roots of goodness,” one taking away and one giving rise, both coming down upon beings. What is sung is the objective realm praised, and what is told is the gate to be practiced—singing gathers in their delight and desire, telling confers upon them the dharma gate.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that music is fit for praising only and not for telling the Dharma. The sūtra text here sets “singing in praise” and “opening up and expounding” side by side in one and the same stretch. Brought down to the ground: praising and telling the Dharma are here two faces of one matter, the former gathering in their delight and desire, the latter conferring upon them the dharma gate.

From the Face-Gate Come Wheel-Turning Sage Kings: Spreading the Ten Good Deeds to Turn Men Toward the Buddha-Dharma

The ninth place is the face-gate; what come forth are wheel-turning sage kings, complete in the seven jewels and surrounded by the four kinds of army. Chengguan glosses this place, saying “ninth, that from the face-gate come forth wheel-turning kings is because they spread the ten good deeds and turn men toward the Buddha-dharma,” and the Yanyi chao rehearses this saying, “as for the commentary's ‘because they spread the ten good deeds and turn men toward the Buddha-dharma,’ the sūtra text furnishes it of itself, and searching it finely one may know it.”

What is called the sūtra text furnishing it of itself is that the items of the ten good deeds are set out one by one in the sūtra text: cutting off the taking of what is not given, cutting off wrong sexual conduct, not cutting off life (not killing), always speaking words that are real (not lying), not practicing division (no double-tongued speech), being without coarseness or harshness (no harsh speech), not making ornamented speech (no idle talk), and below this the taking away of greed and love, the taking away of anger, and the drawing out of the thorn of wrong views—the three of body, the four of speech, and the three of mind, the ten branches complete.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that the wheel-turning king's practice of the ten good deeds is the governing of the world. Chengguan's judgment has a second half—“to turn men toward the Buddha-dharma.” Brought down to the ground: the ten good deeds here do not stop at the good recompense of men and of gods; they are a stair into the Buddha-dharma.

From the Two Eyes Come Sun-Orbs: The Eye Is Equal to the Sun's Shining

The tenth place is the two eyes; what come forth are sun-orbs; what is done is the shining upon the hells and the evil destinies to make them leave suffering, the shining upon the spaces between the worlds to take away darkness, and the shining upon the beings of the ten directions to make them cast off the film of delusion. Chengguan glosses it most briefly: “tenth, that from the eyes come forth sun-orbs is because the eye is equal to the sun's shining.” The eye and the sun are alike able to shine, and so the sense of their equality is taken.

What is most worth beholding in this stretch is its latter half—upon filthy and turbid lands pure light is sent forth, upon lands of white silver light of the color of yellow gold, upon lands of yellow gold light of the color of white silver, and so with lapis lazuli and crystal, tridacna and agate, Indra-blue and the maṇi king Sun Treasury, red pearl and the maṇi king Moonlight Net Treasury, each pair sending forth to the other; and it closes with “upon lands made of one jewel they sent forth light of the colors of every sort of jewel, and upon lands made of every sort of jewel they sent forth light of the color of one jewel.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that the light must follow the substance it rests upon. The sūtra text here sends it forth crosswise on purpose, and this is precisely to display that what is shone upon does not follow what it rests upon. Brought down to the ground: the last sentence, in which one and many send forth to each other, is where this stretch truly comes down.

From the White Hair Between the Brows Come Śakras: The Most Honored and Surpassing among Those Who Dwell upon the Ground

The eleventh place is the mark of the white hair between the brows; what come forth are Śakras, all of them sovereign over objective realms. Chengguan glosses this place with three senses, saying “eleventh, that from between the brows come forth Śakras is because among those who dwell upon the ground he is the most honored and surpassing; because the wisdom of the Middle Way transforms beings; and because it causes them to leave the five desires and to obtain the pure Dharma.” Between the brows lies in the middle of the two eyes, and so the Middle Way is taken; Śakra is the lord of the gods who dwell upon the ground, and so the most honored and surpassing is taken.

What is done in this stretch falls into two parts: first the six powers—praising the power of merit, proclaiming the power of wisdom, giving rise to their power of delight, upholding their power of aspiration, purifying their power of mindfulness, and making firm the power of the mind of awakening they had given rise to; and after that the three praisings and three causings—praising the delight of seeing the Buddha and causing them to take away the desires of the world, praising the delight of hearing the Dharma and causing them to weary of the objective realms of the world, and praising the delight of contemplating knowledge and causing them to cut off the defilements of the world.

After the three praisings and three causings, the sūtra text sets out six further acts, the last stretch of what is done at this place: “stilled the wars of the asuras” stills strife without, “cut off the quarrels and strife of the afflictions” cuts off strife within; “extinguished the mind that fears death” takes away their dread, “gave rise to the vow to subdue the Māras” raises their vow; “raised up the Sumeru mountain king of the right Dharma” builds the Dharma high, “brought to completion all the work of beings” completes what beings need. The six acts pair two by two—within and without, taking away and raising up, Dharma and beings. The six powers before are the powers given, and these six acts are the work done: powers first, and then work.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that what the lord of the gods transforms still lies within heavenly pleasure. What the three praisings of the sūtra text counteract are precisely the three matters of desire, objective realm, and defilement. Brought down to the ground: the sense taken in this stretch lies in the four words “the wisdom of the Middle Way”—the white hair lies between the two eyes, and that is precisely the sign of not falling to either side.

From the Forehead Come Brahmās: The Place of Bowing the Brow and Requesting the Dharma

The twelfth place is the forehead; what come forth are Brahmās, upright and adorned in color and mark, quiet and still in bearing, beautiful and wondrous in word and sound; what is done is “exhorting the Buddhas to tell the Dharma and praising the merits of the Buddhas.” Chengguan glosses the two senses of the forehead, saying “twelfth, that from the forehead come forth Brahmā kings is because the Brahmā king passes beyond desire and so stands next above the brows; and further, because it is the place of bowing the brow and requesting the Dharma.”

The first sense is a sense of order in place—the Brahmās pass beyond the realm of desire, and so their place stands above that of Śakra between the brows, the lord of the gods who dwell upon the ground. The second sense is a sense taken from the appearance—the forehead is the place that bows and knocks upon the ground, and the very work of the Brahmās is to request the Buddhas to tell the Dharma.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this stretch is the shortest and therefore the lightest. What is manifested at this one place the sūtra text lists as four—exhorting the Buddhas to tell the Dharma, praising the merits of the Buddhas, causing the bodhisattvas all to rejoice, and being able to bring to completion the measureless work of beings—and the requesting of the Dharma stands first among them. And that the Buddha-dharma should abide in the world hangs precisely upon there being someone who requests. Brought down to the ground: of the fourteen places this one alone has ‘requesting’ for its work, and it is a place in the whole stretch that cannot be dispensed with.

From the Head Come Assemblies of Bodhisattvas: Telling the Practice of the Ten Perfections

The thirteenth place is the head; what come forth are assemblies of bodhisattvas as many as the dust motes of measureless Buddha-fields, sending forth boundless light and telling every sort of practice. Chengguan glosses it, saying “thirteenth, that from the head come forth bodhisattvas is because it is the highest and the head. The telling of the practice of the ten perfections is displayed and may be known.” The head is the highest and the head of the body, and so bodhisattvas come forth; and what is told he judges to be the practice of the ten perfections.

Those that the sūtra text marks with their names of itself are six: praising giving, extolling and praising the merit of keeping the precepts, telling the power of patience, praising the practice of vigor, praising the pāramitā of dhyāna, and expounding the prajñā-pāramitā. The four stretches of the sūtra text after these do not bring out the names of the perfections, and yet the marks of the matters are plain—expounding the every sort of work that accords with the world; manifesting spiritual powers and transformations and telling of sovereignty over the span of life so as to make them give rise to great vows; expounding the four powers; and expounding the four knowledges.

Though the last four stretches do not bring out the names of the perfections, the marks of their matters may not be passed over. The first expounds the every sort of work that accords with the world, causing beings, “though they leave birth-and-death behind, to be able to take birth sovereignly within the destinies of birth.” The second manifests spiritual powers and transformations and proclaims sovereignty over the span of life, causing them to give rise to great vows. The third expounds the four powers and the fourth expounds the four knowledges, and the sūtra text brings each of them out by name: the four powers are “the accomplishing of the power of holding-entire,” “the bringing forth of the power of great vows,” “the purifying and governing of the power of samādhi,” and “the power of sovereign birth”; the four knowledges are “the knowledge that universally understands the faculties of beings,” “the knowledge that universally understands all mind-conduct,” “the knowledge that universally understands the ten powers of the Tathāgatas,” and “the knowledge that universally understands the sovereignty of the Buddhas.” The powers are stated in terms of what one can do, the knowledges in terms of what one knows; the four powers and the four knowledges are each a perfection of its own, and the forty-fascicle text sets out the pāramitā of power and the pāramitā of knowledge separately.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that when the six perfections have been told the matter is done. The end of this stretch is the four knowledges, and the end of the four knowledges is “the knowledge that universally understands the sovereignty of the Buddhas.” Brought down to the ground: the practice of the ten perfections closes with knowledge, and if the first nine perfections do not arrive at knowledge, they are still upon the road.

From the Crown of the Head Comes the Body of a Tathāgata: Honored to the Utmost and Unsurpassed

The fourteenth place is the crown; what comes forth is the body of a Tathāgata, “those bodies had no equal, the marks and the accompanying signs pure and adorned,” raining down the rain of Dharma everywhere for all the worlds. Chengguan glosses it in a sense of five words only: “fourteenth, that from the crown comes forth a Buddha is because it is honored to the utmost and unsurpassed.” The crown is the utmost of the body, and so what comes forth is a Buddha.

Chengguan judges the text of this one stretch to be threefold, saying “within the text there are three: first, the general display of the marks of the body and speech that come forth; next, from ‘that is to say’ onward, the separate setting out of the different rains of Dharma; and after that, from ‘in this way’ onward, one sentence gathering it up in general.” The general mark is the two matters of body and speech—the body being blazing in majestic light, and the speech sending forth a wondrous voice filling the Dharma realm; the particular mark is the thirty-two kinds of the rain of Dharma below; and it closes with the one sentence “the work done in this way filled the Dharma realm.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that because the fourteen places reach their highest here, this is the hardest to understand. In fact this stretch has the clearest sequence—the general of body and speech, the particular of the rain of Dharma, and the one sentence that closes, three parts plainly set. Brought down to the ground: in reading this stretch, first divide the three parts and then read the thirty-two particulars, and one will not be drowned by the number.

The Thirty-Two Kinds of the Rain of Dharma: The First Twelve for Bodhisattvas, and Ten among Them Are the Ten Abodes

Upon the separate setting out of the rains of Dharma from the body of the Buddha that comes forth from the crown, Chengguan reckons their number and judges to whom they belong, saying “within the separate setting out of the rains of Dharma, in all there are thirty-two kinds; the first twelve rains of Dharma are for bodhisattvas, and the rest are for the mixed classes.” The first and the last of the first twelve each belong somewhere of their own: the first, universal knowing and equality, Chengguan judges to obtain the three equalities and so to “turn into wondrous awakening”; and of the last he says “the twelfth is the bodhisattvas of the ten faiths.”

Of the ten in the middle Chengguan plainly marks their stage, saying “second, from ‘the rain of Dharma of the universal gate’ onward, the ten rains of Dharma are the ten abodes,” and he glosses the reason for it—“because within the stages of the round teaching, when the stage of the ten abodes is full one becomes a Buddha, and before this there is no separate stage. This is stated in terms of a stage gathering in the stages, which, apart from the One Vehicle school, none of the others states.” And he says as well that these ten are all an exhorting to study and to advance in what surpasses: “the ten dharmas already abide in one's own portion, and so it exhorts them to advance in what surpasses.”

For the first twelve Chengguan attaches a sense to each, and not one is passed over. The first is the universal knowing and equality for the bodhisattvas at the place of awakening, of which he says it “has in brief three equalities”—initial awakening the same as original, equality with the Buddhas, and beings and the Buddha of one nature—and obtaining these three equalities one “turns into wondrous awakening.” The ten in the middle are the ten abodes, counted backward and upward station by station, and every sentence exhorts to advance in what surpasses: the entering of the universal gate for the station of consecration is “the ten kinds of knowledge, equality with the three times and the rest,” and it “exhorts the Buddhas' consecration and causes them to advance in cultivation”; the universal adornment for the station of the prince of the Dharma King is “causing them universally to study the skillful means of the Dharma King and the rest, for the sake of adornment”; the firm mountain for the station of the youth is “causing them to study the knowing of fields and the shaking of fields and the rest, none of which can be broken, for it stands highest”; the ocean treasury for the station of non-retrogression is “causing them to study the ten kinds of vast and deep dharmas—telling that one is many, telling that many are one, and the rest—and so it is named the ocean treasury”; the universal objective realm for the station of accomplishing the rectified mind is “causing them to study that all dharmas are markless and without substance and the rest; since all are so, it is named the universal objective realm”; the gate of self-nature for the station of skillful means fully endowed is “knowing that beings are boundless, on to knowing that beings are without self-nature—all of this is the gate of self-nature”; the according with the world for the station of noble birth is “because the fully knowing of the Dharma of the Buddhas of the three times, complete, is all an according with the world”; the universal compassion and pity for the station of cultivation is “because the observing everywhere of the realm of beings and the rest is for the sake of compassion and pity”; the treasury that gathers and accumulates for those newly in study is “because reciting and studying, much hearing, emptiness and quiet and stillness, drawing near to good friends and the rest are all for the gathering and holding of the practice of the Dharma,” and the reason for the name ‘newly in study’ is that they are “first governing the ground of the mind”; and the gathering in of beings for those who have first given rise to the mind is “causing them diligently to make offering to the Buddhas and to lead the world, for the gathering in of beings.” The last, the inexhaustible objective realm appearing everywhere for faith and understanding, Chengguan judges to be “the bodhisattvas of the ten faiths,” its sense being “causing them universally to take as object the inexhaustible objective realm of the Tathāgata and of Samantabhadra and to give rise to the mind of faith, because it appears before them distinctly and they advance and enter the stage.” The first belongs to wondrous awakening, the last to the ten faiths, and the ten in the middle fall precisely upon the ten abodes—such is the bone of the first twelve of the thirty-two rains of Dharma.

What is to be looked at is the order of these ten sentences: the station of consecration, the station of the prince of the Dharma King, the station of the youth, the station of non-retrogression, the station of accomplishing the rectified mind, the station of skillful means fully endowed, the station of noble birth, the station of cultivation, those newly in study, and those who have first given rise to the mind—counted backward from above downward. And as for that to which Ocean Banner himself is assigned, Chengguan outlines it as “the sixth, Ocean Banner, assigned to the abode of the rectified mind,” which falls precisely upon the sentence “the station of accomplishing the rectified mind” among them.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that the rain of Dharma coming down according with the stage is a giving to each of his own. Chengguan says it plainly: these ten dharmas are all an “exhorting to study” and an “advancing in what surpasses”—they are not a comforting of the stage already reached, but an urging upward. Brought down to the ground: the stage here is not a record of seniority; it is the starting point from which one is exhorted.

The Latter Twenty Rains of Dharma Are for the Mixed Classes: Each Class Has What It Counteracts

The latter twenty rains of Dharma are universally for the mixed classes of men and gods, and Chengguan glosses one by one what each counteracts; all twenty have their gloss, and not one is passed over. The universal gate for the beings of the form realm is “in general, for the beings of the form realm, the casting off of the outer and abiding in the inner, causing them to obtain mind and objective realm unobstructed”; the universal treasury for the Brahmās is “it speaks in particular of the first dhyāna: because by long habit they have much kindness, and yet incline toward their own retinue, it now makes their kindness universal, and the merit it holds is without end”; the bringing forth of power for the Sovereign gods is “that is, the gods of Delight in Others' Emanations turn worldly sovereignty into the sovereignty of the ten powers”; the banner of the mind for the hosts of Māra is “from within the gods of Delight in Others' Emanations the hosts of Māra are set apart: the Māra loves to crush others and to raise himself high, and it now makes him obtain the Dharma banner of the mind of kindness, crushing his own false arrogance”; pure mindfulness for the gods of Delight in Emanations is “following their mindfulness they delight in emanations, which only defiles their own minds, and so it turns them to pure mindfulness”; the bringing forth of intent for the gods of Tuṣita is “though they are content within worldly pleasure, it is fitting that the intent to come forth from the world arise”; joy for the gods of Yāma is “worldly pleasure calls itself glad from time to time, and does not reach the gladness of the joy of the Dharma”; the swift adorning of the realm of open space for the gods of the Thirty-Three is “they are the utmost of those who dwell upon the ground, and they envy the dwellers in space as surpassing, and yet this does not reach the adorning of the emptiness of the nature of dharmas by merit and knowledge”; joy for the yakṣas is “the yakṣa is by nature much given to violence and harm, and so it makes him joyful toward what holds life”; the vajra wheel for the gandharvas is “because they are skilled at playing the sounds of music, and even śrāvakas of high virtue are crushed by it, it now makes them obtain the vajra knowledge, which crushes all and leaves nothing unfulfilled”; the great objective realm for the asuras is “they rely upon their great bodies and give rise to arrogance, and it makes them see the dharma-body, answering to the objective realm of the Dharma realm”; boundless light for the garuḍas is “with pure eyes they watch the sea, minded to swallow the dragons, and it makes them shine everywhere upon what stirs them with the knowing light of kindly eyes”; the surpassing knowledge of all the worlds for the kiṃnaras is “following their skill in song, it makes them obtain the surpassing worldly knowledge that is at once emptiness and passes through existence”; the taking of no delight for the human kings is “the human king clings to pleasure, and so it counteracts that in particular”; the banner of joy for the dragons is “the dragon has much anger and venom, and so joy is told for him,” and further “there is the dread of burning sand and the rest, and the banner of the Dharma is told as able to crush it”; great rest for the mahoragas is “the python has much venom and harm, and is besides gnawed by worms without rest, and so it tells of the inner resting of the venomous mind and the outward resting of suffering”; the adornment of right mindfulness for the beings of the hells is “their bodies feel boundless suffering and their minds hold boundless evil, and if right mindfulness of the Three Jewels be their adornment, then all at once they are freed from the many sufferings”; the treasury of wisdom for the animals is “because animals have much delusion”; fearlessness for the beings of the realm of King Yama is “the demon-officers of Yama dread one another, and even the body of the king has the dread of hot iron and molten copper and the rest”; and universal comforting for those in places of distress and hardship is “that is to say, the eight difficult conditions, and among men those held bound in prison and the like, who are for the most part not at peace, and so it comforts them everywhere and causes them all to obtain entrance into the assemblies of the worthies and sages, overturning that place of hardship.”

Within the twenty sentences there are two places that Chengguan marks off in particular. The one is that the joy for the yakṣas and the joy for the gods of Yāma share a name and differ in sense, of which he says “this states joy in terms of counteracting, while the gods of Yāma before were stated in terms of what suits them”—the one is set up against a sickness, the other given according to what is fitting. The other is that the banner of joy for the dragons holds two matters together: the joy answers to their anger and venom, and the banner answers to their dread of the burning sand; within one name both senses stand.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that to counteract is to press down. Look at Chengguan's one sentence upon the hosts of Māra—it is not to strip away his power of crushing others; it is to “make him obtain the Dharma banner of the mind of kindness,” still a banner, still able to crush, and what is crushed is changed into his own false arrogance. Brought down to the ground: the dharma that counteracts is mostly a turning of direction, not a cutting off.

The Nets of Light from the Pores: One Sentence Gathering Up the Fourteen Places Before

When the fourteen places have been told, the sūtra text gathers them up in one sentence: the monk Ocean Banner again, from all the pores upon his body, sends forth from each and every one of them nets of light as many as the dust motes of asaṃkhyeya Buddha-fields, and each and every net of light is possessed of asaṃkhyeya colors and marks, adornments, objective realms, and works. Chengguan here only judges its place and does not gloss its marks, saying “second, the general display of the working of the light of the pores, which may be known. Thus far the seeing of the marks and function of the concentration is done.”

Why must there be this one sentence? The fourteen places before are “the separate making clear that the workings of the parts of the body differ by place,” and place differs from place; this one sentence is the “general display,” which no longer divides by place. Li Tongxuan reads this sentence and takes its sense to lie in pervading, saying “it signifies that the whole body is entirely the wondrous wisdom of the prajñā-pāramitā of the Dharma realm, the liberation unobstructed in the three emptinesses, and that the light by which beings are taught is layer upon layer without end.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this sentence is only a courteous closing. Each of the fourteen places before has a sense taken from it, and so each has its bound and limit; this sentence takes the pores for its measure, and then there is no place that does not send forth and no place that is not the same. Brought down to the ground: the particular mark displays the differences of what suits the occasion, and the general mark displays that there is no place that is not it.

What Sudhana Looked At: The Ten Sentences of Gazing with Reverence and Entering by Realization

What Sudhana looked at was not a spectacle. From the sūtra text's “with a single mind observed the monk Ocean Banner, and there arose in him a deep thirsting and longing” onward there are nine sentences of pondering, which with the sentence before make ten. Chengguan judges their inner divisions very finely, saying “the first sentence is the pondering of the person and the realizing of the Dharma realm of persons; the remaining sentences are the pondering of the Dharma and the realizing of the Dharma realm of dharmas,” and among the remaining nine he divides again: “the first one sentence is general, that is, samādhi is the substance and liberation is the function, substance and function being made clear together. The second separately ponders that substance. The next two sentences separately ponder that function, the one being the wide and many benefiting of beings, the other being the thoughtless universal pervading, which is at once function and stillness. The next two sentences ponder the causes of the substance and function before, the one being that the inner knowledge is pure, the other being that the outer condition sustains. The last three sentences ponder his advance in what surpasses.”

By this judgment the order of what Sudhana ponders is: first he ponders the person; next he ponders substance and function in general; next he ponders the substance separately; next he ponders two kinds of function (the ocean of skillful means for benefiting beings being the wide and many, and the gate of universal adornment without any making being the thoughtless universal pervading); next he ponders two kinds of cause (the pure knowledge that adorns the Dharma realm being the inner, and the knowledge that receives the sustaining of the Buddhas being the outer); and last he ponders three kinds of advance (the power of sovereignty, the power of great vows, and the power of the many practices).

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that to look at a good friend is to admire him. Of these ten sentences not one is an exclamation; every sentence is an analysis—what the substance is, how many kinds the function has, whether the cause lies within or without, and toward what the advance goes. Brought down to the ground: true gazing with reverence has a structure, and only when the structure can be seen is it called entering by realization.

Six Months and Six Days: Why This Number

Sudhana stood in this way and passed one day and one night, seven days and seven nights, half a month, one month, and on to six months, and passed six days more. Chengguan attaches this number to a stage and to a perfection, saying “as for six months and six days: because within the sixth abode he fulfills the sixth perfection, and because the savor of the Dharma nourishes the spirit, body and mind are wholly forgotten and he does not feel that the time is long”—six months signifying the sixth abode and six days the sixth perfection, and the reason he does not feel the time long being “because the savor of the Dharma nourishes the spirit.”

Li Tongxuan matches them stretch by stretch, and what he matches differs from Chengguan: one day and one night makes clear the pāramitā of giving; seven days and seven nights make clear the precepts of the seven branches; half a month makes clear the pāramitā of patience (“to make clear that patience benefits oneself only and does not benefit others, half a month signifies it”); one month makes clear vigor (“to make clear that vigor benefits both oneself and others”); six months are the sixth abode; and the passing of six days more is the sixth pāramitā. The two statements both stand, each having its own track.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this is written to show that Sudhana had patience. What the sūtra text lists is an increasing order—one day, seven days, half a month, one month, six months, six days; it is a sequence, not a measure of long and short. Brought down to the ground: to stand and look for six months and six days more and yet have “body and mind wholly forgotten” rests not upon patience but upon the savor of the Dharma.

The Ten Sentences of General Praise After the Coming Out of Concentration

Ocean Banner came out of the samādhi, and only then did Sudhana open his mouth. The first stretch is ten sentences of general praise, every sentence beginning with “such a samādhi as this”: the most deep, the most vast, a measureless objective realm, a spiritual power hard to fathom, a light without equal, numberless adornments, a majestic power hard to master, an equal objective realm, shining everywhere upon the ten directions, and benefit without limit.

Chengguan judges the structure of this stretch, saying “first the praising, and after that the asking. In the first, it divides into two: first the marking of the praise of its depth and surpassingness, and after that, from ‘because it is able to extinguish and take away’ onward, the setting out of the grounds of the praise.” The ten sentences are the marking, and the twenty sentences below them are the grounds.

Zhiyan counts the praising of this stretch as eleven sentences, saying “the first eleven sentences praise the virtue of the concentration,” and only below that comes the praising of its working; Chengguan makes it ten, and takes what follows from “because it is able to extinguish and take away” as the grounds. The difference between ten and eleven lies in where the sentences are cut, and each house keeps its own division.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that praise is a word of courtesy. Every one of these ten sentences points at a stretch that Sudhana has just seen with his own eyes—the measureless objective realm answers to the fourteen places, the shining everywhere upon the ten directions answers to the sun-orbs and the rain of Dharma, and the majestic power hard to master answers to the shaking and crushing and subduing of the asuras. Brought down to the ground: praise must come out of what is seen, not out of what is heard; when praise will not come out, it is that one has not yet seen.

The Twenty Sentences of the Grounds of the Praise: From Leaving the Suffering of Poverty to Abiding in the Knowledge of All-Knowledge

After the ten sentences of general praise, the sūtra text leads with “that is to say” into twenty sentences of grounds, all closing with “because.” Their order runs from the coarse to the fine: leaving the suffering of poverty, coming forth from the hells, being spared from the animals, shutting the gates of the many distresses, opening the paths of men and of gods, making men and gods glad, making them love and delight in the objective realms of dhyāna, making the pleasures of the conditioned increase, displaying the pleasure of coming forth from the three kinds of existence, drawing forth the mind of awakening, making the practice of merit and knowledge increase, making the mind of great compassion increase, making the power of great vows arise, making the path of a bodhisattva clear, making the ultimate knowledge adorned, turning toward and entering the objective realm of the Great Vehicle, understanding and illumining the practice of Samantabhadra, realizing the light of the wisdom of the grounds of the bodhisattvas, accomplishing the practice of all the vows of the bodhisattvas, and abiding securely within the objective realm of the knowledge of all-knowledge.

Upon two of these sentences Chengguan sets down a particular note, saying “as for the sentence within it that says ‘it is able to make the pleasures of the conditioned increase,’ it is because he does not cast off the conditioned. ‘The pleasure of coming forth from existence’ is because he is not defiled by existence. Further, the sentence above is for the ordinary man, and the sentence next to it is for the two vehicles. Below it says ‘drawing forth awakening,’ which is for the great vessel.” Three sentences, three capacities, divided most clearly.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that “making the pleasures of the conditioned increase” is not of definitive meaning and ought to be passed over. Chengguan says it plainly: what this sentence attaches to is “he does not cast off the conditioned”—and with the sentence below it, “he is not defiled by existence,” it makes a pair. Brought down to the ground: these twenty sentences are one complete stair, and one may not begin reading from the middle.

The Three Names of the Samādhi: Set Up upon Knowledge · Taking Objective Realm and Knowledge Together · Fusing Both

Sudhana asked the name, and Ocean Banner answered with three names: Universal Eye Relinquishing and Obtaining, Prajñā-pāramitā Objective Realm Pure Light, and Universal Adornment Pure Gate. Chengguan judges that the three names each rest upon something of their own, saying “that there are three names: the first is set up upon knowledge, the next takes objective realm and knowledge together, and the last is named by fusing objective realm and knowledge together.”

The gloss upon the first name: “because the knowledge of wisdom shines upon all dharmas it is named universal eye, and because in all there is nothing obtained it is said relinquishing and obtaining.” Chengguan glosses these two words, relinquishing and obtaining, precisely by there being nothing obtained, saying “if there were something obtained, one could not be at once still and functioning; since there is nothing obtained, there is nothing not obtained.” Below this he further sets out a gloss of the men of old—“of old it was said: that there is no obstruction not stilled is called relinquishing, and that there is no principle not realized is called obtaining”—and himself sets down a judgment upon it: “it is not that this principle is absent, but that it has not reached the profound.” The old gloss is not without its reason; it has only not arrived at the profound. Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, makes a separate gloss of the same two words, saying “that there is no obstruction not exhausted is said to be relinquishing, and that there is no principle not realized is named obtaining.” Three statements stand together—Chengguan's own sense, the gloss of the men of old, and Fazang's separate gloss—and the express judgment is set down upon the statement of the men of old alone. The second name names objective realm and knowledge together, “because wisdom is pure the objective realm is pure.” The third is the fusing of both, “wisdom understands the objective realm, and there is no objective realm that is not wisdom—what then is not adorned?”, and he cites the Zhilun, which says “to tell of knowledge and of the place of knowledge, both are named wisdom.”

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that Sudhana had already cultivated and entered, so why ask the name at all. Chengguan first sets up this difficulty and then unties it himself, saying “it is as when a man of the world obtains the great king's feast; though he eats the surpassing savor, why must he know its name?”—savor and name are two matters to begin with. Brought down to the ground: the asking of the name is not for the sake of knowing, but for the sake of setting what has been realized in its place within the teaching.

Sudhana Asks Again: Is It in the End Only Thus

Sudhana's second question is exceedingly short: “Holy one! Is the objective realm of this samādhi in the end only thus?” Why ask again? Chengguan glosses the reason of this question, saying “as for the question saying ‘only thus,’ what was beheld above he has already in good part cultivated and entered, and beyond seeing and hearing he further hopes for something else to hear”—what he has seen is already much, and so he wishes the more to know what there is beyond what he has seen.

And of Ocean Banner's answer Chengguan judges its character, saying “in the answer that follows, all of it shows what the foregoing did not reach”—what is answered is wholly that portion which could not be seen before.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this question is a want of contentment. The former question asked the name, so as to set in place what has been seen; this question asks the working, so as to search out what has not been seen. Brought down to the ground: the difference between Sudhana's two questions is very clear—the first faces what he has already seen, and the second faces what his seeing and hearing have not yet reached.

The Twenty-Two Sentences upon the Working: The Three Worlds, and in All of Them No Obstruction

Ocean Banner answers upon the working in twenty-two sentences, every sentence closing with “there is no obstruction.” Chengguan judges its text to be threefold, and this is precisely the division of the three worlds, saying “within it there are three: first the making clear that there is no obstruction in the world of vessels; next, from ‘he sees all the Buddhas’ onward, that there is no obstruction in the world of right awakening and knowledge; and after that, from ‘gathers in with great compassion’ onward, that there is no obstruction in the world of beings,” and he adds one sentence, “and the seeing of the Buddhas within it is likewise for the sake of gathering in beings.”

By this judgment the first six sentences are the world of vessels—fully knowing, going to, passing beyond, adorning, cultivating and governing, and adorning and purifying all worlds; the middle ten sentences are the world of right awakening and knowledge—seeing the Buddhas, observing the majestic virtue of the Buddhas, knowing the spiritual power of the Buddhas, realizing the vast powers of the Buddhas, entering the ocean of the merits of the Buddhas, receiving the wondrous Dharma of the Buddhas, cultivating wondrous practice within the Dharma of the Buddhas, realizing the equal knowledge by which the Buddhas turn the wheel of the Dharma, entering the ocean of the assemblies and places of awakening of the Buddhas, and observing the Dharma of the Buddhas of the ten directions; and the last six sentences are the world of beings—gathering in with great compassion, constantly giving rise to great kindness, being never satiated in seeing the Buddhas, entering the ocean of beings, knowing the ocean of the faculties of beings, and the knowledge of the differences among the faculties of beings.

Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, likewise divides by the three worlds, and yet his number is twenty-three sentences: “the first six sentences make clear his sovereignty in the world of vessels,” “eleven sentences below make clear his sovereignty in the world of right awakening and knowledge,” “six sentences below make clear his sovereignty in the world of beings.” Six, eleven, six as against the eighty-fascicle text's six, ten, six—a difference of one sentence in the middle; while Li Tongxuan, upon the eighty-fascicle text, says plainly that he “tells twenty-two kinds of unobstructed dharmas.” The number of each house attaches to the text it rests upon; recorded without judgment.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that “there is no obstruction” is a boasting of ability. The verbs set out in the twenty-two sentences are fully knowing, going to, adorning, seeing, realizing, entering, receiving, and gathering in—all of them words of doing work. Brought down to the ground: to be unobstructed is not to be unlimited; it is to do work within these three fields and not be blocked.

Humbling Himself and Deferring to the Superior: I Know Only This One

After the answer upon the working, Ocean Banner says at once, “Son of good family! I know only this one light of the samādhi of prajñā-pāramitā.” This is a stretch that most of the good friends of this assembly have. Chengguan judges its structure, saying “third, within humbling oneself and deferring to the superior: first the humbling of oneself as knowing one; after that, from ‘as for the’ onward, the deferring to the superior, within which there are two: first the raising of what they know, and after that, from ‘how then could I’ onward, the displaying that he cannot fathom it.”

Fazang gathers from writing of this kind two sorts, saying “now the looking up and deferring in all these passages is of two kinds: one, that within one's own dharma gate there is something deeper and finer that one cannot oneself know, as in this passage and in the stages before it; two, deferring to a dharma gate of a different kind that one cannot oneself know.” The example Fazang raises for himself is “this passage and the stages before it,” and below it he says further that “all the passages above and below are to be known by this,” without separately marking to which kind Ocean Banner belongs. Such is the dividing of the two kinds; it is recorded without judgment.

The text of deferring to the superior falls into two halves, each with its own number. First it raises what they know, and the sūtra text sets out ten matters: “entering the ocean of wisdom,” “purifying the objective realm of the Dharma realm,” “reaching every destiny,” “pervading measureless fields,” “sovereign in holding-entire,” “pure in samādhi,” “vast in spiritual penetration,” “inexhaustible in eloquence,” “skilled in telling the grounds,” “a reliance for beings”—from the substance of knowledge to its objective realm, to the destinies and fields it pervades, to the holding-entire and samādhi it keeps, to the penetration and eloquence it uses, to the grounds it tells, and last coming down upon being a reliance for beings. Next it displays what he cannot do, and the sūtra text sets out eleven matters: to know their wondrous practices, to distinguish their merits, to understand what they practice, to make clear their objective realms, to exhaust their power of vows, to enter their essential gate, to reach what they realize, to tell their portion of the path, to abide in their samādhi, to see their mind and objective realm, and to obtain the equal wisdom that they have—the verbs run from “knowing” to “obtaining,” and the last, “to obtain the equal wisdom that they have,” gathers it up in equal wisdom. Ten matters of their virtue and eleven matters he cannot do: the numbers are unequal, and they need not be forced to match.

Fazang divides this further into three stretches—the first one sentence general, next the particular, third the conclusion that he cannot know—and says “since he does not know even the practice by which virtue is built up through accumulated practice, how much less the virtue so built.” Zhiyan for his part sets up a question here: “since the bodhisattva already has the virtues complete, why must he look up and defer?” and answers it with two senses—“one, that the assigning of the stages does not answer to one another, and therefore he must defer; two, that the gates of samādhi assigned are separate, and it gives rise to a surpassing aspiration.” The one is the reason of the assigned stage, the other the reason of arousing aspiration: deferring to the superior is not mere courtesy, but something the dharma gate of assigned stages itself requires.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that this is a courteous self-effacement. If it were self-effacement, why should there follow eleven sentences of “how then could I know their wondrous practices, distinguish their merits …”—every one of which points out one particular thing he cannot do. Brought down to the ground: to know which one it is that one knows is harder than to know a great deal.

Pointing to the Next Friend: The Place Named Ocean Tide, the Grove Named Universal Adornment, the Friend Named Fulfilled Vow

Ocean Banner points Sudhana southward and shows three names: the dwelling place Ocean Tide, the grove Universal Adornment, and the laywoman Fulfilled Vow. Chengguan has a gloss upon each of the three names. Of the name of the place, Ocean Tide, he first says “it only says that there is a place, and so it is still the former land,” and then glosses its sense: “as for saying Ocean Tide, that is, the place the tide reaches, displaying that skillful means, meeting what suits the occasion, does not pass beyond its bound.” The tide has a place it reaches and places it does not reach, which signifies exactly that the answering of skillful means to what suits the occasion has its bound. And he adds one sense further: “it is likewise because he is about to enter the ocean of birth-and-death so as to save things.”

Of the name of the grove, Universal Adornment, Chengguan divides it in terms of appearance and in terms of signification: “stated in terms of appearance, it is because there are widely many adornments; stated in terms of signification, it is because birth-and-death is taken for the garden and the myriad practices for the adornment.” Of the name of the friend, Fulfilled Vow, he transmits three renderings: “this here means intent and delight, and it is also said hoping, and it is also said fulfilling the vow, that is, because the intent and delight and hoping of beings obtain fulfillment.”

In glossing the name of the place, Ocean Tide, Chengguan has one further sentence that matters: “displaying that the practice of skillful means is not apart from wisdom.” The Yanyi chao sets out the reason for this, saying “since the understanding of the conventional comes by realizing the true, therefore subsequent knowledge is spoken of, making clear that it is not apart”—skillful means is subsequent knowledge, and the reason subsequent knowledge is not apart from wisdom is precisely that the power to understand the conventional comes from realizing the true; a telling of the conventional cut off from the realizing of the true would not be subsequent knowledge at all. Chengguan says further of Ocean Tide that it is “because he is able to know the ocean of the Dharma of the Buddhas of the three times,” and therefore the dharma gate of the section above is named “the ocean treasury”; and here the Chao rehearses a text from elsewhere in this sūtra as its ground: this bodhisattva should be exhorted to study ten kinds of vast dharmas, and those dharmas are set out as five pairs—“telling that one is many and telling that many are one” is the pair of one and many; “the letter following upon the sense and the sense following upon the letter” is the pair of letter and sense; “what is not existent is existent and what is existent is not existent” is the pair of existent and not existent; “the markless is the mark and the mark is the markless” is the pair of mark and markless; “what is without nature is nature and nature is without nature” is the pair of nature and without nature. All five pairs are two ends that are at once each other, and for that reason it is named the vast ocean of the Dharma—and from this the name “ocean treasury” is set up.

And as for why this stage is a monk and the next stage a laywoman, Chengguan sets down one sentence directly: “because the wisdom before understands the true, it is assigned to a monk; because this one enters the common world by the skillful means of a kindly mind, it is assigned to a laywoman.” The judgment of what a stage is assigned to is Chengguan's outline received from the ancient worthies, and is not marked by the sūtra text of itself. Brought down to the ground: this one turn from monk to laywoman is a turn from understanding the true to entering the common world.

Cherishing His Virtue, Bowing, and Taking Leave: What He Obtained from This One

The last stretch is Sudhana's taking of leave. The sūtra text first lists what he obtained—obtaining a firm body, gaining the wealth of the wondrous Dharma, entering deep objective realms, his wisdom bright and clear, his samādhi shining, abiding in a pure understanding, getting sight of the deep Dharma, his mind abiding securely in the many pure gates, and the light of his wisdom filling the ten directions; next it lists the acts of respect he performed—casting the five parts of his body to the ground, bowing to his feet, circling him measureless times, and gazing up with reverence; and last it lists what he held—holding his name, calling to mind his bearing, holding in mind his voice, pondering his samādhi and the objective realm practiced by his great vows, and receiving the pure light of his wisdom.

Chengguan's outline of this section stops at the pointing to the next friend, and for this stretch he sets up no separate heading.

Set aside a misunderstanding: the notion that cherishing his virtue, bowing, and taking leave is a set phrase. What is held in this stretch is five matters, and their order is the name, the bearing, the voice, the samādhi and the objective realm of the great vows, and the pure light of wisdom—from the outward appearance inward to what is realized. Brought down to the ground: what one carries away when leaving a good friend decides whether he still counts as a good friend upon oneself.

Lineage

The text of this section opens five lines of flow onward.

The first is the line of a stage gathering in the stages. Fazang's Huayan jing zhigui takes this section for an example, saying that within the ten abodes and the rest each gathers in all the stages and each is possessed of two gates. As for the two gates, the Zhigui marks their names itself: the one is “the gate in which the whole mark of a stage is it,” that is, one stage is wholly every stage, and therefore “where the ten faiths are full one becomes a Buddha at once”; the other is “the gate in which the stages support one another,” that is, within one stage every stage is possessed, “as within the ten faiths there are the ten abodes and on to the ten grounds.” The former tells identity, the latter possession: with identity there is no order of stages to divide, with possession stage supports stage—both are a gathering in of stages, but the one is told crosswise and the other upright. And Chengguan, among the thirty-two rains of Dharma, judges ten rains of Dharma to be the ten abodes, and says that this is stated in terms of a stage gathering in the stages. What the two houses set up is one and the same axis—that within one stage all stages are gathered in, and this is the most essential sentence for reading this section in the line of the Huayan house.

The second is the line of distinguishing the śrāvakas. Fazang's Huayan yisheng jiaoyi fenqi zhang discusses why śrāvakas are present in the ninth assembly, and what its base text tells is that the six thousand monks gathered in outside the assembly by Mañjuśrī are not the assembly cited before, that all of them are already within the three vehicles, and that they are turned toward the One Vehicle; while other witnesses keep at the same place a further reading, that these are not those śrāvakas and are to be measured by such as the monk Ocean Banner—taking the śrāvakas that come forth from his back as the standard of the distinguishing. What the base text points to is the six thousand monks gathered in outside the assembly by Mañjuśrī, and what the variant reading points to is the śrāvakas that come forth from the back of Ocean Banner, taken as the standard of the distinguishing: the two do not point to the same thing. Its context above and below belongs to a different stretch of discussion and is not a gloss upon this section; both readings are recorded, and which is right is not judged.

The third is the line of the divergent glosses of the several houses, each having its own track, recorded without judgment. As to the outline of this section, Chengguan marks “the text has but five,” and yet within his gloss he separately names four—holding the teaching in mind and seeking on; seeing, paying respect, and inquiring (divided into the seeing and paying respect first and the inquiring after, this latter half being what is called “second, the direct making clear of the inquiring”); humbling oneself and deferring to the superior; and pointing to the next friend. The fifth heading, upon the last stretch, Chengguan does not separately name within his gloss upon this section; this is recorded as it stands, and is not supplied in his stead. Fazang, upon the sixty-fascicle text, opens seven gates under “the right receiving of samādhi”; Zhiyan makes three stretches and within the right realization opens five again; and Li Tongxuan marks off word for word the beginning and end of this stretch of the sūtra text and “divides it in brief into five gates,” opening five further gates for the advancing upward, and setting up twenty-three dharma gates upon the ocean of assemblies coming forth from the body. As to the gloss upon the name Ocean Banner, Fazang transmits two statements of the men of old, one saying that the concentration is deep as an ocean and the knowledge surpassing as a banner, and one saying that the body in concentration standing out alone is named a banner and its workings being many is called an ocean; and Li Tongxuan says “to make clear that, stated in terms of virtue, the wisdom is like an ocean, and that it is able to break the place of the karma and confusion of beings, it is named a banner. A banner has the sense of crushing and ruining.” As to the judgment of the substance of the concentration, Chengguan takes together the two readings of the concentration of the cessation of feeling and perception and of the fourth dhyāna, while Li Tongxuan says directly “it is not like the two vehicles, who make a realization of quiescent extinction,” and does not divide two concentrations. As to what six months and six days signify, Chengguan attaches them to the one sense of fulfilling the sixth perfection within the sixth abode, and Li Tongxuan matches them stretch by stretch to six items. As to the number of the sentences upon the working, Li Tongxuan calls them twenty-two kinds of unobstructed dharmas. Li Tongxuan further sets up a statement in terms of principal and companions, holding that at this stage “the prajñā-pāramitā is principal and the other nine are companions,” and that the counteracting of principal and companions has two gates: “stated in terms of the gate of knowledge, all the stages counteract in common,” so that told from the side of knowledge every stage counteracts the sickness; “the sixth pāramitā counteracts in particular the obstruction by which stillness and function are not sovereign, whether in the world or beyond it,” so that told from the side of the stages this one perfection counteracts in particular the obstruction of stillness and function not being sovereign. He points out as well that the kindness and compassion of this stage has its bound—“he obtains only the kindness of pure practice undefiled, and does not obtain the doing of the same practice as beings and the same affairs as beings without a single thing going against them”—and therefore the next stage takes a laywoman to signify the kindness that enters the common world, while this stage takes a monk to signify the undefiled kindness beyond the world. These divergent glosses are all settled statements of the ancient worthies.

The fourth is a line of judgment upon the concentration of cessation, and it comes from Zhiyan. The chapter on the concentration of cessation in his Huayan jing kongmu zhang divides that concentration into three: the One Vehicle, the three vehicles, and the lesser vehicle. In judging the sense of the One Vehicle he takes this very section as his evidence, saying “as when the monk Ocean Banner entered the concentration of cessation and, upon his own body, sent forth clouds of Dharma-realm bodies benefiting beings”—function accomplished upon the substance of his own body, without waiting to transform into a different body. For the three vehicles, “upon one's own body the accomplishing of function is not spoken of; rather one transforms into a different body,” and a different body must be borrowed before the function of benefiting others is accomplished. For the lesser vehicle there is “no mark of going together and benefiting others,” and even that mark is absent. What divides the three judgments is precisely whether function can be accomplished upon the substance itself—and the assemblies coming forth at fourteen places in this section and doing their work throughout the Dharma realm are exactly the pattern of function accomplished upon the substance. In the same chapter Zhiyan further divides the substance and the stage of obtaining. As to the substance: the concentration of cessation of the One Vehicle takes the Dharma realm for its substance, while the substance of the concentration of the three vehicles is suchness, the real nature. As to the obtaining: if stated in terms of the stages of the lesser vehicle, twelve persons obtain it; in the round teaching it is obtained at six stations; if stated in terms of those who advance straight on in the initial teaching and the like and turn the mind about, it is obtained as at the seventh ground; and if it be those who turn the mind about from the mature teaching and the like, then according to the marks of the stations of the separate ten grounds of the round teaching it is obtained at the eighth ground, obtaining that concentration of cessation of the One Vehicle—the ground of which is that the concentration of cessation of the three vehicles has already been obtained before. Thus the stage of obtaining in each teaching is told bound to its own condition, and not as one rule for all.

The fifth is the line in which the three translations are read against one another. This section is preserved in full in the forty-fascicle text as well, and it and the eighty-fascicle text have each what the other has not. The village he comes to reads in the forty-fascicle text “the village Without Defilement.” After the entering of concentration the forty-fascicle text sets up a separate stretch marking in general the ground of the body-clouds, which the eighty-fascicle text has not. In the counteractings of the two vehicles from the back the forty-fascicle text has nine pairs, more than the eight of the eighty. In the ten perfections told from the head, the eighty-fascicle text brings out the names of six and leaves the last four stretches without the names, while the forty-fascicle text marks all ten one by one, its text several times broader. In the stretch of the nets of light from the pores the forty-fascicle text opens a further stretch, in which Sudhana sees within the nets of light the practice of the ten perfections that Ocean Banner cultivated of old, which the eighty-fascicle text likewise has not. The third name of the samādhi reads in the forty-fascicle text “the Equal and Pure Universal Adornment Gate,” two graphs longer. And the name of the next friend is not Fulfilled Vow in the forty-fascicle text but the king's consort, the laywoman Īśānā, though the grove is alike named Universal Adornment. Among the thirty-two rains of Dharma those who receive the Dharma differ as well—the first of the heavenly classes is the beings of the form realm in the eighty-fascicle text, and the gods of the formless realm in the forty-fascicle text: not only are the names of what is rained broader, but the capacities that are reached differ. Each of the three keeps what is its own, and none is altered to match another.

Of the text of one section, the former half is looking and the latter half is asking. Only after looking six months and six days more could those two sentences be asked—the sequence of this section lies wholly upon this one word ‘only.’

Beginning from Three Likenesses: Sudhana Himself Says What a Good Friend Is

The opening of this visit does not write the road; it writes a stretch of what is in Sudhana's heart. He says that it is because there is a good friend that he is made to see the Buddha, and because there is a good friend that he is made to hear the Dharma; and then three likenesses follow one upon another—the good friend is his teacher, because he shows and guides him in the dharmas of the Buddhas; the good friend is his eyes, because he causes him to see the Buddha as boundless as empty space; the good friend is his ford and ferry, because he enables him to enter the lotus pool of the Buddhas, the Tathāgatas.

What has to be asked is this: are the three likenesses one thing said three times over? They are not. The verb tied to the teacher is showing and guiding—it is the pointing out of the road to you; the verb tied to the eyes is seeing—it is your own seeing for yourself; the ford and ferry is the boat-crossing at a ford, and the verb tied to it is entering—it is your own walking in. Pointing, seeing, entering: layer by layer they come nearer, and the last of them is the one where you go into the water yourself.

One misreading has to be set aside: reading the good friend as ‘the one who practices in my stead.’ Not one of the three likenesses of the sūtra text says that the good friend crosses to the far shore for you; all three say that he makes it possible for you to get there yourself. Brought down to the ground: examine which of the three likenesses your own reliance upon a teacher falls under—if it stops at ‘he speaks and I listen,’ it is still at the first likeness; the two layers of the eyes and the ford are ones you must move for yourself.

Chengguan outlines this as the first of six stretches, seeking in accord with the teaching, and points out that this stretch has ten sentences, the first five being the narration of those who compiled the sūtra and only the latter five being the content of what Sudhana calls to mind.

Journeying South to Sea Tide: Why One Garden Has to Be Written at Such Length

Sudhana journeyed south little by little, came to the place called Sea Tide, and saw the garden Universal Adornment. From this sentence on, the sūtra text uses about a quarter of its length to write this garden—the jewel trees (one general sentence first, and seven kinds listed separately after it), the halls and storied pavilions, the bathing pools, the water of the eight virtues, the water birds, the jewel tāla trees, the jewel canopies, the jewel banners, and the ponds.

What has to be asked is this: in a sūtra that teaches people to give rise to the mind of awakening, why spend so many words upon scenery? By the sequence the sūtra text sets out for itself, this stretch falls upon the ‘seeing’ of seeing, paying respect, and inquiring—Sudhana has not yet opened his mouth; first of all he looks. And looks at what? At the objective realm in which this good friend dwells. A person's objective realm and his practice are the two faces of one thing: her dharma gate is ‘whoever sees me does not fall back,’ and so her dwelling place is written from the first as a place where all who walk into it receive its use.

The stretch on the jewel trees sets up one general sentence first—all the jewel trees, standing in rows and ranks, adorned it—and only below it lists seven kinds separately: jewel flower trees, jewel incense trees, jewel garland trees, maṇi-jewel-king trees, jewel garment trees, music trees, and trees of adorning things. These seven kinds are set out one kind at a time not for the sake of display. Look closely and every one of the seven has an action tied to it—the jewel flower trees rain down wondrous flowers, the jewel incense trees send their fragrance dense and rising, the jewel garland trees rain down great jewel garlands, the music trees become sound when the wind stirs them—the trees are not furnishings; the trees are giving. From its very first sentence the whole garden is bestowing. Brought down to the ground: do not skip the stretch on the environing reward, for it is writing the field that a practitioner forms.

Chengguan outlines this as the first portion of the second stretch, seeing, paying respect, and inquiring, and judges that the environing reward has ten matters of adornment, of which the first is the encircling of the jewel wall.

The Ground Is Pure, with No High and Low: What the Halls and Pools of the Garden Are Saying

That the ground is pure, with no unevenness of high and low—this sentence is the eye of the stretch. Below it come a million halls, a million storied pavilions, a million palaces, ten thousand bathing pools, railings of the seven jewels, stairways of the seven jewels, and water of the eight virtues, laid out in the extreme of abundance; and yet a sentence saying there is no high and low is set up first.

What has to be asked is this: what is the relation between that sentence and the adornment that follows it? The more abundant the adornment, the more easily a view of high and low arises—this one is good and that one is not, this hall surpasses that hall. The sūtra text cuts off that road first: the ground is level.

Look again at the stretch on the water of the eight virtues: the water's fragrance is like the sandalwood of the heavens, golden sand is spread over the bottom, jewel pearls are set in among one another—and within the water the wild ducks, the geese, and the peacocks send forth harmonious and refined sounds, while the golden bells upon the jewel tāla trees constantly send forth wondrous sounds. Adornment, at the very end, comes to rest upon sound.

The Palace Banner of Adornment and the Jewel Lotus Seats: The Place Where the Good Friend Sits

Halfway through the writing of the environing reward, the sūtra text gathers in upon one place—in the garden there is also a vast palace, named Banner of Adornment. This hall has a name; the million halls before it have no names. To have a name is to be looked at by itself.

Chengguan judges this as ‘adorning and spreading the palace and the seat,’ and says that this separately makes clear the place where the good friend sits, writing the palace first and the seat after. The palace has wondrous jewels of the ocean treasury for its ground, beryl jewels for its pillars, Jambūnada gold covering it above, and light-treasury maṇi for its adornment, and to these are added the incense king Aruṇa and the incense king Awakening, perfuming everything everywhere. Of the seats it says first that measureless jewel lotus seats are spread out in rows all around, and then brings out ten names—from the maṇi-jewel lotus seat Shining upon the Ten Directions down to the maṇi-jewel lotus seat Vajra Lion.

What has to be asked is this: since the sūtra text plainly says the seats are measureless, why does it then bring out only ten names? Ten in this sūtra is the number of fullness, not a measurement—of measureless seats ten names are raised to show their kinds; it is not that there are exactly ten seats to be counted. What this shows forth is precisely the measurelessness of the place of sitting: the Dharma is open, not occupied. Brought down to the ground: see the contrast of ‘the palace has but one name while the seats are measureless,’ and you have seen the bone of this stretch—what one dwells in should be single, and what one opens should be wide.

Canopies, Nets, and Lights: Why Each of the Three Groups of ‘Namely’ Lists More Than Ten Kinds

Three stretches then follow with exactly the same sentence pattern: in the garden there are also a million kinds of canopy, namely … canopies of every sort such as these, their number a million; there are a million great jewel nets covering it over above, namely … nets of every sort such as these, their number a million; there are a million great lights shining there, namely … lights of every sort such as these, their number a million. The canopies are listed as twelve kinds, the nets as ten, the lights as ten.

What has to be asked is this: since it says their number is a million, why list these ten or so kinds first? This is precisely one of the teaching methods of this sūtra—first it gives you what you can count, and then it tells you what cannot be counted. If it only said a million, that would be a number heard and done with; but let you read down the list one item at a time (garment canopies, garland canopies, incense canopies, flower canopies, branch canopies …), and by the twelfth item you are already tired—and only then do the four words saying their number is a million carry weight.

Look again at the sequence of the three groups: canopies are what covers above, nets are what covers it over above, and lights are what shines. From dense to open, from screening to letting through—canopies and nets are things that screen, and the last group is light. Screening reaches its extreme and light comes through: the arrangement itself is speaking. Brought down to the ground: in reading the sentence groups of ‘namely,’ read every item to the end, and do not jump to ‘every sort such as these.’ Jump over them, and the stretch has been written for nothing.

The Ten Sentences of Constant Raining: This Garden Is Constantly Giving

The three groups listed out, the sūtra text turns into ten sentences of ‘a million’: a million kinds of adorning things are constantly rained down, and below that black sandalwood incense sending forth wondrous sounds, mandārava flowers scattered about, necklaces used as adornment, wondrous jewel garland-sashes hanging down everywhere, wondrous garments of many colors, and the wondrous light of variously colored maṇi jewels shining everywhere; then a million sons of the gods gazing up and bowing, a million palace women casting their bodies down out of empty space, and the last sentence, a million bodhisattvas reverently drawing near and constantly delighting to hear the Dharma.

What has to be asked is this: how do these ten sentences differ from the adornment before them? Before, it wrote ‘there is’; here it writes ‘constantly rained down’—not set out there, but falling down without cease. And the sequence of the ten sentences goes from things to persons: the first seven are things (adorning things, incense, flowers, necklaces, garland-sashes, garments, light), and the last three are persons (sons of the gods, palace women, bodhisattvas), while the last sentence comes to rest upon constantly delighting to hear the Dharma.

So the end point of the whole stretch on the environing reward is not the jewels; it is that there are people there listening to the Dharma. Chengguan judges the last of these ten matters as ‘the ordinary and the holy gladly revering,’ and this is just his meaning. Brought down to the ground: what one looks at last in the adornment of a place of the way is not what it has, but whether there are people there whose minds are at rest in listening to the Dharma.

Her Bodily Marks: The Retinue Bending Their Bodies, and the Beings of the Ten Directions Coming

At that time the laywoman Fulfilled Vow was sitting upon a seat of true gold—here the stretch on the direct reward begins. The sūtra text writes that she wears a crown of ocean-treasury pearl nets, wears bracelets of true gold and jewels, her hair hanging down dark blue, her head adorned with a great maṇi net, maṇi jewels of the lion's mouth for her earrings, wish-fulfilling maṇi jewel kings for her necklace, and all the jewel nets hanging down and covering her body; and then that a hundred thousand koṭis of nayutas of beings bend their bodies in reverence.

What has to be asked is this: why is a laywoman written as being so splendid? Here is precisely where the signifying of this visit is tied. The six visits before were to a monk, to a good physician, and to elders; this visit is to a woman living at home. Chengguan, at the end of the previous visit, already points out the reason for it—because she enters the common world, she is assigned to a laywoman. Since she enters the common world, she must display the marks that are within the common world; if she did not display common marks, the sense of entering the common world would fall empty. Her necklace is not a thing that obstructs the way; it is an implement for entering the common world.

Below this the coming of the beings of the ten directions is written: from the east the Brahmā gods, the gods of Brahmā's Multitude, the Great Brahmā gods, the gods of Brahmā's Ministers, the Sovereign gods, and so on up to all humans and nonhumans, and from the south, the west, and the north, from the four intermediate directions, from above and from below, all likewise. Chengguan judges this as ‘the ten directions gathering like clouds and looking up.’ Brought down to the ground: the breadth of those transformed comes from the entering into the common world of the one who transforms—had she not been within the common world, these people of the common world would not have come.

The Ten Sentences on the Benefit of Seeing: What Happens in the Body of One Who Sees Her

Everything from ‘for all who see this laywoman’ onward is the most essential stretch of this visit. The sūtra text lists them: all sicknesses and pains wholly removed and extinguished; the defilement of the afflictions left far behind; the thorns of the various views pulled out; the mountain of obstruction broken down; entering the pure objective realm where there is no obstruction; all the roots of good increased and made bright; the various faculties nourished and grown; entering every gate of wisdom and entering every gate of dhāraṇī; every gate of samādhi, of great vows, of wondrous practice, and of merit all made to appear before them; and the mind vast, complete in spiritual penetrations, the body without obstruction, reaching every place.

What has to be asked is this: are these ten sentences laid out side by side? They are not; they are one ascending line. First removing (sickness and pain, the defilement of the afflictions, the thorns of views, the mountain of obstruction), next entering (the pure objective realm where there is no obstruction), next growing (the roots of good, the faculties), next appearing before one (the six gates from the gate of wisdom and the gate of dhāraṇī onward), and last pervading (the body without obstruction, reaching every place). Removing, entering, growing, appearing, pervading—this is a complete sequence, written out as one string.

Among them the sentence about the thorns of the various views being pulled out deserves notice: views are spoken of as thorns. The thorn is not outside; it is stuck into one's own body, and so pulling out a view is not exchanging it for another way of seeing—it is taking out the thing that is stuck in. Brought down to the ground: these ten sentences can be taken as a mirror—after drawing near to a good friend, look and see which of these five stages you yourself have reached.

Sudhana's Question: Two Layers Within Three Sentences

Sudhana entered the garden, observed everywhere, saw her sitting upon a wondrous seat, went forward and bowed his head to her feet, circled her measureless times, and then said: Holy one, he had already given rise, before this, to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, yet he did not know how a bodhisattva is to study the practice of a bodhisattva, and how he is to cultivate the path of a bodhisattva; he had heard that the holy one was well able to draw others on and instruct them, and prayed that she would tell it for him.

What has to be asked is this: why does he first report that he has already given rise to the mind of awakening? This sentence recurs throughout all of Sudhana's visits; it is a fixed pattern, and a fixed pattern has its own sense—before asking about the Dharma, he first states where he himself stands. He has given rise to the mind, and so what he asks after is the practice and the path, not whether one should give rise to the mind at all. Were the mind not yet given rise to and he asked about the practice, what he asked would not stand.

Look again at the difference between the two questions: studying the practice of a bodhisattva is stated in terms of the practice cultivated, and cultivating the path of a bodhisattva is stated in terms of the road walked; the one is the matter, the other the course. The two questions put down together call for an answer that has both content and sequence. Brought down to the ground: the quality of the asking settles the quality of the answering. To say plainly first where one stands, and then to ask—this is what Sudhana demonstrates at every visit.

I Have Obtained Only One Gate of Liberation: The Substance and Function of This Visit's Dharma Gate

The first sentence Fulfilled Vow speaks is that she has obtained only one gate of liberation of the bodhisattvas, and immediately upon it she states its function—if there are those who see her, hear of her, call her to mind, dwell together with her, or provide for her, none of it will be wasted.

What has to be asked is this: how can the words ‘not wasted’ serve as the substance and function of a dharma gate? To be wasted is to be spent for nothing. She says that of all who come into relation with her—seeing, hearing, calling to mind, dwelling together, providing—not one is spent for nothing. Chengguan judges this as the general raising of substance and function, and says that the function shown forth under the name of this dharma gate is held in the words ‘not in vain.’

Here is a place easily read askew: it is not that she has a spiritual power that makes people gain benefit, but that her practice has reached a degree at which whoever comes into contact with her must receive its use. This is why the text below says that the Buddhas of the ten directions constantly come to tell her the Dharma—her objective realm is already like this. Brought down to the ground: the degree to which a person has cultivated is measured not by what he can do, but by what happens to others when they meet him.

Those Who Cannot See Me: One Sentence of Showing in Reverse

Son of good family, if there are beings who do not plant roots of good, who are not gathered in by good friends, and who are not held in mind and guarded by the Buddhas, such a person can never in the end see her—this is the one sentence in the whole stretch stated from the reverse side. Only after it does the positive side follow: all beings who are able to see her obtain non-retrogression in anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.

What has to be asked is this: why speak first of those who cannot see her? Chengguan judges this section as ‘making clear the function of benefiting beings not in vain, first in reverse and then in order,’ and points out why the reverse showing is set up—that all who see her do not fall back shows forth that if one obtains the skillful means, one arrives at the abode of non-retrogression. That is to say, this one turn of reverse and one turn of order is explaining why the stage to which this visit is assigned is the abode of non-retrogression.

In what, then, does non-retrogression not fall back? Chengguan's Chao, under the sentence on being assigned to the abode of non-retrogression, further sets out why: this stage enters the principle of the ultimate emptiness of non-arising, thought after thought constantly practices emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness, and carries stopping and observing on together, so that outer conditions cannot destroy it and it is limpid as a clear ocean. What has to be asked is this: why must the two be carried on together for there to be no falling back? Stopping without observing gives strong concentration with no clarity of wisdom, and when the scene changes one is turned by the scene; observing without stopping sees clearly while the mind does not rest, and when something happens one is scattered still. Stopping and observing carried on together is to see clearly and to sit firm at once—both present together, and outer conditions cannot push. And the closing likeness, limpid as a clear ocean, matters most: an ocean is clear not because there is no wind but because it is deep. Brought down to the ground: ask which kind your own non-retrogression is—not having fallen back because nothing has happened, or having met what happens and not been pushed.

One misreading has to be set aside: reading ‘can never in the end see’ as her refusing people. Of the three conditions the sūtra text lists—not planting roots of good, not being gathered in by good friends, not being held in mind and guarded by the Buddhas—not one is something she does; all of them are that person's own causes and conditions not yet being complete. Not to see her is not to be barred outside the gate; it is not yet to have walked as far as the gate. Brought down to the ground: when one does not meet a good friend, what should be examined are these three, not the lack of opportunity to be complained of.

The Buddhas of the Ten Directions Constantly Come Here: What Her Daily Round Is Like

Son of good family, the Buddhas of the east constantly come here and, seated upon jewel seats, tell her the Dharma; and below this all the Buddhas of the south, the west, and the north, of the four intermediate directions, of above and of below likewise come; and then one sentence gathers it up—she is constantly not apart from seeing the Buddhas and hearing the Dharma, and dwells together with the bodhisattvas.

What has to be asked is this: is this boasting? Chengguan judges this as ‘the function whereby the benefit of the Buddhas is extended to beings,’ and explains its principle—because she dwells together with the Three Jewels, those who dwell with her are all of them not in vain. That is to say, this stretch does not say that her standing is high; it says that within her dwelling place the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Saṅgha are already there, and so those who dwell here are at the same time within the Three Jewels. The stretch before said that dwelling together with her is not wasted; only here is the reason for it given.

Look again at the words ‘constantly not apart’: it is not that she constantly goes to see the Buddhas, but that the Buddhas constantly come here. Brought down to the ground: if a practitioner's daily round is already the seeing of Buddhas and the hearing of the Dharma, then whoever draws near to him naturally enters that daily round as well—and this is the actual ground of why this visit can say ‘whoever sees me does not fall back.’

Eighty-Four Thousand Koṭis of Nayutas: The People in the Garden All Do Not Fall Back

Son of good family, the great assembly here with her numbers eighty-four thousand koṭis of nayutas, all of them practicing together with her in this garden, all of them having obtained non-retrogression in anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi; and at the end one further sentence is added—the remaining beings who dwell in this garden have all likewise entered everywhere into the stage of non-retrogression.

What has to be asked is this: that those who practice together do not fall back is understandable, but why do ‘the remaining beings who dwell in this garden’ also not fall back? Chengguan judges this as ‘citing proof of not being in vain,’ saying that those who now dwell together with her all do not fall back, which proves precisely that the earlier sentence about dwelling together with her not being wasted is no empty word.

Here two ranks of people are distinguished: one rank practices together with her, and one rank merely dwells in this garden. The former are practicing in common; the latter are only living within it. And the sūtra text says that the latter too enter everywhere into the stage of non-retrogression. Brought down to the ground: this sentence is speaking of the strength of an environment. Practicing together is of course better, but even merely staying there brings benefit—and so to choose one's place and dwell there is itself a part of practice. This also answers precisely why the stretch on the environing reward before was written at such length.

How Long Ago Did She Give Rise to the Mind: Ten Buddhas and Thirty-Six Gaṅgā's Sands

Sudhana asked whether it was long ago or lately that the holy one gave rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi. The manner of her answer is remarkable—she does not speak of time; she speaks of Buddhas. She calls to mind that in the past, in the presence of the Buddha Lamp Lighter, she cultivated the practice of purity, reverently made offerings, and heard the Dharma and upheld it; and below that the Buddha Free from Defilement, the Buddha Wondrous Banner, the Buddha Surpassing Sumeru, the Buddha Treasury of Lotus Virtue, the Buddha Vairocana, the Buddha Universal Eye, the Buddha Brahmā Life Span, the Buddha Vajra Qi, and the Buddha Poluona Deva, pushed back one by one; and then she says in general that in this way, one after another, in the presence of Buddhas as many as the sands of thirty-six Gaṅgā rivers, she served them all, reverently made offerings, heard the Dharma and upheld it, and purely cultivated the practice of purity; and closes off what lies behind with one sentence—what lies before that is what the knowledge of a Buddha knows, and is not what she is able to fathom.

What has to be asked is this: why is the number thirty-six taken in particular? Chengguan speaks first from the shallow and near side: thirty-six Gaṅgās in all means that the Buddhas she has been near are already many and that she gave rise to the mind long ago. Then he says why this number is taken—it shows forth that she has already passed the six prior stages, and that in every stage she cultivated the six perfections complete, six times six being thirty-six, all of them the virtues of the nature as many as the Gaṅgā's sands. Thirty-six is not a measurement; it is the cross-multiplying of the six stages by the six perfections. He notes as well that the Niepan also has this number. The Yanyi chao then distinguishes whence that number comes: what is meant is the sense of the four reliances told in the sixth fascicle of the Niepan, in the chapter on the nature of the Tathāgata, and there one finds only the heaping up of one to eight—from giving rise to the mind in the presence of Buddhas as many as the sands of one Gaṅgā up to those of eight—and no such number as thirty-six. Thirty-six is arrived at by accumulating step by step: upon one add two and it is three, upon three add three and it is six, upon six add four and it is ten, upon ten add five and it is fifteen, upon fifteen add six and it is twenty-one, upon twenty-one add seven and it is twenty-eight, upon twenty-eight add eight and it is thirty-six. And so the sub-commentator marks it himself as a taking of the sense, and then says at once that in principle it must be so: the number is not the plain text of that sūtra, and yet in principle it cannot be otherwise. What has to be asked is this: if it is a taking of the sense, why not simply say one to eight? Because what is taken is not that sūtra's number but a place where the cross-multiplying of the six stages by the six perfections can be pointed to; the heaping up in that sūtra answers to it exactly, and so it is taken over unaltered. Brought down to the ground: in reading the numbers of the ancient worthies, first tell apart which are plainly listed in the sūtra text and which the commentaries and sub-commentaries have drawn out in principle—both may be used, but they may not be confused.

And the last sentence, that it is not what she is able to fathom, is the most essential thing in this stretch. It is not that she does not know how long she has cultivated; it is that she knows this matter has no fathomable floor to begin with. Brought down to the ground: ask a practitioner ‘how long have you cultivated,’ and if he can answer with a number, that number is most likely his boundary.

The Eleven Sentences of ‘Without Measure’: Why the Giving Rise of the Mind Has No First Limit

Having answered by causes and conditions, she answers once more in another manner: the bodhisattva's first giving rise of the mind is without measure, because it fills the whole Dharma realm; and below that the ten sentences each set up their own reason—the gate of great compassion is without measure, because it enters into every world; the gate of great vows is without measure, because it reaches to the end of the Dharma realm of the ten directions; the gate of great kindness is without measure, because it covers over all beings; the practice cultivated is without measure, because it is cultivated in all lands and in all kalpas; the power of samādhi is without measure, because it makes the bodhisattva path not fall back; the power of dhāraṇī is without measure, because it can hold every world; the power of the light of knowledge is without measure, because it can enter into the three times everywhere; the power of spiritual penetration is without measure, because it manifests every net of lands; the power of eloquence is without measure, because with one sound all alike understand—with the last sentence saying that the bodhisattva's pure body is without measure because it wholly pervades all the Buddha-fields; eleven sentences, each of them first setting up that it is without measure and then tying a ‘because’ to it.

These eleven ‘becauses’ are not one reason said eleven times over; the principle each sentence is tied to is different, and taken together they make a sequence. The first giving rise of the mind is tied to the filling of the whole Dharma realm, which is stated in terms of the measure of the giving rise of the mind itself. The next three are tied to the breadth of what is taken as object: great compassion to entering into every world—as wide as the world is, so wide is compassion; great vows to reaching the end of the Dharma realm of the ten directions—the edge of the vow is the edge of the Dharma realm; great kindness to covering over all beings. The fifth, the practice cultivated, is tied to all lands and all kalpas, and is stated in terms of length of time and place: not only everywhere, but always. The five below turn to five powers, each with its own working: the power of samādhi is tied to making the bodhisattva path not fall back—concentration is the root of not falling back, and the stage assigned in this visit is precisely the abode of non-retrogression, so this sentence answers to the name of the whole visit; the power of dhāraṇī is tied to holding every world—what is held is not only the sentences of the Dharma but the world, and so dhāraṇī is not a good memory but a capacity to bear; the power of the light of knowledge is tied to entering into the three times, for what it illumines is not one moment but three times; the power of spiritual penetration is tied to manifesting every net of lands; and the power of eloquence is tied to all alike understanding at one sound, so that eloquence does not lie in many words. The last sentence ties the pure body to pervading all the Buddha-fields, gathering the measure of the mind back into the pervading of the body.

Setting aside a misreading: do not read these eleven sentences as a list of eleven virtues. It is not a list but one line running from mind to object to time and place to the working of the powers to the body—because the giving rise of the mind is measureless, what it takes as object is measureless; because the object is measureless, the time and place are measureless; because the time and place are measureless, the working of the powers is measureless; and because the working is measureless, the body too is measureless. Brought down to the ground: if your own power of concentration, of holding, of eloquence feels bounded, look back first to the opening sentence—the measure comes from the giving rise of the mind.

What has to be asked is this: how do these eleven sentences stand to the thirty-six Gaṅgā's sands before them? Chengguan judges the former as answering in terms of causes and conditions and this stretch as answering in terms of the measure of the mind, and says its intent is to show forth that the giving rise of the mind is commensurate with the Dharma realm. He goes a step further: beings too have no first limit, having craving out of delusion; and the bodhisattva's giving rise of the mind, since delusion and craving have no first, likewise has no end.

This sentence should be read slowly. No starting point can be found for the delusion and craving of beings—you cannot say at which moment you began to be deluded. The bodhisattva's giving rise of the mind arises precisely facing that delusion and craving; and since delusion and craving have no first, the giving rise of the mind has no first either, and having no first it has no end. And so the very manner of asking ‘far or near’ is here dissolved. Brought down to the ground: do not measure your own mind of the way by time. Whatever can be measured is a thing that has a first and an end.

Not for the Sake of … Does He Give Rise to the Mind of Awakening: Twenty-Four Sentences of Showing in Reverse

Sudhana asked again how long it would yet be before the holy one obtained anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi. Her answer is a long string of negations, beginning from ‘a bodhisattva does not give rise to the mind of awakening for the sake of teaching, transforming, and taming one being’—one being, a hundred beings, and so on up to beings as many as unspeakably unspeakable turnings; the beings of one world, the beings of worlds as many as the dust motes of a Jambudvīpa, the beings of worlds as many as the dust motes of a three-thousandfold great-thousand world-system; making offerings to one Tathāgata and so on up to Tathāgatas as many as unspeakably unspeakable turnings; adorning and purifying one world and so on up to worlds as many as unspeakably unspeakable turnings; abiding in and upholding the Dharma left behind by one Tathāgata and so on up to the Dharma left behind by the Tathāgatas of worlds as many as unspeakably unspeakable turnings.

Chengguan judges this as explaining in reverse that there is no bounding limit, and divides the twenty-four sentences into four groups—the first eight on transforming beings, the next six on making offerings to Buddhas, the next four on adorning lands, and the last six on upholding the Dharma.

What has to be asked is this: since even unspeakably unspeakable turnings are negated, then for the sake of what does one give rise to the mind at all? The key lies in the sentence pattern. What it negates is not largeness or smallness of quantity; it is the very thing of ‘giving rise to the mind for the sake of a fixed quantity.’ However large you make the quantity it is all the same—so long as it is a quantity it has an edge; having an edge, there is a day when it is filled; and there being a day when it is filled, there is a day when one stops.

After this, from ‘to speak of it in brief in this way, not for the sake of fulfilling the vow of one Buddha’ onward, twelve more sentences gather it up, from fulfilling a Buddha's vow, going to a Buddha's land, entering a Buddha's assembly, holding a Buddha's Dharma eye, and turning a Buddha's Dharma wheel, on to knowing the sequence of the kalpas of a world and knowing a being's mind-ocean, faculty-ocean, karma-ocean, practice-ocean, affliction-ocean, and ocean of the habit-energies of the afflictions. Brought down to the ground: examine whether your own giving rise of the mind has an ‘once such and such is done, it will be all right’ in it—that ‘it will be all right’ is exactly the thing this stretch negates.

Wishing … Wholly Without Remainder, He Gives Rise to the Mind of Awakening: Fourteen Sentences of Explaining in Order

The reverse showing finished, the sūtra text turns the page: because he wishes to teach, transform, and tame all beings, wholly without remainder, he gives rise to the mind of awakening; and below that, to serve and make offerings to all the Buddhas, to adorn and purify the lands of all the Buddhas, to guard and uphold the true teaching of all the Buddhas, to accomplish and fulfill the vows of all the Tathāgatas, to go to the lands of all the Buddhas, to enter the assemblies of all the Buddhas, to know the sequence of the kalpas within all the worlds, to know the mind-ocean of all beings, to know the faculty-ocean of all beings, to know the karma-ocean of all beings, to know the practice-ocean of all beings, to extinguish the various affliction-oceans of all beings, and to pull out the ocean of the habit-energies of the afflictions of all beings—fourteen sentences, each of them setting ‘all’ against the ‘one’ before, and each of them closing with ‘wholly without remainder.’ Chengguan judges this as explaining in order that there is no bounding limit, and says that it too has a particular and a general.

What has to be asked is this: which is greater, ‘all’ or ‘unspeakably unspeakable turnings’? Spoken of as a number, the latter is greater beyond comparison; but the former is without edge, while the latter is still a number. This is precisely the point of the long string laid out in the stretch before—to push number to the very limit of what a person can imagine, and then let you see that it is still finite, and only then to say ‘all’ and ‘wholly without remainder.’

Look again at how the fourteen sentences divide the work among themselves: they are not fourteen items of one kind. The first eight are what is practiced—teaching and transforming, making offerings, adorning and purifying, guarding and upholding, accomplishing the vows, going to the lands, entering the assemblies, knowing the sequence of the kalpas. The middle four are the four oceans that are known—the mind-ocean, the faculty-ocean, the karma-ocean, the practice-ocean. The last two are what is cut off: one says to extinguish the various affliction-oceans of all beings, the other to pull out the ocean of the habit-energies of the afflictions of all beings.

What has to be asked is this: why are four oceans listed for what is known, while what is cut off is divided into afflictions and habit-energies? The four oceans are four faces of a being: the mind is what he now delights in, the faculties are what he can bear to receive, the karma is what he has already done, and the practice is the road he is now walking—without knowing these four faces there is no place to lay hold of in teaching him, and so the four oceans are tied to knowing. And what is cut off is divided in two because the afflictions are what is presently arising, while the habit-energies are what remains in force after the present arising has been subdued: for the afflictions the word is extinguish, for the habit-energies it is pull out—extinguishing stops their present arising, pulling out takes them up by the root. This one word's difference is the same hand at work as in the earlier sentence of this visit on pulling out the thorns of views: a thorn not pulled out leaves a wound that never truly heals.

Brought down to the ground: look at your own knowledge of a person—do you know only one face, or all four, mind, faculties, karma, and practice? And then look at how you handle a habit-energy: is it enough for you that the present arising has been held down, or have you truly pulled up the root?

At the end she gathers it in herself: son of good family, to take up what is essential and speak of it, it is by such practices of skillful means as these, a million asaṃkhyeyas of them, that the bodhisattva gives rise to the mind of awakening. Brought down to the ground: read these two stretches through and the standard for giving rise to the mind is clear—it is not how large it is given rise to, but whether anything is left over. Leave a little outside, and it is still a quantity.

Only Then Will My Vow Be Exhausted: A Vow That Will Never Be Exhausted

The explaining in order gathered up, the sūtra text gives its conclusion: son of good family, the practice of the bodhisattva enters everywhere into all dharmas because he realizes them all, and enters everywhere into all lands because he adorns and purifies them all. And then comes the most famous sentence of this visit—only when all worlds have been adorned and purified to exhaustion will her vow be exhausted; only when the habit-energies of the afflictions of all beings have been pulled out to exhaustion will her vow be fulfilled.

Chengguan judges this as the general conclusion that there is no exhaustion, and says that it is the same as the ten sentences of no exhaustion in the first ground, beings being without exhaustion and therefore the becoming of a Buddha having no date. And here a difficulty arises: if beings are without exhaustion, would that not mean never becoming a Buddha? Chengguan sets the question for himself and answers it with four sentences. The first states, in terms of the thickness and thinness of causes and conditions set against the present exhaustlessness, that there is a beginning and no accomplishing—this is stated in terms of the gate of compassion, that one obtains the fruit and yet does not cast away the cause. The second states, in terms of giving rise to the mind commensurately with the Dharma realm, that only not seeing a first mark is true accomplishing, so that there is no beginning and yet an end—this is stated in terms of knowledge. The third makes compassion and knowledge clear together: because the marks are not destroyed, beginning and end are not hindered. The fourth, stated in terms of what is commensurate with the nature, is that there is neither end nor beginning. He cites as well the words of the goddess, that only because of the words and numbers of the common world are the three times said to exist, and not that awakening has a past, a future, and a present; and closes with one sentence—if one wishes to accomplish, then thought after thought one accomplishes, and constantly accomplishing and constantly not accomplishing there is no obstruction.

Brought down to the ground: to give rise to a vow that will never be fulfilled is not to torment oneself; it is to take ‘accomplishing’ out of time. Thought after thought one is accomplishing, and so there is no need to ask on which day it is accomplished.

The Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security: Two Layers of Meaning

Sudhana's third question: holy one, what is this liberation named? The answer: son of good family, this liberation is named the Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security.

What has to be asked is this: how are these words to be taken apart? Chengguan says plainly that there are two senses. The first sense is stated in terms of those transformed—all who see her leave behind the suffering of karma and delusion and do not fall back from awakening, and this is freedom from sorrow and security; while the banner takes the sense of great compassion standing high and showing far, the mind of compassion set up high and showing far, and so it is called a banner. The second sense is stated in terms of the mutual identity of compassion and knowledge in the one who transforms—compassion that is itself knowledge, and so she can wade through suffering and yet be secure; knowledge that is itself compassion, and so she can pass through many kalpas and yet be free from sorrow; birth-and-death and nirvāṇa are both broken down together, and she stands out beyond the ordinary and the two vehicles, and so it is named a banner.

The second sense is the deepest layer of this visit. If compassion is not itself knowledge, wading through suffering will end in being drowned by suffering; if knowledge is not itself compassion, freedom from sorrow becomes coldness. Only when the two are mutually identical is there a person who wades through suffering and is secure, who passes through many kalpas and is free from sorrow. And the sentence about both birth-and-death and nirvāṇa being broken down is especially to the point—not only does she not abide in birth-and-death, she does not abide in nirvāṇa either; the banner is high precisely because it falls to neither of the two sides. Brought down to the ground: ask whether there is knowledge within your own compassion, and compassion within your knowledge. Lacking either side, this banner cannot be raised.

Ten Likenesses and One Sentence of Humbling Herself

Having told the name of the Dharma, she says at once that she knows only this one gate of liberation, and then with ten likenesses defers to the great bodhisattvas: the mind like the ocean (able to receive and hold all the Buddha-dharmas), like Mount Sumeru (aim and intent firm and not to be shaken), like the medicine Well Seen, able to remove the heavy sickness of the afflictions of beings, like the bright and pure sun (able to break the dark obstruction of ignorance), like the great earth (able to be the place of reliance for beings), like a good wind (able to work the benefit and welfare of beings), like a bright lamp (able to give rise to the light of wisdom for beings), like a great cloud (able to rain down for beings the dharma of quiescent cessation), like the pure moon (able to send forth for beings the light of merit), and like Śakra, all of them able to guard and protect all beings; and she closes with one question—how could she know, or be able to tell of, their practice of merit?

What has to be asked is this: do the ten likenesses have a sequence? The ocean and Sumeru are stated in terms of their own substance—the one able to contain, the other unmoving; the medicine and the sun are stated in terms of removing obstruction—the one removing sickness, the other breaking darkness; the earth, the wind, the lamp, the cloud, and the moon are stated in terms of giving—a place of reliance, benefit and welfare, the light of wisdom, the rain of the Dharma, the light of merit; and Śakra is stated in terms of guarding. Own substance, removing obstruction, giving, guarding—four layers.

Chengguan, at this outline, writes only the eight words that the fourth is humbling oneself and deferring to the superior, which can be known, and sets up no separate gloss. Brought down to the ground: humbling oneself and deferring to the superior appears at the end of every one of Sudhana's visits, and reading many of them one slides past it easily. Its work is to move the reader's eye away from this one good friend and onto the whole road—every one you meet is only one stretch of this road.

Pointing to the Next Friend: The Land of Narasu and Supreme Fearless Voice

Son of good family, to the south of here, at the place called Sea Tide, there is a land named Narasu; there is a seer there named Supreme Fearless Voice. Go to him and ask—how is a bodhisattva to study the practice of a bodhisattva and to cultivate the path of a bodhisattva?

Chengguan has a gloss for each of these three names. Of the place called Sea Tide, he says it is set up in terms of great compassion gathering beings in without failure, and that the next friend receives the name of youthful purity, and so the dwelling place is not different from the place before. As for the land named Narasu, this means Not Slothful—moving lands, holding lands, observing lands, going to lands, without rest, and so it is named Not Slothful. As for the seer named Supreme Fearless Voice, this is a Sanskrit word abbreviated, which in full should read Vimuduoluo Niejusha, rendered as the voice of supreme fearlessness; and the reason it is assigned to a seer is that it takes the sense of the pure and untainted quality of youthful purity.

Li Tongxuan looks at this sameness of name from the side of the meeting of compassion and knowledge. He says that this place of the sea tide in the south bearing the same name as the place of the stage before signifies that compassion and knowledge meet together—the gate of kindness and compassion of the stage before being advanced so as to meet with the substance of knowledge, and the eighth perfection, that of the vow, giving rise to the work of knowledge so that it meets with its gate of compassion; and he ties a judgment to it: if knowledge does not give rise to the great vow and practice compassion, then it tends to quiescence and has no way to bring forth its function. The land named Narasu he too glosses as Not Slothful.

What has to be asked is this: why is the place-name of the next visit called Not Slothful? Read it following upon this visit and it becomes plain: what this visit says at the end is a vow that will never be fulfilled, and what a vow that will never be fulfilled most fears is slackness. And so the name of the next station is called Not Slothful outright. Brought down to the ground: none of Sudhana's pointings to the next friend is random—the last sense of the previous visit is often the very name of the visit that follows.

Ten Hard Things: A Stretch of Pondering at the Parting

The last stretch is cherishing her virtue, bowing, and taking leave. Sudhana bowed his head to her feet, circled her measureless times, gazed up with earnest devotion, wept and shed tears, and then pondered in his heart ten hard things—it is hard to obtain awakening, hard to draw near to a good friend, hard to meet with a good friend; and below these, hard to obtain the faculties of a bodhisattva, hard to purify the faculties of a bodhisattva, hard to meet with a good friend who practices together with one, hard to observe in accord with principle, hard to cultivate in accord with the teaching, hard to meet with the skillful means that give birth to a good mind, hard to meet with the light of the dharma that increases all-knowledge; and at the end, having had these thoughts, he took his leave and went.

What has to be asked is this: why does he weep after obtaining the Dharma? Among the ten hard things, the good friend occupies three—drawing near, meeting with, and meeting with one who practices together. He has just now personally verified how hard a ‘meeting with’ is, and so he weeps. These tears are not sentiment; they are the knowing of a measure. Li Tongxuan glosses the weeping on three sides: it signifies that great compassion is vast and deep; it signifies too that in revering the Dharma and prizing entry into it his feeling reaches its fullest weight; and it signifies that knowledge and compassion are sovereign, letting compassion down into the common current and grieving over the destinies of suffering.

Look again at the sequence of the ten hard things: it starts in general from the hardness of obtaining awakening; the seven in the middle all fall upon good friends and upon one's own faculties; and the last two fall upon the skillful means that give birth to a good mind and the light of the dharma that increases all-knowledge—from outer conditions to inner faculties to the skillful means of the mind to the light of knowledge, step by step drawn back into oneself. Brought down to the ground: these ten sentences can be taken as a daily recitation. Recite them until they are familiar, and when one meets a good friend one will not be slighting, and when one does not meet one, one will not complain.

Lineage

The text of this visit opens four lines of flow below it.

The first is the line of the assigning of the stage. Chengguan judges this good friend as assigned to the seventh of the ten abodes, the abode of non-retrogression, and glosses the reason for what she signifies as her being assigned to a laywoman because she enters the common world; Zhiyan's Souxuan ji and Fazang's Tanxuan ji likewise make it the seventh, the abode of non-retrogression. Li Tongxuan sets up another track, matching the ten abodes directly to the ten grounds and judging this good friend to be the pattern of the practice of great kindness and compassion of the seventh of the ten grounds, the ground of Going Far—the frameworks of stage-assigning upon which Tongxuan and Chengguan rely are different from the outset. At the head of the five marks of this assembly Chengguan says himself that this matching comes down from the ancient worthies, and he keeps the level words that both have their reason and that within what has no sequence of stages the sequence of stages is not hindered, making no judgment that the sūtra text judges it of itself. These judgments of the several houses are recorded, without judging which is higher.

The second is the line of the glossing of the name. Upon the good friend's name, Fulfilled Vow, the three houses each have their glossing. Chengguan glosses the name already where the previous friend points her out, rendering it by the three words Delight of Intent, Hope, and Fulfilled Vow, and tying the reason for them to this: that the delight of intent and the hope of beings are brought to fullness, and that she is able also to bring to fullness the dharmas of nature and mark. Fazang's Tanxuan ji takes Hushaluo, the form given in the Zhidu lun, and collating the text from India, which has Ashe, renders it as Delight of Intent and also as Fulfilled Vow, tying it to her being able to fulfill the vows of all beings. Li Tongxuan gives Fulfilled Vow outright, tying it to her fulfilling her own original vow and transforming beings everywhere. All three have the one rendering Fulfilled Vow, while Chengguan alone brings out the sense of Hope and Fazang alone keeps the variant forms of the Sanskrit name. Besides these, under the listing of names in Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang there stands an old interlinear note giving the Sanskrit sound as Hushe and rendering the sense as stillness—near in sound to Fazang's transmitted Hushaluo while differing in form, and differing in sense from the Delight of Intent and Fulfilled Vow of the three houses; being the note upon a listing of names and not a long gloss of its own, it is kept alongside them so that the divergent statements upon the name may be seen. As for what the name laywoman signifies, Fazang makes it the semblance of kindness and compassion, and Tongxuan makes it a signifying of the practice of kindness and compassion; the two statements complete each other. This too is recorded, without judging which is higher.

The glossing of the name of the Dharma, the Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security, likewise differs in the three houses. Chengguan sets up two senses: one stated in terms of those transformed—those who see her leave behind the suffering of karma and delusion and do not fall back from awakening, and this is freedom from sorrow and security, while the banner takes the sense of great compassion standing high; and two stated in terms of the mutual identity of compassion and knowledge in the one who transforms—because compassion is itself knowledge she wades through suffering and is secure, and because knowledge is itself compassion she passes through many kalpas free from sorrow. Fazang states it in terms of the marks of the one who transforms: with a great mind she meets suffering through many kalpas without sorrow, in setting up and cultivating right practice she is secure and untiring, and her great resolve stands out alone, whence the banner; and he brings out besides the name (of the dharma gate) in the text from India, the Banner of the Setting Up of Freedom from Sorrow. Li Tongxuan also sets up two senses: first, that the name is made from the transforming—since beings have not left birth-and-death behind, the bodhisattva does not take security for himself, and so teaching and transforming beings so as to make them free from sorrow is the bodhisattva's banner of security; and second, that though the bodhisattva penetrate that the nature of birth-and-death is empty, so long as he fears birth-and-death he is not yet ultimate, and only when he enters birth-and-death to teach and transform beings, and penetrates that birth-and-death, beings, and the one who transforms are all together the practice of nirvāṇa with neither emerging nor sinking, is it named the Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security. One house states it from those transformed, one from the marks of practice, and one from the entering of birth-and-death; all are recorded without judgment.

The third is the line of the judging of the one question on whether the becoming of a Buddha is far or near. Fazang sets a further question and answer here: since there is no bounded measure and no date is set for her own becoming of a Buddha, can it then never be accomplished? His answer has four sides—because a bodhisattva-icchantika likewise does not accomplish it, beings must accomplish it; because it is also accomplished now; and because, looked at from the principle realized in oneself, there is neither accomplishing nor not accomplishing. Zhiyan divides the text of the answer into three: first, making clear the cultivation that does not depend upon times and seasons; next, the cultivation commensurate with the Dharma realm; and last, the conclusion—the cultivation that does not depend on times and seasons being the stretch of the reverse showing, and the cultivation commensurate with the Dharma realm the stretch of the explaining in order. Li Tongxuan states separately why this stage does not fall back: one must cultivate up to the liberation of the three emptinesses, with worldly and world-transcending knowledge appearing before one, and accomplish the vast practice of kindness and compassion, and only then can one enter the gate of birth-and-death by skillful means and penetrate that the nature of birth-and-death and the ocean of the Buddhas' merit and knowledge are from the first of one nature—whereas one who knows emptiness and non-self and yet fears birth-and-death, even if he does not fall back into an ordinary person, still falls back into the two vehicles. Tongxuan judges besides that this stage takes the perfection of skillful means among the ten as its host with the remaining nine as companions, which answers exactly to the sense of entering the common world. And as to the measure of how long ago the mind was given rise to, Tongxuan raises for himself thirty Gaṅgā's sands as the measure and says that what lies beyond is known to the Buddhas alone; this is Tongxuan's own statement, and the sūtra text still lists Buddhas as many as the sands of thirty-six Gaṅgā rivers. These houses each mark out their own line, and all are recorded without judgment.

The fourth is the line of the opening and gathering of the environing reward. As to the number of the adornments of the garden and grove, Chengguan opens them as ten matters, Fazang as thirteen matters, and Zhiyan as twelve; as to the outline of the whole visit, Chengguan makes six stretches and Tongxuan thirteen gates. The three houses open and gather differently and yet point to the same text, and the reader who looks at them side by side sees the measure with which the ancient worthies judge a text.

There is one further line running crosswise, and that is the parallel translations. Besides the eighty-fascicle text, the sixty-fascicle and the forty-fascicle texts both have this visit complete. The good friend of the forty is not named Fulfilled Vow but Īśānā, and she is plainly said to be the consort of a king; the garden is still named Universal Adornment and the dharma gate still the Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security, word for word the same in the three. In some places the forty speaks more finely. Of the manner of contact the eighty makes five matters—seeing, hearing, calling to mind, dwelling together, and providing for—while the forty opens six and sets the hearing of the name apart from the listening to the Dharma. Of those who cannot see her the eighty says only that in the end they do not get to see her, while the forty adds one layer: though they draw near her, though a long time pass, though they dwell together with her, still they cannot see. That layer matters: dwelling together is not the same as being able to see, and the seeing or not seeing is tied to one's own roots of good and conditions, not to distance. So it is with the second of the two ranks who dwell in the garden: the eighty says only that the remaining beings who dwell in this garden also all enter everywhere into the stage of non-retrogression, while the forty adds one limit—the remaining beings who dwell in this garden, whether long or lately, all cultivate the gates of practice of her own kind, and only then do they too all enter everywhere into the stage of non-retrogression. So too in the stretch of the vow: the eighty makes two vows, while the forty opens it into eleven sentences of ‘only then will my vow be exhausted’ and gathers all at the end into one ‘only then will my vow be fulfilled’—what is to be exhausted listed item by item, and what is to be fulfilled gathered into one. The three differ in fullness and brevity and point to one thing, and the reader who looks at them side by side sees the same passage of Dharma opened and gathered differently in three hands. Yet what the parallel translations open out is said by the forty itself and is not something the sūtra text of the eighty has; one may look across and know that it runs wider, but one may not turn it round and take it as already said by the eighty.

As for the name of this visit's dharma gate, the Banner of Freedom from Sorrow and Security, it is met with only this once in the whole of this sūtra, and is not repeated for another chapter or another friend. And as for the name Fulfilled Vow, it is met with twice in Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang in the listing of the names of the good friends—once in the main text, written there with a variant form of the word for laywoman, and once in the interlinear note beneath it that glosses its Sanskrit sound and sense—while the four canonical texts of the Huayan house and the texts of the consciousness-only line all give zero hits; and so the lineage of this visit lies only within the commentaries and treatises of the several houses of the one Huayan school.

In the text of one visit, the first half writes the place where she dwells and the second half the vow she gives rise to. The place is written at such length in order that one may know that ‘whoever sees me does not fall back’ is no empty word; the vow is spoken of as so exhaustless in order that one may know that what makes non-retrogression non-retrogression is precisely that it never at any point intends to stop.

Before Going Toward the Next Good Friend, Sudhana First Does One Thing

After Sudhana took his leave of the laywoman Fulfilled Vow, the sūtra text does not set him on the road at once; it first writes twelve sentences of mind. The first two are “pondering in accord with the right teaching of the bodhisattvas, pondering in accord with the pure practice of the bodhisattvas,” and the latter ten all begin with the word “gives rise”—giving rise to the mind that increases the power of merit, giving rise to the mind that sees all the Buddhas clearly, on down to “giving rise to the mind that crushes all the hosts of Māra.”

Chengguan outlines this as the ‘being mindful of the teaching of the friend before’ within the first of the six parts, ‘seeking in accord with the teaching,’ and judges its structure saying, “the first two make clear in general the according with the understanding and the practice that went before, and the latter ten are the surpassing minds advanced upon what went before; the first four are stated in terms of merit, and the latter six in terms of knowledge.” The first two sentences are the general, gathering in the understanding and the practice the friend before conferred; the latter ten are the particular, the surpassing minds that go one layer further upon that ground, of which the first four lean toward merit and the latter six toward knowledge.

Each of the latter ten sentences has its own referent and is not to be read through as a mere string of parallels. Giving rise to the mind that increases the power of the bodhisattva's merit is the wish that the strength of merit grow day by day; this is the capital of every practice. Giving rise to the mind that sees all the Buddhas clearly is seeking to see the Buddhas, and to see them distinctly—not to imagine them from afar, but to see clearly. Giving rise to the mind that brings forth all the Buddhas goes one step further than the sentence before it: not merely to see the Buddhas, but to wish that this very thought of one's own mind be the place from which the Buddhas are brought forth—the Buddha comes forth from the mind and is not got from outside. Giving rise to the mind that increases all the great vows is the measure of vowing growing along with practice: as far as the practice goes, so far the vow grows. These four sentences Chengguan judges to be stated in terms of merit. Giving rise to the mind that sees universally all the dharmas of the ten directions is the object widening from the Buddhas to all dharmas, not leaning upon one place. Giving rise to the mind that shines clearly upon the true nature of dharmas is, upon the dharmas seen, to shine further upon their true nature, and not to halt at their marks. Giving rise to the mind that scatters universally all obstructions is the counteracting—what shines being clear, the obstructions scatter of themselves. Giving rise to the mind that contemplates the Dharma realm without darkness is the state after the obstructions are scattered: the whole body of the Dharma realm with no one place dark. Giving rise to the mind adorned with the jewel of pure intent is to take a pure intent as one's jewel and adorn oneself with it; the adornment is not in anything outside the body. Giving rise to the mind that crushes all the hosts of Māra is the last sentence: the strength built up by the nine sentences before it can, at this point, crush Māra. These six sentences Chengguan judges to be stated in terms of knowledge. The forty-fascicle text here reads thirteen sentences: it opens with the same two sentences of according with and contemplating, but the eleven that follow are each headed with the three words “gives rise swiftly to,” and it has two entries more than the eighty—“gives rise swiftly to the mind that obtains all the treasuries of the Dharma” and “gives rise swiftly to the mind of the adamant that can break the inward defilement”—while it has nothing answering to the eighty's “giving rise to the mind that brings forth all the Buddhas.” Where the eighty reads giving rise to, the forty reads giving rise swiftly to: it is the same stretch of contemplation, and what the two texts set their eye upon is not the same.

A misreading has to be set aside: visiting good friends is not beginning again from the start each time one changes teacher. The sūtra text plainly places ‘pondering the teaching that went before’ ahead of setting out—the provision for going toward the next friend is the digesting of the friend before. Brought down to the ground: when you have finished reading a stretch of Dharma, do not hurry off to look for the next stretch; think it through into twelve sentences of mind, and then walk.

The Land of Narasu: Why the Sūtra Text Records the Name of a Land

“Stretch by stretch he journeyed on, and came to the land of Narasu, and everywhere all around sought and searched for Supreme Fearless Voice.” Three things within one sentence: journeying stretch by stretch, coming to a certain land, and seeking and searching everywhere all around.

All three words are worth looking at. Stretch by stretch means not overleaping the order; coming to a certain land means there is one definite place; seeking and searching everywhere all around means that having arrived at the place one must still search it through. The good friend is not met with by sitting and waiting; one walks there and then looks.

The sixty-fascicle text here reads the land of Sea Tide, and upon this name Fazang sets up a signification, saying, “as to the land being named Sea Tide, though the tide and waves rise, the sea has neither increase nor decrease, which signifies that this stage obtains the Dharma realm that neither increases nor decreases,” and saying further, “and again, realizing the principle he raises compassion, as the sea raises its tide.” For the eighty-fascicle text's Narasu Chengguan too sets up a gloss, saying, “as to the land being named Narasu, here it is called Not Slothful, because in moving fields, upholding fields, contemplating fields, and going to fields there is no resting”—to move one field, uphold one field, contemplate one field, go to one field and never rest: this is why it is called Not Slothful. Li Tongxuan likewise renders it Not Slothful, and attaches it to the knowledge without effort of the eighth abode, saying that “because the eighth abode enters the knowledge without effort, it accords with the root knowledge, pervades everywhere, and benefits beings without flagging, without any mind of weariness or sloth.” So each of the two texts has its own road of signification: the sixty takes neither increase nor decrease from the sea tide, and the eighty takes not being slothful from Narasu—one and the same stretch of sūtra text, and where the name differs the road of signification differs as well; this is what one must keep in view when reading the two texts.

Seeing the Dependent Recompense: What He Sees First Is a Forest

When Sudhana arrives, what he sees first is not the seer but “a great forest, adorned with asaṃkhyeya trees.” The sūtra text writes this forest with eleven items: leafy trees spreading wide, flowering trees opening out, fruit trees ripening, jewel trees raining fruits, sandalwood ranged in rows, aloeswood sending out fragrance, delight-giving fragrant trees, pāṭala encircling, nyagrodha rising high, jambūnada raining sweet fruits, and at the last it closes upon water—“utpala flowers and padma flowers adorning the pools.”

Chengguan here only glosses the words, saying that the pāṭala is “just like the catalpa of this land” and the nyagrodha is “like the willow of this land, its seeds like the loquat.” Li Tongxuan reads it as signification, saying “that his dwelling place is adorned with forest trees makes clear the sheltering and covering that benefits things,” and of the lotus flowers of the pools that they “make clear the practice of kindness and compassion dwelling in the world and yet undefiled.”

Set aside a misreading: the notion that the laying out of the dependent recompense is ornament of language. The order of the sūtra text is the dependent recompense first and the proper recompense after—a man's dwelling place speaks first, and the man speaks after. Brought down to the ground: in looking at a good friend, look first at what shelter those around him receive.

Seeing the Proper Recompense: A Seer Leading Ten Thousand Followers

Only then is the man seen. “At that time, the youth Sudhana saw that seer beneath a sandalwood tree, seated upon spread grass, leading ten thousand followers; some wore deerskin, some wore bark, and some again plaited grass to make their clothing.”

Chengguan here sets down one judgment of signification—“that he leads ten thousand followers signifies the ten thousand practices.” Ten thousand is not an exaggeration of the number of persons; it is the number of the gates of practice. Li Tongxuan judges the same sentence as “leading ten thousand followers makes clear that the practice is complete,” and upon the marks of the seer says “spreading grass and sitting makes clear that the knowledge without effort is able well to govern greed and disorder, and makes clear the mark of having few desires,” and “deerskin and grass clothing show the practice of having few desires and knowing what suffices.”

The point most worth attending to in this good friend is this: what he manifests is the mark of an outsider. Li Tongxuan raises the question and answers it himself, saying that this has two senses—“first, it signifies that knowledge is pure as a seer is, in order to make clear that at this stage the knowledge without effort appears, undefiled as a seer is,” and “second, because the knowledge without effort appears, with the practice of great compassion he is able to be the same as those of other ways, and by sharing their work he draws beings in.” Fazang too, upon the sixty-fascicle text, takes the seer to signify the stage, saying, “as for the seer, he signifies the pure and clean appearance of the eighth, youthful purity.” Brought down to the ground: what mark a good friend manifests is manifested in accord with the capacity of those to be transformed; it is not a limit upon himself.

Ten Similes: The Good Friend Is Not the Ground One Returns To, but the Implement for Arriving There

Sudhana has not yet asked about the Dharma; he first speaks ten sentences of praise. The ten sentences are one pattern—from “the good friend is the gate that goes toward all-knowledge” onward: gate, vehicle, boat, torch, road, lamp, bridge, canopy, eye, tide.

Not one of the ten similes is a destination. The gate is to be passed through; the vehicle and the boat and the bridge are to be ridden and crossed by; the torch and the lamp are to be walked by in their light; the canopy and the eye and the tide are for covering, for seeing, for moistening. To put it another way: the good friend is set wholly upon the two words ‘goes toward’—he is the implement by which you arrive at all-knowledge, and not all-knowledge itself.

Each of the ten similes has its own destination, and the sūtra text attaches each one plainly: what the gate is entered into is the true and real path; what the vehicle arrives at is the ground of the Tathāgata; what the boat arrives at is the jewel isle of wisdom; what the torch brings forth is the light of the ten powers; what the road is entered into is the city of nirvāṇa; what the lamp makes seen is the road where it is level and where it is perilous; what the bridge crosses over is the places of peril and evil; what the canopy brings forth is the coolness of great kindness; what the eye sees is the gate of the nature of dharmas; what the tide fills full is the water of great compassion. The ten may be looked at in three kinds. Gate, vehicle, boat, road, and bridge are implements of travel, and what they arrive at runs from near to far—first entering the true and real path, next arriving at the ground of the Tathāgata and the jewel isle of wisdom, and at last being able to enter the city of nirvāṇa and cross the places of peril and evil: the road is walked one stretch at a time, and on each stretch the good friend takes another name. Torch, lamp, and eye are implements of shining, and what they shine upon runs from outside inward—the torch bringing forth the light of the ten powers shines upon strength, the lamp seeing level and perilous shines upon the road, the eye seeing the gate of the nature of dharmas shines upon the substance: the further in the light goes, the nearer what is seen comes to the Dharma itself. Canopy and tide are implements of moistening, the one covering with great kindness as coolness, the other filling full with great compassion as water; the other eight similes are all bound for one's own advance in realization, and these two alone are bound for kindness and compassion—from which one sees that what the good friend gives is not a road only, but coolness and moisture as well. The forty-fascicle text divides this into two layers: what is spoken aloud is the single sentence “now I have met with a true good friend,” and the similes below it are attached to “and he further thought thus,” which is thought and not speech; in the eighty-fascicle text all ten similes belong to the speaking aloud of “he spoke thus.” The forty has one simile more as well, setting out a ford between the canopy and the eye—“the good friend is the ford toward omniscience, by which I swiftly reach the shore of merit”—so that its sentences number eleven; a ford is a crossing place, what it arrives at is the shore of merit, and it stands with the boat and the bridge in the kind that carries across.

In the one sentence of the ‘lamp of knowledge,’ the sūtra text reads “because he is able to make me see where the way is level and where it is perilous.” Chengguan here gives two layers of gloss: “as to seeing where it is level and where it is perilous: nirvāṇa is the level and the flat, birth-and-death is the perilous and the hard. And again, both of them are perilous, and not abiding is the level.” The first layer is easy to understand; the second is the eye—even nirvāṇa is counted as peril, and only the move of not abiding is the level ground.

Set aside a misreading: the taking of drawing near to a good friend as a kind of belonging. The ten similes of the sūtra text are, sentence by sentence, verbs—entering, arriving, bringing forth, crossing, seeing. Brought down to the ground: to test your own way of drawing near a good friend, look whether you have stopped where he is, or whether he is pushing you onward.

Inquiring After the Essentials of the Dharma: Sudhana's Standard Question

The ten praises spoken, only then does Sudhana ask. “Holy one! I have already given rise, before this, to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, yet I do not know how a bodhisattva is to study the practice that a bodhisattva practices. How is he to cultivate the path that a bodhisattva walks? I have heard that the holy one is skilled at drawing others on and instructing them; I pray that you will expound it for me!”

This one question is the pattern used throughout the fifty-three visits, and its three joints are all present: first he reports his own standing (he has already given rise to the mind of awakening), next he states what he lacks (he does not know how to study and how to cultivate), and last he says why he asks this person (he has heard that he is skilled at drawing others on and instructing them).

The three words “already given rise, before this” must be seen clearly. Sudhana has not come to seek the giving rise to the mind; he has given rise to it and does not know the road—and so what he asks after is the practice and the path, not the fruit. Set aside a misreading: the notion that asking about the Dharma is asking for conclusions. What the sūtra text asks is “how is he to study” and “how is he to cultivate,” and both are method. Brought down to the ground: before asking anyone for instruction, think these three joints through, and the question will come out straight of itself.

Praising the Vessel of the Dharma: The Seer Does Not Speak to Sudhana First

Sudhana has asked, and yet the seer does not answer him first. “At that time, Supreme Fearless Voice looked back at his followers and spoke in this way”—he turns his head and speaks to his followers.

First there is one sentence of general praise: “Sons of good family! This youth has already given rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi.” Chengguan glosses this act saying, “one, praising the giving rise to the mind in general. That he shows it to his followers is in order to make them revere and learn”—to praise before the company is in order that the followers should be moved to reverence and to learn by it.

Next is the praise in particular, eleven sentences all beginning with “this youth”: universally giving fearlessness, universally raising up benefit, constantly contemplating the ocean of wisdom, wishing to drink the rain of Dharma that is like sweet nectar, wishing to sound the vast ocean of Dharma, wishing to make beings abide within the ocean of wisdom, wishing to raise up universally the vast cloud of compassion, wishing to rain down universally the vast rain of Dharma, “this youth wishes to shine upon the world universally with the moon of wisdom,” wishing to put out the poisonous heat of the afflictions of the world, and “this youth wishes to nourish and grow all the roots of goodness of the beings that bear consciousness.”

The images of the eleven sentences are taken in pairs: the ocean of Dharma and the rain of Dharma are for moistening, the poisonous heat of the afflictions is for scorching, and when the moon of wisdom shines upon it the heat is stilled. These eleven sentences do not every one of them say “wishes.” The first three read “this youth gives fearlessness universally to all beings,” “this youth raises up universally the benefit of all beings,” and “this youth constantly contemplates the ocean of the wisdom of all the Buddhas,” and they say what he is already doing; only the latter eight are set up, each of them, with the one word “wishes,” and they say what he is bound for and has not yet reached. The forty-fascicle text makes this passage fourteen sentences, every one of them headed with the four words “this youth wishes,” with not one sentence that does not use wishes; the eighty's division between the first three, which say what is already done, and the latter eight, which say what he is bound for, is not made in the forty. Brought down to the ground: in praising a beginner, what he already does may well be praised, and what he is bound for should be said for him all the more—these latter eight “wishes” are the aspiration the seer speaks out for Sudhana before his followers.

The Reverent Praise of the Retinue: Fourteen Sentences Said by Ten Thousand People Together

The followers, having heard, scatter flowers, make obeisance, circle him, and then speak fourteen sentences. In this stretch the speaker must be marked with care—those who speak are the company of seers, and not Supreme Fearless Voice himself.

The structure of the fourteen sentences is removing first and setting forth after. The first nine sentences are all removing: guarding and protecting beings, wiping away the sufferings of the hells, cutting off forever the paths of the animals, turning away from the realm of Yama, shutting fast the gates of the places of peril, drying up the oceans of craving and desire, putting an end forever to the aggregate of suffering, breaking forever the darkness of ignorance, and cutting off forever the bonds of greed and craving. The latter five turn to setting forth, and take the mountain and the sun as their images: “he will surely surround the world with the great encircling-wheel mountain of merit; he will surely display to the world the great jewel Sumeru of wisdom,” the bringing forth of the pure sun of wisdom, the opening and showing of the Dharma treasury of the roots of goodness, and the last sentence, “he will surely make the world know clearly peril and ease.”

Upon this Chengguan sets down only one gloss of the words: “as to the words peril and ease, ease is likewise levelness”—and this sentence shines back and forth, head and tail, with what Sudhana himself said, “because he makes me able to see the road where it is level and where it is perilous”: what he sought was to see where it is level and where it is perilous, and what the company grants him is that he will make the world know clearly peril and ease. Brought down to the ground: what a person seeks is what he will one day have to give away.

Stating the Result of the Praise: One Who Gives Rise to the Mind Will Surely Arrive

The fourteen sentences of praise finished, Supreme Fearless Voice turns and speaks once more to the company of seers, one sentence of settled judgment: “Sons of good family! If there be any who can give rise to the mind of anuttarā-samyak-saṃbodhi, he will surely accomplish the path of all-knowledge.” Only then does he bring the words back down upon Sudhana—this son of good family has already given rise to this mind, and “he will purify the ground of the merit of all the Buddhas.”

Chengguan outlines this as the last of the four gates of praising the vessel of the Dharma, the stating of the result of the praise. The order of the reasoning in this sentence must be seen clearly: first the general rule is set up (whoever gives rise to this mind will surely accomplish), and then by this rule one man is sealed (this man has already given rise to this mind, and therefore will purify the ground of the merit of the Buddhas). Praise is not the weighing of a man as a man; it is the setting of a man within a rule.

Brought down to the ground: this is also a way of giving comfort—what is granted lies not in how much you now have, but in which necessity you have already taken your stand within.

Showing the Name and Substance of the Dharma: The Bodhisattva's Liberation of the Unvanquished Banner

After all that long laying out, the name of the dharma gate is only one sentence: “At that time, Supreme Fearless Voice told the youth Sudhana, saying, ‘Son of good family! I have obtained the bodhisattva's liberation of the unvanquished banner.’”

Chengguan glosses ‘banner’ and ‘unvanquished’ apart. As for the banner, “the pure knowledge of youthful purity is sovereign in transforming and stands high out beyond the surface of effortful functioning, and for this reason it is named a banner”—to stand high out beyond the surface of effortful functioning is not to fall into deliberate intent. As for the unvanquished, “toward marks and toward delusion it is unmoved, and therefore it says unvanquished; and this very crushing of delusion is likewise called the sense of a banner”—being unmoved toward marks and toward delusion, there is none that can vanquish it, and the sense of crushing delusion may also be called a banner. So the word banner is used in two ways: one takes its height, one takes its crushing.

In the sixty-fascicle text this gate reads the dharma gate of the wisdom of the indestructible banner, and Zhiyan, glossing that sūtra, follows this name, his outline reading “he enters the bodhisattva's dharma gate of the wisdom of the indestructible banner”; Fazang, in the one stretch upon this friend, glosses this gate as well, opening it into four senses: as for the banner, “because within this stage it stands high out beyond the surface of effortful functioning”; as for the indestructible, “because it is not moved by marks and delusion”; and “wisdom is its substance as a dharma”; and therefore the original Indian name reads “the bodhisattva's liberation of the banner that cannot be vanquished.” The two houses alike take standing high out as the banner and not being moved by marks and delusion as the unvanquished or the indestructible, while the name each takes differs by a single word—unvanquished is said with respect to an adversary, indestructible with respect to its own substance. Fazang adds one sense more: “and further, the working of this seer's concentration and wisdom stands out surpassingly and does not bend, and for this reason it is taken as the name”—the name of the dharma gate is also the virtue of this man. Brought down to the ground: the name of a dharma gate is often the very place where the practice is entered; when you read a name, first ask from which side it is set up.

Inquiring After Its Realm: Sudhana Presses Further

Sudhana returns only one sentence: “Holy one! What is the realm of the liberation of the unvanquished banner?”

This sentence is short, and yet it is the pivot of the whole stretch. Chengguan outlines the direct conferring of the essentials of the Dharma into six gates, and this is the second gate, ‘inquiring after its realm’—first the name and substance of the Dharma are shown, then its realm is inquired after, and only then is it conferred so that he may realize and know. The order may not be reversed: first one knows that there is such a gate, then one asks what the scene within the gate is, and last one may enter it.

It is to be marked that what Sudhana asks after is the ‘realm,’ and not ‘how to cultivate.’ He has already asked before how to study and how to cultivate; here, having heard the name of one definite dharma gate, what he asks turns to the realm that this gate opens. Brought down to the ground: asking about the Dharma has its layers—first ask the road, then ask what may be seen along that stretch of it.

Stroking the Head and Taking the Hand: This Gate Is Not Conferred by Speech

The seer does not answer. “At that time, the seer Pimu at once stretched out his right hand, stroked the head of Sudhana, and took the hand of Sudhana.”—from here to the being back in the place where he was, the sūtra text has not one further word of expounding the Dharma.

Chengguan attaches these two acts to two senses apart: “the stroking of the head displays the mark of sustaining power. The taking of the hand signifies the sense of conferring and giving, because in gathering each other in there is strength.” The stroking of the head is a covering from above, and what it displays is sustaining power; the taking of the hand is a mutual clasping, and what it signifies is conferring and giving, because only in gathering each other in is there strength. The two matters may not be made into one sense.

Set aside a misreading: the notion that not speaking means keeping it secret and not transmitting it. The very opposite—the realm this gate confers is a direct perception pervading the ten directions and passing through many kalpas, which speech cannot exhaust, and so it is conferred by bodily form so that he may see it for himself. Brought down to the ground: there are things that cannot be learned once they are explained clearly; they have to be passed through once within the realm itself.

The Realm Seen: Going to the Ten Directions, Hearing the Dharma, Passing Kalpas

At one clasp of the hand, Sudhana “saw his own body going into worlds as many as the dust motes of ten Buddha-fields in the ten directions, arriving at the places of Buddhas as many as the dust motes of ten Buddha-fields.” What is seen falls into several layers: first the seeing of the lands, the assemblies, the marks and signs, and the adornments—this is seeing; next the hearing of how the Buddhas expound the Dharma in accord with what beings delight in, and moreover that “every single word and every single sentence he wholly penetrated, and held each one apart without any confusion”—this is hearing and being able to hold; then the knowing that the Buddhas purify and cultivate their vows with every sort of resolved understanding and accomplish the powers by their pure vows—this is knowing the practice that is cause; and again the seeing of the forms and marks manifested in accord with the mind and of the great nets of light, and at the last it closes upon knowledge with “he knew also the power of the great light of the unobstructed wisdom of those Buddhas.”

Then comes time. One day and night, seven days and nights, half a month, one month, one year, ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years, a koṭi of years, an ayuta of koṭis of years, a nayuta of koṭis of years, half a kalpa, one kalpa, a hundred kalpas, a thousand kalpas, all the way to “or a hundred thousand koṭis, and so on up to kalpas as many as the dust motes of unspeakably unspeakable Buddha-fields.”

This long series is not rhetoric of exaggeration; it is there so that the four words below it, “back in the place where he was,” may show their weight. Brought down to the ground: in reading this stretch do not skip over the numbers—the numbers themselves are the sense.

Obtaining the Benefit of the Liberation: Five Pairs and Ten Sentences, Giving Rise to One Another in Turn

The five shinings and the five obtainings all still fall within the seer's holding of his hand and sustaining him; the releasing of the hand and the return to the place where he was come after. Here the sūtra text lists five pairs and ten sentences: because he was shone upon by the light of the knowledge of the liberation of the unvanquished banner he obtained the light of the Vairocana-treasury samādhi; “because he was shone upon by the light of the samādhi of the liberation of inexhaustible knowledge, he obtained the light of the dhāraṇī that gathers in universally all the quarters”; “because he was shone upon by the light of the gate of the vajra-wheel dhāraṇī, he obtained the light of the samādhi of the utterly pure mind of wisdom”; “because he was shone upon by the light of the prajñā-pāramitā of the universal-gate treasury of adornment, he obtained the light of the samādhi of the Buddhas' empty-space-treasury wheel”; “because he was shone upon by the light of the samādhi of the Dharma wheel of all the Buddhas, he obtained the light of the samādhi of the inexhaustible knowledge of the three times.”

Chengguan judges their structure saying, “the passage has ten sentences and five pairs; that is, being shone upon by five dharmas he obtains five kinds of benefit, and the five that shine are all particular names of the unvanquished banner,” and saying further, “now the first pair is the general and the remaining four are the particulars, giving rise to one another in turn.” Giving rise to one another in turn means this: what is obtained in the pair before is the very one that shines in the pair after—the light of the samādhi having been obtained, this light turns into the knowledge that shines, and so the all-holding is obtained; the all-holding turns and shines, and so the obstruction of the mind is purified and knowledge is bright; the pure knowledge becomes the treasury of adornment, and this light shines upon the mind so that right reception appears; the empty-space-treasury wheel is the round fullness and quiescent shining of all the dharmas of the Buddhas, and shining upon the mind with this, knowledge exhausts the three times.

Chengguan also keeps a second reading open for himself: if it be stated only in terms of what shines, the five are “all particular senses within the general, and then they do not tread one upon another.” Brought down to the ground: when a string of parallel sentences will not yield its order to you, try first taking the fruit of the sentence before as the cause of the sentence after.

Making Clear the Letting Go of the Sustaining Power: The Hand Is Released, the Man Is Where He Was

“At that time, that seer released the hand of Sudhana, and the youth Sudhana at once saw his own body back in the place where it had been.”

This is the most essential sentence in the whole of this section. Chengguan sets down his judgment here: “as to being back in the place where he was: without moving from the place where he was he pervades the places of the ten directions, and since he is back at the time where he was, so too the many kalpas have not gone beyond a single day.”—the body has never left this place and yet has pervaded the ten directions; the time has never passed a single day and yet many kalpas have been gone through.

He at once widens this judgment into a general rule: “near and far without obstruction, thought and kalpa in round fusion—all of them are the power of the dharma gate of the good friend of the round teaching.” And he uses it to resolve a doubt every reader must raise—how can Sudhana in one lifetime accomplish the practice of many kalpas? The answer: “thus Sudhana in one lifetime can accomplish the practice of many kalpas, and within the stage of Samantabhadra he may pass through unspeakable kalpas and not merely the three asaṃkhyeyas—all of it by the sustaining power of the power of the Dharma”; and at the last he admonishes in one sentence: “one ought not to settle this deep purport by time or by place.”

Set aside a misreading: the reading of this stretch as a display of spiritual powers. Chengguan judges it plainly—this is “the power of the dharma gate of the good friend of the round teaching,” the very substance of the dharma gate itself, and not a feat of the seer's. Brought down to the ground: in reading the Avataṃsaka, where time and space do not answer to common sense, call this admonition to mind first.

Making Clear the Acknowledging in Words of What Was Received: One Question and One Answer, and to Whom the Merit Is Given

Back in the place where he was, the seer asks: “Son of good family! Do you keep it in mind?” Sudhana answers: “Yes! This is the power of the holy one, the good friend.”

Chengguan outlines this as the sixth gate of the direct conferring of the essentials of the Dharma, ‘making clear the acknowledging in words of what was received,’ and notes upon it only the two words “it may be known.” What is asked is whether he keeps it in mind, and the very first word of Sudhana's answer, “yes,” is itself an affirmation. Fazang glosses this sentence saying, “as for ‘yes indeed,’ it is right remembrance not forgotten”—that is, he does indeed keep it in mind, and keeps it distinctly, and is not evading. Only after the affirmation does the second layer come: “this is the power of the holy one, the good friend.” Upon this Fazang glosses again, “as for the power of the good friend, it is the sustaining power of the surpassing stage, showing that it is not by his own strength; this then answers the reason for it”—that he remembers is so, and yet the reason he can remember does not lie in himself. Within one sentence he first acknowledges and then gives over: first he admits what he received, then he knows whose giving it was; and this is the weight of the words ‘acknowledging what was received.’ The forty-fascicle text reads this answer as “yes, this is the power of the holy one, the good friend, which has made what I keep in mind distinct and manifest.” The eighty stops at giving the merit over to the good friend; the forty, beyond that giving over, says plainly as well that what is kept in mind is distinct and manifest—so that in the forty the yes of acknowledging what was received is given a positive content: not merely that he remembers, but that he remembers distinctly.

Set aside a misreading: the notion that because the realm was seen by oneself the merit lies in oneself. Not one word of the answer in the sūtra text falls upon himself. Brought down to the ground: whenever there is something gained, first recognize by whose sustaining power this gain was brought out; this one sentence is itself the gate that guards against conceit.

Humbling Himself and Deferring to the Superior, One: First Raising the Realm of the Great Bodhisattvas

Next comes the fourth part of this section. “Son of good family! I know only this bodhisattva's liberation of the unvanquished banner.”—he first draws his own bound. Then, instead of saying where he falls short, he first says how the great bodhisattvas are: they have accomplished all the surpassing samādhis, “at all times they obtain sovereignty,” within a single thought they bring forth the measureless wisdom of the Buddhas, they take the lamp of the Buddhas' knowledge as their adornment and shine upon the world universally, “within a single thought they enter universally the realms of the three times, they divide their bodily forms and go everywhere to the lands of the ten directions,” their bodies of wisdom enter universally the whole Dharma realm, in accord with the minds of beings they appear universally before them and observe their faculties and their conduct and bestow benefit, and they send forth pure light greatly to be loved and delighted in.

Why humbling oneself and deferring to the superior must first raise up what is superior is that humbling is not self-belittling. If he said only ‘I am not equal to it,’ Sudhana would still not know where he was to go; only when the realm of the great bodhisattvas is raised up whole does Sudhana know where the one gate he has received stands within the whole picture. Brought down to the ground: when you tell someone your own limits, tell him at the same time what lies beyond those limits.

Humbling Himself and Deferring to the Superior, Two: Ten Occurrences of the Word ‘Their’

Only after the raising up of what is superior does it come down to the humbling: “and how then could I know, or be able to tell of, their practice of merit, their surpassing vows, their adorned lands, the realms of their wisdom,” and below this it continues with the ranging of their samādhis, their spiritual powers and transformations, the sporting of their liberation, the differences among the marks of their bodies, the purity of their voices, and the light of their wisdom—ten occurrences of the word ‘their’ in all.

The ten occurrences of ‘their’ run down in a row, and every one of them points to that side—this is a pushing away in the rhetoric: it pushes the reader's eyes, sentence by sentence, off the man who is speaking. And the sentence pattern, “how could I know, or be able to tell of,” states two layers plainly: he cannot know because the realm is beyond him, and he cannot tell because words are beyond it.

The sixty-fascicle text here reads “how could I know the practice of the great bodhisattvas,” not using the pattern of the word ‘their,’ and at the end it has a further conclusion, “matters such as these are not my realm.” The substance of the humbling words in the two texts differs while the sense is the same. The forty-fascicle text, like the eighty, uses the pattern of the word their run on down, but its entries reach nineteen theirs, nine more than the eighty's ten. Of the three texts the sixty does not use this pattern at all, the eighty has ten entries and the forty nineteen—the same humbling words, with the entries opened out or drawn together differently. Brought down to the ground: real humbling words are humbling words with content—only when you can say in which ten places the other surpasses you is it not mere courtesy.

Pointing to the Next Friend: Go South and Find That Brahmin Amid the Five Heats

At the last he points the road: “Son of good family! Here in the south there is a hamlet named Īṣāṇa; there is a brahmin named Victorious Heat. Go to him and ask: how is a bodhisattva to study the practice that a bodhisattva practices and to cultivate the path that a bodhisattva walks?”

Chengguan glosses each of the two names. As for Īṣāṇa, “here it is called Long and Straight, meaning that the lanes and paths run far,” and he judges its signification to be that “because he well knows the three limits it is long, and because he well knows the surpassing meaning it is straight.” As for Victorious Heat, “as for the brahmin Victorious Heat, it is because among the five heats he accomplishes the victorious practice,” and its signification is that “he embodies the heat of the afflictions and accomplishes the victorious virtue, and therefore is not defiled by the afflictions and accomplishes the pure practice.” The forty-fascicle text records one layer more in the places: the eighty raises only the hamlet Īṣāṇa and then the brahmin Victorious Heat, while the forty sets out a dwelling place beyond the hamlet, reading “there is a dwelling place there named Ayedanna,” and only then raises the name of Victorious Heat. The hamlet is the lane where one lives, and the dwelling place is where the man himself stays; the forty writes out all four layers—the south, the hamlet, the dwelling place, the man—while the eighty passes over one of them.

It is to be marked that the question the seer charges him with is not word for word what Sudhana asked at the outset. Sudhana's first question reads “how is a bodhisattva to study the practice that a bodhisattva practices? How is he to cultivate the path that a bodhisattva walks?”—fourteen characters in the Chinese, two questions set side by side; when the seer points him to the next friend it reads “how is a bodhisattva to study the practice that a bodhisattva practices and cultivate the path that a bodhisattva walks?”—twelve characters, the second “how” dropped and the two joined below by an enumeration mark. The words are shortened and the sense of the question runs on unbroken— Gate after gate he visits, and what is asked is from first to last one and the same question; what changes is not the question but the depth at which it can be answered. Brought down to the ground: one real question may be asked for a lifetime; there is no need to change it for a new one each time.

Cherishing His Virtue, Bowing, and Taking Leave: Leaping with Joy, Withdrawing, Journeying South

“At that time, the youth Sudhana leapt up with joy, bowed to the feet of the seer, circled around him numberless times, gazed up and beheld him with earnest care, and then took his leave and withdrew and journeyed south.”

Five acts: rejoicing, bowing, circling, beholding, withdrawing. The rejoicing comes first and the withdrawing last, and the three in the middle are all bodily reverence—answering symmetrically to the casting of his five limbs to the ground, the circling measureless times, and the joining of palms and standing before him when he first saw him. He revered on coming and reveres on going, and in the middle one item more has been added, the gazing up and beholding him with earnest care, which is the cherishing of virtue that comes only after the Dharma has been obtained.

Set aside a misreading: the notion that once the Dharma is obtained one may go. The sūtra text writes the taking of leave at greater length than the first meeting. Brought down to the ground: how one departs after receiving the Dharma is as much a joint of the practice as how one arrived before seeking it.

Assigned to the Abode of Youthful Purity: Where This Judgment Comes From

One thing must be made clear at the last: for the ‘assigned to the abode of youthful purity’ named at the head of this section, the sūtra text itself does not have these words. This is Chengguan's outline—“the eighth, the seer Pimu, assigned to the abode of youthful purity.” Fazang and Zhiyan, upon the sixty-fascicle text, likewise read “the eighth, the abode of youthful purity,” and the stage the three houses assign is the same.

Chengguan's outline of this assembly comes from the matching made by the ancient worthies, and in the stretch outlining the chapter he states it very even-handedly himself: “both have their reason. That is: since each single stage is complete with many dharma gates, how should the ordinary mind be denied the practice of seeking the dharma of the good friends? Therefore not matching them has its reason. Yet within the absence of an order of stages the order of stages is not obstructed, and displaying the stages is the constant rule; and so matching them likewise loses nothing.”—both the reading that glosses them loosely and the reading that matches them to stages have their reason, and the assigning of a stage is a matching within a way of reading, not an order of steps the sūtra text sets up for itself. Therefore wherever this piece speaks of an ‘assigned stage,’ it belongs to the judgment of the commentators and may not be read as the sūtra text speaking of itself.

Brought down to the ground: in reading the fifty-three visits the order of stages may help you see the whole picture, but do not use the order of stages to bound the Dharma that any one good friend confers.

Lineage

The text of this section opens out along two lines, the line of the name and the line of the sense.

The first is the line of the name. As for the name of this friend, the eighty-fascicle text and Chengguan read Supreme Fearless Voice, the sixty-fascicle text and Fazang and Zhiyan read Vimuttara, and the listing of the names of the good friends in Zhiyan's Huayan jing kongmu zhang (forty-six entries in the original table) likewise reads Vimuttara; Li Tongxuan uses Vimughoṣa in the stretch of gloss proper to this section, and in the stretch matching together the ten good friends reads again the seer Pimu—one man using two differing forms. The rendering of the name differs as well: Fazang transmits the original Indian name and renders it as the supreme voice without terror, and Li Tongxuan renders it as a voice that is fearsome when sent forth—the one takes its being without terror, the other its being fearsome to wrong doctrines; the sense the two renderings take is not the same. The name of the dharma gate is of a piece with this: the eighty-fascicle text reads the liberation of the unvanquished banner, and the sixty-fascicle text the dharma gate of the wisdom of the indestructible banner. These differing forms are all settled statements of the ancient worthies; they are recorded, without judging which is higher. The forty-fascicle text goes another way with this friend's name: it does not transcribe but renders by sense, reading first the seer Great Fierce Might and below that the Voice of Great Fierce Might; the name of the dharma gate it reads the same as the eighty's with one word added, the gate of the liberation of the unvanquished banner.

The second is the line of the sense. What Chengguan takes lies in thought and kalpa in round fusion—from the one sentence “back in the place where he was” he draws out that near and far without obstruction is the power of the dharma gate of the good friend of the round teaching, and by it resolves how Sudhana in one lifetime can accomplish the practice of many kalpas; and this judgment is again cited as a general rule in his own Yanyi chao. In the Chao Chengguan has besides a gloss proper to this friend: he glosses the assignment to the abode of youthful purity as “because the mind gives rise to no inversion and raises no evil Māra to break the mind of awakening”; and he glosses the “gathering each other in with strength” of the taking of the hand as a mutual gathering in under conditions set apart—here in the Huayan, it is the good friend who has strength and Sudhana who has none, and so the strong gathers in the strengthless, and through the good friend Sudhana is made to see; and were it the other way, Sudhana having the strength and the seer none, it would still be the strong gathering in the strengthless, and all that the seer realizes Sudhana would obtain, and therefore he says “they gather each other in.” The two are one and the same rule under two conditions, not two assertions standing at once. He further resolves the doubt about thought and kalpa by saying that “the seer's strength has long and short at its own disposal,” that “being able to make the long into the short, he is likewise able to make the short into the long.” What Fazang takes lies in the signification of the stage—upon the sixty-fascicle text's land of Sea Tide he sets up the sense that the sea has neither increase nor decrease, and takes the seer to signify the purity and cleanness of youthful purity, being purely without outflows, and being only the body of transformation. What Li Tongxuan takes lies in the knowledge without effort—at this stage knowledge is pure as a seer is, and with the practice of great compassion he is the same as those of other ways and draws beings in; and in the matching together of the ten good friends he judges this friend to be the gate in which the knowledge without effort appears and is the same as the wrong ways. He glosses the name of the dharma gate too, saying that at this stage the knowledge without effortful functioning is of itself everywhere pervading, benefits all beings, and crushes the afflictions without any break, and that the stages below are not its equal, and therefore it says the unvanquished banner; of the stroking of the head he says it “shows him comfort,” and of the taking of the hand that it “signifies drawing him in and receiving him”; and he holds that both the eighth of the ten abodes and the eighth of the ten grounds must have the Buddhas anoint the crown, urge on, and sustain, for “if he were not sustained, then at times he would settle in quiescence, or would not understand the realm of the Buddhas, and could not advance of himself.” As to the releasing of the hand, he says that having obtained the Dharma his own strength is constant of itself, and though the holy one lets go his sustaining what he sees is no different, likening it to “a boat that has carried one across to the shore: one may not go on carrying the boat.” At the last he takes this stage to have “the pāramitā of vows as the principal and the remaining nine as its companions,” precisely lest he settle in quiescence, so that by the gate of the great vow the functioning of his knowledge is raised up. All the above is Li Tongxuan's own saying. What Zhiyan takes lies in the bounds of the outline—at the first layer he opens it into the three of exhorting and teaching him to enter, entering in accord with the teaching, and distinguishing realization by direct perception; below these, entering in accord with the teaching opens into eight gates, and the direct entering into realization opens into the three of praising the giving rise to the mind, making clear the dharma gate of his own portion, and looking up and deferring to the superior portion. His own portion opens into four gates again (distinguishing the substance of the dharma gate · making clear the bounds of the sovereign functioning of the dharma gate · returning and abiding in his own portion · concluding the name of the dharma gate), and the answer into three layers (the good friend's hand sustaining him so that he sees, hears, and cultivates · the differing seasons of cultivation · “being shone upon by ten dharmas he obtains ten samādhis”). He settles the bounds of each joint and sets up no signification apart; of the four houses his is the outline that stays closest to the text.

As for the line of consciousness-only and the treatises of the Huayan house, the Cheng weishi lun, the She dacheng lun, the Yogācārabhūmi, the Jieshenmi jing, and the Huayan yisheng jiaoyi fenqi zhang, the Huayan yisheng shixuan men, the Fajie xuanjing, and the Huayan jing zhigui—none of these has the name of this friend or the name of this dharma gate, and in all eight texts searched nothing was found; the face of lineage for this section lies only in the commentaries and treatises of the several houses of the one Huayan school.

The text of one stretch is, in its first half, wholly in the seeing and the praising, and in its second half wholly in the clasping of the hand and the releasing of the hand. At the clasping of the hand he pervades the ten directions and passes many kalpas; at the releasing of the hand he is back in the place where he was—and the eye of this section lies wholly between that one clasp and that one release.