唯識三十頌 偈五 末那

You fall asleep; it does not. You are not thinking "I"; it still affirms "I."

The eighth, the ālaya, is far too subtle to "grasp a self" — so who sustains that sense of "I" we carry from beginningless time, needing no reason, born with us? Vasubandhu's answer is the seventh consciousness, manas. Its strangest feature: it arises in dependence on the ālaya, then turns back and fixes the ālaya fast, taking it for the "inner self" — a consciousness that bites back on its own root.

Its operation is "constant examining." Set four kinds of consciousness side by side and its uniqueness leaps out: the eighth is constant but not examining, the sixth examining but not constant, the first five neither; manas alone is both — every instant, silently, deeply weighing one thing: "this is I."

Yet the very same deep, unbroken power of examination, its direction turned, can shift from examining the "mark of self" to examining the "mark of no-self." The "I" it constantly examines — which afflictions clump to form it? In the next verse, Vasubandhu names them.

The verse

次第二能變，是識名末那， 依彼轉緣彼，思量為性相。

Next, the second transformer: this consciousness is named manas; it turns in dependence on that and takes that as object; deliberation is its nature and mode.

In plain words

Having finished the first transforming consciousness (the ālaya), we come to the second — its name is "manas."

"Manas" is Sanskrit; it means "mind" or "deliberation." Note: it is not the same as what we usually call the "sixth consciousness" (the sixth is called "mind-consciousness," the consciousness that arises dependent on the mind; this seventh one is simply called "the mind/manas" itself).

What marks this manas? The verse points it out in two lines.

The first line, "it turns in dependence on that and takes that as object" — it arises in dependence on the ālaya, and then fixes its gaze right back on the ālaya.

"That" (彼) refers to the ālaya consciousness discussed above. "Turns in dependence on that" means: manas arises, turns, only by relying on the ālaya. "Takes that as object" means: once arisen, what it cognizes is also the ālaya — without pause it stares at the ālaya and mistakes it for an "I."

So manas is peculiar: it depends on the ālaya and it also cognizes the ālaya; it both arises from it and turns back to grasp it as self.

The second line, "deliberation is its nature and mode" — its essence and its operation are both "deliberation."

"Nature" is what it essentially is; "mode" is how it operates. For manas, both are "deliberation" — its essence is deliberation, its way of working is deliberation. That is why it is called "manas (mind, deliberation)."

But this "deliberation" is special: it is "constant and examining" (恒審) — both "constant" (never for a moment interrupted) and "examining" (deeply, finely weighing). A comparison makes it clear: the sixth consciousness deliberates but is interrupted (it stops in sleep or a faint) — examining but not constant; the eighth ālaya never stops yet is too subtle to examine — constant but not examining; the first five are neither. Only manas is both constant and examining — from beginningless time, every instant, silently, it deeply weighs one thing: "there is an I."

This is exactly its trouble, and the subject of the next verse: the "I" it constantly examines is the very root of all affliction.

The eighth is already the root — why a seventh?

The eighth, the ālaya, has already been set up as the root consciousness; one would think the problem of "self-grasping" should fall to it. But here is a probing question: the ālaya is itself "unknowable, associated with equanimity alone, too subtle to tell agreeable from disagreeable" — it does not "grasp a self" at all. So who, from beginningless time, exerts that force that firmly holds "there is an I"?

Vasubandhu's answer is this seventh consciousness — manas. Its very reason for being is to house that post of "constantly grasping a self."

Depending on it, and cognizing it: a consciousness that bites back on its own root

Manas's strangest feature is laid bare by the two "that"s of this verse: "it turns in dependence on that and takes that as object."

Both "that"s are the ālaya. The CWL says manas "turns in dependence on that" — arising in dependence on the ālaya (〔T31n1585 0021c13〕); and "takes that as object" — "「彼」謂即前此所依識，聖說此識緣藏識故" (〔0021c17〕). That is: it can arise only by relying on the ālaya, and once arisen it turns back and fixes the ālaya fast, taking it for "I."

This is a consciousness that bites back on its own root. It does not reach outward to mountains, sounds, and sights (that is the work of the first six); it faces only inward, gripping the deepest ālaya, taking it from beginningless time as the "inner self." That sense of "I" we carry, needing no reason, born with us — its root is here.

"Constant and examining": four lines of comparison reveal its uniqueness

How does it operate? "Deliberation is its nature and mode." The CWL glosses the four words thoroughly: "雙顯此識自性、行相。意以思量為自性故，即復用彼為行相故" (〔T31n1585 0022a19〕) — its "essence" is deliberation, its "operation" is deliberation too; name and reality match, hence "manas (mind, deliberation)."

But "deliberation" alone is not enough; two more words are needed — "constant and examining." "能審思量名末那故" (〔0022a23〕). Line up four kinds of consciousness and manas's uniqueness leaps out:

• the eighth ālaya: constant but not examining (never stopping, yet too subtle to examine or discriminate);
• the sixth consciousness: examining but not constant (it weighs deeply, but breaks off in sleep or faint);
• the first five: neither constant nor examining;
• manas alone: both constant and examining — from beginningless time, every instant, silently, deeply examining one thing: "this is I."

Precisely because it is "constant and examining," this self-grasping is not like the sixth consciousness's self-view, which comes and goes, but is unbroken day and night, latent in the depths. You fall asleep; it does not. You are not thinking "I"; it still affirms "I."

It too can turn: from examining "self" to examining "no-self"

Yet this verse closes with a thread of hope. The CWL says: "未轉依位，恒、審思量所執我相；已轉依位，亦審思量無我相故" (〔0022a23〕).

Manas's "constant examining" is not bound to grasp a self — before the basis-transformation, what it constantly examines is the "mark of self"; once transformed (when practice turns the defiled to the pure), it still constantly examines, but now the "mark of no-self." The very same deep, unbroken power of examination, its direction turned, shifts from the root of birth-and-death to the function that realizes no-self. Paramārtha's Zhuanshilun names it outright "the second grasping-consciousness, whose essence is grasping" (第二執識，以執著為體, 〔T31n1587 0062a14〕) — the name lands on that "grasping"; and what practice must do is precisely to loosen this grip.

The "I" it constantly examines — which afflictions clump together to form it? In the next verse, Vasubandhu names the four afflictions that always attend manas, one by one.