大乘莊嚴經論 隨修品

Once the Dharma has been spoken out, it must in the end come down to a single word — practice.

However much Dharma one hears, if it stops at rejoicing it is still on this near shore. This chapter says the Dharma is from the first like a raft for crossing a river: use it to cross the river of the afflictions, and once the far shore is reached it should be set down. Only one who can take it up and also lay it down truly knows how to use the Dharma.

Practice does not rest on solitary, brute effort. It readies for you four supports — a good environment, good teachers and friends, good self-discipline, wholesome roots from former lives — and it sweeps away, along the road, several ailments of mind: the fear of walking the lesser path, the fear of "existence and non-existence, purity and defilement," and the doubt whether one's love for beings is excessive.

Most moving is the treatise's image of a basin of water: clear water, once muddied, has upon clearing only had its filth removed — that "clarity" was not ladled in from outside. The chapter's claim here is that the mind's nature is originally pure and adventitious dust can be removed. As for "the afflictions are awakening," the prose commentary expressly marks it as the sūtra's hidden intent, stated with respect to the nature-of-dharmas. It does not mean that active affliction itself is awakening, or that one immediate turn of thought is already realization.

So take the Dharma as a raft; once the river is crossed, set it lightly down.

Having spoken of the bodhisattva's proclaiming of the Dharma, the text next speaks of the bodhisattva's "practicing in accord with the true Dharma." This "practice in accord" has five parts: knowing the meaning, knowing the Dharma, according with the Dharma, sharing the attainment, and practicing accordingly — shown now in order.

With respect to the two, he knows there is no self; with respect to the three, he leaves off the false and the correct. When the bodhisattva understands in this way, he is called one who knows the meaning.

This verse shows the bodhisattva's "knowing the meaning." With respect to the two, he knows there is no self — that is, with respect to the two, "person" and "dharmas," he knows that both are without self. How can he know this? Because he knows that grasper and grasped have no substance. With respect to the three, he leaves off the false and the correct — the "three" are the three samādhis: emptiness, signlessness, and wishlessness. Through the samādhi of emptiness he knows that there is no substance, because it understands the wholly-imagined nature (分別性; 遍計所執性, parikalpita-svabhāva); through the samādhis of signlessness and wishlessness he knows that there is no self-substance, because they understand the other-dependent nature (依他性; 依他起性, paratantra-svabhāva) and the true nature (真實性; 圓成實性, pariniṣpanna-svabhāva). It is said to "leave off the false and the correct" because these three samādhis draw forth supramundane knowledge — hence they are not "false"; and because they still belong to the mundane (the conditioned) — hence they are not "correct" either. When the bodhisattva understands in this way, he is called one who knows the meaning — if the bodhisattva knows that both person and dharmas are without self, and can know that the three samādhis leave off both the false and the correct, then in just this way he is called "one who knows the meaning."

Having thus known the meaning, he knows the Dharma to be like a raft: hearing the Dharma, he should not rejoice; letting the Dharma go is called knowing the Dharma.

Next this shows "knowing the Dharma." The beginning bodhisattva, having known the meaning, should next "know the Dharma" — that is, know that the sūtras and the other Dharma-teachings are like a raft: one must not rejoice merely because one has heard them. Why? Because the Dharma is to be let go, just as the raft is let go [once the river is crossed]. This is called "knowing the Dharma."

The ordinary person has the two knowledges, and so penetrates the twofold no-self; in order to perfect those knowledges, he practices according with the Dharma as taught.

This verse shows the bodhisattva's "according with the Dharma." The ordinary person has the two knowledges — that is, the ordinary person has the two: the knowledge of knowing the meaning, and the knowledge of knowing the Dharma. And so penetrates the twofold no-self — because he has these two knowledges, the ordinary person is able to penetrate the twofold no-self of person and dharmas. In order to perfect those knowledges, he practices according with the Dharma as taught — in order to perfect those two knowledges, the bodhisattva should practice in accord, following the Dharma as it has been taught. In just this way it is called "according with the Dharma."

When those knowledges are perfected, they are supramundane and unsurpassed; whatever those who abide in the first ground attain, [the newly entered] all share in that attainment.

Next this shows "sharing the attainment." When those two knowledges are perfected, they are "supramundane and unsurpassed," because the substance of that knowledge is most supreme. The "first ground" is the Joyful Ground [歡喜地; 極喜地, the first ground]. Whatever merits are attained by all the bodhisattvas who abide in the Joyful Ground, the one who has just entered the ground also "shares in that attainment" — as soon as he enters the ground, what he attains is the same as what those long abiding there attain.

The afflictions eliminated on the path of seeing, know, are all exhausted; he cultivates the remaining grounds in turn only in order to cut off the obstruction to knowledge. Know that within the grounds a non-conceptual establishing arises in sequence without interval — this is called practicing accordingly.

Next this shows the bodhisattva's "practicing accordingly." The afflictions to be cut off on the path of seeing are, on entering the first ground, all exhausted; therefore the cultivation of the remaining grounds is only in order to cut off the obstruction to knowledge (智障; 所知障, the cognitive obstruction). And within the grounds there are two knowledges: first, non-conceptual knowledge (無分別智, nirvikalpa-jñāna — the bodhisattva, within right contemplation, attains dharmas moment by moment without discriminating them); second, the knowledge that establishes the grounds (地建立智 — after the bodhisattva emerges from contemplation, [he knows] the measure of the dharmas attained in contemplation, just so and so). These two knowledges cannot arise together, nor can any other dharma be interposed between them as they arise; they must proceed constantly without interval — this is called the bodhisattva's "practicing accordingly."

When the bodhisattva can practice accordingly in this way, he has the "four wheels of heedfulness" (four supporting conditions that drive practice on without slackening): first, the wheel of the excellent land; second, the wheel of the good person; third, the wheel of setting oneself right; fourth, the wheel of former merit. These are told now in order.

Easy to find, and well guarded, a good site and good companions, good stillness — this is the excellent land; the bodhisattva should be reborn there.

The wheel of the excellent land (a supreme dwelling place) has five conditions: first, easy to find — because the four requisites [robes, food, bedding, medicine] for sustaining the body are not hard to obtain; second, well guarded — because the king is lawful, and evil people, robbers, and thieves cannot dwell there; third, a good site — because the place is temperate and free of pestilence; fourth, good companions — because there are fellow travelers of the same precepts and the same view for company; fifth, good stillness — because there is no clamor by day and no sound at night. The bodhisattva should be reborn in such an excellent land.

Much learning and the seeing of the truth, skillful teaching and compassion, non-retreat — this is the true man, the bodhisattva's excellent support.

The wheel of the good person (a supreme teacher and friend) likewise has five conditions: first, much learning — because he has mastered the scriptural tradition (阿含, āgama); second, the seeing of the truth — because he has attained the noble fruit; third, skillful teaching — because he can distinguish the Dharma; fourth, compassion — because he does not covet gain; fifth, non-retreat — because he is without weariness. Such a true man is the bodhisattva's excellent support.

Good conditioning and good gathering, good cultivation and good teaching, good going-forth — these five are called the excellence of setting oneself right.

This verse shows "the wheel of setting oneself right" (making oneself correct). Setting oneself right also has five conditions: first, good conditioning, because it takes the wondrous Dharma as its object; second, good gathering, because it is complete in both merit and wisdom; third, good cultivation, because tranquillity and insight are cultivated at the time when they are in mutual accord; fourth, good teaching, because he teaches without seeking gain; fifth, good going-forth, because toward all the higher dharmas he cultivates with reverence.

Delightful and free of hardship, free of illness and stilled, contemplate these five: they come from wholesome roots planted in former lives.

This verse shows "the wheel of former merit" (the merit-fruit planted in former lives). Former merit also has five conditions: first, delightful; second, free of hardship; third, free of illness; fourth, samādhi (stillness); fifth, wisdom. Of these, the first comes about with "abiding in the excellent land" as its cause; the second comes about with "meeting the good person" as its cause; and the latter three all come about with "the accomplishment of setting oneself right" as their cause.

(The four wheels of heedfulness have now been told; next is told "bringing the afflictions out through the afflictions.")

Apart from the dharma-realm there is no separate dharma of desire; therefore the Buddhas say that desire is brought out through desire, and the rest likewise.

As the Buddha said before: "I do not say that there is a dharma other than desire that can bring one out of desire" — and it is the same with hatred and delusion. Because, apart from the dharma-realm, desire and the rest have no separate substance; therefore "the dharma-nature of desire and the rest" receives the name "desire and the rest." This says that "the dharma-nature of desire and the rest can bring one out of desire and the rest" — this meaning is the import of the scripture.

Because, outside the dharma-nature, there are no separate dharmas, therefore it is said in this way: the afflictions are just awakening.

As it is said in the scripture: "Ignorance and awakening are one and the same." This means: the dharma-nature of ignorance is designated with the name "awakening" — this meaning is the import of the scripture.

Toward desire he gives rise to right reflection; toward desire he attains liberation; hence it is said that desire is brought out through desire — and so with hatred and delusion.

If a person, toward "desire," gives rise to right reflection and contemplates as it really is — having known thus, he attains liberation right there in desire. Therefore it is said "one is brought out of desire through desire"; and being brought out of hatred and delusion is likewise.

(Bringing the afflictions out through the afflictions has now been told; next is told "leaving behind the mind of the two vehicles.")

The bodhisattva dwells in hell, for beings' sake not shrinking from the pain; to relinquish existence and arouse the lesser mind — that pain is the fiercest.

The bodhisattva, out of loving-kindness and compassion, enters the great hells for the sake of beings and does not shrink from that great pain; but were he to "extinguish the merits of the three existences and arouse the mind of the lesser vehicle," the bodhisattva would take this as the gravest and deepest of pains. 〔Question〕What does this mean?

Though he ever dwells in hell, it does not obstruct the great awakening; but should he arouse a mind of self-benefit, that is an obstruction to the great awakening.

Though the bodhisattva enters the great hells for a long time for beings' sake, he does not regard it as pain — why? Because it is no obstruction to the vast and pure awakening. But should he arouse the self-benefiting mind of "the other vehicle, delighting in nirvāṇa," that is the great pain — why? Because it obstructs "delighting in abiding in the great vehicle." (This verse clarifies the meaning of the previous verse.)

(The blocking of the mind of the two vehicles has now been told; next is told "blocking the mind of fear.")

Without substance yet available — this matter is like an illusion; naturally pure and undefiled — this matter is like space.

Without substance yet available — this matter is like an illusion — all dharmas have no self-nature, so we say "without substance"; yet one still sees a semblance appearing, so we say "available." Ordinary people give rise to mutual fear toward these two — "without substance" and "available" — but this should not be so. Why? Because it resembles an illusion: just as illusory forms and the like truly have no substance yet appear so as to be seen, so too is the "without substance yet available" of dharmas; therefore toward these two one should not be afraid. Naturally pure and undefiled — this matter is like space — the dharma-realm is originally pure, so we say "naturally pure"; later, freed of the dust, it is pure, so we say "undefiled." Ordinary people give rise to mutual fear toward these two — "naturally pure" and "undefiled" — but this too should not be so. Why? Because it resembles space: just as space is by nature pure, and later too is said to be pure once freed of dust, so too are the "naturally pure" and the "undefiled" of the dharma-realm; therefore toward these two one should not be afraid.

(Beyond this there is yet a "like a painting" simile, which can block the former two fears.)

Just as a skilled painter paints hollows and reliefs on a flat wall, so too does false discrimination, on what has none, see grasper and grasped.

Just as a skilled painter can paint the appearance of hollows and reliefs on a flat wall — there being truly no high and low, yet high and low are seen — so too is untrue discrimination: on the dharma-realm, which is equal and without the two marks, it constantly sees the two marks of "grasper and grasped." (Knowing this to be what false discrimination manifests,) one should not be afraid.

(Herein there is again a "like water" simile, which can block the latter two fears.)

Just as clear water, once muddied, returns to its original clarity when the filth is removed, so too is one's own mind purified — only because the adventitious defilements are removed.

Just as clear water, when filth comes, is muddied; and later, if it becomes clear, only the filth has been removed — the "clarity" does not come from outside, because the water's nature is clear. So too is the mind's purification-by-means [purity attained through cultivation]: the mind's nature is originally pure, and it is defiled because of adventitious defilements; and later, when it is purified, only the adventitious defilements are removed — the "purity" does not come from outside, because the mind's nature is pure. Therefore one should not be afraid.

It has been said: the mind's nature is pure, yet is defiled by adventitious defilements; not apart from the mind's suchness is there a separate purity of the mind's nature.

Just as water's nature is of itself clear yet is muddied by adventitious filth, so too the mind's nature is of itself pure yet is defiled by adventitious defilements (this meaning is now established). By this principle: it is not that, apart from the "suchness of the mind," there is a separate other mind called "naturally pure" — rather, it is with reference to the "other-dependent mark" that it is said to be naturally pure. Here it should be known: to say that the "suchness of the mind" is named "mind" is just to say that this mind is "naturally pure"; this mind is precisely the immaculate consciousness (阿摩羅識, amala-vijñāna, the undefiled consciousness).

(The blocking of fear has now been told; next is told "blocking the fault in desire.")

The bodhisattva mindful of beings loves them to the very marrow, ever wishing to benefit them, as though [each were] an only child.

The bodhisattvas love beings — loving them into the very marrow of the bone, ever wishing to benefit them, just as one cherishes an only child — and this (in terms of the name) is also called "desire." The rest of the meaning is as stated in the verse.

Because it is bent on benefiting the multitude of beings, this arising of desire incurs no fault; hatred is the opposite of that, for it ever wishes to harm others.

To say that "the bodhisattva's desire, arising from love of beings, is a fault" — this is not so. Why? Because this "desire" is ever a cause of benefiting beings (the very opposite of hatred, which harms others — it is hatred that ever wishes to harm).

As a dove toward its own young shelters them and gives rise to utmost love, so too the person of compassion, in loving beings, is likewise.

Just as a dove has much desire and cherishes its young with the utmost love, so too the bodhisattva of great compassion cherishes beings with the utmost love, likewise.

Loving-kindness runs counter to the hating mind; the mind that stills suffering counters the mind that inflicts it; benefit runs counter to non-benefit; fearlessness counters the mind of fear.

Toward beings, the bodhisattva: by attaining the mind of loving-kindness, runs counter to the mind of hatred; by attaining the mind that stills suffering, runs counter to the mind that inflicts suffering; by attaining the mind of benefit, runs counter to the mind of non-benefit; by attaining the mind of fearlessness, runs counter to the mind that inflicts fear. Therefore the "desire" (love) that the bodhisattva gives rise to cannot be called a fault.

(The blocking of the fault in desire has now been told; next is told "the divisions of practice.")

He practices well in birth-and-death, as a sick man takes bitter medicine; he practices well toward beings, as a physician draws near the sick; he practices well upon his own mind, as one disciplines a servant not yet trained; he practices well amid the objects of desire, as a merchant trades well; he practices well in the three kinds of action, as a man washes clothes well; he practices well without troubling others, as a father toward his beloved child; he practices well in cultivation, as one drills for fire without ceasing; he practices well in samādhi, as [entrusting] wealth to a trustworthy person; he practices well in wisdom, as a conjurer who knows the illusion. This is called the bodhisattvas' good practice amid all objects.

The bodhisattvas' practice has nine divisions:

1. First is practicing well in birth-and-death: just as a sick man takes bitter, astringent medicine only in order to cure the illness, and gives rise to no greedy attachment, so too the bodhisattva draws near to birth-and-death only in order to reflect and spur himself on, not for the sake of attachment.
2. Second is practicing well toward beings: just as a good physician draws near the sick, so too the bodhisattva, out of great compassion, does not abandon beings afflicted by the illness and suffering of the afflictions.
3. Third is practicing well upon his own mind: just as a wise master can skillfully discipline a servant not yet trained, so too the bodhisattva can skillfully discipline the mind not yet disciplined.
4. Fourth is practicing well amid the objects of desire: just as a merchant is skilled at trade, so too the bodhisattva increases his "capital" (merit) in giving and the other perfections.
5. Fifth is practicing well in the three kinds of action: just as one skilled at washing clothes can remove the filth and grime, so too the bodhisattva, cultivating and refining the three actions of body, speech, and mind, can make them pure.
6. Sixth is practicing well without troubling beings: just as a loving father cherishes his little child and, though the child is dirty, does not loathe him, so too the bodhisattva, when beings inflict harm upon him, has never given rise to anger or vexation.
7. Seventh is practicing well in cultivation: just as, drilling wood for fire, one does not stop before it is hot, so too the bodhisattva, in cultivating wholesome dharmas, has never had a mind of interruption.
8. Eighth is practicing well in samādhi: just as entrusting wealth to a trustworthy person yields daily increase, so too the bodhisattva, cultivating the concentrations without distraction and without savoring them, has his merits increase.
9. Ninth is practicing well in wisdom: just as a conjurer knows the illusion to be unreal, so too the bodhisattva, toward the dharmas he contemplates, attains non-distortion.

This is called the divisions of the bodhisattva's practice.

(The divisions of practice have now been told; next is told "the purity of the three spheres.")

Ever diligent in great vigor, he ripens the two and makes them pure; pure awareness, without discrimination, gradually attains awakening.

Ever diligent in great vigor, he ripens the two and makes them pure — the bodhisattva, by the power of great vigor, diligently performs the two benefits of self and others; therefore beings and himself alike come to be ripened, and this is called "purity." Pure awareness, without discrimination, gradually attains awakening — "pure awareness" means the knowledge of the no-self of dharmas; this knowledge does not discriminate the three spheres — namely, the one who cultivates, that which is cultivated, and the right cultivating — and so it attains purity. Because of this purity, one gradually accomplishes supreme awakening.

(Here the chapter on Practice in Accord ends.)

The Chapter on Proclaiming the Dharma sent the Dharma outward; but the Dharma's home ground must, in the end, come down upon practice — and this is "practice in accord": to practice in accord with the true Dharma. This chapter first states the eyes of practice (knowing the meaning, knowing the Dharma, practice in accord, shared attainment, practice as it goes), then states the four kinds of supporting condition that uphold practice (the four wheels of diligence), then sweeps away several diseases of the mind that beset the road of practice (timidity before the lesser vehicle, dread of "existent or non-existent," doubt over love and attachment), and finally, with nine similes, says the whole shape of practice through to the end, coming home to "the purity of the three spheres."

I. The eyes of practice: knowing the meaning, knowing the Dharma — the Dharma is like a raft for crossing

Having thus known the meaning, one knows the Dharma is like a raft; hearing the Dharma, one should not be delighted — to let the Dharma go is called knowing the Dharma.

Practice must first have "eyes." The first is knowing the meaning — to know that both persons and dharmas are "without self" (grasper and grasped alike have no real substance), and to know further that the three concentrations of emptiness, of the signless, and of the wishless "part from both the wrong and the right" (they can draw forth supramundane knowledge, so they are not wrong; they still belong to the mundane, so they are not right). The second is knowing the Dharma, and here comes a most crucial reminder: the Dharma is like the raft that crosses a river.

To cross a river one relies on a raft; but once one reaches the shore, one ought to set the raft down — you cannot go on carrying the raft as you walk. It is just so with "the Dharma": one must not stop where one is, merely delighted at having heard a good Dharma, still less grasp the Dharma itself as truly existent and cling to it and not let go. The Dharma is what carries you across the river of the afflictions; it is not something to be hoarded. To be able to "take up this Dharma, and also to set it down" — this is called "knowing the Dharma." With the two eyes of knowing the meaning and knowing the Dharma, one then "practices in accord with what has been taught" (practice in accord), and only then is practice not blind.

II. Enter one ground, and there is shared attainment; the two knowledges must be unbroken

When that knowledge is accomplished, supramundane and unsurpassed, whoever abides on the first ground — all that they attain is shared attainment.

Practice through to the "path of seeing," ascending to the first ground (the Joyful Ground, 歡喜地) — there is one excellent thing here: one who has only just entered the ground shares the very merit that the bodhisattva long abiding on this ground attains — not given a fraction less because one is newly arrived. One sees from this that a "ground" is a state of direct realization: ascend to it and one attains the whole of it at once; it is not amassed bit by bit. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕One may feel it through a line of the Madhyama Āgama: "As the water of the great ocean is salty, all of one single taste" — the ocean's water, whether near the shore or in the depths, is salty with an equal, single taste; those who ascend to one same ground, what they realize is equal and of one taste too, not two kinds for the new and the long-abiding. (Chinese T01n0026.)

Once one has entered the ground, how does one go on? The afflictions to be severed on the path of seeing are, upon entering the first ground, already exhausted; from then on, cultivating the remaining grounds is chiefly to sever the "obstruction to knowledge" (the cognitive obstruction). Within each of the grounds there are two knowledges — in concentration, attaining the Dharma without discrimination (non-conceptual knowledge), and, on emerging from concentration, discriminating the measure of the Dharma so attained (the knowledge that establishes the grounds); these two knowledges must "proceed unbroken" (not intermixed, not interrupted), and this is "practice as it goes." Practice at its depth is just this: concentration and wisdom alternating, close-woven and unceasing.

III. The four supporting conditions of practice: the four wheels of diligence

Easily sought and well guarded, a good land and good companions, well quieted — this excellent land…

Practice is not a solitary forcing-through. The treatise, with fine care, sets out four "wheels of diligence" (the supporting conditions that push you on so you do not slacken):

• The wheel of the excellent land — a good environment: food and clothing easily got, good order and security, climate and terrain in harmony and free of plague, companions of the same way for fellowship, calm and quiet with little clamor.
• The wheel of good persons — good teachers and friends: learned, having seen the truth, skilled in speaking, kind and pitying without craving gain, and not falling back.
• The wheel of setting oneself right — a good self: taking the wondrous Dharma as one's support, complete in merit and wisdom, cultivating tranquillity and insight in their due times, teaching the Dharma without seeking gain, and reverencing the highest Dharma.
• The wheel of former merit — a good root from the past: to be at ease, without hardship, without illness, possessing concentration, possessing wisdom.

These four wheels are very much down to earth: environment, teachers-and-friends, self-discipline, and merit from the past — whether practice can be sustained, of these four not one may be lacking. The first three can be worked at right now (choosing one's place, drawing near a teacher, urging oneself on); the fourth is cultivated over former lives — yet if the first three are done well, they are precisely the seeds of the "former merit" of a life to come.

IV. "The afflictions are awakening" as hidden intent: restricted to the nature-of-dharmas

Apart from the dharma-realm there is no separate dharma of greed… Because apart from the nature-of-dharmas there is no separate dharma, therefore it is said: the afflictions are themselves awakening.

This is the deepest passage of the chapter, and also the most easily misunderstood. The treatise cites the Buddha's word: "I do not speak of any dharma 'other than greed' that could deliver one from greed"; and uses "ignorance and awakening are one and the same" for naming the "nature-of-dharmas of ignorance" as "awakening." It therefore says that "the nature-of-dharmas of greed and the rest can deliver one from greed and the rest." The prose commentary immediately marks this as "the sūtra's intent": a hidden meaning stated with respect to the nature-of-dharmas, not an identification of active affliction, just as it stands, with awakening.

〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 Ice and water may help an initial reader understand "not seeking apart from the nature-of-dharmas," but the image is not cited by the treatise. It is not evidence that affliction and awakening are one identical substance, and it cannot support the claim that a single immediate turn of thought is already the realization of awakening. The treatise still speaks here of right reflection upon greed and contemplation of it as it truly is; the scope of its hidden meaning remains bounded by the nature-of-dharmas.

〔cross-text borrowed simile〕 The Chapter on the Way of the Buddha in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra says, "As the lotus flower does not grow on the high dry ground, but grows in the low, wet mire," and "it is in the mire of the afflictions that beings give rise to the Buddha-dharma." (Chinese T14n0475.) This may be compared as an image for practicing without separating from affliction, but it belongs to another scripture and does not prove that active affliction itself is awakening. The lotus grows from mire without being stained by mire: the image therefore does not license indulgence or realization without contemplative practice.

It must be said with due weight: the treatise marks this as "the sūtra's intent" — a hidden meaning spoken with respect to the non-duality of the nature-of-dharmas. This exposition transmits that restriction. It does not expand "the afflictions are awakening" into an identity of substances or a verdict of instantaneous realization, and it does not decide further doctrine upon it.

V. Sweeping away three diseases of the mind on the road of practice: timidity before the lesser, dread, doubt over love

On the road of practice there are three diseases of the mind, and the treatise sweeps each one away.

The first disease: timidity before the śrāvaka vehicle.

Though ever dwelling in hell, this does not obstruct the great awakening; if the mind of self-benefit arises, that is an obstruction to the great awakening.

These words startle at first hearing: for the sake of beings the bodhisattva enters the great hells over long kalpas, yet "does not count it as suffering," and it does not obstruct awakening; but let there once arise the śrāvaka mind of "I seek only my own release, taking delight in nirvāṇa," and that is "the gravest suffering," an obstruction to the great awakening! The treatise lays bare a plain but severe principle: the greatest danger in practice is not to enter suffering, but to turn back the mind. To enter hell to deliver beings does not harm awakening; to turn back and seek one's own release is what truly ruins the great vehicle.

Why does one thought of self-benefit, turned back, ruin the very root of buddhahood? The Vimalakīrti Sūtra, through the mouth of Mahākāśyapa, has the śrāvaka state his own plight with respect to the great vehicle: "With respect to this great vehicle, we are already like a scorched seed" — like a seed that has been roasted (a spoiled seed), which, even meeting good soil and good water, can never sprout again. Though the śrāvaka has severed the fetters, with respect to the Buddha-dharma he is "of no further benefit," like "a man whose faculties are ruined" who can no longer be profited by the five desires. (Chinese T14n0475.) This simile takes only one side: it speaks of how that one thought — "falling back into the settled position of the lesser vehicle, sealing oneself off in one's own release" — ruins the seed of buddhahood; it is not a praising or disparaging of practitioners of the two vehicles themselves. To turn back and seek self-benefit severs precisely this sprout of buddhahood — and this is why "the arising of the mind of self-benefit is an obstruction to the great awakening."

The second disease: dread of "existent or non-existent." Ordinary beings, once they hear "the dharmas have no substance and yet can be perceived," "the mind's nature is originally pure and yet has defilement," start with alarm to left and right: is it "existent," or is it "non-existent"? Is it "pure," or is it "defiled"? The treatise settles their minds with four similes — like an illusion (without substance yet perceivable, just like an illusory image — why fear it?), like space (both the purity of nature and the purity of parting from the dust — just like empty space — why fear it?), like a painting (a painter draws hollows and reliefs on a flat wall; the flat surface has no high or low of its own; false discrimination sees "grasper and grasped" falsely upon the equal dharma-realm, no more than that). Most moving of all is like water:

As clear water, when muddied, has its filth removed and returns to its original clarity, so with the purity of one's own mind: it is only the parting from the adventitious dust.

A basin of clear water, when filth comes, turns muddy; and once cleared again, all that has happened is that the filth has been removed — that "clarity" was not ladled in from outside; the water was clear to begin with. So too the mind: the mind's nature is originally pure, and only because of the "adventitious dust" (defilement come from outside) is it defiled; when later it is purified, all that happens is that the adventitious dust is removed — that "purity" is not gotten from outside; the mind was pure to begin with.

The doubt "if it is originally pure, how can it hold defilement?" already has ready-made similes in the sūtras to settle the mind. On one side is the direct statement of the Śrīmālā Sūtra: "This intrinsically pure tathāgata-garbha is yet defiled by the adventitious defilements and the derivative defilements" — "that the intrinsically pure mind should have defilement is hard to understand"; what is defiled is the "adventitious dust," the guest come from outside, not that the originally pure nature itself has changed its quality. (Chinese T12n0353.) On the other side is the figure taken by the Tathāgatagarbha Sūtra: "It is like true gold fallen into a place of filth, sunk out of sight and unseen through the passing of the years, the true gold unspoiled yet unknowable" — the true gold falls into the filth, buried past all recognizing, yet the gold's own nature is not marred by a hair; remove the filth, and the gold appears. The sūtra makes it plain of itself: "the place of filth is the measureless afflictions; the true gold, the jewel, is the tathāgata-garbha." (Chinese T16n0666.) One sees that the defilement is only "the soiling of a place," never "a loss of the gold's nature"; the purity is not gotten from outside, but is one's own from the first, awaiting only the removal of the adventitious dust to show forth.

So the treatise says: it is not that, apart from "the mind's suchness," there is some separate pure mind; it is just this intrinsically pure mind-of-suchness that is named "the immaculate consciousness" (阿摩羅識, the stainless consciousness). What is stated here is that the mind's nature is originally pure and adventitious dust can be removed. This exposition does not turn that into a ready guarantee that every person's adventitious defilements must depart and purity must manifest.

An ancient master, reading this passage, took just this line as his ground: Taehyŏn, in his Study Notes on the Cheng Weishi Lun, cites this very text of the present chapter, holding that "the mind's suchness," "the intrinsically pure mind," and "the immaculate consciousness" denote one and the same thing. As to whether the immaculate consciousness is to be set up separately as "a ninth consciousness," the ancient masters have differing views among themselves; this exposition only transmits the intent of this one line faithfully, and does not decide for one side upon it.

The third disease: doubt over love and attachment.

Because of the intention to benefit the throng of beings, the greed that arises incurs no fault… As a dove, over its own young, spreads a covering and gives rise to utmost love, so one who has compassion, in his love for beings, is likewise.

The bodhisattva loves beings, loves them "to the very marrow, as an only child" — and this, in the vocabulary, is also called "greed." Is this "greed" a fault, then? The treatise answers cleanly: it is not. Because this "greed" is ever a cause of benefiting beings — the exact opposite of anger, which "ever intends to harm others." It takes the simile of a dove covering its chicks: the dove is much given to greed, and its love in guarding its chicks is most intense; the bodhisattva is much given to compassion, and his love for beings is just this intense. One sees that the bodhisattva's "love" and the ordinary being's "greed" are alike in form but other in substance — loving-kindness, the quieting of suffering, benefit, and fearlessness are, item by item, the opposites of anger, the making of suffering, non-benefit, and the making of fear. The deep love that arises for the sake of others' benefit need not be doubted as a fault.

VI. Nine kinds of shape that practice takes

Well practicing within birth-and-death, like a sick man taking bitter medicine… well practicing in wisdom, like a conjuror who knows the conjured trick.

The treatise, with nine similes, draws the very form of the bodhisattva's practice to life: within birth-and-death, like a sick man taking bitter medicine (only to cure the illness, giving rise to no greed or attachment); toward beings, like a good physician drawing near the sick (out of compassion not forsaking those afflicted with the illness of suffering); toward his own mind, like a wise master taming an unbroken servant; toward the six dusts, like a merchant skilled at trade (increasing the "capital" of merit); toward the three kinds of action, like a launderer washing out the filth; toward beings' harm and offense, like a loving father toward a small child, not spurning him though he is soiled; toward cultivation, like drilling for fire and not resting until it is hot (never once broken off); toward concentration, like entrusting one's wealth to a trustworthy person, yielding interest day by day; toward wisdom, like a conjuror who knows the conjured to be unreal (not turned upside-down about the dharmas contemplated).

Taking the nine similes together, they are one single figure: within birth-and-death, "present yet undefiled"; toward beings, "near yet not forsaking"; in the wholesome dharmas, "diligent yet unbroken"; toward all objects, "knowing yet not grasping."

VII. The purity of the three spheres: to practice until one forgets "I am practicing"

Ever diligent in great vigor, one matures the two and makes them pure; the pure awareness, without discrimination, gradually attains awakening.

At the last it comes home to "the purity of the three spheres." The bodhisattva, with great vigor, diligently practices the twofold benefit of self and others, bringing both beings and himself to maturity — this is "purity"; and a deeper layer of purity still is that "pure awareness" (the knowledge of the no-self of dharmas) not discriminating "the three spheres" — the one who practices, the Dharma practiced, and the very practicing itself. Practice, cultivated to its utmost, sets down even these three layers of thought — "I am practicing, what it is I practice, how I practice" — and only then is it truly pure; and from this purity, one gradually accomplishes the unsurpassed awakening.

Conclusion: take the Dharma as a raft; read the hidden intent through the nature-of-dharmas and contemplative practice

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on Practice in Accord speaks of bringing the Dharma "down upon practice": to have the eyes of knowing the meaning and knowing the Dharma (the Dharma is like a raft for crossing, and once across the river one must set the raft down), to have the help of the four wheels of diligence (environment · teachers-and-friends · self-discipline · merit from the past), to sweep away the three diseases of the mind (timidity before the lesser, dread of "existent or non-existent," doubt over love and attachment), to transmit the sūtra-intent of "the afflictions are awakening" (a hidden meaning stated with respect to the nature-of-dharmas, inseparable from right reflection and contemplation as it truly is, and not a verdict that active affliction itself is awakening), to practice within birth-and-death by the nine similes (present yet undefiled, diligent yet unbroken), and at last "the purity of the three spheres" — forgetting even "I am practicing."

To close in a phrase: true practice takes the Dharma as a raft and sets it down once the river is crossed; reads the hidden intent with respect to the nature-of-dharmas without separating it from contemplative practice; and remains present yet undefiled within birth-and-death, letting go even of "I am practicing."