大乘莊嚴經論 義疏通講

The Chapter on the Occasion is the "preface" to the whole treatise. When a treatise opens, it must first answer one root question: what, in the end, is this treatise doing? The answer lies in the two words of the title — "adornment" (莊嚴). To adorn is to embellish, to bring to light. This chapter makes clear: who, with what, and for whom "adorns the Mahāyāna scriptures"; and — a most pressing doubt — since the wondrous Dharma of the Great Vehicle is of itself complete and perfect, why does it still need "adorning"? The ancient masters read the title of this treatise in just this way: what is called "adornment" means that this treatise is able to adorn the Mahāyāna scriptures, and so it is named the "Treatise Adorning [the Mahāyāna Scriptures]" — the title itself already points out that the whole treatise's business is "adornment."

I. Who adorns, with what, and for whom: the five questions that open the teaching

Through the wisdom of meaning the various meanings are drawn forth; the words and phrases are all undefiled; to rescue suffering sentient beings, because compassion is its nature. Skillfully expounding the Dharma of skillful means — namely, the supreme vehicle — for those who arouse the great mind, it is set forth in brief under five aims.

The prose commentary opens the book with a string of questions and answers, laying out at one stroke the whole provenance of the treatise. Follow the questions down and the skeleton comes clear:

• Who is able to adorn? — the wisdom of meaning (義智), the wisdom that penetrates the meaning of the doctrine.
• With what does one adorn? — with words and phrases, and they must be "undefiled" words and phrases: words that can lead a person to nirvāṇa, phrases whose every character answers exactly to its sense. Apart from undefiled words and phrases, no meaning, however deep, can be opened up.
• Why adorn? — to rescue sentient beings who are suffering; because the bodhisattva has great compassion for his substance, and cannot but pity them when he sees their suffering.
• What Dharma is adorned? — the "Dharma of skillful means" (方便法) that the Tathāgata skillfully expounds, that is, the "supreme vehicle" (the Great Vehicle).
• For whom does one adorn? — for those who have aroused the mind of the Great Vehicle.

There is a layer of deep meaning here that is easily overlooked: "adornment" relies on "words and phrases," and words and phrases are used to point out the wondrous Dharma; they are not the wondrous Dharma itself. Since this collection bears the name "Pointing at the Moon" (指月), it is apt to feel the matter through "pointing at the moon with a finger": the Buddha-Dharma is like the moon in the sky, and words and phrases are like the finger that points at the moon. What "adornment" does is to wipe this moon-pointing finger perfectly clean and bright, so that a person may follow it and see the moon — not so that a person may stare at the finger and take the finger for the moon. The Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra has exactly this simile: "It is like a man pointing at a thing with his finger; the little child looks at the finger and does not look at the thing"; and it warns the student not to "grasp and cling by following the finger of words and speech ... in the end unable to let go of the finger of the letter and take hold of the ultimate truth" — the little child stares only at that finger and does not look at what the finger points to, which is to cling to the "finger of the letter" and lose the "ultimate truth." So although the passage below is exceedingly careful about the adornment of words and phrases, the student must remember: to adorn words and phrases is, in the end, to lead you to see that "moon beyond the words."

II. The five similes: a single road from "faith" to "realization"

Like gold wrought into a vessel, like a flower just opening, like eating fine food, like understanding written words, like opening a jeweled casket — each of these brings its joy; the Dharma adorned under the five aims brings joy just so.

How do those "five aims" adorn? The prose commentary matches them with five most intimate similes, and — hidden within them — a sequence that runs from the shallow to the deep: turning toward faith, receiving the teaching, reflecting, cultivating, and realizing.

• Like gold wrought into a vessel — first it makes a person "turn toward faith": raw gold refined into a fine vessel is lovely and useful; it can move his heart, and only then is he willing to have faith.
• Like a flower just opening — next it makes a person "receive the teaching": once the flower opens, its fragrance and color are present, and one is naturally drawn near to receive the teaching.
• Like tasting fine food — further it makes a person "reflect": once the flavor of the Dharma enters the mouth, he is willing to savor it slowly and ponder it deeply.
• Like understanding written words — still further it makes a person "cultivate": once the letter and the meaning are grasped, there is no more doubt, no more empty musing, and he can settle into real practice.
• Like opening a jeweled casket — finally it makes a person "realize": once the casket opens, the treasure is present — one awakens to and realizes for oneself the treasure of the "true factors of awakening."

Faith, receiving, reflecting, cultivating, realizing — the five similes are not five metaphors picked up at random, but a complete course by which a student passes from the first stirring of his heart to the realizing of the fruit. To adorn the Great Vehicle is to draw a person up, step by step, along just this road.

III. If the Dharma is already perfect, why must it still be adorned? — the simile of the mirror

Here the prose commentary poses that sharpest of questions: since the wondrous Dharma of the Great Vehicle is of itself complete in qualities, why must it still be adorned? — and moreover be urged upon people for their reverence and faithful acceptance? It answers first with a simile:

Like a fine substance that, brought before a mirror, gives rise to surpassing joy, so, the wondrous Dharma once adorned, the joy attained is first of all.

Just as a substance already fine and fair, once slightly embellished and cast into a mirror, gives rise to surpassing joy — why? because "a delightful mark has now shown forth." The bodhisattva is likewise: he takes the adorned meaning of the wondrous Dharma into his own mind, and great joy arises — because "there is Dharma to be heard, there are qualities to be received."

This answer is crucial. In the prose commentary's account, adornment does not manufacture additional qualities for the wondrous Dharma; it is like a mirror that makes a delightful form appear, so that the bodhisattva receives the Dharma's meaning and great joy arises. The simile concerns the function by which an adorned meaning becomes manifest and the beholder rejoices; this exposition does not derive from it a separate thesis of "inherent perfection" in either the Dharma or the reader.

IV. The three qualities of the wondrous Dharma: a good medicine, serving the king, seeing the jewel

Like the bitterness of drinking medicine — when the illness is cured it becomes pleasure; dwelling in the letter and understanding the meaning: bitterness and pleasure are just so. Like the hardship of serving the king — through the service one gains his mighty power; so with the meaning hard to understand — through understanding one gains the wealth of Dharma. Like seeing a raw jewel — not discerned, it is not loved; so with hearing the wondrous Dharma — not awakened to, it brings no joy.

In the last three verses the prose commentary answers head-on "what, after all, is good about this Dharma," setting out the three qualities of the wondrous Dharma, each matched with a simile — and the three similes share one flavor: all of them are "bitter first and sweet after," reminding the student not to turn back at the "bitter" stretch.

• The cause of cutting off the obstruction (bitter medicine to the mouth): bitter medicine is hard to swallow at first, and only when the illness is cured does one know it to be a pleasure. So too with studying the Dharma — while one merely stops at the letter, it is most bitter, and the flavor is hard to come by; once one understands the meaning, the illness of the obstruction is broken, and it turns to pleasure.
• The cause of sovereign freedom (serving the mighty king): to serve a king of awesome majesty is at first a hardship, for it is hard to please him, and afterward a pleasure, for one gains the shelter of his mighty power. So too with studying the Dharma — reflecting is bitter, for the meaning is deep and hard to understand; once one has pondered it through, and nourished the wealth of the noble path, it becomes a pleasure.
• The cause of wondrous joy (recognizing the raw jewel): a jewel raw from the earth, while one does not know its worth, seems useless and is not loved; once one recognizes it, one holds it deeply dear. So too with studying the Dharma — at the beginning of practice one doubts it as empty and useless and feels no joy; once one has practiced to the point of knowing its great use, one delights in it deeply.

The three similes taken together are one heartfelt word to every beginner: the goodness of the wondrous Dharma often lies hidden in the latter half of "hard first, then easy; astringent first, then sweet." To feel bitterness among the letters, difficulty before the deep meaning, and no flavor at the start of practice — all this is normal; do not turn your head away at the bitter place, for the sweetness lies further on.

Conclusion: a single gateway into the whole treatise

Though the Chapter on the Occasion is but six verses, it is a gateway into the entire Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra. It fixes, at one stroke, the occasion of the whole treatise: with the wisdom of meaning and undefiled words and phrases (like a moon-pointing finger polished bright), it adorns the Tathāgata's Dharma of skillful means (the supreme vehicle), for those who arouse the great mind, drawing them in along the five stages of "faith — receiving — reflecting — cultivating — realizing"; the mirror simile presents adornment as making the wondrous Dharma's delightful form manifest so that the hearer rejoices and receives it; as for the goodness of the wondrous Dharma, it must be won by patience through the three stretches of "bitter first, sweet after," and only then are the true flavors of cutting off the obstruction, of sovereign freedom, and of wondrous joy to be tasted. Push open this gateway, and the vast ocean of meaning in the twenty-three chapters that follow can be entered, in order, step by step.

The Chapter on Establishing the Teaching answers one very sharp challenge: "This great vehicle — is it truly what the Buddha spoke?" Some doubt that the great vehicle was preached by the Buddha in person, and this chapter is the treatise's argument "establishing that the great vehicle is Buddha-word."

Let the bounds of this exposition be made plain first: this exposition only makes clear how the treatise establishes and answers — which reasons it raises, and how it replies to each of the opponent's rejoinders. As for whether the great vehicle really is Buddha-word — that great case in the history of Buddhism — it is not this exposition's to adjudicate; we faithfully transmit the treatise's argument and pass judgment for neither side. What the reader reads is "the treatise's argument for establishing it."

I. The eight reasons: the treatise establishes that "the great vehicle is Buddha-word"

Not foretold, and running alongside; not something [others] practice, and yet a thing accomplished; substance, non-substance, capacity to cure, and difference of letter — by these eight reasons it is established.

The treatise opens by setting out eight reasons, answering the doubt that "the great vehicle is not Buddha-word" one by one:

1. Not foretold — the precedent: when a former Buddha's Dharma is about to be exhausted and a later Buddha appears in the world, the Buddha always "foretells" the coming alterations. If the great vehicle were a counterfeit passing itself off as the true Dharma, why did the World-Honored One not foretell it at the outset, not sound a warning? There being no such foretelling, this on the contrary shows it to be the true Dharma.
2. Running alongside — the śrāvaka vehicle (聲聞乘, the vehicle of the listeners) and the great vehicle have from of old run alongside each other in the world at one and the same time, neither before nor after the other; on what grounds does one single out the great vehicle alone and call it not Buddha-word?
3. Not something [others] practice — the great vehicle is deep and vast, not something the person who merely conjectures can believe or carry out; and in all the treatises the outsiders have devised, no such seed of Dharma is anywhere to be found. That the outsiders cannot practice it is exactly what shows it to be no ordinary thing.
4. A thing accomplished / 5. Substance / 6. Non-substance — these three are "advancing by giving ground": if you change your tune and say "it was some other Buddha, in some other place, who had a great vehicle," you have on the contrary confirmed that "a Buddha spoke the great vehicle"; and if you say "this Buddha had no substance of the great vehicle, only the śrāvaka vehicle is Buddha-word," you fall into the gaping hole of "how could a Buddha appear who does not speak the Buddha-vehicle and yet preaches only the śrāvaka vehicle."
5. Capacity to cure — practicing according to the great vehicle really can give rise to non-conceptual knowledge (無分別智, the knowledge free of subject-object discrimination) and really can break the afflictions; with such actual effect, how can one say there is no great vehicle?
6. Difference of letter — the great vehicle is very deep, and its intent does not lie on the surface of the letter; one should not take the meaning by the letter throughout and thereupon judge it to be not Buddha-word.

Then the opponent gives ground a step and says: "Perhaps the Buddha's not foretelling it at the outset was simply the Buddha, with a mind of no-exertion, naturally 'letting it go' and not foretelling." The treatise answers:

The Buddhas have three grounds — present seeing, and guarding the Dharma; the Tathāgata's knowledge is unobstructed — that he should "let it go" cannot be.

The Buddhas are never without three things at any time: the knowledge of no-exertion arises unceasingly, and the eye [of Dharma] sees unceasingly; they unceasingly make right effort, and guard the true Dharma; and the power of their knowledge has not the least obstruction. Being a Buddha thus clear of eye, guarding the Dharma, and unobstructed in knowledge, how could he "let go" a counterfeit passing for the true Dharma and give no warning? This talk of "letting it go and not foretelling" does not hold together.

II. The śrāvaka vehicle is not simply the great vehicle: four reasons and five differences

Not complete, and not "not contrary"; not the practice, and not the instruction — therefore the śrāvaka vehicle is not simply the great vehicle.

The opponent says again: "Then let the śrāvaka vehicle be the very substance of the great vehicle (by the śrāvaka vehicle one can also become a Buddha)." The treatise raises four reasons to strike this down: the śrāvaka vehicle has no instruction for benefiting others (not complete); cannot count as benefiting others (not "not contrary" — even where it incidentally settles others, it still seeks only its own nirvāṇa); is not the means to the great awakening (not the practice); and has none of the great vehicle's kind of instruction (not the instruction). On that phrase "not the practice," the treatise uses a vivid comparison:

It is like milking a horn to get milk — it cannot be got.

To try to squeeze milk out of a horn — however hard, however long you press, none will come, because that is simply not the place milk comes from. To seek the fruit of the great vehicle by the practice of the śrāvaka vehicle is exactly so: the direction is wrong, and long practice brings no gain. This comparison the old masters took up too: Taehyŏn, in his Notes on the Study of the Cheng Weishi Lun, in explaining the reason "not the practice," abridges and cites this very simile of the chapter (his text reading "like milking an ox-horn, no milk comes out") — proof enough that in the old masters' hands this simile had already become a fixed figure for teaching this point.

Going a step further, the treatise lists five kinds of mutual contrariety, to mark off clearly the divide between the two vehicles:

The arousing of the mind and the instruction, the means and the sustaining power, the span of time — lower and upper vehicles: in these five things they differ altogether.

The arousing of the mind, the instruction, the diligent means — in the śrāvaka vehicle all are for "attaining one's own nirvāṇa," in the great vehicle all are for "benefiting others"; the sustaining power (the strength of upholding) — the śrāvaka's is little (its store of merit and wisdom is small), the great vehicle's is much (its store of merit and wisdom is great); the span of time — the śrāvaka's is short (liberation in as few as three lifetimes), the great vehicle's is long (passing through three great incalculable aeons). Since these five things are contrary in every one, one should not take a lesser-vehicle practice to seek a great-vehicle fruit. Here the passage does not disparage the śrāvakas; it only distinguishes "two roads, two fruits, not to be confounded."

III. The great vehicle is not contrary to the "three marks of Buddha-word"

The opponent attacks from another angle: "Buddha-word has three tests — that it enter the discourses, accord with the discipline, and not run contrary to the emptiness of dharmas; your great vehicle teaches that 'all dharmas are without self-nature,' which violates these three marks, and so is not Buddha-word." The treatise answers:

It enters its own great-vehicle scriptures; it manifests its own extinguishing of the afflictions; its vast and very deep meaning is not contrary to its own emptiness of dharmas.

The great vehicle precisely does not run contrary to these three marks — only, they must be seen within the great vehicle's own tradition: it enters the discourses of its own tradition, the great-vehicle scriptures; it manifests the afflictions'-cure of its own tradition (the bodhisattva takes "discrimination" itself as the affliction to be cut off — this is the great vehicle's "discipline"); and that vast and very deep meaning of its own is itself the "emptiness of dharmas" the bodhisattva cultivates — not being contrary to this emptiness of dharmas, it precisely attains the great awakening. Far from being contrary to the three marks, it fulfills them completely.

IV. Conjecture cannot enter; the vast and the very deep — these two skillful means are the unsurpassed vehicle

Dependent [on hearsay] and unsettled, apprehending only the conventional and not even universally, shrinking back — how should the man of conjecture understand the great vehicle's meaning?

The treatise says: the man who relies only on "conjecture" (guessing and inference) cannot enter the domain of the great vehicle, because his knowledge has five shortcomings — dependent (it arises depending on a teaching heard, not on direct realization), unsettled (at one moment another view will pop up instead), apprehending only the conventional (it can only gauge worldly principles, and does not reach the ultimate truth), not universal (even in gauging the conventional it gets but a fragment), and shrinking back (as soon as debate presses him to the wall he falls silent). 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕The Saṃyukta Āgama has a verse that catches this disproportion of measure exactly: "As the water of the great ocean is not held by an ox's hoofprint, so the ocean of the Buddha's knowledge cannot be upheld by other men." A little puddle stamped out by an ox's hoof cannot hold a whole ocean — this is not that the ocean is not deep, it is that the puddle is too small. That the man of conjecture cannot gauge the great vehicle is exactly this principle: that it will not fit, that it cannot be gauged, is not the same as its not being there.

〔Question〕Then what is the true means to becoming a Buddha?

The vast and the very deep: maturing [beings], and the non-conceptual — these two, called the two skillful means, are just the unsurpassed vehicle.

The treatise answers: two things — the vast (the manifold supernormal powers, by which, with the utmost diligent means, one brings beings to belief and understanding — this is "maturing beings") and the very deep (non-conceptual knowledge, hard to practice and hard to realize — this is "maturing the Buddha-Dharma"). These two skillful means, "the vast and the very deep," are the means to the unsurpassed awakening, and are the very substance of the unsurpassed vehicle.

V. One should not take fright: do not turn back at the depths

The treatise then turns to a very practical concern: facing so deep a Dharma, some will be afraid — and it earnestly warns that to be wrongly afraid where one ought not to fear carries a fault (idle fright at the deep Dharma, and slandering it thereafter, brings on the searing torment of the evil destinies).

One should not fear, yet fears; through fear one is set aflame … Without the lineage, without the Dharma-fellowship, of little wisdom and little cause: fearing this deep and wondrous Dharma, one falls away from the great awakening.

The treatise points out that the root of this fright lies mostly in four places: having no lineage, being far from the good friend, wisdom not yet reaching (not yet understanding the emptiness of dharmas), and roots of good not yet thick. The essential thing is to see clearly the object of the treatise's words here — what the passage admonishes is "idly giving rise to fright, and slandering thereafter," not the honest "I do not yet understand."

The treatise then lays out in one breath eight reasons why "there is in fact nothing to fear," dismantling the pretexts for fear one by one:

If not different, then mutually without; if different, then a place of peril; beyond compare, taught in manifold ways; taught continuously, taught by many gates. Not to be taken by the letter — the Buddhas' very deep substance: the wise who observe rightly should know there is nothing to fear.

1. If not different, then mutually without — if you say "the great vehicle just is the śrāvaka vehicle, there being no separate substance of the great vehicle," then by the very same principle the śrāvaka vehicle and the pratyekabuddha vehicle would have no substance of their own either (since in the end they all revert to the Buddha-vehicle). That being so, why fear the great vehicle alone?
2. If different, then a place of peril [that calls for trusting faith] — if you grant that the great vehicle has a separate substance of its own, then that substance is "the path of all-knowledge," the foremost, the most exalted place of peril (extremely deep, extremely hard to cross over). Toward such a height, what one should do is look up in trusting faith, not be afraid.
3. Beyond compare (nothing to set beside it) — at any one time there are not "two great vehicles" appearing together to be set side by side and compared; on what ground, then, would you fear this one and not fear that? The fear is wholly without reason.
4. Taught in manifold ways — the great vehicle does not teach only a single "emptiness"; it also teaches the vast store of merit and wisdom. One should grasp this whole layer of meaning — why single out "emptiness" alone to fear?
5. Taught continuously — this "emptiness" is the constant teaching, expounded continuously at all times; you are not hearing it for the first time all of a sudden. It being a right teaching carried through from beginning to end, why fear it?
6. Taught by many gates — the scriptures use many gates — "suchness, the nature of dharmas, the reality-limit," and the like — to teach it, precisely to break the manifold discriminations and give rise to non-conceptual knowledge. If it were not taught by these many gates but only baldly as one "emptiness," it would on the contrary have no great use; since the many gates are all for great use, why fear "emptiness" alone, this one gate?
7. Not to be taken by the letter — the great vehicle is very deep and does not lie on the surface of the letter; why go and take the meaning by the letter, and then fear at the very letter-meaning you have taken wrongly?
8. The Buddhas' very deep substance — the Buddha-nature is deep and hidden, hard to be aware of on short acquaintance; this is just the case for seeking an understanding of it with an open mind — the harder to gauge, the more one should seek to understand, not turn back and be afraid.

The eight reasons told through, they gather into one line: the truly wise, who can observe rightly, facing the great vehicle, should not take fright.

Last, the treatise once more gently dissolves several pretexts for "fear," one by one:

"Not understanding; the understanding is not deep; the deep is not for thought to reach; understanding the deep gains liberation" — none of these frights should be.

"This Dharma I do not understand," "even what the Buddha understands may not be truly deep," "why is it that this is precisely not the domain of deliberation," "why is it that only the one who understands the deep meaning gains liberation" — not one of these four mutterings amounts to a reason to "fear it, slander it." In other words: not understanding is a temporary not-understanding; simply set it aside in all honesty and seek to understand with an open mind — why fear, why slander? Toward the deep Dharma, the posture the treatise teaches one to take is always trusting faith — as toward a hard peak to climb, one need not fear it; to revere it, to look up to it, and to climb it step by step is just the thing.

VI. Do not slander what you have not heard; do not follow your own mind

The last several verses come down to the very duty a student should keep.

By stages, hearing, thinking, cultivating, one gains the Dharma and gains wisdom; this wisdom practices this Dharma — while not yet gained, do not disparage.

The wisdom that can practice this Dharma is nurtured layer upon layer, by relying on the good friend and following "right hearing → right thinking → right knowledge → realizing the Dharma → the wisdom of liberation." From this the treatise sets up one thoroughly fair rule: if you yourself have not yet walked to that step, have not yet gained such wisdom, you ought not arbitrarily to pronounce that it "is not Buddha-word."

Through small faith, small element, and [small] companions, one does not understand the deep and great Dharma; and it is by your not understanding that my unsurpassed vehicle is established.

The treatise uses once more that principle of "the ox-hoofprint cannot hold the ocean": small in faith, small in capacity (small the seed perfumed within the consciousness), and small too the companions one keeps — naturally one does not believe there is any separate great vehicle. Yet "that you cannot hold it" is exactly the proof of "its depth." The ox-hoof puddle cannot hold an ocean, and by this the ocean's depth is shown the more.

The treatise closes with three admonitions, each of them heartfelt counsel to one who truly seeks the Dharma.

First, an admonition against slander —

By what one hears one gains awakening; what one has not heard, take care not to disparage. The measureless remainder is unheard — the slanderer works a deed of delusion.

By your small share of hearing you have already come to some awakening; you should not, the moment you hear something unheard-before, give rise to slander. What is unheard-before is still so much (roots of good not yet amassed, the unheard is naturally the greater part); once you slander without discrimination, you but increase the deed of delusion, and destroy along with it the awakening you had before.

Second, an admonition against wrong thought —

When one takes the meaning by the letter, following one's own mind, one falls away from true wisdom; slandering discourse and slighting the Dharma — from this the great fault arises.

"Following one's own mind" is holding to one's own view alone and refusing to seek the meaning from those who have wisdom; taking the meaning by the letter in this way, the true understanding falls away. From this come slandering discourse (disparaging good teaching) and slighting the Dharma (envying what one has heard), and what these draw on is the great fault of undergoing great suffering in a body to come.

Third, an admonition against malice —

Malice is by its own nature evil; being unwholesome, it should not be aroused — how much less shifted onto a wholesome thing? It should be cast off, for the great fault's sake.

"Malice" is a mind of hatred and envy; it "is by its own nature evil" (it is itself a sin) — it should not be aroused even toward a Dharma that has faults, how much less shifted onto the faultless great vehicle? Such a great fault should be cast off with all haste.

In a phrase: before a Dharma that is deep and not yet heard, the surest posture is to hold one's doubt and seek understanding, not to slander rashly.

Conclusion: a treatise of "establishing"

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on Establishing the Teaching is the treatise's closely-reasoned treatise of "establishing" — the eight reasons establish it directly; four reasons and five differences distinguish the two vehicles; it reconciles the three marks of Buddha-word; it rebukes conjecture; it sets up the two skillful means, the vast and the very deep, as the substance of the unsurpassed vehicle; and then, layer by layer, it blocks off fright, slander, wrong thought, and malice. It is at once a vigorous defense of the Dharma and a setting-out, for every student, of a measure for study: before a Dharma deep and not yet reached, better to look up in trusting faith and hold one's doubt than to follow one's own mind and slander lightly.

At the last, let the bounds of this exposition be stated once more: all the foregoing, point by point, is to make clear the treatise's argument — how tightly it establishes, how methodically it answers; as for the final right-and-wrong of that case, "is the great vehicle Buddha-word," this exposition does not adjudicate, but leaves it for the reader and the history of the teaching to work out.

The Chapter on Establishing the Teaching established the great vehicle; and now that the student can trust it, the very first thing to be done is to "take refuge." But what this chapter treats is not refuge in the ordinary sense — it is the "refuge of the great vehicle," which differs from ordinary refuge at one root point.

Here is a comparison. Ordinary refuge is like a traveler caught in wind and rain who runs to shelter under some eaves — what he seeks is "a support for himself." The refuge of the great vehicle, however, is a traveler who, even as he shelters from the rain, sets up a resolve: I too will become a house, so that every traveler under heaven may have a place to shelter. So the great vehicle's refuge is not merely "finding a support"; it is "vowing to make oneself the support of all sentient beings" (which is just becoming a buddha). This chapter first tells why it is the most supreme of refuges, and then goes on, step by step, to how the one who takes refuge is born and grows up like a prince, and at last attains the buddha-fruit.

I. Why the great vehicle's refuge is the most supreme: the four marks

If a person takes refuge in the Three Jewels, the great vehicle's refuge is the first; for it is all-pervading and valorous, and in its fruit attained none can match it.

Among all refuges in the Three Jewels, the treatise says the great vehicle's refuge is the very first, and this rests on four kinds of "greatness": all-pervading (a boundless breadth of mind), valorous (vow and practice both robust), fruit attained (what is gained is vast), and unmatched (the other vehicles cannot catch up). And precisely because it stands so high, it is hard both to arouse and to carry through, and those able to take it are few; precisely because it is so hard, its supremacy shows.

II. Hard to arouse and hard to accomplish — all the more should one set up a great resolve

Hard to arouse and hard to accomplish; one must have a great resolve of mind; in order to accomplish the benefit of self and others, one should make the supreme refuge.

The treatise states plainly how hard this road is: the "vow" is hard to arouse (for the great vow runs deep and wide), and the "practice" is hard to bring to fullness (for it must pass through measureless eons). Yet its point is not that one should draw back, but that precisely because it is hard, all the more should one set up a great resolve. Why is it worth it? Because this one refuge accomplishes "the twofold benefit of self and others" — outwardly, the vow-and-practice of benefiting others (vow-and-practice is the cause of good renown); inwardly, the great meaning realized for oneself (the great meaning is the fruit of one's own substance). Its very difficulty is proof of how much it weighs.

III. The all-pervading: how far the breadth of mind reaches

Pervading beings, pervading the vehicles, pervading in wisdom, pervading in the quelling, this is called, of the one of wisdom, the fourfold all-pervading.

The first "greatness" of the great vehicle's refuge is the "pervasion" of the breadth of mind, pervading to four places: pervading beings (what one would deliver is "all" sentient beings, with no picking of near from far), pervading the vehicles (one is versed in the dharmas of all three vehicles, the better to meet every kind of capacity), pervading in wisdom (one has penetrated both kinds of no-self — of persons and of dharmas — leaving no dead corner), and pervading in the quelling (one knows that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are "one taste in substance," and no longer falsely parcels out fault on the one side and merit on the other).

This fourth, "pervading in the quelling," is the deepest. The treatise's wording is that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are "one taste in substance" and that fault and merit are not discriminated between them. This exposition reports that account of "pervading in the quelling" without adding that they are one identical substance bearing two names according to delusion and awakening.

IV. The valorous and the good birth: the birth of a child of the Buddha

Longing for the buddha-awakening, the arduous practice never turning back, the awakening equal with all the buddhas — the valorous supremacy has three.

The second "greatness" is the valorous, in three parts: supreme vow (when taking refuge in the Buddha one seeks the great awakening and is filled with joy, for one knows well the surpassing virtue of that awakening), supreme practice (once on the road one neither turns back nor bends, but singly practices the arduous practices), and supreme fruit (in becoming a buddha, one is awakened equal with all the buddhas — not an awakening a rank lower). By this valor, the child of the Buddha "ever attains a good birth" — again and again receiving an excellent birth.

This "good birth" the treatise sets out through a set of four womb-similes, telling the road to buddhahood as a most natural "bearing and rearing":

Arousing the mind and the perfection of wisdom, the store filled to fullness, and great loving-kindness — the seed and the birth-mother, the womb and the nurse, are excellent.

The mind of awakening is the seed, the perfection of wisdom is the birth-mother, the two stores of merit and wisdom are the womb, and great compassion is the nurse — faith and vow are sown, wisdom conceives, merit-and-wisdom nourishes the womb, great compassion gives suck; and just so is an awakened one borne and reared. (These four similes accord with what the Chapter on Arousing the Mind says; only in the one item "womb" do they differ — the Chapter on Arousing the Mind takes "the great bliss of meditative concentration," this chapter takes "the two stores of merit and wisdom" — the figure taken differing a little, the sense running through as one.)

The excellent marks accomplish the power of birth, great bliss and great skillful means: these four accomplishments — this is called the excellent body.

Having been well born, one gains the four accomplishments of the "excellent body": supremacy of form (the body adorned with excellent marks, surpassing that of a wheel-turning king), supremacy of power (the sovereign power to bring sentient beings to maturity), supremacy of bliss (the boundless bliss of quelling at the buddha-ground, of the highest kind), and supremacy of wisdom (the great skillful means to save sentient beings). Form, power, bliss, and wisdom all complete — this is the mark of the Buddha's child being well born.

V. The child of the Buddha as prince and as great minister: the buddha-lineage unbroken

Light and installation, sovereignty in the Dharma, skill in teaching, good governance and gathering: by these four causes, the buddha-lineage is not cut off.

The treatise next draws an apt comparison: the child of the Buddha is like a "prince." In the world, the royal lineage is unbroken because of four things — receiving the office and ascending the throne, an ascendancy that none can defy, skill in judging and deciding, and clear reward and punishment. The child of the Buddha has four corresponding causes that keep "the buddha-lineage unbroken": receiving light and being installed (all the buddhas send forth a great light and, consecrating him, install him in his office, as the crown prince receives his investiture), sovereignty in the Dharma (in all dharmas his wisdom is sovereign and none can defy him), skill in teaching (amid the assembly of buddhas he skillfully expounds the Dharma, as a prince decides affairs before the court), and good governance and gathering (toward those who keep the precepts, he can govern their faults and gather in their merits, as reward and punishment are made clear).

The scene of this "receiving light and being installed" is set out most plainly in the Avataṃsaka Sūtra, Chapter on the Ten Grounds: the crown prince born of the chief queen of a wheel-turning sacred king is set by the king's command upon a white-elephant throne; "one takes the water of the four great oceans and puts it in a golden vase, and the king takes this vase and pours it over the crown prince's head," and the moment the water is poured over his head, he is at once said to "receive the royal office," and is counted among the anointed kṣatriya kings — "the bodhisattva's receiving of office is likewise: because the buddhas' water of wisdom is poured over his head, it is called receiving office," and he falls thereby into the number of the buddhas.〔exposition-borrowed simile · Avataṃsaka Sūtra, Chapter on the Ten Grounds (the Dharma-Cloud ground)〕The world, by the water of the four great oceans poured over the head, sets up a king; the house of the Buddha, by the buddhas' water of wisdom poured over the head, confers the office of awakening — "receiving light and being installed" is just this pouring.

The deep sense of this comparison is: though the child of the Buddha has not yet become a buddha, he is already born into the house of the Buddha and destined to ascend the seat of awakening. To take refuge in the great vehicle is to "recognize that one is born into the house of the Buddha, a prince who succeeds to the buddha-throne" — not a shelter-seeker lodging under another's roof.

Entering the perfections, seeing the factors of awakening, holding the secrets, benefiting sentient beings: by these four causes, he comes to resemble a great minister.

Not only like a prince, but also like a "great minister" — one who can take part in the vital business and get great things done. A great minister has four capacities: to enter the king's forbidden palace, to behold the royal house's wondrous treasures, to be privy to the king's secret words, and to bestow rewards at will. The valorous bodhisattva has four capacities too: ever entering well the perfections (as one enters the forbidden palace), ever beholding, in scripture after scripture, the treasure of the factors of the great awakening (because he does not forget the Dharma, as one beholds the wondrous treasures), ever holding the three secrets of the Tathāgata's body, speech, and mind (as one is privy to the secret words), and ever benefiting boundless sentient beings (as one bestows rewards at will). Both a prince who succeeds to the throne and a minister who handles affairs — such is the standing, in the house of the Buddha, of one who takes refuge in the great vehicle.

VI. The fruit gained by taking refuge: the eight fruits and the dharma-body

Merit and honor, the bliss of existence and the ending of suffering, the realized bliss and the realized dharma-mass, the perfuming exhausted, existence-relinquished and cessation-relinquished.

The treatise counts out the eight fruits of the great vehicle's refuge, from shallow to deep, like a set of milestones on the road to buddhahood: at the time of resolute faith one gains a great store of merit → at the time of arousing the mind one gains honor within the three realms → when (for the sake of delivering beings) one takes birth, one gains bliss within the three modes of existence → when one understands the equality of self and others one gains the ending of the great mass of suffering, and gains too the power to "end the suffering of all sentient beings" → when one enters the acceptance of the non-arising of dharmas one realizes the highest bliss → when one attains awakening one realizes the dharma-body → the perfuming one has undergone, being defiled, is forever ended without remainder → and at last one gains the relinquishing of existence and of cessation.

Of these, the sixth, the "dharma-body," the treatise especially praises with four names: great (for it is the ground on which the boundless treasury of scriptural dharma rests, as the great ocean takes in the hundred rivers), supreme (the highest among all dharmas), constant (never coming to an end), and the store of the good (the amassing of all good dharmas — the powers, the fearlessnesses, and the rest). And the last, "existence-relinquished and cessation-relinquished," is most worth pondering: "relinquishing existence" is not abiding in saṃsāra, "relinquishing cessation" is not abiding in nirvāṇa — one halts at neither side. This is precisely the resting-place of the greatly compassionate one: able to abide in nirvāṇa yet unwilling to abide there alone, he stays long in saṃsāra for the sake of sentient beings — the fruit of refuge comes to rest on this compassion-and-wisdom of "not abiding at either side."

VII. The other vehicles cannot match it, the sixfold distinction, the practice of self and others

Great in substance and great in meaning, boundless and inexhaustible, by the good, mundane and supramundane, by maturing and by supernormal powers.

The fourth "greatness" is "unmatched": the roots of good of one who takes refuge in the great vehicle are such that the two vehicles cannot catch up — his mundane roots of good already surpass those of the two vehicles (great in substance), his supramundane roots of good can benefit others and not only himself (great in meaning), his maturing roots of good can bring boundless sentient beings to maturity (boundless), and his supernormal-power roots of good are inexhaustible even up to the nirvāṇa without remainder (inexhaustible).

Longing and great compassion, all-kinds-of-knowledge and non-retrogression, the threefold going-forth and the twofold attainment: the distinction has six kinds.

The treatise then distinguishes refuge from six angles: with longing as its own nature (seeking buddhahood with the whole heart), with great compassion as its cause (for the sake of all sentient beings), with all-kinds-of-knowledge (種智, the omniscient knowledge of the buddha-fruit) as its fruit (attaining the unsurpassed awakening), with non-retrogression as its function (never bending in the arduous, others-benefiting practice), with the threefold going-forth as its correspondence (complete in the going-forth of all three vehicles), and with the twofold attainment as its class (the mundane attainment and the dharma-nature attainment, coarse and fine). One "refuge," it turns out, has this many layers.

Refuge holds a great meaning, the store of merit grows and increases, with mind and compassion pervading the world, broadly spreading the great sacred Dharma.

Finally he points out that the "great meaning" of refuge is just the practice of benefiting self and others: inwardly, the merit grows without ceasing, measureless and boundless (however one ponders it, counts it, or reckons its span of time, it cannot be measured out, for it runs on to the very end); outwardly, with an intending mind and with compassion it pervades all sentient beings, broadly raising up skillful means and spreading abroad the "great sacred Dharma" (which is the great vehicle). That refuge is "great" comes at last to rest on this actual practice of "compassion pervading the world, broadly spreading the true Dharma."

Conclusion: taking refuge is lifting one's head and recognizing one's home

Read whole, the Chapter on Taking Refuge tells why the "refuge of the great vehicle" is great: it pervades (the breadth of mind pervading beings, the vehicles, wisdom, and the quelling), it is valorous (supreme in vow, practice, and fruit), it gains a great fruit (the eight fruits ending in the dharma-body, abiding at neither side), and the other vehicles cannot match it (four kinds of surpassing); and in between, through the four womb-similes and the figures of the prince and the great minister, it shows that the one who takes refuge is a child of the Buddha, "born into the house of the Buddha and succeeding to the buddha-throne."

To close in one line: the refuge of the great vehicle is not merely bowing the head to beg a shelter, but lifting the head to recognize that one is born into the house of the Buddha, and resolving to become oneself the support of all sentient beings. With a refuge like this, all that follows below — arousing the mind, the twofold benefit, and the whole of the bodhisattva path — finds the ground on which to stand.

Within the treatise’s own framework, the Chapter on Lineage explains the starting point of the bodhisattva path through “lineage” (gotra). It argues for possessing a lineage from nine sides, then presents the state of no lineage, and finally explains drawing beings in and the growth of lineage into a great tree of awakening. This exposition reports that structure without using it to classify any present reader.

The treatise uses “lineage” for the capacity for buddhahood, figured as an inner seed, and first presents an argument that this lineage has substance. What follows reports that argument; it does not presuppose it as the only possible adjudication.

The first verse raises all nine sides at once:

There are its being, its supremacy, its self-nature, and its marks, its classes, its faults, and its qualities, the simile of gold and the simile of the jewel: nine kinds, each of four kinds.

Lineage may be seen from nine sides — its having a substance, its supremacy, its self-nature, its marks, its classes, its faults, its qualities, the simile of gold, and the simile of the jewel; and each side is further divided into four items. The passages below expound them one by one.

One · That lineage truly has a substance: seen from four differences

By reason of the elements, and by reason of faith, by reason of practice, and by reason of fruit — by these four differences one should know that the lineage has a substance.

How does the prose commentary argue that lineage has substance? It reasons back from four kinds of difference, inferring lineage as their ground.

• Difference of elements: beings have all manner of "elements" (界, the essential natures of the seeds, the root kinds), differing without measure. It is precisely because these underlying seeds differ that the lineages of the three vehicles differ.
• Difference of faith: each person has his own bent of faith — some incline toward this path from birth, some arouse it only on meeting a condition; and moreover a single person can usually raise true faith toward one vehicle only, and not toward all three alike. If faith differs, the nature behind it must differ.
• Difference of practice: with the same cultivation, some can advance and some cannot. If practice differs, the nature must differ.
• Difference of fruit: the awakening realized has its low, middling, and high. This is just like "sowing melons and reaping melons" — what seed you sow, that fruit you reap (the prose commentary says "seed and fruit resemble each other"). If fruit differs, the seed must differ.

This is the treatise’s mode of argument: it does not point out a separate seed, but infers lineage from the differences it describes.

Two · This seed of the bodhisattva is the most excellent

Bright-and-pure, and all-embracing, of great meaning, and inexhaustible: by these four excellences of its good roots, the lineage attains the first place.

Why does the treatise rank the bodhisattva lineage as excellent? The prose commentary raises four points, all falling upon the quality of the “good roots”:

• Bright-and-pure: the bodhisattva's good roots are bright and pure; the good roots of the listeners and the rest are not so bright and pure.
• All-embracing: they have the power of embracing and of fearlessness, not narrow and small like ordinary people's good roots.
• Great meaning (benefiting others): others' good roots benefit only themselves, whereas the bodhisattva's good roots can benefit others — this is a difference in kind.
• Inexhaustible: others' good roots are spent once they enter nirvāṇa, whereas the bodhisattva's good roots are drawn upon without ever running dry.

By these four qualities, the treatise ranks the bodhisattva lineage as excellent.

Three · Innate and cultivated: the "self-nature" of the lineage

The innate lineage and the cultivated lineage, the supporting and the supported: one should know it as existent and as non-existent, for it has the sense of "quality" and "bringing across."

What, in itself, is the structure of this seed? The prose commentary divides it into four layers: the innate lineage (性種, the innate-abiding lineage — that portion inherently possessed, so of dharma-nature, from beginningless time), the cultivated lineage (習種, the lineage formed through cultivation — that portion fostered afterward by hearing the Dharma and perfuming practice), and their relation as "supporting" and "supported." To draw a comparison: the innate lineage is like the seed already buried in the ground, and the cultivated lineage is like the watering and banking-up of soil that later raise it — the one is the inborn base, the other the increase through perfuming; the two rest upon each other.

This pair of terms is spoken of more plainly in the treatises of the same lineage. The Yogācārabhūmi divides lineage into "first, the innate-abiding lineage (本性住種姓); second, the lineage formed through cultivation (習所成種姓)": the innate-abiding one is "handed down turning and turning from a beginningless world, obtained by the very nature of things (法爾所得)" (there from the start), while the cultivated one is "obtained by prior repeated practice of good roots (先串習善根所得)" (fostered afterward); and moreover "both kinds are taken" — not one chosen of two, but base plus cultivation together making the whole. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕The same treatise gives, besides, a serviceable way to tell them apart: a seed that has not yet been perfumed into bearing fruit is "called subtle, because it has as yet no fruit (說名為細，未有果故)"; one already perfumed, whose fruit is about to appear together with it, is "called coarse, because it is together with its fruit (說名為麁，與果俱故)." The Bodhisattvabhūmi (菩薩地持經) says it more plainly still: "For one who does not cultivate, the fruit is subtle and the fruit is far; for one who cultivates, the fruit is coarse and the fruit is near." — one and the same seed: uncultivated, that trace of news is subtle and far, as though behind a veil; but let one be willing to perfume and cultivate, and it turns from subtle to coarse, from far to near, its fruit visibly about to set. So although the innate lineage is inherently possessed, it still awaits the cultivated lineage to raise it: what is inherent, if never watered, stays forever only a "subtle and far" trace; raised up, it grows "coarse and near" into full stature.

Then follows one weighty point of adjudication: is the lineage "existent" or "non-existent"? The prose commentary answers with precision — spoken of on the side of "cause," it exists (as the cause of buddhahood, the seed does exist); spoken of on the side of "fruit," it is non-existent (the buddha-fruit has not yet arisen, so of course the substance of the fruit is not yet present). 〔Question〕That being so, on what ground is it called "nature"? 〔Answer〕Because it has the sense of "bringing across" (度) — it can "bring forth" qualities. Only what can bring forth qualities deserves to be called "nature." Only what can sprout and bear fruit counts as a seed; a mere dead grain of sand does not.

Four · The marks of the lineage: four dispositions of heart make it known

Great compassion, and great faith, great endurance, and great practice: where these marks are found, that is called the bodhisattva-nature.

A seed buried in the soil cannot be seen, but it lets news of itself show through in outward marks. The bodhisattva lineage has four discernible marks:

• Great compassion: seeing all beings that suffer, it grieves for them and cannot bear it.
• Great faith: toward the Dharma of the great vehicle, it delights and deeply trusts.
• Great endurance: toward all hard-to-do austerities, it can bear up and shoulder them.
• Great practice: it is willing to cultivate throughout all the perfections (the practices that reach the far shore).

The treatise takes compassion, faith, endurance, and practice as marks of bodhisattva lineage. This exposition reports that classification and does not apply it to classify present persons.

Five · Classes, faults, qualities: the seed has its circumstances too

Once the seed is in the ground, one must still reckon with season and human affairs. The prose commentary speaks in turn of three matters.

Classes (settled or not) —

Settled, and unsettled, not-turning-back, or falling-back: as, in due order, they meet conditions, the classes are of four kinds.

The bodhisattva lineage divides in brief into four classes: settled, unsettled, not-turning-back, and falling-back. The key lies in the two words "meeting conditions": the settled, meeting adverse conditions, still does not turn back; the unsettled, meeting adverse conditions, then falls back. Being the same good seed, cast into differing favorable or adverse conditions, the outcome then differs.

Faults (four drags upon it when not yet developed) —

One should know the bodhisattva-nature has, told in brief, four faults: habit-defilements and evil companions, poverty, and being subject to another.

Though the seed be good, it can also be dragged down by four things: habit-defilements (ingrained afflictions ever manifesting, so that qualities on the contrary fail to act), evil companions (parting from good spiritual friends, keeping close to bad people), poverty (want of the requisites of support), and being subject to another (not one's own master, bound in subjection to others). This warns the learner: to guard the seed well, one must keep far from these four troubles.

Qualities (four benefits that remain even should it fall into evil destinies) —

Its qualities too are of four kinds: though it fall into an evil destiny, late to enter and quick to come out, its suffering thin, and its compassion deep.

According to this verse, even one of bodhisattva lineage who falls for a time into an evil destiny retains four qualities: late to enter, quick to come out, suffering thin, and compassion deep. The seed in a crack of rock is only an expository image; this passage reports the treatise’s classification and does not adjudicate anyone’s lineage.

Six · Gold and jewel: the rich store held within the seed

The prose commentary next uses the two similes proper to this treatise to show how deep the lineage's store is.

As with the nature of fine gold, what it brings forth is of four kinds — all the good and all the wisdoms, all purity and all the powers.

Fine gold has four virtues: it is exceedingly plentiful, radiant, without stain, and pliant. The bodhisattva lineage is just like this gold — because it is exceedingly plentiful, it is the support of measureless good roots; because it is radiant, it is the support of measureless wisdom; because it is without stain, it is the support for exhausting the afflictive obstruction and the cognitive obstruction and attaining purity; because it is pliant, it is the support of all the supernormal powers and transformations. A piece of good gold can be wrought into ten thousand vessels; a good seed can open into the good, the wisdoms, purity, and the powers.

As with the nature of a wondrous jewel, a cause of four kinds of accomplishment — of the great fruit and the great wisdom, the great concentration and the great meaning.

A wondrous jewel has four accomplishments: it is true (true in substance), it has color (fine of hue), it has form (well-fashioned), and it has measure (full in weight). The bodhisattva lineage is just like this jewel — because it is true, it is the cause of the great awakening; because it has color, it is the cause of great wisdom; because it has form, it is the cause of great concentration (concentration is accomplished through the mind's abiding fixed); because it has measure, it is the cause of the great meaning (benefiting others), accomplishing boundless beings. Gold is a simile for its power to bring forth all virtues, the jewel a simile for its power to accomplish the great fruit: a single seed turns out to be a rich store.

Seven · The state of no lineage: an old and great question

Ever practicing evil conduct, utterly cutting off all pure dharmas, having no portion of liberation, its good scant and, moreover, without cause.

Having spoken of "possessing a lineage," this chapter must honestly face the other side: is there such a thing as a person with "no lineage"? The prose commentary says that one "having no dharma of nirvāṇa" (無般涅槃法, no nature tending toward nirvāṇa) is one in the "state of no lineage," which divides in brief into two —

• Those with a time-bounded absence of the dharma of nirvāṇa: comprising four kinds of person (those ever practicing evil, those utterly cutting off good dharmas, those without the good roots of the portion of liberation, those whose good roots are not complete). This kind is "for a time": should conditions turn, there is still a chance.
• Those utterly without the dharma of nirvāṇa: because they lack that "cause," therefore (so far as the wording of this treatise goes) they have no nature tending toward nirvāṇa — meaning those who only crave birth-and-death and take no delight at all in nirvāṇa.

Whether all beings finally become buddhas is an old controversy in Han Buddhist interpretation. This treatise and the Ci’en lineage speak through the five lineages; Tiantai, Huayan, and tathāgatagarbha traditions offer different one-lineage and icchantika interpretations. This exposition reports the present chapter’s account and records the alternatives without deciding which is definitive. Above all, it does not use the treatise’s categories to classify any present person.

Eight · Drawing in, and conclusion: the root of the auspicious tree

Broadly setting forth the deep and great Dharma, making them faithful, making them supremely enduring, to the ultimate great awakening: the two who know, and the excellence of the two natures.

According to this passage, the Buddha draws in those not yet entered by first producing great faith, then supreme endurance, and finally progress toward unsurpassed awakening. This is the sequence stated by the treatise and reported here without independent adjudication. 〔Question〕How does the treatise distinguish its excellence?

It grows the tree of awakening, gives rise to joy and extinguishes suffering, with the benefit of self and other as its fruit: this excellence is like an auspicious root.

The prose commentary closes with the treatise’s final simile: lineage grows the great tree of awakening and bears self-benefit and benefit of others as fruit; the treatise therefore calls it excellent, like the root of an auspicious tree. This exposition reports the relation stated by the simile and makes no further lineage judgment.

Conclusion: the whole life of a single seed

Seen whole, the chapter presents an argument for lineage having substance, four excellences of bodhisattva lineage, innate and cultivated lineage, four marks, classes, faults, qualities, and the similes of gold and jewel; it then states the condition of no lineage and closes with the auspicious-tree root. This is the sequence of the treatise’s own position. The exposition reports it without classifying readers or deciding between one lineage and five.

The Chapter on Lineage said that "there is a seed"; the Chapter on Arousing the Mind speaks of that seed's first sprouting — the "arousing of the mind of awakening." To arouse the mind of awakening is to set up an aspiration: to seek the unsurpassed awakening above, and to deliver inexhaustible beings below. The whole path of the bodhisattva, a thousand miles and ten thousand, steps off from this single thought of mind. This chapter first speaks of the shape and the depth of this one thought, then draws out its many faces with the four similes of gestation and the twenty-two comparisons, and at the last, with a run of verses, teaches this: once this mind is truly aroused, no measure of hardship can frighten it, and no size of burden will it refuse to shoulder.

I. What "arousing the mind" is: four kinds of greatness, three virtues, and two objects

Valor and skillful means, benefit and going-forth — four greatnesses, three virtues: through two meanings the mind arises.

This one thought by which the bodhisattva arouses the mind is of the utmost weight, and the prose commentary speaks of it under four words of "great": great in valor (the vow he sets up is deep, vast, and hard to carry out, and he stays with it, striving, for the long time), great in skillful means (having put on the armor of that vow, he applies himself skillfully and strives at every moment), great in benefit (at all times he does the work of benefiting himself and others), and great in going-forth (he moves toward the unsurpassed awakening and nothing else). These four greatnesses in turn let three virtues show through: the first two greatnesses are the virtue of "daring to take responsibility and being willing to bear the toil"; the third greatness is the virtue of "being able to benefit others"; the fourth greatness is the virtue of "coming at last to the fruit of buddhahood." And this one thought of mind arises clinging to two great matters: looking up to "the unsurpassed awakening," and mindful below of "all sentient beings." — Hold onto these two objects and you have hold of the very lifeline of arousing the mind: a single aspiration, hung between the highest awakening and the widest compassion. Apart from these two, it is not the mind of awakening.

The prose commentary then, with the treatise's very first simile, sets its place: the first arousing of the mind is "like the great earth" — all the buddha-dharmas are born from this ground and are borne up by this ground. A tower of ten thousand feet rises from level ground; only when there is first this "earth" of the one thought of mind does everything else, all the virtues that follow, have a place to take root.

II. The depth and shallowness of arousing the mind: four kinds by four grounds, and borrowed fire against one's own fire

Faith-and-practice, and pure reliance, won-as-reward, and unobstructed: arousing the mind rests on the several grounds, and its differences are of four kinds.

Arousing the mind is not of one sort only, nor of one height only. Following the grounds of practice, from shallow to deep it has four layers: the beginner's faith-and-practice arousing, which proceeds by faith; the pure-reliance arousing of the first seven grounds; the won-as-reward arousing of the latter three grounds, which arises effortlessly; and the unobstructed arousing of the buddha-ground, perfect and free of all hindrance. It is one and the same thought of the mind of awakening, yet a young shoot and a tree of a full span's girth differ in depth as heaven from earth.

The prose commentary then, with "eleven questions," asks out the whole framework of arousing the mind at a single stroke — what is its root, its support, what it has faith in, what it takes as object, what it rides, where it dwells, what its hindrance is, what its virtue, what its own-nature, what its going-forth, and what its utmost end? Strung together, the answers make a full chart of arousing the mind: great compassion for its root; the benefiting of beings for its support; the great-vehicle dharma for what it has faith in; all-kinds-of-knowledge for its object; a surpassing aspiration for what it rides; the bodhisattva precepts for where it dwells (the "great guarding" that is its dwelling); the dread of raising a mind of some other vehicle for its hindrance; the increase of wholesome dharmas for its virtue; merit and wisdom for its own-nature; the practicing of all the perfections for its going-forth; and the fulfilling of ground upon ground for its utmost end. That one thought of mind should hold these eleven meanings shows that the two words "arousing the mind" are no light thing. Of them, the one most to be held in mind is the first: the root is great compassion — without great compassion for a root, this mind will not stand.

〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 Why should "great compassion," of all things, be the root? The Flower-Ornament Scripture, in the Chapter on the Practices and Vows of Samantabhadra, has a most apt comparison: "It is as if, in the sands of a desert waste, there were a great tree-king: if its roots get water, its branches, leaves, flowers, and fruit all flourish. So too is the bodhi tree-king in the wilderness of birth-and-death: all sentient beings are its tree-roots, and the buddhas and bodhisattvas are its flowers and fruit; by benefiting sentient beings with the water of great compassion, one is able to bring to accomplishment the flowers and fruit of the wisdom of the buddhas and bodhisattvas." — Sentient beings are the "roots" of this great bodhi tree; the wisdom of the buddhas and bodhisattvas is the "flowers and fruit"; and what runs through both root and fruit, making the whole tree flourish, is that one channel of the water of great compassion. The same scripture then points straight to the bottom of it: "From sentient beings great compassion arises; from great compassion the mind of awakening is born; from the mind of awakening one accomplishes perfect awakening"; and again, "Therefore awakening belongs to sentient beings: were there no sentient beings, no bodhisattva could ever attain unsurpassed perfect awakening." Reading here, one who arouses the mind understands the weight of this chapter's four words, "great compassion is the root": awakening is not won out of thin air; it grows up out of sentient beings, out of that spot of unbearing-to-let-them-suffer that you have toward beings — let great compassion once be cut, and the root parts from the water, and this thought of the mind of awakening, together with all the flower-and-fruit virtues it would one day bear, has no way to flourish at all.

Now for the "way in" by which the mind is aroused.

The strength of a friend, and the strength of a cause, the strength of a root, and the strength of hearing: four strengths, gathered into two arousings, the unstable and the stable.

How does a person come to arouse this mind? The prose commentary counts four kinds of strength: the strength of a friend (the guiding of a good spiritual friend), the strength of a cause (having aroused it in a past life, so that it has become a settled disposition), the strength of a root (the wholesome roots grown thick in past lives), and the strength of hearing (being stirred by hearing the true dharma). These four strengths in turn gather into two classes: the arousing that comes by "the strength of a friend" is unstable; the arousing that comes by the three strengths of "cause, root, and hearing" is stable. Here one may frame it thus: the mind aroused only by a good friend's momentary urging is like a borrowed fire — someone else's flame is brought near and lights it, and a gust of wind may put it out; but the mind that kindles up out of one's own past-life cause and root is like a fire of one's own — there is charcoal on the root of it, and it goes on burning of itself. One who arouses the mind might well ask himself: this one thought of mine — is it a borrowed fire, or a fire of my own? A borrowed fire is well enough, but he must hurry to grow a fire-source of his own, and then it is stable.

III. Why arousing it brings "joy" at once: four kinds of equality

Drawing near to the Rightly and Fully Awakened, well gathering the store of merit and wisdom, with respect to dharmas without discrimination — the highest true knowledge is born.

What has been spoken of so far is mostly "conventional arousing of the mind" (aroused from hearing and from outward conditions, still on the side of the conditioned). The true turning-point is arousing the mind in the ultimate sense — not a mind that comes by hearing or by thinking, but one aroused by directly realizing suchness. It has three surpassings: drawing near the Buddha and receiving his teaching (the surpassing of instruction), well gathering merit and wisdom (the surpassing of according), and giving rise to non-conceptual knowledge (the surpassing of gaining the fruit). Reaching this step, one climbs onto the first of the bodhisattva's ten grounds, called "the Joyful Ground" — because this moment is a great joy.

Dharmas and sentient beings, the deeds done, and the buddha-body: equal in these four, therefore one gains the surpassing of joy.

Why should the direct realizing of the true bring such joy? The prose commentary points to "four kinds of equality": equality of dharmas (penetrating the no-self of dharmas, all the ten thousand dharmas one suchness), equality of sentient beings (realizing the non-duality of self and other), equality of deeds done (wishing others free of suffering as one wishes oneself free of suffering), and equality of the buddha-body (knowing for certain that "the dharma-realm and I are not apart," that I too must in the end become a buddha). The joy these four equalities bring can be felt through a long-exiled one returning home: a person adrift abroad, everywhere making distinctions, everywhere with barriers, of a sudden one day recognizes his own original home — that beings and I are of one dharma-realm, that the buddha-ground and I are of one suchness, never once truly apart. That solid gladness of "having come home" is just why the first ground is named "Joyful." The joy is not a high pitch of feeling; it is the ease of a barrier all at once dissolving and the way home known for certain.

IV. How this mind is born and grows up: six surpassings and the "four similes of gestation"

The station of birth and the station of vow, valor too, and pure reliance, further skill and further going-forth: the six surpassings are likewise so.

Arousing the mind in the ultimate sense has, further, six kinds of surpassing (of birth, of vow, of valor, of pure reliance, of further skill, of further going-forth). The loveliest of them is that, in glossing "the surpassing of birth," the prose commentary uses a set of "four similes of gestation" — likening the bodhisattva's "being born and reared" upon the path of awakening to a person's being carried in the womb:

The surpassing of birth is by four meanings; the great vows are of ten kinds; valor never turning back; pure reliance gives rise to the twofold benefit; skillful means advances to the further grounds; going-forth is right reflection — by such six principles, in order, the six surpassings are formed.

• The surpassing of the seed: with "faith in the great-vehicle dharma" for the seed — before there is birth there must first be a seed.
• The surpassing of the birth-mother: with "the perfection of wisdom" for the birth-mother — wisdom is the mother that gives birth to the awakened.
• The surpassing of the womb: with "the bliss of great meditative absorption" for the womb — meditation is the steady womb-chamber of gestation.
• The surpassing of the wet-nurse: with "great compassion" for the wet-nurse — after birth, it is by great compassion that one is reared and nursed.

Faith for the seed, wisdom for the mother, meditation for the womb, great compassion for the milk: an awakened one is, in just this way, carried, born, and reared up within the dharma. This comparison is most intimate — it tells the far and high "path to becoming a buddha" as a most natural "bearing and rearing." The other four surpassings: making the ten great vows (as the Scripture of the Ten Grounds sets forth); being valorous and never turning back; the pure reliance of knowing oneself near to awakening and being skilled at benefiting others; the further skill of the skillful means for advancing to the higher grounds; and the further going-forth of rightly reflecting on the dharmas established in the several grounds (reflecting to the utmost, so that even "non-discrimination" is known by way of this discrimination). The six surpassings together are the road of rearing by which this thought of mind climbs step by step from the first ground upward, all the way to becoming a buddha.

V. One arousing of the mind, and twenty-two likenesses

Like earth, like refined gold, like the moon, like a growing fire, like a treasury, like a jewel-casket, like the sea, like the diamond, like a mountain, like the king of medicines, like a friend, like the wish-granting gem, like the sun, like sweet music, like a king, like a granary, like a road, like a carriage, like a spring, like a joyful sound, like a river, and like a cloud: the arousing of the mind is likened thus.

In one breath the prose commentary matches arousing the mind with twenty-two similes. Why should one thought of mind take so many comparisons? Because arousing the mind is no thin, single thing — according to which virtue, which perfection it "corresponds with," it shows just that face. Here only their thread is drawn:

• At the outset, like the great earth (giving birth to and bearing all dharmas), like refined gold (its benefit and ease unbroken and unspoilable), like the new moon (its wholesome dharmas gradually waxing full), like a growing fire (the more fuel, the fiercer) — this is the aspect of arousing the mind from its setting-up to its growth.
• Matched with the six perfections, each takes one image: giving is like a great treasury (giving, yet never used up); discipline is like a jewel-casket (storing the dharma-jewels of virtue); patience is like the great sea (unmoved by contrariness); vigor is like the diamond (firm and hard, unbreakable); meditation is like the king of mountains (abiding steady, unstirred); wisdom is like the king of medicines (breaking the two ills of affliction and of the knowable).
• Matched with the other virtues and their functioning uses: the four immeasurables are like a good friend (never forsaking sentient beings); the supernormal powers are like the wish-granting gem (accomplishing whatever is wished); the four means of gathering are like the blazing sun (ripening beings as it ripens grain); eloquence is like fine music (drawing beings in by preaching the dharma) … and at the last, like a river (the path of the patience for the non-arising of dharmas flowing on of itself, without any deliberate effort), like a great cloud (covering and moistening the world, manifesting the eight aspects of accomplishing the path).

One person may be, at the same time, another's son, father, teacher, and friend — the body is but one, yet as the corresponding relations differ, the face differs. So it is with arousing the mind: the substance is but one thought, yet according to virtue and perfection it turns into twenty-two scenes. Many as they seem, they are all this one thought of the mind of awakening, the very same mind in its different positions.

VI. Having aroused this mind, one is without fear

There follows a run of verses saying, over and over, one thing: the person who has truly aroused the mind of awakening — neither favorable circumstance nor adverse can rob him of it or frighten him out of it.

The prose commentary first marks four kinds of "bliss" (the bliss of reflecting on benefit, the bliss of gaining skillful means, the bliss of understanding the meaning, the bliss of realizing the real) as the bodhisattva's alone; and if someone midway forsakes sentient beings and races only for his own quiescent extinction, these four blisses have no part with him. To arouse the mind and then shrink back is to throw away the great ease already in hand.

To contemplate dharmas is like knowing an illusion; to contemplate birth is like entering a pleasure-garden: whether it comes about or does not come about, affliction and suffering are alike without fear.

This one verse is the key to "not turning back." Favorable circumstance (the thing coming about) easily gets one stuck to fame and to affliction — but the bodhisattva "contemplates dharmas like an illusion": he sees through everything as a conjuring-show, and knowing it an illusion, he is not led along by it, and so within favorable circumstance he does not fear affliction. Adverse circumstance (the thing not coming about, having to take birth and undergo suffering) easily breeds a mind of turning back — but the bodhisattva "contemplates birth like entering a pleasure-garden": the place where he takes birth he looks upon as walking into a garden park. Why should a place of suffering be like a garden? Because that is precisely the place of his work, the place he vowed to go. It can be felt through a loving mother: wherever her child is, there the mother goes; a place ever so hard is to her no road of dread but the place where she ought to be. The bodhisattva's entering birth-and-death, his entering places of suffering, is just such an "entering a garden" — he is not flung in; he walks in of himself.

Utterly diligent in benefiting beings, because great compassion is his very nature, the uninterrupted hell is like a place of ease — how should he fear the sufferings of the states of existence?

Push this to the utmost: the bodhisattva, having great compassion for his substance, in order to benefit beings, even entering the Avīci hell is as though roaming in a place of ease. This does not say that hell is not suffering; it says that when a person's whole mind is upon "benefiting others," a place of suffering, because "there are beings there to be delivered," becomes a place he willingly goes to and gladly dwells in. Even the deepest place of suffering cannot move him — how much less the rest? This is the inner truth of the mind-arouser's "being without fear" — not numbness, but a compassion so full that suffering cannot shake it. (In between, the prose commentary also says: the bodhisattva loves others more than he loves himself, and so is willing to forget his own body to benefit others, and never harms another for his own gain; and he takes his own virtues for his adornment, the joy of benefiting others for his food, the place he takes birth at will for his garden-ground, and his supernormal transformations for his sport — these four self-possessed enjoyments belong to the greatly compassionate one alone, and are not had by the two vehicles.)

VII. Great compassion for a teacher, a hundredfold in vigor

Great compassion ever in mind, another's suffering as one's own suffering, of itself doing what is to be done — to wait to be urged is deep conscience.

The last two verses come down to "practice." The prose commentary says a most weighty thing: the bodhisattvas take "great compassion" for the norm-teacher ever dwelling in the mind (what this chapter calls "the ācārya of great compassion" — an ācārya being a teacher). Taking great compassion for a teacher, the moment he sees a being suffer he suffers as if it were himself, and so, without waiting for anyone to press him, he goes of himself to do what is to be done. If he still had to wait for a good friend to urge him before he would stir, he would feel deep conscience and shame — for where is the sense in suffering oneself and yet waiting for another's urging before one will help? This is the weight of "great compassion for a teacher": it is not outside; it sits within your very mind and issues the commands.

Bearing the burden of sentient beings, to be slack is ugly and no surpassing thing; to loose the bonds of self and other, vigor should be a hundredfold.

The closing line is most fit for spurring oneself: to arouse the mind of awakening is to shoulder the heavy burden of sentient beings onto one's own back. To be sluggish and slack while carrying such a load is an ugly thing, unworthy of the "foremost, upright" bodhisattva. Self and other are alike bound fast by affliction, action, and birth-and-death; to loose this bond one should bring out a hundredfold vigor, far surpassing the listeners, and do what is to be done. Arousing the mind is not finished with the making of one fine vow — it is to shoulder the burden and then, step by step, to walk it out to the end.

Coda: from one thought to a whole life

Taken whole, the Chapter on Arousing the Mind speaks of the arousing, deepening, and making-good of one thought of the mind of awakening: it arises between the highest awakening and the widest compassion (the four greatnesses, three virtues, two objects); it deepens at the turn from the conventional to the ultimate (directly realizing suchness, climbing the Joyful Ground, the four equalities coming home); it grows by the gestation of faith for seed, wisdom for mother, meditation for womb, and great compassion for milk (the six surpassings and the four similes of gestation); it shows itself in the scenery of twenty-two likenesses; it is tested in not turning back through favorable and adverse alike, hell like a place of ease; and it is completed by taking great compassion for a teacher and, a hundredfold in vigor, shouldering the burden of beings to the very end.

The Chapter on Lineage gave the seed; the Chapter on Arousing the Mind lets it sprout; and this one sprouting thought has already set its aspiration toward the whole great bodhi tree. What makes the bodhisattva path the bodhisattva path begins from just this one thought of mind — willing to arouse it, daring to arouse it, and, having aroused it, not turning back.

The Chapter on Arousing the Mind aroused the mind; now that mind must be brought down into "practice." The content of that practice, put in a single phrase, is the twofold benefit (二利) — benefit for oneself and benefit for others. The most moving eye of this chapter is this: in the bodhisattva, benefiting oneself and benefiting others are not two things at all. The chapter first states how the three things "support, practice, and fruit" are each "great," then states why self and other are not different and why benefiting others is the more excellent; next it teaches how to benefit others so that it truly reaches home (the thirteen kinds of according); and finally it turns out a truth of the utmost depth: the more one does not seek one's own joy but seeks only to bring joy to others, the more, on the contrary, one gains the great joy.

I. Support, practice, and fruit — three things, each great

Great support and great practice, and the great fruit, stated in order; great taking-up and great patience, and the great meaning — three things accomplished.

This whole round of the bodhisattva's benefiting-self-and-other practice is "great" from beginning to end. Looked at from the positive side of the three things — support, practice, and fruit: what he relies on is the great awakening (great support); what he practices is the benefit of self and other (great practice); the fruit he seeks is unsurpassed awakening (great fruit). Looked at again from the side of accomplishment: at the arousing of the mind he takes up all sentient beings (great taking-up); at the setting-out of practice he can bear all great suffering (great patience); at the gaining of the fruit he benefits all sentient beings on a vast scale (great meaning). The support is gained as great, the practice as great, the fruit as great — this is the bearing of the bodhisattva's practice, unlike that of the lesser path.

II. Self and other undivided: loving the other more than oneself

Other and self, the mind made equal; and yet the love toward the other is the greater — since it has such an excellent character, what difference is there in the twofold benefit?

The bodhisattva first gains a certain mind — the mind in which self and other are equal (gained either through faith, at the time of the arousing of the mind on the conventional level; or through wisdom, at the time of the arousing of the mind on the level of the ultimate truth). But here is the wonder of it: having gained equality, he yet loves and cares for others more than himself. Once he has toward others such a mind that "holds them heavier than himself," the very boundary line between benefiting oneself and benefiting others naturally melts away.

This can be felt through the left and right hands: when the right hand is injured, the left hand tends to it, and never first reckons "that is the right hand, it is not me" — within one body there was never any calculating of "self and other" in the first place. The bodhisattva sees sentient beings as one body with himself; benefiting others is just as the left hand tends the right — where, then, would there still be any dividing of "benefit for self" and "benefit for other"?

III. Why "benefiting others" is the more excellent

In the world he has no karma of enmity; benefiting them, he ever takes suffering on himself; a nature of compassion arises of itself — therefore benefiting others is the greater.

The treatise presses further: in the bodhisattva, "benefiting others" is especially excellent. Why? Because in this world he has long since cut off the karma of enmity (bearing no enmity toward anyone), and so he is always willing to take suffering upon himself in order to accomplish the benefit of others; and this willingness is not something forced or braced up — it arises of itself, having great compassion for its very substance. A giving that issues from one's own nature is naturally higher than a reckoning made for oneself. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 A later passage of this treatise realizes just this "of itself" precisely through the image of a dove sheltering its young: "As a dove toward its own young covers them over with the utmost love, so a person of compassion, toward beings, has love just so." The mother dove spreads her wings to cover the chicks, loving them most keenly — and none of this is a thing arrived at by calculation. The bodhisattva toward sentient beings "loves them into the very marrow of the bones… as though they were his one child"; and the willingness to take on suffering for their benefit is just like this — a tenderness welling up of itself out of the nature of compassion, not a reckoning braced up by force.

IV. How to benefit others so that it reaches home: the thirteen kinds of according

By good teaching he makes them turn toward it, makes them enter, and makes them ready; makes them ripen and makes them abide, makes them awaken, makes them liberated; the gathering of virtue and the birth into the family, the receiving of the prediction and the taking of the office, up to the accomplishing of the Tathāgata's knowledge — by these he benefits the multitude of beings.

Benefiting others is not a burst of enthusiasm laid on at random. The capacities of sentient beings fall into three grades — low, middle, and high — and the bodhisattva takes them up in accord with the capacity in which each abides — like a good physician who gives the medicine to fit the illness, like a good teacher who instructs according to the material. The prose commentary lists thirteen kinds of according, and they form exactly a stairway from the shallow to the deep: first good teaching (speaking the Dharma to fit the person), then making them turn toward it, making them enter (receiving in faith the right teaching), making them ready (cutting off their doubt), making them ripen (maturing their roots of good), making them abide (settling the mind), making them awaken (gaining wisdom), and making them liberated; then further up, the gathering of virtue (gathering merit and wisdom), the birth into the family (being born into the family of the buddhas), the receiving of the prediction (receiving the prediction on the eighth ground), the taking of the office (taking the office on the tenth ground), all the way to gaining the Tathāgata's knowledge (entering the ground of buddhahood).

These last three stages — "birth into the family · receiving of the prediction · taking of the office" — can be seen through the image of succession in a royal house: as a prince is born into the royal family (birth into the family), then gains the prediction as crown prince (receiving of the prediction), and at last takes the office of consecration (taking of the office) — step by step succeeding to the throne. This image is the one already set up in the Chapter on Taking Refuge — the likeness of "one like a prince, one like a great minister" (the child of the Buddha continuing and raising up the Buddha's lineage) — and the two may be seen together: the bodhisattva's entering the Buddha's family, receiving the prediction, and taking the office is just like a prince's succeeding to the great line, and in the end continuing and raising up the Buddha's lineage, succeeding to the Buddha's place.

From resolving one doubt for a person, to sending a person all the way to buddhahood — these thirteen stages are the whole course by which the bodhisattva "sends people all the way home."

Not distorted and not lifted up, unattached and also penetrating, able to bear and pliant, going far off and also inexhaustible — know that these eight meanings accomplish those thirteen.

And to walk these thirteen stages without leaning or losing the way, one leans on eight virtues to hold them up: not distorted (teaching the Dharma to fit the occasion, not conferring it at random); not lifted up (not exalting oneself on the strength of supernormal powers); unattached (delivering beings yet not being stained by attachment to beings); penetrating (able to cut off their doubt); able to bear (patiently maturing them); pliant (teaching in a gentle, accommodating way, not by force); going far off (willing to go far off to accomplish their good); and inexhaustible (the vow to benefit beings never running dry at any time). With these eight virtues laid beneath, benefiting others will not become a good intention that does harm.

V. The four kinds of people — a mirror held up to the mind

One habituated to desire, greatly to be feared; one with craving-for-existence, wavering and toppled; one who delights in cessation, cutting off the afflictions; and the greatly compassionate, seeking the Buddha's Dharma.

The prose commentary sets out four kinds of people over against one another, like a stairway from the low to the high, and like a mirror held up to the mind:

• One habituated to desire (a person of the desire realm, chasing after desire) — "greatly to be feared": his suffering of body and mind is great, and he goes on toward the evil destinies — this is the most to be feared.
• One with craving-for-existence (a person born in the form or formless realm, attached to the joy of meditative absorption) — "wavering and toppled": the joy of absorption he craves is still impermanent, so the mind "wavers"; and beneath it there is still the suffering-of-formations, so it is seen as "toppled."
• One who delights in cessation (a person seeking only his own benefit) — "cutting off the afflictions": bound by the afflictions, his suffering does not cease, and so, in order to leave suffering, he cuts off his own afflictions and seeks only his own stillness (this is already world-transcending, yet it is still done for oneself).
• The greatly compassionate (a person who benefits others) — "seeking the Buddha's Dharma": he constantly seeks all the Buddha's Dharma, wholly in order to benefit all sentient beings.

Set the four in a row and their high and low stand plain: from chasing desire, to craving absorption, to seeking one's own stillness, to seeking the Dharma for the sake of beings — the measure of the heart grows greater layer by layer. The student may take up this mirror and look at himself, and see which stage he now stands on.

VI. A reversal: seeking one's own joy turns to suffering; joying others becomes the great joy

Worldly people seek their own joy — joyless, ever in extreme suffering; the bodhisattva diligently joys others — the twofold benefit becomes the highest joy.

This is the deepest reversal in the whole chapter. Worldly people, single-mindedly "seeking their own joy" — and the result? The joy is not to be had, and instead extreme suffering is gained. This can be felt through drinking salt water to quench thirst: a thirsty man goes to drink salt water — the more he drinks the thirstier, the thirstier the more he drinks, until at last the suffering is past bearing — to seek within "one's own joy" alone is just this cycle.

The bodhisattva goes the opposite way: single-mindedly "causing others to be joyful," and the result is that benefit-of-self and benefit-of-other are accomplished together, and further he gains the foremost joy of the great nirvāṇa. This is again like a single lamp: light it in order to shine on others, and its light is shared out among a hundred and a thousand, yet its own light is not diminished by a fraction — indeed, by shining so widely it appears the brighter. Turn "for myself" into "for sentient beings," and one's own joy is not only not lost but fulfilled within the benefiting of others — this is "the twofold benefit becomes the highest joy."

Differing faculties in differing places, differing acts with differing conduct — whatever is done at all, he dedicates it to the benefit of sentient beings.

Just because the twofold benefit is not-two, the bodhisattva dedicates everything to sentient beings: following the activity of the various faculties, the various places, the various kinds of bearing and deed and conduct — whatever is done at all, so long as it corresponds in its particulars or is even similar, all of it he dedicates to all sentient beings (as is set out at length in the Sūtra on the Purity of Practice). Here lies the wonder of dedication: an utterly ordinary deed, so long as it is done and dedicated with the mind of "for all sentient beings," becomes at that very moment a deed that benefits beings. Turn the mind once, and thing after thing is the bodhisattva path.

VII. Bearing beings' evil, and the greatness of "according"

Sentient beings are not their own masters, ever doing evil deeds; bearing with them increases compassion — so there is no vexation and no offense.

On the road of benefiting others, one cannot but meet with beings' evil. How is it to be borne? The treatise breaks open the crux: sentient beings are "not their own masters" — bound by the afflictions, their bodies not their own to command, and only so do they do evil deeds. Seeing clearly through this one layer, the bodhisattva toward them raises only great patience, only increases great compassion, and gives rise to no vexation, nor any wish to do a thing that harms them. This can be felt through delirium in illness: a man burning with fever and raving may strike out wildly at the one who nurses him, and the nurse holds no grudge — she knows that it is the illness, not the man. Beings doing evil are just like losing control in illness; the bodhisattva, like a kind physician, bears with their evil and pities their illness the more.

Surpassing-forth and stillness, virtue and the benefiting of beings — in order, resting on four meanings, greatness is said to be of four kinds.

At the last, the treatise closes with four kinds of "greatness of according": greatness of surpassing-forth (surpassing forth from the three existences and the five destinies — as the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra shows: it is precisely by fully realizing that "form" is originally empty that the great vehicle can surpass forth beyond all the gods and men of the world); greatness of stillness (heading toward the non-abiding nirvāṇa, dwelling neither in birth-and-death nor in nirvāṇa); greatness of virtue (the two stores of merit and wisdom growing without cease); and greatness of benefiting beings (ever resting on great compassion, not forsaking sentient beings). Of the four, the one most worth keeping in mind is still that "non-abiding nirvāṇa" — able to realize nirvāṇa yet unwilling to enter it alone, dwelling long in birth-and-death for the sake of sentient beings: the practice of the twofold benefit comes down, in the end, to these two words — "not forsaking."

Conclusion: the twofold benefit was one thing all along

Seen whole, the Chapter on the Twofold Benefit says this: in the bodhisattva, benefiting oneself and benefiting others were one thing all along. Because he gains the equality of self and other and so loves others more than himself, benefiting others just is benefiting himself; with the thirteen kinds of according, he sends sentient beings all the way from the shallow to the deep, up to the ground of buddhahood; with the four kinds of people set over against one another, he marks out the high and low of the heart's measure; then with the one reversal — "seeking one's own joy turns to suffering, joying others becomes the great joy" — he lays bare the hollowness of "for oneself" and shows forth the substance of "for others"; and at the last, with great patience he contains beings' evil, and with the fourfold greatness of according he comes home to the non-abiding nirvāṇa and to compassion's "not forsaking."

To close in one phrase: turn "for myself" into "for sentient beings" — the benefit of self is not thereby lost; it is fulfilled within the benefit of others. The very first step of practice after the arousing of the mind is just this work of "the twofold benefit is not two."

The Chapter on Reality treats one of this treatise's "eyes": what the ultimate truth (第一義, the supreme reality) is, and how one comes to realize it directly. The ten verses of the chapter form a single complete line — first they establish the character of the ultimate truth (fixing the middle way of the three natures with a "fivefold non-duality"), then one by one they block the four distortions that arise toward it, and finally they open out the five stages of practice by which one enters it. In a phrase: from "seeing clearly what reality looks like" to "realizing reality for oneself."

One key runs through the whole chapter and must be laid out first: the three natures (三性) — the skeleton of all Consciousness-Only doctrine. The reason worldly "existence" and "non-existence" become so hopelessly tangled is that three things belonging to different levels get lumped together. The three natures pull them apart:

• The wholly-imagined nature (分別性; 玄奘系 遍計所執性, the falsely wholly-imagined) — the subject-facing-object opposition that the mind superadds and grasps out of "an I confronting a realm." It never held together in the first place; it is what false discrimination fabricates, and is in fact unreal.
• The other-dependent nature (依他性; 依他起性, what arises through conditions) — the activity of consciousness itself as it arises through this and that condition. It exists (not that it has a real self-nature, but that it exists as dependently arisen).
• The true nature (真實性; 圓成實性, the perfectly-accomplished reality) — the reality that shows forth right upon the other-dependent, once the wholly-imagined has been left behind. It is suchness itself, which is exactly what this chapter calls the ultimate truth.

Hold these three levels and the whole chapter falls open below: the ultimate truth = the true nature = suchness, and to see it one must, upon the other-dependent, empty out the wholly-imagined.

There is an excellent old comparison that says all three natures at one stroke — the rope and the snake. At dusk you see a "snake" coiled in the corner and start with fright; you draw near and look closely — it is only a rope; you press further, asking what the rope is — nothing but hemp twisted together. Here:

• That "snake" was never there at all; it was misperception, forcibly added — this is the wholly-imagined nature (superadded by calculation and grasped, in fact unreal).
• That "rope" is hemp, the twisting, that coiled shape — a mark that shows only once many conditions come together — this is the other-dependent nature (existent through conditions, not real, yet not wholly nothing either).
• What makes the rope a rope, the "hemp" on which it rests (its ultimate substance) — this is the true nature (the reality behind the other-dependent).

The whole work of practice lies in this one picture: see through the "snake" (empty the wholly-imagined), recognize the "hemp" (realize the true) — while that "rope" (the other-dependent's conditionally-arisen mark) is present throughout, and need not, indeed cannot, be denied along with it. Whatever follows below — the ultimate truth, no-self, the five stages — can all be held up against this rope.

I. The character of the ultimate truth: the five "non-dualities"

In the chapter's first verse, the prose commentary first marks that, having finished the earlier "practice in accord," it next states the character of the "ultimate truth."

Neither existent nor non-existent, neither the same nor different, neither arising nor ceasing, neither increasing nor decreasing, neither pure nor impure — these five, free of duality: this is called the ultimate truth; the practitioner should know it.

The character of the ultimate truth is just "non-duality" — it falls to neither extreme. It shows forth through five pairs of "non-duality," which the prose commentary unfolds one pair at a time:

• Not existent: to say it "is not existent" is because the two marks, the wholly-imagined and the other-dependent, do not truly exist — the subject-object opposition (the wholly-imagined) was never there, and the conditionally-arisen stream of consciousness (the other-dependent) has no self-nature. So it cannot be grasped as truly existent.
• Not non-existent: to say it "is not non-existent" is because that real mark (the true nature) does exist. When the two graspings are emptied out, the suchness that remains is not sheer nothing.
• Not the same, not different: these two lines are the subtlest — they speak of the three natures' "neither one nor separate." To say "not the same (not identical)" is because the two marks, the wholly-imagined and the other-dependent, are themselves false and non-existent, while the real is but one single substance — suchness is not equal to those two layers of falsity. To say "not different (not a separate thing)" is because those two marks (as falsities) have no substance of their own apart from the real — leave suchness aside, and even the falsity has nowhere to be established. The true and the false are neither one and the same, nor two things each apart. This layer of "neither one nor separate" can be felt through water and waves: a wave is not simply equal to water (waves have rising, falling, arising, and ceasing, which water as water does not have; hence "not one"), yet a wave has no substance of its own apart from water (leave water aside, and where is a wave? hence "not different"). Between suchness and the false marks of the other-dependent and the wholly-imagined, it is just so — not one and the same, and not two things each minding its own.
• Not arising, not ceasing: because the ultimate truth is an unconditioned dharma — it does not run on the track of conditioned arising and ceasing, so there is no arising, no ceasing to speak of.
• Not increasing, not decreasing: because however the pure portion and the defiled portion may arise or subside, the dharma-realm abides just so, ever unchanged, never decreasing by a fraction on account of defilement, nor increasing by a fraction on account of purity.
• Not pure, not impure: to say "not pure" is because its own nature was never defiled to begin with, and needs no further purifying; to say "not impure" is because the adventitious defilements that arise later can be removed — they are no filth belonging to its very nature. This can be felt through a white robe: a white robe is clean to begin with, and looks dirtied when dust settles on it, but the dust is from outside, not the cloth's own color — the dust can be washed away, so we say "not impure"; and it is clean of itself and need not be "bleached" all over again, so we say "not pure." Suchness, in relation to the adventitious defilements, is exactly so. For this very layer, another chapter of this treatise already supplies a ready-made simile — in the Chapter on Practice in Accord the prose commentary says: "It is like clear water: when filth comes, it turns turbid; if later it clears, the filth alone is removed. The clarity does not come from outside, for its nature is clarity. The skillful purifying of the mind is likewise: the mind's nature is originally pure and is defiled by the adventitious, and when later it is purified, the adventitious alone is removed; the purity does not come from outside, for its nature is purity." (Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra, Chapter on Awakening, Chinese T31n1604.) That the water is turbid is because filth has come, not because the water has lost its original clarity; remove that filth and clarity appears — this clarity was inherent in the water, not added from outside. The mind in relation to the adventitious defilements is exactly this: the defilement is the defilement of the adventitious, the purity is the purity that was inherent. The Śrīmālā Sūtra says the same: "The intrinsically pure mind is yet defiled," and "this intrinsically pure tathāgata-garbha is yet defiled by the adventitious defilements and the derivative defilements" (Chinese T12n0353, Chapter on Intrinsic Purity). So we say "not impure" (the adventitious can be removed) and "not pure" (the intrinsic purity is not gotten from outside).

Taking the five pairs together: the ultimate truth is not something an assertion from any one side can seize. Grasp "existent" and you fall into superimposition; grasp "non-existent" and you sink into denial; say "arising-ceasing, increasing-decreasing, pure-impure" and you drag the unconditioned suchness back into the calculations of the conditioned. So the prose commentary closes with a line: these five "marks free of duality" are the character of the ultimate truth, and the practitioner should recognize it thus. The very manner of recognizing it is itself the middle way that leaves both extremes.

II. Blocking the view of self: the so-called "self" is only discrimination

The ultimate truth established, the text next blocks the distortions that arise toward it. The first and most rooted distortion is the "view of self."

Self-view does not see a self; it is not without an object; apart from the two there is no self — so liberation is just the end of delusion.

The prose commentary takes it apart line by line:

• "Self-view does not actually see a self" — because there is no such mark as "self" at all. Why? Because the so-called "self" is only the mind's false discrimination, and what is discriminated out cannot be taken as real.
• "Yet it is not without an object" — do not misread this as "self-view arising out of nowhere." It is aroused by the latent tendencies of the afflictions, and its object is the five appropriated aggregates (the five grasped aggregates — form, sensation, perception, formations, and consciousness, the body-mind grasped as one's own). Where self-view goes wrong is just here: it takes the five aggregates as object, yet falsely posits a "self" upon the five aggregates.
• "Apart from these two there is no self" — "the two" are self-view and the five appropriated aggregates. There is no "self"-mark within self-view, none within the five aggregates, and none apart from these two either. So self-view is sheer delusion; no "self"-mark can in fact be found.
• "Liberation is just the exhaustion of delusion" — this line matters most, for it cuts off every retreat. Even if someone gives rise, with respect to himself, to a thought of "I have attained liberation," that too is merely the exhaustion of delusion, and no separate "self" is set up to be called "the one who is liberated." Not even a "self" who is "the liberated one" is posited — this is thoroughgoing no-self of persons.

This "the five aggregates in combination, and no self" is precisely what is figured by the famous chariot simile in the Saṃyukta Āgama. Long ago the nun Vajrā was harassed by the evil Māra; Māra asked, "This 'sentient being' you speak of — who made it?" and the nun answered, breaking the challenge with a verse: "You suppose there is a sentient being — this is Māra's view. There is only an empty heap of aggregates; there is no sentient being here. As, when many parts are combined, the world names it 'a chariot,' so, when the aggregates come together through conditions, the provisional name 'sentient being' is given." (Chinese T02n0099, scroll 45, sūtra 1202.) When many materials are put together, the world gives it a name and calls it a "chariot"; when the five aggregates — form, sensation, perception, formations, consciousness — come together through conditions, the world gives it a provisional name and calls it a "sentient being," a "self." Leave aside the combination of those materials, and there is no separate thing called "chariot" to be singled out; leave aside the combination of the five aggregates, and there is no "self" that can be singled out either. The same can be felt through a house: take a house apart and it is only beam, pillar, wall, and tile put in one place; apart from the combination of these materials, no "house" can be found that stands on its own. The essential point is this: though the provisional name has no substance, its function is not thereby abolished — the chariot still carries people, the continuing aggregates still bear the fruit of action; it is only that within that function there is no "self," which was never there, doing the driving. The error of self-view lies precisely here: confronting this one heap of combination, it forcibly fixes upon it a "self" that was never there.

III. Rebuking distortion: relying on self-view, one cannot see "suffering"

The second distortion the prose commentary opens with a cry of "Alas!" — a shout struck straight at the world's deluded grasping.

Why, relying on self-view, does one not see the nature of suffering? [There is] confusion about suffering and the sufferer, about the reality-of-dharmas and its no-nature.

• "Why, relying on self-view, does one fail to see the nature of suffering?" — worldly people rest upon self-view and give rise to every kind of confusion, and so cannot understand one root matter: the conditioned activities are themselves suffering. Not only do they fail to understand this, they constantly circle along after self-view.
• The prose commentary then explains the two pairs, "confusion about suffering and the sufferer, the reality-of-dharmas and its no-nature." Suffering means undergoing that oppressive contact of suffering (painful feeling); the sufferer means the unbroken continuity of suffering — note the prose commentary's careful correction: it is not that "there is a self joined to suffering, which is then called the sufferer"; the sufferer is only the continuity of suffering, with no "self" within it that undergoes suffering. Confusion about suffering is failing to understand the nature of suffering; confusion about the sufferer is failing to understand no-self. A layer deeper: the reality-of-dharmas means "there are only dharmas (and no person)," because of the no-self of persons; no-nature means "(these dharmas too) are not real dharmas," because of the no-self of dharmas.
• The weight of this verse lies in its pressing no-self to two levels: not only is grasping a "self" a distortion (the no-self of persons), but grasping "suffering and dharmas" as truly existent is also a distortion (the no-self of dharmas). Suffering is truly suffering, but the "self" that undergoes it is false; dharmas are conditionally-arisen dharmas, but a truly existent "substance of dharmas" is false too.

That there is "suffering but no self who suffers" can be felt through a lamp-flame: a lamp burns through the night, and we say "it is still the same lamp," yet in fact the flame of the prior instant has already ceased and the flame of the next instant is newly born; there is only unbroken continuity, which looks like one flame that never moved. Suffering is likewise — a stretch of unbroken continuity of painful feeling flowing on, with no "self" seated through it from beginning to end undergoing suffering. Flowing water runs on and on with no unchanging "river" beneath it — the very same principle.

IV. Plainly seeing dependent arising, yet giving rise to a contrary view

The third distortion speaks of something still more paradoxical: people plainly see dependent arising, yet insist on generating, upon that very dependent arising, a view that runs against it.

Why, when the dependently-arisen substance is plainly seen, does a contrary view arise? Through darkness one does not see what is [there], and also sees what is not.

• "Why, when the dependently-arisen substance is plainly seen, does a contrary view arise?" — worldly people plainly see that "the activities each arise from conditions," yet, relying on this very dependently-arisen substance, they generate a contrary view, supposing that the substance of the eye and the other faculties is not dependently arisen (as if the faculties were self-formed, truly existent).
• "Through the darkness what is there is not seen, and what is not there is on the contrary seen" — the disease is rooted in ignorance. The dependently-arisen dharma is "existent" (existent because conditionally born), yet its existence is precisely not seen (this is denial); the substance of "self" is "non-existent," yet the view of "there is a self" is precisely generated (this is superimposition). A single ignorance commits both distortions at once: erasing what is there, and adding what is not.

At this point the prose commentary turns the pivot of the whole chapter out through a "question" — Question: if this is so, how is nirvāṇa attained?

Saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are not two, with not the slightest difference; abiding well in no-self, when birth is exhausted one attains nirvāṇa.

In this verse, the treatise says that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are "not two, with not the slightest difference" with respect to no-self; it then says that one who abides well in no-self and cultivates wholesome action exhausts birth and attains nirvāṇa. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 The earlier rope-and-snake image only helps illustrate the difference before and after deluded grasping is removed; it is not evidence that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are one identical substance. This exposition transmits the position advanced here without independently adjudicating such an identity. The blocking of distortions closes here: the distortions broken, the text next states the "remedy" — how one enters what the treatise calls the ultimate truth step by step.

V. The remedy in five stages: one road into the ultimate truth

The distortions blocked, the prose commentary says: "Next one should state its remedy." The five verses that follow display, in order, the five stages by which the bodhisattva enters the ultimate truth. These five stages are no invention peculiar to the Mahāyānasūtrālaṃkāra, but the common track of all Consciousness-Only realization (continuous with the last five verses of the Thirty Verses and with the five stages set forth in the Cheng Weishi Lun); what is distinctive to this chapter is that it strings each of the five upon this one main line: "meaning is only mental speech → consciousness-only → both graspings alike dissolved."

The stage of equipment — the great capital of amassed merit and wisdom

Merit and wisdom, boundless, grow and are wholly fulfilled; having settled the contemplation of dharmas, one penetrates the nature of the categories of meaning.

The prose commentary judges: this verse displays the first, the "Stage of Amassing the Great Store" (the stage of equipment, 資糧位) — the stage of amassing the two great provisions of merit and wisdom.

• Merit and wisdom, boundless: the merit and wisdom cultivated are countless in kind and endless in duration. Practice must first have capital, and this capital is merit and wisdom, amassed both broadly and long.
• Grow and are wholly fulfilled: the bodhisattva amasses this great store to fullness, and so can reach the far shore.
• Having settled the contemplation of dharmas: one contemplates the Dharma with a settled mind (not scattered browsing, but concentrated, careful contemplation).
• Penetrates the nature of the categories of meaning: the contemplation reaches one key understanding — that the various dharma-meanings contemplated, their "categories," all have "mental speech" (意言, inner conceptual designation) as their nature. "Mental speech" is the concept-and-word within the mind. In other words: every "meaning" you confront, traced to the bottom, is set up by the name-words and discriminations within the mind. This line is the first seed of the whole road of Consciousness-Only contemplation: first see through the fact that "meaning" was only "mental speech."

This "meaning is only mental speech" is not easily felt; try it this way: over one and the same stretch of hill and field, the farmer sees out ridges and seasons, the painter sees out composition and light, the herb-gatherer sees out the plants' natures and medicinal uses — those meanings "seen," those sortings-out, are not laid ready over there on the hillside waiting to be picked up, but are cut and set up by the name-words and concepts within each person's mind. You suppose you are "cognizing the meaning outside," but everywhere you go you carry the fingerprint of "mental speech." Recognize this layer first, and only then can you go on to "consciousness-only."

The stage of intensified practice — turning from "meaning is only mental speech" to "consciousness-only"

Having known the nature of the categories of meaning, one abides well in the light of mind alone; because one then plainly sees the dharma-realm, one is freed from the two marks.

The prose commentary judges: this displays the second, the "Stage of Penetration" (i.e. the stage of intensified practice, 加行位). Following on from the last stage: having understood that all dharma-meanings have mental speech as their nature, one advances to understand that all dharma-meanings are in fact "the light of mind" (心光, the light-images the mind manifests, not real objects outside the mind). Reaching this step, the bodhisattva is called "abiding well in consciousness-only." Going one step further from here, one "plainly sees the dharma-realm," fully grasping the falsity of the two marks of "grasper and grasped," and so is freed from grasping and the grasped. This stage is the turning-over of "meaning → consciousness": the prior stage saw through meaning as mental speech; this stage draws it in, settling that all is only the manifestation of consciousness, and presses up to the gate of the path of seeing.

The path of seeing — outside the mind there is no thing; both graspings alike dissolved

Outside the mind there is no thing; the thing being absent, the mind too is absent; because one understands the absence of both, one abides well in the true dharma-realm.

The prose commentary judges: this displays the third, the "Path of Seeing" (見道位) — the bodhisattva now plainly sees the dharma-realm. The sequence is pressed out thus: first one understands that "outside the mind there is no grasped thing"; the grasped thing being absent, the grasping mind cannot stand either (with no object, whence a mind to grasp it?); and so the two marks of "grasped and grasper" alike are left behind. Having left the two graspings, the bodhisattva abides well in the very nature of the dharma-realm.

This is the chapter's turning point: after all the earlier talk of "the ultimate truth" and "no-self," only at this stage is there genuine direct realization — not hearsay, not inferential reasoning, but seeing with immediate perception that the two graspings are originally empty and suchness is present. The lifeline of Consciousness-Only contemplation lies in just these four steps: "object absent → mind absent → both absent → abiding in the dharma-realm."

The best way to feel these four steps is the dream. In a dream there are mountains and rivers, others and an "I," all vivid and present, as if "I" were on this side and "the realm" on that; yet the whole dream is nothing but the manifestation of the one dreaming thought of mind. Once one sees through that "the mountains and rivers in the dream were never outside the mind" (object absent), the "dreamer-self" standing over against those mountains and rivers dissolves at the same moment (mind absent) — because the grasping "I" was set up only over against the grasped "realm"; the realm once emptied, the mind set over against it has nowhere to stand (both absent). Object and mind alike dissolved, what one abides in right then is precisely the original reality (abiding in the dharma-realm). What the path of seeing realizes is just this "waking from the dream."

The path of cultivation — non-conceptual knowledge, like a divine antidote to poison

By the power of non-conceptual knowledge, ever equal and all-pervading in operation, in order to destroy the mass of faults — as a medicine can remove poison.

The prose commentary judges: this displays the fourth, the "Path of Cultivation" (修道位). Having entered the knowledge of the ultimate truth and completed the transformation of the basis (轉依, the root turning of the defiled into the pure — the store consciousness on which one rests turns over from the defiled to the pure), the bodhisattva, with "non-conceptual knowledge" (無分別智, the root knowledge that leaves off subject-object discrimination and directly realizes suchness), ever operates "equally" and "all-pervadingly." Why operate thus? In order to destroy the faults perfumed upon the other-dependent nature, densely accumulated layer upon layer like a thicket — the path of seeing was but the first realization; the residual dregs of the latent tendencies perfumed since beginningless time upon the other-dependent must be ground away by repeated application of non-conceptual knowledge in the path of cultivation.

The prose commentary closes with a simile: the power of this non-conceptual knowledge is like the great agada medicine (阿伽陀, the divine panacea of Indian legend that neutralizes every poison) — the poisons are manifold, one medicine removes them all. Non-discriminating knowledge, in relation to the mass of faults perfumed upon the other-dependent, is exactly so.

The ultimate stage — the mind settled in the dharma-realm, swiftly exhausting the ocean of qualities

Taking as object the dharmas well established by the Buddha, with the mind as root settled in the dharma-realm, understanding that thoughts are mere discrimination, one swiftly reaches the end of the ocean of qualities.

The prose commentary judges: this displays the fifth, the "Ultimate Stage" (究竟位). The prose commentary expounds it through a string of "questions and answers":

• Taking as object the dharmas well established by the Buddha: the bodhisattvas take, as a "total gathered object," all the wondrous dharmas well established by the Buddha — gathering them together as their object.
• Question: what is a "total gathered object"? Answer: the mind as root settled in the dharma-realm — this states that the bodhisattva has entered the knowledge of the ultimate truth. Because this knowledge abides settled in the dharma-realm, this "mind" is called "root" (it has become the root on which all qualities rest).
• Question: and after this? Answer: understanding that thoughts are mere discrimination — thereafter one again gives rise to contemplation, and, as in the earlier contemplation of phenomena, moment by moment as thought turns, one clearly knows that all thoughts are mere discrimination and not truly existent. (Even at the ultimate stage one does not part from this clarity of a single thought: as a thought arises, one knows it to be mere discrimination.)
• Question: having known thus, to what stage can one advance? Answer: one swiftly reaches the end of the ocean of qualities — knowing thus, one can swiftly reach the far shore of the ocean of the Buddha-fruit's qualities. Realization reaching here, buddhahood is fully accomplished.

Conclusion: the single line of the Chapter on Reality

Taking the ten verses together, the Chapter on Reality is one complete road from "seeing clearly what reality is" to "realizing reality":

The first verse uses the five non-dualities to establish the character of the ultimate truth (the true nature · suchness), gathering the middle way of the three natures at one stroke; the second through the fifth verses block the four distortions — breaking the view of self (no-self of persons), rebuking the failure to see suffering (with the no-self of dharmas alongside), breaking the contrary view upon dependent arising (ignorance's twofold distortion), and clarifying that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are equal and not-two in no-self; the sixth through the tenth verses open out the five stages of entry — equipment (seeing through "meaning is only mental speech"), intensified practice (turning over into consciousness-only), the path of seeing (both graspings dissolved, the dharma-realm directly realized), the path of cultivation (non-conceptual knowledge, the transformation of the basis, grinding away the mass of faults), and the ultimate (the mind settled in the dharma-realm, swiftly exhausting the ocean of qualities).

First establish the character of reality, then break the distortions toward it, and finally enter it through the five stages — this is the Chapter on Reality: it not only tells you what reality "is," but tells you how, step by step, to "become" one who sees reality.

The Chapter on Reality had one see reality; reality must then "put itself to work" — and one of the ways it works is through supernormal powers (神通, superhuman masteries). At the word "supernormal power" the mind is quick to run toward "wondrous feats"; yet this chapter, from first to last, holds fast to one question: the bodhisattva's supernormal powers — what are they for? There is only one answer — to benefit sentient beings — and throughout, they are held under the governance of non-conceptual knowledge (無分別智, the root knowledge that leaves off subject-object discrimination). Cut away from this, a power becomes a display of the marvellous; held fast to it, a power is the hands and feet of compassion-and-wisdom.

I. The six knowledges: six modes of "penetrant, unobstructed knowing"

Arising-and-ceasing, and speech-and-sound, the workings of mind, and prior dwellings, going toward them to bring about release: the six knowledges, the masterful powers.

The substance of the bodhisattva's supernormal powers is six kinds of knowledge (the six supernormal powers), each illuminating one domain, knowing it through and through without obstruction, and doing so with valor and mastery: knowing sentient beings' birth-and-death (the divine eye, 天眼); hearing sentient beings' speech (the divine ear, 天耳); knowing others' thoughts of mind (knowing-others'-minds, 他心); knowing sentient beings' former lives, the good and evil they gathered (recollection-of-past-lives, 宿命); being able to go anywhere to transform them (magical travel, 神足); and knowing whether sentient beings are ripe or unripe for release (the ending-of-outflows, 漏盡).

These six are not six conjuring-tricks; they are six eyes for "seeing sentient beings clearly, through and through" — to know a being's birth-and-death, to know his mind, to know his former habits, to know whether he is ready to be liberated, is what makes it possible to treat the very ailment and bring rescue. The root of supernormal power turns out to be "in order to see sentient beings clearly."

This sixth knowledge (the knowledge of the ending-of-outflows, of release) has, moreover, one face that must not be overlooked: it knows not only whether others are ripe for release, it is also the self-realization of the ending-of-outflows — knowing for oneself that one's own outflows (all the leakings-away of the afflictions) are exhausted. Among the three clear knowledges, the "clear knowledge of the ending-of-outflows" is listed precisely to take up this self-realizing face: only when one's own outflows are first exhausted can one illumine whether sentient beings are ripe for release. So the knowledge of the ending-of-outflows carries both faces at once — outward, it knows others' occasion for release; inward, it is the self-realization that one's own outflows are exhausted; the two are just the inner and outer of one single matter.

II. Whence the supernormal powers come: concentration and wisdom

The fourth, the supremely purified meditation; governed by non-conceptual knowledge; with the means as they are set up: relying on these, one purifies all the powers.

Supernormal powers are not conjured out of empty air. The treatise points out their provenance: relying on the fourth meditation (第四禪, the supremely pure concentration), governed by non-conceptual knowledge, and joined further with all manner of skillful means — the bodhisattva, applying his mind and cultivating thus, attains the highest supernormal powers. Put otherwise: supernormal powers are the flowers that "concentration" and "wisdom" open — without deep concentration for a root, without non-conceptual knowledge for an eye, what is called a supernormal power is not the bodhisattva's supernormal power. This line also draws a boundary: the bodhisattva's supernormal power bears, from its birth, the seal of "non-conceptual knowledge," and will not degenerate into a plaything of self-conceit.

III. The fruits of the supernormal powers: sublime dwelling, receiving offerings, causing others' purity

The three dwellings, dwelt in beyond compare; where dwelt, well honored with offerings; causing others to attain purity: these are called the fruits of supernormal power.

Supernormal power bears three fruits: the fruit of sublime dwelling (the noble dwelling, the divine-abiding dwelling, the heavenly dwelling one dwells in, beyond compare and unsurpassed); the fruit of good offerings (wherever one dwells, the beings of the world make great offerings); and the fruit of causing others' purity (one can cause even those who come to make offerings to attain purity thereby). Mark that third fruit: the good of supernormal power stops neither at one's own "dwelling" nor at the receiving of others' offerings; more to the point, it is to let those who draw near be purified thereby too. The resting-place of the fruit still lands on "benefiting others."

IV. What the supernormal powers do: six operations, every one for the good of beings

The world's arising, abiding, and dissolution — seen as though an illusion; the manifold things others desire, brought to pass at will, with mastery.

The next several verses are the "operations" of supernormal power — what, concretely, it does. First come the self-operation and the operation toward others: as to oneself, one sees the world's and sentient beings' arising, abiding, dissolution, and emptiness all "as though an illusion," unmoved by them (this is the strength of concentration); as to others, one manifests with mastery — quaking the earth, sending forth light, and the like — according to what they need (the ten masteries, as stated in the Ten Grounds Sūtra).

The divine light shines down on the evil destinies, causing faith, birth in the good destinies; its might shakes the heavenly palaces, quaking the halls, striking Māra with dread.

The operation of light has two aspects: sending forth the divine light "downward" to shine on the evil destinies, causing beings who undergo suffering to give rise to faith and to attain birth in the good destinies (the rescue of suffering); and "upward" to shine on the heavenly palaces, quaking Māra's palace-halls and striking Māra with dread (the daunting of Māra, so that the forces of evil dare not work harm). One single beam of light: below it rescues suffering, above it daunts evil.

Sporting in all the samādhis, foremost among the assembly of monks; ever displaying the three transformations, and thereby benefiting sentient beings.

The operation of sport: within the Buddha's assembly one sports in all manner of concentrations, attaining the utmost mastery ("sporting" says the entering and leaving at will, without the least labor). The operation of transformation has three: the transformation-in-work (mastery of transformation amid the arts and crafts), the transformation-to-suit (transforming to suit what others desire), and the higher transformation (transforming while dwelling in Tuṣita and other sublime abodes) — and by these three transformations one ever benefits beings.

The power of knowledge, universal and masterful, manifests lands at will; where there is no Buddha, causing beings to hear the Buddha, hurling them into a Buddha-domain.

The operation of purification has two aspects: "purifying the land" — by the mastery of knowledge, manifesting at will pure worlds of crystal, beryl, and the like, according to what beings desire; and "purifying beings" — in a world without a Buddha, being able to cause beings to hear the Buddha and to give rise to pure faith, and even to be transferred to a place where there is a Buddha.

This "manifesting universally at will" is the very point most apt to raise doubt in the beginner: how can one single bodhisattva manifest a body simultaneously in measureless lands, and each one different according to each being's desire? For just this the Ten Grounds Sūtra invoked by the treatise itself supplies a ready comparison — 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 "It is as when the sun and moon abide in empty space, and their reflections appear in all the waters; abiding in the dharma-realm, unmoving, they accord with each mind's delight, each one differing." The moon abides in empty space, never having moved, never having divided; yet wherever there is water its reflection appears, and each river and stream holds its own single orb. So too the bodhisattva: his own person "abides in the dharma-realm, unmoving," while the delights of beings' minds each differ, and so the body he manifests, the land he manifests, follow suit and each differs. Thus "manifesting universally" is not a dividing of the body to dash about, rushing from place to place; it is "unmoving, yet responding everywhere" — and this is exactly the mastery held under the governance of non-conceptual knowledge.

Take the six operations together and one iron rule shows itself: the self-operation is the strength of concentration (unmoved by objects); the remaining five operations are, every one, for the good of beings — rescuing suffering, daunting Māra, sporting-and-preaching, transforming to draw beings in, purifying lands and purifying beings. In the bodhisattva's hands a supernormal power is a ferry-boat: its proper work is to carry people across the river, not to be taken out for a race, to contend for victory and court applause. Once "carrying people" is forgotten, the greatest supernormal power is only an empty spinning.

V. The supernormal powers come to fruition, as a bird's wings just formed

The strength that ripens sentient beings, praised by all the Buddhas, whose every utterance is believed: such are the accords, so stated.

The three virtues (accords) that come along with supernormal power: the accord of ripening beings (the strength that ripens sentient beings), the accord of praise (ever winning the praise of all the Buddhas), and the accord of being believed (whatever one speaks, people believe and accept it). Of these, the "accord of ripening beings" the treatise puts through an excellent comparison — like a bird's wings just come to their growth: the plumage once full, it can fly; the bodhisattva's strength to ripen beings once complete, he can come and go effortlessly, gathering and guiding sentient beings. The "coming to fruition" of supernormal power is not that one may fly high oneself; it is in order to fly over to where the beings are.

The six knowledges and the three clear knowledges, the eight liberations and eight bases of mastery, the ten totalities and all the samādhis: valorously, they equip supernormal power.

By what, then, is this supernormal power "supplied"? The treatise lists six "equipments of supernormal power": the six knowledges, the three clear knowledges, the eight liberations, the eight bases of mastery, the ten totalities (十遍入, the ten universal bases), and all the samādhis. These are all deep achievements of concentration and wisdom. In a word: supernormal power has its capital, and the capital is the concentration and wisdom laid up day by day — not idle talk of marvels, but the household stock of one's actual realization.

VI. The greatness of the supernormal powers: unafraid as a lion

Able to settle the unfree; ever diligent in benefiting things; faring in existence without fear, valorous as a lion.

Last, the treatise gathers up the supernormal powers with three "greatnesses": the greatness of mastery — sentient beings are bound fast by the afflictions and are not free, yet the bodhisattva, by the strength of supernormal power, can settle and rescue them with mastery; the greatness of joy — because he is ever diligent in benefiting beings, he is throughout at ease and joyful; and the greatness of fearlessness — coming and going, faring and transforming within the three existences (三有, birth-and-death in the three realms), he attains the utmost valor, unafraid as a lion (師子, the lion).

This "as a lion" gathers it up with force: the lion faring through the mountain forests fears nothing; the bodhisattva bearing supernormal power into birth-and-death, into the places of suffering to liberate beings, is unafraid in just this way — not because suffering does not exist, but because compassion-and-wisdom are in his breast and supernormal power is in his hands, and so he dares to wade into the deepest sea of suffering.

Conclusion: supernormal power is the walking-strength of compassion

Seen through as a whole, the Chapter on Supernormal Powers says this: the bodhisattva's supernormal powers are the hands and feet of compassion-and-wisdom, held for the good of beings, and governed by non-conceptual knowledge. The six knowledges are the six eyes for "seeing beings clearly"; concentration and wisdom are their root; their six operations land, every one, on rescuing suffering, gathering and transforming, purifying lands and purifying beings; their coming to fruition is like the fullness of a bird's wings, their vastness like the fearlessness of a lion.

To gather it in one line: supernormal power was never the capital for a display of the marvellous, but the walking-strength of compassion — its whole splendor lies in this one matter, "carrying beings across." Cut away from benefiting beings and from non-conceptual knowledge, then however great the transformations, they are not the "bodhisattva's supernormal power" of which this chapter speaks.

The two words "maturation" (成熟) mean, at root, just "to ripen" — like fruit on the branch that, given sunlight and given rain and dew, slowly turns from green to ripe. This chapter takes that one word "ripen" and, with it, treats the most down-to-earth stretch of work on the bodhisattva path, splitting it in two: first it treats "maturing oneself" (自成熟, ripening oneself through), and then "maturing beings" (成熟眾生, helping others ripen through). The order of these two halves matters enormously: while your own fruit is still green and sour, you cannot ripen anyone else. So, following the Chapter on Supernormal Powers, the next question is raised at once — how does the bodhisattva first ripen himself?

I. First ripen yourself through: the nine kinds of self-maturation

Aspiration, faith, relinquishment, compassion, patience, mindfulness, power, firmness, endowment with the factors — know these as self-maturation; all nine are of the highest grade.

The bodhisattva's "self-maturation" (自成熟) has nine members, and every one of them has reached the very highest grade: aspiration (欲, the earnest longing for the great Dharma); faith (信, whose very substance is the "imperishable purity" (不壞淨, the purity of faith that cannot be broken)); relinquishment (捨, the extinguishing and leaving-behind of the afflictions); compassion (悲); patience (忍); mindfulness (念, receiving and holding the Dharma without forgetting); power (力, the capacity to penetrate all things); firmness (堅, which the demons and the outside paths cannot rob away — the one against whom it is shown being "Pāpīyān," the demon-king); and endowment with the factors (支, the fullness of the wholesome portions).

For each of these nine the chapter draws out its "cause, substance, and function" — that is, for each kind of maturation, "where it comes from, what it is in itself, and what work it does." Take the maturation of aspiration, for instance: drawing near a good friend, hearing the true Dharma, and reflecting on it in accord with principle are its cause; supreme vigor, and ultimate freedom from doubt, are its substance; guarding the Great Vehicle where calamity threatens it, and receiving in faith what is expounded, are its function. Or take the maturation of compassion: seeing the suffering of beings is its cause; arousing utmost pity and leaving behind the Lesser-Vehicle mind is its substance; gaining the excellence among all worldly beings and not falling back on any of the grounds is its function — and so on with the rest. Taken together, the nine are the nine degrees of ripeness of a single "fully ripened bodhisattva heart."

II. Ripened, one can ripen others: maturing oneself matures others too

These nine things of such a kind mature oneself and mature others too, increasing the wholesome and increasing the dharma-body, like the world's closest kin.

Once these nine have ripened within oneself, the marvel comes: they not only ripen oneself but can ripen others too, and they ceaselessly increase every wholesome root and increase the dharma-body. Precisely because they can "ripen self and ripen others, increase the wholesome and increase the body," the bodhisattva becomes like the world's closest kin — intimate with beings to the very utmost.

Here lies the pivot of the whole chapter, and it can be felt through a single lamp: a lamp must first be lit before it can go and kindle another lamp; while your own lamp is still cold and dark, you cannot kindle anyone else's bright. The bodhisattva's "self-maturation" is exactly this — first lighting one's own lamp to its brightest, so that the various means of "maturing beings" that follow have a light to share out.

〔exposition-borrowed simile〕Nāgārjuna's Daśabhūmika-vibhāṣā makes exactly this point with a still more bodily comparison: "Having not yet crossed over oneself, one cannot ferry others across. Like a man himself sunk in the mire, how can he pull others out? And like one carried off by the water, he cannot rescue the drowning … Therefore one first stills and settles oneself well, and afterward transforms others." — Still stuck in the mud yourself, how can you reach out a hand to pull another out of the mud? Being swept off by the water yourself, on the verge of sinking, how can you go and save the drowning? So the bodhisattva's order is "first still and settle oneself well, and afterward transform others," which is exactly the same principle as this chapter's "first ripen oneself, then ripen others." One sees that "only the ripened can ripen others" is no single-house saying of this treatise, but the plain honest truth held in common across the Great Vehicle. The Consciousness-Only lineage says the same: the Yogācārabhūmi · Bodhisattva Ground also sets up a "Chapter on Maturation," likewise coming after supernormal power (majestic might) and expounding "maturing oneself, maturing beings," in accord with this chapter's order — this pattern of "first ripen oneself, then ripen others" is sung in both places alike.

III. What counts as "ripened": the two portions, one to relinquish and one to use

When the abscess ripens it is fit to be treated; when food is cooked it is fit to be eaten; the ripening of beings is likewise, because of the two portions — relinquishing and using.

So then, what is being ripened in "maturing beings"? The treatise breaks it open with two vivid comparisons — within beings there are "two portions": one is the obstruction-portion (障分, the afflictions), the other the remedy-portion (治分, the wholesome dharmas). When the obstruction-portion ripens, it is to be "relinquished" — just as when an abscess ripens, that is precisely the time to lance it and drain out the pus; when the remedy-portion ripens, it is to be "used" — just as when food is cooked, that is precisely the time to take it and eat.

This comparison is very down-to-earth: the afflictions cannot be pulled up the moment one arrives; they must "ripen" to their time (the occasion having come, the capacity being sufficient) before they can be relinquished clean. Nor can wholesome roots be helped along by pulling at the sprouts; they must "ripen" to the right heat before they can be used. Maturing beings is just the taking hold of the "right heat" of this one relinquishing and one using.

IV. The eight marks of maturing beings, and a heart beyond compare

Relinquishing, universal, superior, responsive, wholesome, gaining, constant, gradual — these eight; such are all the maturations, and this states their kinds of distinction.

To mature others has eight marks: relinquishing (捨, causing the afflictions to be extinguished); universal (普, transforming by means of the three vehicles); superior (勝, surpassing the outside paths); responsive (隨, expounding in response to the capacity); wholesome (善, with a reverent mind); gaining (得, causing beings to gain an undistorted understanding); constant (常, causing them never to fall back); and gradual (漸, causing gradual and ordered increase). These eight are the eight places where the bodhisattva takes hold in guiding beings — extinguishing their delusion, universalizing to their capacity, surpassing their wrong views, meeting their faculties, revering the person, rectifying the understanding, firming the resolve, advancing them step by step.

Benefiting one's child, benefiting one's kin, benefiting oneself — these three benefits are supreme … The worldly do not [truly] love even themselves; how much less can they love others? The bodhisattva relinquishes self-love, only for the sake of loving others.

What supports these eight marks is a heart beyond compare. The treatise takes the affections of the world as a comparison: worldly people cherish their children, are filial to their parents, and look after themselves — these three loves are already the keenest there are; yet the bodhisattva's heart, which "universally vows to ripen all beings," far surpasses these three and is beyond all comparison. A layer deeper: worldly people cannot even manage their own "self-love" well (they cannot so much as settle themselves in what is truly to their benefit), how much less love others? The bodhisattva, on the contrary, simply relinquishes self-love and acts only for the sake of loving others. This heart that "relinquishes self-love and acts only to love others" is the continuation of the previous chapter's (the Twofold Benefit) "loving others above oneself," and is the root of why maturing beings surpasses the world.

V. The six perfections are the six pairs of hands for maturing beings

The six verses that follow use the six perfections (六波羅蜜) to state, one by one, how the bodhisattva ripens beings. These six passages share a common pattern: each perfection "gives a portion of real benefit in this present life, and plants a portion of wholesome root for the future" — spanning and gathering both the present and future ages. It can be felt through an old saying: "Give a person a fish, and teach him to fish as well" — one hand passes over the meal before his eyes, the other plants the seed for what is to come; the six perfections are just such six pairs of hands.

• Giving (布施, 檀 giving): relinquishing body and wealth, all of it; giving with equality; giving without weariness. In the present life it makes the one in want sufficient (the fish); for the future it establishes wholesome roots in him (the fishing).
• Discipline (持戒, 尸 discipline): with the five kinds of moral discipline (constant · intrinsic · complete · self-delighting · heedful) it gathers both ages. In the present life it establishes for him the body of the precepts; for the future it causes the merit of the two fruits to be unbroken. For the source of this maturation-through-discipline, the commentary itself cites a scripture as proof — "because the ten courses of wholesome action are all complete, as the Ten Grounds Sūtra (十地經) states" — that is, it takes the complete moral discipline and ten courses of wholesome action of the Ten Grounds Sūtra as the scriptural ground for maturation-through-discipline (a treatise must connect back to a scripture).
• Patience (忍辱, 羼提 patience): this passage is the most moving — when someone comes at him with "non-benefit," the bodhisattva actually regards it as a benefit and arouses the greatest patience. Why? Because that very person has helped bring to completion the growth of my perfection of patience. The one who vexes me becomes, on the contrary, a benefactor of my practice; in the present life it causes him to arouse a turning-toward, and for the future it causes him to plant wholesome roots.
• Vigor (精進, 毘梨耶 vigor): through hundreds of thousands of millions of eons he practices the supreme vigor, and for the sake of ripening boundless beings his heart does not fall back; in the present life he will not let slip even a single thought of wholesomeness he can draw out of another, how much less will he in the future cause measureless wholesome roots to increase.
• Meditation (禪定, 禪 meditation): the meditative concentration he has gained has left behind craving, views, and conceit, and is the most sovereign of all; in the present life it causes him to turn toward the wondrous Dharma, and for the future causes his wholesome roots to increase.
• Wisdom (般若, 般若 wisdom): knowing the true (解法不顛倒, understanding the Dharma without distortion) and knowing the intent (看透眾生心, seeing through the minds of beings and cutting off their doubts); in the present life it causes him to revere the great Dharma, and for the future causes the merit of self and others to be perfected.

Running through the six perfections, one sees a plain principle: maturing beings is not a single stir of emotion, but one hand of real benefit and one hand of long nurture, a steady flowing stream that looks after present and future together.

VI. The great maturation: the slow work to the very end of time

Wholesome destinies and the three vehicles; the great compassion has three grades; to the very end of the future age — thus does one ripen beings.

Finally, the treatise sets "maturation" against the widest possible scale and speaks of it as three kinds of "greatness": greatness of station (位大, exhausting the four stations of practice, establishing for beings the wholesome path together with the three vehicles); greatness of grade (品大, the great compassion deepening ground by ground, divided into three grades — the lower on the ground of faith-and-practice, the middle from the first ground to the seventh, the higher on the eighth, ninth, and tenth grounds; the deeper the ground, the wider the compassion); and greatness of time (時大, the seasons boundless, to the very end of the future age).

Returning to that root simile of "ripening fruit": one fruit that becomes a buddha, one grove that ferries beings across, must ripen from a single thought of compassion all the way to the end of the future age. It cannot be rushed (pull at the sprouts to help them grow, and you ruin the root instead), and it cannot be skimped (let it drop half-ripe, and it is a waste) — this is the very bearing of the "great maturation": with the deepest compassion, walking the longest road, slowly ripening oneself and all beings to fullness.

Conclusion: the whole way lies in the one word "ripen"

Read through as a whole, the Chapter on Maturation holds fast, from beginning to end, to the one word "ripen": first ripen oneself (the nine kinds of self-maturation, like a lamp first lighting itself), then ripen others (relying on the relinquishing-and-using of the two portions, the eight marks, and the two-age nurture of the six perfections, to the very end of the future age). The heart in the middle — "relinquishing self-love, acting only to love others" — is the root of why maturing beings surpasses the world; and the "right heat" of that one relinquishing and one using is the knack by which maturing beings hits the mark.

To close in a phrase: the bodhisattva path comes down, in the end, to a single word — "ripen": only when you yourself are ripened through can you help another ripen; and this ripening is a slow work carried to the end of the future age, never too late. When the fruit is ripe the stem drops of itself — it cannot be rushed, and it cannot be skimped.

The Awakening Chapter (菩提品) is the "eye" of the Treatise Adorning the Mahāyāna Scriptures (大乘莊嚴經論). In his preface to the translation, Li Baiyao singles out this one chapter as "the most subtle and wondrous of all," saying that it "transforms the eight consciousnesses so as to accomplish the four wisdoms, and gathers the four wisdoms so as to furnish the three bodies — set out in fullness as the scriptures and treatises had never done before." Yet this "transforming consciousness into wisdom, the four wisdoms and the three bodies" is only one especially prominent section; the chapter proceeds through the causes, body, wisdom, works, and uncontaminated dharma-realm of buddhahood, and closes by urging one to arouse the mind and seek. This exposition follows that major sequence section by section.

It stands as a pair with the Chapter on Reality: the Chapter on Reality expounds the path of cultivation-and-realization (the five positions, ending in "the transformation of the basis"); the Awakening Chapter expounds the fruit of cultivation-and-realization (once the transformation of the basis is complete, that is precisely the wisdom, the body, the works, and the realm set forth here). Walk the path to its end, and what it bears is this whole tree of fruit.

Let one key that runs through the entire chapter be made plain at the outset: the eight consciousnesses (八識) and the transformation of the basis (轉依, āśraya-parāvṛtti). Consciousness-Only (唯識) divides mind-consciousness into eight: the prior five consciousnesses (eye, ear, nose, tongue, and body, which discriminate the five sense-objects); the sixth, mind-consciousness (第六意識, which discriminates and deliberates); the seventh, manas (第七末那識, the defiled consciousness that grasps the eighth as a "self"); and the eighth, store consciousness (第八阿賴耶識, the root consciousness that holds seeds). Later the chapter pairs these four groups with the four wisdoms through "the eighth, seventh, sixth, and five consciousnesses are attained in sequence through transformation." This sequence is an important thread of the chapter, but the verse does not decide whether what precedes and follows is one identical consciousness-substance, nor does this line establish that the defiled eight consciousnesses are not annihilated. This exposition therefore follows the sequence in explaining the wisdom, body, realm, and works of buddhahood without adding a verdict of substantial identity.

1. The Wisdom of All Modes: Both the "Cause" and the "Fruit" of Becoming a Buddha Are Already Complete

The prose commentary says: the foregoing has finished expounding "the bodhisattva maturing sentient beings"; next is to be expounded "the bodhisattva's attaining the wisdom of all modes" (一切種智) — that all-knowing wisdom which is the fruit of Buddhahood.

At the outset one line is put as a question: for a person to walk all the way to "becoming a Buddha," what, after all, must be complete? The first verse answers the side of the "cause":

All hardships already done, all good already gathered, all time already traversed, all obstruction already cut.

The cause of "the wisdom of all modes" is complete when these four "alls" have been carried to the very end: all hardships already done — the immeasurable hundreds of thousands of kinds of hard practice have all been practiced through, never once wearying; all good already gathered — the roots of good whose very nature is the six perfections (六波羅蜜) have all been gathered in; all time already traversed — the long kalpas and long stretches of time have all been passed through (this is no matter of one or two lifetimes); all obstruction already cut — even the subtlest, finest obstructions on all the grounds have been cut off to the last. One must feel the weight of these four lines: becoming a Buddha is no bargain won in a single thought; it is hard practice, roots of good, long time, and the cutting of obstruction — each and every one cultivated to the two words "all," before the ground of the cause is counted complete.

The cause being complete, what is the "fruit" like? The second verse answers:

The accomplishing of all modes — this itself is the Buddha's body; as when a great chest is opened, and no jewel within fails to appear.

The prose commentary speaks of this fruit from three layers: attainment (from this point on, the wisdom of all modes is accomplished); essential nature (this very wisdom of all modes, in its own substance, is the Buddha's body); and simile — and this simile most repays reflection: the fruit of Buddhahood is like a great treasure-chest suddenly flung open, all the jewels within appearing at once before the eye. Why "a chest opened, the jewels appearing"? Because "the inconceivable jewels of the factors of awakening" — the powers, the fearlessnesses, the exclusive dharmas, that whole store of qualities — are not added on one by one at leisure; rather, at the very moment the ground of the cause is completed, the lid lifts and the myriad virtues appear all together. Cultivating the cause is like heaping jewels into the chest, realizing the fruit is like opening the chest and the treasures appearing: what was heaped up is precisely what now, in this very moment, appears.

Here the prose commentary points out the first pivot of the whole chapter: this "wisdom of all modes" is itself the "Buddha's body." What follows then asks: this "body" — is it "existent" or "non-existent"?

2. The Buddha's Body Free of the Two Extremes: To Call It "Existent" Is Wrong, To Call It "Non-existent" Is Wrong

The white dharmas are the Buddha's body — not non-existent, not existent either; the Buddha is the cause of the dharma-jewel, the Dharma in turn the cause of roots of good.

Since the wisdom of all modes has been said to be the Buddha's body, then this Buddha-body is the substance into which the "white dharmas" (白法, all the pure and good dharmas, the six perfections and the rest) have been transformed. But the moment one goes to ask whether it is "existent" or "non-existent," the prose commentary at once sets the matter straight: not non-existent, not existent either. To say it is "not non-existent," because it is no different from suchness (真如 is not annihilation); to say it is "not existent," because it has no establishable real self-nature. This is called "free of the two extremes" (無二相) — falling into neither the "existent" side nor the "non-existent" side. Why must "free of the two extremes" be established for the Buddha-body right after? Because to grasp the Buddha-body as really "existent" falls into superimposition; to grasp it as annihilated "non-existent" falls into denial — the Buddha-body is precisely the middle-way substance that departs from these two extremes.

The latter two lines bring out the Buddha-body's "generative power": the Buddha is the cause of the dharma-jewel (the Buddha proclaims all dharmas, and further manifests them by supernormal power, and so the Buddha is the cause of the "dharma-jewel"); the Dharma in turn is the cause of roots of good (the Dharma is in turn the cause of sentient beings' "roots of good"). The prose commentary draws a farming comparison: with sentient beings as the field and roots of good as the grain — the dharma-jewel falls into the field of sentient beings, and there the grain of roots of good grows up. A single chain of growth: the Buddha gives birth to the Dharma, the Dharma gives birth to roots of good.

The next verse "brings out the foregoing meaning again," gathering this chain into two still more vivid images:

Possessing the dharmas and free of the dharmas, like a treasury and like a cloud; giving birth to the Dharma and raining down the rain of Dharma — so are these similes made.

Possessing the dharmas and free of the dharmas: the Buddhas fully possess all good dharmas, and are also free of all unwholesome dharmas — one possessing, one freeing, and the virtue is complete. What matters is the twofold simile in the latter line: the Buddha-jewel is like a "great treasury," the dharma-jewel is like a "great cloud." Why matched this way? The prose commentary itself answers it: the sense taken is "giving birth to the Dharma, raining down the Dharma" — the Buddha-jewel can give birth to the dharma-jewel, just as a great treasury of jewels can give birth to the many jewels (the treasury is the source that "gives birth"); the dharma-jewel can nourish and grow sentient beings' roots of good, just as a great cloud sending down rain can nourish and grow the hundred grains (the cloud is the bestowal that "moistens-and-gives-life"). One is a treasury (whence the myriad jewels come forth), one is a cloud (the sweet rain sprinkled everywhere so that all things grow of themselves): the Buddha and the Dharma stand to sentient beings' roots of good just so — one a source, one a moistening.

3. The Unsurpassed Refuge: Why the Buddha Is That One Place to Which Sentient Beings Can Finally Return

The Buddha-body being now clear, the following section asks a more intimate thing: within the bitter sea of birth-and-death, is there, after all, a place of refuge for sentient beings that can be relied on, relied on to the very end? This whole section expounds the "unsurpassed refuge" (無上歸依) — first in brief, then at large, then pointing out wherein it is "surpassing" and wherein it is "great."

The Buddhas ever save and protect sentient beings' three defilements: the afflictions, the evil deeds, and birth, old age, and death.

Briefly setting forth "saving and protecting": the Buddhas save and protect to the very last (they save all the way, never letting go halfway). Save and protect from what? Sentient beings' three kinds of defilement — the defilement of affliction (the afflictions, the class of greed, hatred, and delusion), the defilement of karma (the evil deeds, the evil karma wrought), and the defilement of birth (birth, old age, and death, saṃsāra itself). Note that these three layers stand in sequence: affliction gives rise to karma, karma summons birth — from the affliction at the root, to the karma wrought, to the fruit of suffering undergone, the Buddha saves and protects the whole chain of saṃsāra, "at all times saving and protecting without letting go." These two words, "not letting go," are the meaning of "to the very last."

The various calamities and the evil destinies, the view of self and also the lesser vehicle — sentient beings such as these, one and all, are saved and protected.

Setting forth "saving and protecting" at large, spreading out the sentient beings who are saved so that class by class none is omitted: the various calamities — the blind, the deaf, the mute, the mad, the deranged, the maimed; by the Buddha's power the blind come to see, the deaf to hear, the mute to speak, the mad to right mind, the deranged to concentration, the maimed to wholeness; the evil destinies — the beings of the hells and the rest, whom the Buddha's light touches and illumines, causing them to be freed of suffering and to fall no more; the view of self — the beings who grasp at a "self," made to awaken to the "no-self of persons" and enter the nirvāṇa of the two vehicles; the lesser vehicle — those of indeterminate two-vehicle lineage, drawn by skillful means to turn back and enter the great vehicle (大乘). From the maimed in bodily faculty, to those fallen into evil destinies, to those grasping at self, to those stalled in the lesser — all four classes are gathered in entire: one may see that "saving and protecting" is not the saving of one kind of person only, but that all sentient beings, high and low, deep and shallow, are within this net.

The Buddha is the surpassing place of refuge, unsurpassed because beyond compare; the manifold fears as spoken above — there is not one from which he does not set free.

Wherein is the refuge "surpassing"? — Beyond compare, therefore unsurpassed. The Buddha has no one that can be set beside him, and so he is the "unsurpassed" place of refuge; and just because he is unsurpassed, of the three defilements, the various calamities, and all the fears spoken above, there is not one from which he cannot set sentient beings free. Herein lies the true meaning of "refuge": the more ultimate and unsurpassed the object to which you return, the deeper the floor of the rescue that reaches you — only in returning to the unsurpassed is there the guarantee of "not one from which he does not set free."

The Buddhas, bodies full of good, surpassing all the world, convert sentient beings with wondrous Dharma, for they have crossed the sea of compassion.

The "cause" of the refuge's surpassing — on what strength can the Buddha be this unsurpassed refuge? On two things: first, self-benefit brought to the ultimate (the Buddhas' bodies full of good, surpassing all the world — the qualities of power, fearlessness, and the rest, complete as their very nature, so that they themselves have first reached the far shore); second, benefit of others brought to the ultimate (they convert sentient beings with wondrous Dharma, having crossed the sea of great compassion to the far shore). One who has not himself reached the shore cannot save others; the Buddha is complete in self-benefit and yet more complete in the vow of compassion, and so is fit to be a refuge.

To the very limit of the future, reaching universally all beings, benefiting them at all times — this is called the greatness of the refuge.

Wherein is the refuge "great"? In three senses: greatness of time (exhausting the very limit of all sentient beings' birth-and-death, saving to the limit of the future); greatness of scope (taking all sentient beings as its object, choosing out not one); greatness of work (at all times performing benefit, saving from suffering, causing deliverance). Unending in time, unremitting in object, unresting in work — the "greatness" lies in these three "un-"s. One line gathers this section: the Buddha as refuge is surpassing (unsurpassed), caused (the twofold benefit of self and other brought to the ultimate), and great (the three inexhaustibles of time, scope, and work), and so is the last, the surest, the most thorough place of return for sentient beings.

4. The Characteristic of the Tathāgata's Transformation of the Basis: The Root of the Fruit of Buddhahood Is the Whole Overturning of the Ordinary Being's "Basis"

This whole section is the spine of the entire chapter — it expounds "the transformation of the basis." What has gone before, expounding the Buddha-body and the refuge, is all well; but where is the root of all this? The root lies in the transformation of the basis: turning the defiled "basis" over into purity. First it asks: this one "turning" — what, after all, does it overturn, and what does it attain?

The seeds of the two obstructions ever pursue; their cessation is a cutting most vast, for the white dharmas are complete — the basis being turned, the two paths are accomplished.

The transformation of the basis has a "freeing-from" and also an "attaining." The side of freeing-from (the counteracted set at a distance): the seeds of the two obstructions — the afflictive obstruction and the cognitive obstruction — from beginningless time have ever pursued us; now they are "cut most vast" — "most" is on all the grounds, "vast" is in all their kinds, so that even the deepest, finest seeds are forever extinguished. The side of attaining (the counteragent accomplished): the Buddha's substance corresponds with the supreme and complete white dharmas, and at that moment, the "basis" once turned, the two paths are accomplished — one, "the path of the utterly pure supramundane wisdom" (illumining the true), and two, "the path of the wisdom whose objects are the boundless knowables" (illumining the conventional). This is what is called the transformation of the basis: cutting the seeds of the two obstructions (freeing-from), attaining the two paths of wisdom (attaining) — the two sides of one and the same overturning.

There the Tathāgata abides, unmoving as the king of mountains; he pities even those who delight in cessation — how much more those attached to existence.

This one turning — why, among all "turnings," is it the most surpassing? Because the uncontaminated realm in which the Tathāgata abides after the transformation of the basis is "unmoving as the king of mountains" — like the king of the mountain ranges set firm upon the great earth, abiding without shaking. Why borrow the "king of mountains"? To bring out that weight of abiding unmoving, never again to fall back: the ordinary being's mind flows and turns with objects; even the two vehicles' realization can still be shaken; the Buddha alone, in this one turning, is like the king of mountains set firm upon the earth, never to fall away. And within this unmoving there is held a great compassion: the Buddha, abiding thus, looks back upon those śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas who "delight in quiescent cessation" and still gives rise to pity (sighing that they seek only their own release); how much more those, far off in the low and the mean, who are attached to "existence" and undergo suffering? — unmoving yet not cold, abiding yet the compassionate heart the more urgent: this is the Buddha's "surpassing transformation."

Benefit of others and the unsurpassed, not-turned and unarisen, vast and free of the two, non-abiding and equal, excellent and universally bestowed — this is called the Tathāgata's turning, displaying ten qualities, whose differing meanings should be known.

These two verses list the merits of "the Tathāgata's turning" as ten kinds of quality; it is worth acknowledging them one by one: ① the turning that is for others' benefit (once turned, it is for benefiting others); ② the unsurpassed turning (attaining mastery over all dharmas, surpassing the two vehicles' turning); ③ the not-turned turning (the defiling causes can no longer turn this "basis"); ④ the unarisen turning (all defiled dharmas utterly do not arise); ⑤ the vast turning (able to display great awakening and the great final nirvāṇa); ⑥ the turning free of the two (birth-and-death and nirvāṇa are without duality); ⑦ the non-abiding turning (abiding in neither the conditioned nor the unconditioned); ⑧ the equal turning (together with the two vehicles equally liberated from the afflictive obstruction); ⑨ the excellent turning (the powers, fearlessnesses, and the rest of the Buddha-dharmas without equal); ⑩ the universally-bestowed turning (ever instructing sentient beings by all the vehicles). The ten seem scattered, but in truth a single thread strings them: this one "turning" — downward it can benefit others and bestow universally (compassion), upward it can be masterful and excellent (wisdom), toward itself it can be not-turned and unarisen (steadfast), and toward birth-and-death and nirvāṇa it can be free of the two and non-abiding (the middle way) — wisdom, compassion, steadfastness, and the middle way, the whole rubric of the Buddha's virtues, are all within this one turning.

The transformation of the basis being now clear, the prose commentary goes on to use three vivid similes to expound thoroughly the relation between "the Buddha-substance after the transformation of the basis" and sentient beings — does it pervade or not? Is it seen or not? How does it come forth and pass away?

As space pervades all things, so the Buddha too pervades all; as space pervades all forms, so the Buddhas pervade sentient beings.

First, "pervasion": the Buddha-substance is like space — space pervades all form-dharmas, while the verse says that the Buddhas pervade sentient beings. Someone will ask: sentient beings plainly are not now Buddhas, so how can the Buddha-substance be said to "pervade" sentient beings? The prose commentary answers, "because they are not yet accomplished": sentient beings have not yet accomplished the fruit of buddhahood. This exposition reports that answer without expanding "not yet accomplished" into a verdict that an already-present Buddha-nature is merely screened over.

As when the water-vessel is broken, the moon's image appears not; so through sentient beings' faults, the Buddha's image too appears not.

But since the Buddha-substance pervades all, why do sentient beings not see the Buddha? — for this the second simile is needed: the water-vessel and the moon's reflection. The moon in the sky has all along been there; yet if the vessel that holds the water is broken and the water leaks away, then the water's surface reflects no image of the moon — it is not that the moon is not there, but that the vessel that bears the moon is broken. In the same way, the Buddha's image has all along pervaded and illumined; only through sentient beings' faults (the karmic obstructions), like a broken and leaking water-vessel, is there no reflecting of the Buddha who has been there all along. That it is not seen — the fault lies in the vessel of sentient beings, not in the moon of the Buddha. This simile best resolves sentient beings' doubt: the Buddha has never not been there; it is that this basin of mine has grown turbid, has leaked away.

As the nature of a mass of fire is now ablaze, now burned out, so the transformations of the Buddhas now come forth, now enter nirvāṇa.

The third simile speaks of "coming forth and entering nirvāṇa": the verse compares the transformations of the Buddhas coming forth and entering nirvāṇa to a mass of fire blazing and going out. That is the scope of the comparison. This exposition does not infer from the extinguished fire-mass that "the nature of fire remains," or use the simile to establish some further enduring substance.

5. The Tathāgata's Works Are Ever Effortless: The Buddha Delivers Beings, Yet Spends Not a Single Thought of Contrivance

Following the above, since the Buddha is like a fire now coming forth, now passing away, is the Buddha then very "forceful," very "deliberate," in doing all these works? This section answers: no. The Buddha's works are "effortless" (無功用) — accomplished of themselves, without recourse to contrivance.

The wish-fulfilling jewel and the heavenly drum accomplish their own work of themselves; the Buddha's transforming and the Buddha's teaching are, without thought, likewise so.

Two excellent similes are set out together: the wish-fulfilling jewel (如意寶珠), though it has no mind, can yet of itself manifest all manner of things (in accord with what a person seeks, the jewel of itself responds); the heavenly drum (天鼓), though it has no mind, can yet of itself send forth all manner of wondrous sounds. The Buddha is like this too — the Buddha manifests all manner of transformations (the Buddha's transforming), like the jewel's manifesting, manifesting without mind; the Buddha teaches all manner of wondrous Dharma (the Buddha's teaching), like the heavenly drum's resounding, teaching without thought. One must feel the wonder of this "effortlessness": the ordinary being, to do a thing, must set a thought stirring, must exert force; but the Buddha delivers beings as the jewel reflects things, as the drum sounds of itself, without waiting to set the mind stirring and thought moving — accomplished by letting things run their course. The more ultimate, the less forceful.

Resting on space, the works are unbroken, yet the works have their increase and decrease; resting on the realm, the deeds are unceasing, yet the deeds have their arising and ceasing.

Again, from a simile of "resting on space," it expounds how the "unbroken" and the "arising and ceasing" of the Buddha's deeds run side by side without contradiction: the myriad affairs of the world are done resting upon space, and space is never cut off (so the world's affairs are "unbroken"), yet the world's affairs in themselves have their increase and decrease. The Buddha too is so — resting upon the uncontaminated realm he performs the Buddha's deeds, and that "basis" on which the Buddha's deeds are performed (the uncontaminated realm) is never cut off (so the Buddha's deeds are "unbroken"), while the aspect of the Buddha's deeds manifested may yet have its coming forth and passing away, its arising and ceasing. In a word: the "substance" of the Buddha's deeds (the uncontaminated realm rested upon) is ever constant and unbroken, while the "aspect" of the Buddha's deeds (manifested in accord with capacities) has its rising and its subsiding — as space is ever present while the world's affairs have their increase and decrease.

6. The Profundity of the Uncontaminated Dharma-Realm: Wherein the "Realm" in Which the Buddha Abides Is Deep

Here the whole chapter turns into its deepest section. The Buddha's body and works are now clear, but in what kind of "place," after all, does the Buddha abide? — the uncontaminated dharma-realm. This realm is "profound"; the prose commentary cuts it open from three faces: the profundity of characteristic (what kind of thing it is), the profundity of place (whether it is one or many), and the profundity of work (what function it sets in motion).

The first of the profundity of characteristic — the characteristic of purity: it is clean of itself from the start, not something washed clean afterward

As before, so after; and free of all obstruction: not pure, not impure — this the Buddha calls suchness.

The purity of the dharma-realm is wondrous in that it is "not pure, not impure." To say it is "not pure" — because its own nature is undefiled from the start ("as before, so after": it is one and the same before and after, of itself pure from the start, not something bleached white afterward, and so it cannot be called a "purity" that has been "purified" into being); to say it is "not impure" — because the adventitious defilements have afterward departed (the obstructions being now removed, it cannot be called "dirty" either). Clean of itself, so it waits on no purifying; the adventitious defilements departable, so it bears not the name of stain: this is the dharma-realm's "characteristic of purity."

This paradox — "clean of itself yet defiled by adventitious defilements, defiled yet its native cleanness not lost" — the Treatise on the Ultimate One Vehicle, the Jewel-Nature sets forth most plainly with the simile of space: "As the pure mind, like space, is ever bright and without alteration, yet by false discrimination is defiled by adventitious afflictions" — the mind is like space, of itself ever bright, never once altered, only screened over by the "adventitious defilements" of false discrimination. It says again: "As in space the undefiled, pure sun and moon are covered over by dense thick clouds and by a spread of netting" — the sun and moon are of themselves pure, covered over by thick clouds and netting; and once the clouds are gone, "the sun, without cloud-veil and the rest, complete with undefiled qualities, appears — that very substance itself." One must feel the two sides of this simile: to say "not impure," because the cloud-veil (the adventitious defilement) is really and truly covering over, openable and departable, not a nothing; to say "not pure," because the cleanness of space, of sun and moon, is native — parting the clouds only makes manifest its native brightness, not adding a jot of purity to it. The adventitious defilement is a "guest," a covering and not the substance defiled; the native cleanness is the "host," a making-manifest and not a fresh gain — "not pure, not impure" falls exactly upon this dividing-line between space and cloud-veil.

The second of the profundity of characteristic — the characteristic of the great self: within no-self, there is a "great self"

Pure, empty, without self — the Buddha calls it the foremost self; the Buddhas' self being pure, therefore the Buddha is named the great self.

This verse is the most liable to misunderstanding, and must be acknowledged with care. The Buddha-dharma plainly says "no-self" — how then does a "great self" spring up? The key lies here: this uncontaminated realm takes the "foremost no-self" (第一無我) as its own nature — the so-called "foremost no-self" is that "pure suchness" (the true suchness made manifest once the falsely-grasped self has been utterly emptied); and this pure suchness is precisely the own-nature of the Buddhas' "self." Because this "self" of the Buddha most attains purity (with not a hair's-breadth of false grasping), it is called the "great self." One must distinguish: the ordinary being's "self" is a small self grasped up out of falsity; the Buddha's "great self" is precisely the pure suchness made manifest once the false self has been emptied to the end. Empty the false self, and only then is the great self seen — it is not that a self is set up apart from no-self, but that, no-self carried to the very end, that very substance is named the great self.

Here only a ready-made image is taken, to help the beginner cross this threshold of "emptied and yet set up" 〔this image is borrowed from another scripture, and helps open understanding; it is not that the present treatise cites it〕: the Scripture of Complete Awakening (圓覺經) says that when the eye has cataracts, it falsely sees flowers in the sky, and "as those sky-flowers cease within space, one cannot speak of a fixed place where they cease — why? because there is no place where they arose." The so-called "sky-flowers" are the false sight of the cataracted eye; in space there was originally no such flower. The cataract removed, the flower gone, it is not that one has gained another "true flower" apart; it is only to give space back its original cleanness, where flower there was none. The vanishing of the false self is likewise: to empty the falsely-grasped self is not to set up, apart from no-self, some "great self" as a thing freshly gained; the false self was from the start, like the sky-flower, without arising, and its vanishing only gives back to that native pure suchness its own suchness — and this suchness is named the "great self." With this image laid down first, "within no-self a great self is spoken" will not be heard as "first saying there is none, then slipping in an existent."

The third of the profundity of characteristic — the indeterminate characteristic: whether the Buddha-substance "is or is not," admits of no fixed answer

Not substance, not non-substance — thus is the Buddha-substance spoken; and so this discourse is made: it is fixedly an indeterminate dharma.

The Buddha-substance — to say it "is (substance)" is wrong, and to say it "is not (non-substance)" is wrong. Not substance — because the two characteristics, of person and of dharma, are unspeakable (no real substantial characteristic can be pointed to); not non-substance — because the characteristic of "suchness" really is (suchness is not sheer nothing). Just for this reason, the four propositions — "after death the Tathāgata is, is not, both is and is not, neither is nor is not" — are all "indeterminate" (not to be answered with fixity) — and this is the dharma-realm's "indeterminate characteristic." Why is it indeterminate? Because the moment one answers with fixity "is" or "is not," one drags suchness, which departs from the two extremes, back into the reckoning of is and is not. The Buddha's "not answering" here is not that he does not know; it is that this reality simply does not fall into these four propositions.

The fourth of the profundity of characteristic — the characteristic of liberation: like the heat withdrawn from iron, the cataract removed from the eye

As when the iron's heat is stilled, as when the eye's cataract is removed, so too the stilling of mind-and-wisdom — one speaks not of it as having or lacking substance.

What is the characteristic of liberation? Two similes near at hand: the red-hot iron, its heat withdrawn; the cataracted eye, its cataract removed. Of these two it may be said "not substance, not non-substance" — "not substance," because the heat and the cataract are now without characteristic (the thing to be removed is gone); "not non-substance," because the iron still is, the eye still is (the characteristic of the stilling still has substance). The liberation of the Buddha's mind-and-wisdom is likewise: taking "greed" as the heat and "ignorance" as the cataract, the two being once stilled — "not substance" (greed and ignorance are stilled), "not non-substance" (the liberation of mind and wisdom still is). The wonder of this simile: liberation is not extinguishing mind-and-wisdom entire (the iron and eye still are); it is withdrawing the heat and the cataract (greed and ignorance) — removing the disease, not removing the body.

The profundity of place — is this realm one, or is it many

The Buddhas' uncontaminated realm is not one, nor is it many; because it accords with the prior bodies, and because it is not a body, being like space.

The uncontaminated dharma-realm is "not one, nor many." Not one — because it "accords with the prior bodies" (differing with each Buddha's body on the ground of the cause, so that it cannot be spoken of as one rigid thing); not many — because its substance is "not a body," like space (space has no shape or matter to be cut apart, and so cannot be spoken of as many). Again space is borrowed: is space, would you say, one block? It pervades all things; is it, would you say, many blocks? It has no boundary to divide. The dharma-realm's being "not one, not many" is just like space, which cannot be counted.

The profundity of work — the eight great functions the pure dharma-realm sets in motion: the simile of eight "suns"

Below, in a string of eight verses, the prose commentary uses a series of sun-similes to draw out one by one the eight works (functions) that the uncontaminated dharma-realm sets in motion. It is one and the same "pure realm," yet its functioning has eight kinds; the wonder is that these eight similes mostly circle about "treasury, cloud, sun," advancing layer upon layer:

As a great treasure-store is the resting-place of all jewels, so too the pure realm is the support of the Buddha-dharmas.

① The work of being the support: the pure realm is like a great treasure-store, the resting-place of all the jewels of the factors of awakening — the powers, fearlessnesses, and the rest — a place where the myriad virtues find their lodging.

As the dense clouds spread out and pour down rain to ripen the hundred grains, so too the pure realm streams forth good and matures sentient beings.

② The work of maturing sentient beings: the pure realm is like the dense clouds sending down rain, moistening the hundred grains to ripeness; from the pure realm streams forth roots of good and matures sentient beings — virtue like rain, sentient beings like sprouts.

As the sun and moon at the full are bright, pure, their orbs complete, so too the pure realm is complete in the pure gatherings of good.

③ The work of reaching the ultimate: the pure realm is like the orb of the full moon, bright and pure, complete, causing the two gatherings of merit and of wisdom to become complete — virtue like the full moon, without a jot lacking.

As the sun's orb comes forth and its streaming light illumines all, so too the pure realm streams forth teaching and converts the flock of beings.

④ The work of teaching the true Dharma: the pure realm is like the sun's orb once risen, its streaming light illumining everywhere; from the pure realm streams forth the true Dharma and converts the flock of beings — the Dharma like sunlight, illumining without remainder.

As the sun's beams joined together illumine the world in a common work, so too the pure realm — the Buddhas joined, converting in a common deed.

⑤ The work of the transformations wrought: like many sunbeams joined together at one time in a common work (drying things, ripening things), many Buddhas and many wisdoms are joined at one time in a common deed (transformation and the rest) — many Buddhas in a common work, as many suns joined in brightness.

As the sunlight illumines without limit and all at once, so the Buddha-light of the pure realm illumines — these two things likewise.

⑥ The non-discriminating work: like sunlight illumining everywhere, without division and all at once (choosing out neither noble nor mean, dividing neither before nor after, illumining all together), the Buddha-light illumines everywhere likewise without limit and all at once — non-discriminating, as the sun chooses out no thing.

As the various sunbeams are said to have clouds and the like for veil, so the Buddha-wisdoms of the pure realm are said to have sentient beings' obstruction.

⑦ The non-acting work (at times not setting works in motion): like sunlight veiled by clouds so that it cannot illumine, the Buddha-light too is veiled by sentient beings' faults (the five turbidities), and so at times sets no work in motion — it is not that the sun has no light, but that clouds screen it; not that the Buddha does not convert, but that the obstruction is thick. This simile is of one loom with the earlier "the water-vessel broken, the moon appears not": the fault is on the side of sentient beings.

As by the force of the mordant-ash the garment is dyed all manner of colours, so by the pure realm's force of practice-and-vow, liberation attains all manner of wisdoms.

⑧ The work of the wisdom of liberation: to change the simile to a dyer's house — a garment dyed relies on the force of the "mordant-ash" (the dye-fixing agent); in some places it takes all manner of colours, in some places it does not. The pure realm of the three vehicles is likewise: the Buddhas, by the force of "practice-and-vow" (行願), attain all manner of wisdoms in liberation; but the two vehicles' liberation attains not these manifold wisdoms. It is one and the same "pure realm," yet by the depth or shallowness of the force of practice-and-vow, the wisdom accomplished differs as "manifold" or "not manifold" — as in the dyer's house, where colours are complete where the ash is and lacking where it is not.

The uncontaminated realm is profound in three: in characteristic, place, and work. Thus the Buddhas speak of it — as though one dyed or painted upon space.

This verse "brings out the foregoing meaning again," gathering up the above into a whole: the profundity of the uncontaminated realm is just these three classes — characteristic (the four characteristics of purity, the great self, the indeterminate, and liberation), place (not abiding as one or many), and work (the eight works above). The last, and finest, total simile: as though one dyed or painted upon space — this uncontaminated realm has no idle elaboration, like space; and our dividing it into departments and classes to "speak of its profundity" is just like dyeing colours upon space, painting pictures upon space. Where can space be dyed, be painted? — one may know that all speech and discrimination, upon this uncontaminated realm, are but "painting upon space," speaking with nothing spoken. This simile lightly gathers up all the foregoing "characteristic, place, and work": all are strokes painted upon space.

Because all are without distinction, and because the pure suchness is attained, therefore it is said that sentient beings are named the Tathāgata-womb.

At the end of this section, the text says that sentient beings are named the "Tathāgata-womb" (如來藏). The prose commentary explains the name from the verse's two clauses: "such" from "all are without distinction," and "Thus-Come" from "the pure suchness is attained"; on that basis it applies the name tathāgatagarbha to sentient beings. This exposition reports the name and the scope of the argument here. The passage does not establish that every reader already possesses the perfected fruit of buddhahood, does not decide the one-lineage/five-lineage dispute, and does not turn equality in suchness into an independent claim that Buddhas and sentient beings are one identical substance.

7. The Transformations of the Buddhas: How Vast, How Deep the Buddha's Manifesting Is, and Whence It Comes

The uncontaminated realm being now clear, the first great function the Buddha sets in motion from within this realm is "transformation" (變化, the manifesting of the emanation body). This section first expounds the "surpassingness" (foremost) of transformation and the "profundity" of transformation, then reckons in detail the eight "particular-turning transformations" — that is, the transformative functions attained by turning, one by one, some consciousness or some faculty — and at last gathers all up.

The śrāvaka and the pratyekabuddha, the bodhisattva and the Tathāgata: the first transformation drives back the worldly, and up to the Buddha it drives back the bodhisattva.

First it displays "surpassing transformation" (the Buddha's transformation is foremost): transformation has a sequence from low to high — the worldly transformation, the śrāvaka's transformation can surpass ("drive back," that is, overturn, surpass, and quell); the śrāvaka's, the pratyekabuddha can surpass; the pratyekabuddha's, the bodhisattva can surpass; the bodhisattva's, the Buddhas can surpass. And no one's transformation can surpass the Buddhas' transformation — so the Tathāgata's transformation reaches the very summit. Rank presses rank, up to the Buddha where it stops: one may see the "surpassingness" of the Buddha's transformation.

Thus the Buddha's transformations, immeasurable and inconceivable, in accord with person, with world, with time, manifest all manner of things.

Next it displays "profound transformation": the Buddha's transformation is profound, deep in two words — immeasurable, inconceivable. In accord with what capacity of person, with what world, with what season, according to their differences, it manifests all manner of things, now more, now fewer. Why "inconceivable"? Because it is not stamped out from a single fixed mould; it is manifested in accord with the capacity, changing in a thousand ways — and this is just what leads into the "eight particular-turnings" below: the immeasurableness of the Buddha's transformation is opened out precisely by the turning of the eight kinds of faculty-and-consciousness.

Below, in eight verses, the "particular-turning transformations" are expounded one by one — turning some faculty, some consciousness, and thereby attaining some kind of surpassing transformative function:

Thus the five faculties being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: the various meanings performed throughout, the qualities twelve hundred.

Turning the five faculties (eye, ear, nose, tongue, body): two kinds of surpassingness are attained — "the various meanings performed throughout" (each faculty can use all objects interchangeably, the eye able to do the ear's work and so on, faculty and faculty freely interpenetrating) and "the qualities twelve hundred" (each faculty severally attains twelve hundred kinds of quality). The ordinary being's faculties each manage their own and obstruct one another; the Buddha having turned them, faculty and faculty use one another without obstruction.

Thus the mind-faculty being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: utterly pure, non-discriminating, ever following transformation in its course.

Turning the mind-faculty (here referring to the defiled consciousness, that is, the seventh, manas): "the utterly pure non-conceptual knowledge" (無分別智) is attained, ever running along in common work with all transformation. The root of self-grasping, most defiled, being once turned, becomes the purest non-conceptual knowledge.

Thus meaning-and-sensation being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: the pure land as one wishes, and enjoyments all appearing before one.

Turning meaning-and-sensation ("meaning" refers to the five sense-objects, "sensation" to the five consciousnesses): by this one turning, the buddha-field is pure, the things one wishes appear before one, enjoyed at will — the sovereign enjoyment of the pure land is accomplished from this.

Thus discrimination being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: the works performed by the wisdoms proceed at all times without obstruction.

Turning discrimination (referring to the sixth mind-consciousness): by this one turning, the transformations performed by the wisdoms proceed at all times without any obstruction — the mind-consciousness, most given to discriminating and reckoning, is turned into unobstructed skill.

Thus the establishing being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: abiding in the Buddha's unmoving phrase, yet not abiding in nirvāṇa.

Turning the establishing (referring to the receptacle-world): by this one turning, one abides in the Buddha's "unmoving" uncontaminated dharma-realm, yet "does not enter nirvāṇa" (does not take up quiescent cessation), ever setting surpassing transformation in motion — abiding unmoving and yet not forsaking the delivering of beings.

Thus the defilement of desire being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: abiding in the Buddha's unsurpassed bliss, manifesting a wife yet undefiled.

Turning the defilement of desire: by this one turning, two transformations are attained — one, abiding in the Buddha's "unsurpassed bliss"; two, "undefiled amid a wife" (though manifesting a household with a wife, the mind is without defiled attachment). The defilement of the desire of affliction is turned into the unsurpassed bliss of Dharma, manifesting the worldly aspect yet not stained by it.

Thus the notion of space being turned, transformation attains surpassingness: all attained as one wishes, and wherever one goes, nothing hindering.

Turning the notion of space: by this one turning, two transformations are attained — "all that one wishes attained" (attaining the "space-treasury," and so all wishes fulfilled) and "wherever one goes, nothing hindering" (attaining the "space-release," and so the places one goes are without obstruction).

Thus, by immeasurable turnings, come immeasurable transformations; the inconceivable works of all the Buddhas rest upon the undefiled.

The last verse gathers all up: by immeasurable "turnings," immeasurable "transformations" are attained — and all these inconceivable works of the Buddhas rest, one and all, upon "the uncontaminated dharma-realm (the undefiled)." Having expounded the eight particular-turnings, here it gathers them in: the turnings, though immeasurable, are basically one realm only. All the transformations stream forth from that one uncontaminated dharma-realm.

8. The Buddhas Maturing Sentient Beings: How the Buddha "Rears" Sentient Beings to Buddhahood

The Buddha's transformation being now vast, the aim of transformation is "maturing sentient beings." This section expounds specifically the manifold "causes" (gateways, modes) by which the Buddha matures sentient beings, in a string of three sets of similes — sun, lamp, and sea.

Causing to gather, and causing to grow; causing to ripen, and causing to be freed; ripening and ripening, without remainder — for the world is without end.

First, the "cause of maturing in sequence": maturing has its sequence — those who have not gathered roots of good are caused to gather them, those who have gathered are caused to increase, those who have grown are caused to ripen, those who have ripened are caused to be freed, until the utmost purity is reached. The wonder is in the latter two lines: "ripening and again ripening, yet not entering the final nirvāṇa" — why? Because the world is without end — sentient beings cannot be delivered to the last, and so the Buddha never rests his hand. This one line expounds the Buddha's compassion to its very floor: it is not that, having delivered them all, he departs; it is that, sentient beings being endless, the delivering too is endless.

The hard-to-attain now fully attained, everywhere a refuge for beings — rare, and yet not rare, by reason of attaining the good skillful means.

Setting forth the "characteristic of the not-rare" (the practice of the bodhisattva already matured): the highest quality of unsurpassed awakening was from the start "never-before-had," hard to attain; now, fully possessed and corresponding, one can ever be a refuge for beings in the worlds of the ten directions. To mature sentient beings everywhere thus is "rare"; yet it may be called "not rare" — why? Because the good skillful means has been attained. The so-called good skillful means is "the way that accords with capacity," which is pure practice. The wonder is in this "rare and yet not rare": in the eyes of sentient beings it is wondrous and hard to attain; but on the Buddha's part it is accomplished by letting things run their course (the good skillful means once attained, it is as everyday as home life), taken as nothing wondrous.

Turning the Dharma and the Dharma's passing, attaining the path and nirvāṇa — everywhere skillful means arise, while the true dharma-realm does not move.

Setting forth the "cause of universal maturing": in "a single instant," the Buddha can, here manifest the turning of the Dharma-wheel, there manifest the passing-away of the true Dharma, in one place manifest the attaining of awakening, in another place manifest the entering of nirvāṇa — in the same instant, differently manifested in the eight directions, only because sentient beings' capacities differ. Yet the marvel is the last line: setting skillful means in motion everywhere thus, yet upon the uncontaminated dharma-realm never once moving. What moves is the manifesting in accord with capacity; what does not move is the dharma-realm rested upon — again "the aspect moves while the substance does not move" (of one vein with the earlier "resting on space the works are unbroken").

Raising no discriminating thought, maturing the past, future, and present, everywhere converting sentient beings, ever manifesting the three gateways.

Setting forth the "cause of spontaneous maturing": the Buddhas never raise such a thought as — "I have delivered, I shall deliver, I now deliver sentient beings." Why? Because of non-discrimination (the Buddha, in delivering beings, keeps no thought of a deliverer and a delivered). Though effortless, yet at all times, with roots of good, he matures sentient beings throughout the worlds of the ten directions by the "three gateways" (the teaching-gateways of the three vehicles). The wonder is that "raising no discriminating thought" and yet "maturing past, future, and present": to convert without mind is precisely to convert to the very end — keep one thought of "I am delivering beings," and one falls into effort; without this one thought, the converting pervades the three times.

As the sun's light of itself illumines, breaks the dark and ripens the hundred grains, so too the Dharma-sun's light extinguishes affliction and matures sentient beings.

Illustrating by simile the sense of "spontaneous": like the sun's orb, spending no toil, of itself giving forth light, everywhere breaking the dark and ripening the hundred grains; the Buddha too is so — though effortless, with the light of the "Dharma-sun" he everywhere extinguishes affliction and matures sentient beings. "Effortlessly accomplishing a great work" — the sun is the best model: when did the sun ever set the mind to illumine someone, to ripen someone? It illumines everywhere of itself, and the hundred grains ripen of themselves.

One lamp lights the many lamps, the great gathering of brightness inexhaustible; one matured converts many to maturity, the converting too inexhaustible.

The "cause of maturing in continuation" uses the lamp simile: one lamp goes to light the many lamps, kindling them into a great gathering of lamps, immeasurable and numberless, yet the brightness of that one lamp is not diminished by being shared out. The Buddha too is so: one Buddha matures sentient beings, converting many to maturity, forming a great gathering of sentient beings, yet the power of that converting is without end. The wonder is in "one lamp inexhaustible": plainly transmitted everywhere, yet undiminished in itself — the Buddha's virtue shared out to immeasurable sentient beings, yet its own substance unimpaired.

The vast sea takes in the many streams, without surfeit and without overflow; the Buddha-realm gathers in the many goods, neither filled nor increased.

The "cause of maturing without surfeit" uses the sea simile: the vast sea broadly takes in the hundred rivers, with neither "surfeit" (never sated with more) nor "overflow" (never brimming with fullness), because it can receive and hold. The Buddha-realm too is so: ever gathering in immeasurable pure roots of good, yet "neither filled nor increased" (never, by gathering in much, becoming "full" or "increased"), because the Buddha's virtue is rare, not to be measured by fullness or increase from the start. The sea takes in the hundred rivers and does not overflow; the Buddha gathers in the many goods and is not filled — its measure so vast that there is no "fullness" to speak of.

9. The Purity of the Buddhas' Dharma-Realm: From Nature, Cause, Work, and Position, Looking Again at This Pure Realm

This short section, following on from the uncontaminated dharma-realm above, changes the angle and, from the four senses of nature, cause, work, and position, points out "the purity of the dharma-realm" once more, leading into the three bodies of the following text.

The two obstructions now forever removed, the dharma of suchness attains purity; over things and the wisdom that cognizes them, sovereign and inexhaustible too.

The "nature" sense of the dharma-realm: the characteristic of purity — the two obstructions of affliction and of the cognitive are both forever exhausted (the dharma of suchness attains purity); the characteristic of sovereignty — over both "things" and "the wisdom that takes them as object" it attains sovereignty, forever inexhaustible. Nature is just its native aspect of "pure and sovereign."

The wisdom of suchness in all modes, the cause of cultivating the pure dharma-realm; benefiting and gladdening, converting sentient beings — this fruit too is inexhaustible.

The "cause" sense of the dharma-realm: to make the dharma-realm pure, one cultivates at all times "the wisdom of the gateway of suchness in all modes" as the cause; to convert sentient beings, one bestows at all times the two fruits of "benefit and gladness" upon sentient beings, ever inexhaustible. Cultivating the wisdom of suchness is the cause, benefiting and gladdening sentient beings is the fruit — cause and fruit both "inexhaustible."

Setting in motion body, speech, and mind, the three works ever converting; the two gateways and the two gatherings, the skillful means all complete.

The "work" sense of the dharma-realm: setting in motion the three works of body, speech, and mind, at all times converting sentient beings; with the "two gateways" (the gateway of concentration, the gateway of dhāraṇī) and the "two gatherings" (the gathering of merit, the gathering of wisdom) as skillful means, all made complete. Work is just its function of "the three works converting beings, the two gateways and two gatherings as its instruments."

The self-nature and the Dharma-enjoyment and the transformation — the difference of positions; this by the purity of the dharma-realm, so the Buddhas have spoken.

The "position" sense of the dharma-realm: the self-nature body, the enjoyment body (受用身), and the emanation body — this is the difference of "positions"; and that these three positions can be established is entirely by "the purity of the dharma-realm" — were the dharma-realm not pure, these positions of the three bodies would not stand. This verse is a bridge: from "the purity of the dharma-realm" it directly draws out the "three bodies" below — the three bodies are precisely the three positional differences of the pure dharma-realm.

10. The Three Bodies of the Buddhas: Dharma, Enjoyment, and Transformation — One Root and Two Dependents

Following on from the "position" sense above, this section expounds specifically the "three bodies." First it establishes the three bodies and discerns their support and characteristic, then expounds the twofold benefit, the constancy, and the equality of the three bodies.

The self-nature body and the enjoyment body and the emanation body — joined, the three bodies; it should be known that the first body is the support of the other two.

Every Buddha has three bodies: the self-nature body (自性身, established by the "characteristic of the transformation of the basis" — the very substance of the pure dharma-realm); the enjoyment body (食身, which in the great assembly performs the "Dharma-food," nourishing the holy multitude with Dharma); and the emanation body (化身, which performs the benefit of the sentient beings to be converted). The one line that matters: the self-nature body is the support of the enjoyment body and the emanation body — it is the "root." One root (the self-nature body) and two branches (enjoyment and emanation); the two bodies both arise from the self-nature body.

The enjoyment body, in the various realms, has differences of enjoyment: the lands, the names, the bodies, the works — all being different.

Speaking of the "enjoyment body" alone: in all worlds, its retinues, buddha-fields, names, bodies, and works — these matters of enjoyment are each and all different. Why must the enjoyment body "have differences"? Because it is manifested for the bodhisattvas on the grounds to enjoy the bliss of Dharma, and so differs with realm and with multitude.

The equal, subtle body, joined with the enjoyment body: it should be known that the enjoyment body is the cause of the emanation body.

Ordering the relation of the three bodies one layer more: "equal" refers to the self-nature body (all Buddhas equal and without distinction); "subtle" (this body being hard to know); "the enjoyment body (食身) joined with the equal body" (arising in dependence on the self-nature body); and the enjoyment body is in turn the cause of the emanation body (in accord with the enjoyment desired, it manifests everything, and the emanation body comes forth from this). A single chain of dependent arising: self-nature body (equal) → enjoyment body → emanation body.

The emanation-Buddha's immeasurable emanations — therefore it is named the emanation body; the two bodies and the two benefits accomplished, established in all modes.

Speaking of the "emanation body" alone: the emanation-Buddha at all times emanates immeasurable differing forms, and so it is named the "emanation body." Further pointing out the "two bodies and two benefits": the "two bodies" are the enjoyment body and the emanation body; the "two benefits" are self-benefit and others'-benefit — the enjoyment body has "the accomplishing of self-benefit" for its characteristic, the emanation body has "the accomplishing of others'-benefit" for its characteristic; the two benefits both accomplished in all modes, the two bodies of enjoyment and emanation are accordingly established.

The crafts and the taking of birth, the attaining of the path and the final nirvāṇa — displaying these great skillful means, causing others to attain liberation.

The "others'-benefit" characteristic of the emanation body, spread out to view: the emanation body at all times converts sentient beings, now manifesting crafts (skills and arts), now manifesting the taking of birth, now manifesting the attaining of awakening, now manifesting the final nirvāṇa — displaying all manner of great skillful means, all causing sentient beings to attain liberation. Śākyamuni's manifesting of a whole lifetime (descent to birth, attaining the path, nirvāṇa) is precisely the look of this "emanation body's others'-benefit."

It should be known that the Buddha's three bodies gather in every Buddha-body, the support of self-benefit and others'-benefit — all manifested as the three bodies.

Gathering it in one line: these three bodies gather in every one of all the Buddhas' bodies, for they manifest the support of "self-benefit and others'-benefit" entire — though Buddha-bodies be myriad, they go not beyond these three.

By reason of the basis, the mind, and the work, the three Buddhas are alike equal; by self-nature, by the unbroken, by the continuous, the three Buddhas are alike ever-abiding.

Last, the "equality" and the "ever-abiding" of the three bodies. Equality: by reason of the "basis," the self-nature body is equal (the dharma-realm without distinction); by reason of the "mind," the enjoyment body is equal (the Buddha-mind without distinction); by reason of the "work," the emanation body is equal (one and the same performing). Ever-abiding: by reason of "essential constancy," the self-nature body is ever-abiding (uncontaminated to the very last); by reason of "unbroken constancy," the enjoyment body is ever-abiding (the teaching of Dharma without cease); by reason of "continuous constancy," the emanation body is ever-abiding (though hidden here, it appears again there). The wonder is the "ever-abiding" of the emanation body: the emanation body plainly has arising and ceasing — how too is it "ever-abiding"? — because of "continuous constancy": hidden in this place, it appears again in that, like lamp succeeding lamp, the brightness unbroken. Each of the three bodies has its own "constancy," and joined they make the Buddha's constant presence. This verse weighs heavily with the ancient masters: Taehyŏn, in his Record of Study on the Cheng Weishi Lun, in treating the constancy of the Buddha-body, cites in full "the self-nature the unbroken and the continuous — the three Buddhas alike ever-abiding" as clear proof 〔the Record's citation gives its last two graphs as "in the hall," a variant of transmission〕 — the sense of the Buddha-body's ever-abiding, the ancient masters took this very verse of this chapter for its ground.

11. The Wisdom of the Buddhas: Transforming the Eight Consciousnesses into the Four Wisdoms, Gathering the Four Wisdoms to Furnish the Three Bodies (the Eye of the Whole Chapter)

Having reached this point, the Buddha's body has been expounded, and the prose commentary says: "The bodies of the Buddhas being now expounded, next are expounded the wisdoms of the Buddhas." — this is the very pupil of the eye that Li Baiyao's preface singled out: transforming consciousness into wisdom, the four wisdoms and the three bodies. What the "wisdom" of Buddhahood is, how it is "turned" out of the ordinary being's eight consciousnesses, and how it is matched, in turn, with the three bodies above.

The chapter explicitly says that the eighth, seventh, sixth, and first five consciousnesses are “turned in sequence and attained” as the four wisdoms. This verse does not itself decide that consciousness and wisdom are one identical substance or that the wisdom-nature of the eight consciousnesses is innately complete. The exposition therefore reports the sequence without using ice-and-water or cloud-and-sun images to prove identity or innateness.

〔cross-text borrowed simile〕The Ratnagotravibhāga offers the images of true gold in filth and a gold image wrapped in rags. They may be compared as an account of removing defilement and revealing gold, but they belong to another treatise and are not evidence that this chapter teaches identity of consciousness and wisdom or innate wisdom.

The general statement: the eight consciousnesses turned into the four wisdoms

The four wisdoms — the mirror unmoving — the support of the three wisdoms; the eighth, seventh, sixth, and fifth consciousnesses, being turned in sequence, are attained.

Every Buddha has four kinds of wisdom: first, the mirror wisdom (鏡智, that is, the great perfect mirror wisdom); second, the equality wisdom (平等智, the wisdom of the equal nature); third, the observing wisdom (觀智, the wisdom of wondrous observing); fourth, the accomplishing wisdom (作事智, the wisdom that accomplishes what is to be done).

• "The mirror unmoving, the support of the three wisdoms" — the mirror wisdom has "unmoving" for its characteristic, and ever serves as the support of the other three wisdoms. Why? Because those three wisdoms are "moving" (arising in function in accord with capacities and conditions), while the mirror wisdom is suchness-like and unmoving, the root of the other three.
• “The eighth, seventh, sixth, and first five consciousnesses, being turned in sequence, are attained” — the chapter pairs them in order: turning the eighth store consciousness attains mirror wisdom; turning the seventh manas attains equality wisdom; turning the sixth mind-consciousness attains observing wisdom; turning the first five attains accomplishing wisdom. The exposition reports this pairing without adding that affliction itself is awakening.

The mirror wisdom: turning the eighth consciousness, whence the myriad images appear

The mirror wisdom takes objects without division, continuous and ever unbroken, not deluded as to all that is known, yet the characteristics appear not before it.

This displays "turning the eighth consciousness to attain the mirror wisdom," and expounds line by line its four qualities: it takes objects without division (taking all objects without cutting them into portions, illumining with one even flavour); continuous and ever unbroken (proceeding at all times, never once cut off); not deluded as to all that is known (the obstruction to all objects forever cut, nothing not comprehended); the characteristics appear not before it (it illumines all objects yet departs from coarse manifest characteristic-aspects, illumining without grasping).

The mirror wisdom is the cause of all wisdoms, called the great store of wisdom; the other bodies and the other wisdoms — their images appear arising from this.

This displays the "function" of the mirror wisdom, pointing out its root position among the four wisdoms: the equality wisdom and the rest, all the other wisdoms, have the mirror wisdom in all their modes for their cause, and so the mirror wisdom is like a "great treasure-store" — the myriad virtues come forth from within it. Not the wisdoms only: even the Buddha's "other bodies" (the enjoyment body and the rest) and "other wisdoms" (the equality wisdom and the rest) — their images too arise from within this mirror wisdom. Herein lies the source of the name "mirror wisdom": precisely because the images of the myriad bodies and myriad wisdoms all arise from it, like images in a mirror — manifesting all while its own substance does not move — the Buddha names this wisdom the "mirror wisdom." One may gather all four qualities of the prior verse onto this one mirror: the mirror illumines things without choosing great or small, without cutting them into blocks — this is "taking objects without division"; the mirror is ever bright and unextinguished — this is "continuous and ever unbroken"; the mirror illumines all, every fine hair fully shown — this is "not deluded as to all that is known"; the mirror manifests images yet does not stick to the images, not welcoming the coming image nor detaining the going — this is "the characteristics appear not before it." A single mirror, and the four senses are complete in it.

This virtue of the mirror — "manifesting all while its own substance does not move" — the various scriptures have each their saying of it, that may be read across with this wisdom. The Laṅkāvatāra Scripture says: "As a bright mirror all at once manifests all the imageless form-images" — a single mirror manifests the myriad forms all at once, yet chooses out no sequence and detains no characteristic-aspect, precisely that one flavour of "the characteristics appear not before it" and yet "taking objects without division." The Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna speaks of the mirror-virtue of the "substance of awakening" more finely still, listing it as four mirrors, of which it says the "truly-real, not-empty" mirror: "all the objects of the world manifest within it, neither coming forth nor entering, neither lost nor destroyed, ever abiding as the one mind" — the myriad objects manifest within the mirror, yet the mirror does not "enter" because an image comes, does not "lose" because an image goes, and so the mirror-substance does not turn with the images. That the mirror wisdom is the support of the myriad wisdoms, the "great treasure-store," lies just in these eight graphs, "neither coming forth nor entering, neither lost nor destroyed" — illumining without sticking, manifesting without moving.

The equality wisdom: turning the seventh consciousness, self-grasping turned into great compassion

The wisdom of the equality of sentient beings, cultivated pure, realizing awakening, abiding not in nirvāṇa, because there is no final end.

This displays "turning the seventh consciousness to attain the equality wisdom." The seventh, the manas, is that consciousness which ever grasps the eighth as a "self" — the old nest of self-grasping; turned over, it becomes precisely the wisdom "equal toward all sentient beings." At the very moment when the realization of dharma is present, one attains the wisdom that regards all sentient beings as equal; and cultivating to the utmost purity, one realizes unsurpassed awakening. And "abiding not in nirvāṇa" — because sentient beings are without end, and the work of delivering beings has no terminus; and just because there is no terminus, the Buddha does not abide in nirvāṇa, but ever delivers beings within birth-and-death. Abiding not in nirvāṇa is not that one cannot attain nirvāṇa; it is that the compassionate heart is too great to be willing to rest alone. This one turning may be felt through two images: the manas grasping a "self" is like raising a wall between oneself and others — within the wall is "self," outside the wall is "other"; the wall once torn down, inner and outer become one stretch, and looking again at sentient beings, they are not two from oneself — this is "equality"; with no more partition of inner and outer, sentient beings' joy and pain become as one's own joy and pain, and great compassion wells up of itself, not to be dammed. Again, it is like a loving mother who, though she herself have already climbed to the safe shore, seeing her child still trapped in peril, could by no means rest alone, but must wade in time and again to save it — the Buddha's "abiding not in nirvāṇa" is just such a compassionate heart.

Great loving-kindness and great compassion, these two ever without break; if sentient beings but have faith, the Buddha's image at once appears.

This displays the "function" of the equality wisdom: great loving-kindness and great compassion are ever unbroken, the Buddhas at all times following and guarding sentient beings. "So long as sentient beings but have faith, the Buddha's form appears before them" — the Buddha manifests in accord with what sentient beings have faith in: some see the Tathāgata blue in colour, some see him yellow, each in accord with his faith and answering thereto. Here the prose commentary gathers a line that matters: the foregoing two wisdoms, the mirror wisdom and the equality wisdom, these "prior two wisdoms," are the Dharma-body.

The observing wisdom: turning the sixth consciousness, discrimination turned into wondrous observing

The observing wisdom, as to the known and the cognizer, is at all times without obstruction; this wisdom is like a great store, the support of the dhāraṇīs and samādhis.

This displays "turning the sixth consciousness to attain the observing wisdom." The sixth mind-consciousness is originally the consciousness most given to discriminating and reckoning; turned over, it becomes precisely "wondrous observing" — the force of discrimination is no longer put to false grasping, but becomes unobstructed and skillful observing illumination. The observing wisdom, as to all that is known, all objects, is ever without obstruction, like a great treasure-store, the support of all "dhāraṇī gateways" (総持 — the power to gather and hold in memory all the meanings of the Dharma) and all "samādhi gateways" (all manner of right concentration); because these two classes of gateway both arise from the observing wisdom.

Ever in the great assembly, manifesting all manner of things, able to cut off the nets of doubt, for it rains down the great rain of Dharma.

This displays the "function" of the observing wisdom: the observing wisdom is ever in the great assembly of the Dharma-gathering, manifesting all manner of things, able to cut off entirely sentient beings' nets of doubt and to send down the great rain of Dharma — teaching Dharma and delivering beings, resolving doubt and loosening perplexity, is precisely the office of the wisdom of wondrous observing. The prose commentary gathers another line, matching it to a body: this observing wisdom is the "enjoyment body" (the body of enjoyment).

The accomplishing wisdom: turning the prior five consciousnesses, becoming all manner of transformative works

The accomplishing wisdom, in the various realms, sets in motion all manner of transformative works, immeasurable and inconceivable, for the sake of benefiting the flock of beings.

This displays "turning the prior five consciousnesses to attain the accomplishing wisdom." The prior five consciousnesses are originally the consciousnesses that discriminate the five sense-objects; turned over, they become the wisdom that can, in all worlds, set in motion all manner of transformative works — setting in motion all manner of transformative works, immeasurable and boundless, inconceivable, and all these works are for the sake of benefiting all sentient beings. The prose commentary gathers a line, matching it to a body: this accomplishing wisdom is the "emanation body."

The four wisdoms furnishing the three bodies: gathering the four wisdoms to accomplish the three bodies

Having reached this point, the four wisdoms have each been expounded severally, and along with each wisdom the prose commentary has pointed out the body it accomplishes. Gathering them together is precisely what the preface calls "gathering the four wisdoms to furnish the three bodies": the mirror wisdom and the equality wisdom → the Dharma-body (the prior two wisdoms are the Dharma-body); the observing wisdom → the enjoyment body; the accomplishing wisdom → the emanation body.

Gathering-and-holding, and the even mind; the opening of the Dharma, and the accomplishing of works — thus, by reason of the four senses, the four wisdoms arise in sequence.

The last verse gathers the arising of the four wisdoms into a single sequence, four senses matched to four wisdoms in orderly array: "gathering-and-holding" (the total gathering-in of the Dharma heard — this is the mirror wisdom); "the even mind" (attaining, toward all sentient beings, the equality of self and other — this is the equality wisdom); "the opening of the Dharma" (setting forth the true Dharma, resolving doubt and teaching Dharma — this is the observing wisdom); "the accomplishing of works" (setting in motion all manner of transformative works — this is the accomplishing wisdom) — by reason of these four senses, the four wisdoms arise in sequence. One root (the mirror wisdom) and three functions (equality, observing, accomplishing), gathered into three bodies, and the wisdom and the body of Buddhahood are thereupon complete and whole.

〔exposition-borrowed simile〕For an initial reading, one moon over a thousand rivers may illustrate the relation of “one” and “three”: the single moon figures the Dharma-body, its light the enjoyment body, and its reflections in many waters the emanation body. This is only an expository aid. It is not a simile cited by the treatise and does not independently prove the doctrine of the three bodies; the doctrinal ground remains the verse and prose commentary quoted above.

〔One matter to make plain, left for those minded to inquire deeply: "the four wisdoms matched to the three bodies" — the present treatise, in this chapter, matches them thus (the mirror wisdom and the equality wisdom as the Dharma-body, the observing wisdom as the enjoyment body, the accomplishing wisdom as the emanation body). By the later Cien lineage (Kuiji's Forest of Meanings, the Cheng Weishi Lun), the matching is somewhat different — there it is "the wisdom of the equal nature and the wisdom of wondrous observing as the enjoyment body, the great perfect mirror wisdom as the self-nature body." This is a stretch of shift, within the lineage, in the account of matching the bodies, from the early (the Ornament) to the culmination (the Cheng Weishi Lun). Both accounts the ancient masters transmit together; this exposition expounds according to the present treatise and this chapter, and that difference the 〈Textual Apparatus〉 records side by side without adjudicating — the scholar may inquire for himself.〕

12. The Buddhas Neither One nor Many: Is the Buddha One, or Many

The four wisdoms being expounded, the prose commentary incidentally resolves a question that easily catches one up: is the Buddha, after all, "one" or "many"? — the answer: not one, nor yet many.

Difference of nature, and the not-in-vain, the all and the beginningless too; without distinction, therefore not one; on the same support, therefore not many.

The Buddha is "not one" (not one alone) on the strength of five senses: difference of nature (the natures of the boundless Buddhas are each distinct; were there but one Buddha, there would yet be bodhisattvas "to attain awakening in time to come" — a contradiction); the not-in-vain (were the gathering of merit and wisdom in vain and without real effect, then other bodhisattvas ought not to attain awakening; the two gatherings being not in vain, one may see there is more than one Buddha); the all (were there but one Buddha, that Buddha could not benefit all sentient beings; the Buddha having accomplished all sentient beings' becoming Buddhas, one may see there is more than one); the beginningless (were there but a single first Buddha, he should have become a Buddha without having gathered the two gatherings — which does not hold); without distinction (were there another Buddha who became a Buddha without gathering the two gatherings — which does not hold). The Buddha is "not many" (not a scatter of many substances) on the strength of one sense: the same support — the Dharma-body of all the Buddhas rests upon one and the same uncontaminated realm. In a word: seen from "each Buddha having his own ground of the cause," the Buddhas are more than one; seen from "the Dharma-body resting on one and the same uncontaminated realm," the Buddhas are yet not a set of many unrelated ones. Not one, not many, is precisely the Buddha's true state.

13. The Skillful Means of Entering Buddhahood: How One May Walk into This Fruit of Buddhahood

Buddhahood (body, wisdom, realm) being now clear, the most urgent question comes: how may the ordinary being enter this fruit of Buddhahood? This section gives "the skillful means of entering Buddhahood" — four verses, pressing out, layer by layer, a single road of "non-discrimination."

If discrimination ever is, the real is forever not; if discrimination is forever not, the real ever is.

First it establishes an iron rule of the one waxing as the other wanes: "discrimination" (false reckoning) and "the real" (suchness) are irreconcilably opposed — if discrimination ever abides, the real can never be attained; if discrimination is exhausted, the real is ever present. To enter the fruit of Buddhahood, one must first see clearly: what stands before the real is precisely this "discrimination."

Would one cultivate the supreme cultivation, one sees not any cultivation; would one attain the supreme attainment, one sees not any attainment.

A layer deeper: what is "the supreme cultivation"? — seeing no "cultivation" to be cultivated (the characteristic-less of cultivation); what is "the supreme attainment"? — seeing no "attainment" to be attained (the characteristic-less of attainment). Keep one characteristic of "I am cultivating, I have attained," and one falls into discrimination, and it is no longer the supreme. The supreme cultivation-and-realization is precisely cultivating without a characteristic of cultivation, attaining without a characteristic of attainment.

With reverence and over long time, contemplating the Buddha's never-before-had dharmas, and by reason of this to attain Buddhahood swiftly — this is far from the Buddha's awakening.

The next verse sounds an alarm: there is a bodhisattva who conceives the utmost reverence for the Buddha, and over long time diligently contemplates the Buddha's never-before-had dharmas, yet, by reason of this contemplating mind and this diligence, raises the one thought "I shall swiftly attain unsurpassed awakening" — such a bodhisattva is on the contrary very far from the Buddha's awakening. Why? Because he has "conceit" (a hidden self-conceit of "I shall swiftly attain"). This one line strikes right at the heart of the matter: even a good like "revering the Buddha, diligent over long time," once it carries the self-characteristic of "I shall swiftly attain," becomes an obstruction that puts one far from the Buddha — one may see how hard "discrimination and self-conceit" are to remove.

Contemplating dharmas as only discrimination — this sense, as known before — the bodhisattva without discrimination, of him it is said he swiftly becomes a Buddha.

The last verse gives the right road: if a bodhisattva contemplates "all dharmas as only discrimination" (the sense as known before), and further contemplates "that discriminating mind too as without discrimination," he attains entry into "the position of the forbearance of the unarisen," and by this it is said he attains awakening. A single road: first contemplate dharmas as only discrimination (breaking the grasped-object), then contemplate discrimination too as without discrimination (breaking the grasping-subject); grasped and grasping both dissolved, and this is the right skillful means of "swiftly becoming a Buddha." The prior verse: "would one attain swiftly, one is on the contrary far"; this verse: "without discrimination, one is on the contrary swift" — front and back illumining each other, the whole eye of "the skillful means of entering Buddhahood" lies in these three words, "without discrimination."

14. The Buddhas' Common Deed: Bodhisattvas Are Each Distinct; Once Entered the Buddha-Substance, They Are of One Flavour

Once one has entered the fruit of Buddhahood, what is the relation among the Buddhas? — this section, with an excellent river-and-sea simile, expounds that the Buddhas are "of one substance and function."

It should be known that the various river-waters have their separate supports and separate deeds, the water little, the creatures' enjoyment little, because they have not yet entered the great sea. All having entered the great sea, one support and one deed, the water great, the creatures' enjoyment great, and ever, moreover, without end. So too the various separate understandings, separate intents and separate works, the understanding little, the benefit little, because they have not yet entered the Buddha-substance. All having entered the Buddha-substance, one understanding and one intent, the understanding great, the benefit great, the utmost gathering too without end.

The simile falls into two halves, matched with the utmost neatness: before entering the sea — the rivers each have their own riverbed (separate supports), each perform their own deeds (separate deeds), the water scant, and the creatures within the water enjoying scantly too, because "they have not yet entered the great sea together." The bodhisattvas are likewise: before entering the Buddha-substance, understanding is severally distinct (separate understandings), intent is severally distinct (separate intents), works are severally distinct (separate works), understanding little and benefiting sentient beings little. Once entered the sea — the many waters share one seabed (one support), one sea-substance, the water becomes one, the deeds too become one, the water vast, the water-creatures' enjoyment great, and ever, moreover, without end. The bodhisattvas are likewise: once entered the Buddha-substance together, they share one intent (one intent), one understanding (one understanding), works become one, benefit vast, reaching even to pervade the whole gathering of all sentient beings without end. The wonder is in this "the hundred streams entering the sea are then of one flavour": the Buddhas are not a set of many substances each holding their own quarter; they are, having entered one Buddha-substance together, of "one understanding and one intent" — so the "not many" said earlier has its ground precisely here. The many waters entering the sea are no more parted into this and that; the many bodhisattvas entering the Buddha-substance are of one and the same sea of wisdom.

Conclusion: Urging Toward and Longing to Seek — Such a Fruit of Buddhahood, the Wise Should Go and Seek

At the very last of the chapter, the prose commentary closes with a single verse urging the arousing of the mind of awakening — turning the fruit of Buddhahood, which the foregoing has expounded to the full, into one line: "you too should go and seek it."

The peerless, perfect white dharmas, the cause of sentient beings' benefit and gladness, the blissful abode, the inexhaustible store — the wise should seek and arouse.

Gathering the three faces of the fruit of Buddhahood into three lines: the peerless, perfect white dharmas (the Buddha's accomplishing of self-benefit — the myriad virtues complete, beyond compare); the cause of sentient beings' benefit and gladness (the Buddha's accomplishing of others'-benefit — the root of all sentient beings' benefit and gladness); the blissful abode, the inexhaustible store (the Buddha's roots of good, without fault and unsurpassed, an "inexhaustible store of bliss" not to be drawn dry). And so the last line urges outright: the person of wisdom should arouse the great mind of awakening in order to seek this most excellent fruit of buddhahood. The foregoing chapter discusses the cause, fruit, body, wisdom, realm, and works of buddhahood, and its final "the wise should seek and arouse" closes by exhorting seeking and arousal, not by claiming that the reader already possesses the perfected fruit. "The Awakening Chapter is completed"; its concluding address to the learner is to arouse the mind for the sake of seeking buddhahood.

Conclusion: The Single Thread of the Whole Chapter

Take this chapter joined together, and the Awakening Chapter is a complete picture of Buddhahood, section clasping section:

First it expounds the completeness of cause and fruit (hardship, good, time, and obstruction all exhausted, as the great chest opened and the jewels appearing) → then the Buddha-body free of the two extremes (the white dharmas as body, like a treasury and like a cloud) → then the unsurpassed refuge (saving from the three defilements, surpassing in cause and great, the last place of return for sentient beings) → then the Tathāgata's transformation of the basis (cutting the two obstructions, attaining the two paths, unmoving as the king of mountains; the Buddha-substance pervading sentient beings as space pervades forms, pervading yet unseen as the water-vessel broken and the moon appearing not, coming forth and passing away as the mass of fire) → then the works effortless (the wish-fulfilling jewel and the heavenly drum, accomplished without mind) → then the profundity of the uncontaminated dharma-realm (profound in characteristic, place, and work; the eight works as eight suns; the speaking of it as painting upon space; sentient beings are named the Tathāgata-womb) → then the transformations of the Buddhas (transformation most surpassing, most profound; the eight particular-turning transformations, all resting on the undefiled) → then maturing sentient beings (in sequence, universally, spontaneously, in continuation, without surfeit; as the sun ripening the grains, one lamp lighting the many lamps, the vast sea taking in the streams) → then the purity of the dharma-realm (the four senses of nature, cause, work, and position) → then the three bodies of the Buddhas (Dharma, enjoyment, and emanation, one root and two dependents, equal and ever-abiding) → then the wisdom of the Buddhas (transforming the eight consciousnesses into the four wisdoms, gathering the four wisdoms to furnish the three bodies — this is the eye of the chapter) → then the Buddha neither one nor many (by difference of cause not one, by the same support not many) → then the skillful means of entering Buddhahood (non-discrimination is the swift becoming of a Buddha) → then the Buddhas' common deed (entering the Buddha-substance as the hundred streams enter the sea, of one flavour) → ending in urging toward and longing to seek (the wise should arouse the mind of awakening).

This continues the fruit of transformation of the basis taught at the end of the "five positions" in the Chapter on Reality. The present chapter pairs the eight consciousnesses with the four wisdoms through "the eighth, seventh, sixth, and five consciousnesses are attained in sequence through transformation," and then relates the four wisdoms to the three bodies. The verse does not decide that what precedes and follows is one identical consciousness-substance, and this exposition does not add "their very substance is" as its conclusion. The translation preface calls this "set out in fullness as the scriptures and treatises had never done before" and "heard as never heard, seen as never seen": the chapter lays out buddhahood from cause to fruit, body to wisdom, and realm to works, with the section on transforming consciousness into wisdom and the four wisdoms and three bodies as its particular eye.

The preceding chapter spoke of "what accords with supreme awakening" — awakening (菩提, bodhi) does not arrive out of the blue; it has near-lying causes. The very first of these causes is faith (信). This chapter turns that single word "faith" over and over until it can be seen through: how many faces it wears, how many grades it has, what can block it, how it should be praised; then it uses four vivid similes to point out the faith of four kinds of people; and finally it urges one not to belittle oneself, and sets out the great merit of proclaiming the Great Vehicle together with the three fruits of great faith.

I. Why faith is the first step: faith is like a hand

The treatise opens by marking it: what accords with awakening is "so-called faith." Why does "faith" stand first? It can be felt through an old comparison — faith is like a hand. A person who has hands, walking into a mountain of treasure, can freely carry off the jewels that fill the mountain; one who has no hands, though he stand in the very midst of the treasure-mountain, can only come away empty-handed. The Buddha's teaching is a mountain of treasure, and faith is that pair of hands: with faith, the deep and vast meaning of the Dharma can be taken in and put to use; without faith, the finest teaching set right before you has nothing to do with you. And so a great treatise on the bodhisattva path, having finished with the lofty matters of awakening, the supernormal powers, and maturation, turns back to speak in all earnestness of this one word "faith" — for it is the gate into all of these. The Yogācārabhūmi, in its Bodhisattva Ground, speaks of the bodhisattva's faith to the same effect: faith is what stands first in entering the Great Vehicle.

II. The many faces and grades of faith

Already arisen and not yet arisen, truly received and seemingly received … contemplation and the rest, thirteen — the aspects of faith laid out. Ravishable, intermittent and unbroken, much and also little … again these thirteen meanings — the kinds of faith laid out.

In one breath the treatise lists two sets of thirteen kinds of faith each. At first glance the density is daunting, but it is really just seeing the single matter of "faith" clearly from two angles. Before counting its faces, though, we must first recognize what this "faith" actually is. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 The Cheng Weishi Lun, discerning "faith" as a wholesome mental factor, says its nature is "the purifying of the mind," and gives an excellent comparison: faith is like a water-clearing gem dropped into muddy water — it can settle the turbid water clear. The mind is by itself turbid (stirred into a muddy blur by anger, greed, and doubt, so that not even the shadow of the Dharma's meaning can be reflected in it); the moment faith arises, this pool of muddy water settles and turns clear. Conversely, "lack of faith" is itself turbid, and further stirs up the neighboring mind and mental factors along with it. So the many kinds of faith to be counted below are all really this one same "mind-clearing gem" at work in different places and at different depths. Recognize this, and the two sets of thirteen are no longer mere names but the various guises of one same thing.

The first angle is faith's faces (the aspects of faith, 信相): there is faith already arisen in the past, and faith not yet arisen in the future; faith truly received within, and faith seemingly received on the surface; faith raised up through another's strength (drawn up by the power of a good friend), and faith arisen through one's own strength; distorted, faulty faith and undistorted, good faith; faith present with nothing blocking it, and faith held far off because obstructed; and faith arising from the three sources of "hearing, reflecting, and cultivating" — the faith of hearing the Dharma, the faith of seeking the meaning, the faith of contemplation. Faith is no vague single word; it wears this many faces — which the practitioner may hold up as a mirror: this measure of faith of mine, is it truly received or only seemingly so? Does it stand by another's propping, or can it stand on its own?

The second angle is faith's grades (the kinds of faith, 信種): there is the lower-grade faith that can be ravished away, the middling faith that comes and goes by fits, and the upper-grade faith that is unbroken; there is the "much faith" of the Great Vehicle and the "little faith" of the Lesser Vehicle; there is "covered" faith that is obstructed and cannot advance, and "uncovered" faith that is unobstructed and can advance; there is the "corresponding" faith practiced with constant reverence, and the "non-corresponding" faith that is slack; there is the "gathering" faith able to bind up the fruit of great awakening, and the "non-gathering" faith unable to do so; and finally two that deepen with one's station — the "faith of deep entry" from the first ground to the seventh, and the "faith of far entry" from the eighth ground to the buddha-ground. Among these, the faith raised up through another's strength has a certain firm virtue called "the pure faith that cannot be broken" — the indestructible clear faith: once it has gone deep through a friend's power, it is no longer shaken by doubt or by the false. And the faith that gathers several of these good marks into one body — uncovered, corresponding, gathering, deep-entering, and far-entering — this faith, which belongs to one's own station and can rise straight upward in due order, the treatise specially praises, calling it "the faith of one's own portion" (自分信), and grants it the name of "swift penetration" (速通): because it is unobstructed and unmixed, continuous and corresponding, it can penetrate swiftly along the path without going the long way round. These last two are the most worth savoring: faith is not a thing settled once and then done with; it deepens layer by layer as realization proceeds — like the light of heaven turning from the first faint glimmer of daybreak all the way to the great brightness of high noon. This day's measure of shallow faith is precisely the starting point of the deep faith to come.

III. What blocks faith

Much forgetting and also sloth, deluded conduct together with bad friends … know that these faults obstruct the aspects of faith. Not wearied and not practiced, wearied and also covered … know that these obstruct the kinds of faith.

Where there is faith, there are things that obstruct faith. The treatise names the various faults one by one, and points out which kind of faith each blocks: much forgetting blocks the faith already arisen; sloth blocks the faith not yet arisen; heedlessness blocks the faith present now; scant hearing blocks the faith of hearing the Dharma; contentment with hearing (delight in hearing) blocks the faith of seeking the meaning; contentment with reflecting and the arising of overweening pride (taking oneself to have realized) block the faith of contemplation … and there are bad friends who mislead with distorted teachings, and feeble wholesome roots that cannot prop up the faith of one's own strength. This passage is a mirror that shows up the demons: faith fails to grow, more often than not, not because there is no seed, but because it is smothered under these weeds. To nourish faith, one must first recognize these faults that block the road, and pull them out one by one.

Having spoken of the "obstruction," the treatise at once turns it over into "praise": having pulled the weeds, one must still know the good shoots. Each of the many kinds of faith counted above has its own virtue, and so each is praised for its own virtue — this passage picks out, one by one, the precious point of each kind of faith and extols it. The one most highly esteemed is precisely that "faith of one's own portion" spoken of above: because it is uncovered, corresponding, gathering, and can enter deep and far, its several virtues gathered into one body, the treatise praises it as "swift penetration" — the fastest and most direct of all the kinds of faith. First the "obstruction" shows up the faults to be pulled out, then the "praise" marks out the virtues to be longed for: pulling out and setting up, so that the practitioner knows which way to nourish his faith.

IV. The faith of four kinds of people: dog, turtle, slave, king

The dog, turtle, slave, and king similes — in order they figure four faiths: practicing desire, practicing the various concentrations, benefiting oneself, benefiting others.

The treatise next uses four exceedingly vivid comparisons (these are the treatise's own four similes) to set the faith of four kinds of people side by side, so that high and low are plain at a glance:

• A starving dog seeking food, never satisfied — this figures the faith of "the person who practices desire": at all times seeking in every sort of way, mixed and greedy, choosing neither the fine nor the coarse.
• A blind turtle in the water drawing in its six (its four limbs, head, and tail) — this figures the faith of "the person who practices outer concentrations": knowing only to shrink back into worldly meditative absorption, closed and narrow, unwilling to come out and press toward what is higher.
• A thieving slave who works hard for fear of his master — this figures the faith of "the person who benefits himself": only because he dreads birth-and-death does he diligently cultivate the means, pressed to it, and for his own sake.
• A great king freely issuing decrees — this figures the faith of "the person who benefits others": furthering the transformative teaching without ever resting, vast, and for others' sake.

Laid out in a row, the four similes rise in stature one over the next — from "greedy and mixed," to "closed and narrow," to "for oneself," to "for others." The highest faith is the faith of the "great king" — free, unresting, wholly for the benefit of others. The bodhisattva, having himself thoroughly understood these various kinds of faith, further sets them out at large for sentient beings, urging them to give rise to this highest faith of the Great Vehicle.

V. Do not belittle yourself: the three causes are without limit

The human body and the place, the time — all are without limit; awakening is attained through three causes — give rise to no lowly mind.

Speaking of faith, some are bound to grumble: "Buddhahood is so lofty and far off; a person like me — can I really do it?" It is just this "lowly mind" (the self-belittling that shrinks back) that the treatise means to break. It points out that the attainment of supreme awakening has "three causes without limit": the human body is without limit (those who attain awakening among human beings are beyond measure and beyond number), the place is without limit (those who attain it throughout the worlds of the ten directions are beyond measure and beyond number), and the time is without limit (those who attain it to the very end of the future, moment after moment, are beyond measure and beyond number). In other words: it can be felt through a great highway — this road to buddhahood has been walked by countless people from of old, is being walked at this very moment by countless people throughout the ten directions, and will be walked in the future by countless more. The road has been walked clear by so many; why then doubt that your own feet cannot walk it? With these three limitless causes as a foundation beneath him, the bodhisattva should not flinch from supreme awakening, and should not belittle himself.

VI. The merit of proclaiming the Great Vehicle, and the three fruits of great faith

Merit is gained by giving to others, not by consuming for oneself; relying on others one proclaims the Great Vehicle, not relying on the teaching of one's own meaning.

The treatise points out, along the way, a principle about "merit": to give food to another can gain great merit — because it benefits others; to consume it oneself cannot gain such great merit — because it benefits only oneself. In the same way, the reason the bodhisattva gains great merit lies in "proclaiming the Great Vehicle for the sake of others," not in "expounding the teaching for the sake of one's own meaning (the Lesser Vehicle)." This is still the same single heart carried right through the earlier chapters on "the twofold benefit" and "maturation": merit is what grows within "giving out, for the sake of others," just as a lamp shows its light most when it is lighting others.

From the great teaching arises great faith; the fruits of great faith are three: the increase of faith and the increase of merit, and gaining the very body of buddha-qualities.

Finally it speaks of the fruit of "great faith." A person of wisdom, giving rise to great faith in the noble teaching of the Great Vehicle, will find that this great faith binds up three fruits: the increase of faith (faith itself grows without ceasing), the increase of merit (merit grows without ceasing along with it), and the very body of buddha-qualities (finally accomplishing the peerless buddha-qualities and the vast buddha-body — that is, great awakening). Return to that comparison of "faith is like a hand": once this pair of hands reaches into the treasure-mountain of the Dharma, the jewels taken up generate yet more jewels — faith gives rise to faith, merit to merit, mounting up in turn, until one has carried off the entire holdings of the buddha-ground. Great faith is no stagnant pool of "I believe already," but a living seed that will grow of itself and, in the end, grow into the fruit of buddhahood.

Conclusion: all begins with faith

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on Elucidating Faith speaks of just one word, "faith": it is the hand by which one enters the path (the near cause of awakening); it wears its myriad faces (the thirteen aspects) and has its grades (the thirteen kinds, deepening with the grounds); it can be blocked by every sort of fault (the weeds must be pulled); it distinguishes the high and low of four kinds of people (the four similes of dog · turtle · slave · king); the practitioner is not to belittle himself because the goal is lofty (the three causes are without limit, the road already walked clear by countless others); and to proclaim the Great Vehicle gains great merit, while great faith finally binds up the three fruits of buddha-qualities.

To close in a phrase: all begins with "faith." Faith is like a hand — first put out this pair of hands, and the treasures that fill the mountain can be taken in; and this pair of hands grows more deft the more it is used, gripping ever deeper, from this day's measure of shallow faith all the way to the buddha-ground.

This is a substantial chapter spanning scrolls four and five. This exposition follows its major sequence and opens the important joints along the long road of "seeking."

The "seeking" of "seeking the Dharma" (述求) is inquiry, the searching-out of the mind. The chapter lays out one long road of "seeking": first the Dharma (the three baskets) and the condition, knowledge, and attention of contemplative practice; then the true meaning and a set of "illusion-similes"; then consciousness-only, the marks, and the transformation of the basis; then liberation, the absence of self-substance, and the forbearance of non-arising, the harmonization of the one vehicle with the three, and finally the fields of knowledge, the nurture of wholesome roots (the forty-four attentions), and the various distinctions, causes, leaving-behind of discrimination, and greatness of the Dharma. This exposition follows that major route stretch by stretch.

I. First seeking the "Dharma": what the three baskets are, why they are three, and what their common use is

To set out on the road one must first have "materials." The materials are the Dharma — and where the Dharma is gathered is called a "basket" (藏, treasury). The first thing the treatise does in opening the chapter is to make plain the object of seeking the Dharma — the three baskets.

First, "why they are called baskets, why they are three, and why they may be gathered into two." The three baskets are the sūtra (修多羅, the discourses), the vinaya (毘尼, the discipline), and the abhidharma (阿毘曇, the treatises). Why are they all called "baskets"? Because "basket" means "to gather" (攝) — it gathers up the whole of what "ought to be known," like a storehouse that holds all things without exception; hence "basket." Why are they "three"? The treatise gives nine reasons, to be seen in three sets, each set deeper than the last:

• In terms of "counteraction": the sūtra is set up to counteract "doubt" — where a person raises doubts at every turn about the meaning, the sūtra brings him to certainty; the vinaya is set up to counteract "the two extremes in enjoyment" — barring the faulted indulgence in pleasure (the extreme of pleasure-practice) and permitting the faultless use of things (the extreme of pain-practice); the abhidharma is set up to counteract "the grasping of one's own views" — it can reveal the marks of dharmas without distortion.
• In terms of "the three trainings": the sūtra is set up to expound the whole body of the three trainings, discipline, concentration, and wisdom; the vinaya is set up to accomplish the training in discipline and the training in mind — for by keeping the precepts one has no regret, and having no regret one gradually attains concentration; the abhidharma is set up to accomplish the training in wisdom — for it can select out, without distortion, the meaning.
• In terms of "Dharma and meaning": the sūtra is set up to "rightly state" the Dharma and its meaning; the vinaya is set up to "accomplish" the Dharma and its meaning (for by diligent practice of skillful means the afflictions are extinguished); the abhidharma is set up to "penetrate" the Dharma and its meaning (with all kinds of selecting-out as its skillful means).

The three sets of nine reasons round off "why the three baskets cannot but be three." And "or gathered into two" means: these three baskets, by the difference of the lower and higher vehicles, may be gathered into two kinds — the śrāvaka basket and the bodhisattva basket — the one same body of Dharma, divided into great and small by the capacity of the listener.

Next, the "common use" of the three baskets. Their separate uses stated, the treatise asks a point that matters: what, then, is their use taken together? The answer is clean — "liberation from birth-and-death." How does one gain liberation? Through four labors: hearing-and-perfuming (perfuming the Dharma into the field of mind), thinking-and-awakening (awakening through reflection), stilling-and-quieting (quieting through the cultivation of tranquillity), and contemplating-and-penetrating (penetrating through the cultivation of insight). Once these four — hearing, thinking, stilling, contemplating — are turned through, all the affairs of birth-and-death are forever released. This one sentence sets the key for the whole chapter: seeking the Dharma is not for memorization, but in the end for release from birth-and-death.

II. Each of the three baskets has "four senses": the inner framework of sūtra, treatise, and vinaya

Having set up the three baskets, the treatise goes one layer finer: each basket has its "four senses." Why teach these four senses? Because "if a bodhisattva penetrates these four senses, he accomplishes the all-kinds-of-knowledge (一切種智, omniscience); if a śrāvaka fully comprehends a single verse, he attains the eternal exhaustion of the outflows" — the four senses are the key that opens the inside of the three baskets. This exposition describes the four senses of each basket in sequence.

The four senses of the sūtra (修多羅): support, mark, dharma, and meaning.

• Support — the sūtra is spoken in dependence on three things: place, person, and use. Only in dependence on a given land, a given Buddha, and a given kind of sentient beings does the Tathāgata speak forth a sūtra. A sūtra is not stated groundless in the air; it issues in response to time, place, and person.
• Mark — the marks the sūtra conveys are twofold: the mark of conventional truth (the worldly, phenomenal marks) and the mark of the ultimate truth (the highest reality).
• Dharma — the dharmas the sūtra speaks of are the aggregates, the elements, the sense-fields, dependent origination, the truths, the nutriments, and so on.
• Meaning — the sūtra must "explain the wherefore," bringing out the reason why things are so.

The four senses of the abhidharma (阿毘曇): facing, enumerating, subduing, and resolving.

• Facing — the abhidharma is the dharma of "heading toward nirvāṇa," made up of teachings on the truths, the factors of awakening, the gates of liberation, and so on ("facing" being to face nirvāṇa, to head toward nirvāṇa).
• Enumerating — the abhidharma is the dharma of "continuity," which, for each single dharma, enumerates and distinguishes it without measure through such distinctions as "form / non-form," "visible / invisible."
• Subduing — the abhidharma is the "supreme" dharma, which in the great assembly of debate settles the meaning of the Dharma and makes the opponent yield ("subduing" being the subduing of divergent views).
• Resolving — the abhidharma is the dharma of "explaining the meaning"; by means of the abhidharma the meaning within the sūtras becomes easy to comprehend. The proper task of the abhidharma is to serve as a footnote to the sūtra, opening its hard passes.

The vinaya (毘尼) has two sets of four senses. The vinaya is the finest-grained, and the treatise gives two sets of four senses.

• The first four senses: offence, arising, purification, and emergence — these are the complete links of "one precept, from its breaking to its recovered purity." Offence is the self-nature of the offence (the five heaps of offences); arising is the conditioned arising of the offence, of four kinds: ignorance, heedlessness, the violence of the afflictions, and the absence of a reverent mind — the breaking of a precept never departs from these four roots; purification is the recovered purity of the offence — which rests on a "wholesome mind," not on "punishment," and this one point is most worth savoring: the vinaya comes home to the purifying of the mind, not to chastisement; emergence is the emergence-from the offence, of seven kinds (confession, according with the teaching, permission, further relinquishing, transformation of the basis, contemplation of the real, and attainment by nature) — from the first disclosing and confession all the way up to the point where, on seeing the truths, the subtle offences of themselves have no substance and, by the realization of the emptiness of dharmas, are naturally pure. The highest step of emerging from offence already reaches up onto the standpoint of "the emptiness of dharmas."
• The second four senses: person, enacting, resolving, and judging — these are the links of "how a precept comes to be enacted." Person is the person who commits the offence; enacting is the great master (the Buddha), in dependence on that offender, gathering the assembly, stating the fault, and enacting a training-rule; resolving is the drawing-out at length of what has been enacted; judging is the judgment of how one incurs the offence and how one does not. The vinaya is not a set of clauses come down from heaven; it is a rule enacted one by one, according to circumstance, in response to the actual conditions of an offence.

The section on seeking the Dharma closes here. Below, from the "material" that is the Dharma we turn to the "tool" that is contemplative practice — first seeking the condition.

III. Seeking the "condition" of contemplative practice: the object is inner, outer, and both — yet the two graspings are in the end not to be found

With the materials ready, to set to work at contemplation one must first have an "object of contemplation" (所緣) — the realm the mind faces. This section asks: when the bodhisattva cultivates contemplation, what should he take as object?

The treatise says the Buddha taught that all dharmas that serve as "object" fall into no more than three: inner (the body and so on on the grasping side), outer (the body and so on on the grasped side), and both (grasper and grasped taken as one). Yet no sooner has this "inner-and-outer" been set up than the treatise at once presses it deeper: with respect to these inner and outer objects, one must realize their "sense of non-duality" — the grasped and the grasping are to be contemplated "as not separate"; joining the two into one, one gains "suchness" with respect to the inner and outer objects. Once one has realized that grasper and grasped are originally not-two, then even these "two objects" themselves are not to be found — the opposition once dissolved, the two poles within the opposition cannot stand.

This is exactly the opening move of Consciousness-Only contemplation: inner and outer are set up in order to be broken. The object is divided into inner and outer only as a skillful bridge for cultivating contemplation; once one truly reaches the non-duality of grasper and grasped, the bridge is of no further use. In the later "seeking consciousness-only" and "seeking liberation" the text returns to this step again and again; here the seed is first sown.

IV. Seeking "knowledge": three conditions give rise to three wisdoms — one contemplative road of "meaning is only mind-speech → only name"

With the object in hand, one asks further: how, from this object, is the contemplating "knowledge" to be brought forth? The treatise answers: in dependence on the aforesaid inner, outer, and both — the three conditions — one cultivates the three wisdoms of hearing, thinking, and cultivating — and these three steps are just such a contemplative road, from the shallow into the deep:

• Purely holding the realm of mind-speech, one attains the wisdom of hearing — "mind-speech" (意言) is the inner mind's concept-and-word, its discrimination. "Purely" is faith-and-certainty; "holding" is the selecting-out of its seeds. First, upon the object, one holds fast with faith-certainty that "all this is nothing but mind-speech," and attains the wisdom of hearing.
• Discerning the light of meaning, one attains the wisdom of thinking — advancing further, one knows that the "meaning" one faces, the "light (image)" that appears, are not other than mind-speech. Seeing through that meaning and light are originally what mind-speech has transformed into, one attains the wisdom of thinking.
• Settling the mind in "only name," one attains the wisdom of cultivating — advancing yet further, one abides in "all this is only name" — meaning and light alike, in the end, are only a name-and-word set up. The mind settled here, one attains the wisdom of cultivating.

The three steps draw in tighter one after another: from "this is mind-speech," to "meaning and light are not other than mind-speech," to "there is only name." And because, as was said above, "the two objects are not to be found" — it is precisely because grasper and grasped are originally empty that these three conditions can serve as the support for the three wisdoms. This section brings the "non-duality of grasper and grasped" of the third section down onto actual practice: the three wisdoms of hearing, thinking, and cultivating are just the step-by-step drawing back of "supposing one is cognizing an outer realm" into "it is only mind-speech, only name."

This point — "the realm one faces is in fact only the shadow of one's own mind" — is the most abstract; it may be felt through a nearby simile from the Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra's Chapter on the Analysis of Yoga — that very sūtra being the one the Bodhisattva Maitreya requested, of the same transmission as this treatise. The sūtra says: "It is as when, in dependence on a well-polished, clear mirror-surface, taking one's own substance as condition, one still sees one's own substance, and yet says 'I now see an image,' and says that apart from the substance there is a separately-operating image appearing." Facing a mirror ground clear and bright, one is in fact taking one's own substance as condition, and what one beholds is still one's own substance; yet the person mistakenly supposes "what I see at this moment is an image," and mistakenly supposes "apart from the substance, there is separately an image now appearing there." The mind's taking-of-a-realm-as-object is exactly so: the realm is fundamentally the shadow that the mind manifests, and to cognize the realm is to cognize the shadow of one's own mind; but sentient beings, "unable to know as it truly is that it is only consciousness," wrongly suppose there is a realm set up outside the mind. In the mirror there was never a second thing; the realm one faces has no substance outside the mind either — clear on this one simile, the three steps of "purely holding mind-speech, discerning the light of meaning, settling the mind in only name" come down to solid ground. (Saṃdhinirmocana Sūtra, Chapter on the Analysis of Yoga, Chinese T16n0676.)

V. Seeking "attention": eighteen ways of "applying the mind," tuning the tools of contemplation

Condition and knowledge in hand, one still needs "attention" (作意) — the reasoned rousing of mind, the concentration. Attention is where contemplative practice truly "applies the mind": with one and the same object, if the mind is applied wrongly the effort passes empty, if the mind is applied by reason it becomes potent. The treatise sets out eighteen kinds of attention, and this exposition points out the focus of each in turn, not one omitted:

one, lineage (roused in dependence on the settled lineage of the three vehicles); two, the accomplished (roused in dependence on the fulfillment of the two stores of merit and wisdom); three, support (in dependence on the difference of whether, as householder or as one gone forth, one is beset by pressure); four, settled faith (from according with the recollection of the Buddha); five, the arising of aspiration (faith answering in accord as one recollects the Buddha); six, relying on concentration (from according with the three samādhis); seven, relying on knowledge (arising in sequence from hearing, thinking, and cultivating); eight, the particular condition (the five acts of receiving, holding, reading, thinking, and expounding, done upon the sūtras); nine, the various conditions (taking as condition the seven: name, phrase, syllable, the no-self of persons, the no-self of dharmas, form, and the formless); ten, penetration (penetrating the four with respect to suffering: its thing, its meaning, its fruit, and its awakening); eleven, the kinds of cultivation (this the broadest, containing the four cultivations and the cultivation of the thirty-seven factors of awakening — the four foundations of mindfulness, the four right exertions, the four bases of spiritual power, the five faculties, the five powers, the seven factors of awakening, and the eightfold noble path, each with its own obstacle counteracted and its own quality accomplished); twelve, self-nature (tranquillity and insight, which are the self-nature of the path); thirteen, effort (the uprooting of the latent impressions, and the uprooting of the two forces of grasped-mark and grasper); fourteen, receiving (receiving and holding the stream of Dharma taught by the Buddhas and bodhisattvas); fifteen, skillful means (in concentration there are the five skillful means of understanding number, understanding equipment, understanding discrimination, understanding sequence, and understanding penetration — of which "understanding penetration" opens into a further eleven gates, from penetrating the adventitious defilements all the way to penetrating the dharmas established); sixteen, mastery (the three purities: the purity of the afflictive obstruction, the purity of the two obstructions — afflictive and cognitive, and the purity of qualities); seventeen, the small (indicating the first of the purities); eighteen, the great (indicating the latter two purities).

The eighteen attentions are like a complete set of tools: some turn the mind toward the path (lineage, support), some settle faith (settled faith, the arising of aspiration), some enter concentration and issue in wisdom (relying on concentration, relying on knowledge, self-nature), some broadly gather the factors of the path (the kinds of cultivation), some finely treat the name-and-word (skillful means), and finally the three purities (mastery, the small, the great) round it off. The bodhisattva's contemplative practice is not a single undivided exertion; it is thus sorted into departments, each with its own object counteracted, and so "tuned" out. With the tools tuned, we come below to the peak of the whole chapter — seeking the true meaning.

VI. Seeking the true meaning (the chapter's peak): the three natures are all "real," and the rope-and-snake simile

At "seeking the true meaning" we reach the peak of the whole chapter. The treatise opens with a sentence that matters: the three natures are all "real" — only each is spoken of from its own angle. This is hard to hear at first, but it may be felt through that old comparison, "seeing a rope as a snake in the dark":

• In the dark of night one takes a rope for a snake — this "snake" was never there at all; the "I" that could fear it and the "snake" that is feared are both mistaken cognition. This figures the reality of the wholly-imagined nature (分別性; 玄奘系 遍計所執性, the falsely wholly-imagined): its reality lies precisely in that "grasper and grasped are ultimately absent" (free of the two).
• Yet that "rope" is really lying there, and the snake-illusion arises just in dependence on it. This figures the reality of the other-dependent nature (依他性; 依他起性, what arises through conditions): its reality lies in that "only in dependence on it do the various discriminations arise" (the deluded support).
• Look more thoroughly still: the rope too is nothing but hemp, is causes-and-conditions, and at bottom is that inexpressible ground of the real. This figures the reality of the true nature (真實性; 圓成實性, the perfectly-accomplished reality): its reality lies in that "its self-nature is free of conceptual elaboration and cannot be spoken" (without saying, without elaboration).

One rope, one bout of mistaken cognition, and the three natures are strung onto a single string: the mistakenly-cognized snake (wholly-imagined), the rope depended on (other-dependent), and the ultimate hemp (true) — all three layers are "real," it only depends on which layer you speak from.

The treatise next fits these three natures with "three responses" — three labors that should be undertaken: toward the first reality (the wholly-imagined nature), one should know (know it to be originally empty); toward the second reality (the other-dependent nature), one should sever (sever its deluded arising); toward the third reality (the true nature), one should purify (bring forth its intrinsic purity).

And this "purity" of the real is of two kinds: intrinsic purity (pure from the very first) and stainless purity (the purity after the adventitious has been wiped away). The treatise uses "empty space, gold, and water" as three figures: empty space, true gold, and clear water are all pure by nature — this figures intrinsic purity; even when dust settles it is only adventitious dust, and wiping it away restores the original purity — this figures stainless purity. One side says it was pure to begin with; the other says that even when soiled it can be restored to purity; only holding the two sides together does one avoid mistaking "purity" for something newly added. Nothing is added — it is restoring the original.

VII. The dharma-realm and the world have never differed in the least: the sickness of sentient beings is "clinging to the non-existent and discarding the existent"

Having established that the three natures are all real, the treatise adds a pivotal sentence: the dharma-realm and the world have never differed in the least. Why? Because the dharma-nature and the dharmas are originally without difference — the real is not somewhere else, outside the world.

Then where do sentient beings go wrong? They go wrong in "clinging to the non-existent and discarding the existent": toward "the worldly dharmas that are without self-nature," which ought not to be grasped, they perversely give rise to grasping (seizing the self-natureless as if it were really existent); toward "the dharma that is truly-thus and really existent," which ought not to be discarded, they perversely add discarding (throwing away the real as if it were non-existent). One seizing, one throwing — both poles distorted. This sentence sets up the target for the whole set of "illusion-similes" below: what the illusion-similes cure is exactly this sickness of "clinging to the non-existent, discarding the existent" — teaching one not to seize the real amid the illusory, and not to negate amid the real.

VIII. The similes of reality: one "illusion," to see clearly consciousness-only-without-realm

Following on the three natures, the treatise uses a whole set of "illusion-similes" to teach that thing which is the Consciousness-Only school's own business — "consciousness-only-without-realm." This set of verses is the most numerous, and the most abstruse; this exposition uses the "elephant" that a conjuror (an illusion-worker) conjures up to open each layer one by one:

First layer: the elephant "exists yet is not existent." You see that elephant (it appears fully-formed there on the stage) — this is "exists" (existent because it appears); yet it has no real substance (it is only what spell, wood, and stone have transformed into) — this is "not existent" (its real substance is not to be found). The elephant "has substance which is just no-substance; the no-substance and the substance are not-two" — this is just the actual condition of the marks of the other-dependent and the wholly-imagined.

Second layer: by the two sides of the illusory elephant, one penetrates each to a truth. Its side of "having no real substance" figures that the two marks of other-dependent and wholly-imagined discrimination likewise have no real substance, whereby one penetrates the ultimate truth (the supreme); its side of "having a visible substance" figures that false discrimination too has appearing, whereby one penetrates the conventional truth (the worldly). One dharma, two sides, each seeing one truth — this cures the sickness of "clinging to the non-existent, discarding the existent" of the seventh section.

Third layer: comprehending that the illusion has no substance is, in the treatise's account, to attain the real realm and the transformation of the basis. If a person comprehends that the illusory affair has no substance, that person sees the true realm of the wood and stone; the treatise further says that when a bodhisattva comprehends that grasper and grasped, the "two delusions," have no substance and attains the transformation of the basis, the meaning of the true nature is attained. Though wood and stone have no substance, they can serve as causes of delusion; while the other-dependent has not been transformed it can serve as a cause of distortion, whereas after transformation there are "mastery of the basis" and "mastery of practice." This passage distinguishes functions before and after transformation; it does not here adjudicate that the two must be one identical substance.

Fourth layer: repeatedly restating "exists yet not-existent, not-existent yet exists." The treatise, in a run of several verses, from "this thing is present there, and that present thing too has no substance" (exists yet not-existent), to "the no-substance is not no-substance, and the not-no-substance is just substance" (not-existent yet exists), turns over and over the point that "form and the rest have substance which is just no-substance, and the no-substance and the substance are not-two." Why belabor it so? Because this is exactly the pass where one most easily slips to either side — say "exists" and one fears people will grasp it as real, say "non-existent" and one fears they will negate it into emptiness; so one can only hold down both sides at once, pressing out that middle-way actuality of "exists yet not-existent, not-existent yet exists."

IX. Blocking the three extremes: not grasping the existent, not grasping the non-existent, not fleeing into cessation

At this point someone will ask: why, of "substance" and "no-substance," not simply state one side definitively, but instead insist that the two are not separate? The treatise answers clearly: it is precisely to block three biased extremes that one cannot state it one-sidedly and definitively. This exposition marks out this middle way of "blocking the three extremes," teaching side by side:

• Blocking the "extreme of existence" — because one knows it has no substance, one should not posit it as really "existent" (grasping the real is superimposition).
• Blocking the "extreme of non-existence" — because one knows it has appearing in the conventional truth, one should not disparage it as annihilated "non-existent" (negating is diminishment, and it wrecks the conventional truth).
• Blocking "heading toward the cessation of the small vehicle" — because the two dharmas of defilement and purity are originally without difference, one should not weary of and turn from this substance, hiding away in the cessation of the small vehicle (fleeing is faintheartedness).

One illusory elephant, and the whole measure of Consciousness-Only is seen clearly: the realm is what the light of mind manifests, seeming to exist yet without real substance; toward this one does not grasp the existent, does not grasp the non-existent, does not flee into cessation — this is the middle way.

The treatise next uses two pairs of similes to enact "grasper and grasped alike dissolved" once more: form-consciousness and consciousness-consciousness — the deluded realm (form-consciousness) is the cause of delusion, the deluding substance (consciousness-consciousness) is the substance of delusion; the cause (form-consciousness) once absent, the fruit (consciousness-consciousness) is absent too, and the grasping consciousness falls together with the grasped realm. The illusory image and the grasping of bone — the deluded person, with respect to "the illusory image and the grasping of the illusory," speaks, out of delusion, of the two affairs of grasper and grasped; the practitioner of contemplation, with respect to "the bone-image and the grasping of bone" (the contemplation of the white skeleton), speaks, out of contemplation, of the two affairs of contemplator and contemplated — but in fact both are absent, appearing only through delusion or through contemplation. One deluded, one contemplating, the same principle: grasper and grasped are shadows produced by opposition, not things each really existent.

X. The counteracting and the counteracted are both like an illusion: the strong illusion-king makes the other illusion-kings retreat

Since grasper and grasped are both like an illusion, the treatise presses the crucial question: then what are "the counteracted (the defilement to be severed)" and "the counteracting (the purity used to sever it)"? And what difference is there between them?

• The substance of the counteracted is just "the mark of dharma-delusion" — the mark that false discrimination brings forth; it is said to exist (through false discrimination) and said to be not-existent (because the two substances of grasper and grasped are not different from no-substance), and so "its existence too is like an illusion, its non-existence too is like an illusion."
• The substance of the counteracting is just the dharmas of the foundations of mindfulness and the rest (the counteractive dharmas the Buddha taught) — its substance "too is like an illusion": to the grasping of the ordinary person it seems to have substance, in what the Buddhas teach it has no substance; and even the Buddha's manifesting of entering the womb, being born, going forth, and accomplishing the way — such "appearing in light without a real mark" — is likewise like an illusion.

Then the question grows sharp: if the counteracting and the counteracted are alike like an illusion, on what ground does the one counteract and the other get counteracted? The treatise's answer is the finest simile of the chapter: "It is like a strong illusion-king making the other illusion-kings retreat" — as a stronger illusion-king can make the remaining illusion-kings retreat. The pure dharma is like the strong illusion-king (gaining ascendancy in counteracting the defiled dharma); the defiled dharma is like the remaining illusion-kings (gaining ascendancy over the realm of objects); the bodhisattva, knowing dharmas to be like an illusion, then counteracts the defiled dharma with the pure dharma, and the task done, still knows that both are illusion, so that not even the conceit of "I have the merit of counteracting" arises. This simile points home the bodhisattva's application of mind: "cultivating illusion with illusion, cultivating yet not grasping."

Finally the treatise gathers a set of "eight similes" — the illusion, dream, mirage, reflection, shadow, echo, moon-in-water, and conjured-form that the World-Honored One teaches everywhere, each figuring one class of dharma of practice: the illusion figures the six inner sense-fields; the dream figures the six outer sense-fields; the mirage figures the mind and mental factors; the reflection figures the six inner sense-fields (the reflection of past karma); the shadow figures the six outer sense-fields (the shadow of the inner fields); the echo figures the Dharma that is taught; the moon-in-water figures the dharmas relying on concentration (concentration like water, the Dharma like the moon, showing forth when clear and still); the conjured-form figures the bodhisattva's deliberate taking of birth (undefiled by what is done).

Among these eight similes, the line "the mirage figures the mind and mental factors, through the arising of delusion" is the most hidden — how can "mirage" figure the mind and mental factors? The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, explaining the Prajñāpāramitā's simile "like a flame," puts it close to home: "A flame — because sunlight and wind stir up the dust, in the wilderness it is seen like wild horses, and the person without wisdom, seeing it at first, calls it water." It also says: "If from afar one sees the flame, one takes it for water; drawing near, there is no notion of water." In the wilderness the sunlight steams and stirs the dust, and from afar it looks like a stretch of water (what was of old called "the thirsty deer chasing the mirage" — the thirsty deer, seeing the mirage from afar, mistakes it for water and races after it, but on drawing near finds nothing to be had). The mind and mental factors are just like this stretch of mirage: there is fundamentally no real water; only because "the sunlight heats the dust of the activities, and the wind of wrong recollection" stirs, does a mark falsely appear, and sentient beings, deluded, falsely grasp it, supposing it really existent. Fill in this dynamic of "from afar seeming to be water, chased after yet not to be had," and the four words "through the arising of delusion" come alive — it is not that there is a mistaken realm out of nowhere, but that when the deluded mind stirs, it seems vividly to exist, and chased after, is at once empty. (Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, Chinese T25n1509.)

Eight similes, eight classes of dharma of practice that are "vivid yet empty" — the great section of seeking the true meaning has, amid this fullness of illusion, said to the end those four words: "exists yet without substance."

XI. Seeking the knowing knowledge: four wisdoms, knowing exhaustively every realm

Having finished with "the true meaning that is known," the treatise turns to ask: then how many kinds are there of the "knowing" knowledge? The answer: four, linked layer to layer —

• Not-true (the not-true discriminating knowledge) — the ordinary person's discrimination that does not yet accord with supramundane knowledge.
• Seeming-true (the neither-true-nor-not-true discriminating knowledge) — from the first extreme-penetration portion onward, it already accords with supramundane knowledge, yet has not truly realized, hence "seeming-true" (this is just the temper of the stage of intensified practice).
• True (the supramundane non-conceptual knowledge) — the root knowledge that directly realizes suchness; this alone is "true."
• Seeming-not-true (the neither-discriminating-nor-non-discriminating knowledge) — the subsequently-attained worldly knowledge that arises again after the supramundane, used to illumine the conventional, hence "seeming-not-true."

With the four wisdoms complete, one knows exhaustively every realm. These four wisdoms are not four blades set side by side, but a single chain from the ordinary into the holy, and from the holy back to illumining the conventional: from not-true, to seeming-true (about to realize), to true (realizing in full), to seeming-not-true (issuing into use after realization). They answer at a distance to the earlier contemplative road of "meaning is only mind-speech → only name," and to the later "transformation of the basis."

XII. Seeking the defiled and the pure: the two "reals" should be left behind; the two lights are like a straightened arrow and a softened hide

Having known the knowing knowledge, one must come down to the actual place of "removing the defiled and bringing forth the pure." First, recognizing the defiled: that "own-element" (自界, the seeds of one's own store consciousness) and the "two lights" (the grasper-light and the grasped-light), together with ignorance and the various afflictions, give rise to all kinds of discrimination; and among them the "two reals" — grasping the grasped as real, grasping the grasper as real — are the root of defilement, and should be sought to be left behind.

Then how to remove it: having attained the three conditions (inner, outer, and both), toward the "own-element" (that is, the various discriminations) and the "place of names" one should settle the mind and train — and training is the cultivating of the two paths of tranquillity and insight. Tranquillity and insight once cultivated, the two lights of grasper and grasped come to rest. Here the treatise gives a most homely simile: "It is like straightening an arrow and softening a hide" — treating raw hide to make it soft, treating a bent arrow to make it straight. The transformation of the basis is likewise: tranquillity and insight, each must be cultivated finely, like softening a hide, like straightening an arrow, so that over long days one attains the liberation of mind and the liberation of wisdom, and the two lights do not arise. That the defiled can be removed and the pure brought forth rests not on one leap, but on just such repeated "softening" and "straightening."

(Scroll four ends here; scroll five follows.)

XIII. Seeking consciousness-only: grasper and grasped, the two graspings, are only a single stretch of "light of mind"

Entering scroll five, the text states "seeking consciousness-only" head-on. After all the winding through illusion-similes above, here it hands over the bottom of the matter: grasper and grasped, these two, are only the "light of mind" (心光, the shadow-appearance the mind manifests); outside the mind there is no real realm.

Further still: even the two lights, defiled and pure, of "the light of craving (the afflictions) and the light of faith (the wholesome dharmas)," have no two dharmas of "defiled and pure" to be divided — apart from the light of mind there are no other real dharmas of craving and faith, so the two lights too have no two marks. It also says: the arising of the various lights of mind (arising at different times, like the light of craving and the light of hatred; arising at the same time, like the light of faith and the light of vigor) is just the various affairs-and-marks; but it "has only the mark of light and no substance of light," and so the World-Honored One does not call them real dharmas. The essential point of consciousness-only is here brought into the open: it is not that "there is a realm outside the mind which the mind goes to cognize," but that "the realm is fundamentally the light of mind, and to cognize the realm is to cognize the shadow of the mind"; and even this stretch of light of mind has no substance, so that one does not, once more, fix "consciousness-only" down into a new "existent."

XIV. Seeking the marks: the marked are five, the marking are three, the fields of learning are five

Having established consciousness-only, the treatise would sort the "marks" clearly — "marks" are of two: the "marked" that is characterized, and the "marking" that characterizes. This section is the most "treatise-flavored" framework in the whole chapter; this exposition teaches each item:

The marked are five (all dharmas that are characterized fall within these five): form-dharmas, mind-dharmas, mental-factor-dharmas (the mental factors), the dharmas not concurrent with mind, and the unconditioned dharmas. In the verse the five words "common, mind, seeing, position, non-turning" are fitted each to one dharma — "common" is form, "mind" is consciousness, "seeing" is the mental factors, "position" is the not-concurrent, "non-turning" is the unconditioned. Stated briefly it is these five; stated at length it is beyond measure.

The marking are three (the marks that characterize):

• The mark of discrimination — again in three: the mark of discrimination with awareness (mind-speech, that is, the arising of a mind-speech understanding toward "meaning"), the mark of discrimination without awareness (the light of latency, the light of meaning arising directly from the seed of mind-speech, not yet formed into an understanding), and the mark of discrimination by mark-and-cause (the light of meaning arising in dependence on name, the light of name arising in dependence on meaning, the realm of objects being not real). All three are non-real discrimination.
• The other-dependent mark — containing the mark of the grasped and the mark of the grasper, each with three lights: the three lights of the grasped-mark are the light of phrase, the light of meaning, and the light of body; the three lights of the grasper-mark are the light of mind (the defiled consciousness), the light of feeling (the five consciousnesses), and the light of discrimination (the mind-consciousness). The six lights are all non-real discrimination, and so are named the other-dependent.
• The true mark — again in three: the self-mark (substance which is just no-substance — dharmas being only discrimination, taking no-substance as substance, substance and no-substance not different), the defiled-and-pure mark (not-quiet-and-quiet — not quiet because of the adventitious, quiet because of the intrinsic purity), and the non-discriminating mark (discrimination not operating, without conceptual elaboration).

Then it opens "the five fields of learning" (the five layered steps that are the object of training): the able-to-hold (the true Dharma the Buddha teaches), the held (right recollection), the mirror-image (the mind-element — attaining concentration, one settles the mind on the dharma-realm; the concentrated mind being the mirror, the dharma-realm being the image), the clear awakening (the supramundane wisdom — where existent, seeing existence as it truly is 〔the no-self of dharmas〕; where not-existent, seeing non-existence as it truly is 〔grasper and grasped〕), and the transformation of the basis (the fifth, taken up in the next section). From holding the true Dharma and rousing right recollection, to illumining the dharma-realm with the concentrated mind and clearly seeing the existent and non-existent with supramundane wisdom, and finally pressing up to "the transformation of the basis" — the five fields of learning are a stairway that draws "seeking the marks" toward actual realization. The ancient masters, reading these five steps of the treatise, fit them just as "hold, sustain, mirror, clear, basis" — holding the Dharma, reasoned attention, the concentrated mind as mirror illumining the shadow-image of what is known, clear seeing and the leaving-behind of the two graspings, and finally attaining the pure transformation of the basis and entering the path of seeing; so this road of "the able-to-hold → the held → the mirror-image → the clear awakening → the transformation of the basis" is just the harvest, in actual realization, of that earlier contemplative road of "discerning the light of meaning · the light of meaning not other than mind-speech."

XV. The transformation of the basis: seeds and remaining consciousnesses transformed; accomplishing five senses, attaining four masteries

The last of the five fields of learning, "the transformation of the basis," is the eye of this whole section. How is the "transformation of the basis" turned? The treatise says it is "the turning of the seeds (the turning of the store consciousness) and the turning of the remaining consciousnesses (the turning of the lights of phrase, meaning, and body)," turned into the "outflow-free element," on which the three vehicles alike depend.

The treatise expressly says that "the seeds are transformed" and "the remaining consciousnesses are transformed" into the outflow-free element; this sentence does not adjudicate whether the stream before and after transformation is numerically identical. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 The settling of turbid water only helps convey the continuity implied by "transformation"; it is not evidence of identity of substance, nor a basis for turning the statements that the dharma-realm and the world have not differed, or that saṃsāra and nirvāṇa are not two, into an independent ontological verdict.

After the transformation of the basis there are two layers of fruit-marks, both taught in this exposition:

First, the holy nature is equal, while the Buddha has five kinds of superiority. The "holy nature" (the outflow-free element) is attained by all the holy ones alike, hence "the realization is equal," and the liberation of the Buddha and of the two vehicles is the same; yet the Buddha, though equal with the two vehicles in holy nature, has of his own five kinds of superiority: superiority of purity (outflows and latencies alike exhausted), superiority of pervasion (the buddha-fields all pure), superiority of body (having the dharma-body), superiority of enjoyment (turning the Dharma-wheel unbroken), and superiority of activity (manifesting emanated affairs to benefit beings). Again, "neither decreasing nor increasing" — when the defiled portion decreases its substance does not decrease, when the pure portion increases its substance does not increase; suchness is just so. Equal, yet not effacing the Buddha's fullness; superior, yet not wrecking the sameness of the holy nature — this measure is just the scenery upon the fruit of the "transformation of the basis."

Second, attaining the "four masteries," fitted to the last three grounds. If the three lights of mind, feeling, and discrimination are turned, one attains the four: mastery of non-discrimination, mastery of the buddha-field, mastery of knowledge, and mastery of activity. These four masteries belong severally to the bodhisattva's last three grounds: the Immovable Ground (不動地) attains the first two (mastery of non-discrimination — non-effortful and non-discriminating; mastery of the buddha-field — the buddha-field pure); the Ground of Good Wisdom (善慧地) attains the mastery of knowledge (skill in the four unobstructed discriminations); the Dharma-Cloud Ground (法雲地) attains the mastery of activity (the activity of spiritual powers unobstructed). The transformation of the basis is not an abstract slogan; it has, on the bodhisattva's grounds, definite fruit-positions and functions — ground by ground, the masteries gradually fill out.

XVI. Seeking liberation: three gates of the path, layer by layer setting down "having something to attain"

From the transformation of the basis one advances into a string of liberation-teachings that "grow emptier the more one seeks." The treatise opens three separate gates of liberation in a row; this exposition teaches each — their common direction is to unload "having something to attain" layer by layer:

• The gate of consciousness-only — taking "the twofold no-self" as skillful means: within the three realms of existence, one knows that person and dharma alike have no real substance (no-self); and having so known, again it is not that all is simply absent, but rather one takes the "true consciousness-only" of the dharmas; at the last, even that "light of consciousness" is absent too — person and dharma not to be found, apart from having-something-to-attain, and this is liberation. This gate sets down even the last point of "consciousness-only."
• The gate of only-name — contemplating upon "the able-to-hold (the Dharma heard), the held (right recollection), and the store (the fulfillment of merit and wisdom)": contemplating, one knows "there is only name" (only verbal designation, no real meaning; only-name being just consciousness-only, being just the four aggregates that are non-form); advancing further, contemplating that "name" one is contemplating, one does not see even its name — name too not to be found, apart from having-something-to-attain, and this is liberation.
• The gate of turning-back-the-stream — with "the latent impressions of the view of self" as cause, the mind is made to flow through the destinies; if one knows that the object of contemplation is not to be found, and settles the mind within, gathering it so it does not scatter, one then turns back that flowing stream — turning back the stream, and this is liberation.

The three gates take different routes and come down at one place: the light of consciousness, the name, the flowing-on — all in the end are "not to be found"; liberation is not the getting of some new thing, but the thorough setting-down of "having something to attain."

Only, this "not to be found," this "having nothing to attain," is most easily misheard as annihilation and nihilistic void — as if, setting down to the last, one falls into a stretch of sheer nothing. At the very end this chapter cites, to guard against just this misunderstanding, a simile of the Prajñā tradition — the Prajñā sūtras list "ten similes," of which one is the "fragrance-city" (乾闥婆城, the gandharva-city), which the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom explains most fully: when the sun first rises, one sees from afar city gates, watchtowers, and palaces, with people going in and out; as the sun climbs higher it fades away, "only to be seen with the eye, yet having no reality." The fragrance-city, mirage-like, from afar seems to have ramparts and towers, yet on drawing near has no substance at all; and yet it does appear before the eye as if existent — it is not that nothing appears whatever. "Having nothing to attain" is just this measure: on one side it breaks your real-grasping of the city (chased after, it has no substance), on the other it does not wreck that vivid appearing (gazed at, there is a city). So "having nothing to attain" is not "the getting of a 'nothing,'" still less the sheer nihilist's nothing-at-all; it is that, right where there is vivid appearing, one no longer grasps a substance — the city still appears, yet the grasping is already let go, and this is the liberating "not to be found." (Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom, Chinese T25n1509.)

XVII. Seeking the absence of self-substance: self-absent, substance-absent, substance-not-abiding — penetrating to "the nirvāṇa of intrinsic quiescence"

Setting-down having come to this point, the treatise presses the principle of "the absence of self-substance" to the bottom. The "absence of self-substance" of dharmas is of three layers, taught by this exposition each in turn:

• Self-absent — dharmas are of themselves absent, because they cannot arise of themselves (being bound to causes and conditions, they cannot generate themselves).
• Substance-absent — a dharma already ceased does not arise again.
• Substance-not-abiding — present dharmas do not abide, instant by instant.

These three kinds of absence of self-substance pervade all conditioned marks; and the ordinary person falsely grasps upon a self-substance "permanence, bliss, self, purity," which various such "marks of divergent discrimination" are likewise without substance — so that all dharmas whatever become "without self-substance."

The marvel is that the treatise, from this, presses on down: "the prior is the support of the latter" — from the self-naturelessness of the prior, the latter is established in sequence: no self-nature → no arising → no ceasing → originally quiescent → the nirvāṇa of self-nature. Link locked into link, from this one step of "dharmas are fundamentally without self-substance" one goes straight through to "the nirvāṇa of self-nature." This flavor may be tasted, again, back at the rope-and-snake: that mistakenly-cognized snake — did it ever "arise"? Never having arisen, it is beyond ceasing too, and is originally quiescent — nirvāṇa is not somewhere far off; it is right in the moment of "seeing through that it was never really existent."

XVIII. Seeking the forbearance of non-arising: eight kinds of "non-arising," patiently forbearing that dharmas are originally unarisen

Following "originally quiescent," the treatise opens "the forbearance of the dharma of non-arising" — that measure of steadiness able patiently to forbear the principle that "dharmas are originally unarisen." It is made up of eight kinds of "non-arising," each pointed out by this exposition:

Non-arising from the origin (birth-and-death having no first origin of birth), true non-arising (dharmas having no difference of before and after), non-arising by way of difference (not arising anew from an old seed in another place), non-arising by self-mark (the wholly-imagined nature ultimately not arising), spontaneous non-arising (the self-nature of the other-dependent nature not arising), non-arising without difference (the true nature not arising as a separately-different substance), defiled non-arising (at the time of the knowledge of exhaustion, the defiled view no longer arises), and non-arising of distinction (the dharma-body of all Buddhas not arising as having distinction).

The eight "non-arisings," from the ordinary person's birth-and-death all the way to the dharma-body of all Buddhas, spread the principle of "non-arising" full across the whole course from defiled to pure. To see that dharmas have never really "arisen," and for the mind to be able to abide unmoved, is the "forbearance of the dharma of non-arising" — not the extinguishing of the "existent" into the "non-existent," but the seeing-through that it was never really existent, so that there is nothing to arise, nothing to cease, and one calmly forbears.

XIX. Seeking the one vehicle: eight intentions teach the one vehicle, and yet there is not no three vehicles

Next is "seeking the one vehicle." The treatise raises eight intentions by which the "one vehicle" is taught; this exposition lists them in turn: sameness of dharma (the one same dharma-realm), sameness of no-self (the same no-self substance), sameness of liberation (the same extinguishing of the obstruction of the afflictions), difference of nature (drawing those of undetermined nature into the great vehicle), all Buddhas attaining the same aim (as I have attained, sentient beings attain alike), the intention of the śrāvaka becoming a Buddha (having formerly the nature settled to become a Buddha, receiving the Buddha's gathering-in), transformation (the Buddha manifesting the śrāvaka's nirvāṇa in order to teach), and the ultimate (reaching the Buddha's substance, there is no further place to go).

Then the treatise specially adds a sentence that matters — "and yet there is not no three vehicles" — and says that the Buddha's teaching the one vehicle is in order to "draw in the undetermined śrāvaka and hold fast the undetermined bodhisattva": the śrāvaka undetermined in his own vehicle-nature, the Buddha draws into the great vehicle; the bodhisattva undetermined in his own vehicle-nature, the Buddha holds fast so that he does not retreat from the great vehicle.

Here one must note the measure of this exposition: it is the treatise itself that, by the eight intentions, sets forth the principle of the one vehicle and at the same time plainly states that the three vehicles are not abolished — the teaching of the one vehicle laying its weight on drawing in those "undetermined in their own vehicle-nature." This exposition faithfully transmits this harmonization within the text, and passes no verdict whatever on "one vehicle versus three vehicles, which is higher." The treatise further sorts out the "undetermined śrāvaka" in fine: the vehicles of seeing-the-meaning / not-seeing-the-meaning, and those who see the meaning divided again into severing-craving / not-severing-craving (both of soft faculties); and it says such persons can, by the holy path, dedicate toward the various existences, are answered in accord with the "two births" (the birth of aspiration-mastery and the birth of transformation-mastery), and, because they "delight in nirvāṇa and are again and again wearied of self," are called "the dull path," needing long ages before attaining awakening; further, those "whose task is not yet done" are born in a world without a Buddha, cultivate meditation of themselves, relinquish the birth-body and receive a transformation-body, and gradually attain the great awakening (their sequence being as the treatise's cited Buddha-Śrīmālā Sūtra says: first seeing the truths, next as a solitary awakener, and after becoming a Buddha). This whole string of fine detail is the treatise's own laying-out of "how the undetermined lineage may turn into the great vehicle"; this exposition transmits it faithfully as it stands — as for which is higher and which lower, it transmits and does not compose. (Buddha-Śrīmālā Sūtra, cited within the treatise, Chinese T31n1604.)

XX. Seeking the fields of knowledge: learning throughout the five sciences, all for "seeking the all-kinds-of-knowledge"

Having seen through the real and harmonized the one vehicle, the bodhisattva must still spread out, in "practice," to measureless fine detail — this is the last great section of the whole chapter, beginning with "seeking the fields of knowledge."

The five sciences are the five fields of learning the bodhisattva should study throughout: inner science (the meaning of the Buddha-Dharma), the science of reasons (logic), the science of sounds (language and letters), the science of medicine (medical formulae), and the science of crafts (crafts and skills). The treatise first states the "general intention": learning throughout the five sciences is all for "seeking the all-kinds-of-knowledge (一切種智, omniscience)" — without diligent practice of the five sciences one does not attain the all-kinds-of-knowledge; it then states the "particular intention": inner science for one's own understanding, the science of reasons for subduing outsiders' grasping, the science of sounds for making others believe, the science of medicine for curing illness, and the science of crafts for gathering in sentient beings. For the sake of benefiting beings, worldly learning too is the bodhisattva's homework — the five sciences are not miscellaneous study, but the five gateways of "the all-kinds-of-knowledge" into the world.

XXI. Seeking the nurture of wholesome roots: forty-four kinds of "attention," rearing wholesome roots thought by thought

The broadest section of seeking-practice is "seeking the nurture of wholesome roots" — fulfilling the various perfections by "attention." The treatise opens forty-four kinds of attention, from "knowing the cause" to "I am superior," each of them one honest application of the bodhisattva's mind of "making this thought." This exposition does not re-list them word for word, but only makes clear the thread of this long string of prayer-beads, so the reader may see it is no loose sand but a heart-road with sequence:

It sets out from "knowing the cause (seeing that the nature of the perfections can grow), recollecting the support (the great mind as support, certain to be fulfilled), the shared fruit (where the fruit can be shared, vowing to receive it), and resolute understanding (penetrating the undefiledness of the three spheres)" — first fixing "why one cultivates, in dependence on what one cultivates"; then through "attaining joy, not retreating, cultivating in accord" (not retreating amid adversity, cultivating in accord by the four affairs of confession, rejoicing, exhortation, and dedication), "pure faith, receiving, delighting to expound, donning the armor, rousing the vow, aspiring, skillful means" (deep faith, not slandering, revealing, donning the armor of great valor, making vows, seeking conditions, reflecting on companions); then to "valor, compassion" (the four valors, the four immeasurable minds), "having conscience, having delight, without cowering, cultivating, praising" (conscience at slackness, holding the mind unscattered, viewing retreat-and-loss as an enemy, gathering learning-related discourse, praising according to capacity); then to "relying on the perfections, that which should be known" (attaining awakening in dependence on the perfections and not on a self-existent god, comprehending obstacle and quality), "delighting to amass, seeing the meaning, delighting to seek" (delighting to amass merit and wisdom, seeing that the perfections can attain the benefit of awakening, rousing the four seekings of equal, non-discriminating, present-holding, and future-conditioning); then to "seeing the not-existent grasping, the notion of the rare, the notion of the not-rare" (seeing the seven not-existent graspings, rousing the four notions of the rare and the four notions of the not-rare), "leaving the extremes, the great meaning, transferring the gift, the ultimate, the unbroken" (turning toward sentient beings, benefiting broadly, giving the gift of merit-and-vow, the three places of the ultimate, unbroken and unceasing), "gathering-in accordingly, no delight, joy" (ever gathering in accordingly, no delight over those who retreat, joy over those who advance), "not wishing to cultivate, wishing to cultivate, not following, wishing to attain" (not cultivating the counterfeit, diligently cultivating the true, severing the obstacle, wishing to attain the prophecy and the certain ground), and finally to "the resolved doing, observing others, I am superior" (resolved to do it, vowing to be fulfilled together with others, confident that what one does is foremost, knowing that beyond this substance there is nothing higher)."

It is like a very long string of prayer-beads, each bead one honest self-reminder — conscience where one ought to feel conscience, joy where one ought to feel joy, dedication where one ought to dedicate, non-retreat where one ought not to retreat. The bodhisattva path is not a single surge of ardor, but is reared out thus, thought by thought. The closing verse sums up: by these forty-four attentions cultivating the various perfections, the bodhisattva, at all times, has his wholesome roots fulfilled.

XXII. Seeking the distinctions of the Dharma: thirteen kinds of "seeking the Dharma," advancing along the three lines of body, ground, and conceit

Practice now spread out, the treatise sorts again upon "seeking the Dharma" itself, into thirteen distinctions. This exposition gathers the thirteen into three lines, to make them easy to remember and understand:

• One line of "growing deeper": the seeking that grows (growing faith by right hearing) → the seeking of higher intention (receiving the stream of Dharma at the Buddha's side) → the vast and great seeking (attaining spiritual powers and hearing from afar the Dharma of all Buddhas); beneath these correspond the seeking with obstacle / the seeking without obstacle / the seeking by spiritual power (the positions, respectively, of these three kinds of person).
• One line of "body": the seeking without body (the wisdoms of hearing and thinking, without yet a dharma-body) → the seeking with body (the wisdom of cultivating, with the seed-body of latent impressions) → the seeking that has attained a body (the first ground through the seventh) → the seeking of the full body (the eighth, ninth, and tenth grounds) — the "body" from absent to full, marking the Dharma's gradual accomplishment upon the body.
• One line of "conceit": the seeking with much conceit (the ground of the practice of faith) → the seeking with little conceit (the first through the seventh ground) → the seeking without conceit (the last three grounds) — "conceit" from much to none, marking the gradual thinning of self-grasping with the grounds.

Seen along the three lines together, the thirteen kinds of seeking the Dharma are in fact one table of "advancing-with-the-grounds": from hearing-and-thinking into cultivating, from bodiless to full-bodied, from much conceit to no conceit — just the graduations of the bodhisattva's steady ascent in seeking the Dharma all the way up.

XXIII. Seeking the causes of the Dharma: four kinds of cause, and the "four notions" of the Sūtra of Questions of Brahmā

For the sake of what does one seek the Dharma? The treatise raises four kinds of cause, and cites the "four notions" of the Sūtra of Questions of Brahmā, fitting them one to one; this exposition teaches them side by side:

• For form (the cause of the marks of excellence) — in seeking the Dharma one should hold the "notion of the wondrous jewel": taking its sense of "hard to obtain" (the Dharma is like a wondrous jewel, the cause of the adornment of the marks of excellence).
• For non-form (the cause of extinguishing the illness of the afflictions) — one should hold the "notion of the good medicine": taking its sense of "removing illness" (the Dharma is like good medicine, extinguishing the illness of the afflictions).
• For spiritual powers (the cause of mastery) — one should hold the "notion of goods and wealth": taking its sense of "not scattering" (the Dharma is like wealth, the cause of the mastery of spiritual powers).
• For the true Dharma (the cause of the inexhaustible) — one should hold the "notion of nirvāṇa": taking its sense of "the extinguishing of suffering" (the Dharma is like nirvāṇa, the true Dharma being inexhaustible).

To seek the Dharma as a wondrous jewel 〔hard to obtain〕, good medicine 〔removing illness〕, goods and wealth 〔not scattering〕, and nirvāṇa 〔the extinguishing of suffering〕 — these four notions are no ornament, but teach one to prize the Dharma with four right "attitudes": seeing at once its hard-to-obtainness, and its curative power, its accumulability, and its ultimacy.

XXIV. Seeking the leaving-behind of discrimination: ten discriminations, the Prajñā Sūtra speaking one line of remedy for each

At the fine and subtle reach of practice, one must do finework upon "discrimination." The treatise lists ten discriminations to be left behind, and points out that the Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra speaks, for these ten, one line of remedy for each. This exposition matches them one to one, so one may see how the "sūtra" treats "discrimination" with its own hand:

The discrimination of no-substance (the sūtra says "there is a bodhisattva, a bodhisattva"), the discrimination of substance (the sūtra says "one does not see a bodhisattva," and the rest), the discrimination of superimposition (the sūtra says "the self-nature of form is empty"), the discrimination of diminishment (the sūtra says "it is not that, form ceasing, there is emptiness"), the discrimination of one mark (the sūtra says "if form is empty, it is not form"), the discrimination of divergent mark (the sūtra says "emptiness is not other than form, form is not other than emptiness, emptiness is just form"), the discrimination of self-mark (the sūtra says "this form is only a name"), the discrimination of separate mark (the sūtra says "form neither arises nor ceases, is neither defiled nor pure," and the rest), the discrimination that gives rise to meaning after name (the sūtra says "the name is a guest" — as with name, one should not cling to meaning), and the discrimination that gives rise to name after meaning (the sūtra says "all names are not to be seen" — as with meaning, one should not cling to name).

Ten discriminations, ten lines of sūtra-text, matched one to one. This section shows most clearly the proper task of "the treatise must join the sūtra": the leaving-behind of discrimination is no separate invention of this treatise, but the treatise setting each of the Prajñā's existing remedy-lines into its place — the medicine that treats discrimination was long since prepared within the sūtra.

XXV. Seeking the greatness of the Dharma: three kinds of "greatness," qualities like an ocean

The last section of the whole chapter is "seeking the greatness of the Dharma" — gathering this long road of seeking-the-way into three kinds of "greatness":

• Greatness of skillful means — with the supreme vigor, seeking the reality of the conventional truth and the ultimate truth, real and undistorted.
• Greatness of benefiting others — being the refuge of the world, settling sentient beings in the ultimate truth.
• Greatness of benefiting oneself — all qualities fulfilled, full as a great ocean.

Having oneself attained the real (greatness of skillful means), able also to establish others in the real (greatness of benefiting others), while one's own qualities are full as an ocean (greatness of benefiting oneself) — the "greatness" of seeking the Dharma lies just in this: in self-benefit and benefiting others, in compassion and wisdom rounded both. And so the Chapter on Seeking the Dharma closes with this air of "qualities like an ocean."

Conclusion: one long road of "seeking"

Seen whole, the Chapter on Seeking the Dharma is one long road of "seeking the way" from beginning to end, no stretch of which is walked in vain:

Seeking the Dharma, seeking the condition, seeking knowledge, seeking attention (readying the material of the three baskets and the tools of tranquillity and insight) → seeking the true meaning, the illusion-similes, blocking the three extremes, the eight similes (the view — the three natures all real, the realm like an illusion, not grasping the existent or non-existent, not fleeing into cessation) → seeking the knowing knowledge, seeking the defiled and pure, seeking consciousness-only (the four wisdoms knowing the realm, straightening the arrow and softening the hide to remove the defiled, grasper and grasped a single light of mind) → seeking the marks, the transformation of the basis (the marked five, the marking three, the five fields of learning; seeds and remaining consciousnesses transformed into the outflow-free element, accomplishing the five superiorities, attaining the four masteries) → seeking liberation, the absence of self-substance, the forbearance of non-arising (the three gates setting down having-something-to-attain, pressing on to the nirvāṇa of intrinsic quiescence, patiently forbearing the non-arising of dharmas) → seeking the one vehicle (the eight intentions teaching the one vehicle and yet not abolishing the three, transmitted-and-not-composed) → seeking the fields of knowledge, the forty-four attentions, the distinctions of the Dharma, the causes, the leaving-behind of discrimination, the greatness of the Dharma (the practice — the five sciences, the attentions like a long string of beads, the thirteen seekings, the four notions, the ten lines of remedy, closing at last with qualities like an ocean).

Within this one chapter, the "view" of Consciousness-Only and the "practice" of the bodhisattva run through as one, and no single meaning is mere ornament: the view is everywhere the middle way of "exists yet not-existent," the practice is everywhere the rearing "thought by thought."

One sentence to close: the seeking of the way is inexhaustible, and its whole gist is only in one line — "amid the illusory, seeing the real; amid the real, not forsaking sentient beings." Upon the rope there was never a snake, and yet the hemp rope is vivid before the eye; and it is right here, at this real place of "vivid yet empty, empty yet vivid," that the bodhisattva seeks on, and practices on, to the exhaustion of the future.

The Chapter on Seeking the Dharma got the Dharma "sought" into hand; having obtained it, one must "speak it out" — and this is "proclaiming the Dharma." This chapter treats the whole craft of proclaiming: first it breaks the fault of "hoarding the Dharma and not speaking it," then it states the benefit of proclaiming, who has the accomplishments of one who can teach (speaking, speech, and syllables, up to the sixty kinds of vocal sound of the Tathāgata), how to speak purely (the three spheres pure, freedom from the eight faults, the four pure practices), the many skillful means of speaking (the four divisions, the four intents), and finally the cutting off of obstructions, the upholding of the Dharma, and the merits of teaching it.

I. Do not hide the Dharma away: the gift of Dharma grows the more it is given

Hard to get and moreover unstable — pitying suffering, one gives ever gladly; how much more, using the Dharma to benefit the world, where the growth too is inexhaustible.

The treatise opens by breaking a fault — "hoarding the Dharma" (being unwilling to speak the Dharma to others). Its reasoning is very down-to-earth: body, life, and wealth are things "hard to get and moreover unstable," yet the bodhisattva, out of compassion, gives even these three away at any time to beings in distress and suffering. What, then, of the "Dharma"? It is not hard to get, and giving it away makes it grow without end — what is there in such a thing to be stingy about?

One may feel it through one lamp lighting another: I take the flame of my lamp and use it to kindle yours, and my flame is in no way diminished; on the contrary, two lamps, ten lamps, a thousand lamps — the more it is passed on the brighter, the more it is shared the more there is. The gift of Dharma is just so — spoken to others, one's own Dharma is not lessened but, in speaking it again and again, grows more ripe and more clear. To keep the Dharma hidden and cover it over is the least profitable stinginess in the world.

This is exactly the principle the Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom long ago made plain: "The gift of wealth has a measure; the gift of Dharma is measureless. The gift of wealth has an end; the gift of Dharma is endless — as when one feeds a fire with fuel, its brightness turns ever greater" (and so the treatise judges: "of the two gifts, the gift of Dharma is the superior"). Give away a portion of wealth and by that much it is the less; the Dharma, by contrast, is like firewood added to a fire, whose flame only burns the more brightly for it — got without difficulty, given away without end. The treatise's line "how much more, using the Dharma to benefit the world, where the growth too is inexhaustible" is of one and the same bloodline as this.

II. Why the Buddha speaks: what he realizes of himself cannot be spoken; compassion streams out to draw beings in

What is realized of oneself cannot be spoken; to draw beings in, he speaks the nature of dharmas; the dharma-body, with the mouth of quiescent cessation, streams compassion like a great python drawing things in.

Here lies a deep layer of meaning: the realm the Buddha realizes of himself is in fact "unspeakable" — it is apart from words, cut off from thought. Then why does the Buddha still teach the Dharma? In order to "draw beings in," he speaks, by skillful means, the "nature of dharmas." The treatise uses a very forceful comparison (this is a simile the treatise supplies of itself): the buddhas take the "nature of dharmas" as their body and "quiescent cessation" as their mouth, and then, with great loving-kindness and compassion, stream out the net of the teaching to draw beings in — just as a great python opens its mouth and spews its saliva, drawing all things toward it. The Buddha's body, mouth, and compassion draw beings in all at once, and the great compassion is without end.

At first glance this comparison is strange, yet its meaning is deep: the Buddha's teaching of the Dharma is not to "tell you a doctrine"; it is, with his whole heart of compassion, to "draw" you toward liberation — a kind of gathering-in that is inexhaustible and wholly active.

Because they practice and gain the fruit, practice and teaching are not without meaning; but if by mere hearing, and by not hearing — then practice and teaching would have no reason.

The treatise next points out that "hearing" and "practice" require each other: the Buddha teaches the Dharma, people practice according to it and gain the fruit, and so both "teaching" and "practice" have meaning. Turn it around and it becomes plain — if seeing the truth came by mere hearing, would not "practice" be superfluous? And if one could practice without needing to hear, would not "teaching" be superfluous? Precisely because neither can be spared, proclaiming the Dharma (teaching) is this important: it is the eye of "practice," pointing out to a person just where to bend his effort.

III. One who can teach: he speaks with one voice, and each kind understands according to its own

Next comes a long passage in which the treatise enumerates in detail the various accomplishments of "one who can teach the Dharma" — set out in three layers, "the accomplishment of speaking, the accomplishment of speech, and the accomplishment of syllables": fearlessness, cutting off doubt, inspiring faith, and disclosing the real; not fine-drawn, harmonious, skillful, lucid, suited to the listener, free of self-seeking; raising up the name, explaining the meaning, following the vehicle, being gentle, and so forth. Gather these many clauses into a single sentence, and one finds they all point in one and the same direction: good teaching of the Dharma keeps its eyes always on "the one who hears," never on "the one who speaks."

So there recur again and again "suited to the listener" (speaking according to his capacity), "making him understand" (letting him grasp it), "not for gain" (not for one's own fame or profit), and "free of intoxication" (neither elated when praised, nor conceited over one's own attainment). This is just like a good doctor who applies the medicine to the illness, a good teacher who instructs each according to his material — the Dharma is one and the same Dharma, yet to different people it must be spoken into the shape each can receive.

The height of this layer is "the sixty kinds of vocal sound of the Tathāgata" (as listed in the Sūtra of the Buddha's Secret, from the "moistening sound" to the "sound accomplishing all kinds"). What it means to disclose is the inconceivability of the Buddha's activity of speech — the Buddha expounds with a single sound, yet immeasurable beings each, according to his own capacity, hear the very phrase that fits himself. This is exactly that verse from the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, transmitted for a thousand years: "The Buddha expounds the Dharma with one voice, and beings, each according to its kind, severally understand" — one and the same teaching, and thousands upon thousands each gain their own understanding of it: this is the highest ground of teaching the Dharma.

IV. Speaking purely: the three spheres pure, free of the eight faults, the four pure practices

To be able to speak is not enough; one must also speak "purely." The treatise says "the three spheres are pure" — the speaker (the buddhas and bodhisattvas), what is spoken (the Dharma), and the hearer (the audience), all three sides pure; and one must also be "free of the eight faults" — indolence, not understanding the meaning, refusing another's request, not disclosing the meaning, not cutting off another's doubt, cutting off doubt but not settling it, wearying and drawing back (unwilling to teach at all times), and stinginess (unwilling to disclose to the full). These eight are a self-examination checklist for the one who teaches: Am I being lazy? Have I made the words clear? Have I resolved the person's doubt through? Am I holding something back? The buddhas have left all eight of these ills behind, and so accomplish "unsurpassed teaching of the Dharma."

To this is added the "four pure practices" to seal one's character: solitary (not running in the same stream as the outsiders), complete (having cut off entirely the afflictions of the three realms), clear (the uncontaminated purity of one's own nature), and white (the stainless purity of a body in which the contaminants are exhausted). One sees that when proclaiming the Dharma reaches its height, what it rests on is no longer eloquence alone, but the purity of the one who teaches — the person being clean, only then is the Dharma spoken cleanly.

V. The skillful means of teaching: the four divisions and the four intents

This is the passage where this chapter most shows its "skillful means." The treatise points out that the Buddha's teaching of the Dharma has "four divisions" (four measures of instruction: the inducing division, the mark division, the counteracting division, and the secret division) and "four intents" (four kinds of purpose: the equality intent, the distinct-meaning intent, the distinct-time intent, and the distinct-inclination intent). Held together, they come to a single sentence: the Buddha teaches the Dharma differently according to person and to time — one and the same truth must, for different people and at different moments, be opened with a different "key." One key opens one lock: this is the great skillful means.

Here there are two places that must be received faithfully, keeping to the treatise's own measure:

• Within the "secret division" there is a kind of "deep speech" whose literal wording runs directly counter to the ordinary understanding (such as "the unstable, understood as stable and firm," and "abiding well in inversion"). This is not a misstatement, but a "turning of words" the Buddha intends deliberately — one must "turn back" the words to obtain the right meaning, and the text itself comes bearing its own decoding (the commentary immediately unpacks it: "the unstable" refers to the mind's not being scattered, and understanding this as stable and firm best attains awakening; "abiding well in inversion" refers to abiding well, amid the grasping of permanence-bliss-self-purity, in the understanding of "impermanence, no-bliss, no-self, impurity"…). This exposition only transmits, as it stands, this manner of setting "verse text and self-decoding" side by side; it does not add over it a further layer of argument to guard against misreading — for the scripture is already self-evident, and needs no adjudication of mine.

• The "intention with respect to another time" says this: statements such as "those who vow to see Amitābha Buddha will all attain rebirth" are judged by the treatise to be spoken "with respect to another time (a distinct time) attaining that rebirth." The point to see clearly is this — this is the treatise adjudicating "with what intention the Buddha spoke this statement"; it is a "judgment of intention." This exposition transmits that judgment as it stands, and makes no acceptance, rejection, or evaluation of the content of the Pure Land teaching itself.

Once one grasps the "four divisions and four intents," reading the scriptures no longer clings rigidly to the letter: one must always ask, "With what intention, and using which key, is the Buddha speaking?" — this is the eye the proclaimer of the Dharma must have, and the ear the hearer of the Dharma must have.

VI. The fruit of proclaiming: cutting off obstructions, the ten merits, bright as the sun over the world

Last comes the fruit. The treatise first states "cutting off obstructions in the Great Vehicle" — there are eight obstructions (making light of the Buddha, making light of the Dharma, indolence, being content with little, conduct of craving, conduct of conceit, conduct of remorse, and unsettledness), and the Great Vehicle scriptures each state a teaching to counteract them (all being Great Vehicle scriptural passages the commentary cites); the obstructions cut off, such a person "enters the true Dharma." It then states the "ten merits of upholding the Great Vehicle" — from "the fulfillment of the seed of wholesome roots" and "attaining great joy at the time of death," to "life after life meeting the buddhas, hearing the Dharma, and growing in faith and wisdom" and "leaving far behind the two obstructions and swiftly accomplishing awakening" (in this present life one first gains the first two; in future lives one gradually gains the remaining eight).

Wisdom good and never turning back, great compassion and far-reaching renown, with skillful means he speaks the many dharmas, bright as the sun over the world.

The final verse closes the whole chapter with "the merits of teaching the Dharma": one who possesses the five causes (teaching without error — from good wisdom; teaching at all times — from never turning back; teaching free of self-seeking — from great compassion; teaching that inspires faith — from far-reaching renown; teaching suited to the occasion — from skillful means) is one who "teaches the Dharma well," able to draw beings into reverence over many lives — like the sun rising and lighting up the whole world. This line, "bright as the sun over the world," is the finest closing image of the whole chapter: the one who teaches the Dharma should be to beings just like the sun — only shining out and lighting the way, never asking whether people are grateful or repay the kindness.

Conclusion: the Dharma is a lamp to be lit, not a treasure to be hoarded

Read whole, the Chapter on Proclaiming the Dharma treats this stretch of the bodhisattva's craft — "speaking out the Dharma he has sought." First it breaks hoarding the Dharma (the gift of Dharma is like a lamp passing on its flame, the more shared the brighter); it makes plain the Buddha's compassion that draws beings in (like the python's drawing-in, an inexhaustible gathering-in); it enumerates in detail the accomplishments of one who can teach (speaking with one voice, each kind understanding according to its own, the eyes holding only the one who hears); it requires speaking purely (the three spheres pure, freedom from the eight faults, the four pure practices); it shows speaking with skillful means (the four divisions and four intents, one key one lock, speaking according to intention); and it comes home to cutting off obstructions, the ten merits, bright as the sun over the world.

In a sentence: the Dharma is not a treasure to be privately hoarded; it is a lamp to be lit onward one flame at a time. One who truly can teach the Dharma has in his heart only the one who hears — like the sun, only lighting up the world, never asking for return.

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."

This exposition does not re-walk those thirty-odd verses one by one; it takes this single "road" and threads it whole, from start to finish, so that one can see clearly, step by step, how the bodhisattva climbs from the ordinary person all the way to buddhahood.

The Chapter on Practice in Accord told of "how to practice"; the Chapter on Instruction tells of how, under the Tathāgata's "instruction" (his personal guidance), that practice walks out a whole graded path: from amassing faith and merit at the start, through calming and insight that tame the mind, through the four stages of intensified practice, up onto the path of seeing and into the first ground, then through the nine grounds of the path of cultivation, and at last to the vajra concentration, the consecration, and buddhahood. This is the whole treatise's one "map to buddhahood." It can be felt by way of climbing a mountain: below is the foothill of the provisions; the four stages of intensified practice are the last few sheerest stone steps just below the summit; the path of seeing is the first glimpse of the country on the far side of the mountain; the path of cultivation is the going on up the ridge, one stretch after another; the vajra concentration is the last step onto the peak — and at every step there is a Buddha ahead, leading the way.

I. Before climbing the mountain: amass faith and merit, tame the mind with calm and insight

To climb a mountain, one must first have the strength of leg for it. The treatise says: when the bodhisattva's practice has been carried on for a full "incalculable aeon" (asaṃkhyeya-kalpa), only then is faith nourished to its highest grade, and all the manifold good, following faith, gathers in — brimming and full, like the waters of the great sea. Faith is the leader; the manifold good is what follows in train. Merit now sufficient, one further gains the "first purity," gains the "utmost knowledge" of wide learning, and gains the "pliant mind" freed of obstructions — only then is one qualified to "climb the mountain."

Thereupon one is "instructed by the Buddhas with the stream of Dharma" (for instance, by their expounding the Sūtra of the Ten Grounds). Having received the instruction, the bodhisattva tames the mind step by step: first arousing the six minds (from taking up the name, to discerning the phrase, to pondering the meaning, and on to seeking to reach the sense of it); then arousing the eleven kinds of attention (from "with apprehension and with examination" through to "reverence" — furnishing oneself with all the devices both of "calm" and of "insight," and of "rousing up the mind when it sinks, gathering it in when it scatters"); then cultivating the nine kinds of station of mind (from "settling and abiding upon the object" all the way to "total holding, effortless and self-flowing"). This chapter lists settled-abiding, gathered-abiding, released-abiding, turned-abiding, subdued-abiding, quieted-abiding, ceased-abiding, natured-abiding, and held-abiding; the Yogācārabhūmi separately lists inward abiding, even abiding, settled abiding, close abiding, taming, quieting, utmost quieting, one-pointed focus, and even holding. Both lists have nine items and related functions, so they are placed side by side here for comparison; whether every item has exactly the same referent requires closer collation and is not independently decided in this exposition. The six minds, eleven attentions, and nine stations together present a movement from coarse to subtle in taming the mind: taming a scattered mind, grade by grade, until it can settle and abide and can flow effortlessly of itself. Once it is tamed to fluency, one gains "bodily ease and mental ease" (the pliancy of body and mind) — this is the sign that the strength of leg for climbing has been trained up.

II. Signs near the summit: the pliant mind, supernormal powers, the five qualities

The strength of leg trained, there is yet a further storey to climb. To advance this ease, the bodhisattva cultivates further the fundamental meditative concentrations — "purifying the meditations for the sake of the powers" — on the one hand arousing supernormal powers, on the other accomplishing the "supremely pliant mind." What are the supernormal powers for? "Arousing the powers, one roams the many worlds and serves the World-Honored Ones in turn" — roaming through measureless worlds, serving and offering to measureless Buddhas, and everywhere hearing the true Dharma; and just because offering to the Buddhas is the cause, one thereby gains all the more the accomplishment of the first-rank pliant mind.

At this point, before ascending the first ground (the "ground of the purified mind"), the bodhisattva first gains the Tathāgata's "five kinds of praise," and accomplishes a pure "vessel-body" (the capacity to receive the great Dharma), fit to enter the unsurpassed vehicle. The five qualities so praised are: the melting of the latent tendencies (dissolving away the latent tendencies moment by moment), bodily ease and mental ease (the pliancy of body and mind, pervading throughout), round clarity (the full understanding of the emptiness of all kinds), and seeing the mark (seeing the non-conceptual mark, which is the cause of the later purity) — the first three belonging to "calm," the latter two to "insight"; at the ten grounds they reach "fullness," and at the buddha-ground "purity." These five are the look of a root capacity ripened through, just before the path of seeing.

III. The last, sheerest four stone steps below the summit: warmth, summit, acceptance, supreme worldly dharma

At that time this bodhisattva, gaining a settled mind in due order, because he sees only mind-speech, does not see any object at all.

Next comes the most essential passage of the whole chapter — the "four stages of intensified practice" (the four roots of the wholesome), the last four, sheerest and most decisive, stone steps below the summit. First, see their "position" on this long road: the chapter opens by saying that only when "practice has been carried on for a full incalculable aeon" is faith nourished to its highest grade, and later says that "the stage of cultivation takes two incalculable aeons" (the path of cultivation runs through the second and third great aeons) — these four roots of the wholesome fall precisely at the point where the first great incalculable aeon is about to close and the path of seeing is not yet ascended: the last barrier after the first stretch of amassing provisions is complete, just before crossing into the path of seeing. They are in fact a step-by-step deepening of one single Consciousness-Only contemplation:

• The stage of warmth (named "brightness," as told in the Ash-River Sūtra): first gaining a settled mind and leaving off the mind's inner speech, one then "sees no object at all, but sees only mind-speech" — seeing that the marks of all outer objects are, in fact, only the mind's own inner speech and discrimination. This is the "brightness" of the first breaking of dawn.
• The stage of the summit: to grow this bit of "dharma-brightness," one arouses firm and unrelenting vigor, and thereby "penetrates consciousness-only" — settling that the ten-thousand things are consciousness-only.
• The stage of acceptance: advancing a step further, one sees that "all objects are only the light of mind, and apart from the light of mind there is no other view to be had," and thereby cuts off "the scattering of the grasped" (the scattering that grasps the grasped object as real).
• The stage of the supreme worldly dharma: the grasped now cut off, there yet remains "the grasper" (grasping the grasping consciousness as real); cutting this off, one swiftly realizes the "uninterrupted concentration," and so reaches the very summit of the worldly dharmas.

These four steps are the step-by-step closing-in of "seeing only mind-speech → consciousness-only → only the light of mind → cutting off both graspings, grasped and grasper." It is upon these four stone steps that the bodhisattva strips away, layer by layer, the last grasping of "an object outside the mind, a self within the object" — and once he has stripped it until both grasper and grasped alike dissolve, he is about to ascend the path of seeing.

IV. Ascending the path of seeing, entering the first ground: the five equalities and the three gates of liberation

Leaving far behind those two graspings, the world-transcending unsurpassed, non-conceptual, stain-gone — this knowledge is gained at this time.

Once the two graspings, grasper and grasped, alike dissolve, the bodhisattva ascends the "path of seeing" — gaining the knowledge that is "non-conceptual and stain-gone," called "dust-free and stain-gone, gaining the pure dharma-eye." These very words, "dust-free and stain-gone, gaining the pure dharma-eye," are precisely the stock idiom the scriptures use everywhere for "first seeing the Dharma": in the Āgamas, of everyone who, on hearing the Dharma, cuts off doubt on the spot and first sees the truth of reality, the text records that he "became dust-free and stain-gone, and gained the pure dharma-eye" (as in the Saṃyukta Āgama) — the treatise borrows this ready-made phrase to mark that the bodhisattva's moment of "seeing the path" is one and the same matter as what the scriptures call "first seeing the Dharma." This is the first time on the road of practice that one truly "glimpses the country on the far side of the mountain": no longer seeing dharmas through the veil of discrimination, but directly seeing the dharma-realm itself. This "being stain-gone" is the "transformation of the basis" of the first ground (turning the basis one rests upon from the defiled into the pure); but note well — first ascending the ground is not thereby ultimate purity; only after passing measureless aeons more does this "basis" become thoroughly pure and complete. To ascend the first ground is not the terminus, but a new point of departure.

Having entered the first ground, two matters of importance open forth. The first is the "five equalities": the bodhisattva has penetrated the equal dharma-realm, and can now "regard another's body as his own body," thereby gaining, between self and other, five kinds of non-difference — the equality of no-self, the equality of there-being-suffering, the equality of the task (all wishing to cut off suffering), the equality of seeking-no-return, and the equality of shared attainment. The hard shell of "you and I" is, here, dissolved for the first time. The second is the "three gates of liberation": through "emptiness" (seeing even the three natures as empty — the wholly-imagined nature is without substance, the other-dependent nature is, like the wholly-imagined, without substance, and the true nature takes no-substance itself as its substance), through "signlessness," and through "wishlessness" — through these three gates the bodhisattva enters liberation.

V. The great-self view: taking all sentient beings as oneself

Awake that the world is only the activities, without self, only clinging in suffering, the meaningless self-view is extinguished; the great benefit rests on the great self.

After the path of seeing, the most moving turn is here. The bodhisattva sees clearly that "the world is only the activities, and in truth there is no self," and so that "meaningless self-view" is extinguished; yet, wondrously, he raises up in its stead a "great-self view" — taking all sentient beings as himself. Thenceforth he is "without self" (without the little self of this one body) yet "has again a self-view" (has the great self that takes sentient beings as itself); "without suffering" (unmoved by the suffering of his own body) yet "also in utmost suffering" (the suffering of sentient beings as though it were in his own body).

And so he benefits sentient beings "seeking no return" — because to benefit sentient beings is, right there, to benefit the "self" (the great self); what is there left to seek outside? For this heart-largeness, which purifies others' defilement by one's own purity, the scriptures offer a ready-made simile: the Pravara-deva-rāja Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra says, "It is like a water-clearing gem: dropped into turbid water, it makes the water clear; the great being bodhisattva's gem of the perfection of wisdom can likewise make the defilements of all sentient beings become clear and pure" — one clear-water gem dropped into turbid water, and, without seeking anything further, the turbid water clears of itself; the bodhisattva, entering with the perfection of wisdom into the defilements of sentient beings, is exactly so. 〔An exposition-borrowed simile, to show the character of the great self benefiting beings.〕 It is just for this reason that he "cannot bear even his own suffering — how much less can he bear the suffering of sentient beings"; the inconceivable suffering of sentient beings, over one lifespan and on to the very bound of birth-and-death, he is willing to undergo in their stead; toward all sentient beings he "loves equally, and never turns back from benefiting others" — a thing supremely rare in the world, and yet also "not rare" — for the very moment others gain benefit is the moment the bodhisattva himself gains benefit. This is the heart-largeness of the great vehicle: stretching "the self" wide enough to hold all sentient beings within it.

VI. Going on up the ridge: the two knowledges of the path of cultivation, the vajra concentration, the consecration, the ultimate transformation of the basis

The remaining grounds speak of the path of cultivation, where the two knowledges are diligently cultivated… The stage of cultivation is two incalculable aeons; at the last one gains the consecration, enters that vajra concentration, and shatters all discriminations utterly.

The path of seeing reaches only the first ground; above lie the "path of cultivation" of the latter nine grounds, running through the second and third great incalculable aeons. This stretch is walked by two knowledges working together: the non-conceptual knowledge (the world-transcending knowledge) ripening the Buddha-dharma above, and the knowledge of things as established (the subsequently-attained worldly knowledge) ripening sentient beings below — realizing the principle on the one side and delivering beings on the other, the two feet climbing the ridge in alternation. At the very last of the ultimate cultivation, the bodhisattva "gains the consecration" (as in receiving position by anointing on the crown), and enters that "vajra-like concentration" — with one stroke firm and keen as a vajra, shattering to the last the subtlest "latent tendencies of discrimination." Why is it named "vajra"? The treatise itself explains it: because this concentration alone can shatter the "latent tendencies of discrimination" (the most subtle grasping, hidden to the very bottom), it is named the vajra-like. As for the vajra itself, the scriptures too have their word: the Pravara-deva-rāja Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra says, "It is like the vajra, firm and dense in its own substance: a blade cannot cut it, fire cannot burn it, water cannot rot it, poison cannot harm it" — the vajra is the hardest thing under heaven, which nothing can wreck, yet which can, in turn, cut through and wreck all things; by this is figured the bodhisattva's last concentration on the verge of buddhahood, so firm and keen that no latent tendency, however fine, can withstand it — one stroke and all are shattered together. 〔An exposition-borrowed simile, to show the firmness and keenness of the vajra-like concentration.〕

The transformation of the basis, ultimately pure, accomplishes all kinds; abiding in this and doing its work — solely for the benefit of the throng of beings.

And so the "ultimate transformation of the basis": forever leaving behind the afflictive obstruction and the cognitive obstruction, and accomplishing all-kinds-of-knowledge. Having climbed the peak and become a Buddha — what does he do? The treatise answers without a hair's hesitation — "solely for the benefit of the throng of beings": abiding in this buddha-position, on to the very exhaustion of the bound of sentient beings' birth-and-death, he manifests attaining the Way and manifests entering nirvāṇa, all along solely for the benefit of all sentient beings. To reach the peak is not to view the scenery for oneself; it is to bring more people up onto the mountain.

VII. The Buddha ahead, leading the way from first to last: the great benefit in three times

The chapter's title-eye is "instruction" — along this long road, the Buddha leads the way ahead from first to last. The treatise says at the end that "the great benefit gained through the great instruction" divides into three times:

• The first time: the bodhisattva constantly gains the sight of the Buddha before him, constantly hears the peerless true Dharma, and constantly arouses the deepest pure faith, pervading his whole mind.
• The next time: if the bodhisattva, upon some Dharma-gate, arouses a mind of "delighting to abide and settle there" (say, clinging fondly to quiescence), the Buddha forcibly hauls him out of it — just as, when a man has fallen into a deep chasm, one with strength grasps him by the hair and hurls him up onto the high bank; so too the Buddha takes the bodhisattva who delights to abide in the deep chasm of quiescence and, by main force, sets him upon the high bank of "the fruit of buddhahood." (This is the treatise's own simile, figuring the Buddha's forceful hauling-out and rescue; transmitted as-is.)
• The final time: the bodhisattva becomes a Buddha, forever withdrawn from all worldly dharmas, his eye gaining the utmost purity and becoming "the non-conceptual supreme awareness" — just as the great sun rises, dispelling the gloom utterly and lighting up the world.

A closing verse sums it up: the child of the Buddha, well able to amass merit and wisdom to the full, to accomplish a concentration of the utmost breadth, and ever to receive the honored instruction, is then "able to exhaust the ocean of qualities."

Conclusion: at every step underfoot, a Buddha ahead leading the way

Taken whole, the Chapter on Instruction is a "map to buddhahood": under the Tathāgata's instruction, from amassing faith and merit at the start, through calming and insight that tame the mind (the six minds · the eleven attentions · the nine stations of mind), the four roots of the wholesome (stripping away both graspings, grasper and grasped), the path of seeing and entry into the first ground (the pure dharma-eye · the five equalities · the three gates of liberation), the great-self benefiting of beings (taking sentient beings as oneself), the two knowledges of the path of cultivation (ripening the Buddha-dharma above, ripening sentient beings below), and the vajra consecration, at last to the ultimate transformation of the basis — and all of this "solely for the benefit of the throng of beings."

To close in a single line: however long and sheer this road, at every step underfoot there is a Buddha ahead leading the way; and the one who reaches the mountaintop, the first thing he does on turning round, is to bring more people up onto this road.

The Chapter on Instruction told how the bodhisattva climbs, stage by stage, in cultivation; this chapter turns to say that when the bodhisattva acts — that is, sets action going, the doing of body, speech, and mind — there is always a companion at his side, called skillful means (方便, skill-in-means). In just four short verses this chapter states four kinds of "skillful means of action": gathering the good together (amassing), rescuing beings from the lesser (rescuing others), keeping guard over the Mahāyāna mind (self-guarding), and acting without clinging (purity).

I. Amassing: the three actions are like the great earth, bearing all that is good

As the great earth's ground bears up four kinds of thing, so the three kinds of action establish all that is good.

The first is amassing — gathering all that is good into one. The treatise uses a plain, sturdy comparison: the great earth can bear up four great things — the great ocean, the mountain ranges, plants and trees, and living beings; likewise the bodhisattva's three actions of body, speech, and mind can bear up and gather all wholesome dharmas (giving and the other perfections, and all the factors of awakening). The good is not a scatter of chance kind deeds done on a whim; it must be gathered and held up bit by bit by the three actions, the way the great earth bears up the ten thousand things. One who would act must first have this earth-like strength of thick bearing.

II. Rescuing others: to rescue beings from the lesser, willingly bearing the toil of measureless eons

Able to carry out the hard-to-do deed, taking on forms for measureless eons, the self-nature of body, speech, and mind rescues them without turning back.

The second is rescuing others. Here there is a certain "hard-to-do deed": some beings want only the self-settling escape of the lesser vehicle, and the bodhisattva, watching them, is pained to the heart ("gives rise to great suffering [on their behalf]"). In order to turn them back from the mind of the lesser vehicle, he is willing to manifest all manner of bodily forms, throughout measureless world-systems, across measureless eons, and long and long to bear the toil of hardship, doing every kind of extremely hard deed. Most moving of all is the latter half: for the sake of rescuing them, though he bears the toil of hardship in place after place, the "self-nature" of his three actions of body, speech, and mind never turns back, never bends. To rescue a single being out of the narrow road, the bodhisattva is willing to pay the toil of measureless eons — this is the weight of the Mahāyāna's "rescuing others."

III. Self-guarding: keeping guard over the Mahāyāna mind, warding off backsliding as one wards off the four harms

As a man dreads the four harms and guards deeply for the sake of his own body, the bodhisattva dreads the two vehicles and guards his action likewise.

The third is self-guarding — keeping guard over one's own Mahāyāna mind. The treatise takes the "four harms" as a comparison: a man deeply wards off the four things that injure the body — poison, weapons, bad food, and enemies — in order to keep his own life safe; the bodhisattva too "deeply wards off" one thing — the arising of a mind of the lesser vehicle. Toward "the various actions of the two vehicles (二乘, the lesser vehicle)" he is as fearful as of the four harms. Why so fearful? Because once a mind of the lesser vehicle rises up, it cuts off the seed of the Mahāyāna, keeps the not-yet-arisen Mahāyāna roots of good from arising, and makes the already-arisen perish again, and it also obstructs the fruit of buddhahood. To keep guard over that first mind — "for the sake of all beings, to become a buddha" — is the bodhisattva's most vital self-protection.

IV. Purity: acting yet not clinging — no discrimination of the three spheres

The doer, the action, and the deed done — not discriminating this three spheres, one crosses the ocean of purified action; the merit is without bound.

The fourth is purity — having done, yet not clinging. The treatise points out the "three spheres" (三輪): the doer (the one who acts), the action (the deed itself), and the deed done (that toward which one acts). These three are in fact all "unobtainable"; not giving rise to discrimination toward this three spheres, the three spheres is thereby pure, and action follows it into purity. Thus one "crosses the ocean of action," and the merit is boundless and inexhaustible.

This "purity of the three spheres" is stated most plainly by the Great Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra where it speaks of giving: when the bodhisattva practices giving, the three spheres is pure — "first, not clinging to oneself as the giver; second, not clinging to the other as the receiver; third, not clinging to the gift or to the fruit of giving" (Chinese T05n0220, scroll 75). Giver, receiver, the thing given, and the fruit gained — not grasping at any of these places: this is called purity of the three spheres. This chapter's "doer, action, and deed done" is precisely the same import: not giving rise to clinging over "I do, what is done, for whom it is done."

It may be felt through a wild goose crossing the vast sky: the wild goose flies across the sky — the water's surface catches its reflection yet keeps no trace of it; the sky lets it fly across, and has never kept it in mind. The bodhisattva's doing of good should be just so — having done, it is as though nothing were done; the mind keeps no record of "I have done, what was done, for whom it was done." It is not that he does not act; it is that he acts leaving no trace behind. And precisely because no trace is left, this merit is, on the contrary, "without bound."

Conclusion: one who would act must have "skill-in-means" for a companion

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on Action and Its Companion tells of the four kinds of skillful means in the bodhisattva's "acting": to bear up all that is good like the great earth (amassing), to willingly toil without turning back in order to rescue beings from the lesser (rescuing others), to keep guard over the first mind as one wards off the four harms (self-guarding), and, having done, to leave no trace (purity).

In a single phrase: the bodhisattva who truly knows how to act always has "skill-in-means" at his side for a companion — gathering the good with the thickness of the great earth, rescuing beings with the courage of one who braves scalding water, guarding the mind with the strictness of one warding off harm; and, the deed once done, like a wild goose crossing the vast sky, leaving not a single trace.

This is a substantial chapter spanning scrolls seven and eight. This exposition follows its major sequence through fixing the number, character, sequence, naming, cultivation, divisions, gathering of practice, countering obstacles, qualities, mutual disclosure, and the four means of gathering.

In "the perfections and the means of gathering," the perfections are the six perfections (六度) and the gathering is the four means of gathering (四攝). The Chapter on Action and Its Companion said that when the bodhisattva "does his work," skillful means must be its companion; this chapter states head-on just what "work" the bodhisattva does — the six perfections by which he ferries himself across, and the four means of gathering by which he draws others in. The treatise expounds the six perfections thoroughly through "ten meanings": (1) fixing the number, (2) the character, (3) the sequence, (4) the naming, (5) cultivation, (6) the divisions, (7) the gathering of practice, (8) the countering of obstacles, (9) the qualities, (10) mutual disclosure. Then, through the four means of gathering, it tells how each and every sentient being is drawn in and led across. What follows takes these ten meanings and teaches them one meaning at a time.

The first meaning — "fixing the number": why exactly "six" — six angles, proven over and over

The treatise opens with a run of six verses, six angles, proving one and the same point over and again: the six perfections are neither more nor fewer; they are exactly six. Why be so exacting about it? Because the six perfections are not six good practices thrown together at random, but a single complete and non-redundant road to buddhahood — take one away and the road is broken; add one and there is repetition. Each of the six angles lights up this "exactly six" from one side:

One — matched to the "three matters of self-benefit." Self-benefit must accomplish three things: advancement, non-defilement, non-distortion. The first four perfections accomplish exactly the "advancement of four matters" — giving accomplishes the means of livelihood, discipline accomplishes one's own person, patience accomplishes one's retinue (the patient person is loved and revered by the crowd, and so gains a retinue), and vigor accomplishes one's undertakings (their setting-in-motion). The fifth, meditation, keeps the afflictions "undefiled" (by the power of concentration it subdues the afflictions); and the sixth, wisdom, keeps action "undistorted" (knowing all that is done just as it is).

Two — matched to the "six matters of the twofold benefit." The first three perfections take in the "three matters of benefiting others" — giving to others, not harassing others, bearing with the harassment of others; the latter three take in the "three matters of self-benefit" — "having a cause" (arising in dependence on vigor), "the mind's abiding" (settling the unsettled mind), and "liberation" (freeing the mind already settled).

Three — matched to the "six matters of benefiting others." The bodhisattva's practice of the six perfections accomplishes benefiting others fully in six matters: making others' enjoyment "not lack" (giving), "not harassing" them (discipline), "bearing" their harassment (patience), aiding what they do so that they "do not fall back" (vigor), turning them by the power of supernormal ability "toward" the true Dharma (meditation), and "speaking well" by wisdom so as to cut off their doubts (wisdom). And these six matters of benefiting others are precisely self-benefit — for what is done for another is as if done for oneself, and by this one attains the great awakening.

Four — matched to the "four causes of the great vehicle." In practicing giving one is "undefiled" toward wealth; in receiving discipline one is "utterly reverent" toward the training-precepts; in practicing patience and vigor these two "do not fall back"; in practicing meditation and wisdom these two are "non-discriminating" — these four causes take in every cause of the great vehicle, and they fall exactly upon the six perfections (undefiled belongs to giving, utter reverence to discipline, not falling back to patience and vigor, non-discrimination to meditation and wisdom), so the perfections are exactly six.

Five — matched to the "six paths of the great vehicle." Here one must first ask — 〔what is meant by a "path"?〕 — whatever has skillful means is a path. Each of the six perfections is a "path of skillful means": not "clinging" to wealth (giving), not being "disturbed" amid objects (discipline), not "abandoning" sentient beings (patience), "increasing" in all good (vigor), purifying "the obstruction of the afflictions" (meditation), purifying "the obstruction to knowledge" (wisdom). The six paths take in every path of the great vehicle.

Six — matched to the "three higher trainings." The first three perfections take in "the higher training in discipline" — and here the treatise has a subtle arrangement: discipline divides into the "core" and the "retinue," where discipline (尸羅) itself is the "core," and giving and patience are its "retinue" (not begrudging wealth when giving, not repaying blows and abuse when patient — both uphold and guard this discipline); the latter two perfections (meditation and wisdom) take in, in order, the two higher trainings of "mind" and "wisdom"; as for the fourth perfection, vigor, it belongs to no one training exclusively, but is the companion shared by all three trainings — not one of the three trainings but leans on vigor to hold it up.

Counted down through the six angles, from whatever side one looks it comes out to exactly six. This "exactness" says just what the six perfections are: the skeleton of the bodhisattva-path — none may be lacking, each has its own office, and not one repeats another.

The second meaning — "the character": the four marks that every perfection alike bears in the practicing

The number "six" fixed, next comes the "character" — what a perfection looks like when it is practiced. The treatise says: when the bodhisattvas practice each perfection, they bear four marks at once.

• Countering an obstacle: the six perfections counter, in order, six afflictions — giving counters stinginess, discipline counters breaking discipline, patience counters anger, vigor counters indolence, meditation counters the scattered mind, wisdom counters delusion. Each perfection is a medicine for just that one portion of the disease.
• Joined to knowledge: the six perfections all "operate together with non-conceptual knowledge" — because one has penetrated the "no-self of dharmas," in giving one does not grasp the mark of giving, in keeping discipline one does not grasp the mark of discipline, and so on. No perfection operates apart from that root non-conceptual knowledge.
• Fulfilling wishes: each perfection fulfills, in accord with the wish of the one it faces — to one who seeks wealth, giving what he desires; to one who seeks discipline, guarding and teaching by body, speech, and mind as he desires; to one who repents, granting gladness (patience); to one at work, aiding as he wishes (vigor); to one who studies concentration, imparting the teaching as he wishes (meditation); to one in doubt, settling it as he wishes (wisdom). Every perfection fulfills a wish "as the person asks."
• Maturing beings: the six perfections come at last to "maturing sentient beings" — first drawing a person in by giving, then maturing him by the teaching of the three vehicles according to his faculties; or first settling him within discipline and the rest, then maturing him by the three vehicles. The landing-place of every perfection is to bring one sentient being toward maturity.

Taking the four marks together: within a single perfection, one both cures a portion of the disease (countering an obstacle), does not leave the root knowledge (joined to knowledge), fulfills the wish of one kind of person (fulfilling wishes), and at last matures one sentient being (maturing beings). These four marks are the inner skeleton the six perfections hold in common.

The third meaning — "the sequence": why this order — three reasons for "no disorder"

The arrangement of the six perfections is not arbitrary. The treatise says its "sequence is without disorder," for three reasons:

• Each gives rise to the next: each later perfection must be raised up by the one before — only by not regarding wealth (giving) can one hold to discipline; only by keeping discipline can one bear (patience); only by bearing can one be vigorous; only by vigor can one enter concentration; only by entering concentration can one loosen the true Dharma. Like a flight of steps: only when the earlier step is firm underfoot can one climb the next.
• From lower to higher: the earlier are lower, the later higher — giving lower and discipline higher, on up to meditation lower and wisdom higher; each perfection is loftier than the one before.
• From coarse to fine: the earlier are coarse, the later fine — giving coarse and discipline fine, on up to meditation coarse and wisdom fine. Why divide it so? The coarse is easy to enter and easy to do, the fine hard to enter and hard to do; so the easy is set in front, that a person may get his footing upon it.

Taking the three reasons together: the six perfections are a road "easy first and hard after, from the shallow into the deep, ascending step by step" — and this is why their order cannot be thrown into disorder.

The fourth meaning — "the naming": each of the six names points out a function

The very names of the six perfections point out what each of them does:

Giving can "remove poverty"; discipline can "make cool" (in the person of full discipline, the fever of afflictions amid the marks of objects is stilled); patience can "break anger" (patience can break anger and exhaust it); vigor can "build the good" (good dharmas are established by the power of vigor); meditation can "hold the mind" (drawing in and holding the inner attention); wisdom can "loosen the true Dharma" (understanding the ultimate truth).

Six names, six functions: removing a person's poverty, making a person cool, breaking a person's anger, establishing good dharmas, holding one's mind, understanding reality — name and meaning answering one to one.

The fifth meaning — "cultivation": the five "supports" the practice of the six perfections leans on

Merely turning out the "work" of giving and keeping discipline is not yet enough. The treatise speaks especially of "the mind that cultivates the six perfections" — saying that the cultivation of each perfection leans on "five supports" (five things relied on):

One — the support of substance (with what "capital" one cultivates) is of four kinds: cultivating in reliance on "cause" (by the power of one's lineage), on "recompense" (by the power of one's own accomplished person), on "vow" (by the power of a former vow), and on "number" (by the power of wisdom).

Two — the support of thought (with what "mindful thought" one cultivates) is likewise of four kinds: the thought of faith (giving rise to faith toward the teaching that accords with the six perfections), the thought of savor (tasting the savor of the qualities within the six perfections), the thought of rejoicing (rejoicing in the six perfections cultivated by all sentient beings in all world-realms), and the thought of yearning (yearning after the yet more excellent six perfections of oneself and others in the future).

Three — the support of mind (with what "ground of mind" one cultivates) — this is the most essential of the five supports, and the one the treatise expounds most fully, holding six minds:

• The unwearying mind: giving and giving again, never satisfied. The treatise sets it off with an extreme comparison: though one were to give a single sentient being the seven treasures of world-realms as many as the sands of the Ganges, together with one's own body and life, instant upon instant, on to the very end of the realm of sentient beings, still the mind would not weary — all for the maturing of the unsurpassed awakening.
• The vast mind: from the first arousing of the mind, continuing on to buddhahood, without a single instant of break or decline.
• The mind of surpassing joy: the joy in giving to a person surpasses the joy of the receiver in getting the thing.
• The mind of gain: reckoning that "another receiving my benefit" is a better bargain than "my own enjoyment" — for benefiting others is precisely the cause of one's own buddhahood.
• The undefiled mind: seeking no repayment of kindness, seeking no fruit of recompense.
• The wholly pure mind: turning over even the merit-fruit one gains to sentient beings, and not taking it for oneself.

These six minds tell out the whole secret of great-vehicle giving: when the bodhisattva gives something away, he is more joyful than the one who receives it; he is reckoning the account of "benefiting others is self-benefit." And the treatise points out especially that these six minds belong not only to giving, but equally to discipline on up to wisdom — it uses a still fiercer comparison for the unwearying mind in "cultivating discipline and the rest": though there were selves as many as the sands of the Ganges, and each self had a life-span of Ganges-sand aeons, and in each life-span there lacked every means of livelihood, and moreover a mass of fire filled the whole trichiliocosm; the bodhisattva, with all these selves, through all these life-spans, amid this mass of fire, arousing the four dignified postures, would in a single instant cultivate but one precept of discipline, and so on to the end of all the stores of discipline and all the stores of knowledge — and the mind would still not weary. This is not the grim endurance of sacrifice; it is that unstoppable joy that comes once one has seen clearly that "to give away, to keep cultivating, is what real gain is."

Four — the support of skillful means: the three skillful means for cultivating the six perfections are "the purity of the three spheres" — that the giver, the receiver, and the thing given, all three spheres, are not discriminated. This purity is accomplished with "non-conceptual knowledge" as its means; with this means, every act of attention can be accomplished.

Five — the support of power is of three kinds: the power of the body (the Buddha's self-nature body and enjoyment body), the power of activity (the Buddha's emanation body — which by the emanation body, in every mark and for every sentient being, displays every good practice), and the power of speech (speaking every kind of the six perfections without impediment).

〔Here the text enters scroll eight〕

The sixth meaning — "the divisions": the "six meanings" of each perfection — taking them apart one by one

From here on (scroll eight), the treatise takes the six perfections apart one by one, dissecting each by the same set of "six meanings" (own-nature · cause · fruit · function · concomitance · classes). This is the finest-grained section of the whole chapter, and must be taught perfection by perfection, meaning by meaning:

The six meanings of giving (檀, giving): its own-nature is "giving to another" (giving one's own goods to a receiver); its cause is "concurrent thought" (the wholesome root of non-greed arising together with volition); its fruit is "the twofold accomplishment" (the accomplishment of wealth and the accomplishment of the person — the accomplishment of the person including the five matters of life, complexion, strength, ease, and eloquence); its function is "the twofold gathering" (fulfilling both the gathering of self and other, and the great awakening); its concomitance is "dwelling in non-stinginess" (settled in the heart of one who is not stingy); its classes are "the three of Dharma, wealth, and fearlessness" (the gift of Dharma, the gift of wealth, the gift of fearlessness).

The six meanings of discipline (戒, discipline): its own-nature is "the six limbs" (dwelling in full discipline, right down to fully receiving and training in the training-precepts); its cause is "extinguishing the bounds of existence" (keeping discipline in order to seek nirvāṇa and cross beyond the bounds of the several kinds of existence); its fruit is "the good destinies" (the good destinies and the five states of mind such as "non-regret," obtained through discipline); its function is "holding and the rest" — discipline has three capacities: it can "hold" (upholding every quality, like the great earth that bears up the ten thousand things), it can "still" (stilling the fever and heat of the afflictions), and it gives "fearlessness" (not giving rise to the conditions of any offense, so that there is nothing to fear from "committing an offense"); its concomitance is "the full store of merit" (doing good practice at all times by body, speech, and mind); its classes are "the twofold obtaining" (discipline obtained by receiving, which takes in the guard of the code of individual liberation; and discipline obtained by realization, which takes in the guard of meditation and the uncontaminated guard).

The six meanings of patience (忍, patience): its own-nature is the three of "not repaying, enduring, and knowing" — answering exactly to the three kinds of patience: not repaying is "patience toward being wronged by others," enduring is "patience in enduring suffering," and knowing is "patience in contemplating dharmas"; its cause is "great compassion and the reliance on Dharma" (the reliance on Dharma meaning receiving discipline and wide learning); its fruit is "the five virtues" (gaining little hatred and envy, not spoiling others' minds, gaining gladness and ease, no regret at the end of life, and after the body's breaking-up birth in the heavens); its function is "the twofold benefit" (the three patiences can accomplish self-benefit and benefiting others); its concomitance is "bearing the surpassing" (patience, because it is hard to practice, is the most surpassing); its classes are "those three kinds" (namely the three patiences above: toward being wronged, in enduring suffering, in contemplating dharmas).

The six meanings of vigor (進, vigor): its own-nature is "boldness in the good, in the right" (boldness that turns away from other actions is called "in the good," boldness that removes the outside ways is called "in the right"); its cause is "having faith and having desire" (faith and aspiration make vigor arise); its fruit is "the increase of mindfulness" (qualities such as mindfulness and concentration arise again through vigor); its function is "countering" (the one who arouses vigor gains a happy abiding and is unmixed with any evil); its concomitance is "possessing virtue" (possessing qualities such as non-greed); its classes are "those seven kinds" (the seven vigors of training in discipline, training in concentration, training in wisdom, of body, of mind, unbroken, and reverent).

The six meanings of meditation (定, meditation): its own-nature is "the mind's abiding" (the mind settled within); its cause is "mindfulness and vigor" (with mindfulness one does not forget the object, and in reliance on vigor concentration is made to arise); its fruit is "the arising of ease"; its function is "the supernormal powers and the abidings" — "supernormal" meaning the five supernormal powers, "abidings" meaning the three abidings (the noble abiding, the divine abiding, the pure abiding), meditation being able to make the five powers and the three abidings all masterful; its concomitance is "chief among all dharmas" (concentration is chief among all dharmas); its classes are "those kinds, three and again three" (one set being the three grades of with-application-and-examination, without-application-but-with-examination, and without-application-and-without-examination; another set being the three grades accompanied by joy, accompanied by ease, and accompanied by equanimity).

The six meanings of wisdom (慧, wisdom): its own-nature is "right discernment" (rightly discerning the world-transcending Dharma); its cause is "concentration's holding" (by concentration wisdom is held, and dharmas are understood as they are); its fruit is "good liberation" (good liberation from what is defiled); its function is "the life and the speaking" (unsurpassed right discernment being the "life of wisdom," and being able too to "speak well" the true Dharma); its concomitance is "chief among all dharmas" (wisdom being highest among all dharmas); its classes are "these too are of three kinds" (the three grades of right discernment: worldly, world-transcending, and the greatly world-transcending).

Why does wisdom alone bear the name "chief among all dharmas," such that the other five perfections must all follow its lead? 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 The Treatise on the Great Perfection of Wisdom supplies a ready comparison: "It is as with the born-blind — be they a hundred, or a thousand, or a hundred thousand, if they have no one to lead the way, they cannot make for the road or enter the city." The first five perfections, parted from wisdom, are "like the blind without a guide, unable to make for the road, unable to attain all-kinds-of-knowledge"; once they "have the perfection of wisdom to lead the way," these five are then "said to have eyes." Giving, discipline, patience, vigor, and meditation, though they be by the hundreds and thousands, without this eye of wisdom to lead the way, are a crowd of the blind that cannot find the city gate; let wisdom but lead, and these five open their eyes on the spot. This is where the phrase "wisdom is chief" comes to rest.

The six meanings of each of the six perfections dissected, one sees that each perfection is not a lump of undifferentiated good, but has its own nature, its own cause, its own fruit, its own function, its own companion, its own classes — this is dissecting the six perfections and showing them to the reader.

The seventh meaning — "the gathering of practice": all good dharmas gathered into three classes

Next the treatise gathers "all the pure and wholesome dharmas" (the several practices of giving and the rest) into three classes: the scattered, the concentrated, the both. The first two perfections (giving and discipline) take in "the scattered" (they can be practiced even with a scattered mind); the latter two (meditation and wisdom) take in "the concentrated" (they are accomplished only with a concentrated mind); the middle two (patience and vigor) take in "the both" (they run through both the concentrated and the scattered). By this threefold "scattered / concentrated / running-through," all good dharmas can be gathered in.

The eighth meaning — "countering obstacles": each perfection parts from "seven clingings"

Next comes "countering obstacles," but here the angle shifts — not merely countering the afflictions, but detailing more finely that each perfection must part from "seven clingings." Taking giving as the first example, the bodhisattva in the practice of giving parts from seven clingings: the clinging to wealth, the clinging to slackness, the clinging to bias, the clinging to repayment of kindness, the clinging to the fruit of recompense, the clinging of obstruction (meaning the "latent tendency of greed" that is to be countered but is not yet cut off), and the clinging of distraction (distraction being of two kinds: the "lower-minded distraction" that seeks the lesser vehicle, and the "discriminating distraction" that discriminates the three spheres). Parting from these seven clingings is what is called the "seven non-clingings."

And the other five perfections too each have seven clingings, and each parts from its own seven. One point here must be got clear: the first clinging of giving is "the clinging to wealth," but with discipline and the other four perfections, this "first clinging" is replaced by each one's own root obstacle — discipline parts from the clinging to breaking discipline, patience from the clinging to anger, vigor from the clinging to indolence, meditation from the clinging to the scattered mind, wisdom from the clinging to delusion; the rest — the "clinging of obstruction" (cutting off latent tendencies), the "clinging of discrimination" (not discriminating the three spheres), and so on — all six perfections alike must part from.

The ninth meaning — "the qualities": the fivefold quality, taught fold by fold

"The qualities" is the largest section of the ten meanings of the six perfections. The treatise sets it out in five folds: the quality of benefiting others, the summary statement of the four virtues, the quality of purity, the eightfold unsurpassed quality, and the distinctive uncommon quality of giving and vigor. Taught fold by fold:

One — the quality of benefiting others (one verse for each of the six)

Each of the six perfections has one verse disclosing its "benefiting others," and the verses run the same in structure: at all times practicing this one perfection, parting from every seeking of self-benefit, by this perfection establishing sentient beings in awakening, and holding it up with knowledge (or compassion) so that its merit is inexhaustible.

• Giving: at all times giving up body and life to give to every seeker, parting from the seeking of repayment and of a beloved fruit (with great compassion as its cause), by giving establishing sentient beings in the awakening of the three vehicles, holding it up with non-conceptual knowledge so that its merit is inexhaustible.
• Discipline: at all times guarding the threefold pure discipline (the discipline of restraint has "prohibiting and guarding" for its substance; the disciplines of embracing good and embracing sentient beings have "diligent boldness" for their substance), not clinging to "gaining discipline," nor seeking a beloved fruit… (the rest of the lines as above).
• Patience: at all times bearing every extreme wrong of every sentient being, not seeking repayment or a good destiny, not bearing out of dread or incapacity.
• Vigor: at all times cultivating vigor by the two natures of "great vow" and "diligent means," only in order to "slay the affliction-thieves of self and other" and to seek the unsurpassed awakening.
• Meditation: at all times cultivating by drawing in boundless concentration, yet "giving up the unsurpassed bliss of meditation and coming down to take birth in low and mean places" — why willingly take a lower birth? Because of great compassion.
• Wisdom: at all times understanding both "the true" (the mark of equality of the ultimate truth, the knowledge of the twofold no-self) and "the remaining objects" (the boundless distinctions of names and marks), and not clinging even to the Buddha's nirvāṇa (still less seeking birth-and-death).

Here the treatise adds the tightest of distinctions: the first five perfections are held up by "non-conceptual knowledge," and so their merit is inexhaustible right up to nirvāṇa without remainder; wisdom alone is held up by "great compassion," and so it never abandons sentient beings and its merit is inexhaustible — knowledge makes one not abide in birth-and-death, compassion makes one not abandon sentient beings.

Two — the summary statement of the four virtues

After the six verses that state benefiting others one by one, the treatise gathers them with one verse: each perfection alike bears "four virtues" — the vast quality (benefiting many sentient beings), the seeking-nothing quality (seeking no repayment), the most surpassing quality, and the inexhaustible quality. The first, second, third, and fourth lines of each of the earlier six verses disclose, in order, just these four virtues.

Three — the quality of purity (one for each of the six · the finest similes)

Next comes "the quality of purity," the section densest in comparison and most given to "turning things over," in the whole chapter:

• The purity of giving: the beggar has "three joys" toward the bodhisattva (the joy of getting to see him, of having his wish fulfilled, and of seeking to see and seeking fulfillment), and the bodhisattva, turning it over, also has three joys, and the bodhisattva's joy surpasses the beggar's — because the bodhisattva is full of great compassion.
• The purity of discipline: divided as "three of body, four of speech, three of mind," warding off the ten evils one by one — the bodhisattva out of compassion gladly gives away even his own body, his own wealth, his own retinue, so how much more would he refrain from committing the three bodily evils (killing, stealing, sexual misconduct)? Lying arises from the four causes of "self-benefit, benefiting others, dread, and seeking wealth," and the bodhisattva is without all four causes (not regarding body and life, viewing others as equal, parted from the five dreads, giving to all universally) — so what cause has he to lie? The bodhisattva benefits impartially — how should he slander with a double tongue; his great compassion dreads others' suffering — how should he speak harshly; he ever wishes to mature sentient beings — how should he speak frivolously; giving universally he parts from greed, in great compassion he parts from anger, well understanding dependent arising he parts from wrong views — so the three of the mind too are far parted from him.
• The purity of patience: toward one who harms him the bodhisattva turns the tables and forms the "thought of benefit" (this very one is my cause for accomplishing patience), and toward a matter of suffering he turns instead to the "thought of joy" (this is a cause of benefiting others). With neither a "thought of non-benefit" nor a place for a "thought of suffering" to arise, then toward whom would he raise patience, toward what matter would he raise patience? — this "no patience left to be patient with" is patience carried to purity.
• The purity of vigor: when the bodhisattva does hard-to-practice vigor for another, he does not even feel it hard — because the "thought of other and self" is already cut off, and at all times he "loves the other more than himself."
• The purity of meditation: with a contrast that "turns over three persons' meditation." Worldly meditation has "little bliss," the two-vehicle meditation has "the twofold self-bliss"; worldly meditation clings to the view of self, the two-vehicle meditation clings to nirvāṇa; worldly meditation falls back, the two-vehicle meditation runs out on entering the remainderless; the three persons' meditations each have the defilement of delusion or freedom therefrom. The bodhisattva's meditation turns every one of these over — much bliss, bliss of both self and other, no clinging, no falling back, inexhaustible, no delusion.
• The purity of wisdom: with a superbly beautiful simile of "light," setting the wisdom of three sorts of person side by side to be lit up all at once — the ordinary person's knowing is like reaching out a hand to touch a thing in the dark (getting little of the object, unclear, unsteady); the two-vehicle's knowing is like lighting two lamps in a room to see a thing (brighter, growing clearer, yet not utterly pure); the bodhisattva's knowing is like the great sun high in the sky, shining upon the ten thousand things (all-pervading, clear, utterly pure, beyond compare). From "groping in the dark" to "two lamps lighting a room" to "the bright sun at midday," the scale of wisdom grows fold on fold — what the bodhisattva seeks is not to light one more lamp, but to make a whole sun rise.

The six perfections cultivated to purity all have this same air of "turning things over": seeing loss as gain, suffering as bliss, giving as more joyful than getting, and the groping in the dark exchanged for the shining of the sun.

Four — the eightfold unsurpassed quality

The treatise then states, from another side, the "eight unsurpassables" of the six perfections: the reliance, the class, the condition, the dedication, the cause, the wisdom, the field, and the support. Still taking giving as the example, in answer to 〔how are these eight reckoned unsurpassed?〕 — giving is unsurpassed because it "relies on" the bodhisattva; giving's "classes" are three (the gift of goods that gives up body and life, the gift of fearlessness that saves from the dread of birth-and-death in the evil destinies, the gift of Dharma that speaks the great-vehicle teaching); giving's "condition" is aroused by great compassion; giving's "dedication" seeks the great awakening; giving's "cause" is the seed of the giving-acts of former lives, perfumed in; giving's "wisdom" contemplates the three spheres without discrimination by non-conceptual knowledge; giving's "field" has five persons (the seeker, the suffering, the one without refuge, the ill-conducted, the virtuous), and among them the "surpassing person of virtue" is unsurpassed; giving's "support" is three (inclination of faith, thought, and concentration). As with the eight unsurpassables of giving, so discipline and the other five perfections each have their eight unsurpassables — among which the "unsurpassed of classes" differs for each: for discipline it is bodhisattva discipline; for patience it is "the bodhisattva being able to bear one who comes to slay him, low and mean, weak and feeble"; for vigor it is "all that is to be countered being cut off"; for meditation it is bodhisattva concentration; for wisdom it is "taking as object the object of suchness"; while the "unsurpassed of the surpassing field," for discipline and the rest, is "the great-vehicle Dharma."

Five — the distinctive uncommon quality (giving · seven verses; vigor · six distinctions)

Last, giving and vigor each have a distinctive "uncommon" quality.

The uncommon of giving: the treatise, in a run of seven verses, paints the scene of "giving carried to the utmost" in full color: to make one sentient being gain ease, he willingly undergoes suffering himself for many aeons (because of "deep love," that is, great compassion); the beggar out of "self-benefit" wants to get every kind of thing, the bodhisattva out of "benefiting others" gives up all his hundred kinds; when giving up the body, by the purity of his heart-ground he even "feels no suffering" but gives rise instead to joy (this joy comes of "bearing suffering for another," and precisely shows the bodhisattva to be above the world-transcending); the beggar's joy in getting wealth "is not the great joy," the bodhisattva's joy in giving up the thing, which "outstrips" the beggar's joy, is the great joy; when the beggar has gotten everything he yet has wealth but "does not see himself rich," while the bodhisattva having given everything and being without wealth on the contrary "sees himself greatly rich" (showing the bodhisattva's wealth to be inexhaustible); when the beggar has gotten everything he gives rise to no "thought of great benefit," while the bodhisattva having given everything on the contrary gives rise to a "thought of great benefit" (showing the bodhisattva's great compassion). Most vivid is the last verse — the beggar takes things at the bodhisattva's place as freely as one plucks fruit by the roadside at hand, having whatever he wants, with no impediment at all (showing the bodhisattva's "non-clinging"). The ground-tone of this whole scene is "non-clinging": the bodhisattva clings not at all to the thing given, and so gives so freely. Real giving is not "cutting off what one loves through gritted teeth"; it is that love does not, at root, cling to the thing — the thing being like fruit by the roadside, never mine in the first place, the taker simply takes it.

The uncommon of vigor has "six distinctions": the surpassing, the cause, the reliance, the function, the kinds, and the countering.

• The three distinctions of the surpassing, the cause, and the reliance: vigor is the most surpassing among all good dharmas (the surpassing), is the unsurpassed cause (the cause), and is that on which the gaining of all good dharmas rests (the reliance).
• The distinction of function is seven: gaining a happy abiding in the present dharma, gaining worldly dharmas, gaining world-transcending dharmas, gaining livelihood, gaining "the moving and the still" (which is worldly, not ultimate), gaining liberation (cutting off the view of the body), and gaining awakening (the great awakening).
• The distinction of kinds is six, and the treatise deftly matches it onto the whole set of the factors of the path: the vigor of increase-and-decrease is the four right exertions (making evil decrease and good increase), the vigor of predominance is the five faculties (being predominant toward the Dharma of liberation), the vigor of casting off obstacles is the five powers (obstacles cannot obstruct it), the vigor of entering the true is the seven factors of awakening (established by the path of seeing), the vigor of the transformation of the basis is the eightfold noble path (the path of cultivation being the cause of the ultimate transformation of the basis), and the vigor of great benefit is the six perfections (self-benefit and benefiting others).
• The kinds again have "five differences": the great vow (the aspiration that sets practice in motion), setting-out in practice (the present practice of good dharmas), no-lowliness (gaining the great fruit, the low and mean substance being now gone), immovability (sufferings such as cold and heat cannot move it), and the unwearying (not being content with gaining little).
• Again, divided by "person," there are three kinds (by the three vehicles, as lower, middle, higher) and two kinds (the lower awakening relying on the two vehicles, the higher awakening relying on the great vehicle, corresponding to the lesser benefit and the great benefit).
• The distinction of countering: countering the four clingings of "clinging to wealth, clinging to affliction, clinging to weariness, clinging to contentment," and so gaining the four non-fallings-back.

The tenth meaning — "mutual disclosure": the four meanings by which the six perfections mutually complete one another

The last of the ten meanings is "mutual disclosure" — the six perfections are not six separate roads each going its own way, but rather complete one another mutually, in four meanings:

• Mutual inclusion: the gift of fearlessness includes the two perfections of discipline and patience (these two can give a person fearlessness); the gift of Dharma includes the two perfections of meditation and wisdom (these two can give a person the Dharma); the combined gift (the joint gift of wealth and Dharma) includes the one perfection of vigor (this one can practice the two gifts).
• Distinction: the six kinds, giving and the rest, are just the "six gifts" — the gift of giving, the gift of discipline, on to the gift of wisdom — all being the establishing of giving and the rest within the continuum of another.
• Reliance on Dharma: the several scriptures disclose the several meanings of giving and the rest, and the several meanings of giving and the rest disclose the several scriptures — including one another everywhere.
• Being a cause: giving is the cause of discipline and the rest (only one who does not regard wealth can keep discipline and the rest); discipline too is the cause of giving and the rest (only the monk who receives the guard can give up all he has and enjoy it; only one who dwells in discipline can be fully endowed with patience and the rest) — so the six perfections are mutually causes.

The four means of gathering: the four skillful means for drawing sentient beings in

Having finished the six perfections of ferrying oneself across (the ten meanings taught out), the treatise turns to speak of the "four means of gathering" (四攝) by which one gathers others in — these are the four skillful means by which the bodhisattva draws sentient beings in one by one. The four means of gathering too must be taught meaning by meaning:

The substance of the four means of gathering: giving, kind speech, beneficial action, and shared benefit. Giving is "impartial giving" (giving impartially); kind speech is "speaking to him" (speaking to him the meaning of the perfections); beneficial action is "establishing" (establishing sentient beings within the perfections); shared benefit is "practicing oneself" (having established another, practicing likewise oneself). Why are these four set up? — these are the "several skillful means for gathering others."

The nature of the four means of gathering (the four skillful means): giving is "the skillful means of drawing along" (starting the gathering in accord with another's body by the gift of wealth); kind speech is "the skillful means of drawing in" (making the ignorant and the doubting receive the meaning); beneficial action is "the skillful means of rightly turning" (making him turn and practice the several goods); shared benefit is "the skillful means of turning along" (the bodhisattva practicing himself as he speaks, so that sentient beings, seeing it, who before were unwilling to do good now do good along with him).

The function of the four means of gathering: this is the side of the four means of gathering where the sequence shows most — giving makes him "a vessel for the Dharma" (a person who lacks even basic enjoyment cannot take the Dharma in; only when one accords with his wealth is he fit to receive the Dharma); kind speech makes him "give rise to faith in the Dharma" (speaking the Dharma's meaning to him and cutting off his doubt); beneficial action makes him "give rise to practice of the Dharma" (leading him to practice in accord with the Dharma); shared benefit makes him "gain liberation" (by pure practice benefiting him over a long time). The four functions run in a line as "making a vessel → making faith → making practice → making liberation": first drawing a person near, then making him believe, then making him practice, and at last making him liberated. Among them "shared benefit" shows the most weight — it requires the bodhisattva to "do it first himself for others to see"; not standing on the bank and shouting, but jumping into the water to swim across alongside you.

The four means of gathering gathered into two: elsewhere the World-Honored One gathers these four into "two means of gathering" — the material and the Dharma. The material gathering takes in the first (giving); the Dharma gathering takes in the latter three (kind speech, beneficial action, shared benefit). Why can the Dharma gathering take in the latter three? Because "Dharma" is of three kinds: the Dharma-as-object, the Dharma-as-practice, and the Dharma-as-purifier, which answer in order exactly to the latter three means of gathering.

The kinds of the four means of gathering (the three benefits): the four means of gathering, by the persons gathered, are of three kinds, lower, middle, higher (gathering the persons of the three vehicles), and from this there are again three benefits — the gathering by a bodhisattva of the ground of understanding-and-practice is "doubly without benefit"; the gathering by a bodhisattva who has entered the great grounds (the first ground and above) is "doubly with benefit"; the gathering by a bodhisattva of the eighth ground and above is "purely with benefit" (surely able to bring sentient beings to accomplishment).

Exhorting the practice of the four means of gathering: whenever the bodhisattva would gather a following, in all cases he must rely on these four means of gathering as his skillful means — because they can accomplish the great benefit, are a means at ease and easy, and win the praise of all the buddhas.

The total gathering of the four means of gathering: these four means of gathering, throughout the three times, "have gathered, will gather, and now gather" all sentient beings, and so they are the very "road of maturing sentient beings," with no other road that can take their place (the other roads having no substance).

Conclusion: the summing verse — the six perfections and four means of gathering gathered into one verse

The treatise gathers the whole chapter at last with one verse: "non-clinging (giving), stillness (discipline), the power to bear (patience), boldness of intent (vigor), immovability (meditation), parting from marks (wisdom)" — the upper three lines sum the meaning of the six perfections; "and it gathers, gathers sentient beings" — the lower one line sums the meaning of the four means of gathering. The bodhisattva, by these six practices, practicing these four means of gathering, fulfills self-benefit and benefiting others. And so the whole treatise here states first the six perfections (ferrying oneself), then the four means of gathering (gathering others).

Seen whole, the Chapter on the Perfections and the Means of Gathering treats the two great matters the bodhisattva does — the "six perfections" by which he ferries himself across (which the treatise expounds thoroughly through the ten meanings: why they are six, what their character is, why this sequence, what the names mean, how they are cultivated, the six meanings of each, gathered into three classes, each parting from seven clingings, the fivefold quality, mutually completing one another), and the "four means of gathering" by which he gathers others in (their substance, nature, function, gathering into two, three benefits, exhortation, and total gathering — drawing sentient beings in by "making a vessel, making faith, making practice, making liberation"). The first is the bodhisattva's own road up the mountain; the second is the hand he turns back to draw others in; and running through both is still that one heart of "benefiting others is self-benefit."

To gather it in one line: the six perfections are the six roads by which the bodhisattva ferries himself across; the four means of gathering are the four skillful means by which he gathers others in; walking his own road his knowing is like the bright sun, giving to others he is as free as one plucking fruit by the roadside, and in drawing others in he always jumps into the water first, and swims to shore alongside you.

The Chapter on the Perfections and the Means of Gathering spoke of the six perfections by which one delivers oneself and the four means of gathering by which one gathers others; this chapter turns to something that looks ordinary yet carries great depth — making offering to the Tathāgata. When ordinary people think of offering, they think of setting out incense, flowers, and food; but the treatise opens up "eight kinds of offering," lifting the layers of this act one by one, and finally points out: the supreme offering does not lie in the offered things at all.

I. The eight kinds of offering: the seven layers of mind beyond the offered things

The treatise says that offering to the Tathāgata has eight kinds: by reliance, by thing, by conditioned origination, by dedication, by cause, by wisdom, by field, and by support. Look closely and one crucial thing appears — among these eight, only one, the "offering of things" (clothing, food, and the like), actually sets out any "objects"; the other seven all speak of "mind":

• Offering by reliance — within the mind one offers universally to all the Buddhas of the three times (past, present, and future);
• Offering by conditioned origination — one offers with a mind of deep and pure faith;
• Offering by dedication — one offers so as to fulfill the two stores of merit and wisdom;
• Offering by cause — one offers carrying the past vow "may I be born in a Buddha's age, that I may gain benefit";
• Offering by wisdom — in offering, one grasps none of the three, "I, the Buddha, and the offered thing," as real;
• Offering by field — one takes sentient beings as a field of merit, teaching them too to come and make offering and to plant roots of good;
• Offering by support — one offers in reliance on these eleven: on things, on reflection, on faith, on vow, on compassion, on patience, on practice, on right mindfulness, on right view, on liberation, and on reality.

So the true body of offering lies in "mind," not in "things." The offered thing is like an outer husk, and those seven layers of mind are the kernel within; the husk may be very thin (a single flower, a single fruit), yet the kernel may be very thick. Even one who could never afford a mountain of gold, if these several layers of mind are present, is making an offering of the finest kind. This very meaning is spoken in a single word by the Vimalakīrti Sūtra, Chapter on the Offering of Dharma, where a god says to Prince Moon-Canopy: "The offering of Dharma surpasses all offerings." The thing set out is, after all, only a thing; what can truly be offered up to the Buddha is the mind that understands the Dharma and practices the Dharma.

II. The two that matter most: the offering by wisdom and the offering by field

Among the eight, two are the most worth pondering.

The first is the "offering by wisdom" — "no discrimination in the three spheres": in offering, one does not grasp even these three matters, "I am making the offering, what is offered to is the Buddha, and what is offered are these things," as truly existent. One has offered, yet as though one had never offered — the mind keeps no record of the merit. This applies the "nothing to be attained" of prajñā to offering: it is not coldness, but non-attachment; and just because there is no attachment, this offering is clean, and immeasurable.

The second is the "offering by field" — "taking sentient beings as a field": the bodhisattva does not merely offer for himself, but also teaches sentient beings to offer together, planting roots of good for them in the field of the mind. This turns "offering" itself into the delivering of beings — one person's incense and flowers draws forth the roots of good in many others, like sowing seeds in a field, which grow and bear fruit of themselves. Offering carried to this point has become one with the benefiting of others.

III. The high and the low of offering: with conceit it is inferior, without conceit it is superior

The treatise further says that offering has various "varieties" (cause and fruit, inner and outer, coarse and fine, great and small, far and near). Among them the item "great and small" is the most thought-provoking — to judge whether an offering is "inferior" or "superior," one does not look at whether the offered things are many or few, but at whether there is "self-conceit": one who offers carrying the conceit "I have made an offering, how remarkable I am," even offering much, makes an "inferior offering"; one who lays down self-conceit and makes no discrimination in the three spheres, even offering little, makes a "superior offering."

This is exactly what is played out by the 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 of the "poor woman's single lamp" in the Sūtra on the Prophecy Conferred upon King Ajātaśatru: King Ajātaśatru lit lamps offered to the Buddha with a hundred bushels of sesame oil, towering and measureless; a poor old woman could only beg two coins, with which she bought a little tallow and lit a single lamp before the Buddha, yet she vowed for herself, "If in a future life I attain the Way as the Buddha has, may this tallow keep its light burning through the whole night without fading." When dawn came, the king's lamps had either gone out or burned dry, but "the single lamp lit by the old woman shone with a light especially bright, surpassing all the other lamps"; Maudgalyāyana raised his robe to fan it, and drew the whirlwind gale to blow upon it, yet the lamp only blazed the stronger. The king, uncomprehending, asked how it was that he had offered much and the old woman had offered little, yet she had received the prophecy; and Jīvaka answered plainly: "Though what the king did was much, his mind was not single; it does not match this mother's fixing of her mind upon the Buddha." Whether the things are many or few is not the crux; whether the "mind is single or not" is.

One may also borrow a single drop of water entering the ocean to feel this: a drop of water set in the palm, however bright, is only a drop; but once cast into the great ocean, it is as vast as the whole ocean. A great offering carrying self-conceit is that drop of water in the palm; a small offering with self-conceit laid down is the drop cast into the ocean — small, yet as vast as the very ocean of the Buddha's qualities.

IV. The supreme offering: the five intentions of one's own

Then, how must one make offering to the Tathāgata for it to be "supreme"? The treatise answers clearly: not in the offered things, but in the "five kinds of intention of one's own" — pure faith (giving rise to pure faith in the principle of offering that the Great Vehicle teaches), profound mind (nine minds: relishing, sympathetic rejoicing, aspiration, tirelessness, vastness, surpassing joy, surpassing benefit, non-defilement, and thorough purity), supernormal power (in reliance on the Ākāśagarbha and other concentrations), skillful means (embraced by non-conceptual knowledge), and harmonious union (uniting with all the great bodhisattvas in one fruit, entering all fruits).

The five together say, in the end, one and the same thing: the supreme offering is a "mind" that is at once faithful, profound, penetrating, skillful, and able to unite harmoniously with the assembly of the noble ones. Incense and flowers, food and drink, are no more than an occasion this mind borrows to make itself manifest.

Conclusion: the true offering lies in the mind, not in the things

Seen whole, the Chapter on Offering teaches this: offering to the Tathāgata has eight kinds, and among them only one actually sets out "objects," while the other seven are all "mind"; the two that matter most are the "offering by wisdom" (offering without grasping) and the "offering by field" (teaching sentient beings to plant roots of good together); in judging the high and low of offering one looks not at quantity but only at whether there is self-conceit; and the supreme offering is that mind of the "five intentions of one's own," at once faithful, profound, and skillful.

To close in a phrase: the true offering lies in the mind, not in the things — the offered thing is a husk, the mind is the kernel; when there is no discrimination in the three spheres, then a single drop enters the ocean, as vast as the Buddha's qualities; and the supreme offering was never the altar heaped high, but how pure the mind is that heaps the altar.

The Chapter on Offering told how one offers to the Tathāgata; this chapter follows straight on to speak of attending the good friend (善知識, the good teacher and good companion). Its frame reuses the "eightfold" pattern of the previous chapter (attending by way of the support · the material · the occasion · the dedication · the cause · the wisdom · the field · the reliance), but what truly matters in this chapter is that it opens by answering two questions: what kind of person one should attend (the ten qualities of a good friend), and why one attends, and how one attends well (for the Dharma, not for gain; the one without conceit prevails).

I. The kind of person worth attending: the ten qualities of a good friend

Tamed and still, afflictions cleared, virtue increased, possessed of courage, rich in the scriptures, awakened to the real, skilled in teaching the Dharma, deep in compassion, free from any flagging.

On the road of practice, keeping the right company matters more than anything. The treatise states it at the outset, listing the ten qualities that a good friend worth attending should possess. Sort the ten into three groups and they become clear:

• He has cultivated himself well: tamed (in accord with the precepts, his sense-doors already disciplined), still (in accord with concentration, his mind gathered within), afflictions cleared (in accord with wisdom, the afflictions already cut off), virtue increased (endowed with discipline, concentration, and wisdom, complete and lacking nothing) — these four qualities say that "he himself is one who has walked the road ahead."
• He can bring you along: possessed of courage (untiring and unwearied in benefiting others), rich in the scriptures (widely learned, with real substance inside), awakened to the real (truly understanding the ultimate truth, not merely mouthing it), skilled in teaching (teaching without distortion, explaining clearly) — these four qualities say that "he can set you on the road."
• He truly cares for you: deep in compassion (utterly without any wish for reward), free from flagging (willing at all times to teach reverently and without weariness) — these two qualities say that "he is for your sake, not his own."

A good friend is like one who has walked the road ahead, and a guide as well: he has himself walked this mountain path (the first four qualities), he knows the way and can lead others (the middle four), and he is willing to accompany you the whole way without seeking any return (the last two). To attend, attend such a one — this is the "standard for choosing a teacher" that the treatise gives.

Why then does choosing a teacher matter so much? There is a passage of dialogue in the Saṃyukta Āgama that says its weight best. The venerable Ānanda, in a quiet place, thought over and reflected that "the good friend, the good companion, the good follower" is already half of the holy life — half of the pure and holy life. He reported this thought to the World-Honored One, but the Buddha said: "Do not say so" — do not say it is only a half; "wholly and utterly pure, the holy life clean and white — this is what is meant by the good friend, the good companion, the good follower": to meet with a good friend, a good companion, a good follower is not half a holy life, but that on which the whole pure holy life hangs. Even Ānanda had priced the good friend at only half, and the Buddha corrected him at once — from which one sees that the weight of attending a good friend on the path can never be reckoned too high. The treatise's listing here of the "ten qualities" to teach how one chooses a teacher is just the unfolding of this same point: once the teacher is rightly chosen, the greater part of the road is already made. (Saṃyukta Āgama, sūtra 726, Chinese T02n0099.)

II. How one attends: body and mind in accord, lowering the mind and clearing away conceit

Having chosen the right person, how does one attend? The treatise says that "attending by way of the material" has three layers — the wealth (offering with reverence), the body (following and giving service), the mind (in giving service, body and mind in accord — not the person present while the mind is elsewhere); and that "attending by way of the occasion" also has three — glad aspiration (attending with genuine joy), knowing the timing (understanding the right moment), clearing away conceit (setting down arrogance, lowering one's bearing).

Of these, "body and mind in accord" and "clearing away conceit" show the real work: attending a good friend is not a matter of putting on a show and making a few offerings; it is a matter of the whole person — body and mind alike — drawing near, and setting down as well that trace of "I too have read a few books" pride. If the bearing is not lowered, the Dharma cannot come in.

III. Why one attends: for the Dharma, not for gain

Understanding well the three vehicles, bringing one's own vehicle to fulfillment, maturing beings and the pure land — for the Dharma, not for gain.

The eye of this chapter is in the closing line, "for the Dharma, not for gain." The treatise speaks of "attending by way of reliance" — the bodhisattva attends the good friend "taking the abundance of the Dharma's benefit as his reliance," not "taking the abundance of material benefit as his reliance": what he is after is to seek the Dharma, not the advantages the friend can give (name, gain, connections).

This can be felt through "seeking water when thirsty": one who is thirsty goes to find water, and what he wants is the water, not the golden cup or silver bowl that holds it; if he only fixes his eyes on that costly cup and forgets to drink the water, he has kept the casket and given back the pearl. Attending a good friend is likewise — what you want is the "Dharma" in his belly, not the "gain" on his person; to attend for the sake of the advantages, however diligently, is already to have gone astray. "Attending by way of dedication" says the same: not for craving after gain and honor, but only to accord with practice.

IV. The one without conceit prevails: setting down the pride of "I am attending"

Cause and effect, and the following of the Dharma, inner and outer, coarse and fine, superior and inferior, far and near — these are called the varieties of distinction.

The treatise says that attending too has its various distinctions (cause and effect, following the Dharma, inner and outer, coarse and fine, superior and inferior, far and near); and among these the item "superior and inferior" most bears self-warning — whether an attending is "superior" or "inferior" is judged by whether there is "conceit": attending with conceit is inferior, attending without conceit is superior.

This can be felt through the "empty cup": a cup already filled to the brim cannot take in even the finest tea poured in — it only overflows; one must first empty the cup, and only then can the new tea be poured in. To attend carrying the conceit of "I understand a fair amount" is to be that full cup — not a single drop of the good friend's Dharma can get in; set the conceit down, empty the mind out, and only then can one catch it. So the most skillful attending is first to turn oneself back into an empty cup.

As for what counts as the "supreme" attending, the treatise says it is the same as in offering — likewise the "five modes of one's own intent" (pure faith, deep mind, supernormal power, skillful means, harmonious union): in the end, the supreme attending too is a heart that is at once faithful, deep, and humble.

Conclusion: attend one who has walked the road ahead, and bring an empty cup

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on Attending the Good Friend teaches this: one should attend a good friend possessed of the "ten qualities" (one who has himself walked the road ahead, who can bring you along as well, and who truly cares for you); in attending, one must have body and mind in accord and lower one's bearing; the right cause for it is "for the Dharma, not for gain"; and its height or lowness turns on one thing only — whether one has set down the conceit of "I."

In a phrase: to attend a good friend is to go and find one who has walked this road ahead of you; and what you should bring is not the wealth on the offering table, but a heart that thirsts for the Dharma and a cup emptied out — the emptier the cup, the more Dharma it takes in.

"The divine abidings" (梵住, brahmavihāra) are the states of mind in which the bodhisattva dwells — that is, the four immeasurables (四無量): loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity. What is striking is this: though the four are set side by side, the treatise singles out compassion alone and spreads it out over one whole expanse — the greater part of the chapter is a discourse on great compassion. In the structure of the chapter, the living wellspring of the four immeasurables, the true engine of the bodhisattva's mind, is that one word "compassion." So the way to read this chapter is: first set firm the frame of the four immeasurables (the four marks, the three objects, the differences of practice and of kind, the five fruits, the mark of the bodhisattva, the obstacles and the faults, the qualities), and then follow "great compassion" all the way to the end — whom it takes as object, what fruit it wins, why it does not abide, how it grows up like a tree, and how it comes in person to teach the bodhisattva to give.

I. The four marks of the four immeasurables: on what does each of the four stand?

The chapter opens by asking a root question: these "four divine abidings" that the bodhisattva cultivates — what, after all, are they? The treatise answers with fine structure — each of the four immeasurables "has four marks apiece." That is to say, loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity each carry, all at once, four aspects:

• Countering an obstacle — each is meant to "counter" and cut off a certain obstacle (only when what it is meant to counter is cut off does that immeasurable truly stand firm);
• Joined with knowledge — each must be joined with non-conceptual knowledge (無分別智), for it becomes supreme by the countering power of that knowledge (not a lump of worldly good feeling, but a compassion joined with wisdom);
• Turning the object — the "object" it takes turns from shallow to deep, rising through three layers, "the object that is beings, the object that is dharmas, and the objectless" (this the next section treats in detail);
• Bringing beings to maturity — in the end it must come down to "maturing beings," truly benefiting them by performing all manner of surpassing deeds.

Hold these four marks in mind and the treatise's range of vision is clear: the four immeasurables are not four soft emotions but each carries a whole apparatus of "cutting off obstacles — joining with knowledge — turning the object — maturing beings." Beneath the single word "loving-kindness" stand these four pillars.

II. The three objects: how love is refined layer by layer — from "toward a person" to "the objectless"

The four immeasurables each have their counterpart: loving-kindness rouses the act of giving joy toward beings who seek joy; compassion rouses the act of drawing out suffering toward beings who bear suffering; sympathetic joy rouses the act of not turning away toward beings who have joy; equanimity rouses the act of causing to be free toward beings in whom the feelings give rise to afflictions. This is the most basic face of the four immeasurables — still turned toward one concrete person after another.

But the treatise at once points out the "three objects" that go from shallow to deep, and this is the first joint of the whole chapter:

• The object that is beings — still turned toward one concrete being after another (the four kinds of gatherings of beings: you, I, he);
• The object that is dharmas — a step further, where what is taken as object is no longer "a person" but "the very dharma of the four divine abidings" itself (the object is the dharma, not some particular person);
• The objectless — at last even the grasper and the grasped are dissolved, and there is only "suchness"; because it is "non-conceptual," it is named "the objectless."

This "objectless loving-kindness" reaches fullness only at the eighth ground, when one attains the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas — then "suchness is taken as object," and all roots of good are likewise made full and pure; and not the ground of mind alone is pure, but the afflictions gathered under the "actions of body and speech" on which that loving-kindness rests are exhausted along with it as well (when the object is cut off, the afflictions of the mind's own substance are cut off too, for their object has been severed). The treatise says this is taught already in the scriptures.

Following the three objects down, the purity of love is refined upward in just this way, layer by layer: from "I love this one person" (the object that is beings), to "what I take as object is the very principle of suffering" (the object that is dharmas), to "the I who can love and the he who is loved were never two" (the objectless). The highest loving-kindness is no longer an emotion "turned toward someone," but flows out of itself from suchness, without discrimination.

III. The differences of practice among the four immeasurables: which is to be dwelt in, which not?

Having set up the three objects, the treatise asks again: among these four divine abidings, what differences are there in "practice"? It answers, four kinds — moving, unmoving, devouring, not-devouring:

• Moving — this is "the portion that regresses"; this divine abiding can be lost, and so is called moving;
• Unmoving — this is "the portion that abides" and "the portion that surpasses"; it cannot regress, and so is called unmoving;
• Devouring — this is "defiled": it clings to the taste of the joy of meditation and has no great mind, and so is called devouring (gorging on the taste of joy as one gorges on food);
• Not-devouring — this is undefiled.

This passage carries a crucial discrimination: the bodhisattvas dwell only in "the unmoving" and "the not-devouring," not in "the moving" and "the devouring." Cultivating the very same loving-kindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity, the bodhisattva does not take up the kind that clings to the taste of meditation and can regress at any moment; only the kind that neither regresses nor is defiled is the bodhisattva's divine abiding. This also points ahead to the root of the later "beings who eat poison": clinging to the taste of meditation is precisely "devouring."

IV. The differences of kind: what is a "lower" divine abiding, what an "upper"?

Next the prose commentary asks about the differences of "kind" among the divine abidings — that is, given that they are all divine abidings, on what basis are they ranked high and low. It lists several kinds of "lower" in a row, then reverses them into "upper":

• The self-nature of "the non-concentrated stage," "the first six degrees," counts as lower;
• Of "the concentrated stage," "the first two degrees" (soft-soft and soft-middle) also count as lower;
• "The lower grounds" count as lower — meaning the bodhisattvas of the lower seven grounds, who, looking up toward the higher grounds, become "lower" on their own side;
• "The lower mind" counts as lower — meaning the śrāvakas (the listeners; the measure of their divine-abiding mind is small);
• "The resembling" counts as lower — meaning the bodhisattvas who have not yet attained the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas (only resembling, not yet the true).

Turn each of these "lowers" over and you have the "uppers." The passage looks like a heap of small items, but its sense is clear: divine abidings are coarse and fine, shallow and deep — the closer to non-regression, the closer to the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas, the closer to the great mind, the higher. The bodhisattva must know this measuring-stick and know which way he ought to go.

V. The five fruits: what five fruits does cultivating the divine abidings bear?

The treatise asks: cultivating these four divine abidings, how many fruits does one gain? It answers, "the full five fruits" — reckoning up the whole harvest of cultivating the divine abidings at one stroke:

• The fruit of recompense — birth among the beings of the desire realm (for the sake of delivering beings, one takes on a lovable recompense in the desire realm);
• The fruit of dominance — the "two stores," of merit and of knowledge, made full;
• The fruit of the great person — maturing beings (this is the deed a great person does);
• The fruit that is a support — in every place of birth one is never apart from the divine abidings (the divine abidings have become a support, carried along birth after birth);
• The fruit of separation — the place of birth is ever free of "those obstacles" (free of the four obstacles: hatred, vexation, sorrow, and desire).

The five fruits laid out in a row amount to saying: the one who cultivates the divine abidings gains this whole string — "birth in a good place, merit and knowledge both full, the power to mature beings, life after life never apart from them, and everlasting freedom from all obstacles." Cultivating the four immeasurables is not cultivating a lump of good feeling; it is cultivating out these five real fruits.

VI. The mark of the bodhisattva: how does one recognize a true bodhisattva at a glance?

The treatise asks: within these divine abidings, what matter counts as "the mark of the bodhisattva" (the sign of the bodhisattva)? It answers, two matters in which "the divine mind does not move":

• Though he meets some grave obstructing condition, his mind is in the end unchanged — however great the adversity bearing down, that divine mind does not change;
• Though he himself grows heedless (when the counteragent is not present), his mind too is unchanged — even when for a while he slackens and the wholesome dharma that could counter is not present, that mind is still unchanged.

The treatise adds a line by way of contrast: if even "in the time of heedlessness" it does not change, how much more when the four immeasurables are present and at full work — that need not even be said. This passage holds up a mirror: the mark of a true bodhisattva lies not in a good heart amid favorable conditions, but in this — that in the two worst times, grave obstruction and heedlessness, the divine mind still does not regress.

VII. The obstacles and the faults: if the divine abidings collapse, how far down do they crash?

Having set up the mark, the treatise turns to speak of "obstacles" — what blocks the divine abidings, and what disaster is born when they collapse. First the four obstacles: what the four divine abidings counter is precisely the four — "hatred, vexation, sorrow, and desire" (countering, in order, loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, and equanimity). Once these four obstacles are present, "the divine has no substance" — the divine abidings cannot stand at all; and not only can they not stand, they go on to breed many faults in a chain.

These faults the treatise sets out in detail at three layers, each reaching farther than the last:

• The three harms (harming right now) — once these afflictions arise, there are three harms: "harm to self" (rousing thoughts that work one's own suffering), "harm to others" (rousing thoughts that work others' suffering), and "harm to the moral discipline" (thoughts that work the suffering of both, wounding even the substance of the precepts).
• The six reproaches (drawing on reproach from six sides) — it draws on six kinds of reproach besides: "self-reproach" (inward sorrow and regret), "others' reproach" (loss of gain and support), "the gods' reproach" (loss of their protection), "the Great Teacher's reproach" (being forsaken by the Great Teacher), "the reproach of those of pure conduct" (being lawfully punished by wise practitioners of pure conduct), and "the reproach of people in the ten directions" (an evil name spreading abroad). From within one's own mind, the reproach reaches all the way to the gods, to the teacher, to the ten directions — there is no standing firm on any side.
• The three later faults (still undergone in a future life) — this deed drags on afterward too: "falling into calamity" (the evil deed drawing an evil recompense in a future life), "regression in practice" (the loss of present and future divine abidings), and "the arising of suffering" (great sorrow and suffering arising from that deed among the mental factors).

Read the three layers together and the treatise is sounding a warning: once the divine abidings are wrecked by hatred, vexation, sorrow, and desire, it is not one place that is wrecked — right now it harms self, harms others, wounds the precepts; in this life it draws down reproach from all four quarters; and in the life to come it still falls into calamity, regresses, and suffers — and so those four obstacles must be cut off, without fail.

VIII. The two qualities: what does the one who holds the divine abidings gain?

Having told the whole tale of the faults, the treatise asks in turn: then what is the "quality"? It answers cleanly — the one who dwells in the divine abidings gains two qualities:

• Casting off the afflictions — that whole long string of faults just told is left utterly behind (hatred, vexation, sorrow, and desire, all gone);
• Not casting off beings — for the sake of maturing beings, "birth-and-death cannot defile him" (he comes and goes in birth-and-death, and it does not stain him).

These two qualities, one positive and one negative, close up the passage before it just right: on one side he casts off the afflictions entirely, and on the other he will not, precisely, cast off beings. Casting off all that can be cast off, holding fast to what cannot — this is the virtue of the divine abidings.

IX. The love surpassing that for an only child: why is this quality called "most honored, most supreme"?

The treatise presses on with one more question: how do we know this quality to be "the most honored, the most supreme"? Here comes the chapter's first moving simile — the love for an only child:

As a man who has an only child, one both virtuous and dear, gives rise to extreme love, so the bodhisattva, toward all beings, gives rise to the divine [abiding], surpassing even that.

If a worldly man has "one only child," and that only child is virtuous and dear besides, his love thickens to the very extreme — the heart of parents in this world toward a single beloved child is already the deepest love there is. Yet the treatise says: the divine abiding the bodhisattva gives rise to toward "all beings" surpasses even that love for an only child. The world's thickest love is turned toward but one person; the bodhisattva's love is turned toward all people, and deeper and richer besides — "by its surpassing this comparison" is shown why the bodhisattva's four divine abidings are the most honored and most supreme. To cherish every being as one's own only child — this is the height of the quality of the divine abidings.

This simile of "the love for an only child" was, at root, a measuring-stick set down by the Buddha himself. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 In the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, Kāśyapa asks: toward one who breaks the precepts, commits the deeds of immediate retribution, and slanders the Dharma, how can one still give rise to "the thought one has for a son?" The Buddha answers with finality: "Toward all such, I give rise to the mind of compassion, the very thought one has for a son, as toward Rāhula." Rāhula was the Buddha's one and only son by blood, yet the Buddha says that even toward those beings hardest of all to cherish, he cherishes them just as he does Rāhula. The sūtra says again and again, "regarding beings with an equal eye, as one regards Rāhula." What the treatise's verse takes up is exactly this stick: the world's love for an only child is already the utmost, and yet the Buddha and the bodhisattva bestow this love for "the one and only child" equally upon all beings — not even the very worst excepted. The love for an only child is the peak of the world; the bodhisattva takes that peak, levels it out, and spreads it over all people, and so it is said to "surpass even that."

X. The ten kinds of beings that great compassion takes as object: on whom should love most be turned?

From here the whole chapter turns into a long paean to great compassion. The first question: on which people, exactly, does great compassion set its object? The treatise points to "ten kinds of beings," and this roster is telling in itself:

The blazing (those steeped in the defilement of desire); those the foe has beaten (who, when they cultivate the good, are obstructed by Māra); the suffering-pressed (fallen into the three lower destinies); the darkness-covered (who work evil yet do not recognize the recompense of deeds); those dwelling in danger (unwilling to seek liberation, unceasingly on the perilous road of birth-and-death); the greatly bound (the outsiders bound fast by all manner of wrong views); those who eat poison (who cling to the taste of meditation); the way-lost (the overweening, gone astray amid the true path of liberation); those dwelling off the way (unsettled within the lesser vehicle); and the lean-and-parched (bodhisattvas whose two stores are not yet full).

Look closely and it is plain: the ones on whom great compassion sets its particular gaze are precisely the most suffering, the most deluded, the hardest to deliver — the more steeped, the more perverse, the more self-certain, the more great compassion means to take them as its object. The line about "beings who eat poison" is especially bracing, and the treatise supplies its own simile for it: "Just as fine food laced with poison can then harm a man; so too with good meditation — clung to by craving, it is then lost." A fine dish is, at root, nourishing, yet once poison is mixed into it, however fragrant it still harms the one who eats; even the fine taste of meditation won by practice, once clung to, becomes an illness, becomes something lost. The eye of great compassion lets go not even this most subtle steeping. Even the one who "has cultivated well but clings to the taste of meditation" is on the roster great compassion means to save.

XI. The five fruits of great compassion: gain great compassion, and the Buddha is not far

The treatise asks: what fruit does great compassion gain? The answer is again "five fruits," but this time each is tied to great compassion, and it closes with one crucial line:

• The cutting off of obstacles is "the fruit of separation" (those obstacles cut off);
• Being a cause of awakening is "the fruit of dominance" (able to benefit beings, a cause of awakening);
• Giving joy is "the fruit of the great person" (to give beings joy is the deed of a great person);
• The lovable fruit is "the fruit of recompense" (gaining a lovable recompense);
• The self-flowing is "the fruit that is a support" (flowing on toward the future, a support for the surpassing compassion to come).

These five fruits "are all gained in dependence on great compassion." And so the treatise declares outright: one who has become such a bodhisattva is already not far from the awakening of the Buddha — great compassion is no small path winding slowly toward buddhahood; it is itself the road nearest to the Buddha.

XII. The non-abiding of great compassion: it dwells neither in nirvāṇa nor in birth-and-death

Birth-and-death has suffering for its substance, and no-self for its nature; he neither wearies of it nor is vexed by it — because of great compassion and surpassing awakening.

This is the most crucial "stance" of great compassion. All birth-and-death has "suffering" for its substance and "no-self" for its nature. The bodhisattva "knows this suffering as it is" and "wins the unsurpassed awakening of this no-self." By all reckoning, having seen through suffering and seen through no-self, he ought to weary of birth-and-death and enter nirvāṇa. But the bodhisattva, precisely, does not:

• By great compassion, he "does not give rise to weariness" toward birth-and-death (unwilling to cast off beings and leave first);
• By surpassing awakening, he "is not vexed by the afflictions" in birth-and-death (having already seen through, he takes no stain from them).

And so the bodhisattva falls into a marvelous position — he dwells neither in nirvāṇa nor in birth-and-death. To have seen through and yet not to leave is compassion; to be within it and yet unstained is awakening. Compassion and awakening joined together set the bodhisattva steadily in this one place of "non-abiding": neither going ashore to save himself alone, nor sinking under in suffering.

This posture of "non-abiding" has a most fitting simile in the Prajñāpāramitā. 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕 A verse in the Ratnaguṇasaṃcaya Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra says: "Like a good ferryman who saves and carries across, attached neither to the two shores nor to the midstream." A good ferryman is out on the river all day, carrying people across: he stops neither on this shore (birth-and-death) nor on the far shore (nirvāṇa), and lingers no more in the midstream — only, back and forth without cease, he ferries people over. Birth-and-death is this shore, nirvāṇa the far shore, and the bodhisattva is just like this ferryman: unwilling to go up onto the far shore alone and rest there (not abiding in nirvāṇa), and unwilling to sink on this shore and drift with the current (not abiding in birth-and-death) — right there "attached to neither of the two shores," he ferries beings across ever by great compassion. The line just above in the sūtra is precisely "he seeks not the peace of quietude" (does not covet the joy of nirvāṇa's quietude), and it answers exactly to this chapter's "because he is sovereign in compassion, he does not abide even in quietude."

XIII. The quality of great compassion: at the sight of suffering, "compassion's suffering" arises, yet he cultivates on without wearying

When he sees the very nature of suffering, knowing suffering, compassion's suffering arises; he knows too the means of relinquishing it, and cultivates on unwearied, never turning away.

The treatise states the quality of great compassion: the moment the bodhisattva "sees the very nature of suffering," at once "compassion's suffering" arises in him — seeing the suffering of beings, his own heart aches too. But he does not stop at the ache: at the same time he "knows the means of relinquishing (leaving) suffering," and seeks too to know it as it is; and having known, he "cultivates on unwearied." This is the virtue of great compassion — not that it is done with once one sees suffering and weeps, but that it aches at the sight of suffering, understands the method of saving from suffering besides, and is still willing to keep at it, on and on, without wearying. To ache and be able to save, to save and not to tire — only when all three are present is it called the quality of great compassion.

XIV. The four differences of great compassion: how does this compassion come to be?

The treatise asks: this great compassion — in order, from what several sources does it come? It answers, four kinds:

• Self-nature — it becomes "spontaneous" (needing no contrivance, flowing forth from one's very nature);
• Repeated discernment — it arises "from seeing the qualities and the faults" (the compassion born of discerning clearly the virtue of benefiting others and the fault of self-interest, and choosing accordingly);
• Habituation of past lives — it comes "from long cultivation in former lives" (perfumed and cultivated over many births, a root of compassion carried over from lives past);
• The cutting off of obstacles — it is made pure "by leaving desire and cutting off the vexing obstacle it counters" (the obstacle once cut off, the compassion is pure).

These four differences, in effect, lay open the compassion's provenance: some of it is one's very nature spontaneous, some born of seeing clearly what helps and what harms, some carried over by long cultivation in past lives, some shown forth once obstacles are cut — four roads meeting in one and the same great compassion.

XV. The six differences of great compassion: what does a full compassion look like?

The treatise sets it up next from the reverse side: turn over the six kinds of "what is not great compassion," and you have the six differences of great compassion —

• Impartial — toward all the feelings of all beings, "the joyful feeling and the rest," it knows "these are suffering" (even the one who seems to be enjoying pleasure — it sees the suffering beneath, and so treats all as one);
• Constant and enduring — even to "the nirvāṇa without remainder" it is without end (not a compassion of one moment, but a compassion unbroken all the way to the ultimate);
• Deep to the utmost — the bodhisattvas who have entered the grounds "gain the equality of self and other" (deep to the point where self and other are not two);
• Conforming — toward the suffering of all beings, "it saves and relieves in accord with reason" (saving in accord with the truth of suffering, not saving at random);
• The pure path — the "vexation" it counters is cut off (this compassion travels a pure path, unmixed with afflictions);
• Non-attained — when the forbearance of the non-arising of dharmas is won, "the dharmas are not to be attained" (at the deepest point, even the one who can be compassionate and the one toward whom compassion is felt are alike not to be attained).

Read the six together: true great compassion is impartial, long-enduring, deep to the point of the non-duality of self and other, saving in accord with reason, pure and unstained, and reaching even to the dissolving of both the compassionate and the object of compassion — a mind of compassion must possess all six of these faces before it is called full.

XVI. Great compassion like a tree: the whole bodhisattva path grows out of the single word "compassion"

The root grows, moistened by loving-kindness; the stem shoots up, made broad by the thought of joy; right mindfulness increases the branches; the continuity of vows lengthens the leaves; the inner condition forms the flower; the outer condition forms the fruit.

This is the loveliest passage in the chapter — the treatise draws great compassion as a tree, letting one see at a glance that the bodhisattva's whole practice grows, in fact, out of this one root of "compassion." It first lists "six matters" matched to "six stations": great compassion, patience, contemplation, the surpassing vow, surpassing birth, and maturing — set, in order, against the root, stem, branch, leaf, flower, and fruit of the tree. It then explains one by one why they generate each other so:

• Compassion is the root — "moistened by loving-kindness, it can make things grow": one who has loving-kindness, at the sight of another's suffering, gives rise to compassion's suffering; compassion takes root from here;
• Patience is the stem — "by the thought of joy it can shoot up": the bodhisattva turns the suffering of benefiting others into "the thought of joy," and once that thought of joy is born, patience shoots up and grows broad;
• Contemplation (the contemplation of benefiting others) is the branch — "by right mindfulness it can advance": patience once broad, one can rouse right mindfulness in the work of benefiting others, and the branches divide out;
• The vow (the vow for surpassing birth) is the leaf — "by continuity it can grow to fullness": the prior thought ceases and the next is born — just as leaves grow and fall, fall and shoot anew — and so the vow grows full in this continuity;
• Birth (the surpassing birth won) is the flower — "by the inner condition it becomes the fruit": one's own self matured, one's taking of birth is not in vain, and the flower opens;
• Maturing beings is the fruit — "by the outer condition it becomes the fruit": others' selves matured, the benefit is not in vain, and the fruit is set.

The treatise also asks this sequence deliberately in reverse, forcing out its necessity: without great compassion, one cannot rouse the patience for that "great, suffering, difficult practice"; without patience, one cannot rouse the contemplation of benefiting others; without contemplation, one cannot send forth the vow for surpassing birth; without the vow, one cannot proceed to the place of birth; failing to proceed there, one cannot mature beings. Link locks into link — the root not growing, the fruit is not set. And so the whole of the bodhisattva — patience, contemplation, vows, taking birth, delivering beings — traced to its ground, is all stem, branch, leaf, flower, and fruit grown from that single "root of compassion." Compassion is the lifeline of the whole tree of bodhisattva practice.

XVII. Praising the virtue of great compassion: amid suffering, on the contrary, a surpassing joy is born

The benefit that great compassion works — toward whom would one not give rise to it? Amid suffering, a surpassing joy is born; that joy is born by reason of compassion.

The treatise praises great compassion: the benefit great compassion works — toward whom would one not give rise to it? And most marvelous of all, the bodhisattva can, amid suffering, "give birth to a surpassing joy" — whence comes this joy? "That joy is born by reason of compassion" — it is precisely out of great compassion that it grows. This line first plants a hidden seed: suffering and joy, here at great compassion, turn face about; the passage below on "the supremacy of suffering" will speak this saying through.

XVIII. The non-attachment of great compassion: it will not abide even in the quietude of nirvāṇa

The bodhisattva, sovereign in compassion, will not abide even in quietude; as for worldly joy and body and life — how should such love arise in him?

The treatise compares three sorts of people: all worldly people "love worldly joy, love their own body and life"; the śrāvakas and pratyekabuddhas, though they no longer love worldly joy or body and life, still "give rise to a mind that clings and abides in nirvāṇa" (coveting that quietude). And the bodhisattva? Because he is "sovereign in compassion," he will not abide even in the quietude of nirvāṇa — how much less would he abide in those two loves, worldly joy and body and life? Layer rises above layer: the ordinary person covets worldly joy, body, and life; the two vehicles covet quietude; and the bodhisattva, by the power of great compassion, will not stay even in the highest "joy of quietude." Compassion sovereign, nothing at all can stick to him.

XIX. The supremacy of great compassion's love: on what does this "love" rest its supremacy?

Craving-love is not without obstacle; worldly compassion too is worldly; the bodhisattva's compassion-love arises with obstacles exhausted and going beyond the world.

The treatise establishes "the supremacy of compassion's love" on two senses — obstacles exhausted, and going beyond the world — and holds up other loves for comparison one by one:

• The "craving" that is love for kin and the like — its very substance is an obstacle;
• The "compassion" of worldly practice — its substance is not an obstacle, yet it is still worldly (it has not gone out beyond the three realms).
• Only the bodhisattva's "compassion-love" is in its very substance both "obstacle-exhausted" and "world-transcending," and so it is supreme.

The treatise then sets out a question and answer, making these two senses concrete, each with its own simile:

• How is its "obstacle-exhausted" seen? — "Suffering, and lack of wisdom; a great ocean, and a great darkness; relieved and saved by the means": the "suffering" of beings is like a great ocean, their "lack of wisdom" like a great darkness; and the means that can "relieve and save" within this ocean of suffering, this night of darkness, is precisely great compassion. Once this compassion-love is set to relieving the ocean of suffering and illumining the night of darkness, the obstacles are naturally exhausted — however deep the ocean of suffering, it ferries across; however dark the ignorance, it illumines.
• How is its "world-transcending" seen? — "Even the arhat and the pratyekabuddha have no such compassion-love": even the arhat and the solitary awakener have not this "great compassion-love" — how much less could any of the rest of the world have it? Since even the sages of the two vehicles lack it, this compassion-love has of course "gone beyond the world."

Join the two similes: the bodhisattva's love is a love that can ferry across the ocean of suffering and pierce the great darkness of ignorance; a love that not even the arhat or the pratyekabuddha has — and so it is called supreme, both obstacle-exhausted and world-transcending.

XX. The tirelessness of great compassion: to shoulder another's suffering, from fear to delight

The bodhisattvas who have gained compassion, in relinquishing suffering, on the contrary take on suffering; at first, they fear that arising of suffering, but at the time of realization, their delight and joy are deep indeed.

Here is hidden a most subtle turn of great compassion. The bodhisattva, in order to "relinquish another's suffering" (to lift the suffering off beings), "takes on his own suffering" (himself, on the contrary, shouldering suffering). And toward this "self-invited suffering" the bodhisattva's frame of mind before and after is utterly different:

• At first, fear at the arising of suffering — "at first" means the bodhisattva on the ground of faith-and-practice, who, facing this self-invited suffering, still grows "timid and afraid." Why afraid? Because he "has not yet seen the equality of self and other, has not yet tasted suffering through as it truly is" — a layer still divides him, and so he fears.
• At the time of realization, delight and joy deep indeed — "the time of realization" means the bodhisattva on the ground of the purified mind, who, facing the very same suffering, gives rise on the contrary to "extreme delight and joy." Why delight? Because he "has already seen the equality of self and other, has already touched suffering through as it truly is" — thoroughly clear now, so this suffering turns into joy instead.

The one and the same suffering shouldered for another — before realization he fears it, after entering realization he loves it. This is the secret of great compassion's "tirelessness": reaching the point of seeing self and other as not two, he no longer wishes to dodge even suffering, but on the contrary gladly shoulders it.

XXI. The supremacy of great compassion's suffering: the suffering shouldered for another, on the contrary, surpasses all joy

Compassion's suffering is the rarest of all; that suffering surpasses all joy, for it is a joy born of compassion — hard to have even accomplished, how much more the rest.

Carrying on from the passage above, the treatise pushes this matter of "suffering turning into joy" to the very extreme. What is called "compassion's suffering" is "great compassion born from another's suffering, and one's own suffering born from great compassion" — this suffering born of a compassionate mind is "the rarest of all" (the world can find nothing rarer than it). And it "surpasses all joy": this compassion's suffering, on the contrary, surpasses all the joy of the world.

Why? "For it is a joy born of compassion" — these bodhisattvas, on the contrary, "take compassion's suffering for their joy," precisely because this suffering grows out of great compassion. The last line, "hard to have even accomplished, how much more the rest": even the one for whom "the joy's work is already accomplished" (that is, this joy in its unmatched fullness) is hard to have — how much more could any of the rest of the world have it?

This answers exactly the hidden seed planted earlier at "amid suffering a surpassing joy is born": this is the flavor found only when great compassion is refined to the extreme — what others' eyes see as bringing suffering on oneself is, to the bodhisattva, the highest joy in the world; suffering and joy, here, turn face about.

XXII. The supremacy of great compassion's giving: giving arises together with compassion, and the joy is beyond compare

When giving arises together with compassion, it can make the bodhisattva joyful; of all the joyful feelings in the three realms, not one part compares to this.

The treatise says: if "giving" arises together with "great compassion," it can rouse the bodhisattva's surpassing joy; and of all the joys done throughout the three realms, held up against this "joy that great compassion and giving work," not even one part resembles it. This pushes the last passage — "compassion's suffering becoming joy" — one step further: when the compassionate mind is transformed in turn into giving that benefits others, that joy is beyond what any joy of the three realms can match.

XXIII. Great compassion's endurance of suffering: not casting off birth-and-death, precisely because he does not cast off beings

Birth-and-death is of the nature of suffering; he does not cast it off, by reason of compassion; the suffering he takes on is a cause of benefiting others — how could he cast it off and not cultivate it?

The treatise says: all suffering is gathered up within "the suffering of birth-and-death." The bodhisattvas "do not cast off birth-and-death," precisely "by reason of great compassion." And this "taking on of suffering" by the bodhisattva (shouldering suffering of his own accord) is at root "a cause of benefiting others." So the bodhisattva, in the very time he does not cast off birth-and-death, is in fact not casting off all suffering — this suffering, shouldered out of compassion and able to benefit others, how could he cast it off and not cultivate it? This passage joins "not abiding in birth-and-death" to "the endurance of suffering": the bodhisattva does not merely bear the suffering of birth-and-death — rather, because this suffering can benefit others, he is on the contrary willing to cultivate it, unwilling to cast it off.

XXIV. The fruits of great compassion's giving: a single compassion grows three fruits and three joys

Compassion, giving, and wealth — the three fruits; the compassionate one ever increases them, with the joy of love, the joy of gathering, and again the joy of sustenance — three joys.

The treatise says great compassion can "ever increase" three fruits, generating each other link by link:

• Increasing compassion — by cultivating without cease, it can make the substance of compassion increase;
• Increasing giving — by being sovereign in compassion, it can make giving increase;
• Increasing wealth — by being sovereign in giving, it can make one's material wealth increase.

And from these three fruits three joys are born besides:

• With "compassion" for cause, there arises the joy of love;
• With "giving" for cause, there arises the joy of gathering (the joy of gathering beings in);
• With "wealth" for cause, there arises the joy of sustenance (the joy of sustaining beings).

Read the three fruits and three joys together: compassion grown makes giving grow, giving grown makes wealth grow, and compassion, giving, and wealth each in turn give birth to a joy of benefiting others — a single mind of compassion rolls out for itself a whole string of fruits and joys.

XXV. Great compassion's urging: great compassion, like a teacher, urges the bodhisattva to practice six matters

Compassion lengthened and giving increased, maturing of beings, and the arising of joy; drawing hither, and again carrying thither — thus does great compassion urge.

From here the treatise lets "great compassion" appear in person and preach, like a teacher opening his mouth to the bodhisattva. First "the urging" of six matters, as if great compassion said: Bodhisattva — "You cultivate me, and make me grow; you relinquish your material wealth, and make giving advance; you should mature beings by giving; you should make your own joy arise by giving; if you give, you draw hither the two stores (of merit and knowledge) of great awakening, making them come toward yourself (drawing hither); if you give, you carry these two stores away toward great awakening, making them go toward it (carrying thither)." — In one "drawing hither, carrying thither," both directions of giving are spoken: giving both draws merit and knowledge onto oneself, and pushes them off toward great awakening.

XXVI. The supremacy of great compassion's joy: taking another's suffering as one's own suffering, the joy of giving is one's own joy

The sufferer, compassionate toward all sufferings — not giving, how should he have joy? Because it makes his own joy arise, the joy of giving draws out another's suffering.

Great compassion goes on to speak the principle of "the supremacy of joy": the bodhisattva "gives rise to all sufferings out of compassion," and so is called "the sufferer." But being a sufferer, "not giving, how should he gain joy?" Because in his great compassion the bodhisattva "takes another's suffering as his own suffering" — another's suffering is his own suffering. And so conversely, at the very time the bodhisattva "gives joy and draws out another's suffering," he is "making his own joy": having given beings joy and drawn out their suffering, his own joy too is accomplished. Another's suffering is my suffering, and so another's joy is my joy — this is the "supremacy of joy" of great compassion.

XXVII. Great compassion teaching giving: great compassion teaches the bodhisattva how to give, line by line (six laws)

Next the treatise uses a run of verses to let great compassion, like a teacher, teach the bodhisattva to give, line by line. This "teaching of giving" is six laws — one in spirit throughout, yet each with its own stress:

• Giving without seeking — "give to him, seek nothing for yourself": great compassion says, when you give to another, seek not your own ease; if the other has no joy, you have no joy either (for joy is without distinction). Even the fruit of recompense won by giving you should "vow not to receive," and should there truly be a fruit, take it and give again.
• Giving of the fruit of giving — "give universally to all": both the giving and the fruit won by giving, give them universally to all beings. Why? "Because the compassionate one takes another's joy for his own joy" — and so whatever fruit of giving the bodhisattva has, he ought to give it all to all beings.
• Giving in weariness of wealth — "the more it comes, the finer it comes": if one gives in weariness of material wealth, this person, though he desires no wealth, has wealth come of itself (by the great mind — the principle is utterly broad and marvelous); come, it is given again, and so wealth comes and comes again, and the bodhisattva gives and gives again. Why? Not seeking his own ease, but wishing to make giving "roll on without end."
• Giving without interval — "give exhaustively and give constantly": give to the full of what one has, give constantly, in unbroken continuity; and "take heed, seek not the fruit of giving."
• Giving without weariness — "not one instant without giving": were I not to delight in giving, there would be a time of "having the fruit of giving yet not giving"; but the bodhisattva has never for a single instant been apart from that "love of the delight of giving," and so his giving is without interval, without weariness.
• Giving that casts off gratitude (the most crucial of all) — "you are not like me": the bodhisattva says to "giving": if only when a person practices you (makes offering to you) do you then give him a fruit, that is your fault of "awaiting a repayment of kindness" — here you are unlike me; and again: if, when a person practices you, you give a fruit only to "this one person," then you are one who "awaits a repayment of kindness," whereas I give the fruit of giving to "all beings" — here too you are unlike me.

The spirit of the six laws is one and the same: true giving is not for one's own ease, seeks no repayment, singles out no object, will not stop its hand, has never had a break, and awaits no return of kindness. And running through them all is still that word "compassion" — precisely because he takes another's joy for his own joy, he can give in this way: without seeking, without end, without waiting.

XXVIII. Great compassion's practice of giving: the six ways giving is done rightly, and "exhaustive, broad, excellent, constant, joyful"

Having taught "how one should set the heart in giving," the treatise speaks next of "the practice of giving" — the several points, on the side of the act, that must be right when one gives it out:

• Without obstruction — not seizing another's goods in order to give;
• A pure line of conduct — giving with "wealth that is according to the Dharma," not giving poison, weapons, liquor, and the like;
• Benefiting the other — when gathering another in by giving, placing him upon the roots of good;
• Measuring oneself — when giving, also not letting one's own dependents fall into want (giving within one's measure);
• Without seeking — seeing beings in want (whether they seek with no mind to, or seek with no word), one gives of oneself naturally, and singles out no field of merit;
• Without attachment — seeking no repayment of kindness and no fruit of recompense.

The treatise then adds a further set of virtuous marks of giving — "exhaustive, broad, excellent, constant, joyful, unattached, pure": "exhaustive" is to give things both inner and outer; "broad" is to give many things; "excellent" is to give fine things; "constant" is to give ever; "joyful" is to give free of hatred (when the beggar does what is not helpful, one still endures it and gives with joy); "unattached" is to be without expectation (as with "without attachment" above); "pure" is to be according to the Dharma (as with "a pure line of conduct" above). And all this giving is "turned over to two places" — turned over to great awakening, and turned over to the roots of good. Giving done without obstruction, pure, within one's measure, singling out no one, seeking nothing — all of it gathered back in the end into awakening and the roots of good: this is the giving that great compassion practices.

XXIX. The difference in great compassion's enjoyment: the joy of using for oneself is not the joy of giving to others

Having wealth and using it oneself, and using it to give to beings — gaining joy, the joy of giving is supreme, for three joys nourish the mind.

The treatise draws out a contrast: the bodhisattva who has wealth gives rise to joy when he "uses it for himself," and gives rise to joy too when he "takes it to give to beings" — and holding these two joys up against each other, the "joy of giving" is the more supreme. Why? Because "three joys nourish the mind": within the joy of giving are three joys — "the joy of giving, the joy of gathering the other in, and the joy of the fullness of the store of awakening." The joy of using for oneself nourishes only oneself for a moment, while the joy of giving to others nourishes all three of these joys at once — and so the joy of giving surpasses the joy of using for oneself.

XXX. Great compassion increasing the perfections: compassion for the six-veiled makes the six perfections increase

Stinginess, wickedness, hatred, heedlessness, attachment to conditions, and wrong attachment — such are the six-veiled, and compassion makes the six perfections increase for them.

The treatise says beings are ever obstructed by "the six veils": "stinginess" (unable to give even a little thing), "wickedness" (breaking the precepts and troubling others), "hatred" (giving rise to great hatred at the least thing that goes against them), "heedlessness" (not diligent in the wholesome dharmas), "attachment to conditions" (the five desires disordering the mind), and "wrong attachment" (the outsiders, without wisdom). These six veils block, precisely, the six perfections (giving, discipline, patience, vigor, meditation, wisdom). And what does great compassion do? — it "has pity" on these veiled people, "expounds their faults for them," and so on the contrary makes those six perfections increase one by one. The six veils are at root obstacles, yet great compassion pities them and expounds to them, and so turns the six obstacles into conditions for nourishing the six perfections — this is yet another marvelous use of great compassion.

XXXI. Great compassion arising from four conditions: how does this compassion come to arise?

Suffering, joy, and neither-suffering-nor-joy; the power of the cause, and the good friend; the flowing-on of its own substance in continuity — these are the sense of great compassion's four conditions.

The treatise matches the "arising" of great compassion to the four conditions (the four conditions for the arising of any dharma):

• The object-condition — "suffering, joy, and neither-suffering-nor-joy": all three feelings, all three sufferings, can arouse compassion (even toward beings who seem to have "joy" or "neither-suffering-nor-joy," the bodhisattva sees their suffering and gives rise to compassion). Should someone ask: how is the feeling of equanimity (neither-suffering-nor-joy) also suffering? The answer: by reason of "the suffering of formations" (the ceaseless flux, which is itself suffering).
• The cause-condition — "the power of the cause" (the inner power of the seed of compassion);
• The dominant-condition — "the good friend" (the aiding condition of the spiritual guide);
• The immediate-condition — "the flowing-on of its own substance in continuity" (the prior thought drawing on the next, the mind of compassion arising in continuity).

With the four conditions matched up, it is made clear that great compassion does not arise out of nowhere: it arises taking beings of the three feelings as object (the object), relying on the inner seed of compassion (the cause), by the drawing-along of a good friend (the dominant), and thought upon thought in continuity (the immediate).

XXXII. The impartiality of great compassion: how does this compassion achieve "regarding all with an equal eye"?

Its aspect and its contemplation, its conforming and its freedom from obstacle, its non-attainment and its purity — in six senses is compassion impartial.

Great compassion once arisen, the treatise asks: how does it "gain impartiality" (truly regard all with an equal eye)? It answers with six senses:

• Impartial in aspect — toward beings in the "three positions of feeling" (suffering, joy, neither-suffering-nor-joy), it impartially "knows these are suffering" (seeing the suffering even in the one enjoying pleasure);
• Impartial in contemplation — pitying impartially (favoring not one over another);
• Impartial in conforming — saving and relieving impartially (saving in accord with reason, singling out no one);
• Impartial in freedom from obstacle — free of vexation impartially (toward none does it mix in affliction);
• Impartial in non-attainment — "self, other, and compassion," the three spheres, impartially not to be attained (the I who can be compassionate, the other toward whom compassion is felt, and the compassion that arises — all three dissolved);
• Impartial in purity — at the eighth ground, at the forbearance of the non-arising, it is gained impartially (the most ultimate impartiality).

Read the six senses together: the "impartiality" of great compassion is an impartiality that sees suffering alike in the objects of suffering and of joy, pities and saves all beings alike, and dissolves besides the three spheres of the compassionate and the object of compassion — not a bowl-of-water-held-level forced on the surface, but an impartiality thoroughgoing from the view to the realization.

XXXIII. Cultivating it to the unsurpassed: how are the four divine abidings cultivated to their highest?

Loving-kindness and the rest, made unsurpassed — the self-intent cultivation is likewise five: faith of mind, the supernormal, and the means, and union — as stated before.

At the very end of the chapter, the treatise gathers back the total method of cultivating the four divine abidings. It says: just as before, when speaking of "making offerings to the buddhas and attending the good friend," so too the divine abidings must rely on "five kinds of self-intent cultivation" to be made "unsurpassed":

• Pure faith — giving rise to pure faith in the divine abidings as taught in the Mahāyāna scriptures;
• A profound mind — cultivating the divine abidings with "the nine kinds of mind";
• The supernormal — cultivating in reliance on "the concentration on space and the like";
• The means — being held by "non-conceptual knowledge" (not apart from non-conceptual knowledge);
• Union — "entering all fruits by a single fruit" (a single fruit gathering in all fruits, fused without obstruction).

When these five are complete, the four immeasurables are cultivated to the unsurpassed. Setting out from pure faith, working with a profound mind, relying on the supernormal and non-conceptual knowledge, and at last a single fruit gathering in all fruits — the divine abidings reach here their ultimate fullness.

Conclusion: the four immeasurables are one mind, great compassion its one root

Taking the whole chapter together, the Chapter on the Divine Abidings speaks of the four immeasurables in which the bodhisattva dwells (loving-kindness, compassion, sympathetic joy, equanimity) — from the four marks, the three objects, the differences of practice and of kind, the five fruits, the mark of the bodhisattva, to the four obstacles and their faults and the two qualities, it sets the frame firm; and it takes great compassion alone for its heart, spreading out all along its reach (the ten kinds of beings), its five fruits, its non-abiding, its qualities, its four differences, its six differences, its likeness to a tree, its non-attachment, the supremacy of its love, its tirelessness, the supremacy of its suffering, the supremacy of its giving, its endurance of suffering, and the fruits of its giving — down to great compassion coming in person to teach the bodhisattva to give without seeking and without waiting, to practice giving, and to increase the six perfections, closing at last with the "five kinds of self-intent cultivation" that cultivate it to the unsurpassed.

To gather it in one line: the four immeasurables are the bodhisattva's one mind, and great compassion is the one root of that mind — from the root grow the fruits of patience, contemplation, the great vow, taking birth, and maturing beings (as with that tree of compassion); it takes as object the most suffering and most deluded of people (even the one who clings to the taste of meditation — like fine food laced with poison — is to be saved); it can ferry across the ocean of suffering and pierce the great darkness of ignorance (a love not even the arhat or the pratyekabuddha has); and its deepest secret is this: the suffering shouldered for another, in the end, surpasses all joy — suffering and joy, here at great compassion, turn face about.

This is the longest chapter in the whole treatise (spanning scrolls ten and eleven). Following the chapter's sequence, this exposition discusses its principal factors of the path and the two arguments in its latter half.

"Factors of awakening" means the provisions for awakening, the many gates of practice that turn toward enlightenment (bodhi). This chapter is like a vast storehouse of the factors of the path: the first half sets out, one item at a time, the tools the bodhisattva needs on the road to buddhahood (from "conscience" all the way through the thirty-seven factors of awakening, tranquillity-and-insight, the three samādhis, and the four seals of the Dharma); the second half then sets out the treatise's two arguments for impermanence (momentary cessation) and no-self (the no-self of persons). The first half lists the factors of the path, and the second develops those two arguments. This exposition reports their structure without independently adjudicating the theses. Within the treatise's own sequence, the reader may follow how the gates of practice lead into the later arguments for momentary cessation and no-self.

I. Setting out from "conscience": a robe, a stretch of space, a mother

The whole chapter sets out from a plain word — conscience (慚, the mind that feels abashed at wrong). Why should the storehouse of the factors of the path begin from conscience? Because conscience is the bedrock of practice: only one who has conscience is willing to cut off evil, willing to turn back. The prose commentary first takes the "character" of conscience apart into four aspects: its self-nature is "counteracting the obstacle" (counteracting that shamelessness which feels no such abashment at all); its kindred is that it operates together with non-conceptual knowledge (conscience is not a coarse self-reproach, but goes hand in hand with wisdom); its object-realm is "taking the two vehicles — narrow and free of obstacle — as an object of conscience" (when the bodhisattva sees the listeners (聲聞, śrāvaka) and solitary awakeners (緣覺, pratyekabuddha) seeking only their own release, a thought of conscience arises — "how could I stop here?"); and its function is "maturing sentient beings." One word, "conscience," and all four sides are lit up.

Then the prose commentary asks: where does this conscience arise? The answer is very down-to-earth — it arises upon the six perfections (六度, pāramitā): conscience stirs when the obstacle grows, conscience when the counteracting force wanes, conscience at slackness in cultivating the perfections, conscience when, following the afflictions, "the faculties are ever open and unguarded." The practitioner knows these four moments best: when the work has slipped, when bad habits have grown, when one has idled at the very time one should exert oneself, when the six faculties have run loose — a person with conscience can sit still at none of these four. Conversely, "non-conscience" is the obstacle to conscience, and the prose commentary counts out in detail the twelve faults it brings on in train: the afflictions are not cut off, so it first breeds three harms (harm to self, harm to others, harm to both — where even the bodhisattva's "abandoning beings and not converting them" counts as harm to others), then invites six reproaches, and finally falls back into hard places, loses wholesome dharmas, and gives rise to great suffering. Spreading out the ruin that non-conscience leads to is precisely a way of setting off, by contrast, how precious conscience is.

For the virtues of conscience the prose commentary sets four comparisons in a row, exceedingly fine:

• Conscience is like a robe — with conscience, filth cannot cling (it counteracts the afflictions that lodge upon the body);
• Conscience is like space — with conscience, the world's praise and blame, fame and slander, cannot stain (as space cannot be sullied, so, though one meets the eight worldly dharmas, one is not defiled);
• Conscience is like an adornment — with conscience, a person becomes upright and dignified (in keeping with one's fellow-travelers);
• Conscience is like a loving mother — with conscience, one cherishes sentient beings as a loving mother cherishes her child (maturing sentient beings).

A person with conscience wears a robe that takes no filth, has a heart like a stretch of space that cannot be sullied, bears himself as though adorned, and treats others as a loving mother. The starting point of practice turns out to be this warm and gentle. And the "character of conscience in action" is only four phrases: toward every evil, "not to bear it, not to do it"; toward every good, "to bear it, to do it" — conscience is not idle remorse, but really going and cutting off evil and cultivating good.

II. Fearlessness: what cannot be shaken, as the wind of a cricket's wing cannot move Sumeru

Having readied conscience, this underrobe, the bodhisattva still needs one more capacity — fearlessness (無畏). On the bodhisattva-path there are hard passes at every turn, and fear makes one unable to go on. Where does fearlessness come from? The prose commentary says it plainly: it arises from the three — vigor, concentration, and wisdom. (The ancient masters, in commenting on the Yogācārabhūmi, also cite this very verse of the present chapter, taking "arising from the three, vigor-concentration-wisdom" as the substance and character of fearlessness, in accord with what this treatise states.) Why does the bodhisattva grow afraid? Because the mind is "low, agitated, and dull" — when the mind sinks low (unwilling to exert itself), grows agitated (unable to settle), or turns dull (without skillful means), dread comes up. The counteragents to these three ills are exactly vigor (counters lowness), concentration (counters agitation), and wisdom (counters dullness). So "fearlessness" is not inborn boldness, but the fruit of training these three until they "operate of their own accord" (need no deliberate summoning, but are simply present) — this is called "the settled resolve," and once resolved, one is fearless.

Fearlessness has ten distinctions, from "fearlessness in its own nature" all the way to "dwelling amid defilement undefiled," a courage that deepens as the bodhisattva goes on: fearless in arousing the mind of awakening; diligent in his own benefit without regard for body or life; diligent in benefiting others and not retreating when met with adversity; unstartled on hearing the profound meaning; converting the hard-to-convert; establishing beings in great awakening; performing every kind of austerity; deliberately taking birth and not forsaking birth-and-death; dwelling amid birth-and-death yet undefiled by it. Most moving is its "firmness," for which the prose commentary gives a comparison full of vivid scene: the bodhisattva's fearlessness is like the little wind stirred up by a cricket beating its wings — it cannot move Mount Sumeru, cannot shake the great sea. Meeting an evil friend, undergoing heavy suffering, hearing the profound Dharma — these three cannot move the bodhisattva's mind, just as the wind of an insect's wing cannot move Sumeru. And so, among all the fearlessnesses spoken of, the bodhisattva's fearlessness is the most excellent.

III. Non-retreat: to retreat shames the conscience, and to retreat is not brave

Right after fearlessness comes non-retreat (不退) — which is almost the other face of fearlessness. The bodhisattva's non-retreat is of three kinds: not tiring of hearing the Dharma and so not retreating; ever exerting great vigor and so not retreating; not retreating amid the sufferings and troubles of birth-and-death. On what does it stand? The prose commentary points to two "supports," which loop neatly back to the two preceding sections: one is conscience, the other is bravery — "to retreat is a thing to be ashamed of (conscience); to retreat is not to be brave (bravery)." A person of conscience and bravery naturally cannot retreat. And the "self-nature" of non-retreat is that surge of aspiration, "desiring and delighting in great awakening" — should this aspiration once turn over, one retreats then and there. Plainly, the earlier conscience and fearlessness are here drawn together onto this one sinew of "non-retreat": the underrobe is conscience, the courage is fearlessness, and what holds one up so one does not turn back is non-retreat.

IV. Knowing the Dharma, knowing the world: mastering the five sciences, understanding human feeling

To deliver others the bodhisattva needs more than aspiration; he must also know the Dharma (知法). What does this "Dharma" refer to? The prose commentary answers concretely — the five sciences (五明): the inner science (the meaning of the Buddha-Dharma), the science of reasoning (debate), the science of language (speech and phonology), the science of medicine (prescriptions), and the science of crafts (skills and arts). Why must the bodhisattva learn even medicine and craft? Because their "function" is to benefit self and others: he knows the inner science both for his own cultivation and to teach others; the science of reasoning both to state his own meaning and to refute wrong meanings; the science of language to make people trust and accept; the science of medicine to cure people's ills; the science of crafts to make people understand. The bodhisattva's "knowing" is never for the sake of erudition, but so as to connect with sentient beings. And the sequence of this knowing is very down-to-earth: hearing, retaining, reciting, reflecting, penetrating — first to hear, then to hold in memory, then to recite in practice, then to reflect rightly, and finally to penetrate to where one can tell "this is a virtue, this a fault, this good speech, this evil speech."

Mastering the five sciences still leaves one layer between; the bodhisattva must also know the world (知世間) — understand human feeling. The prose commentary puts this very warmly: to know with the body is to "ease the countenance" (to meet people with a mild, smiling face); to know with speech is to "speak first" (to be a step ahead in greeting and praising). A bodhisattva who would deliver others must first make people willing to draw near — so the face should be mild and the words should come first. This is not worldly guile but for the sake of "making them into vessels": first make people into vessels able to receive the Dharma, then lead the true Dharma in. A deeper layer, "truly knowing the world," is to view the world by the four truths: knowing suffering and its origin, one knows how the world "arises" (its cycling on); knowing cessation and the path, one knows how the world "ceases" (its return to stillness) — cultivating diligently in order to "still" suffering and its origin, and to "gain" cessation and the path. To understand human feeling without stopping at human feeling — the end is to lead people out of the world.

V. The four measures, the four unobstructed understandings: a standard that holds, an eloquence that gets through

To deliver others one needs a standard that will not be shaken, and this is the four measures (四量, i.e. the four reliances). The prose commentary sets up the four measures, each aimed at a particular tendency to go astray: relying on the teaching that expresses [the meaning] (rely on the Dharma, not on the person, blocking "slandering the Dharma and speaking of persons"); relying on the intended meaning (rely on the meaning, not on the words, blocking "clinging to the letter"); relying on the definitive meaning (rely on the definitive, not on the provisional, blocking "wrong thinking and inverted understanding"); relying on the wordless knowledge (rely on knowledge, not on consciousness, blocking "clinging to verbal expression"). These four reliances are not book-learning but the bodhisattva's four lines of defense: rely on them, and faith, right reflection, right hearing, and worldly knowledge all become "unbreakable" — however the situation turns over, however wrong views swarm, one who stands firm at these four will not be swept along.

With the standard set firm, one must also "get through," and this is the four unobstructed understandings (四無礙解, the four eloquences of unobstructed Dharma-teaching): unobstructed in Dharma (knowing the many "gates of designation" under one meaning); unobstructed in meaning (knowing that this name belongs to this meaning, name and reality answering to each other); unobstructed in expression (knowing the languages and sounds of different regions and lands); unobstructed in eloquence (the knowledge of teaching the Dharma freely). The prose commentary explains its provenance deeply: the bodhisattva first, with "supramundane knowledge," inwardly realizes all dharmas and gains that understanding of equal suchness, then, with "subsequently-attained worldly knowledge," outwardly awakens to the distinctions among the many gates of dharmas — first inner realization, then outer awakening, and only so is it called "unobstructed." (The ancient masters, in commenting on the Yogācārabhūmi, also cite the present chapter's verse on "the knowledge of gate, mark, expression," matching gate to Dharma, mark to meaning, expression to expression, and knowledge to eloquence — in accord with the four unobstructed understandings expounded here.) Its "function" is one phrase: it can cut off every net of doubt in every sentient being. Eloquence is not showing off the tongue but resolving doubt for sentient beings — this is the true intent of the four unobstructed understandings.

VI. The two stores: merit and wisdom, the two great provisions

Having set out the tools thus far, the prose commentary gathers them up a little and speaks of the two stores (二聚) — the store of merit and the store of wisdom, the two great provisions of the bodhisattva-path. How do these two stores divide their labor? Very clearly: by the store of merit, the bodhisattva makes, within birth-and-death, the cause of "excellent recompense" (drawing a superior recompense-body and good circumstances in which to deliver beings); by the store of wisdom, upon that excellent recompense he makes the cause of "non-defilement" (enjoying the excellent recompense yet not stuck to it). The one gives him the wherewithal to deliver others, the other keeps him from sinking as he delivers them — merit and wisdom carried together, and only so is the bodhisattva's excellence beyond compare.

How do they join with the six perfections? The prose commentary matches them neatly: giving and discipline, these two perfections, are the substance of the store of merit; wisdom is the substance of the store of wisdom; patience, vigor, and meditation, these three, run through as causes of both merit and wisdom (serviceable on either side); and because wisdom can "dedicate," all the perfections in the end become the store of wisdom as well. The word "store" itself carries a meaning — "right cultivation" plus "repeated cultivation," to cultivate correctly and also to cultivate again and again, so that the wholesome dharmas nourish and grow and pile up into a "store." Practice has no shortcut; it is capital gathered up just so, a little at a time.

VII. The thirty-seven factors of awakening: the full set of tools on the road to buddhahood

The main trunk of this chapter is the thirty-seven factors of awakening (三十七菩提分), transmitted in common across Buddhism — the four foundations of mindfulness, the four right exertions, the four bases of spiritual power, the five faculties, the five powers, the seven factors of awakening, and the eightfold path. The treatise sets them, limb by limb, into the Great Vehicle for exposition. They are opened up below one by one.

The four foundations of mindfulness — four similes breaking the grasping of body-and-mind as real

The four foundations of mindfulness (四念處) are basically the contemplation of body, sensation, mind, and dharmas. The prose commentary establishes for the bodhisattva's four foundations of mindfulness "fourteen kinds of excellent cultivation," cultivating them broad and deep (from the "excellence of support" — arising hearing, reflection, and cultivation upon the Great Vehicle scriptures — to the "excellence of long duration" — cultivating them without end even up to the nirvāṇa without remainder — and the "excellence of subsequent realization" — attainable at the ten grounds and the buddha-ground alike). Most moving among them is the "excellence of the field of awareness," which uses four similes to break our grasping of body-and-mind as real — the body is like an illusion (the form-mark is seemingly-existent; it looks solid but is in fact like an illusory man), sensation is like a dream (feelings are all misperception, like the pleasure and pain of a dream, empty on waking), the mind is like space (the mind's nature is originally pure, like space originally undefiled), and dharmas are like a guest (the afflictions are like a passing guest, like the smoke, cloud, dust, and mist in space, coming and going, not space itself). These four similes overturn all at once the four inverted notions of "permanence, pleasure, self, and purity": it turns out that body, sensation, mind, and dharmas are none of them the solid, real things we take them for.

The four right exertions — vigor arisen to counter the obstacles to the foundations of mindfulness

The four foundations of mindfulness meet with obstacles, and so one cultivates the four right exertions (四正勤) to counter them. The prose commentary unfolds this counteracting into "ten practices" (abandoning attachment, abandoning the coverings, abandoning what is low, entering the grounds, dwelling in stillness, receiving the prediction, maturing beings, receiving consecration, purifying the land, and fulfillment — from being undefiled by excellent recompense, to leaving the obstacle-coverings, to leaving the attention proper to the two vehicles, matched all the way up to the ten grounds and the buddha-ground). Its "cultivation" has clear stages: relying on aspiration one gives rise to exertion, relying on exertion one gives rise to vigor, gathers in the mind, and holds it rightly — only with the will to it is there diligent striving. Here "gathering in the mind" is tranquillity (止, śamatha), and "holding rightly" is the mind resting evenly and settled. Right exertion is not brute force but working within the evenness of tranquillity-and-insight, expressly cutting off the two ills of "sinking and scattering" within tranquillity-and-insight.

The four bases of spiritual power — aspiration, vigor, mind, and inquiry, with the eight formative practices

The four bases of spiritual power (四神足) the prose commentary treats under three matters: support, means, and accomplishment. Support is the four bases on which meditation rests — aspiration, vigor, mind, and inquiry (to gain concentration one must first have the will to it, have vigor, have a focused mind, and have discerning inquiry). Means matches the "eight formative practices" (faith, aspiration, exertion, pliancy, mindfulness, knowledge, intention, and equanimity): from faith arises aspiration, from aspiration exertion (the setting to work); from pliancy (tranquil ease) concentration is born (the gathering-in); by mindfulness the mind is kept from leaving its object, by knowledge one leaves distraction and gathers back again (the binding-in); by intention one counters sinking, by equanimity one counters scattering (the counteracting) — eight mental factors, and together they oversee every step of "how concentration is gained." Accomplishment is of six kinds, from the five eyes and the six supernormal powers, to transformation and sport, to roaming at will and emitting light, to the ten masteries, and to the attainment of the ten powers, the four fearlessnesses, and the eighteen distinctive qualities — once the bases of spiritual power are gained, these excellent functions follow.

The five faculties, the five powers — the same five dharmas: before entering the grounds called "faculties," on the verge of the grounds called "powers"

The five faculties (五根) are faith, vigor, mindfulness, concentration, and wisdom, each with its object: the faculty of faith takes awakening as object, the faculty of vigor the bodhisattva practices, the faculty of mindfulness the hearing of the Great Vehicle Dharma, the faculty of concentration tranquillity, and the faculty of wisdom the knowledge of things as they are. Why called "faculties"? Because they "have a strengthening force upon their objects" — like the roots of grass and trees, they can strike down and grow forth benefit. And the five powers (五力) are in fact these same five dharmas, only advanced one rung in position: on the verge of entering the first ground, these five dharmas have grown strong enough to render their counter-sides (unbelief, indolence, lapse of mindfulness, distraction, ignorance) frail and forceless — able to "weaken the other," and so renamed "powers." The same set of dharmas, before reaching the grounds called "faculties" and on the verge of the grounds called "powers" — plainly showing that practice moves from weak to strong.

The seven factors of awakening — matched to the seven treasures of the wheel-turning king

By the seven factors of awakening (七覺分: mindfulness, discernment of dharmas, vigor, joy, pliancy, concentration, equanimity), the bodhisattva has already entered the first ground, and "awakens" to that dharma, whereby the factors of awakening are established — this "awakening" being the gaining of an "equal understanding" toward all dharmas, self and other, which is precisely the no-self of dharmas and the no-self of persons. For these seven limbs the treatise sets a comparison of the utmost grandeur, matching them to the seven treasures of the wheel-turning king (轉輪王, the cakravartin): as the wheel-king goes forth and the seven treasures open the road before him, so, as the bodhisattva turns toward right awakening, these seven limbs are ever fully present, leading the way before him —

• Mindfulness is like the wheel-treasure (the wheel-treasure subdues the not-yet-subdued lands; mindfulness subdues the not-yet-subdued objects);
• Discernment of dharmas is like the elephant-treasure (the elephant crushes stout foes; discernment of dharmas breaks that mighty enemy, "discrimination");
• Vigor is like the horse-treasure (the horse swiftly reaches the ends of the great earth; vigor swiftly reaches the very verge of suchness);
• Joy is like the jewel-treasure (the jewel's light illumines the dark and greatly gladdens the king; the light of the Dharma breaks the darkness and fills the mind with joy);
• Pliancy (tranquil ease) is like the woman-treasure (the woman-treasure by her touch gives the king pleasure; pliancy frees knowledge from obstacle and vexation, and stills every evil);
• Concentration is like the treasury-minister-treasure (whatever the king requires comes from the treasury-minister; whatever knowledge uses is born of concentration);
• Equanimity is like the general-treasure (the general reviews the host, discarding the weak and taking the strong; equanimity discards the evil and takes the good, resting in accord with non-conceptual knowledge and needing no deliberate effort).

The prose commentary further gathers the seven limbs into three classes: mindfulness is the "support portion" (all the factors of awakening proceed in reliance on it); discernment is the "self-nature portion" (the very body of awakening); vigor is the "portion of going forth" (bringing it to the ultimate); joy is the "virtue portion" (filling the mind with delight); and pliancy, concentration, and equanimity, these three, are the "undefiled portion." One set of awakening-limbs, with a leader (mindfulness) and a chief (discernment of dharmas), a driving force (vigor), a nourishing (joy), and a bedrock that takes no defilement (pliancy, concentration, equanimity) — the bodhisattva goes toward awakening thus, walking with the seven treasures complete.

The eightfold path — one turning, establishing the portion, purifying the three karmas, cutting off the three obstacles

The eightfold path (八正道) the prose commentary gathers most concisely, matching it out in four phrases: right view is "the one turning, as the awakening before" (arising in train after the true realization of the prior stage); right thought is "establishing the portion" (having understood the portion of principle one has set up for oneself, one then discriminates it for others as the Buddha has set it up); right speech, right action, right livelihood, these middle three, purify the three karmas of "speech, body, and both"; right vigor, right mindfulness, right concentration, these last three, cut off the "cognitive obstacle, the concentration-obstacle, and the mastery-obstacle" — by right vigor, unretreating over long duration, the cognitive obstacle is cut off; by right mindfulness, rendering sinking and scattering bodiless, the concentration-obstacle is cut off; by right concentration, accomplishing excellent virtue, the mastery-obstacle is cut off. From "seeing truly" (right view) to "thinking rightly" (right thought), to "body, speech, and livelihood all purified" (the middle three), to "the last three obstacles all cut off" (the last three), the eightfold path is a complete road from seeing to practice, from practice to purity.

VIII. Tranquillity-and-insight, the five skillful means, the retentions, the vows: putting the factors of the path to use

〔from here, scroll eleven〕

The factors of the path now set out in full, the prose commentary goes on to speak of how they are "put to use."

Tranquillity-and-insight (止觀) — these are the two feet of all the factors of the path. The prose commentary gives "tranquillity" a most refined definition: "to settle the mind in right concentration and yet not see the mind" — the mind is settled upon right concentration, yet one no longer sets up a further "mind that stills" to look at it (once there is a mind of "I am stilling," it is no longer true stilling); "insight" is "to discriminate the substance of dharmas in reliance on right abiding." Who should cultivate them? "Whoever desires all the virtues should cultivate both" — anyone who would seek all virtues must cultivate tranquillity-and-insight. The prose commentary also cites the Buddha's word as witness: the Buddha told the monks that "there are two dharmas to be cultivated, namely tranquillity and insight." The method has a single and a paired form: single cultivation is "either tranquillity or insight," paired cultivation is "tranquillity and insight cultivated together" — this is the root of all the profound practices that follow.

The five skillful means (五種巧方便) — to put the factors of the path to skillful use, the prose commentary sets up five: maturing the Buddha-Dharma in oneself (by non-conceptual knowledge); maturing sentient beings (by the four means of gathering); swiftly gaining awakening (by repentance, rejoicing, requesting the turning of the Dharma-wheel, and making excellent vows); accomplishing the work (by the gate of the retentions and the gate of samādhi); not severing the road within birth-and-death (by the non-abiding nirvāṇa). The last is the most redolent of the Great Vehicle's spirit — the bodhisattva takes "non-abiding nirvāṇa" as his skillful means: not abiding in birth-and-death (for he has wisdom), not abiding in nirvāṇa (for he has compassion), and so this road of delivering beings is never severed.

The retentions (陀羅尼, dhāraṇī, the total holding [of the Dharma]) — the capacity to retain the true Dharma, of three grades: won by recompense (the karmic force of past lives), won by cultivated habit (the power of hearing and retaining in this life), and won by cultivation (in reliance on the power of concentration). The first two are "lesser" and the retention won by cultivation "greater"; the greater is further divided into soft (before entering the grounds), middling (the impure grounds, the first seven grounds), and superior (the pure grounds, the last three grounds). In reliance on the retentions the bodhisattva "ever reveals the wondrous Dharma, and ever holds it fast" — with one hand passing the Dharma out, with the other holding the Dharma down: precisely the two faces of the total holding.

The vows (諸願) — the aspiration of the bodhisattva, which the prose commentary distinguishes by six aspects (self-nature, cause, ground, fruit, distinction, and function). The vow takes as its substance the concord of "intention and desire," and as its cause "knowledge" — plainly, the vow of the Great Vehicle is no momentary impulse but a will held and guided by wisdom. The distinctions of the vow are three: the manifold (in the grounds of faith-and-practice, vowing in accord with one's desire); the vast (the ten great vows of the bodhisattva who has entered the grounds); the pure (the later and later grounds cleansing them turn by turn, up to the utmost purity at the buddha-ground). The function of the vow, too, is two phrases: the accomplishment of one's own benefit, the accomplishment of others' benefit. When the practitioner makes vows, it is thus, grade upon grade, that they are nourished up — from scattered to vast, from vast to pure.

IX. The three samādhis and four seals of the Dharma: turning to impermanence and no-self

At the end of the storehouse of tools, the prose commentary uses the three samādhis and four seals of the Dharma to turn toward the arguments on impermanence and no-self.

The three samādhis (三三昧: emptiness, wishlessness, and marklessness) each have their object trained upon: the samādhi of emptiness takes as object "the twofold no-self of persons and dharmas" (not discriminating the two selves, hence called emptiness); the samādhi of wishlessness takes as object "the five appropriated aggregates on which the grasping of the two selves rests" (turning from them in aversion, hence called wishlessness); the samādhi of marklessness takes as object "the utter quiescence of that on which [they] rest" (delighting in gaining that quiescence, hence called marklessness). Their cultivation, too, has a sequence: to "know" the twofold no-self one cultivates emptiness; to "cut off" what the two graspings rest upon one cultivates wishlessness; to "realize" the utter quiescence one cultivates marklessness — knowing, cutting off, realizing, a single line running from seeing to realization.

The four seals of the Dharma (四法印: all formations are impermanent, all formations are suffering, all dharmas are without self, and nirvāṇa is quiescent) are the support of the three samādhis: the seals of impermanence and of suffering establish the samādhi of wishlessness, the seal of no-self establishes the samādhi of emptiness, and the seal of quiescence establishes the samādhi of marklessness. The prose commentary presses through the "meaning" of the four seals phrase by phrase — taking "the meaning-less" as the meaning of impermanence (the discriminated mark is utterly and always non-existent; this is impermanence spoken of the "wholly-imagined nature" — the wholly-imagined discriminated mark is originally non-existent, and so is said to be impermanent, and the ancient masters, in commenting on the Yogācārabhūmi, also cite this line of the present chapter as their ground), taking "the discriminated" as the meaning of no-self (the discriminated mark is nothing but discrimination, without substance), taking "the unreal discrimination" as the meaning of suffering (the mind and mental factors of the three realms are the substance of suffering — this is the other-dependent mark), and taking "the stilling of all discrimination" as the meaning of quiescence (this is the real mark). The prose commentary then turns to the chapter’s arguments on impermanence and no-self. What follows reports how the treatise establishes momentary cessation; the exposition does not add an independent adjudication.

X. Momentary cessation: everything is newly born from moment to moment, like a lamp-flame

By arising and from a cause, being contrary, also not abiding … the meaning is established in fifteen ways.

The factors of the path readied, the treatise turns to its claim that all formations arise and cease moment by moment and do not abide for an instant. This is the momentary-cessation thesis stated by the chapter. In the treatise’s distinction, impermanence means not only eventual decay but present non-abiding. The following exchange with an opponent develops that claim.

How does the prose commentary press this principle out step by step? It establishes it over and over by "fifteen meanings." Each meaning first lets the opponent say "a thing has temporary abiding," and then breaks it one by one. Look at a few of the most telling —

• You say "a thing has temporary abiding, the later succeeding the earlier, and this is called continuity"? The prose commentary says this on the contrary leaves no continuity: since the earlier abides without ceasing, the later has no way to succeed it, and continuity is severed then and there ("by arising").
• You say "the cause able to give rise is at the same time the cause able to cause ceasing"? The prose commentary says arising and ceasing are contrary and cannot share one cause, just as light and dark cannot coexist, cold and heat cannot be present together ("being contrary").
• Your subtlest question is: if a thing is newly born from moment to moment, how do I come to recognize it as "the same old thing"? The prose commentary answers most beautifully — it is "similar continuity" that has deceived you. It gives a fine comparison supplied by the treatise, the lamp-flame: the flame of a lamp looks like "one unmoving ball of fire," but is in fact a fire newly kindled at every instant; the prior flame has already ceased and the later flame just then born, only the succession is so tight that you come to cognize "this is that same old lamp" ("succeeding on").
• You say "when a thing first arises there is no change in it"? The prose commentary says the moment it arises it is already changing, only subtly and hard to perceive — as milk turns into curds, the change proceeding at every moment, noticed by you only when the mark of curds appears, though in truth it has been changing all along ("alteration").

The later of the fifteen meanings further clasp tight, layer upon layer, that "all formations are effects of the mind, and since the effect is momentary the cause too is momentary" (cause, effect, holding, dominance, following-purity, following-birth — even citing the Buddha's word "the mind draws the world to come and go" as witness). 〔exposition-borrowed simile〕A waterfall may help illustrate the treatise’s “continuous yet not abiding”: from afar it appears still, while its waters flow in succession. This image is only a reading aid, not independent proof of momentary cessation.

Having established the general meaning, the prose commentary again "separately establishes that inner dharmas are momentary" (matching the fourteen kinds of arising to the nine kinds of cause — from initial arising, continued arising, prolonged arising, and dependent arising, to arising in another place, arising from seed, arising as image — showing point by point that without momentariness none of them holds), and then "establishes that outer dharmas are momentary" (by the fourteen causes — the moistening and drying of water, the increase and decrease of the movement of wind, the two arisings and four alterations of earth, the force of firewood in fire, the gradual faintness of sound …). Two of the outer-dharma comparisons here are likewise the treatise's own: the tone of a bell growing gradually faint shows precisely that sound diminishes from moment to moment and never stops; fire arising in reliance on firewood, and, the firewood spent, the fire not abiding shows precisely that fire too is a momentary continuity. Finally the prose commentary closes with a "general challenge": since you are willing to say "impermanent," why are you unwilling to say "momentary cessation"? You say the moment cannot be known? But the lamp-flame is, at the point where it "looks unmoving," equally unknowable moment by moment, and yet you grant that it ceases from moment to moment — plainly then "all formations are momentary like a lamp-flame," and the worldly do not know it only because the formations are "inverted things," their continuity so tight that they are seen as a prior thing. This exposition only opens up the argument's skeleton and a few key comparisons — the reasoning belongs to the prose commentary itself, and it suffices to transmit it faithfully.

XI. The no-self of persons: "self" is a borrowed name, like a whirlpool

The person is provisional, not really existent; spoken of as real, it cannot be found.

After its argument on impermanence, the treatise argues for the no-self of persons. It states that the person exists as a provisional name rather than as a substance and describes this as avoiding the two extremes. The exposition below reports that line of argument without deciding on its behalf.

Before pressing the question of "self," it helps first to see clearly the five aggregates on which this "self" rests — the Saṃyukta Āgama, sutra 265, sets a simile for each of the five aggregates: "contemplate form as a mass of foam, sensation as a bubble on the water, perception as a spring mirage, the formations as a plantain trunk, and consciousness as an illusion" (Chinese T02n0099) — the form-body is like a lump of foam gathered on the water's surface (crushed at a touch, without solidity), sensation like a bubble on the water (ceasing the moment it arises), perception like a spring mirage (from afar seeming water, gone the moment one approaches), the formations like a plantain trunk (peeled layer by layer, no core within), and consciousness like an illusion (seemingly-existent yet not real). Each of the five aggregates is like foam, like mirage, like illusion, not one of them a solid thing; then, upon these five aggregates, where could one set a solid "self"? The breaking of self sets out precisely from this ground of "the five aggregates being originally without solidity."

The prose commentary presents the treatise’s replies to the opponent’s questions in sequence —

• First the question of "same or different": do you say "self" and the five aggregates (body-and-mind) are "the same"? Then the "self" becomes the aggregates that arise and cease, and the aggregates are just the self; do you say they are "different"? Then, apart from body-and-mind, no self is to be found. So "self" and body-and-mind can be spoken of neither as the same nor as different — yet whatever is real must admit of being spoken of as same or different; the treatise therefore concludes that “self” is not a substance (that the Tathāgata "sets aside and does not answer" this is precisely because the question itself is built upon a false "real self").
• The opponent brings out "self and body-and-mind are like fire and firewood, neither one nor different and not to be spoken of" to argue his case; the prose commentary breaks this too, point by point: fire is the fire-element, firewood the remaining elements, each with its own distinct mark (they differ in mark); worldly people plainly see firewood apart from fire, and fire apart from firewood (worldly seeing — as when the wind blows the flame off to another place); the Buddha never says fire and firewood are not to be spoken of as one or different (the sages' word) — since even fire and firewood may be spoken of as different, to take them as a shield for "the real self cannot be spoken of" does not hold.
• Then the question of "operation": if there were a real "self" that does the "seeing, the cognizing," yet the arising and ceasing of eye-consciousness comes about from faculty and object (the two that exist), what has "self" to do with it? If "self" truly held the mastery, why does an unwished-for consciousness arise all the same and a wished-for consciousness cease all the same? The treatise therefore rejects the claim that a substantial self exercises mastery.
• Again the question of "activity": whatever is really existent must have some activity to point to (as the eye-faculty is established as existent by "seeing"), yet "self" can produce no activity whatever — to be without substance and yet forcibly make it substantial runs precisely counter to the Buddha's three kinds of awakening (the profound, the uncommon, the supramundane); it is the outsiders' point of attachment, the constant habit of birth-and-death.
• Finally, confirmation from the sages' teaching: the Sutra of the Seal of the Dharma says "all dharmas are without self," the Sutra of True Emptiness says "there is action and there is recompense, but the doer cannot be found; there is only the arising and ceasing of dharmas," and the Sutra of the Added Five says "grasping a self has five faults" — according with the Āgamas, the real self likewise cannot be found.

Then how are we to take the "knower," the "bearer," and other such "persons" the sutras do so often speak of? The prose commentary answers most aptly: these are all "the provisional positing of a person by way of the distinction of dharmas" — in reliance on the various "positions" and "cuttings-off" that distinguish the defiled dharmas and the pure dharmas, the name "person" is borrowed to point them out expediently, with no substance behind it (as the Sutra of the Burden: the "burden" is the defiled dharmas, the "laying down of the burden" the pure dharmas — it speaks of the distinction of dharmas, not that there is a "person" who bears a burden).

This principle of "provisionally positing a person by the distinction of dharmas" has, in the Sutra of the Bhikṣu Nāgasena (那先比丘經), a simile entirely of one structure with this chapter's breaking of self, best held in mind first. The elder Nāgasena, taking apart a "chariot" for King Milinda, asks in turn: is the axle the chariot? No; is the hub the chariot? No; the spokes, the rim, the shaft, the yoke, the carriage-box, the canopy … asked of one by one, no single part is "the chariot"; then, gathering these timbers and heaping them in one place, is that the chariot? Still it is not. The king fell silent, and only then did Nāgasena declare the Buddha's meaning — "the sutra of the Buddha says: when the many timbers are combined, and put to use as a chariot, one gets the name 'chariot'" (Chinese T32n1670): there is no "chariot" existing independently apart from the parts; "chariot" is only a provisional name got when these timbers are so combined and give rise to the function of conveyance. "The person is likewise": the head and face, ears and nose, bones and flesh, hands and feet, heart, liver, gut and stomach, pain and pleasure, good and evil — when these are "combined," only then is the name "person" borrowed to point them out, and there is no "self" existing independently apart from the parts of body-and-mind. Here the chariot serves to explain the treatise’s two claims: a provisional name may still function, while no separate substantial self need be posited. It is a comparative aid, not a final ruling on every account of the person.

〔exposition-borrowed simile〕The same account may be illustrated through a whirlpool: a whirlpool on the surface of a river — you can give it a name and point and say "that whirlpool," but where is there a thing "whirlpool"? — it is nothing but water, turning in a certain shape; let the shape of the current alter, and the whirlpool is gone; there was never a "whirlpool itself" apart from the water. "Self" is just so: it is only a shape shown forth by the stream of body-and-mind, borrowed a name and called "self," and there is no substance of a 'self' apart from body-and-mind. The treatise's final charge: the reason the Buddha does not directly speak of a real self is precisely that sentient beings' self-view has "been habituated from beginningless time," and to speak of it would on the contrary foster the self-view and cut off the road of liberation — That is the conclusion of this passage, transmitted here without adjudication on its behalf; the whirlpool is only a reading aid and not independent proof.

Conclusion: readying the full set of tools, all to see clearly these two matters

Viewed as a whole, the first half presents the bodhisattva’s factors of practice; the second turns to the treatise’s arguments on impermanence and no-self; and the closing verse returns to self-benefit and benefit of others. The exposition reports this sequence and does not turn its borrowed waterfall and whirlpool images into independent proof.

In one phrase: the chapter first presents the bodhisattva’s factors of practice, then argues for impermanence and the no-self of persons, and finally returns to self-benefit and benefit of others; this exposition transmits that course without adjudicating through its borrowed similes.

The Chapter on the Factors of Awakening finished laying out the tools for becoming a buddha; this chapter turns back to take stock: a bodhisattva — what, in the end, are the "qualities" (功德, the good properties and doings) that he carries about with him? The treatise is as if unrolling an extremely long list — the rare qualities, the mind of equality, the seven likenesses of benefit, the sixfold requital, the five hopes, the four fruits that do not fall empty, the six right practices, the six true and six counterfeit, prophecy, the six certainties, the four provisional establishments, the four knowings-as-they-are, the five immeasurables, the eight fruits of teaching, the seven great meanings of the Mahāyāna, the ten gates of marks, the sixteen names, the awakenings — the headings are many, but the backbone is clear: what makes a bodhisattva a bodhisattva lies wholly in these qualities. What follows takes that list and opens it, one item at a time.

I. The rare and the not-rare: the value of the hard-won lies in "doing it while it is still hard"

The first item on the list: the treatise first divides the rare (難能可貴, the hard-won and precious) from the not-rare (不希有, nothing to marvel at). The question is very concrete: since both are the practice of the six perfections, on what ground is one called precious and the other not?

First, the "rare in practice." The prose commentary judges it perfection by perfection: giving counts as rare only when one can give up one's own body and life (giving away outer goods does not count); discipline counts as rare only when one can give up rank and station and, longing for the path, leave home; patience counts as rare only when one can disregard body and life and bow before beings lower and worse than oneself; vigor counts as rare only when one practices rightly through the long aeons, exhausting the very bounds of birth-and-death without a break; meditation counts as rare only when, in the joy of superior concentration, one does not crave its taste and is not carried by the concentration into rebirth in the form and formless realms; wisdom counts as rare only when one can arouse non-conceptual knowledge (無分別智, the root knowledge that leaves off subject-object discrimination and directly realizes suchness). The prose commentary adds one more contrast, cutting deep: the listener (聲聞, the śrāvaka) "discriminates the four truths and gives rise to world-weariness," seeing to his own release; the bodhisattva refuses precisely that world-weariness — and this is just where the bodhisattva's practice of wisdom is rare.

The "rare in fruit" then borrows the four fruits of the ascetic life to take stock of the bodhisattva's four fruits: entering the first ground and being born into the family of the Tathāgata (like the stream-enterer), receiving prophecy at the eighth ground (like the once-returner), receiving consecration at the tenth ground (like the non-returner), and the buddha-ground (like the arhat); the first three are fruits of one still training, the fourth is the fruit of one beyond training.

Now the "not-rare." The reverse: to give only after one has already gained detachment from desire (when goods are already undefiling and easy to release); to keep discipline and patience only after one has already gained great compassion; to practice the last three perfections only after one has already reached the eighth ground (effortless and non-conceptual); to practice the perfections only after one has already gained the mind that holds self and other equal (benefiting others just as benefiting oneself, with no shrinking back) — all of these are "nothing to marvel at."

This division of judgment is telling: the value of a quality lies not in "how great a deed was done," but in "its being done while it is still hard." When the seas are calm anyone can hold steady; only lighting a lamp against the headwind shows the real skill. The bodhisattva's rareness is just that courage of "throwing oneself in before the conditions have ripened."