I. Clarifying Coarse Deluded Thoughts: Neither Grasping nor Indulging

Let us now return to Mahāmudrā. Earlier, we explained that Mahāmudrā is a practical Dharma gate that directly points us to the true mind. Mahāmudrā is the One True Dharma Realm; it is our true mind, the essential nature that is without cultivation, without correction, and without distraction. Yet, to enter the realm of Mahāmudrā practice, one must initially undergo arduous cultivation. Without undertaking the practice, you cannot recognize that this knowing awareness free of thoughts is your own intrinsic nature and thereby realize the great Way. Why is this? Mahāmudrā says:

“Coarse deluded thoughts that turn with circumstances obscure the original appearance of one’s own mind.”

What are coarse deluded thoughts that turn with circumstances? When we encounter an object, a thought arises; we cling to conditions without cease. Seeing this, we think of this; seeing that, we think of that. We can never put things down in our minds, and we indulge in chaotic, topsy-turvy, reckless thoughts. This is called coarse delusion. Coarse delusion is like dark clouds obscuring the sun: it conceals the bright original appearance of our own mind. Therefore, it must be eliminated.

If coarse delusion is not cut off, one’s practice will not get on track. Why? While sitting in meditation, you are wholly caught up in inverted deluded thoughts, thinking of this and that; off the cushion, you turn with circumstances and cling to conditions without cease. You simply cannot see the original appearance of your own mind. This is drifting through birth and death! How can your practice get on track, and how can you attain the great Way?

“Though one has received direct instruction, one still cannot see it. Therefore, one should first clarify coarse delusion. Thus it is taught: At the outset, let the mind rest openly and at ease, neither grasping nor indulging.”

Where is the true mind, and what is it like? This has already been directly pointed out many times. If, after receiving direct instruction, we still cannot see it, this shows that our deluded mind is very strong. We should then undertake the practice to cut off coarse delusion.

There is an order to awakening and realizing the Way; accordingly, there is also an order to practice. What is that order? At the beginning of practice, one must cut off the coarse delusion that turns with circumstances. What is coarse delusion? Deluded thoughts that think of this upon seeing this, think of that upon seeing that, give rise to mind in response to objects, and cling to conditions without cease are called coarse delusion. When we practice, we ignore them and let everything go; this is cutting off coarse delusion.

When coarse deluded thoughts have ceased, subtle deluded thoughts remain—namely, certain ideas in our minds. Those of you who have practiced know that when we stop the coarse deluded thoughts, subtle thoughts emerge one after another without our noticing. These emerging thoughts are called subtle delusions; in the Dharma Characteristics School, they are called “mind.”

The five universal mental factors taught by the Dharma Characteristics School are possessed by everyone, by all sentient beings: attention, contact, feeling, perception, and volition. These are the most fundamental deluded mind. Yi is the mind faculty.

It is constantly in motion, like a fish moving beneath the water. It moves very swiftly. On the surface, one cannot see it moving, yet it flows on continuously without stopping. These are subtle and extremely subtle deluded thoughts.

These extremely subtle deluded thoughts are also called the subtle continuous stream. They are most subtle: where they are clear and unmoving, they resemble swiftly flowing water that appears not to move at all. In fact, they move with great speed, beyond what human eyes can perceive. Only by entering the Great Samādhi of Vajrasattva can one see them. Therefore, even after coarse delusion has been cut off, there remain subtle delusion, very subtle delusion, and extremely subtle delusion—not to mention that when we first begin to practice, we have merely managed to keep the body still.

How can we see these extremely subtle deluded thoughts? We can only settle the mind and meditate, first clarifying coarse delusion. Then we can see the subtle and extremely subtle deluded thoughts, cut them off, and directly realize the original appearance of our own mind. Therefore, we must first break through coarse delusion.

How should one practice? Mahāmudrā instructs us in this way: “At the outset, let the mind rest openly and at ease, neither grasping nor indulging.” At the beginning of practice, we must first let our minds be entirely open and at ease. Do not abide in anything; do not have afflictions, constraint, or bondage. Be open and unconstrained, and let everything go. Confucian teaching says, “The noble person is open and at ease; the petty person is ever anxious.”

The petty person calculates gain, loss, benefit, and harm within the mind, turning them over and over. Because of concern over gain and loss, such a person is always anxious. The noble person is not troubled by gain or loss; everything is of no consequence, and so such a person is open and unconstrained. We who practice the Dharma are great noble persons and true persons of resolve. All the more, we must be open and unconstrained, let everything go, and rest openly without abiding.

Tantan means level and straight, without bends or twists. When the mind has no twists, the direct mind itself is the place of practice. Dangdang means sweeping everything away until it is empty, without abiding in anything. Thus one is utterly open, at ease, and free. Mahāmudrā tells us that we must first practice in this way.

If we cannot do this, if there is attachment in the mind and it keeps turning without cease, then we must apply the Dharma as an antidote. How? By “neither grasping nor indulging.” To grasp means to seize and hold it down; to indulge means to let it run free. We should neither grasp it nor indulge it, but let it be naturally.

When we practice, if we grasp thoughts too tightly and dare not let them move at all, we will gradually become lifeless. Yet neither should we allow thoughts simply to arise unchecked, for that falls into indulgence, and that too is wrong. When a thought comes, do not attend to it. This is neither grasping nor indulging.

In fact, the practice of all Dharma methods is the training of not attending to thoughts. It is not that thoughts do not come or do not arise. Let them come and let them arise; if you do not attend to them, they will naturally dissolve. Whether one practices Buddha-recitation, mantra recitation, or Chan inquiry, when thoughts come, one must neither grasp nor indulge them.

In fact, thoughts cannot be grasped or suppressed; they will come. As the ancient worthies said, “Though the wind has ceased, the waves still surge.” When thoughts come to a practitioner of Buddha-recitation, do not attend to them, but take up the Buddha’s name. When thoughts come to a Chan practitioner, do not attend to them, but take up the huatou. When thoughts come to one practicing Esoteric Buddhism, do not attend to them, but take up the mantra.

Give single-minded attention to the Buddha’s name, the huatou, or the mantra, and deluded thoughts will naturally be transformed. With regard to thoughts, it is not that we prevent them from arising, nor that we let them run freely; rather, we transform them. This is alive, not dead. Last time, we mentioned Chan Master Wolun’s verse: “Wolun has a skill: he can cut off a hundred thoughts. When encountering objects, the mind does not arise; bodhi grows day by day.” This suppresses thoughts so that they do not arise; it is lifeless and will not do. One must neither grasp nor indulge them—one must not attend to them.

It is certainly not good when deluded thoughts arise, but if you suppress them to death, all is lost. Deluded thoughts arise from the true mind, just as waves arise from water. If you suppress deluded thoughts to death, it is like eliminating the waves and thereby leaving no water; the true mind will no longer be alive. We know that the true mind is vital and dynamic: it contains all things, gives rise to all dharmas, and manifests wondrous functioning. If you truly suppress deluded thoughts to death, the true mind will become like earth, wood, metal, or stone, unable to manifest wondrous functioning.

Earth, wood, metal, and stone constitute one of the twelve classes of living beings. They are insentient. At first glance, they may seem unrelated to us, for humans and all beings within the six realms of rebirth—devas, humans, asuras, hungry ghosts, animals, and hell beings—are sentient, possessing notions of sentience and attachment.

Human beings are creatures with feelings, whereas earth, wood, metal, and stone are inert and insensible, dead and unmoving. They appear to have nothing to do with us. But this is not so. Although the twelve classes of living beings differ in kind, all are manifestations of one numinous true nature, of the One True Dharma Realm. They share the same root and origin as human beings and are not of a different kind.

Buddha-nature is originally true and real, capable of giving rise to all dharmas and fully endowed with all wondrous functions. Yet, because we cling to external appearances, are enveloped by ignorance, abide in objects, cling to emotional attachment, create karma, and undergo karmic retribution, we lose the true mind. Thus the One True becomes divided into inner and outer aspects.

The inner true aspect is our own body and mind. The outer true aspect consists of mountains, rivers, the great earth, the sun, moon, stars, grasses, trees, forests, and all other things outside us—what are called external objects.

Yet all of these are ourselves! Because of ignorance, we take a small portion of earth, water, fire, and wind, bind it within this fleshly shell, and regard it as ourselves, while disregarding the greater portion of earth, water, fire, and wind and considering it external. Thus there are the twelve classes of living beings. In fact, whether sentient or insentient, all share one root. Therefore, the sūtra says: “Sentient and insentient beings alike perfect the wisdom of all seeds.”

The insentient too are ourselves. To perfect the wisdom of all seeds together means the Buddha’s wisdom, the wisdom of all seeds: above, it can know the Dharma functions of all Buddhas—that is, it can fully know the Buddhadharma of all Buddhas; below, it can know the causal seeds of all sentient beings.

Nowadays, some practitioners who attain a slight experience have someone tell them in their ear what will happen, who has arrived, and what that person looks like. This is being reported to them by an ear-reporting spirit.

But some people imagine that they possess wisdom and spiritual powers, able to foresee who will come and what events will occur. They become complacent: “Ah, how wonderful! I have foreknowledge.” In fact, it is not wonderful at all! This is a transmitting ghost causing mischief. If you remain attached to it for long, it will exploit you and harm you.

How does such a ghost come about? When this person was alive, he specialized in forming factions for private gain, assisting evil, and stirring up lawsuits—that is, helping others commit evil deeds, helping them litigate, plotting for wealth, taking lives, and so forth. Having created karma deserving of the hells, he fell into the hells and suffered there. After his suffering in the hells is exhausted and he emerges, the habitual tendencies from his former life—forming factions for private gain and specializing in evil—still remain and are very strong. Thus, he attaches himself to people and takes them as his own body, telling them certain things about the future. That is why he is called a transmitting ghost; he is no good thing.

When we practice, we should not hear someone telling us this or that in our ear and suppose that we have spiritual powers. This is not a good thing; it is a ghost! The sūtras speak of several kinds of ghosts. For example, one who is greedy for wealth may have loved banknotes and wanted gold while alive—the more, the better. Because of greed, such a person created evil karma and fell into the hells. After the suffering there has ended, the habit of greed remains: seeing anything, he wants it. Upon encountering grasses and trees, he thinks they are wonderful and takes them to be himself.

Thus they attach themselves to grasses and trees, manifesting their powers and causing mischief. It is said that there is a very efficacious bodhi-tree spirit in Shanghai’s Fuxing Park. People flock there, praying and worshipping, and every sort of problem is resolved; it is said to be most efficacious. This is the mischief caused by strange ghosts that attach themselves to grass and trees.

There are also lustful men and women. Since lust is a fire of desire, they are burned by this fire of desire when they descend into hell. After they have undergone this suffering and emerge, because lustfulness is frivolous, they take form upon encountering wind and make wind their substance. These are ba ghosts—female demons. There are also those that take great mountains and great waters as their substance. What ghosts are these? They are called wangliang: ghosts of wrong views.

This is because in their previous lives these people held incorrect views, were arrogantly self-important and self-righteous, and, whenever others differed with them, used schemes and tricks to harm them. Therefore, they descended into hell.

After they have undergone their suffering and emerge, because they were wildly arrogant and self-important, they take the essences of the sun and moon as their own substance. Seizing the light of the sun and moon, they attach themselves to mountains and waters and manifest their powers. Thus everyone says that such places are extraordinarily efficacious.

For example, not long ago it was widely rumored that there was a Water-Sprinkling Avalokiteśvara in Hangzhou. There is a stone on Ziyang Mountain which ordinarily appears to be merely a smooth, bare stone, with nothing on it. But when water is poured over it, an image of Avalokiteśvara appears, and people call it the Water-Sprinkling Avalokiteśvara. People tell one another that the place is extraordinarily efficacious, and come from all directions to seek water there to drink, hoping to cure every illness. In fact, this is a ghost that takes the essences of the sun and moon as its substance.

This shows that all ghosts and spirits, and even such things as earth, wood, metal, and stone, are ourselves! For this reason, it is said that “sentient and insentient alike perfect all-encompassing wisdom.” Our Buddha-nature is originally able to know the causal seeds of all sentient beings, and also to know that the wondrous Dharma of all Buddhas is the complete and perfect great prajñā essence.

II. The Teaching of the Insentient

Last time, someone asked: sentient beings can perfect all-encompassing wisdom—this can be understood—but how can insentient things do so? How can insentient bricks, tiles, wood, and stones perfect all-encompassing wisdom? How can they become Buddhas? Today I will explain this further. Bricks, tiles, wood, and stones are all our own intrinsic nature.

Who discovers bricks, tiles, wood, and stones? Do we not discover them when our numinous light shines upon them? Whose numinous light is this? It is our Buddha-nature. Wherever the numinous light of our Buddha-nature shines, all sentient and insentient things—mountains, rivers, the great earth, the sun, moon, and stars, men and women, young and old, birds and beasts—are shadows of Buddha-nature; all are manifestations of Buddha-nature.

You are Buddha; therefore, everything illuminated by your numinous light is Buddha. Just as, in a country, if I am the king, everything within that land is mine, so too, if you are Buddha, the light of your Buddha-nature shines clearly throughout the ten directions, pervading empty space and filling the dharma realm. Nothing is not illuminated by the numinous light of Buddha-nature. Therefore, everything is Buddha; not one thing is not Buddha.

But if we do our practice poorly and do not know how to use the mind flexibly and wondrously, instead suppressing our thoughts to death, we become like earth, wood, metal, and stone. Long ago, there were two people practicing beside a great mountain. They sat there without moving, until grass grew on their heads and in their ears; they became like wood and stone. This was the result of practicing by suppressing thoughts to death.

Therefore, all things are ourselves; all are our Buddha-nature. Every form and appearance that we see is Buddha. For this reason, stools, chairs, tables, stands, and so forth are all Buddha; not one is not Buddha. Thus it is said: “The luxuriant yellow flowers are none other than prajñā; the verdant green bamboo is entirely dharmakāya.” Whether flowers or bamboo, all are transformations of Buddha-nature; all are Buddha! This question appears difficult to understand, but once the principle is understood, it is not difficult. Let us now discuss a koan concerning this question.

Long ago, Chan Master Dongshan Liangjie also could not understand this question. He went to Patriarch Guishan to seek instruction and asked, “I have recently heard of National Teacher Nanyang Zhong’s saying about the insentient teaching the Dharma, but I have not yet fathomed its subtleties.” Guishan asked, “Do you still remember it?” Dongshan replied, “I remember.” Guishan said, “Try recounting it once.” Dongshan then related the matter.

“A monk asked, ‘What is the mind of the ancient Buddha?’ The National Teacher replied, ‘Walls and tiles and rubble are.’ The monk asked, ‘Are not walls, tiles, and rubble insentient?’” (Walls, tiles, and rubble are dull and unknowing, without consciousness, whereas a Buddha is an awakened one, knowing everything and capable of everything.

How can walls, tiles, and rubble, being unconscious, dull, and unknowing, be the mind of the ancient Buddha? If that is what you say, then walls, tiles, and rubble are not insentient after all, are they? This was the monk’s counter-question.) The National Teacher replied, ‘They are.’ (These words contain a profound and wondrous meaning. Since sentient and insentient alike perfect all-encompassing wisdom, it is only through discrimination that the distinction between sentient and insentient arises.

If there is no discrimination, all sounds and forms, mountains, rivers, the great earth, and even food, drink, and the relations of men and women are complete within mind-nature, and not a single dharma can be grasped. What sentient or insentient things could there then be? Because dharmas are taken as graspable, people then classify them into categories, loving and hating, accepting and rejecting; thus afflictions arise in profusion and the cycle of rebirth continues without end.

As explained earlier, our bodies are originally formed through the provisional combination of the four elements and are no different from insentient things. It is only because the true mind is enveloped by ignorance and becomes the deluded mind, bound within the shell formed by the provisional combination of the four elements and clung to as oneself, that deluded knowing arises.

Otherwise, would our bodies not be the same as walls, tiles, and rubble? But the monk did not understand this principle, and therefore had the following doubt.) The monk asked, ‘Can they also teach the Dharma?’ (Because Buddhas teach the Dharma to liberate sentient beings, and ancient Buddhas can teach the Dharma, if insentient things are the mind of ancient Buddha, then surely they too can teach the Dharma.

This monk, like us ordinary beings, always remained caught up in what is seen and heard among objects of sense, without seeing the nature that sees and hears.) The National Teacher replied, ‘They are constantly teaching, blazing forth in their teaching, without interruption.

’ (The insentient do not teach intermittently, teaching at one time and not at another. They teach at every moment; the sound of their teaching is immense, like a raging fire burning fiercely, and their teaching never ceases. We are often attached to what we see and hear and do not know that no teaching is the true teaching. When a sound is heard, we say that it is heard; when no sound is heard, we say that nothing is heard.

In fact, not hearing a sound is also hearing: you hear the absence of sound! Therefore, no teaching is true teaching. Because the greatest sound is rarely heard, the greatest sound is soundless. If one says there is a sound to be heard, it is not true hearing, because one is attached to the object heard. The nature of hearing lies neither in sound nor in silence.

Sound arises and ceases, and is therefore false; nature has no point of interruption, and is therefore true.) The monk asked, ‘Why do I not hear it?’ The National Teacher replied, ‘You yourself do not hear; do not hinder those who hear.’ (It is you yourself who do not hear, because you obscure your Buddha-nature and are attached to audible sounds, not knowing that non-hearing is true hearing.

Looking further, who is it that hears what is not heard? Who is it that hears the absence of sound? You say that you do not hear, but it is radiating light through your ear faculty—why do you not know this? You hear silence; is that not hearing? To hear silence—is that not precisely hearing? When you hear sound, you give rise to discriminations in accordance with the sound and run after it.

But when there is silence and no discrimination, that is precisely when your hearing nature is present; therefore, it is true hearing. You yourself do not hear, but you cannot obstruct that which is able to hear! Here the National Teacher rebukes, instructs, and reminds the monk.

At the very time when there is no sound to be heard and the hearing nature is truly hearing, you say that you do not hear. It is simply that you yourself are not alert and do not understand; yet the hearing nature remains distinctly clear!) The monk asked, ‘May I ask what person can hear it?’ (Throughout the entire earth, there is not one person who does not hear.

Who does not hear? Who lacks the nature of hearing? So long as one does not cling to sounds, who is not brightly manifest hearing nature? Alas, one does not cast even a glance at one’s own insight!) The National Teacher replied, ‘All the sages hear it.’ (All sages—Buddhas, bodhisattvas, arhats, pratyekabuddhas, and the like—can hear it; ordinary beings cannot.

There is a flaw in the National Teacher’s reply, for everyone is originally Buddha. The dharmakāya is without characteristics, and neither ordinary nor sage is established; how could there still be any distinction between sage and non-sage? Pressed hard by this [illegible character], the National Teacher temporarily used this statement as an expedient to veil his eyes, but the monk saw through it and pressed the question further.

) The monk asked, ‘Does the Venerable Monk also hear it?’ (Can you yourself hear it? Since the National Teacher said that all sages hear it, this question pressed him to the point where he could scarcely answer. If he said that he heard it, he would be praising himself; if he said that he did not, then the National Teacher would be neither a sage nor a teacher.) The National Teacher replied, ‘I do not hear it.’ (He could only confess his guilt.

) The monk asked, ‘Since the Venerable Monk does not hear it, how do you know that the insentient can teach the Dharma?’ (A good, forceful question: using the National Teacher’s own spear to strike back at him, the monk left him nowhere to evade.) The National Teacher replied, ‘It is precisely because I do not hear it. If I heard it, I would be on a par with the sages, and you would not hear me teach the Dharma.

’ (Fortunately, I do not hear it. If I did hear it, I would be a sage, and you would not hear me teach the Dharma. The monk’s question was originally difficult to evade, but the National Teacher was a master of Chan and had his own way of turning about. “It is precisely because I do not hear it”—with this clever turn, he transformed danger into safety. Yet wherever there are words, there is no real meaning.

Originally there is no Dharma to teach, and originally there is no one to hear the Dharma. If there were still a Dharma to teach and someone to hear it, that would be attachment to the marks of person and self. Therefore, when the National Teacher said, ‘You would not hear me teach the Dharma,’ he was also speaking against himself.) The monk pressed him closely: ‘Then sentient beings have no share in it.’

’ (If this is so, sentient beings cannot hear the insentient teaching the Dharma. Would there then be no hope of realizing the Way?) The National Teacher replied, ‘I teach for sentient beings, not for the sages.’ (The National Teacher shifted the thrust of his response.

) The monk asked, ‘What happens after sentient beings hear it?’ (The monk kept the National Teacher firmly pinned down: after sentient beings have heard you teach, what will happen?) The National Teacher replied, ‘They are no longer sentient beings.’

The National Teacher skillfully turned the monk’s challenge back. If sentient beings can hear the insentient expound the Dharma and recognize this hearing-nature that neither arises nor ceases, they transcend the ordinary and enter the sacred; therefore they are not sentient beings. The Diamond Sūtra says: “Sentient beings, sentient beings—the Tathāgata says they are not sentient beings; this is merely called sentient beings.”

Sentient beings? Where are there any sentient beings? All sentient beings are like dreams, illusions, bubbles, and shadows; none is real. Sentient beings are sentient beings precisely because they have not awakened. If they awaken at this very moment, they are no longer sentient beings. Yet, so long as they do not awaken within the dream, they cannot but be sentient beings; therefore, they are merely called sentient beings.

Therefore, quickly awaken from the dream! Someone once said, “You say that everything is nonexistent? For example, if my ear were struck deaf, it could no longer hear sounds, but this still exists, does it not? The phenomenon of my ear having become deaf still exists; it cannot be empty.” This person was clinging to appearances and fastening them to the mind, without awakening. Quickly awaken! Do not keep dreaming.

For example, in a dream we may be beaten by someone or have our heads cut off. Yet once we awaken, we have not in fact been beaten or killed, and our heads remain perfectly intact.

When your ear is struck deaf, this deafness is actually an illusory appearance, unobtainable just like being beaten or killed in a dream. Therefore, do not cling to the dream; quickly empty it! Quickly awaken! Once you awaken, nothing remains. After Guan Gong was beheaded by Lü Meng, he cried out in agony, “Give me back my head! Give me back my head!”

When Master Zhizhe learned of this, he went to liberate him. The Master sat cross-legged, blocking Guan Gong’s path. Guan Gong thought, “This monk is truly bold to dare block my path. I shall show him something.” Then—whoosh!—a violent wind arose, sending flying sand and stones straight at him, but Master Zhizhe did not move in the slightest.

Guan Gong thought, “You are not afraid of violent winds and flying sand, so I shall move a great mountain here to frighten you.” A great mountain then came crashing down, covering heaven and earth, yet Master Zhizhe still did not move in the slightest. Guan Gong was now impressed: “This monk has genuine skill!” He hurried forward and bowed in homage.

Master Zhizhe then expounded the Dharma to Guan Gong: “Here you are crying, ‘Give me back my head! Give me back my head!’”

“When someone cuts off one of your heads, you demand that they return it to you. But how many heads did you cut off and kill during your lifetime? Can you return them to others? Moreover, though your head is gone, you have not lacked anything at all. Why? Because you have merely lost this illusory physical body, while your spiritual knowing and true mind have not diminished in the least.”

We have spoken of taking empty quiescence as the essence; do not take the physical body as the essence. Empty space is your true body; the bodily shell is not the true body, but is merely like a house. Take spiritual knowing as the mind; do not take deluded thoughts and false thinking as the mind. Deluded thoughts and false thinking are not real; they are products of clinging to appearances and grasping at objects.

The nature of spiritual knowing is the faculty of awareness that knows cold and heat, pain and itch. It does not abide in appearances; it has neither head nor tail, neither name nor word. In the past, the Sixth Patriarch, Master Huineng, asked the assembly: “I have one thing: it has no head or tail, no name or word, no back or face. Do any of you recognize it?” Shenhui stepped forth and said: “It is the source of all Buddhas and Shenhui’s Buddha-nature.”

The Sixth Patriarch said: “I told you that it has neither name nor word, yet you call it the source and Buddha-nature. In the future, you will merely become a follower of the school of intellectual understanding, fit only to build a thatched hut and cover your head.” The nature of spiritual knowing—our intrinsic nature—is formless and nameless. To call it one thing is already wrong. The moment Shenhui added a name to it, it had already become a deluded thought.

Therefore, do not take deluded thoughts as the mind; recognize the nature of spiritual knowing.

This was the Dharma that Master Zhizhe expounded to Guan Gong: your sense that your head hurts is the deluded mind’s attachment. Your bodily shell has already been destroyed and no longer exists, so what pain could there be? Once the mind is empty, you shine forth with great radiance; Buddha-nature is luminously clear—what question can there be of pain or no pain? After Guan Gong received Master Zhizhe’s instruction, he awakened and formed the resolve to become a Dharma-protecting deity.

Thus, once sentient beings awaken from the dream and recognize their intrinsic nature, which neither arises nor ceases, they transcend the ordinary and enter the sacred; they are no longer sentient beings. Therefore, when National Teacher Zhong of Nanyang said that sentient beings who hear the insentient expound the Dharma are no longer sentient beings, this is what he meant.

The monk again asked: “The insentient expound the Dharma—what scripture supports this?” He had never heard that the insentient could expound the Dharma. Was there any basis for it? From which scripture did it come? Surely it was not something the National Teacher had invented himself? The monk would not let go of the National Teacher. The National Teacher replied: “Certainly. If one’s words are not grounded in the scriptures, they are not fit for a gentleman to discuss.”

“Have you not seen the Avataṃsaka Sūtra say: ‘Lands speak, sentient beings speak, and everything throughout the three periods of time speaks’?” The National Teacher said that the monk was quite right: if the insentient expounding the Dharma had no basis in scripture, it would be meaningless and not something a gentleman should say.

He then cited a scripture. The Avataṃsaka Sūtra says, “Lands speak, sentient beings speak, and everything throughout the three periods of time speaks.” That is, every particle of dust and every land expounds the Dharma. “All sentient beings” encompasses everything: whether the sentient world or the insentient world, nothing does not expound the Dharma. The past, present, and future—the three periods of time—all expound the Dharma. This was National Teacher Zhong of Nanyang’s instruction to that monk. Chan Master Dongshan did not understand it, so he related this koan to Patriarch Guishan.

After hearing it, Guishan said, “I too have this here, but such a person is rarely encountered.” This expounding of the Dharma by the insentient is also found here. One must encounter someone of corresponding capacity before the occasion and the person can accord; hence, “such a person is rarely encountered.” Dongshan Liangjie respectfully requested, “This humble one has not yet understood. I beg the Master for instruction.” Guishan raised his fly-whisk and said, “Do you understand?”

This itself was the insentient expounding the Dharma. Could Dongshan comprehend it? The insentient expounds the Dharma without sound, but that does not mean it does not expound the Dharma. For example, flowers bloom and flowers fall: this is the insentient expounding the Dharma. Flowers are insentient. When they bloom, they are delicate and beautiful, but before long they wither and fall away. What Dharma do they expound? They expound the Dharma of impermanence.

The river flows past with a rushing sound. Flowing water does not abide; it does not remain. It flows past today, flows past again tomorrow, and never ceases. This flowing water tells us that the illusory appearances of all things change, while their essence has never changed. Su Dongpo understood this principle and said, “That which passes on is thus, yet it has never gone away.”

Flowing water is insentient, yet it too expounds the Dharma. Thus, the insentient is constantly expounding the Dharma. It is not that it does not expound the Dharma; you simply do not know it. When Guishan raised his fly-whisk, he was asking: who is it that raises the fly-whisk? It is not only speaking aloud that constitutes expounding the Dharma; this very raising is an exposition of the Dharma.

Yet Dongshan Liangjie still did not understand, so he said, “I do not understand.” Dongshan honestly admitted that he did not understand and had not comprehended. In fact, this was the most immediate point. For once you think that you understand and comprehend, that is a view based on discriminating consciousness, and there is some principle to be grasped.

On the contrary, when you do not understand, you are precisely at the time when not a single thought arises. Immediately turn the light inward: what is this? At that very moment, you see your true nature. Unfortunately, Dongshan always assumed that there was still some principle to be found; he misunderstood the meaning and missed the opportunity. Dongshan then said, “Please, Master, explain it.” Guishan said, “The mouth born of one’s parents can never speak it for you.”

This fleshly mouth born of one’s parents can never explain it to you. Why? Because no matter how much one says, one can never reach it. Language cannot express it, and thought cannot attain it: “the way of words is cut off, and the activity of mind is extinguished.” The moment it is spoken, it misses the mark; the moment it is known, it is no longer it.

Here Guishan was intimating to Dongshan that non-speaking is true speaking and non-hearing is true hearing; this is the insentient expounding the Dharma. Regrettably, Dongshan still remained confused and did not understand. People often cling to the six sense-object realms of forms, sounds, smells, tastes, tactile objects, and dharmas that correspond to seeing, hearing, awareness, and knowing. That is, they cling to what is seen and heard, so that if there is nothing seen and nothing heard, they think there is nothing at all.

Do they not know that the true nature which is capable of seeing and hearing when there is nothing seen or heard has never been interrupted, bears no trace of continuity, and is thus and unmoving? Therefore Buddha-nature is also called “thusness.” This shows how dense and deeply rooted people’s habitual tendencies of deluded attachment are.

Moreover, Guishan’s statement, “The mouth born of one’s parents can never speak it for you,” has another meaning: cultivation can only be undertaken by oneself, and Buddha-nature must be awakened to by oneself. An ancient worthy said, “What enters through the gate is not a family treasure.” What enters through the ears enters through a gate, since the gates of the six sense faculties all face outward. Principles taken in through the ears are not your own treasure. Only what you awaken to yourself is real. There is no benefit at all in asking me to explain it to you; later you will resent me for it.

This brings to mind Patriarch Xiangyan, who encountered the same problem. Patriarch Xiangyan and Patriarch Guishan were both disciples of Patriarch Baizhang.

Patriarch Xiangyan was thoroughly familiar with the Buddhist scriptures. Whenever someone asked him about the Dharma, he would often answer one question with ten answers, and he considered himself quite remarkable, secretly praising himself: “My wisdom is as vast as the sea!” Yet while Baizhang was still alive, he had not attained realization through Chan practice. After Baizhang passed away, he had no choice but to go to his elder Dharma brother Guishan to study Chan.

Guishan said to him, “Dharma brother, I have heard that under our late teacher Baizhang, when asked one question, you gave ten answers; when asked ten questions, you gave a hundred.” Xiangyan hurriedly replied, “I would not dare.” Guishan said, “That is merely your cleverness and quick wit, conceptual understanding and discriminating consciousness—the root of birth and death. I now have a question for you. Let us see whether you can answer it.”

Outwardly, Xiangyan casually asked, “What question is it?” But inwardly he thought, “What question could there possibly be that I cannot answer? Hmph!” Guishan said, “I will not ask you anything else. I ask only this: before your parents gave birth to you, what was your Original Face? Try saying a single word.” When Patriarch Xiangyan heard this, his mind was utterly blank.

Guishan then went back to his quarters and reviewed from beginning to end the scriptural and treatise passages he had read in ordinary times, seeking a single sentence with which to respond, but in the end he found nothing. He sighed to himself, “A painted cake cannot satisfy hunger.” He repeatedly begged Guishan to explain it plainly. Guishan said, “If I were to explain it to you, you would revile me later. What I say would be mine alone and, in the end, would have nothing to do with you.”

“You should go and investigate for yourself!” Patriarch Xiangyan then burned all the writings he had previously read, took leave of Guishan, and went to investigate on his own. He investigated in the morning and at night, at every moment whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down.

One day, while weeding in the fields, he struck a stone with his hoe. He picked up the stone and casually tossed it away; it hit a bamboo stalk with a crack. He was suddenly awakened and opened to his original nature. He then returned, bathed, burned incense, and from afar paid reverence to his Dharma brother Guishan, praising him: “The Master’s great compassion surpasses that of my parents. Had you explained it to me then, how could there have been what has happened today?”

Thus, the work must be done by oneself. Therefore Patriarch Guishan said to Dongshan, “The mouth given you by your parents will ultimately not speak for you.” Explaining it to you is of no use; you must investigate for yourself. Chan Master Dongshan Liangjie was unable to awaken. Feeling that the opportunity was not right, he asked again, “Is there anyone who, like you, aspires to the Way?” Guishan then directed him to investigate with Chan Master Yunyan.

Dongshan took leave of Guishan and went directly to Yunyan. He recounted the preceding koan of insentient things expounding the Dharma, then asked Chan Master Yunyan, “When insentient things expound the Dharma, who can hear it?” Chan Master Yunyan replied, “The insentient can hear it.” National Master Nanyang Huizhong said, “The sages can hear it,” but Chan Master Yunyan said that the insentient can hear it. In truth, a pure and empty mind is itself sagehood.

Neither sages nor ordinary beings are established; everything is absent. Every thing and every point manifests the wondrous form-body and extends the broad, long tongue to proclaim the sound of Dharma. It speaks blazing and without end; it speaks endlessly and without limit. This is how the insentient expound the Dharma. What, then, does it mean that “the insentient can hear it”? It means that when you have extinguished and entirely eliminated emotional views, and do not cling to any sights, sounds, or objects of the sense-fields, you can hear the insentient expounding the Dharma and awaken to see your true nature.

We have said before that people have two bad things: emotion and thought. If deluded emotion and love are cut off, that is good. Why? Because emotion arises from love, love can produce water, and water by nature flows downward and cannot ascend to heaven; therefore, it must be cut off.

For example, when we encounter food we love to eat, saliva arises. If someone we dearly love is about to leave, or is going far away, tears cannot help but flow. If a loved one dies, we weep even more bitterly. As for the love between men and women, there is no need even to speak of it. Water is by nature moist: all water is moist, and it flows downward.

Thus, the qing in “love” sinks downward. If we wish to be born in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, we must rise upward; if we sink downward, there is no hope. Therefore, we must cut off emotional views completely. If love is not completely cut off, one cannot be born in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss. Thus, emotion is a bad thing.

Thought is somewhat better. This thought is not wild and wandering thought; wild and wandering thought is still emotion. It is because we have emotion that we indulge in such thoughts. For example, if we love someone, we devise every possible means to possess that person. If that person already has a partner, we think of some way to get rid of the partner and then possess that person.

You see this sort of thing written in dramas and novels; without it, they would not become dramas or novels. This creates karma, and karma brings karmic retribution. Wild and wandering thought is really emotional love, and it will not do either.

Then what is this thought? It is the method of cultivation through focused visualization: imagining how we may escape the realm of sentient beings and realize the Original Face; or visualizing the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, fixing the mind on the West, and earnestly practicing Buddha-recitation. This is somewhat better. But ultimately, thought is no more acceptable than emotion.

Why? Without emotion, how could there be thought? Without thought, how could there be emotion? Emotion and thought are inseparable. The Śūraṅgama Sūtra says that if we genuinely cultivate visualization in secret, the seventh consciousness can leave our physical body or transform into the object imagined. This is called “pure thought brings flight,” but it is not yet true purity. When one is truly pure, even thought is absent.

If there is still a Buddha to recite, one is not yet truly pure. When one is truly pure, there is nothing at all; only that is the Land of Eternal Quiescent Light. Yet when we practice Buddha-recitation and seek rebirth in the West, we must not demand too much. It is enough to be born in the Land of the Common Residence of Ordinary Beings and Sages.

Thus, when Buddha-recitation brings emotion to an end, pure thought brings flight, and one can be reborn in the West; it is not difficult. During practice, simply focus exclusively on how wonderful rebirth in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss is, how radiant Amitābha Buddha is, and how he comes to welcome us. When, at parinirvāṇa, we rise in flight, the sacred realm of the West will naturally appear. Seeing Amitābha Buddha, Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva, Mahāsthāmaprāpta Bodhisattva, and the other bodhisattvas coming to welcome us, we shall fly to rebirth in the West.

“Pure thought brings flight” is the manifestation of the sacred realm through the wholesome roots of mature pure karma in Buddha-recitation. At present, when we speak of the Pure Land, we speak only of the West; but the Śūraṅgama Sūtra speaks of the Pure Lands in the ten directions, where one is reborn according to conditions, not only in the Western Pure Land. From this we know that, to seek rebirth in a Pure Land, one must completely cut off emotional love and deluded emotion.

Therefore, accomplished cultivators are free of emotional views; if you have emotion, it will not do. What is a bodhisattva? It is an abbreviation of the Sanskrit bodhisattva, translated into Chinese as “awakened sentient being.” It means first awakening through all one’s own emotional views, not clinging to any sights, sounds, or objects of the sense-fields, and clearly realizing one’s intrinsic nature; only then can one help others awaken from their deluded dreams, sweep away deluded emotion, and leave the sea of suffering together. This is why Chan Master Yunyan said, “The insentient can hear it.”

Dongshan pressed him closely, asking, “Does the Master hear it?” Even now, Dongshan remained thoroughly obtuse. Yunyan replied, “If I heard it, you would not hear me expounding the Dharma.” This was exactly the same as National Master Huizhong’s teaching. If I could hear it, I would not expound the Dharma to you.

Why? First, if I heard it, I would be equal to all the sages. The sambhogakāya and nirmāṇakāya of all the sages are not the true Buddha, nor are they the one who teaches the Dharma. In their true dharmakāya, the sages neither speak nor hear. If I heard it, I would, like the Buddhas and bodhisattvas, have realized the Way. Neither ordinary beings nor sages could then be found; one would abide in neither ordinary being nor sage, and everything would be absent. Could you still hear me expounding the Dharma? Take note: the absence of everything is not annihilationist emptiness.

Rather, it is presence without abiding: speaking yet not speaking, not speaking yet speaking. It is not stubbornly clinging to silence, still less clinging to there being something spoken. All actions and undertakings are merely provisional; there is not even a Buddha, and even the word “Buddha” is a provisional name of expedient means. If there were still something beyond all Buddhas, then a Buddha would not be a Buddha. Therefore, do not abide in appearances. To truly realize the Way is to have not a single thing.

Second, if I heard it, I would be the same as the insentient. The insentient take non-speaking as their true speaking; there are no spoken words. How then could you hear me expounding the Dharma today? Furthermore, if I heard it, I would be attached to the sense-object of sound, with something to which I abide; my dharma-self view would not yet be eliminated. How then could I be a teacher of others? Therefore, I do not hear. Non-hearing is true hearing! That is, “no words are spoken”; there are no words to speak.

You must thoroughly grasp the meaning beyond words. You understand only dharmas expressed in language, dharmas that can be spoken. The words you now hear me speak are all spoken words and are not true reality.

Now, in speaking to you in this way, I want you to grasp the meaning beyond words, to understand beyond words, and thereby clearly see the true speaking that is without speaking and the true hearing that is without hearing. Yet Dongshan still did not understand and asked again, “Why can I not hear it?” He asked Yunyan, “If insentient things expound the Dharma, I should be able to hear it. Why can I not hear it?” He was still attached to

the sense-objects of sound and form. What meaning is there in pursuing them in this way? Why not turn the hearing back to hear your own nature? It shines right before your face! Is this not your naturally hearing and hearing through non-hearing? People in the world are all so obtuse; how pitiful! At this point, Yunyan, like Guishan, raised his whisk.

Had Dongshan seized this moment and asked himself in return, “Who is it that sees this whisk being raised?” and vigorously applied himself right there, he would have awakened immediately. Unfortunately, he missed it again. Yunyan asked, “Do you hear it still?” Though the raised whisk made no sound and spoke no words, the great sound is rarely heard; it was utterly clear, like thunder filling the ears. Why? Because soundless sound is the greatest sound. This is called “the great sound is rarely heard.”

We people are often attached to audible sound and seek understanding where sound can be heard. But if you truly wish to see your nature, you cannot be attached to what is audibly heard. Audible and inaudible sound are merely the arising and ceasing of sound, whereas our faculty of hearing shines before us at every moment; it has neither intervals nor continuity.

Therefore, an ancient worthy said: “After wind and rain, peach blossoms line both banks; where can a horse’s hooves avoid the fallen red petals?”

Both sides of a narrow path are planted thick with peach trees. After a great wind and rain, the path is covered with peach blossoms. When riding a horse through that place, how could its hooves avoid the petals scattered all over the ground and fail to tread on them? This means that Buddha-nature is functioning at all times and in all places; there is no time when it is absent and no place where it is absent. Can you avoid it? Therefore, do not discriminate between appearances and non-appearances, sound and silence.

When we do not see light, we see darkness; seeing darkness is still seeing. When we do not hear sound, we hear silence; hearing silence is still hearing. Is this not evidence that the nature of seeing and the nature of hearing are neither arising nor ceasing?

Unfortunately, Dongshan answered, “I do not hear.” He was attached to sound: because he heard no sound, he said that he did not hear. It was like making alluring eyes at a blind man; he missed it right before his face. What a pity! Yet we must say that it was fortunate that he did not hear. Had there been hearing, he would again have been attached to appearances; non-hearing is true hearing.

Yunyan said, “When I expound the Dharma, you still do not hear it; how much less could you hear insentient things expounding the Dharma?” When I speak to you in this way and raise the whisk, there is no sound, yet there is still a movement. If you neither hear nor comprehend even this, how could you comprehend the true speaking and true movement that are without speech or motion? People in the world are all so foolish: they cling to the karmic delusions of forms and sounds that they see and hear, never turning the light around for a glimpse of the nature that sees and hears, speaks and moves.

This nature is the originally true Buddha! Some even mistakenly think that not hearing a sound means no hearing, and not seeing light, shadows, forms, or appearances means no seeing. Do they not realize that this seeing-nature and hearing-nature are constantly radiating light directly before them, never obscured and never interrupted? Even when there is no sound to hear and no appearance to see, there is still seeing and still hearing. For hearing the absence of sound is still hearing, and seeing the absence of appearances is still seeing. How, then, can one say that there is neither seeing nor hearing?

Dongshan then asked, “What scripture teaches that insentient things expound the Dharma?” This was the same as the question posed to the National Teacher by the monk in the preceding koan. Chan Master Yunyan replied, citing the Amitābha Sūtra: “Have you not seen where it says, ‘Water, birds, and forests all recite the Buddha and recite the Dharma’?”

At this, Chan Master Dongshan Liangjie suddenly awakened somewhat. He had finally entered realization of the soundless through sound; at last he had understood and awakened. He blurted out this verse: “How wondrous! How truly wondrous! Insentient things expounding the Dharma is inconceivable. If one listens with the ears, one will never understand; only by hearing sound at the eye can one know.”

How truly marvelous and strange! That insentient things can expound the Dharma is beyond words and inconceivable, utterly beyond imagination! Can insentient things expound the Dharma? They can. If you use your ears to listen, you cannot understand, for the Dharma expounded by insentient things has no sound. Only by listening with the eyes can you comprehend its subtle wonder.

The eyes cannot hear sound, yet no sound is precisely the wondrous sound. From this it can be seen that Chan Master Dongshan understood sound and, through sound, understood the soundless. But he had not yet understood that the soundless is sound and sound is the soundless; he had not yet reached complete and ultimate realization.

There are many other koans in which awakening occurs through sound. Let us give another example. In former times, Chan Master Yuanwu Keqin served as an attendant under Chan Master Wuzu Fayan and studied Chan with him.

One day, a scholar came to consult Wuzu Fayan. Wuzu said to him, “If you ask about intrinsic nature and the dharmakāya, did you read ‘The Little Beauty Poem’ when you were young? Two lines in that poem are very similar to this: ‘Again and again she calls Little Jade for no reason at all; she only wants her beloved to recognize her voice.’”

This means that she repeatedly calls, “Little Jade! Little Jade!” Little Jade is a maidservant. Why does the young lady call her? For no reason. Then why call her? Her purpose is to let her lover hear the call and know that she is here. In other words, she deliberately sends him a message, for he recognizes her voice; hearing the call, he knows that she is here.

This is using a secular poem to speak of Chan. Let us use this poem to ask in return: Who produces this calling voice? And who hears it? Are these not all functions of intrinsic nature? Are they not all manifestations of true nature? Chan Master Wuzu Fayan’s citation of this poem contains profound meaning.

Originally, all forms and all sounds have no inherent meaning; they are flowers in empty space and the moon reflected in water, all unobtainable. This accords with the first line, “for no reason at all.” Yet everything is a function of intrinsic nature and a manifestation of true nature. This accords with the second line, “recognize her voice.” Its purpose is to inspire us all to recognize our own Original Face.

Yuanwu Keqin, listening nearby, immediately had an awakening. As he left the abbot’s quarters, a large rooster happened to crow loudly, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” from atop the fence. Hearing it, Yuanwu Keqin was suddenly stirred to spiritual insight. Touching upon the word “voice” in Wuzu Fayan’s phrase, “she only wants her beloved to recognize her voice,” he suddenly attained great awakening. Is this not sound? This is the manifestation of intrinsic nature. No image can be apart from a mirror; once apart from the mirror, where could an image remain? Everything whatsoever is a function of true nature and a manifestation of true nature.

From the preceding explanations of several koans, we should not mistakenly interpret hearing sound at the eye as a supernormal power. Many practitioners like spiritual powers and often mistakenly believe that only when the ears can read characters, the eyes can hear sounds, and the six sense faculties function interchangeably and manifest spiritual powers can one hear insentient things expounding the Dharma.

They do not realize that insentient things expounding the Dharma is speaking without speaking. It is not a subtle sound that you can hear only when you no longer listen with your ears or look with your eyes.

Hearing sound at the eye is not a supernormal power. When Chan Master Dongshan said, “Only by hearing sound at the eye can one know,” he meant that we should not abide in the ear faculty. Rather, amid sounds that can be heard without sound, where deluded thoughts do not arise, and where feelings are stirred by circumstances, we should turn the light inward and inwardly comprehend that this wondrous, lucid true mind—in which not a single thought arises—is precisely it.

When we recognize our own Original Face and understand that everything whatsoever is a function and manifestation of the true mind, then we can understand that “the insentient are the sentient, and the sentient are the insentient.”

Mountains, rivers, the great earth, the sun, moon, stars, walls, tiles, and rubble are ourselves! Why? Are not mountains, rivers, and the great earth within empty space? Can they exist outside empty space? No. Our true mind is like empty space: however vast empty space is, so vast is our true mind.

The true mind pervades empty space and the entire dharma realm. The ten dharma realms are all within my mind, and everything in empty space is within my mind; therefore mountains, rivers, and the great earth are not outside my mind. The Zuo Commentary says, “Under all heaven, there is no land that is not the king’s land; along all the shores within his domain, there are none who are not the king’s subjects.”

I am a Buddha, and they too are Buddhas—all are Buddhas! Therefore, “the insentient are the sentient, and the sentient are the insentient.” Furthermore, insentient things are earth, water, fire, and wind. The earth, for example, is composed of the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind. The earth moves, rotating on its axis and revolving in orbit; movement is wind. It has a crust, which is hard; this is the earth element. There is water on its surface and underground; this is the water element. Its core contains intensely hot, molten material, and volcanoes often erupt on its surface; this is the fire element.

The earth possesses all four elements of earth, water, fire, and wind; it is formed by the four great elements. A “seed-nature” is so called because it can give rise to things; thus, the seed-natures of the four great elements can give rise to the myriad things. Our Buddha-nature possesses the seven great elements of earth, water, fire, wind, space, faculties, and consciousness; hence they are called the seven great elements.

All worldly things arise from these seven great elements: “sentient and insentient alike perfect the wisdom of the seed.” Therefore, the insentient are the sentient, and the sentient are the insentient; whether sentient or insentient, all are ourselves. Since all are ourselves, what distinction remains between sentient and insentient? Once this principle is understood, we know that a table is also a Buddha, a chair is also a Buddha, a brick is also a Buddha, and a roof tile is also a Buddha. There is nothing that is not a Buddha. All sentient and insentient things are Buddhas!

We have discussed through koans that the insentient are the sentient, and that “sentient and insentient alike perfect the wisdom of the seed.” Yet many people still do not fully understand. It is therefore necessary to explain further why sentient and insentient are the same, and in what respects they are the same. The following is a summary.

First: all insentient things are things of the wondrously luminous true mind. The true mind is the Buddha-mind; therefore, the insentient are the sentient. The true mind is not, as our deluded mind imagines, obscured by ignorance and shrunk into something as small as a body.

Once your practice opens it up, you discover that it originally pervades empty space and the entire dharma realm. However vast empty space is, so vast is the true mind. Chan Master Xuefeng Yicun said, “The true mind resembles an ancient mirror: however broad and vast empty space is, so broad and vast is the ancient mirror.”

Why is it said to resemble an ancient mirror? “Ancient mirror” means that it did not first come into being in the present age; it illustrates that our true mind has existed since beginningless time. And why is it compared to a mirror? Because a mirror can reflect the myriad things, and the profusion of all appearances can manifest in it. So too does our true mind illuminate the great thousandfold world, encompassing realms as numerous as the sands of the Ganges without obstruction.

“Realms as numerous as the sands” means immeasurable and boundless worlds, too numerous to count, like the sands of the Ganges. There are very many worlds in empty space. Science now proves that extraterrestrial beings exist, and that there is more than one star like the sun. The more advanced science becomes, the more it can prove that what the Buddha taught is true and not false.

Our true mind is like empty space, and all worlds are within our mind. Since the worlds are within our mind, are not insentient things also within our mind? For example, the houses we build are insentient. They are on the earth, the earth is in empty space, and therefore are not the houses also in empty space? Thus all insentient things are within my mind. Because they are within our mind, we say that our true mind spiritually contains the myriad things.

The myriad things are within my true mind, and the true mind is the Buddha-mind. If the myriad things are not Buddhas, what are they? Thus it is said that there is no distinction between insentient and sentient. Why must we understand this principle? Because once we understand that the insentient are the sentient, our mind-capacity becomes vast enough to contain the myriad things, and we no longer cling to appearances and grasp at them. Practice can then more easily advance. Therefore, we must have a correct and clear understanding that the insentient are the sentient. This is the first point.

Second: all insentient things are composed of the four great elements, and the four great elements are elemental seeds of the true mind. For example, the earth is insentient and is also composed of the four great elements of earth, water, fire, and wind. The same is true of a great tree: it is composed of the four great elements and is insentient; neither has emotional attachment.

Does not the earth’s movement—its rotation and revolution—constitute the wind element? Is not its hard crust the earth element? Are not the oceans on the surface and groundwater beneath the surface the water element? Is not the fire within the earth, which emerges in volcanic eruptions, the fire element? Thus all are earth, water, fire, and wind.

Trees are the same. When a tree sways incessantly, is that not because of the wind element? Its trunk is the earth element; if you strip away the bark, water comes forth—this is the water element. The tree itself has the nature of fire and can be burned—is that not the fire element? Thus, all are composed of the four great elements. Earth, water, fire, and wind are the basic elements of our buddha-nature; they are the natures of the four great elements.

A nature is a seed capable of giving rise to things, like rice seed and wheat seed. When rice seed is planted, it grows into rice; when wheat seed is planted, it grows into wheat. Thus, a seed means that which can generate and grow. Our buddha-nature, therefore, is an all-capable substance: all things are created by it, all things are devised by it, and all things are manifested by it. Hence, all things are our buddha-nature! Do not regard them as things outside ourselves; they are all ourselves!

Third point: Who discovers insentient things? Who makes them? Apart from our buddha-nature, they cannot be discovered. For example, suppose there is a tree here with a flower on it. If we do not look at it, who could know that there is a flower on the tree? Then who sees the flower? Is it the eye? It is not the eye.

Modern scientists also understand that it is not the eyes that see things, but the functioning of the brain. For if the brain does not function, the eyes cannot function and cannot see things. Yet scientists only know that the brain enables the six sense faculties to function; they cannot go a step further and know that the brain itself cannot function on its own.

The brain's nerves are merely like an electrical grid. To function, they still need an input of energy—electricity. If no energy is supplied, the brain has no motive power and cannot function. It is like an electric lamp: if the electrical energy does not come, it cannot shine.

What is this energy? It is our buddha-nature. When buddha-nature departs, although the brain remains, it cannot function. Thus, every word and action, every movement and gesture of ours, is the wondrous functioning of buddha-nature. Apart from buddha-nature, we cannot function. Therefore, our ability to see insentient things with our eyes is a manifestation of buddha-nature, and insentient things too are brought about by buddha-nature.

Why is this so? For example, we have a thought: How should this flower be planted and cultivated? We then study the techniques of growing flowers and cultivate them carefully, so that the flowers bloom luxuriantly. What else is this but the functioning of our buddha-nature? If a person's buddha-nature has departed, the body is like a stone. Could that person still use the mind? Could the hands and feet still move? Could flowers still be cultivated? Who built the houses? People built them.

If engineers, craftsmen, and masons were apart from buddha-nature, could their brains still operate, their hands and feet still move, and could they still design plans and construct houses? Thus, all insentient things are also manifestations of our buddha-nature; they are made by buddha-nature. Therefore, apart from buddha-nature, there are no insentient things at all. Could insentient things exist apart from buddha-nature? Absolutely not.

Therefore, insentient things are sentient beings; they are buddha-nature. These insentient things are like images reflected in a mirror, while the mirror is like our true mind and buddha-nature. Our true mind and buddha-nature are great perfect mirror wisdom, which illuminates the ten directions without obstruction; nothing in the worlds of the ten directions is not manifested or seen.

A mirror's reflecting objects is only an analogy; it is insufficient to describe great perfect mirror wisdom. Are the things before us, or the light appearing before our eyes, great perfect mirror wisdom? No, no—they are still far from it. A mirror can manifest images, and the mirror of mind can illuminate all appearances. Images cannot be apart from a mirror. Can an image leave the mirror? Apart from the mirror, the image no longer exists.

An image cannot be apart from a mirror, and appearances cannot be apart from mind. Apart from mind, appearances have nowhere to manifest; without images, there would be no mirror. Likewise, apart from appearances, the true mind would have no means of manifesting itself. The true mind has no appearance that can be seen; it must manifest through phenomenal appearances. Thus, the true mind can bring forth all things, and, conversely, all things manifest the true mind. Mind and appearances are subtle in this way. Therefore, mind is appearance and appearance is mind; an image is the mirror and the mirror is the image. Thus, insentient things are sentient beings. This is the third point.

Fourth point: Insentient things are originally buddha-nature. It is only because of ignorance and nonawakening that we mistakenly take a small portion of the four great elements to be our bodies, discard the vast majority of the four great elements as things outside the body, and designate them as insentient. Hence arises the deluded discrimination between sentient and insentient.

From the examples analyzed above, we can see that all insentient things are originally manifestations of buddha-nature. Sentient beings, simply because of ignorance, unknowingly take a small portion of the four great elements—earth, water, fire, and wind—as their own physical bodies, while discarding more than ninety percent of the four great elements outside themselves as things external to the body. They therefore distinguish:

“This is sentient, and that is insentient.” In fact, everything is oneself. This is the fault of ignorance! Therefore, if we practice effectively and break through ignorance, we will realize that mountains, rivers, the great earth, grasses, trees, and forests—none is other than ourselves.

Taking myself as the center, you and everything around me are images within my mind; taking you as the center, all this is an image within your minds. As a saying aptly puts it: “Each sentient being fully possesses the dharma realm.” What does “the full body of the dharma realm” mean? The dharma realm is the One True Dharma Realm, which is also the true mind. When everything is complete and not even the slightest bit is lacking, this is called the full body.

Full in what sense? Fully possessed by each sentient being, while sentient beings may each possess it. You are you, I am I, and he is he; Zhang San is Zhang San, and Li Si is Li Si. What does each possess? Each possesses the full body of the dharma realm: every person has the true mind, lacking not the slightest fraction.

For example, you are in my mirror and I am in yours; we mutually encompass one another without obstruction. Again, suppose there are many electric lamps in a room: the light of this lamp and the light of that lamp merge with one another, and each light encompasses the others without mutual rejection. From this we may know that insentient things and sentient beings are one body. It is only because we are ignorant and unawakened that we falsely give rise to discrimination. Once ignorance is broken through, we can truly realize the wondrous functioning of the true mind and will no longer regard insentient things as external objects.

Fifth point: Insentient things are earth, wood, metal, and stone. If we practice improperly and suppress deluded thoughts to death, we become insentient, becoming earth, wood, metal, and stone. Earth, wood, metal, and stone are one of the twelve classes of living beings. The Diamond Sūtra speaks of ten classes of living beings, while the Śūraṅgama Sūtra speaks of twelve.

Some say that the six realms of rebirth are all sentient and have nothing whatsoever to do with insentient things. But in fact, if you practice improperly, or engage in the practices of a non-Buddhist path and suppress yourself to death, you may also turn into earth, wood, metal, and stone, becoming insentient. From this perspective, are sentient beings not also insentient?

Therefore, once we understand that mountains, rivers, the great earth, men and women, young and old, sentient and insentient—all are manifestations of our buddha-nature and are all ourselves, our practice must be empty, luminous, and non-abiding: neither grasping nor indulging. Not grasping means that, when deluded thoughts arise, we do not suppress them and forbid them to move, thereby becoming earth, wood, metal, and stone. Not indulging means that we do not let deluded thoughts arise recklessly and wander through birth and death.

With regard to deluded thoughts, neither suppress nor follow them. Let them come; I pay them no heed. Deluded thoughts are not absent; they are present. Deluded thoughts formed over countless kalpas and lives—do you imagine that as soon as you begin practicing, they will disappear? That is hardly easy; it cannot be done. Therefore, in our practice we first cut off coarse delusions. Coarse delusions are the false thoughts produced when we respond to circumstances with a discriminating mind.

How do we quell coarse delusions? We must know that circumstances are unobtainable; they are all shadows manifested by our intrinsic nature. Our true mind is the mirror, and everything else is an image. Hold to the mirror; do not grasp the images. If we do not cling to shadowy appearances, the true mind does not move, deluded thoughts do not arise, and coarse delusions cease. If coarse delusions do not cease, your sitting meditation is in vain.

For example, while sitting in meditation, you think about this and that concerning your son, or about how your daughter is doing, and then you cannot sit well. If your thoughts further proliferate—how to spend your money, what things to buy, how cheap the goods are somewhere, how one person is good and another bad, and so forth—can you still sit well? You cannot.

Coarse delusions must cease. Do not concern yourself with the images in your mind. Images in a mirror cannot be grasped. Someone may say, “The images in a mirror cannot be grasped, but I can grasp the things that appear before me. Look, I have grasped this pen.”

Ah, you are dreaming! This is a dream state. Things in a dream do indeed seem to be grasped: delicious food seems to be eaten, one talks happily with good friends, and one feels alarmed and afraid upon meeting enemies. But when the dream ends, there is nothing at all. What we are experiencing now is a dream state. Do not cling to appearances; none of it can be grasped.

When a single breath does not return, nothing can be taken away. Since you will have no choice but to let go in the future, why not let go early and save some mental effort? If you wish to awaken, you must practice.

Those who recite the Buddha's name and those who uphold mantras must concentrate their mindfulness and cut off deluded thoughts, so that body, mind, and world all vanish and dissolve into emptiness. Only the clear, ever-present true mind then appears before them. It is like awakening from a dream: everything seen and obtained in the dream becomes empty and is gone. What could there be to grasp? Thus, all present appearances are mere shadows—never objects to be sought!

Therefore, it is necessary to explain this clearly to you now, so that you may understand the principle that sentient beings are insentient things. Do not engage in deluded discrimination; let go, let go. Insentient things are sentient beings, and sentient beings are insentient things—what appearance is there still to cling to?

If you truly apply yourselves wholeheartedly, it will be easy to enter samādhi when you sit down to practice. Once coarse delusions have been cut off, subtle delusions will still come to intrude. Do not fear them, nor suppress them; simply disregard them. At the point where deluded thoughts cease, the true mind manifests. “When arising and ceasing have ceased, quiescent cessation appears before one.” This is nirvāṇa.

Neither arising nor ceasing is nirvāṇa; continual arising and ceasing is the deluded mind. When all deluded thoughts and deluded emotions have been extinguished, this buddha-nature that neither arises nor ceases manifests.

Why is it that you cannot sit properly when practicing? You must reflect on yourself: What is your mind still clinging to? Why do you still cling to it? Quickly let it go! Everything is but a shadow within our minds—why cling to it? It cannot be grasped; it is false, it is empty. Let it go! If you truly let go, whether you recite the Buddha’s name or uphold a mantra, subject and object will both vanish, the sense faculties and their objects will fall away, and your buddha-nature will naturally reveal itself in awakening.

Whether you have seen your true nature or not, do not ask others; experience it for yourself. The supreme flavor of awakening is like a mute person dreaming: it cannot be told to others, though one understands it inwardly.

I have repeatedly discussed the question of form and formlessness, striving to explain it clearly and thoroughly. My purpose is to ensure that everyone’s view is correct. This is precisely the essential meaning of first establishing the view in Mahāmudrā. Taking understanding and view as its principle is the heart of the Buddhadharma. Only when one’s view is correct and one recognizes what buddha-nature is can one readily begin the work of practice. If one does not recognize buddha-nature, one cannot avoid practicing blindly. Thus, Mahāmudrā is not merely a mudrā and a mantra for us to practice; it first explains the principle of the view, corrects one’s understanding, and enables one to recognize what buddha-nature is.

From the foregoing discussion, I believe everyone has now understood such questions as why the insentient are precisely the sentient, why all insentient things are Buddhas, and how “the sentient and insentient alike perfect the wisdom of all-aspects.”

Once you truly understand that “the sentient and insentient alike perfect the wisdom of all-aspects,” then, if someone asks you, “What is Buddha?” you will not be left staring blankly and at a loss. Simply point to any object. Above heaven and below earth, above the sun and below the moon, inside and outside the window, bright flowers and dark willows—all these insentient things are Buddha! Whatever you casually pick up becomes a wondrous truth; how convenient that is.

Above, we discussed the insentient expounding the Dharma. How do the insentient expound the Dharma? We explained one level of principle: dharmas that can be spoken in words or heard as sounds are not the true Dharma. The true Dharma is beyond speaking: “The path of words is cut off, and the way of mental activity is extinguished.” That is, words cannot reach it and thought cannot grasp it. Any dharma involving words and speech is not the true Dharma.

Although we cannot hear the insentient expounding the Dharma, they are indeed expounding it, because the greatest sound is rarely heard. Non-speaking is true speaking; non-hearing is true hearing. Hearing sound is not the true Dharma. Thus it is said, “If you listen with the ears, you will ultimately find it hard to comprehend; only when the eyes hear sound can it be known.”

You may have a question in your mind: If no sound can be heard, how can it be said that the insentient are expounding the Dharma? Because the truly wondrous, profound, and subtle meaning cannot be expressed; it can only be apprehended in silent understanding and known spiritually.

If you abide in words and speech, you will not realize the true meaning. Hence it is said, “If you listen with the ears, you will ultimately find it hard to comprehend.” Do not abide in sound! The wondrous meaning cannot be heard: “Only when the eyes hear sound can it be known.” Why? The insentient expound the Dharma when circumstances stir feeling and the mind receives the meaning: it is a subtle spiritual state in which the mind opens and meaning is understood through hearing without hearing.

When, in practice and inquiry, you reach the point of non-speaking and non-hearing, where deluded thoughts do not arise, you can encounter circumstances, have your feelings stirred, and grasp their profound meaning. Just as Dongshan asked his two teachers, “Can you hear the insentient expounding the Dharma?” Both teachers gave the same answer: “If I could hear it, you would not hear me expounding the Dharma.”

This means that true hearing is non-hearing. If I could hear it, I would be attached to appearances; and if I were attached to appearances, I would not be qualified to expound the Dharma to you. This was the point explained last time; we can add something further.

The true dharmakāya of all Buddhas is without speaking and hearing. The sambhogakāya and nirmāṇakāya are not the true Buddha; they involve speaking and hearing. Therefore, “The sambhogakāya and nirmāṇakāya are not the true Buddha, nor are they the one who teaches the Dharma.” If there is speaking and hearing, can one still remain attached to words and speech? As just explained, if I could hear, I would be the same as all Buddhas—I would be a Buddha. The true dharmakāya of all Buddhas is without speaking; therefore, I could not expound the Dharma here. If I can expound the Dharma, then I am not the same as all Buddhas. This is another level of meaning.

We ordinary beings are attached to appearances at every moment. Whenever the eyes see an object or the ears hear a sound, we immediately use our own views to discriminate good and bad, beauty and ugliness. Those who have truly seen their nature, amid all sounds and forms, see without seeing and hear without hearing. But if one abides in the dust of sound or in forms and appearances, one becomes an ordinary being.

Therefore, it is said that if I could hear, I could not expound the Dharma to you. If I heard, I would be attached to appearances. Once attached to appearances, would I still be qualified to expound the Dharma to you? No. Below, I shall summarize several meanings implicit in the patriarch’s words:

First, if I could hear, I would be attached to the dust of sound and would have something to which I abide. Subject and object would stand opposed, attachment to dharmas would not have been eliminated, and I would not be a person of the Way; thus, I would not be qualified to expound the Dharma.

Second, if I could hear, I would be the same as the insentient. The insentient take non-speaking as true speaking, not verbal speech; therefore, you would not hear me expounding the Dharma.

Third, if I could hear, I would be equal to the sages. Yet the reward and manifestation bodies of the sages are not the true Buddha, nor are they the ones who teach the Dharma. The true dharmakāya of the sages is without speaking and hearing. What I now say to you is merely an expedient means of guiding you.

III. The Five Ranks of Lord and Minister in the Caodong School

We discuss these principles in order to help you all understand that forms and sounds cannot be grasped, so that you may at all times empty and purify your minds and preserve the true mind. Without preserving the true mind, one cannot realize the Way. To preserve the true mind, one must first have correct understanding and view, and see the true mind’s intrinsic nature. Why must this be so? We may use the Chan school to verify it.

Someone may ask: The Ganges Mahāmudrā of which we speak belongs to Esoteric Buddhism, so how can we use Chan koans from The Compendium of the Five Lamps to verify it? Because the principles taught in Esoteric Buddhism are exactly the same as those of the Chan school and the Pure Land school, without the slightest difference.

In all schools of the Buddhadharma, terminology may differ, but the ultimate principle is the same. Thus Pure Land is Esoteric Buddhism, Esoteric Buddhism is Chan, and Chan is Pure Land. All are methods for realizing the Way taught by the Buddha; only the means employed differ, while the fruition they realize is not different.

The Ganges Mahāmudrā is the highest vehicle of Esoteric Buddhism and is very close to the Chan school. Therefore, it must be verified through Chan principles. Among the five houses of Chan, what is taught by the Caodong school corresponds most closely with Esoteric Buddhism. The Caodong school teaches the Five Ranks of Lord and Minister, five positions by which we open the Buddha’s knowledge and vision from the knowledge and vision of ordinary beings.

Opening the Buddha’s knowledge and vision is the stage of seeing the Way. The next stage is the stage of cultivating the Way; after that comes the stage of realizing the Way, in which the fruition of Buddhahood is attained. The five positions include these three successive stages—the stage of seeing the Way, the stage of cultivating the Way, and the stage of realizing the Way—and this is the same as what Mahāmudrā teaches. Mahāmudrā likewise begins with the stage of seeing the Way.

How does the Caodong school see the Way? It speaks of the upright position and the partial position. The upright position represents essence, emptiness, and principle; the partial position represents function, form, and phenomena.

The first position: “Within the upright, there is the partial. Before the moon shines in the first watch of the night, do not blame us for meeting without recognizing one another; faintly, old resentments still remain.” This is the position of ordinary beings. Ordinary beings are like the night before the moon appears in the first watch: utterly dark.

Why? Because they do not know what buddha-nature is. They recognize only external forms, and, covered by ignorance, their minds are entirely dark. “Do not blame us for meeting without recognizing one another”: every moment, we dwell within buddha-nature and meet buddha-nature, yet we do not recognize it.

In our everyday activities of eating, drinking, rising, and resting, if buddha-nature were not functioning, how could we move at all? For example, when we rise in the morning, wash our faces, brush our teeth, go out, buy vegetables, go to work, and carry out our duties—who is doing these things? Who is this? We may as well ask ourselves as Chan asks, “Who is reciting the Buddha’s name?”

You say: if it is not intrinsic nature, then who is it? Since it is intrinsic nature, why do we meet without recognizing one another? Do not complain that intrinsic nature is difficult to recognize. In truth, it is because we are attached to appearances, ignorant, and without wisdom. Ignorance is like the dark night: in the vast darkness, how could we recognize one another when we meet? “Faintly, old resentments still remain”: “faintly” means not clearly apparent.

The habitual tendencies of ordinary attachment are faintly at work there. We merely greedily seek, pursue, and cling to external things, unwilling to turn the light inward and examine who it is that can move and who it is that can function. If we can turn the light inward and ask, “Who is this?” then we will recognize it.

Thus, “within the upright, there is the partial” means that we originally abide in the upright position of principle and buddha-nature, but because we are unaware of it, we fall into the partial position and become attached to phenomenal appearances there. The upright position is the essence of principle; the partial position is form and appearance. The upright is emptiness; the partial is existence. Emptiness and existence, principle and phenomena, essence and appearance are all relative. This is the partial within the upright: attachment to the partial position. The five great schools of Chan differ in their methods of guiding people, but the principles taught by the Caodong school are easy to understand. This is the first position—the position of ordinary beings, who do not recognize buddha-nature.

The second position: “Within the partial, there is the upright. At dawn, an old woman encounters an ancient mirror; clearly face to face, there is no other reality—do not, still deluded, mistake the reflection for your head.” This is the stage of seeing the Way. In the everyday activities of the partial position, the essence of principle now appears: amid dressing and eating, one realizes at every moment that it is one’s own buddha-nature that is functioning. One has seen the Way; this is the stage of seeing the Way.

Earlier, we spoke of complete darkness; now there is brightness. “Dawn” means daybreak: the sky is about to grow light, and sunlight appears. The phrase “old woman” is wonderfully expressive. What does “old woman” mean? An old woman has white hair; as day is about to break, whiteness becomes visible. “Encountering an ancient mirror” means looking into a mirror. A mirror is bright and thus symbolizes light.

When an old woman encounters an ancient mirror, dawn has broken and brightness has appeared. When practitioners exert themselves to this dawning light, they see their own intrinsic nature. Thus it is said, “At dawn, an old woman encounters an ancient mirror.” “Clearly face to face, there is no other reality” means that a reflection appears in the mirror. “Clearly” means plainly and distinctly; “face to face” means directly before one another.

You meet face to face with the reflection in the mirror. The reflection appearing in the mirror is you, and you are the mirror. Apart from this reflection, is there any other reality? There is none. Thus it is said, “Clearly face to face, there is no other reality.”

For example, when Master Lingyun opened the door and saw a stretch of peach blossoms in full bloom, he was suddenly greatly awakened: “Ah! If it is not my own nature that manifests this appearance, then whose manifestation is it? Apart from my own nature, where could these peach blossoms be seen? Conversely, apart from the image of the peach blossoms, how could the mirror of my own nature be manifested?” Thus, with a backward glance of the light, he recognized that what was plainly before his face was nothing other than the true reality, and he saw his original nature. Likewise, Patriarch Dongshan awakened when he saw his own reflection while crossing a river.

Earlier, he had asked about insentient things expounding the Dharma. His teacher explained it to him, and although he had some awakening, he did not yet understand it thoroughly and still had some doubts.

One day, as he was about to cross a river, he lowered his head to roll up his trouser legs and saw his own reflection appear in the water. “Ah!” Only then was he suddenly greatly awakened, and he composed this verse: “Never seek it from another, for it will grow ever more distant from you. Now I go on alone; everywhere I encounter it. It is now precisely I, yet I am not it. One must understand in this way to accord with suchness.”

What does this verse mean? “Never seek it from another” means that when we cultivate the Dharma and study the Way, we should not chase after things outside ourselves or seek from others. Only what we awaken to ourselves is real. For example, those of us who recite the Buddha’s name recite Amitābha Buddha’s name and pray to Amitābha Buddha in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss: “Come pull me along! Come pull me along!”

This is seeking from another, and it is incorrect. Therefore, Master Lianchi said that Buddha-recitation is “with every sound, awakening the master of the house.”

Buddha-recitation is meant to awaken the master of our own house. Do not remain confused, do not fall asleep, and do not cling to appearances; be awake! The myriad appearances are all images within the mind; do not cling to appearances! Our capacity for awareness is Buddha-nature; it is Amitābha Buddha. To seek from another is to seek outwardly.

To pray outwardly and ask Amitābha Buddha to pull you along is mistaken. Amitābha Buddha gives rise to the great compassion that is without conditions: there is no one he does not receive and no one he does not save. But he does not pull you along; rather, he emits light to illuminate and guide you. You need only enter that light. To expect Amitābha Buddha to come and pull you along will not do.

Therefore, Chan Master Yongming Yanshou said: “When a practitioner’s pure karma has matured, the mind-ground is pure and accords with the Buddha; only then does one see the Buddha appear before one and guide one to rebirth in the West. Though the Buddha appears before one, there is in fact no coming or going. It is like the moon in the sky, appearing simultaneously in a thousand rivers and ten thousand waters, while the moon itself is not divided. The mind is like water: if the mind is impure, it is like turbid water, in which no reflection appears.”

“Therefore, one whose mind is confused and disordered is like a person blind from birth who cannot see the sun, even though the Buddha emits light to guide them.”

The Buddha is like the moon in the sky, while the mind with which we recite the Buddha’s name is like water. If the water is clear, the moon’s reflection appears in it, and the image of the Buddha appears in your mind. If the mind that recites the Buddha’s name is impure, then although the moon shines upon you just the same, your mind is like muddy, polluted water, and the moon’s reflection cannot appear. Amitābha Buddha is no longer seen.

Therefore, “Never seek it from another.” If you look and seek outwardly, it will “grow ever more distant from you.” To seek outside the mind is to be a hundred and eight thousand li away from Buddha-nature.

Buddha-nature is nowhere else; it shines from your very face. Who is it that sees things? Who is it that hears sounds? Who is it that smells fragrance and stench? Who is it that speaks? Who is it that moves? If this is not my Buddha-nature, what is it? Why seek it from another? “Now I go on alone” means that, wherever and whenever I may be, I neither grasp nor reject external things. Everything is “alone,” absolute; no duality and no opposites are seen.

The absolute true mind is “alone”: absolute, without a single thing, and without opposites. When Emperor Wu of Liang asked, “What is the highest meaning of the noble truth?” Patriarch Bodhidharma replied, “Vast emptiness—nothing holy.” Emperor Wu then asked, “Who is standing before me?” The Patriarch replied, “I do not know.”

Why did he say, “I do not know”? Knowing is relative: you know me, and I know you. But I am one alone—the absolute true mind. It is absolute; who is there to know whom? With the absolute true mind, to speak of knowing or not knowing is to speak from two sides.

If one can be like this, then “everywhere I encounter it”: at all times and in all places, this absolute true mind can manifest, and at all times and in all places one can see the self-nature of suchness. “It is now precisely I”: it refers to the reflection. Mountains, rivers, the great earth, the sun, moon, stars, and all other things are none other than my reflections; all are my manifestations.

But “I am not it”: this dharmakāya of mine is without appearance. Although all reflections are my manifestations, I am not the reflections. That is, although all these appearances are none other than me, I am not any of these appearances, because the dharmakāya is without appearance. Even if you were to remove all appearances, since none of them is me, I would not be diminished in the least.

Therefore, do not cling to appearances. All appearances are unobtainable; not establishing a single dharma is correct. “One must understand in this way to accord with suchness.” Practitioners should understand in this way; only then can the true mind abide constantly and accord with the unmoving suchness, without being swayed by any circumstances or objects.

No place is apart from my true mind; it follows like a shadow follows a form. Therefore, at every moment we should not pursue anything outwardly. To recite the Buddha’s name is to be mindful of one’s own mind. To recite Amitābha Buddha’s name is to awaken one’s own mind and cease clinging to appearances.

“When the old woman who had lost her dawn encounters an ancient mirror, what is plainly before her face is nothing other than the true.” This is you! If you leave it and seek elsewhere, you will not find it; there will be nothing. Therefore, we repeatedly point out to you all that this true mind and aware nature are oneself; apart from them, there is nothing at all.

If you think that what lacks the five supernormal powers—divine eye, divine ear, knowledge of past lives, knowledge of others’ minds, and spiritual travel—is not the true mind and aware nature, then you are mistaken.

Although, through instruction, you have recognized the wondrously luminous fundamental essence—the true mind and aware nature—you still have a great many habitual tendencies of deluded thoughts and attachments accumulated over countless lives and kalpas, and they have not yet been removed. How could supernormal powers arise all at once? It is like a mirror covered with a thick accumulation of dust: how can it reflect things? You must wipe and polish it until it is bright, and then it can shine forth clearly.

But first you must obtain the mirror. If you do not obtain the mirror, what could you wipe or polish? Therefore, after receiving instruction and recognizing what the wondrously luminous fundamental essence is, you must diligently remove habitual tendencies, restore the luminosity of our fundamental essence, and then bring forth its various wondrous functions, accomplish the great Way, and fully possess all spiritual powers.

Therefore, Chan Master Guifeng said: “Recognize the frozen pond as entirely water—delusion in its entirety is itself true—and borrow the warmth of the sun to melt it away. Awaken to the fact that the ordinary being is itself Buddha—ordinary beings are Buddhas—and rely on the power of the Dharma for permeating cultivation—only after awakening can one cultivate. When the ice melts, the water flows and moistens, thus revealing its power to irrigate and cleanse. When delusion is exhausted, the mind becomes empty and unobstructed—falsehood is swept away and defilement cleared—and its function of responding, manifesting, and radiating unobstructed light appears, clearly illuminating the myriad things and the whole universe. Supernormal transformations in phenomena cannot be accomplished in a single day; they emerge through gradual permeating cultivation.”

In studying Buddhism and cultivating the Dharma, the first essential is to recognize one’s original nature and be certain that this which can speak and act is our true mind. Stand firm at the root, without the slightest doubt; then safeguard it well, bring it forth in full radiance, and realize the noble fruition. Mahāmudrā requires us first to affirm Buddha-nature and then begin the work of practice.

If this point cannot be affirmed, one will have no way to begin later, and the practice cannot be accomplished. Therefore, Patriarch Dongshan spoke well: “What is plainly before one’s face is nothing other than the true.” Apart from this reflection, if you seek elsewhere, there is nothing to find. Buddha-nature is our capacity for awareness: the capacity that knows cold and warmth, shade and sunshine, fullness and hunger, pain and itch. You must safeguard it at every moment.

The final line, “Do not remain deluded, mistaking the reflection for the head,” means that you yourselves should no longer be deluded and should no longer chase after reflections. The story of mistaking the reflection for the head is an example spoken by the Buddha in the Śūraṅgama Sūtra.

The Buddha said that in the city of Śrāvastī there was an actor named Yajñadatta. One day, he looked into a mirror and saw only the face made up for performance reflected in it, but did not see his own Original Face. Mistaking it for a monster, he was so frightened that he ran about wildly for no reason and went outside to search for his head. Yet his head was still upon his shoulders and had never been lost.

This is a metaphor to urge us not to be deluded by external appearances and thereby mistake our Original Face. Yet you still mistake reflections for reality at every moment. In fact, those reflections are illusory appearances manifested by you; why take the false for the true? Women find it hardest to let go of their children and think of them all day long.

And what about men? The young are fond of girlfriends, while the old are fond of money. Confucius said well: “When young, before one’s vital energies are settled, one should guard against sexual desire. … When old, as one’s vital energies decline, one should guard against acquisitiveness.” All this is greedily mistaking reflections for reality. Do not mistake reflections for reality. Let go. “Do not remain deluded, mistaking the reflection for the head” means that amid the myriad false appearances—the biased—one recognizes the true mind—the upright—and is no longer deluded by reflections. This is the second position: the upright within the biased—the stage of seeing the Way.

The third position is: “Coming from within the upright: from within emptiness there is a path that leaves the dust. If only one does not violate the present taboo, one surpasses the eloquent worthies of former dynasties whose tongues were cut out.” This is the stage of cultivation. Previously, we discussed the stage of seeing the Way. The upright is the upright position, the upright position being the essential principle. To arise from the essential principle and function within activity, tempering oneself in function until one’s habitual tendencies are entirely worn away—this is coming from within the upright.

“From within emptiness there is a path that leaves the dust.” We say that all things are nonexistent and empty, but this nonexistence and emptiness are not annihilationist emptiness or absolute nothingness. This nonexistence, this emptiness, is the essential principle of not clinging to any appearance. If at every moment you can be empty and not cling to appearances, and follow this path, you can leave the three realms and emerge from saṃsāra.

In truth, when we are empty, empty, empty at every moment, it is not the emptiness that stands in opposition to existence; it is not annihilationist emptiness. Do not fear falling into emptiness. The ancients said: “Empty, empty, empty—in emptiness one achieves success. Once the roots have been cultivated, why fear snow and wind?”

When the mind is truly empty and pure, Buddha-nature manifests. Before us appears a bright, broad road by which we can leave behind the dusty realm of the three realms.

We sentient beings are all amid the dust of the desire realm, form realm, and formless realm, revolving through the six realms with no end in sight. If we can truly stand firm at every moment, clearly recognize our own intrinsic nature, and constantly safeguard it, then whenever a thought arises, immediately become aware of it and remove it, we can leave the three realms, emerge from the sea of suffering, and accomplish the great Way.

For example, when deluded thoughts arise in those of us who recite the Buddha’s name, we raise the Buddha’s name: “Amitābha Buddha.” This cuts off your deluded thoughts, cuts off your attachments, and cuts off your afflictions. When anger flares up, immediately recite “Amitābha Buddha.” If that is still not effective, recite “Amitābha Buddha” aloud or loudly. In this way, you cut off your afflictions.

If you do not do this, you will be carried away by circumstances, with deluded thoughts flying about without cease. How can you realize the Way? Therefore, the first essential is to recognize your own Original Face and know that it is the appearance of the formless, an all-capable essence that can give rise to wondrous functioning. Constantly safeguard it and temper yourself amid all favorable and adverse circumstances. Only then can you attain liberation. This is most important. Hence the saying, “Within nonbeing there is a road that leads beyond the dust.”

“If one can simply avoid touching the taboos of the present age, that is better than the eloquence of having one’s tongue cut out under a former dynasty.” This is even better put. What is a taboo? When people give names, they observe naming taboos. For example, if an emperor’s name contains the character zheng (正), then your own names may not use that character; it must be avoided, for one may not have the same name as the emperor.

Likewise, if the names of your father or grandfather contain the character ming (明), then your own name may not use ming; it should be avoided, since it is inappropriate to share a name with one’s elders. “Not touching the present ruler”: the present ruler means the emperor. This serves as an analogy for our Buddha-nature; that is, one must never violate it.

Take my fist as an example. To call it a fist is to offend it, but if it is a fist and you do not call it a fist, you violate it. To offend it is wrong, and to violate it is also wrong. What does it mean not to offend it? It means that when one has truly applied oneself in practice and recognized one’s own Buddha-nature, one must still not keep saying, “This is my Buddha-nature.”

To abide in Buddha-nature is also unacceptable. Even if one’s practice reaches the point where awareness itself is gone, one must not abide there. Thus it is said: “If there is awareness and illumination, one is still within birth and death and cannot attain liberation. To abide in a sacred state is also conditioned and cannot be ultimate.” Ordinary beings, to be sure, have neither awareness nor illumination; all day long they are muddled and confused, as though dreaming.

Laozi once said, “People of the world are clear and sharp; I alone am muddled.” If the people of the world are all muddled and confused, how can they be called clear and sharp? Those who are “clear and sharp” are clever in pursuit of fame and profit. But by “muddled,” Laozi meant that one’s practice has reached the ultimate point: great wisdom seems like foolishness, and there is not the slightest abiding.

Therefore, in practice one must both recognize one’s intrinsic nature and not abide in it, thinking that one has attained something. This is what “not offending the present” means. The Sūtra of Perfect Enlightenment says: “At all times, do not give rise to deluded thoughts; yet, with regard to deluded mind, do not seek to extinguish it. Dwelling amid the realm of delusion, do not superimpose any further knowing. In the absence of such knowing, do not discern what is the ultimate reality.” Only when practice reaches this point is it ultimate.

Thus, in the end, even a Buddha cannot be obtained. “Cannot be obtained” does not mean that one does not become a Buddha; it is precisely becoming a Buddha. For Buddha is also merely a provisional name, and not a single thread is obtainable. If you suppose that there is a Buddha to be attained, you have not yet become a Buddha. As the teacher of Chan Master Dongshan said in the koan mentioned earlier: “If I were to hear the insentient speak the Dharma, I would be equal to all the sages.”

To be equal to all the sages means that there is a Buddha in my mind; but if there is a Buddha, that is not the true Buddha. Therefore, even the view that one is equal to the Buddha entails an obstacle at the stage of Buddhahood. Thus, only when you have not even the knowledge and views of Buddha, when everything is entirely clear and pure, is there true purity. Hence: “So long as one does not offend the present taboo, one surpasses the talented men of former dynasties who had their tongues cut out.”

There is an allusion here. Long ago, there was a man whose name I have forgotten. His wisdom was extraordinarily great. When the emperor and corrupt ministers cut out his tongue, he used the blood from his severed tongue to write characters. Yet our realization of the Way far surpasses the talent of a man with a severed tongue. Such talent is only worldly cleverness and eloquence, a small wisdom; prajñā is great wisdom. This concerns practice—the third position.

The fourth position is: “Arriving within the reciprocal. When two blades meet in combat, there is no need to evade them. A skilled hand is like a lotus in fire, naturally possessing the aspiration to soar to the heavens.” Some say it was originally not called “arriving within the reciprocal.” Chan Master Dongshan Liangjie said “arriving within the reciprocal,” but this was perhaps a printing error; it should be “arriving within the biased.” I believe this explanation is correct.

“Arriving within the reciprocal” means that the upright and biased are combined, that is, joined together. The third position, “coming from within the upright,” indicates that one functions from within the noumenal essence of the upright position. The fourth position should then explain that, amid the everyday affairs of the biased position, one can achieve the nonobstruction of principle and phenomena. Therefore, “arriving within the biased” is correct. “Arriving within the biased” means that, throughout the day while engaged in affairs, one does not depart from the upright position, achieves the nonobstruction of principle and phenomena, fears neither adverse circumstances nor afflictions, and gives rise to wondrous functioning. This too is a stage of cultivating the Way.

“When two blades meet in combat, there is no need to evade them.” In battle, when swords and spears come and go, do not be afraid and need not dodge them. This is an analogy for not fearing or becoming troubled amid any adverse circumstance. If there is a disobedient child in your household, you should not become distressed.

Ah! None of this can be obtained—none of it can be obtained. Let the child be disobedient; you need only spend a little more money. Go ahead and spend it, because I owe you a debt; when one owes a debt, one repays it. It is only right. It does not matter, so do not become troubled.

“When two blades meet in combat, there is no need to evade them.” When adversity comes, can you evade it? You cannot, so there is “no need to evade.” Speaking of evasion recalls a koan. A disciple asked Chan Master Dongshan, “When cold and heat come, how can one avoid them?” Chan Master Dongshan said, “Go to the place where there is neither cold nor heat.”

The disciple again asked, “What is the place where there is neither cold nor heat?” Dongshan said, “When it is cold, the venerable one freezes to death; when it is hot, the venerable one swelters to death!” What does this mean? When it is warm, do not form the thought of warmth; when it is cold, do not form the thought of cold. If thoughts of cold and warmth arise, discriminating mind arises, and afflictions appear before you.

What should one do when adversity stands before one? Two lines of poetry put it well: “Make the boiling cauldrons and charcoal furnaces cease with a single breath; command the sword trees and knife mountains to crumble with a single shout.” Boiling cauldrons, charcoal furnaces, sword trees, and knife mountains—I do not fear them in my mind. With one breath I make them cease; with one great shout I destroy them. Let adversity come as it may: if my mind does not move, it ceases.

Take note: this does not mean that, when adversity comes, I think about how to evade it, nor does it mean trying to eliminate afflictions. Rather, we must let our minds rest. Nothing matters; nothing can be obtained; there is nothing to fear. If you want to kill me, then come and kill me: “I offer my head to the white blade, as though a spring breeze were being cut.” My mind does not move. Let adversity come as it may; I do not evade it—this is “when two blades meet in combat, there is no need to evade them.” My mind does not waver and is not afraid—this is what “make them cease with a breath; command them to crumble with a shout” means.

“Arriving within the reciprocal” concerns the stage of cultivating the Way. Cultivating the Way means constantly tempering ourselves amid adverse circumstances, neither startled nor fearful, and able to withstand tests. Only then can we realize the wondrous fruition through genuine practice. Thus: “A skilled hand is like a lotus in fire, naturally possessing the aspiration to soar to the heavens.” One who is truly skillful is one whose practice has advanced; such a person is not like a lotus blooming in a pond, but like a lotus blooming in fire. Therefore, Chan Master Dahui Zonggao said that lay practitioners have twenty times the strength of monastics.

Chan Master Dahui Zonggao was an outstanding great patriarch of the Chan school. He said, “Such great elders as Yang Wengong, Li Wenhe, and Zhang Wujin thoroughly penetrated it; their strength surpassed that of us monastics twentyfold.” These three were lay practitioners of the time who had realized the Way.

Why did Chan Master Dahui say this? Because our habitual tendencies are heavy. We have both discriminative attachment to self and discriminative attachment to dharmas, and moreover the innate twofold attachments to self and dharmas. Even if one suddenly opens to one’s original nature and directly realizes Buddha-nature, the innate twofold attachments have not yet been cast off. The third verse of the Consciousness-Only Verses says: “Upon arousing the initial resolve and reaching the Ground of Joy, the innate [attachments] still manifest, binding and dormant.”

Without undergoing a period of arduous tempering after awakening, and without wearing away the innate twofold attachments amid circumstances and affairs, one cannot easily reach the ultimate ground. Monastics have “one robe and one bowl; in their daily responses to conditions, they do not have so many hostile adversaries that obstruct the Way. With one mind, they investigate this matter.” But laypeople, “whether opening or closing their eyes, encounter nothing but resentful foes that obstruct the Way.”

Monastics “fight their way in from outside,” while laypeople “fight their way out from inside.” What do “inside” and “outside” mean here? Inside what, and outside what? They refer to worldly dust and toil. Worldly dust and toil are like “a great mass of fire,” conditions that obstruct the Way.

Monastics dwell in a pure place where they are not burdened by family and relatives. They are like those outside a great fire, like white lotuses in a pond. Laypeople dwell amid worldly dust and toil. They are like those inside a great fire; if they can realize the Way, they are like red lotuses in fire. Chan Master Dahui said, “Those who fight their way in from outside have weaker strength; those who fight their way out from inside have stronger strength.”

All sages throughout history who realized the Way endured every hardship, suffered greatly, labored greatly, and underwent all manner of trials before realizing the Way. If one fears hardship and fatigue, and cannot withstand the tempering and testing of adverse circumstances, one cannot realize the Way.

Our fundamental teacher, Śākyamuni Buddha, also endured every hardship and underwent all manner of trials. At last, seated beneath the bodhi tree, he made a great vow: “If I do not realize the great Way, I will never rise from this seat!” Then, on the night of the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, he saw the morning star and realized the great Way.

In a previous life, even when King Kali cut and mutilated Śākyamuni Buddha’s body, his mind did not move. What a great resolve for the Way! He set us an example: in cultivating the Way, one must possess this kind of steadfast patience through hardship in order to attain accomplishment.

Speaking of circumstances that temper body and mind, there is actually no need deliberately to seek suffering for oneself. Even now, we constantly find ourselves amid all kinds of adverse circumstances. As the proverb says, “Things that go contrary to one’s wishes are eight or nine out of ten.” In everyday life, adverse circumstances that conflict with our wishes arise at every moment.

There are now many disasters in the world. Contention over self and others arises everywhere, right and wrong proliferate, and each sentient being has their own karmic obstacles; every household has its troubles. Some people do not yet know suffering—this is “the suffering of suffering.” Fortunately, we now know to cultivate the Way. We must stand firm, not be moved by these dreamlike, dusty, shadowy affairs, not fear hardship, and press courageously ahead. Until we realize the Way, we vow never to rest. Thus, “A capable hand is like a lotus in the fire.”

“Clearly possessed of an ambition that soars to the heavens”: a true person has great aspirations that soar to the heavens, fears neither hardship nor adversity, and does not bow before setbacks or failure. To cultivate the Way, one must have the bearing of a true person—able to practice great giving, unconstrained by minor details; unafraid when adversity comes and not delighted when favorable circumstances arrive; proceeding according to one’s own course and pressing courageously ahead. Without such bearing, it is difficult to succeed in practice.

The reason Śākyamuni Buddha taught the Pure Land school was that he feared we might be timid and fainthearted, afraid that the journey was too long and thus not dare to practice. Therefore, he spoke of a good place to rest along the way: in the West there is a Land of Ultimate Bliss, and when your life comes to an end, Amitābha Buddha will come to guide you to rebirth there. Go there with confidence; do not be afraid! Thus, the Buddha Dharma is best because it provides everything: there are teachings for the timid and teachings for the bold.

In fact, the Chan school is not dangerous. You need only make a great vow: “I shall certainly become a Buddha and liberate sentient beings; until I succeed, I vow never to rest!” Sustained by this great vow, you will never lose your human body; when you emerge again, hearing one teaching will bring a thousand awakenings. Frankly speaking, those who fear hardship do not easily become Buddhas, because they cannot temper their habitual tendencies.

Do not suppose that in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss there is no need to cultivate, and that one can simply enjoy oneself comfortably and thereby realize the Way. How could it be so easy? The sūtras say that the water, birds, and sounds of the wind in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss all proclaim the sound of the Dharma. What Dharma sound do they proclaim? “They expound the sounds of suffering, emptiness, impermanence, and nonself.”

They teach us not to cling to that beautiful world, indulge in pleasure, and neglect diligent practice. That world too is empty and illusory; clinging brings suffering. All appearances are impermanent; there is nothing to grasp and nothing to which one should remain attached. We must let go, let go, and let go again.

The sūtra also says that one should “eat and then walk in meditation.” Some people mistakenly think that in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, after eating one has nothing to do but stroll about for amusement. This is entirely wrong. “Eating” should be read as “feeding back”: having filled oneself with the food of Dharma through cultivating the Way, one should then “walk in meditation” throughout the ten directions, in turn giving sentient beings the food of Dharma—that is, liberating sentient beings extensively.

By liberating sentient beings, one tempers one’s own habitual tendencies; only in this way can one realize the Way. Otherwise, one cannot realize the Way. If we are to realize the Way, we must temper our habitual tendencies while liberating sentient beings and accumulate merit and virtue; only then can we perfectly fulfill the fruition of Buddhahood.

Why? Because the habitual tendencies of sentient beings all differ. To liberate them, you must set yourself aside and accommodate others; to accord with them, you must first eliminate your own habitual tendencies. Only then can you constantly accord with others. Therefore, among the ten great vows of Samantabhadra Bodhisattva is the vow to “constantly accord with sentient beings.”

This is not easy to accomplish. Only when one truly accomplishes it and exhausts one’s own habitual tendencies can one sever dust-like delusions; only then can one’s mind-capacity become vast, and vast spiritual powers and wondrous functioning will arise naturally without being sought. Thus, to cultivate the Way one must have the bearing of a true person—“clearly possessed of an ambition that soars to the heavens.” What has been discussed above is training amid circumstances and still belongs to the stage of cultivating the Way. We must undergo arduous tempering in order to attain the state in which principle and phenomena are unobstructed.

The final position, “Arrival within Both,” is where the upright position and the partial position draw together and merge as one. In Patriarch Dongshan’s “Verses on the Five Ranks of Ruler and Minister,” the ruler represents the upright position and the minister the partial position. Since ruler and minister merge, it is called “Arrival within Both.” There are also several lines of verse: “Arrival within Both. Who dares join in without falling into being or nonbeing? Everyone wishes to leave the ordinary stream, yet in the end returns to sit amid the charcoal.”

What does “Who dares join in without falling into being or nonbeing?” mean? We have previously explained that it is incorrect to say that our Buddha-nature exists, and also incorrect to say that it does not exist. Ordinary beings love to cling: if they say it exists, they cling to existence; if they say it does not exist, they cling to nonexistence. They take both as principles to be understood.

In fact, Buddha-nature is neither existent nor nonexistent; neither not-existent nor not-nonexistent. None of these can be grasped. Buddha-nature is originally just so. If you say it exists, it has no appearance that can be obtained; if you say it does not exist, it can give rise to wondrous functioning. Is this not neither existent nor nonexistent? Buddha-nature is thus, and phenomenal appearances are thus as well.

Take a teacup as an example. It has no self-nature; the cup itself does not inherently exist. It is formed by kneading clay and then firing it in a kiln. Yet if you say it does not exist, its form is plainly present and it can be used for drinking water or tea. Is this not neither existent nor nonexistent? The essential nature of Buddha-nature is neither existent nor nonexistent, and all phenomenal appearances in the world are likewise neither existent nor nonexistent.

“Who dares join in without falling into being or nonbeing?” When chanting poetry or composing music, I sing one line and you respond with one line; this singing and responding is called joining in. Who dares join in? At this final position, it becomes difficult to open one’s mouth and formulate words: to speak of existence is wrong, and to speak of nonexistence is also wrong. One can only be without speech and without hearing.

At the assembly on nirvāṇa, the World-Honored Śākyamuni said: “If one says that I have entered extinction, that person is not my disciple; if one says that I have not entered extinction, that person is likewise not my disciple.” Everyone, would you say that the Buddha entered extinction or not? How can one count as a disciple of the Buddha? “Neither existent nor nonexistent,” someone in the audience interjected.

No. To say “neither existent nor nonexistent” is also wrong, for you are still caught in the concept of “neither existent nor nonexistent.” Then how should it be expressed? Leaving behind existence, nonexistence, neither existence nor nonexistence, and neither not-existence nor not-nonexistence—how would you speak of it? “The mirage displays many wondrous colors; after the rain, the rainbow is especially lovely.”

“Everyone wishes to leave the ordinary stream.” The ordinary stream refers to ordinary beings, because they all drift and turn within the bitter sea of birth and death in the six realms of rebirth. To leave the ordinary stream is to be liberated from birth and death and escape the bitter sea of birth and death in the six realms of rebirth. Everyone who has come here today wishes to become a Buddha and escape that bitter sea of birth and death.

“Yet in the end returns to sit amid the charcoal”: “in the end” means ultimately. “Returns to sit amid the charcoal” means returning to the place where you originally were.

Before we practice the Dharma, afflictions and attachments obscure the luminosity of our intrinsic nature. Through practicing the Dharma, we gradually restore that luminosity. Why, then, do we finally return to sit amid black charcoal? Is this statement mistaken? It is not mistaken. This is how Esoteric Buddhism speaks of the final stage of practice: when one’s practice has reached completion, it is like the moon on the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month.

On the last day of the twelfth lunar month, can one still see the moon that night? There is a popular joking excuse for defaulting on a debt: “I will repay you when there is a moon on the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month.” Is there a moon on that day? No. Since there is none, the debt is never repaid.

Why, when cultivation of the Way reaches its ultimate point, is it likened to the moon on the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month? Because even when one’s practice reaches a great outpouring of luminosity and a great manifestation of spiritual powers, one has not yet reached the ultimate stage. One must bring everything back into one’s own mind, with not a single dharma remaining, utterly bare and unstained by a single speck of dust. Only then is the work complete; therefore, this is represented by the position of complete darkness.

Moreover, when practice has reached completion, there is no birth and death to transcend, for Buddha-nature is originally without birth and death, and the six realms are all the Tathāgata’s ocean of quiescence. Thus, one comes and goes freely, liberating sentient beings in accord with conditions. Having passed the final barrier, the six realms of rebirth are precisely transcendence of birth and death, and transcendence of birth and death is precisely the six realms of rebirth; birth and death and nirvāṇa are both unobtainable.

“Yet in the end returns to sit amid the charcoal”: the end is the same as the beginning. When one has truly arrived home, it is as though there had been no cultivation at all. Buddha-nature is a great perfect circle, without beginning or end. But do not misunderstand this as meaning that, after becoming a Buddha through practice, one returns to become an afflicted sentient being. The Buddha’s state is this: afflictions are unobtainable, bodhi is unobtainable, sentient beings are unobtainable, and even Buddhas are unobtainable. There is nothing to grasp and nothing to abandon. Sentient beings give rise to thoughts in response to objects, falsely cling, and falsely grasp. How could these be the same?

This “Arrival within Both” concerns the stage of realization of the Way. Yet if there is only the stage of realization and no stage of seeing the Way, what could one realize? One must first have the stage of seeing the Way. Apart from the stage of seeing the Way, it is impossible to enter the stage of realization. Therefore, the Mahāmudrā of the Ganges begins with the stage of seeing the Way, which shows how important that stage is.

Today two lay practitioners asked me about these “Five Ranks of Ruler and Minister,” so I have used their content and sequence to compare them with the Mahāmudrā of the Ganges. The sequence of the Five Ranks of Ruler and Minister is: the upright within the partial, the partial within the upright, coming from within the upright, arrival within both, and arrival within both. The first two are stages of seeing the Way, the middle two are stages of cultivating the Way, and the last is the stage of realizing the Way. It is the same with the Mahāmudrā of the Ganges: one must first see the Way—that is, realize the mind and see one’s true nature, or “see the principle”—and this is very important.

Because many people do not yet fully understand “sentient and insentient alike perfect the all-knowing wisdom,” we shall explain it further. Before we knew it, the discussion had ranged far and wide. Yet it has never departed from the “seeing the principle” of Mahāmudrā; as the saying goes, “Though there may be ten thousand changes, they never depart from their source.”

IV. Dispelling Attachment to Emptiness, Bliss, and Luminosity

Earlier we said that in doing the practice one should “neither restrain nor indulge”: neither suppress deluded thoughts so that they cannot arise, becoming like earth, wood, metal, or stone; nor indulge deluded thoughts and let them arise wildly, thereby wandering in birth and death. We now continue:

“To be free of deluded thoughts is the self-nature that abides in non-contrivance; it is wisdom-light.”

If we can be free of deluded thoughts—not only when seated in meditation practicing the Dharma, but at all times, whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down—this is the self-nature that abides in non-contrivance. This is the manifestation of the Original Face. At all times and in all places, do not cling to appearances, and let the mind abide in not even the slightest trace; this is called non-contrivance. It does not mean doing nothing. When there is work to do, simply do it.

All day long one eats, yet has never bitten a single grain of rice; all day long one wears clothes, yet has never had a single thread hang upon one. This is called the non-abiding mind. The non-abiding mind is our natural intrinsic nature. However, when one first sees one’s intrinsic nature, one has no spiritual powers or wondrous functioning; this is called the plain dharmakāya. It is like buying a piece of plain cloth with no pattern or color.

The mind that can abide in non-contrivance is the pure dharmakāya; it is wisdom-light. Some say that this pure dharmakāya has no wondrous function of spiritual powers and that its light is not very great.

This is because you still have something on which to abide: you are attached to “abiding in non-contrivance.” This is not genuine non-abiding; it is the deluded feeling that obscures your intrinsic nature. After deluded feeling has been removed, and thought after thought does not cling to appearances, wisdom-light can manifest. You must not stir the mind to seek it, for it is luminous from the very beginning.

For example, a precious jewel has light, but if it is covered by a layer of mud, its light cannot shine forth. Once the mud is removed, the light naturally radiates. Is there any need to seek another light? Therefore, seek nothing. Simply remove deluded thoughts, and wisdom-light will naturally manifest.

“If one cultivates by taking the conditioned as the Way, one will surely fail to awaken to the original source.”

Conversely, if we cultivate in a conditioned manner, with something on which the mind abides, then something obstructs us, and it becomes difficult to realize the Way.

“Conditioned” means having something one seeks. To take what one seeks as “the Way” is deluded mind; it is attachment and abiding. It is a hundred and eight thousand miles removed from the true mind, which is empty, numinous, and non-abiding. In this way, one can absolutely never awaken to the Original Face. Failing to understand the true mind and recognize one’s origin is blind cultivation and blind practice. To hope to realize the Way in this manner is like “cooking rice with sand”: it can never succeed.

For example, practitioners of the Pure Land may pray to Amitābha Buddha in the West: “Come and pull me along! Come and pull me along!” This is cultivation with a conditioned mind, and it is very difficult for them to resonate with Amitābha Buddha.

Because they do not know what mind is or what Buddha is, they divide mind and Buddha into two sides. They pursue, hope for, and cling to something. Their minds are not pure, so they can absolutely not be reborn in the Western Pure Land.

Nowadays, quite a few Buddhist practitioners want to become rich. This is especially so among lay practitioners from Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan, and among overseas Chinese: when they come to study the Dharma, they ask, “Is there any method that will enable me to prosper in business?” They study Buddhism not to transcend birth and death, but to become rich. Most Dharma students in mainland China want to develop spiritual powers. All this is conditioned cultivation.

Those who cultivate in this way will surely fail to awaken to the original source. They can absolutely not awaken or directly realize the Original Face, because their intention is improper: they still cling to appearances and seek something. One must cleanse the mind until it is empty and pure, wanting nothing and clinging to nothing. Only by cultivating in non-contrivance can one accord with what is fundamentally real. The moment one seeks something, one goes directly contrary to the Way and cannot realize it.

If you say that you want only spiritual powers, that is even more wrong. If you seek spiritual powers, Māra will seize the opportunity to cause trouble, manifesting as a Buddha to delude you. Taking him for a true Buddha, your mind will blossom with joy, and Māra will take the opportunity to enter your mind and turn you into a demon. Even the Buddha will be unable to save you.

Therefore, those who cultivate by taking the “conditioned” as “the Way” “will surely fail to awaken to the original source.” They will absolutely not awaken, recognize the root, or know what the root and Buddha-nature are; they can absolutely not realize the Way. How could one realize the Way while clinging and abiding somewhere? Becoming a demon, however, is certainly within reach!

Therefore, when we cultivate the Dharma, we must recognize the root, seek nothing, and know that we are originally Buddhas. We need only eliminate our deluded feelings; there is no need to seek anything. Once you seek something, you are heading toward becoming a demon. Demons possess spiritual powers. They know when your mind stirs, and then they come. Thus, when the inner demon stirs, the outer demon arrives.

What is an inner demon? Having something on which to abide is the inner demon. Once the mind clings to appearances, outer demons seize the opportunity to enter; when the mind does not cling to appearances and does not stir, outer demons find no door through which to enter. If demons come, I pay them no heed: “All appearances are false and unreal.” If a Buddha comes, slay the Buddha; if a demon comes, slay the demon. Since nothing is attainable, how could they enter? Do not fear demons. Demons are manifested by the mind. If your mind is not demonic, then no matter how great the powers of outer demons may be, they cannot enter.

When we study Buddhism and cultivate the Dharma, the causal ground must be correct. First, we must clearly understand this: our numinous, lucid true mind of clear, ever-present knowing is Buddha. Apart from this, there is no Buddha. The thousand Buddhas and myriad Buddhas are originally one body, one reality, with this true mind of clear, ever-present knowing. No matter what form of Buddha appears before us, we pay it no heed.

Once you know that all appearances are false and that nothing is attainable, and that only this wondrously lucid true mind is the true Buddha, you will not fall into demonic states and can realize the great Way. Otherwise, if the mind is impure and has attachment and seeking, one will surely invite demons, enter demonic states, and become a demon; this has not the slightest connection with the Way. Therefore, Mahāmudrā emphasizes that those who cultivate by taking the “conditioned” as “the Way” will surely be unable to awaken to and see their intrinsic nature, and cannot realize the great Way.

“This is the innate wisdom of one’s own mind from the very origin. Yet although beginners in practice may wish to abide naturally and steadily in the original source, what they abide in does not go beyond such attainments as attachment to bliss, luminosity, and no-thought.”

This wisdom-light free from conceptual knowing is not obtained from outside; it is an inherent capacity of one’s own mind.

Yet even if beginning practitioners greatly wish for the mind to rest naturally within the pure original source, they cannot do so. Because they do not understand the Original Face, they still fall into conditioned cultivation. What they abide in does not transcend such attainments as bliss, luminosity, and no-thought—that is, emptiness. Do such attainments exist? They do.

Take bliss, for example. When your practice reaches the blissful state of the third dhyāna, no worldly pleasure can compare with it. Yet do not greedily abide in it. Although it exists, you must treat it as though it did not and not become attached to it.

If you greedily abide in bliss, luminosity, or no-thought, it is harmful. Attachment to no-thought is especially harmful, because this no-thought is dead. If you sit there without moving and without a single thought, you become like earth, wood, metal, or stone; you have suppressed your own mind to death.

Attachment to bliss means that the demon of joy has come; attachment to luminosity means that the demon of luminosity has come; attachment to no-thought means that the demon of emptiness has come. But the luminosity of our intrinsic nature is great luminosity. Although it shines brightly throughout the ten directions without obstruction, it does not proclaim itself to be luminosity or abide in the appearance of luminosity.

If you abide in the appearance of luminosity, obscured by that appearance, you obscure the boundless wondrous functions of your essential nature. Therefore, you must not abide in luminosity. When we sit in meditation, we must not seek to see light or Buddhas; even seeing light is not acceptable. This does not mean that you are forbidden even to look at it; rather, you must not greedily abide in it. Having seen it, you should treat it as though you had not seen it.

Why? Because the light that first arises is faint. If your thought stirs even slightly, the luminosity disappears. When luminosity comes and you neither heed it nor stir, it grows ever greater; but once you heed it and thought stirs, the luminosity is obscured. Therefore, if you cultivate with ulterior designs, then at best you merely abide in bliss, luminosity, or no-thought; at worst, you are about to fall under demonic influence. Because you seek something, demons seize the opportunity to enter. Therefore, do not cultivate with ulterior designs!

“One should cast off attachment to such states of attainment as these. Only then, abiding suddenly and directly, does the naked and thoroughly lucid original essence of intrinsic nature appear.”

When we practice, we should cast off the states of attainment mentioned above—bliss, luminosity, no-thought, and the like. Why? Because these are merely reflections of preliminary states of samādhi. The naked original essence of intrinsic nature has not yet appeared. One merely has a slight semblance of such states beyond that of a beginner.

Attainment in practice is not awakening. For example, Patriarch Gaofeng’s teacher asked him, “Amid the vast activity of daytime, can you remain master?” A practitioner must remain master amid all the circumstances of daily activity, neither being drawn by circumstances nor following them. Only then does one have a small measure of meditative stability and some slight resonance with the original essence.

Therefore, his teacher asked whether, amid daily activity, he could see through all circumstances: neither delighting in joy, nor taking pleasure in pleasure, nor grieving in sorrow, nor suffering in suffering; neither treating emptiness and purity as emptiness and purity; and remaining undisturbed by circumstances. Could he remain master? Patriarch Gaofeng said, “I can remain master.”

The teacher further asked, “Can you remain master in dreams?” When asleep and dreaming, one knows it is a dream-state and does not waver. Whatever comes, one is unafraid: if a tiger comes, there is no fear, for it is false; if an enemy comes, there is no fear, for it is false; even if great wealth comes, one does not want it, for all is false. This is remaining master in dreams.

To remain master in dreams requires ten times the strength needed during the day. When awake, we are merely deluded; when asleep, we are deeply deluded. If, in deep delusion, you can still know clearly and lucidly that this is an illusory state, a dream-state, and your mind does not waver, that strength is immense.

For us to remain master at the time of death, we must first be able to remain master in dreams. At death there is great delusion; dreaming is lesser delusion. If one cannot remain master in lesser delusion, one will be even less able to remain master in great delusion. Patriarch Gaofeng’s practice and abilities were excellent, and he replied, “I can remain master.”

Patriarch Gaofeng answered twice, “I can remain master.” This was indeed excellent practice, a model and example for later students like ourselves. We study Buddhism and cultivate the Way in order to remain master at the shore of birth and death, rather than being dragged down by karmic obstacles and sinking into the sea of suffering.

To accomplish this, we must first train ourselves to remain master in daily life, not be turned by favorable and adverse circumstances, and not be moved by the deluded feelings of joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. In favorable circumstances, do not rejoice; in adverse circumstances, do not grieve. Regard everything as flowers in empty space and illusory shadows—unattainable, neither clung to nor abided in. Only then can one remain master in dreams. If one cannot even do this, how can one speak of transcending birth and death? The root of birth and death is precisely that deluded thoughts do not cease and one grasps at circumstances.

There was a laywoman in Ningbo who was sitting in meditation when someone suddenly came to report that her son had fallen into the water. She sat there without moving. Someone rebuked her: “How can you be so heartless? Your own flesh and blood has fallen into the water, yet you will not go save him?” She remained utterly unmoved and continued her practice as before.

Her meditative stability is good, but it is not right to stand by and watch someone die; that would be cruel. What, then, is the right thing to do? One should still save the person, but without letting the mind move—having saved them, it is as though one had done no saving at all. This does not mean sitting there without moving in the slightest. Yet, having said that, her cultivation is quite good. Had it been us, we would already have been in utter confusion.

A family’s home caught fire. The mistress of the house remembered that her child was still inside, panicked, and rushed into the house. She grabbed at the bed and ran out, only to see: “Oh no! I was wrong—I brought out a pillow.” She immediately fainted, and the child was burned to death. You see, this is the result of being thrown into utter confusion!

Therefore, whether or not you are shaken amid circumstances is a major test; this, too, is cultivation. In his daily life, Patriarch Gaofeng could remain in command and unshaken no matter what happened; his cultivation was quite good. If one can remain in command even in dreams, one’s cultivation is all the more extraordinary.

His teacher saw that his cultivation was indeed quite good and wished to test his capacity for awakening. He therefore asked him further: “When there are neither dreams nor thoughts, where is the master?” Gaofeng was startled: There are no dreams and no thoughts—then where is the master? He pondered this from every angle, but in the end could not answer. His teacher told him to investigate it.

(Master Yuanyin said: “All of you, answer on Patriarch Gaofeng’s behalf: when there are neither dreams nor thoughts, where is the master?” Everyone remained silent. The master said, “Shall I try answering for you?” Then he shouted sternly, “Precisely!”) Patriarch Gaofeng continued his investigation and later awakened. After awakening, Patriarch Gaofeng entered a closed retreat at Lion Cliff on Mount Tianmu.

Thus, cultivation is one thing, and capacity for awakening is another. If, in our cultivation, we can dispel states arising from practice—such as bliss, luminosity, and thoughtlessness—and cultivate until subject and object both vanish, and the sense faculties and their objects fall away, so that the divisions of past and future are cut off, then with a sudden “snap,” there is an abrupt explosion: inwardly, body and mind; outwardly, the world; and even empty space all shatter at once and vanish into nothingness. One then suddenly abides unmoving.

At this time, although there is nothing at all and one abides unmoving, one is not like wood or stone. Rather, there is clear, numinous knowing, and our “original fundamental essence of naked and thorough self-nature” appears.

Therefore, no matter which school we practice, we must cultivate until subject and object both vanish and mind and phenomena both fall away. Then, with a “snap”—“the great earth sinks level and empty space shatters”—the original fundamental essence of self-nature, in which there is nothing at all yet everything is clearly distinct, can appear. For example, in the Buddha-recitation Dharma gate, with the Buddha-name “Amitābha Buddha . . . ,” gather in the six sense faculties and hold fast to the eye, ear,

nose, tongue, body, and mind faculties. Recite until they truly return to one: when there is no mind that can be minded and no thought that can be thought, recitation itself is gone, and the Buddha is gone as well. With a “snap,” one immediately and directly sees the true Buddha and is reborn in the Buddha-land.

Those of us who study the Heart-of-Heart Dharma are the same. With the Buddha-Heart Mantra, “Oṃ boluo boluo . . . ,” gather in the six sense faculties; let the mind recite and the ears hear, without allowing the mind to wander outward. When the time and conditions arrive, with a “snap,” both the one who recites and that which is recited instantly fall away, and the thorough, non-abiding original self-nature appears cleanly and clearly.

Cultivation must be undertaken. Otherwise, one cannot open up one’s original nature and see one’s own intrinsic nature. Merely talking about theory is like drawing cakes to satisfy hunger; it is of no use. We must be able to remain in command in daily life. If, whenever something happens, you cannot manage and cannot remain in command, then you are like medicinal mercury, which flies away when it meets fire; you cannot withstand birth and death.

Do the work of cultivation, open up the original nature, and awaken from the dream. Once you know that everything is dreamlike, why let the mind be stirred? All favors and grievances, rights and wrongs, disappear; hence the saying, “With awakening, both are dissolved.” All things are dreamlike. Without awakening, one clings to them as truly existent; once awakened, it is like ice melting in hot water, and all karmic obstacles become empty. This is what is ordinarily meant by: “Once understood, karmic obstacles are originally empty.” Therefore, cultivation must be undertaken. Without it, how could the time and conditions for awakening ever arrive? How could one open up the original nature?

Someone asked me how long cultivation takes. That depends on whether your practice is continuous and seamless. If it is intermittent, it will not do. If our practice is continuous and seamless—sitting in meditation today and tomorrow, without interruption—and, after rising from meditation, never forgetting to maintain contemplation, without following circumstances, then in no more than three to five years you will thoroughly see your intrinsic nature.

Why do we say that practitioners of the Heart-of-Heart Dharma should complete one thousand meditation sessions? It means that three years of earnest practice will suffice. If you do not apply yourself continuously and seamlessly, but practice for a while and stop, stop and practice again—fishing for three days and drying the nets for two—then not only will three to five years be insufficient; even thirty to fifty years will be insufficient.

Others ask, “What happens after one has completed one thousand sessions?” This question has already been explained many times, but I shall repeat it once more. One thousand sessions means that the Heart-of-Heart Dharma relies upon the empowering support of Buddhas and bodhisattvas. Its method is extraordinary: if you practice earnestly and conscientiously for three years, you will certainly open up the original nature and directly see your self-nature. If you practice in a dilatory, intermittent manner, working only sporadically, then not only will one thousand sessions fail to reveal your intrinsic nature; even three or five thousand sessions will not enable you to see your nature.

Others ask, “After one thousand sessions, do we no longer practice the Dharma?” As we said last time, even if you are of the highest capacity and awaken suddenly, the habitual tendencies accumulated through many lives and kalpas cannot be eliminated all at once. You must still maintain contemplation at all times, tempering the mind through circumstances and reducing them again and again, until your habitual tendencies are exhausted. Cultivation after awakening is true cultivation through non-cultivation. This does not mean not cultivating; rather, it means not becoming attached to sitting in meditation and falling into states of bliss, thereby turning them into the obstacle of attachment to dharmas.

Conversely, if your meditative stability is insufficient and you are still shaken by circumstances, then you must undertake additional meditation sessions and strengthen your stability before you can pass this crucial barrier. If your stability is adequate, you need only remain alert at all times. This requires no effort at all and is exceptionally easy and economical; it does not mean that you must still practice this Dharma or accumulate that merit, keeping yourself frantically busy with formal dharmas.

Whether or not you have awakened, doing cultivation on the level of formal dharmas is merely a waste of energy and an invitation to trouble; it is of no use. Thus, the less effort cultivation requires, the better; the more relaxed it is, the better. The more strenuous it is, the worse.

V. Instantly Severing Deluded Thoughts and Bringing Self-Nature Before You

“Urgently call out the word ‘pei!’ and instantly cut off the stream of deluded thoughts.”

When a deluded thought arises, urgently call out “pei!” This is the essential instruction of Mahāmudrā for cutting off deluded thoughts. Those who practice Buddha-recitation do not need this method; they need only raise up the Buddha-recitation and recite “Amitābha Buddha” once. When deluded thoughts arise, other practitioners should urgently call out “pei!” and immediately become keenly alert. With a “snap,” the source and stream of deluded thoughts is cut off.

For example, when we think of getting rich, we say, “Pei! What wealth? Daydreaming!” In this way, the deluded thought is cut off. If deluded thoughts are forceful—that is, if greed is heavy—and “pei!” cannot cut them off, then one must recite a mantra and rely on the Buddha’s power to eliminate them.

“When the coarse deluded mental factors are stilled and one abides in samādhi, one is freed from the realm of clinging to all dharmas. Self-nature then becomes bright and thoroughly clear, and the nakedly manifest wisdom free from mind abides just as it is.”

Still the coarse deluded mental factors. (Our mind king and mental factors include eight principal consciousnesses and fifty-one mental factors. Of these, the worst are the five universal mental factors: attention, contact, feeling, perception, and volition.

“Attention” is the mind faculty. Its stirring force is immense and has never ceased. Do not think that it stops when you sleep; it continues generating dreams. Only in the Great Samādhi of Vajrasattva can it finally be stilled.) This means stilling the coarse delusions that arise when the mind encounters objects. Only then can one abide unmoving in a state of samādhi.

If, in practicing the Dharma, one can encounter circumstances without giving rise to mind, one already has considerable skill. We human beings constantly give rise to deluded thoughts in response to circumstances and endlessly cling to conditions, thinking from this to that and from that to this, without cease.

If the mind that clings to conditions can stop, one can peacefully enter samādhi and be free from all false realms of deluded thought and clinging. Our self-nature then appears brightly, thoroughly, and utterly bare—clear and evident before us—and thereby opens the great prajñā wisdom that is free from arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence; empty, numinous, non-abiding, and unmoving just as it is.

That is to say, the first step in cultivation is to still the coarse delusions of giving rise to mind in response to objects. Going further, one leaves behind the realm of clinging to conditions, and the mind no longer moves in confusion. Our original self-nature then appears distinctly, limpidly, and nakedly. The luminous great wisdom, unmoving just as it is and free from the deluded mind, also appears.

Thus, the Buddhadharma is wondrous: it teaches us to recognize the truth and not follow false appearances. If we are deluded by false appearances, we remain in cyclic rebirth within the six realms. Once we leave false appearances behind and recognize the true mind, we transcend them, attain great spiritual powers, and gain great benefit.

Therefore, if we truly wish to be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss, it is not enough to casually recite the Buddha’s name a few times or chant a few passages of scripture. We must use Amitābha Buddha’s sword of wisdom to cut off our infatuated attachment to the false appearances of the Sahā world. Only then can we be reborn in the West.

Thus it is said, “Pure thought brings flight.” This is what we ordinarily call the initial meditative stability: through cultivation, even if a real Buddha were to appear, one simply recites, “Amitābha Buddha, Amitābha Buddha . . .” There is nothing else. One’s every thought is Buddha; Buddha is one’s every thought; the whole Buddha is thought, and the whole of thought is Buddha. Then one will certainly be reborn in the West.

But if you are not like this—if you recite “Amitābha Buddha” a few times, sometimes mindfully and sometimes not, while thinking about this matter and that—then it will not do. Someone asks why those who practice the Buddha-recitation Dharma gate must recite sūtras. Reciting sūtras is meant to help you understand the truth. The Buddhist scriptures say that, to attain the highest grade of the highest rebirth, one must read and recite Mahāyāna scriptures. Why? Because reading and reciting Mahāyāna scriptures enables one to understand principle.

Understand that all are originally Buddha: sentient beings are Buddha. It is only because we are deluded and cling to appearances that we forget our own nature. We should not be deluded or abide in appearances, nor should we crave merit and virtue. Merit and virtue are our own mind; the self-mind is the mother of great accomplishment. The completion of great accomplishment is Buddhahood. Whether we human beings undergo rebirth in the six realms or are reborn in the Western Pure Land is brought about by the mind.

The root of all myriad virtues is the mind. All myriad virtues arise from the mind: “Nothing does not flow forth from this Dharma realm; nothing does not return to this Dharma realm.” Therefore, the mind is the root; it is the root of all dharmas. The reason I ordinarily ask everyone to read and recite Mahāyāna sūtras is to help us understand this principle.

The Pure Land Dharma discussed here is the Mahāyāna Pure Land Dharma, and its principle is of one piece with that of the Chan school. The Pure Land school is Mahāyāna Buddhism that universally embraces practitioners of all three capacities. It does not merely liberate those of middling and lesser capacities; it encompasses all three capacities. All share the same mind: the Pure Land is mind, and mind is the Pure Land.

The Amitābha Sūtra says, “From here westward, passing through a hundred thousand koṭis of Buddha lands, there is a world called Ultimate Bliss.” These hundred thousand koṭis of Buddha lands are the ten perfections and myriad practices. That is, one uses generosity, precepts, patience, diligence, dhyāna, wisdom, skillful means, vows, strength, and knowledge to cultivate the mind until it is empty and great wisdom opens. Once the mind is empty, one has crossed beyond the hundred thousand koṭis of Buddha lands and arrived in the West.

Therefore, the West is not far away; it is right before you. Simply put, when your mind abides nowhere and all is empty, your mind is Buddha and Buddha is your mind. Here is the West, and the West is here; in this very moment, you are reborn in the West. Do not wait until after death. Be reborn in the West while alive—this is genuine rebirth in the West. If you cannot be reborn in the West while alive and wait until death to be reborn there, it may be difficult indeed.

“Thoroughly comprehend and depart from all extremes of arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence; transcend the realm of discrimination by language and ideation; and naturally abide in the wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought. This refers to the intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya, yoga, and the school of realization.”

This means that we must clearly understand that such relative views as arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence are false. We must leave behind these extreme views and transcend the relative realm of discrimination by language and the mind faculty. Then we naturally abide within the originally inherent nature of vast, luminous wisdom, where there are no words to speak and no thoughts to stir.

“Thoroughly comprehend” means to understand clearly and penetrate completely. To depart from all extremes of arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence means to leave behind all kinds of extreme views, such as arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence. Views such as arising and ceasing and existence and nonexistence are all relative, deluded knowledge and deluded views. Like a mirage, they are false and unreal; they do not accord with the meaning of the Middle Way, and are therefore called extreme views.

Yet we live at all times and in all places immersed in the deluded realm of relativity, distinguishing good from bad, right from wrong, and long from short. We have never departed from the extremes of arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence. For example, to suppose that a person exists while alive but becomes absolutely nothing after death is an extreme view.

If we can recognize that everything arising through relativity is merely a false shadow and cease pursuing it, then, where the deluded mind comes to rest, we can thoroughly comprehend the inherently present, absolute true mind. The true mind is Buddha-nature: neither existent nor nonexistent, neither long nor short, neither arising nor ceasing, neither good nor bad, neither beautiful nor ugly. Everything is beyond all such descriptions. Language cannot describe it, and thought and reasoning cannot fathom it; fundamentally, no discrimination exists in it. This is what is meant by “transcending the realm of discrimination by language and ideation.”

The realm of discrimination by language and ideation is the realm in which language and consciousness discriminate. When we speak, the mind faculty in the brain is continually stirring; thus, discrimination between right and wrong, good and bad, long and short goes on without cease, and relative views blaze forth.

For example, some people recite the Buddha’s name while talking: “Amitābha Buddha, how terrible my daughter-in-law is; Amitābha Buddha, how wonderful my daughter is.” This is the realm of discrimination by language and ideation. How can that do? If one could be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss in this way, then there would be many people reborn there.

We must cut off deluded emotions and extreme views, abide in nothing, and recite wholeheartedly, “Amitābha Buddha, Amitābha Buddha . . .” When the whole mind is Buddha, Buddha is my mind, and my mind is Buddha—when mind and Buddha commune and become continuous and undivided—only then can one be reborn in the Western Land of Ultimate Bliss.

Therefore, we must transcend the realm of discrimination by language and ideation, understand that these realms are all false and unobtainable, neither follow nor be turned by them, and let go of everything, again and again. For example, a brahmin held māndārava flowers in both hands as an offering to the Buddha. The Buddha instructed him, “Put them down.” The brahmin put down the flowers in one hand. The Buddha again said, “Put them down.”

The brahmin then put down the flowers in his other hand. When the Buddha again said, “Put them down,” the brahmin was utterly perplexed and quickly asked, “I have put down the flowers in both hands. There is nothing left—what is there still to put down?” The Buddha said, “I am telling you to put down the outer six sense objects, the middle six consciousnesses, and the inner six sense faculties—put down everything.”

This means that inwardly, in the middle, and outwardly, all is released; nothing whatsoever can be obtained. Upon hearing this, the brahmin awakened. Therefore, to transcend the realm of discrimination by language and ideation, let go of everything, again and again, release everything completely, and naturally abide in the wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought.

To be beyond words and thought is to transcend language and thinking. The wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought is the great wisdom inherently possessed by one’s own nature, transcending language and thinking. If you transcend the realm of discrimination by language and ideation, you will naturally abide in this great wisdom and enjoy its inexhaustible benefit.

It is very difficult to be natural at every moment and cultivate without even the slightest deliberate effort. We all cultivate with deliberate effort. From the first bhūmi through the seventh bhūmi, bodhisattvas still cultivate with deliberate effort; only from the eighth bhūmi through the tenth bhūmi is cultivation without deliberate effort. It is not easy for ordinary beings like us to reach cultivation without deliberate effort all at once. Therefore, we must proceed step by step, from cultivation with deliberate effort to cultivation without deliberate effort.

What is cultivation with deliberate effort? It is to remain continually aware and watchful, guarding and caring for oneself. The moment a thought stirs, immediately alert yourself: “Ah, do not move. I see you.”

If you are not aware, you cannot see it, and you may run after thoughts for a hundred thousand miles without even knowing it. Therefore, continually being aware and watchful is cultivation with deliberate effort. When watchfulness has become fully familiar, there is no need deliberately to be aware; it watches naturally, and naturally does not waver. Still yet ever luminous, luminous yet ever still—this is cultivation without deliberate effort. In the end, even stillness cannot be obtained, and even luminosity cannot be obtained. Only then have you truly arrived home.

Only by practicing in this way at every moment can we progress from cultivation with deliberate effort to cultivation without deliberate effort. We cannot ascend to heaven in a single step.

How is this practice to be done? Be awake at every moment and abide in the vast, luminous wisdom in which there are no words to speak and no thoughts to stir—what the Chan school calls “the path of words is cut off and the road of mental activity is ended.”

When our mind does not move, it is naturally luminous and responds with exceptional swiftness. If your mind is stirred, clings somewhere, or has afflictions, your responses become very dull. This is because you have been carried away by circumstances; the mind’s light is obscured by circumstances and cannot shine luminously, so your responses become dull.

If you can abide at all times in the wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought, where speech cannot be obtained, thought cannot be obtained, and nothing whatsoever can be obtained, you will naturally know with complete clarity. Then all spiritual powers and wondrous functions will come forth. If you do not practice in this way but want spiritual powers, can you obtain them? No, you cannot.

Ordinary beings are constantly calculating and discriminating, worrying over gain and loss; therefore, they cannot attain peace and ease. We cultivate and realize the Way in order to leave behind deluded thoughts, remove attachment, restore the luminosity of our original nature, and bring forth great potential and great function. Our Buddha-nature is like the sun: its light is immeasurable, but it is obscured by deluded thought and discrimination, so it cannot radiate great light or manifest great spiritual functions.

When dark clouds disperse, the sun radiates great light. When deluded thoughts and attachments are left behind, the various spiritual powers and wondrous functions are attained naturally without being sought. The Mahāvairocana Sūtra says: “When a bodhisattva abides in this cultivation and study, before long, through diligent practice, one attains the samādhi that removes all obscurations. Having attained this, one abides on equal footing with all Buddhas and bodhisattvas. One will develop the five spiritual powers and gain dhāraṇīs of immeasurable eloquence.”

What does “a bodhisattva abides in this” mean? It means abiding in the wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought. In this state, one further cultivates diligently in order to remove habitual tendencies. Before long, all five spiritual powers will arise together, and one’s eloquence will be unobstructed. The five spiritual powers are the divine eye, divine ear, knowledge of others’ minds, knowledge of past lives, and spiritual power of movement.

The Buddha has six spiritual powers. Beyond the five powers, there is the power of extinguishing all outflows: all places of outflow—deluded thoughts, attachments, discriminations, afflictions, and the like—are utterly purified.

That is the “wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought.” In cultivation, we first attain the power of extinguishing all outflows and naturally abide in the wisdom-nature realm beyond words and thought. This is also called the intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya, also called yoga, and also called the school of realization. The dharmakāya is without characteristics; being without characteristics, it is not without any characteristics. It neither increases in Buddhas nor decreases in sentient beings. The intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya is the great wisdom that transcends all relativity and all worldly wisdom. “Yoga” means correspondence. Correspondence with what? Correspondence with the dharmakāya Buddha. This is precisely the school of realization.

To understand clearly and lucidly that all relative views—arising and ceasing, existence and nonexistence, and so on—are false; to leave behind these extreme views; to transcend the relative realm of discrimination by language and the mind faculty; and then naturally to abide within the great-wisdom nature that is inherently complete, naturally luminous, and without words to speak or thoughts to stir—this refers to the intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya.

There are five great wisdoms realized through practicing the Dharma and realizing the Way: great perfect mirror wisdom, wisdom of equality, wondrous observing wisdom, wisdom of accomplishing what is to be done, and dharma-realm essence wisdom. In the Ganges Mahāmudrā, dharma-realm essence wisdom is called the intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya. The intrinsic wisdom of the dharmakāya is the comprehensive wisdom of all modes; it transforms the eighth consciousness into great perfect mirror wisdom.

Great perfect mirror wisdom is the last to be fully realized. The Sixth Patriarch said, “The sixth and seventh consciousnesses are transformed at the stage of causes; the fifth and eighth are transformed at the stage of fruition.” That is, in cultivating the Way, one first works on the sixth and seventh consciousnesses, because the sixth consciousness has the greatest force: at all times and in all places, it is making discriminations and stirring restlessly.

When the deluded thoughts of the sixth consciousness cease to move, no messages of deluded thought are transmitted to the seventh consciousness, and the seventh consciousness is transformed. The seventh consciousness is the transmitting consciousness: it receives the messages sent by the sixth consciousness and then conveys them to the eighth consciousness.

When, in the course of cultivating causes, the sixth and seventh consciousnesses are transformed into wondrous discerning wisdom and the wisdom of equality, the eighth consciousness and the first five consciousnesses subsequently transform into great perfect mirror wisdom and the wisdom of accomplishing what is to be done, because there are no deluded seeds left to store and no interference from the sixth consciousness.

Therefore, from the standpoint of eliminating habitual tendencies through cultivation amid circumstances, the transformation of consciousness still begins with the sixth consciousness; the eighth consciousness must be transformed later. It is impossible to transform the eighth consciousness directly into great perfect mirror wisdom all at once. When we work constantly on the sixth consciousness, deluded thoughts cease to move, and we no longer follow external circumstances.

Buddha-remembrance, Dharma-remembrance, and Saṅgha-remembrance transmit sacred and pure seeds to the seventh consciousness, which then transmits them to the eighth consciousness. Thus defiled seeds are transformed into pure seeds, enabling one to be reborn in the West and transcend birth and death.

Thus, among the eight consciousnesses, the seventh consciousness constantly examines and deliberates, clinging to the appearance of self. It distinguishes self from others, considers itself right and others wrong, and is exceedingly arrogant and conceited. It always takes itself as primary, appropriates everything for itself, and is insatiably greedy. Therefore, the seventh consciousness is the worst. Hence, practicing the Dharma through a seven-day retreat means overthrowing the seventh consciousness.

In truth, all sentient beings are equally such; where is there a self? Yet people’s attachment to self is intense. They regard others as inferior, think that no one else is capable, and believe that only they themselves are best. Thus relationships among people become unequal. Once the seventh consciousness is transformed, there is no longer any distinction of self and others, right and wrong, gain and loss. Everything is the same, and all dharmas are equal and without difference.

Although we now study the Buddhadharma, as long as the seventh consciousness has not yet been transformed, we cannot avoid such inequality. For example, Pure Land practitioners say that the Pure Land school is the very best and that other teachings are worthless; those who study Chan say that Chan is supreme and that all the others are inferior; those who study Esoteric Buddhism say that Esoteric Buddhism is the most complete and that the rest are not very good.

Alas! To affirm oneself and reject others is due to not having truly realized the wisdom of equality and to the mind’s lack of equanimity. In fact, all dharma gates are alike. They are tools and means, not the goal. Our goal is to attain Buddhahood.

If you succeed through this means, and I succeed through that means, then when both of us succeed, are we not the same? Hence it is said: “There are many gateways of expedient means, but the return to the source is not two.” All dharmas are alike; therefore it is said: “These dharmas are equal, with neither high nor low.” The reason for inequality is the mischief of the seventh consciousness.

Therefore, once our seventh consciousness is transformed, there is equality. All distinctions of right and wrong, self and others are equal; all oppositions are equal. Equal, equal—everything is equal—and then one thoroughly realizes the great Way. When the sixth consciousness is transformed into wondrous discerning wisdom, its deluded discriminations concerning right and wrong, gain and loss become the wisdom that perfectly observes all things and deals with them correctly.

For example, how should this matter be handled most appropriately? How should that person be arranged in a reasonable way? How should a bad person be transformed, so that he turns from bad to good and from ordinary to noble, and so forth? Wondrous discerning wisdom is clear, fresh, unmoving, and unshakable: direct perception becomes inferential perception, and inferential perception becomes direct perception.

Direct perception reveals forms in accordance with their measure, without adding discrimination. Inferential perception requires comparison: whether something is good or bad, long or short, right or wrong. Upon realizing this wisdom, one clearly discerns right and wrong, gain and loss, yet has no attachment, aversion, grasping, or rejection. One handles all matters equally, yet is not unaware of right and wrong, long and short. This is a great function of wisdom. When the first five consciousnesses are transformed into the wisdom of accomplishing what is to be done, seeing forms with the eyes, hearing sounds with the ears, smelling fragrances with the nose, tasting flavors with the tongue, and encountering circumstances with the body are all functions of that wisdom.

Our ability to think, work, create, and invent—that is, the four great wisdoms discussed above—depends entirely on the functioning of dharma-realm essential-nature wisdom. In Mahāmudrā, dharma-realm essential-nature wisdom is called the wisdom of the essential nature of the dharmakāya; it is fundamental wisdom. The Yogācāra view takes “view” to mean knowledge and understanding, while “yoga” means correspondence, that is, dharmas in correspondence with the mind.

Mahāmudrā instructs you to remain in correspondence at all times: ordinary beings correspond with the Buddha, and one’s own mind corresponds with empty space. This is what is meant by sealing space, sealing water, and sealing clay. To remain in correspondence at every moment is yoga. The Yogācāra view refers to the understanding of constantly corresponding with one’s originally inherent nature.

VI. Without Recognizing One’s Own Nature, Practice Is of No Benefit

“If one practices without recognizing this, one has not departed from the functioning of mind and from views of the conditioned; one remains far removed from the path of the Great Perfection of one’s own nature and cannot attain the radiant wheel of non-practice.”

If one does not recognize one’s own wondrous mind, lacks correct understanding, does not know to begin practice from buddha-nature, and instead clings to appearances and seeks outwardly, then one has not departed from the functioning of the deluded mind. This is a conditioned and erroneous view. It is utterly unrelated to the “path of the Great Perfection of one’s own nature,” and one cannot attain the “radiant wheel of non-practice.”

The Great Perfection of one’s own nature means that buddha-nature is inherently complete and originally perfect; it does not arise from acquisition or from cultivation. The radiant wheel of non-practice means that buddha-nature is originally of immeasurable luminosity, illuminating the lands of the ten directions, fully endowed with all wondrous functions, and capable of giving rise to countless transformations. The radiant wheel is not produced through practice; it is inherently possessed by one’s own mind.

Therefore it is said: “The Way does not belong to practice; it belongs to awakening.” To awaken to the Way is to awaken, understand, and enter into true mind, thereby returning to one’s original state. It means that while practicing the Dharma, at the point where thought ceases, one realizes one’s original true nature with a sudden sound.

After awakening, must one still practice? Yes, one must practice. The two attachments to self and dharmas, accumulated since beginningless time, still remain, and one cannot yet unfold great spiritual functions. One must eliminate these two attachments before thoroughly realizing the source. How, then, should one practice? This depends on the weight of each person’s habitual defilements, and different methods are used. The best, however, is practice within non-practice, using the method of contemplation.

The Mahāmudrā method is this: whenever a deluded thought arises, one gives a sharp shout of “Pei!” and cuts off the deluded thought, thereby safeguarding the true mind. Yet we may also use other methods, such as Buddha-recitation or mantra recitation. When a deluded thought arises, recite Amitābha Buddha or uphold a mantra. Do not follow the deluded thought; transform it instead. This too can safeguard the true mind.

Or, when a deluded thought arises, one may suddenly awaken with stern clarity, and everything dissolves into emptiness; the deluded thought then subsides. Therefore, one can attain the “radiant wheel of non-practice” only after directly realizing this wondrous, luminous true mind. If one does not understand what true mind is, one cannot attain it.

“If one has not received verification of the view, then even if one practices, there is no state in which realization can be safeguarded and allowed to function. Therefore, verifying the view is the foremost priority.”

The view refers to correct knowledge and correct understanding: through the permeation of right knowledge and right view, one comes to recognize one’s own nature.

If you still do not recognize your own nature, then “even if you practice, there is no state in which realization can be safeguarded and allowed to function.” Even if you diligently exert yourself in cultivation, you cannot attain the “radiant wheel of non-practice,” because there is no state in which to safeguard realization—you do not know what to safeguard. That is, you are still uncertain about the correct knowledge and correct view discussed above; you do not recognize your own nature, your footing is unsteady, and you remain unsettled.

If you are still in doubt, what can you safeguard? For example, if we have a small child, we must carefully care for and protect the child: do not let the child go hungry or become cold, and do not let the child fall. We attend to the child in every possible way and raise the child to maturity. But if you have no child at all, whom would you protect?

Safeguarding and letting be are two stages of practice: first safeguard, then let be. It is like caring for a child. First one must protect the child; when the child grows up, one lets the child go, allowing independence and self-reliance—to do things and work independently, without needing supervision.

Safeguarding and letting be may seem to consist of only two words, but in actual practice one must travel a long road. To undertake this practice, one must first see one’s own nature. If one has not seen one’s own nature, what is there to safeguard? And what is one’s own nature? Much has already been said above: it is the nature that is now able to see and hear. Recognize it; do not doubt it; safeguard it well.

How is it safeguarded? It is “not that one does not see, nor that one does not hear,” but rather that one has clear, lucid awareness without clinging to seeing or hearing. In daily life, this does not mean refusing to look at things or refusing to listen to sounds; it means not discriminating between good and bad, beauty and ugliness, and not giving rise to attachment, aversion, grasping, or rejection.

See as much as you wish and hear as much as you wish, while inwardly there is nothing at all—“vastly open, without abiding.” This is safeguarding. Once safeguarding has matured, there is no need to safeguard further. Let it go: one may go anywhere and do anything, yet not abide in anything at all. Then one reaches the state of nonobstruction among phenomena and effortless freedom.

Concerning “the nonobstruction among phenomena,” Chan Master Zhenjing Kewen composed this verse: “In all affairs there is no obstruction; freely at ease as one wishes, holding a pig’s head in one’s hand, reciting the pure precepts with one’s mouth, driven out of a brothel, with wine debts still unpaid, at a crossroads, untying the cloth sack.”

Holding a pig’s head in his hand, he gnaws at its meat while reciting the precepts: no killing, no stealing, no sexual misconduct . . . “I eat vegetarian food; I have just come out of a brothel!” Ha, ha, ha! “Driven out” means being expelled. A brothel is a house of prostitution. He had spent all his money there and was driven out by the madam.

He owed money for drink, and the tavern came to collect the debt. He was so poor that he had no means to repay it. Thus disheveled and destitute, he was nevertheless carefree, at ease, and free of worry. Some may ask: Holding a pig’s head and reciting the pure precepts . . . if he does not eat vegetarian food, has he not broken the precepts? Not at all! He had never eaten meat; he was vegetarian.

Why? Their mind is empty, and they are free of attachment to appearances. They never think that meat tastes good and so eat more of it, or that vegetables taste bad and so eat less of them. To have no mind of love and hate, grasping and rejecting—that is vegetarianism. Conversely, although some people are vegetarians, they are attached to flavors: “This dish tastes good and is delicious; that dish tastes bad and is unpalatable!” They are extremely particular, which is no different from not being vegetarian. If our minds are truly empty and pure, then eating is no different from not eating; even if one is holding a pig’s head, it does not matter.

But to return to the point: if you have not realized this stage and simply indulge yourself in this way, then you will plunge into hell like an arrow! If your mind is not truly empty and pure, karma will cling to you and bind you, refusing to let you pass.

Here is a Chan koan of this kind. Long ago, there was a Chan master who loved to eat beef. He said, “Eating is not eating!” But was his mind empty and pure? No! He merely said it with his mouth; inwardly, his mind could not become empty, so karmic obstacles clung to him and demanded repayment of his debts. When this Chan master took his last breath, he entered a cow’s womb and became a cow to repay his debt.

One day, a farmer led the cow out and encountered Chan Master Baozhi. At a glance, Master Zhi said, “Oh! Isn’t this So-and-so Chan Master? Didn’t you say, ‘Eating is not eating’? You should not have become a cow. How did you come to become a cow to repay your debts?” The cow’s face streamed with tears!!! It then dashed itself to death.

Therefore, if one has not reached the stage of genuine emptiness and purity, yet speaks such wild boasts, one will descend into hell. We are determined to realize the great Way. We should speak only in accordance with the stage we have realized, and must not act recklessly! To reach the stage of the nonobstruction among phenomena, one must first attain a completely correct view and clearly see the true mind; then one must go further, eliminating deluded habitual tendencies and entering non-contrivance.

Cultivation with attachment to appearances, or contrived cultivation, can never realize the nonobstruction among phenomena.

Nowadays, some people whose minds are not empty and pure foolishly seek spiritual powers. This is disastrous! Not only will they fail to become Buddhas; they are instead liable to become demons! If you desire spiritual powers, a demon will manifest such powers in your mind and transform itself into the appearance of a Buddha for you to see. Thinking it a true Buddha, you will happily cling to it, and the demon will then take up residence in your mind. The demon king will further expand his influence by having you teach the Dharma and lead in a group of demon offspring and descendants. All this results from attachment to appearances. Therefore, we must not be attached to appearances or cultivate through contrivance.

“Therefore, verification of realization of the essential principle is paramount.” This is the most important statement. To realize the essential principle is to clearly see one’s intrinsic nature. The Ganges Mahāmudrā places realization of the essential principle in the foremost position, and the Caodong school’s “Five Ranks of Lord and Vassal” likewise emphasizes this point. The Linji school has the “Three Mysteries and Three Essentials”; among them, the first essential of the “mystery within the phrase” is to recognize one’s own original mind and see one’s own intrinsic nature. This likewise emphasizes the same point.

“Thereafter, one can verify the wisdom that abides in itself. This is abiding in one’s own intrinsic nature; it is not sought from another, nor was it absent in the past and present now.” (This is the first essential.)

One must first realize and see one’s intrinsic nature; only then can one bring forth the “wisdom that abides in itself.” After clear awakening, safeguard one’s intrinsic nature so that it is not lost. Diligently apply oneself and sweep away deluded habitual tendencies. If, amid any favorable or adverse circumstances, one’s mind can remain like still water, without the least restless movement, then the various wondrous functions of spiritual powers will arise naturally without being sought.

“Abiding in one’s own intrinsic nature” means that it is inherently complete within one’s own mind and naturally issues from the original mind. “Not sought from another” means that it is not attained by cultivating some method, nor bestowed upon us by Buddhas or bodhisattvas, much less manifested through possession by ghosts or spirits. “Nor was it absent in the past and present now” means that it was not absent before and present only now; it has been there from the very beginning.

Someone asks, “You say it has been there from the very beginning, so why do I not have it now?” Your deluded thoughts and deluded habitual tendencies have not yet been completely removed! First, you must recognize buddha-nature and clearly awaken to the fact that the capacity to see and hear is intrinsic nature itself. Then safeguard it at all times: do not attach to appearances, and do not run after circumstances. When this safeguarding has matured and the mind has become truly empty and pure, spiritual powers will naturally manifest.

If it is not “abiding in one’s own original mind,” if it has not been developed by oneself, then it is irrelevant. Once one’s last breath ceases, all such powers are gone, and one will not even know where one is going.

Having done evil deeds, one must still descend into hell; this is very dangerous! Here in Shanghai, there have been several so-called people “with spiritual powers.” As they approached death, the spirits possessing them left. At that point, not only did they lose their spiritual powers, but their bodies suffered intensely. Mentally, they were even more remorseful and deeply tormented by their consciences. They could only cry, “Pain! Suffering!” and fell into the three lower realms. Those of us who cultivate the true Dharma must take this as a warning!