Thus have I heard. At one time, the Buddha was staying at Śrāvastī, in the Jeta Grove Monastery, together with a great assembly of 1,250 bhikshus.
All were great arhats free of outflows, upholders of the Buddha Dharma, who had well transcended all states of existence. They could manifest dignified conduct in lands throughout the ten directions; turn the Dharma wheel with the Buddha and were eminently fit to receive his final instructions; uphold the Vinaya in purity and serve as a great model for the three realms; manifest countless bodies to liberate sentient beings; rescue those of the future and transcend every burden of adventitious defilement.
Their names were Mahāprajñā Śāriputra, Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Mahākauṣṭhila, Pūrṇamaitrāyaṇīputra, Subhūti, Upaniṣad, and others, who were foremost among them. There were also countless pratyekabuddhas who had completed their training, together with those of initial resolve, who had come to the Buddha. They were attached to the bhikshu assembly and, having completed the summer retreat, were observing the self-invitation ceremony. Bodhisattvas from the ten directions sought resolution of their doubts, reverently attended upon the Compassionate and Stern One, and wished to seek the profound meaning.
At that time, the Tathāgata spread out his seat and sat at ease. For all those in the assembly, he expounded the profound and mysterious. The pure assembly at the Dharma feast attained what it had never attained before. His kalaviṅka voice pervaded the realms of the ten directions. Bodhisattvas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges came together at the bodhimaṇḍa, with Mañjuśrī as their foremost.
At that time, King Prasenajit was preparing a vegetarian offering in observance of the anniversary of his late father, the former king. He invited the Buddha to the inner palace, personally welcomed the Tathāgata, and lavishly set out rare delicacies of unsurpassed flavor. He also personally invited all the great bodhisattvas. In the city, elders and lay practitioners were likewise offering meals to the saṅgha at the same time, awaiting the Buddha's arrival in response to their invitations. The Buddha instructed Mañjuśrī to lead separate groups of bodhisattvas and arhats in responding to the various donors' offerings.
Ānanda alone had previously accepted a separate invitation and had traveled far away without yet returning, so he had not been able to join the saṅgha in its order. With neither a senior monk nor an acharya, he returned alone along the road. That day there was no offering for him. Ānanda then took up his alms bowl and, in the city through which he was passing, begged in order from door to door. In his mind, he first sought the final donor, intending to make that person the host of the meal, without regard for purity or impurity, whether kṣatriyas of noble lineage or caṇḍālas.
He was practicing impartial compassion, making no distinction in favor of the eminent or against the lowly, intending thereby to bring to perfection the immeasurable merit and virtue of all sentient beings. Ānanda already knew that the Tathāgata, the World-Honored One, had reproved Subhūti and Mahākāśyapa, both arhats, because their minds lacked equanimity. Revering the Tathāgata, he wished to make impartial giving known and thereby dispel every doubt and slander. Passing through the city moat, he walked slowly toward the city gate, his demeanor dignified and orderly, and his alms practice solemn and respectful.
At that time, while Ānanda was begging for food, he passed by a house of prostitution and encountered a powerful illusion. The woman Mātaṅgī used the ancient Brahmā-heaven spell of Śavikāra to draw him onto a bed of lust, caressing his body and about to destroy the substance of his precepts. Knowing that he had been affected by this licentious spell, the Tathāgata returned after the meal. The king and his ministers, elders, and lay practitioners all followed the Buddha, wishing to hear the essentials of the Dharma.
Then the World-Honored One emitted from the crown of his head a hundred-jeweled, fearless light. Within that light appeared a thousand-petaled jeweled lotus, upon which a transformation body of the Buddha sat in full lotus posture and proclaimed a spiritual mantra. He instructed Mañjuśrī to take the mantra and protect Ānanda. The evil spell was dispelled, and Mañjuśrī brought Ānanda and Mātaṅgī back to the Buddha.
When Ānanda saw the Buddha, he bowed at his feet and wept sorrowfully. He regretted that, from beginningless time, he had relied exclusively on extensive learning and had not fully developed the power of the Way. Earnestly, he requested the initial expedient means by which the Tathāgatas of the ten directions attain bodhi: the wondrous śamatha, samāpatti, and dhyāna. At that time, bodhisattvas as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, as well as great arhats and pratyekabuddhas from the ten directions, all wished to hear this teaching. They withdrew to their seats, remained silent, and received the sacred instruction.
Then, in the midst of the great assembly, the World-Honored One extended his golden arm and touched the crown of Ānanda's head. He told Ānanda and the whole assembly: “There is a samādhi called the Great Buddha-Crown Śūraṅgama King, which encompasses all practices. The Tathāgatas of the ten directions have all transcended through this one gate onto the wondrous path of adornment. Listen carefully now!” Ānanda bowed and respectfully received the compassionate instruction.
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You and I are of the same clan, and our familial affection is equal. When you first aroused the resolve, what superior characteristic did you see in my Dharma that made you suddenly renounce the deep and weighty worldly ties of affection?” Ānanda said to the Buddha: “I saw the Tathāgata's thirty-two marks, supremely wondrous and extraordinary. His body was radiant and translucent, like crystal. I constantly reflected that such marks could not arise from desire and attachment.”
“Why? The energy of desire is coarse and turbid; its foul odors mingle in sexual union, and pus and blood are confused together. They cannot produce the supremely pure, wondrously bright, purple-golden mass of light. Therefore, I longed for you and left home under the Buddha.”
The Buddha said: “Excellent, Ānanda! You should know that all sentient beings, from beginningless time onward, have continued in birth and death because they do not recognize the ever-abiding true mind, the pure and luminous essence of their nature. Instead, they employ deluded thoughts. Because these thoughts are unreal, they undergo rebirth in the cycle of existence. Now, if you wish to investigate unsurpassed bodhi and truly realize your intrinsic nature, you should answer my questions with a straightforward mind. The Tathāgatas of the ten directions have all left birth and death by the same path: through a straightforward mind. When mind and speech are straightforward, then throughout all stages, from beginning to end, there are never any crooked or indirect aspects in between.”
“Ānanda, I now ask you: when you first aroused the resolve because of the Tathāgata's thirty-two marks, what did you use to see them, and what was it that took delight in them?” Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, I delighted in them through my mind and eyes. My eyes saw the Tathāgata's superior marks, and my mind gave rise to delight. Therefore, I aroused the resolve, wishing to abandon birth and death.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “As you have said, what truly delights is due to the mind and eyes.”
“If you do not know where the mind and eyes are, you cannot subdue the afflictions. It is like a king whose country is invaded by bandits: when he sends troops to destroy them, those troops must know where the bandits are. Your mind and eyes are responsible for causing you to revolve in the cycle of existence. I now ask you: where are your mind and eyes at present?”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, all beings in the world, in the ten classes, regard the conscious mind as dwelling within the body. Even the Tathāgata's blue-lotus eyes are on the Buddha's face. As I now observe these four gross elements that make up the physical sense faculties, they are located only on my face. Thus, the conscious mind truly dwells within the body.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You are now seated in the Tathāgata's lecture hall. Where is the Jeta Grove that you see?” “World-Honored One, this great, pure lecture hall with its lofty pavilions is in Anāthapiṇḍada's Garden, while the Jeta Grove is truly outside the hall.” “Ānanda, now that you are in the hall, what do you see first?” “World-Honored One, being in the hall, I first see the Tathāgata and then observe the great assembly. Looking outward, I then see the grove and garden.”
“Ānanda, by what means do you see the grove and garden?” “World-Honored One, the doors and windows of this great lecture hall are open and unobstructed; therefore, while in the hall, I can see far into the distance.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “As you have said, while the body is in the lecture hall and its doors and windows are open and unobstructed, it can see the grove and garden in the distance.”
“Could there also be sentient beings in this hall who do not see the Tathāgata but see what is outside the hall?” Ānanda replied: “World-Honored One, for one to be in the hall, not see the Tathāgata, yet see the groves and springs outside, is impossible!” “Ānanda, it is likewise with you. Your spiritual mind clearly understands everything. If the mind that presently understands were truly within your body, it should first be able to know the interior of your body.”
“Are there sentient beings who first see within their bodies and then observe external things? Even if they cannot see their heart, liver, spleen, and stomach, they should surely be aware when nails grow, hair lengthens, sinews flex, and veins pulse. Why do they not know these? If they certainly do not know the interior, how can they know the exterior? Therefore, you should know that your assertion that the aware and knowing mind dwells within the body is impossible.”
Ānanda bowed and said to the Buddha: “Having heard the Tathāgata's Dharma teaching, I realize that my mind truly dwells outside the body. Why? It is like a lamp lit within a room: the lamp must first illuminate the room's interior, then, through the doorway, reach the courtyard outside. All sentient beings do not see within their bodies but see only outside them; likewise, a lamp outside a room cannot illuminate its interior. This principle is surely clear and leaves no room for doubt. Does it not accord with the Buddha's ultimate meaning and contain no error?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “These bhikshus have just followed me from Śrāvastī, begging for food in turn, and have returned to the Jeta Grove. I have already finished my meal.”
“Look at these bhikshus: when one person eats, do all the others become full?” Ānanda replied: “No, World-Honored One. Why? Although these bhikshus are arhats, their bodies and lives are distinct. How could one person's eating make everyone full?” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “If your aware and discerning mind truly dwelt outside your body, then body and mind would be separate and would not affect one another.”
“Then what the mind knows could not be felt by the body, and what is felt at the body could not be known by the mind. I now show you my hand, soft as tufts of cotton. When your eyes see it, does your mind distinguish it?” Ānanda replied: “Yes, World-Honored One.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “If they know one another, how could the mind be outside? Therefore, you should know that your assertion that the aware and knowing mind dwells outside the body is impossible.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, as the Buddha has said, because it does not see within, it does not dwell inside the body; and because body and mind know one another and are not separate, it does not dwell outside the body. I now reflect that it must be in one location.” The Buddha said: “Where is that location?” Ānanda said: “Since this knowing mind does not know the interior but can see outside, I consider that it is concealed within the sense faculties.”
“It is like someone placing a crystal bowl over both eyes. Though an object covers them, it does not obstruct them. The sense faculties see along with it and immediately distinguish. Thus, the reason why my aware and knowing mind does not see the interior is that it is within the faculties; and the reason why it clearly sees the exterior without obstruction is that it is concealed within the faculties.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “As you say, that which is concealed within the faculties is like crystal. When a person covers their eyes with crystal, do they see the crystal when they see mountains and rivers?” “Yes, World-Honored One. When a person covers their eyes with crystal, they truly see the crystal.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “If your mind were like eyes covered by crystal, then when you saw mountains and rivers, why would you not see your own eyes? If you saw your eyes, the eyes would become an external object and could not function as the faculties that accompany seeing.”
“If you cannot see them, how can you say that this aware and knowing mind is concealed within the faculties like eyes covered by crystal? Therefore, you should know that your assertion that the aware and knowing mind is concealed within the faculties, like eyes covered by crystal, is impossible.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, I now reflect further: in the bodies of sentient beings, the viscera and organs are inside, while the openings are outside. What is hidden is dark, and what has openings is bright. Now, facing the Buddha, when I open my eyes and see brightness, this is called seeing outside; when I close my eyes and see darkness, this is called seeing inside. What do you say of this?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “When you close your eyes and see darkness, does that realm of darkness confront your eyes or not? If it confronts your eyes, then the darkness is before your eyes. How can it be inside? If it is inside, then when you are in a dark room without sun, moon, or lamp, all the darkness in that room would be your own internal organs.”
“If it does not confront your eyes, how can it become seeing? If, apart from seeing outside, what is called inside is formed by an inward confrontation, then closing your eyes and seeing darkness should be called seeing within your body. But when you open your eyes and see brightness, why do you not see your own face? If you do not see your face, inward confrontation cannot be established. If seeing your face can be established, then this aware and knowing mind, together with the eye faculty, would be in empty space. How could it be within? If it were in empty space, it would not be part of your body. Then, when the Tathāgata now sees your face, that too should be your body.”
“Once your eyes know, your body should not feel. If you insist that both body and eyes are aware, there should be two consciousnesses; then your single body should become two Buddhas. Therefore, you should know that your assertion that seeing darkness is seeing within is impossible.”
Ānanda said: “I have often heard the Buddha explain to the fourfold assembly: ‘Because the mind arises, the various dharmas arise; because dharmas arise, the various minds arise.’ I now reflect that this very faculty of reflection is truly my mind-nature. Wherever it joins with something, the mind exists accordingly; it is not in any of the three places—inside, outside, or between.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You now say that because dharmas arise, various minds arise, and that the mind exists wherever they come together. If this mind has no substance, there can be nothing with which it comes together. But if, without substance, it can nevertheless come together, then the nineteen realms would arise from the combination of the seven sense objects.”
“This is not so. If it has substance, then, as when you pinch your own body with your hand, does the mind you know come forth from within, or enter from without? If it comes forth from within, it should see inside the body; if it comes from without, it should first see your face.” Ānanda said, “Seeing belongs to the eyes; knowing belongs to the mind, not to the eyes. Thus it is not right to say that the mind sees.”
The Buddha said: “If the eyes can see, then when you are in a room, can the door see? Moreover, when people have died, their eyes still remain; they should all be able to see things. If they can see things, why are they called dead? Ānanda, if your mind that is aware and knows necessarily has substance, is it one substance or many? Now that it is in your body, does it pervade the body or not? If it is one substance, then when you pinch one limb with your hand, all four limbs should feel it. If they all feel it, the pinching would have no particular location. But if the pinching has a location, then your claim that it is one substance cannot stand.”
“If it consists of many substances, then you would become many persons. Which substance would be you? If it pervades the body, the same objection applies to the pinching just mentioned. If it does not pervade the body, then when you touch your head and also touch your foot, the head should feel it while the foot should not know it. Yet this is not so. Therefore, you should know that the claim that the mind exists wherever things come together has no basis.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, I have also heard the Buddha discuss true reality with Mañjuśrī and other Dharma princes. The World-Honored One also said that the mind is neither within nor without. As I reflect on this: because nothing is seen within, it cannot be within; because body and mind know one another, it cannot be outside. Since they know one another, yet nothing is seen within, it must be in between.”
The Buddha said: “When you say ‘in between,’ that middle position cannot be indeterminate; it must have some location. Now investigate this middle: where is it? Is it in a place, or in the body? If it is in the body, then what is at the side is not in the middle, while what is in the middle would be the same as being inside. If it is in a place, does it have some marker or no marker? Without a marker, it is the same as nonexistent; with a marker, it has no fixed position.”
“Why is this? If someone sets up a marker to indicate the middle, then looking eastward it becomes west, and looking southward it becomes north. Since the marker itself is confused, the mind should also be disordered.” Ānanda said: “The middle of which I speak is neither of these two. As the World-Honored One has said, the eye and visible forms are conditions for the arising of eye-consciousness. The eye has discrimination, while the sense object of form is insentient; consciousness arises between them, and that is where the mind is.”
The Buddha said: “If your mind is between the sense faculties and their objects, does this mind-substance encompass both, or not encompass both? If it encompasses both, the substance of things would be confused. Things are not aware, while the body is aware; they would stand opposed as two enemies. How could this be called a middle? If it cannot encompass both, it is neither aware nor unaware, and thus has no substance or nature. What appearance could a middle then have? Therefore, you should know that the claim that it is in between has no basis.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, in the past I saw the Buddha, together with Mahāmaudgalyāyana, Subhūti, Pūrṇa, and Śāriputra, the four great disciples, turn the Dharma wheel. You often said: ‘The nature of the mind that is aware and discriminates is neither within, nor without, nor in between; it has no location whatsoever. Nonattachment to all things is called the mind.’ Then, is my nonattachment what is called the mind?”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You speak of the nature of the mind that is aware and discriminates as having no location whatsoever. In the world, empty space, water, land, flying creatures, and all forms of things are called ‘everything.’ Is that to which you are not attached existent or nonexistent? If nonexistent, it is like tortoise hair or rabbit horns; how could there be nonattachment? If something exists without attachment, it cannot be called nonexistent. Without characteristics, it is nonexistent; if it is not nonexistent, it has characteristics. If characteristics exist, it has a location. How, then, can there be nonattachment? Therefore, you should know that the claim that nonattachment to all things is called the knowing mind has no basis.”
At that time, Ānanda rose from his seat among the great assembly, bared his right shoulder, knelt on his right knee, joined his palms reverently, and said to the Buddha: “I am the Tathāgata’s youngest brother. Receiving the Buddha’s compassionate love, I have left home, yet I still rely on his tender care. Therefore I have become widely learned, but have not attained freedom from the outflows. I could not subdue the Śāmbhāra spell and was turned about by it, sinking into a house of sexual indulgence. This was because I did not know the ultimate destination of true reality. I pray that the World-Honored One, in great compassion and pity, will reveal to us the path of śamatha, so that the icchantikas may destroy the mleccha views.”
Having spoken thus, he prostrated himself with all five limbs on the ground. The entire assembly, thirsting with anticipation, waited respectfully to hear the instruction.
At that time, the World-Honored One emitted various lights from the gateway of his face. Their radiance shone like a hundred thousand suns. Throughout the Buddha worlds, the earth quaked in six ways. Thus the lands of the ten directions, as numerous as motes of dust, all appeared at once. By the Buddha’s majestic spiritual power, all these worlds merged into a single world. In that world, all the great bodhisattvas remained in their own lands, with palms joined, attentively receiving the teaching.
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “All sentient beings, from beginningless time, have been subject to various inversions. Their karmic seeds arise naturally, clustered together like akāśa seeds. Those who cultivate cannot attain unsurpassed bodhi; instead, they become śrāvakas, pratyekabuddhas, adherents of non-Buddhist paths, heavenly demons, demon kings, or members of the demon retinue.”
“All this is because they do not know the two fundamental roots and cultivate in confusion, like cooking sand in the hope of making a fine meal: even after dust-epochs, it can never be accomplished. What are these two? Ānanda, first is the beginningless root of birth and death: the mind that you and all sentient beings now use in grasping at conditions and take to be your own nature. Second is the originally pure substance of beginningless bodhi and nirvāṇa: the original luminosity of the essence of consciousness, which can give rise to all conditions, yet is what conditioned objects leave behind. Because sentient beings abandon this fundamental luminosity, though they act all day long, they are unaware of it and vainly enter the various realms of rebirth.”
“Ānanda, you now wish to know the path of śamatha and seek to escape birth and death. I will ask you again.” Thereupon the Tathāgata raised his golden arm, bent the fingers of his five-wheeled hand, and said to Ānanda, “Do you see?” Ānanda said, “I see.” The Buddha said, “What do you see?” Ānanda said, “I see the Tathāgata raise his arm and bend his fingers into a radiant fist, which illumines my mind and eyes.”
The Buddha said, “With what do you see?” Ānanda said, “The assembly and I see with our eyes.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You have now answered me that the Tathāgata bends his fingers into a radiant fist, which illumines your mind and eyes. Your eyes can see; but what do you take to be the mind that is illuminated by my fist?” Ānanda said, “The Tathāgata is now asking where the mind is. I investigate and seek after it with my mind; that which is able to investigate is what I take to be my mind.”
The Buddha said: “Alas, Ānanda! This is not your mind.” Startled, Ānanda withdrew from his seat, joined his palms, stood up, and said to the Buddha, “If this is not my mind, what should it be called?” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “This is a false mental image of preceding sense objects, which deludes your true nature. From beginningless time until this present life, you have mistaken a thief for your son, lost what is originally constant in you, and thus undergone the cycle of rebirth.”
Ānanda said to the Buddha: “World-Honored One, I am the Buddha’s cherished younger brother. Because my heart loved the Buddha, he caused me to leave home. Not only have I used this mind to make offerings to the Tathāgata, but, traveling throughout lands as numerous as the sands of the Ganges, I have served Buddhas and spiritual teachers, aroused great courage, and undertaken every difficult practice—all through this mind. Even if I were to slander the Dharma and forever lose my roots of goodness, it would also be because of this mind.”
“If that which makes such discernment is not the mind, then I have no mind and am like earth or wood. Apart from this awareness and knowing, there is nothing else. How can the Tathāgata say that this is not the mind? I am truly alarmed and afraid, and no one in this assembly is without doubt and perplexity. I pray that you will extend great compassion and instruct those who have not awakened.”
At that time, the World-Honored One wished to instruct Ānanda and the great assembly, causing their minds to enter the forbearance of the unborn dharmas. From the lion seat, he touched Ānanda’s crown and said: “The Tathāgata has often said that all dharmas that arise are manifested only by the mind. All causes and effects, and even the minute particles of worlds, take their substance from the mind.”
“Ānanda, in all worlds, everything within them—even grasses, leaves, threads, and knots—has a substance when its origin is investigated. Even empty space has a name and an appearance.”
“How much more so the pure, wondrous, luminous mind, which is the nature of all minds—could it itself lack substance? If you stubbornly maintain that the nature which knows the discriminations of awareness and contemplation is necessarily the mind, then this mind should possess a complete nature apart from all forms, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and the activities of the sense objects. As you now listen to my teaching, your discrimination arises because of sound.”
“Even if you were to extinguish all seeing, hearing, awareness, and knowing, and inwardly preserve a secluded stillness, that would still be a dharma-object, a shadow of discriminating thought. I do not tell you to insist that it is not the mind. But examine the mind with subtle care: if the nature that discriminates exists apart from preceding sense objects, then it is truly your mind. If the discriminating nature has no substance apart from sense objects, then it is merely a shadow of discrimination based on preceding sense objects.”
“Sense objects are not permanent. When they change and perish, this mind would become like tortoise hair or rabbit horns. Then your Dharma body would be subject to annihilation. Who, then, could cultivate and realize the forbearance of the unborn dharmas?” At once Ānanda and the great assembly fell silent and were at a loss. The Buddha said to Ānanda: “All practitioners in the world, though they may presently attain the nine successive absorptions, cannot eradicate the outflows and become arhats, because they cling to this deluded thought of birth and death and mistake it for what is real. Therefore, though you have now gained extensive learning, you have not attained the fruit of a noble one.”
Having heard this, Ānanda wept again in sorrow. He prostrated himself with all five limbs on the ground, knelt for a long time with palms joined, and said to the Buddha: “From the time I followed the Buddha and resolved to leave home, relying on the Buddha’s majestic spiritual power, I always thought that I need not cultivate myself. I supposed that the Tathāgata would bestow samādhi upon me. I did not know that body and mind cannot substitute for one another. Thus I lost my own fundamental mind. Though my body has left home, my mind has not entered the Way, like a poor son who leaves his father and flees.”
“Today I know that even with extensive learning, if one does not cultivate, it is the same as not having heard at all; it is like someone speaking of food who can never be filled. World-Honored One, we are now entangled by the two obscurations, entirely because we do not know the mind-nature that is quiescent and ever-abiding. I pray that the Tathāgata will pity us in our poverty and destitution, reveal the wondrous luminous mind, and open the eye of the Way for us.”
At that time, the Tathāgata caused precious light to stream forth from the swastika on his chest. The light shone brilliantly in hundreds of thousands of colors and instantly pervaded Buddha worlds throughout the ten directions, as numerous as motes of dust. It bathed the crowns of all the Tathāgatas in jeweled lands throughout the ten directions, then circled back to Ānanda and the great assembly. He said to Ānanda: “I shall now raise the great Dharma banner for you, and enable all sentient beings in the ten directions to obtain the wondrous, subtle, secret mind whose nature is pure luminosity, and to attain the pure eye.”
“Ānanda, you previously answered me that you saw the radiant fist. From what does this radiance of the fist arise? How is it formed into a fist? With what do you see it?” Ānanda said: “The Buddha’s whole body is like Jambūnada gold, crimson like a jeweled mountain and born of purity; therefore it has radiance. I truly see with my eyes that the Tathāgata bends and closes the tips of the five-wheeled fingers to show people, and thus there is the appearance of a fist.” The Buddha said to Ānanda: “Today the Tathāgata will tell you the truth.”
“Those who possess wisdom must rely on analogies to attain awakening. Ānanda, for example, without my hand there could be no fist of mine; without your eyes there could be no seeing of yours. Is the principle of comparing your eye faculty to my fist equivalent?” Ānanda said: “Yes, World-Honored One. Without my eyes, there could be no seeing of mine; in comparing my eye faculty to the Tathāgata’s fist, the matter and principle are analogous.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda: “You say they are analogous, but this is not so. Why? If a person has no hands, a fist is entirely absent; but one who has no eyes does not thereby entirely lack seeing. Why is this? Go and ask blind people along the road, ‘What do you see?’ Those blind people will surely answer, ‘Before our eyes we see only darkness and nothing else.’”
Viewed in this way, the objects before you may themselves be dark; how is seeing thereby diminished? Ānanda said, “Before the eyes of those who are blind, there is only darkness. How can that be called seeing?” The Buddha told Ānanda, “For those who are blind and without eyes, there is only darkness before them. Is this darkness different from the darkness seen by a person with eyes in a dark room, or is there no difference?” “Just so, World-Honored One. Comparing the darkness seen by a person in a dark room with that seen by the blind, there is no difference at all.”
Ānanda, if a person without eyes sees only darkness before him, and suddenly gains the light of sight, then sees all kinds of forms among the objects before him, you call this seeing by the eyes. If a person in darkness sees only darkness before him, and suddenly obtains the light of a lamp, then also sees all kinds of forms among the objects before him, he should be said to see by the lamp. If it is the lamp that sees, then the lamp itself can see and should not be called a lamp. Moreover, if the lamp does the seeing, what does that have to do with you? Therefore, you should know that a lamp can reveal forms; the one that sees is the eye, not the lamp. The eye can reveal forms; the seeing-nature is the mind, not the eye.”
Although Ānanda heard these words, he and the great assembly remained silent, their minds not yet awakened. Still hoping that the Tathāgata would compassionately expound the teaching in a gentle voice, they joined their palms, cleared their minds, and waited for the Buddha’s compassionate instruction.
At that time, the World-Honored One extended his radiant hand, marked with webbing soft as tūla cotton, opened his five fingers, and instructed Ānanda and the great assembly: “When I first attained the Way in the Deer Park, I told Ājñāta Kauṇḍinya and the other five bhikṣus, as well as you of the fourfold assembly: ‘All sentient beings fail to attain bodhi or arhatship because they are misled by the afflictions of guests and dust.’ By what did you awaken at that time and now attain the fruits of sagehood?”
Then Kauṇḍinya rose and addressed the Buddha: “I am now the eldest among the assembly and alone have received the name ‘Understanding,’ because I awakened through the two words ‘guest’ and ‘dust’ and thereby attained realization. World-Honored One, it is like a traveling guest who stops at an inn: he may lodge there or take a meal. When lodging and eating are finished, he packs for the road ahead and cannot remain there. But the true host has nowhere to go.”
Reflecting thus, that which does not remain is called a guest, while that which remains is called the host; what does not remain is the meaning of ‘guest.’ Again, after a fresh clearing of the sky, the pure sun rises into the heavens, and its light enters through a crevice, revealing the various motes of dust in the air. The particles of dust move, while empty space remains still. Reflecting thus, clarity and stillness are called empty space, and movement is called dust; what moves is the meaning of ‘dust.’” The Buddha said, “So it is.”
Then, in the midst of the great assembly, the Tathāgata bent his five fingers. Having bent them, he opened them; having opened them, he bent them again. He said to Ānanda, “What do you see now?” Ānanda said, “I see the Tathāgata’s palm, marked with a hundred jeweled wheels, opening and closing among the assembly.” The Buddha told Ānanda, “You see my hand opening and closing among the assembly.”
“Is it my hand that opens and closes, or is it your seeing that opens and closes?” Ānanda said, “The World-Honored One’s jeweled hand opens and closes among the assembly. I see the Tathāgata’s hand itself opening and closing; it is not my seeing-nature that opens and closes.” The Buddha said, “What moves, and what is still?” Ānanda said, “The Buddha’s hand does not remain still, whereas my seeing-nature is beyond even stillness; how could it be said not to abide?” The Buddha said, “So it is.”
Then the Tathāgata emitted a precious ray of light from his wheel-marked palm, sending it to Ānanda’s right. Ānanda immediately turned his head to look to the right. The Buddha emitted another ray of light to Ānanda’s left, and Ānanda again turned his head to look to the left. The Buddha told Ānanda, “Why does your head move today?” Ānanda said, “I saw the Tathāgata emit a wondrous precious light that came to my right and left. Therefore, I looked right and left, and my head moved of itself.” “Ānanda, as you look at the Buddha’s light and turn your head from right to left, is it your head that moves, or is it your seeing that moves?” “World-Honored One, my head moves of itself, whereas my seeing-nature is beyond even cessation; how could it be shaken?” The Buddha said, “So it is.”
Then the Tathāgata proclaimed to the great assembly: “If sentient beings regard what moves as dust, and what does not remain as a guest, look at Ānanda: his head moves of itself, yet his seeing does not move. Again, look at me: my hand opens and closes of itself, yet seeing has no opening or closing. Why do you now take movement to be your body and movement to be your environment? From beginning to end, thought after thought arises and ceases. You lose your true nature and act in inversion; the true nature of mind is lost, and you take things to be yourself. Thus you revolve within saṃsāra and bring this ceaseless turning upon yourselves.”
