觀心論疏 3.10

3.10

Third, dwelling peacefully in a quiet place: Although clothing and food are provided, what of the dwelling place? If following one's own intent, any place may be restful, yet for the three kinds of samādhi, one must have a good place. Good places are of three kinds: first, deep mountains and remote valleys; second, dhūta austerity; third, an āraṇyaka monastery. As for deep mountains and remote valleys: the roads are arduous and perilous, human tracks are severed forever; who is there to perturb and disturb? One engages in dhyāna contemplation at will, thought-moment after thought-moment on the Way, with blame and praise not arising—this place is the most supreme. Second, dhūta austerity: at a distance of three li at the closest, social visits are sparse; one is alerted and spurred against defilements—this place is secondary. Third, an āraṇyaka monastery: a quiet and leisurely temple, staying alone in a single room, not interfering with affairs; closing the door to sit in stillness and contemplate the true reality properly—this place is the lowest. Apart from these three, others are impermissible. As for the place in contemplation of mind: it is the principle of the truths. The dharma of the Middle Way is profound, remote, and deep. The seven expedient means cut off tracks and do not reach it, hence it is called 'deep.' Lofty, broad, and immovable, it is called 'mountain.' Far removed from the two extremes, it is called 'quiet.' Unborn and unarisen, it is called 'peaceful.' The Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra says: 'If one gives rise to the mind of a śrāvaka a thousand yojanas away, although this body is far removed, the mind is not far removed; taking bustle to be non-bustle is not true seclusion.' Though living near a city, if one does not give rise to the mind of the two vehicles, that is called seclusion—this is the highest-grade place. The dhūta place is the contemplation of emerging from emptiness into provisionality; this contemplation borders on emptiness, just as an āraṇyaka adjoins a village. The contemplation of emerging into provisionality settles the mind in conventional truth, distinguishing medicines and illnesses, shaking off ignorance, and purifying the wisdom of the paths—this is the secondary place. The single room in a quiet temple is the contemplation of entering emptiness from provisionality. A temple is fundamentally a bustling residence for the multitude; being able to settle peacefully in a single room is the lowest place.