宗鏡錄 33.7

Answer: One need only see one's nature, and fox-like doubts will cut off of themselves. I once probed and investigated [this], and came to trust this principle. The *Treatise on Immutability* (*Buqian lun*) says: "Whirlwinds flatten mountains, yet are ever still; rivers race and surge, yet do not flow; shimmering mirages flutter and toss, yet do not move; the sun and moon traverse the sky, yet do not revolve." A commentary says: "The earlier wind is not the later wind; therefore, flattening mountains, it is ever still. The earlier water is not the later water; therefore, racing and surging, it does not flow. The earlier vapor is not the later vapor; therefore, fluttering and tossing, it does not move. The earlier sun is not the later sun; therefore, traversing the sky, it does not revolve." A subcommentary says: "Yet their substances differ from thought-moment to thought-moment. Thus, when the first single thought-moment arises, it is not the time of the second thought-moment; up to when it finally blows against a mountain, that is not the time of its initial arising. Thus, there is no substance of the wind from the preceding thought-moment that definitively comes from there to blow upon that mountain. Furthermore, from the mountain's first moment of shaking until it falls flat upon the ground, that mountain's substance differs from thought-moment to thought-moment. Thus, when it shakes at the first single thought-moment, it is not the time when it shakes at the second thought-moment; up to when it finally hits the ground, that is not the time of its initial shaking. Thus, there is no substance of the mountain from its initial shaking that definitively comes from there to reach the time when it hits the ground. All these mean that the wind does not arrive, and the mountain does not hit the ground. Although the tempest flattens the mountain, it has never moved." These four things are taken by the worldly to change and move. Yet, although mountains fall and the [heavens] traverse the sky, none of them knows or reaches the others. Moment to moment each abides in itself; each does not mutate. Furthermore, among what the world calls great, nothing exceeds the four great elements; and among movement within the four great elements, nothing surpasses the wind-wheel. If investigated through their nature, they are fundamentally and truly motionless. As the *Ocean of Meaning* (*Yihai*) says: "Examining movement and quietude: dust follows the wind; fluttering and soaring is movement, while quiescently not arising is quietude. But now, at the time of quietude, because movement is not annihilated, quietude is entirely accomplished by movement. Now, at the time of movement, because quietude is not annihilated, movement is entirely accomplished by quietude. Because the entire substances mutually accomplish each other, therefore at the very time of movement it is quiet, and at the very time of quietude it is moving. It is also like the wind: fundamentally motionless, yet able to move all things. If there were movement beforehand, it would lose its own substance and could not move further. Now observing this wind, it pervades the dharmadhātu, clear and unmoving, tranquil and formless. Investigating the reason for this movement, it all arises from conditions. For example, in a sealed room, if one says there is wind, why does the wind not move? If one says there is no wind, when it meets conditions it immediately arises. If one waves a fan across the dharmadhātu, it will arise to fill the dharmadhātu. Hence we know that the wind element does not move; movement belongs to conditions. If outside in the open space of the ten directions, even without being waved by a person, it arises on its own, this is also caused by dragons, giant clams, ghosts, and spirits. Because ghosts and spirits belong to yin, winds are more frequent toward evening. Furthermore, the winds of formation and destruction at the beginning and end of a kalpa are all stimulated by the karma of sentient beings. In the world, not a single phenomenon does not arise from conditions. When conditions gather, it arises; when conditions disperse, it perishes. If one grasps that things arise naturally of themselves, they should only ever arise continuously; how could they be fluctuating and erratic, with movement and quietude having no constancy? Therefore we know all arise from conditions. Furthermore, investigating the various conditions harmonising to accomplish a thing: individually they do not exist, and in harmony they do not exist either. In condition after condition, none possesses an intrinsic nature; it is merely the mind moving. Turning back to investigate one's own mind, the mind also does not move. Because the mind is formless, the place from which it arises cannot be found. Thus one knows all arise from the true nature, and the true nature does not arise. Only then does one see that the mind-nature pervades the nature of the four great elements; its substance accords with true emptiness, and its nature has neither movement nor quietude. Because movement is manifested through characteristics, and quietude is contrasted with movement: once the characteristic of movement is absent, the defilement of quietude is also extinguished. Therefore the *Śūraṅgamasūtra* says: 'The nature of wind is true emptiness; the nature of emptiness is true wind.' Furthermore, how could the principle of immutability be separate from the realm of shaking and movement? How could the purport of non-arising go beyond the gate of arising and perishing? Therefore the *Vajrasamādhisūtra* says: 'The meaning of what arises from causes and conditions is that this meaning is cessation, not arising. To extinguish all meanings of arising and perishing is that this meaning is arising, not cessation.' For this reason, arising is constantly non-arising, and non-arising is constantly arising. If one penetrates it in this way, one will not fall into annihilationism or eternalism, and one can correctly understand the meaning of the immutability of the one mind. As a former master of virtue said: 'The nature of things has no difference; when awakened to, it is true principle. Truth is immutable, and things are inherently clear and still. Confined by conventional sentiments, people falsely assume movement within the unmoving. The substance of the Way is deep and silent; the path of words is profound and subtle. That which is used daily without being known is that things do not mutate. Phenomena and images can be observed, so they are called "things." The substance of things each abides [in its own state], hence it is named "immutable." Because it is immutable, following the current it is clear and pure; because it is a thing, it mutually relies upon the four characteristics. Hence we know that non-arising does not fail to arise, and formlessness does not fail to take form. That which dwells in nature and characteristics while maintaining oneness is the *Treatise on Immutability*.' Therefore the *Treatise on Immutability* says: 'Therefore the Tathāgata, in accordance with what the masses cling to, adopted regional expressions to resolve their confusion. Resting upon the non-dual true mind, he voiced distinct teachings that were not one. Contradictory yet impossible to differentiate—could that be anything other than the holy words? Therefore, speaking of truth, there is the term "immutability"; guiding the worldly, there is the discourse of "flowing and moving." Although there are a thousand paths and varied chants, their convergence leads to the same destination. But those who cling to the literal text, upon hearing "immutability," assert that things of the past do not reach the present; and those who listen to "flowing and moving" assert that things of the present can reach the past. Since they speak of past and present, why should they wish to mutate them? Therefore, when we speak of "passing away," there is not necessarily a passing away; past and present ever abide because they do not move. When we say "departing," there is not necessarily a departing; we mean it does not go from the present to the past, because it does not come. Because it does not come, it does not gallop between past and present; because it does not move, each nature abides in a single age. That being so, although various texts have distinct phrasing and the hundred schools have divergent accounts, if one grasps their convergence, how could literal words confuse one? Therefore, what people call "abiding," I say has "departed"; what people call "departing," I say "abides." Thus, although departing and abiding differ, their purport is one. Hence the scripture says: "Right words seem contradictory; who will believe them?" There is good reason for these words. Why? People seek the past in the present and claim it does not abide; I seek the present in the past and know it does not depart. If the present reached the past, in the past there should be the present; if the past reached the present, in the present there should be the past. In the present there is no past.'

[we] know that there is no coming; [the present] is in antiquity and does not [reach] the present, by which [we] know that there is no going. If antiquity does not reach the present, and the present also does not reach antiquity, each phenomenon abides in its own nature—what entity could possibly come or go? Thus, even though the four forms gallop like the wind and the revolving mechanism rolls like lightning, if one grasps the minute reality [of this], then despite such swiftness nothing moves. For this reason, the Tathāgata's meritorious deeds flow down through ten thousand generations yet perpetually remain, and his Way penetrates hundreds of kalpas yet becomes ever firmer. That the completion of a mountain relies upon the first basketful of earth, and that the long journey depends on taking the initial step, is truly because meritorious karma cannot decay. Because meritorious karma cannot decay, even though it lies in the past it does not transform; because it does not transform, it does not pass away; because it does not pass away, it remains pristine and serene. Thus the sūtra states: 'Though the three disasters inundate [the world], karmic actions remain pristine.' We truly believe these words. Why so? An effect is not simultaneous with its cause; rather, it is because of the cause that there is an effect. Because of the cause there is an effect, so the cause does not perish in the past. An effect is not simultaneous with its cause, so the cause does not come into the present. Neither perishing nor coming, the principle of non-passing-away is thereby made evident. What doubt remains regarding going and staying, and why hesitate between motion and rest? Therefore, though heaven and earth were to turn upside down, do not say that there is no tranquility; though a great flood should rise to the sky, do not say that it moves. If one can unite one's spirit with the phenomena themselves, this can be understood without looking far. An ancient commentary states: 'The preceding statement that antiquity and the present each abide in their own nature within a single period and do not interact between each other would imply that youth and old age do not share the same physical form. If one is fixed as an infant, there would be no crawling stage, and going all the way to old age there would be no continuity, thus losing the Dharma of kinship: there would be neither father nor son. Only the infant would have a father, while crawling and old age would have no share in it. Then the former meritorious deeds would be lost, incurring the fault of annihilationism. From this it is made clear that the flow of meritorious deed relies upon the first basketful of earth, the first step, and the continuity of cause and effect without loss: neither annihilated nor eternal, neither identical nor different, neither coming nor going. Hence the principle of non-passing-away is perfectly correct.' To ride upon the non-dual true mind and utter distinct teachings that are not identical means that the holy sages, relying on the correct source of the one mind, accommodate dispositions and expound diverse traces of teaching. Although the nine schools and eight teachings differ, non-passing-away is not deficient in a single thought-moment. Thus it is said that although a thousand paths sing differing songs, they converge into the same import. Yet those who follow the words and lose sight of the purport merely cling to the provisional door's statements of arising and ceasing, falsely seeing phenomena of the world as coming and going. Due to this, they assume there is flux, and samsara follows the conditions. They completely fail to know that birth, death, coming, and going are ultimately devoid of intrinsic nature. Therefore, the Madhyamakaśāstra refutes the three times as having no going: first, there is no going in what has already gone, because the act of going has already passed away; second, there is no going in what has not yet gone, because the act of going has not yet arisen; third, there is no going in the time of going, because in the midst of going there is no abiding. Furthermore, the goer and the act of going—both things are non-existent. If there is no goer, then there is no act of going, nor is there a spatial location. The goer is the person; since the dharma is brought about by the person, apart from the person there is no dharma, and apart from the dharma there is no person. Thus the commentary says: 'By observing the direction, one knows of his going, but the goer does not arrive at the direction.' This clarifies that within the three times there is neither going nor coming, so as to expound non-passing-away. For instance, when a person first stands upright in the east without moving, he is said to have 'not yet gone.' Because he has not yet gone, 'not yet gone' cannot be called 'going.' If he takes one step and leaves the place where he originally stood, looking back at the original place is called 'having already gone.' Because he has already gone, 'having already gone' cannot be called 'going.' A confused person then shifts his view and asserts: 'Where there is movement, there is going; in this there is the time of going, which is neither already gone nor not yet gone. Therefore, in the time of going one goes.' Nāgārjuna then refutes this through mutual dependence, stating: 'If there were already gone and not yet gone, then there would be a time of going; if there were no already gone and not yet gone, there would be no time of going.' Hence the verse says: 'Apart from already gone and not yet gone, / There is also no going at the time of going.' Just as because of two short ends there is an intermediate long one, if there are not two short ends, then there is no intermediate long one. Piṅgala then refutes this through contradiction, saying: 'Why so? The time of going refers to half-gone and half-not-yet-gone, which is called the time of going; then within a single dharma there would be two contradictory extremes, and the meaning of going would not be established. Therefore, there is also no going at the time of going.' Hence the verse says: 'What has already gone has no going, / What has not yet gone also has no going; / Apart from already gone and not yet gone, / There is also no going at the time of going.' For example, when a person walks from the east to the west, observing his path from east to west appears as though there were going; thus it is said 'one knows of his going.' However, in step after step, within the three times there is no going, and so there is no act of going. Since there is no act of going, there is no going person who goes from here to there. Thus it is said: 'The goer does not arrive at the direction.' 'The goer' refers to the person. The one sūtra and one treatise cited above both clarify that within the three times there is no going, thereby indicating the source and expounding non-passing-away. This non-passing-away of coming, going, cause, and effect accords with the intention of the Eightfold Negation of the Middle Way. As the treatise verse says: 'Neither arising nor ceasing, / Neither eternal nor annihilated, / Neither identical nor different, / Neither coming nor going; / Being able to expound these causes and conditions, / He skillfully extinguishes all conceptual proliferation; / I bow my head and pay homage to the Buddha, / Supreme among all teachers.' Now, through cause and effect, we correlate and interpret the meaning of the Eightfold Negation. As for 'neither arising': taking the age of twenty as the cause and the age of thirty as the effect, if the present thirty could exist apart from twenty, one might say there is arising; but if one is apart from twenty, thirty cannot be obtained—therefore, there is no arising. Thus the Madhyamakaśāstra states: 'Apart from the grain at the beginning of the kalpa, present-day grain cannot be obtained; therefore, there is no arising.' As for 'not ceasing': the time of twenty is not non-existent [in its result], hence it does not cease. If the time of twenty ceased, the present time of thirty should not exist. The Madhyamakaśāstra states: 'If it ceased, there should now be no grain; yet grain truly exists; therefore, it does not cease.' As for 'not eternal': at the time of thirty there is no time of twenty; therefore, it is not eternal. The Madhyamakaśāstra states: 'Just as when grain sprouts the seed decays, therefore it is not eternal.' As for 'not annihilated': due to twenty, thirty exists in continuous succession; therefore, it is not annihilated. The Madhyamakaśāstra states: 'Just as from grain there is a sprout, therefore it is not annihilated; if it were annihilated, there should be no succession.' As for 'not identical': twenty and thirty do not share the same substance, but abide in their respective natures; therefore, they are not identical. The Madhyamakaśāstra states:

Just as grain does not make the sprout, and the sprout does not make the grain, therefore they are not one. As for their not being different: [a person aged] thirty is not separate from [that person aged] twenty; if at twenty their surname was Zhang, at thirty it is not different. The Madhyamakaśāstra says: "If they were different, why distinguish grain sprout, grain stalk, and grain leaf? Therefore they are not different." As for not coming: the age of twenty does not arrive at the time of thirty; therefore it does not come. As for not going out: at the time of twenty, it is naturally tranquil in its own place and does not arise again; therefore it does not go out. One who penetrates this principle is free from all conceptual proliferation and accords with the Middle Way; this is the ultimate truth. Thus we know that within the ultimate truth, not a single phenomenon can be apprehended; how could there be going and coming? As the Mahāparinirvāṇasūtra says: "At that time the World-Honoured One asked that bodhisattva: 'Good son, did you come by arriving, or did you come by not arriving?' Bodhisattva Vaiḍūryaprabha said: 'World-Honoured One, I did not come by arriving, nor did I come by not arriving. As I observe this meaning, there is no coming at all. World-Honoured One, if conditioned formations were permanent, there would also be no coming; if they were impermanent, there would also be no coming. If someone sees the existence of a sentient being's nature, for them there is coming and not coming. I now do not see any fixed nature of sentient beings; how could I say there is coming and not coming? Those with pride see going and coming; those without pride have no going and coming. Those who grasp at practices see going and coming; those who do not grasp at practices have no going and coming. If one sees the Tathāgata as entering ultimate nirvāṇa, then there is going and coming; if one does not see the Tathāgata as entering ultimate nirvāṇa, then there is no going and coming. If one does not hear of the Buddha-nature, then there is going and coming; for one who hears of the Buddha-nature, there is no going and coming.'" The Prajñāpradīpaśāstra asks: "Do you call the initial departure that of one who has already gone, of one who has not yet gone, or of one who is presently going? All three are incorrect. As the verse says: / 'There is no departure in what has already gone, / Nor is there departure in what has not yet gone; / There is no departure in what is presently going; / Where could there be departure?' / The commentary says: 'There is no departure in what has already gone' means that the function of going has already ceased therein. 'Nor is there departure in what has not yet gone' means that in the absence of moving there is no going; going is not so. 'There is no departure in what is presently going' means that in both what has already gone and what has not yet gone, the meaning of going is absent; how could it be said that there is going in what is presently going? Thus in all three cases, there is no initial departure. Therefore the verse says: 'Where could there be departure?' / Furthermore, a verse says: / 'There is no "already gone" or "not yet gone", / Nor is there that "presently going"; / Within phenomena devoid of going, / Why falsely discriminate?' / The commentary says: 'Falsely discriminate' is like a person with cataracts seeing hairs, flies, and the like in empty space; all lack substance. / Furthermore, a verse says: / 'Therefore going lacks inherent nature; / The goer is also likewise; / What is presently going and all phenomena / Are entirely non-existent.' / Furthermore, a verse says: / 'An unextinguished phenomenon does not cease; / An already extinguished phenomenon does not cease; / What is presently ceasing also does not cease; / Being unproduced, what could cease?' / The commentary says: As for the first line, it is because cessation is empty, like remaining. As for the second line, it is like a person who has already died not dying again. As for the third line, apart from those phenomena already extinguished and not yet extinguished, there is no other time of ceasing, because both errors would apply. Therefore it is definitely known that what is presently ceasing does not cease. As for the fourth line, what does it mean? Because all phenomena are unproduced. Saying 'unproduced' means that the characteristic of production is non-existent. For the unproduced to have cessation is untenable, like the son of a barren woman. / And furthermore, as to your claim of cessation: does an existent entity cease, or does a non-existent entity cease? Both are incorrect. As the verse says: / 'If a phenomenon has an existent entity, / Being existent, it has no characteristic of cessation.' / The commentary says: Because they are contradictory, like water and fire. Because of this, the verse says: / 'For one phenomenon to have both existence and non-existence / Is not logically admissible.' / Furthermore, the verse says: / 'If a phenomenon lacks an existent entity, / For cessation to exist is also untenable; / Just as with the absence of a second head, / One cannot speak of its being cut off.' / Therefore, since phenomena of coming and going do not exist, a time of staying and abiding also does not exist. Because time is elucidated dependent on phenomena, and phenomena are also distinguished dependent on time; since phenomena do not exist, how could time be established? As the Madhyamakaśāstra verse says: / 'Time abiding cannot be apprehended; / Time passing can also not be apprehended; / If time cannot be apprehended, / How can the characteristics of time be spoken of? / Dependent on things, therefore time exists; / Apart from things, how could time exist? / Things themselves are already non-existent; / How much more so could time exist?' / The commentary says: The citations and proofs above point directly to the mundane world; all distinguish the real directly within the phenomenal, and see the Way from the ordinary. Direct evidence right before our eyes can put an end to doubts. The phenomenon of going being like this, even the transmigration through the six destinies and the succession of the four seasons are all the Way of the unmoving, ever-abiding one mind. This being so, though diverse texts have varied phrasing and the hundred schools have divergent doctrines, if one grasps their congruence, how could words and phrases mislead? If one penetrates that the ten thousand phenomena are only our one mind, and observes that the nature of this mind has never yet been produced, how could one speak of cessation? When even stillness cannot be apprehended, how could one speak of movement? Just as at the Śūraṅgama assembly, the Tathāgata thereupon bent the fingers of his five-wheeled hand in the midst of the great assembly; having bent them, he opened them again, and having opened them, he bent them again. He said to Ānanda: 'What do you see now?' Ānanda said: 'I see the Tathāgata's palm with a hundred jewel wheels opening and closing in the midst of the assembly.' The Buddha said to Ānanda: 'When you see my hand opening and closing in the midst of the assembly, is it my hand that has opening and closing, or is it your seeing that has opening and closing?' Ānanda said: 'World-Honoured One, the precious hand opens and closes in the assembly; I see the Tathāgata's hand opening and closing of itself, not that the nature of my seeing of itself opens and closes.' The Buddha said: 'Which is moving and which is still?' Ānanda said: 'The Buddha's hand does not abide, whereas the nature of my seeing does not even have stillness; what could be non-abiding?' The Buddha said: 'So it is.' [...] 'How is it that you now take movement to be your body and movement to be your environment, from beginning to end producing and ceasing in thought after thought, abandoning your true nature and conducting affairs in an inverted manner? When the nature of your mind loses truth, you mistake things for yourself, transmigrating therein and bringing about samsaric wandering upon yourself.' Therefore we know that the seeing nature does not move, its principle pervading the dharmadhātu; it is merely that by mistaking things for oneself, one turns one's back on enlightenment and conforms to dust. If one takes movement to be the body

and takes movement to be the environment, one conducts affairs in an inverted manner, and the nature of one's mind loses truth. The environment actually does not move; it is only the mind that falsely moves. This may be called 'the clouds rush and the moon appears to travel; the boat moves and the shore appears to shift.' Therefore the treatise says: 'Therefore, to speak of the past does not necessarily mean passing away; past and present ever abide because they do not move. To refer to going does not necessarily mean departing; it means not proceeding from the present to the past, because it does not come. Because it does not come, it does not race between past and present; because it does not move, each nature abides in a single age.' This means that each and every phenomenon abides in its position of tathatā: not a single thing comes or goes, nor has it ever stayed for a single thought-moment; none depend on one another. How is this not non-movement? If one can penetrate thus, one's own eye will be completely clear; how could illusory dust that merely seems to exist or divergent doctrines of a single era mislead me? Furthermore, an ancient commentary says: 'The divergent doctrines of the hundred schools—how could words and phrases mislead?' This clarifies being unconfused regarding the three teachings, each of which establishes its own source. Confucianism has twenty-seven schools; if one accords with the principle of the five constants, one will be unconfused. Huang-Lao has twenty-five schools; if one accords with emptiness and non-being, one will also be unconfused. The Buddha has the twelve divisions of teaching; if one realizes the fundamental mind, one will also be unconfused. However, though the three teachings differ, if subsumed under the dharmadhātu, they have no separate source. As for the two teachings of Confucius and Laozi and the hundred philosophers and nine currents of thought, spoken of generally, they do not depart from the dharmadhātu, just like the hundred rivers returning to the great sea. As for the Buddha's complete school and the wondrous purport of the ekayāna, spoken of specifically, the hundred schools are like firefly light—how could they equal the great illumination?—just as the great sea does not return to the hundred rivers. 'This being so, though the four images race like the wind and the revolving mechanism turns like lightning, if one grasps the meaning of the infinitesimal, though swift, there is no turning.' 'The four images' are the four seasons. 'The revolving mechanism' is the seven stars of the Northern Dipper. Though cold comes and heat goes, the dipper turns and stars shift, lightning flashes and winds gallop, not abiding for a kṣaṇa; if one grasps the meaning and understands the infinitesimal, secret purport of the one mind, one sees the nature and is unmoving. As for 'the fruit does not coexist with the cause; due to the cause, there is the fruit': for example, in making a high mountain, initially overturning one basket of earth serves as the cause, until piling earth completes the mountain. This initial single basket of earth, though it has not yet formed the mountain and the beginning does not arrive at the end, is also not annihilated; and ultimately, because of this single basket of earth, the mountain is completed. Therefore it is said: 'The fruit does not coexist with the cause; due to the cause, there is the fruit. Due to the cause, there is the fruit: the cause is not destroyed in the past. The fruit does not coexist with the cause: the cause does not come into the present. Not destroyed and not coming, the principle of non-movement is thereby clear.' Furthermore, just as a journey of a thousand li begins with the first step, though one does not arrive immediately and the fruit does not coexist with the cause, yet entirely due to the merit of the first step one is able to reach the road of a thousand li; thus, due to the cause, there is the fruit. Therefore it is said: 'Completing a mountain relies on its inception from the initial basket; undertaking a long journey is entrusted to arriving at the first step.' Furthermore, just as the cause of initially giving rise to a single wholesome thought of bodhicitta ultimately accomplishes the fruit of unexcelled wondrous awakening, that initial single thought is not lost; if the initial single thought had already ceased, one would not be able to accomplish the fruit of Buddhahood. Therefore it is said: 'Therefore, the Tathāgata's merit flows down ten thousand generations and ever persists; the Way penetrates a hundred kalpas and becomes all the firmer.' Because it neither ceases nor comes, accomplishments are achieved and karma is completed; causes are not vainly abandoned, and actions are not in vain. Thus we know that the ten thousand phenomena are entirely unmoving. How could one hesitate any further between movement and stillness? If one can clarify the source when contacting circumstances and accord in spirit directly with things, then even if heaven overturns and earth inverts, or the seas boil and mountains collapse, one still does not see the omens of movement and stillness, how much less so for the rest of illusory transformations, shadows, and echoes?