宗鏡錄 44.3

Answer: The ultimate teaching is entirely for those who have not yet understood. In the transmissions from above, none fail to point it out. For example, when National Preceptor Zhong was approaching death, a student begged him for a single word. The master said: ‘The scriptures have explicit text: act in accordance with them and you will be without entanglement. What need is there for me to speak?’ With such an earnest and genuine entrustment, how could one confine oneself to one’s own views, give rise to haughty pride, and rashly deprecate the Tathāgata’s unsurpassed ambrosia, the inconceivable holy teaching proclaimed from his golden mouth and perfumed by great compassion? As for what is called ‘acting in accordance with them’, to what purport should one accord? One cannot act in accordance with written words and phrases, nor can one act in accordance with intellectual pathways and rational principles; one must directly and personally awaken to that source and not give rise to recklessness. If one decisively believes and enters, one clearly knows for oneself—what need is there for another’s words? Hearing the profound Dharma is like a pure breeze reaching the ear. Now, solely for the sake of those who are blind to the nature and cling to the letter, provisional verbal explanations are used as expedient means to disclose it: pointing straight to the present functioning of the six sense faculties as the permanently abiding nature free from arising and ceasing, which is no different from the Buddha. Personally realized and immediately known, distinct and free from doubt, one avoids being turned by words and does not pursue the flow of sensory realms. Now, among the six sense faculties, we point out the two natures of seeing and hearing: they are the most manifest, can test a beginner’s mind, swiftly enter complete penetration, and return together to the mirror of the source. As for seeing nature: at the very moment of seeing, that is one’s own nature. Because the nature pervades all places, one cannot use the nature to see the nature again. Distinctly and clearly revealed, not a hairsbreadth is concealed. An ancient teaching says: ‘The maṇi palace has four corners; one corner is constantly exposed.’ An ancestral master says: ‘The eye-gate emits light, illuminating and shattering the mountains, rivers, and great earth.’ A song also says: ‘When meeting the eye, it is like a thousand suns; / Myriad forms cannot escape its shadow and substance. / Ordinary people simply have not yet observed it; / How can they belittle themselves and retreat in defeat?’ Thus we know that though one’s countenance may range from youth to decrepitude, the seeing-nature has never diminished. Light and dark come and go on their own, but the numinous radiance is never obscured. This is to point out the unarising and unceasing nature within the present arising and ceasing. Only then does one know that the jewel in the poor son’s robe is the pearl in the Wheel-Turning King’s topknot, and the gold in the poor woman’s room is an object within the tathāgatagarbha. Why rely on exalting the supreme sages while despising oneself as an inferior ordinary being, seeking solely outward and unable to introspect, wasting effort for many kalpas, turning one’s back on one’s own numinous nature, vainly stagnating at the gates of practice, and losing one’s original true nature? Therefore, the Śūraṅgama-sūtra says: ‘The Buddha told Ānanda: “When you see, it is you, not me. The seeing-nature is all-pervading; if not you, who is it? Why do you doubt your own true nature, take your nature to be untrue, and look to me seeking reality?”’ Thus we know that the distinctions between light and dark are phenomena that can be returned, while the wondrous nature of tathatā is the gate that does not shift. If one observes following things, one is confined to the location of large and small; if one sees from the perspective of the nature, it transcends the square and round of vessels. Seeing the nature, one instantly becomes a Tathāgata, erecting precious lands of the ten directions on the tip of a single hair; pursuing things, one becomes an ordinary person, manifesting the prisons of the six destinies within true emptiness. The transformation lies in the person, while the one nature does not differ; delusion and awakening depend on oneself, while the myriad dharmas do not shift. As the sūtra says: ‘King Prasenajit rose to his feet and said to the Buddha: “In the past, before I received the instructions and admonitions of the Buddhas, I met Kātyāyana and Vairāṭīputra, who both said: ‘After this body dies, it is annihilated; this is called nirvāṇa.’ Although I have now encountered the Buddha, I still harbor lingering doubts. How can it be demonstrated and certified that this mind is the ground free from arising and ceasing? In this great assembly, all those with outflows wish to hear.” The Buddha said to the great king: “Your body is now present, so I ask you again: is this physical body of yours permanently abiding and imperishable like a vajra, or does it change and decay?” “World-Honoured One, this body of mine will ultimately undergo change and extinction.” The Buddha said: “Great King, you have not yet perished; how do you know you will perish?” “World-Honoured One, although this impermanent, decaying body of mine has not yet perished, when I observe it at present, it changes and wanes thought by thought, never remaining new, like fire turning to ash, gradually dwindling and vanishing without cease. I know with certainty that this body must end in complete extinction.” The Buddha said: “So it is, Great King. Your age has now advanced into decline and old age. How does your countenance compare to when you were a child?” “World-Honoured One, when I was an infant, my skin and flesh were soft and glossy; when I reached maturity, my blood and qi were full. But now in my declining years, pressed by decrepitude and old age, my physical form is withered and haggard, my vitality dim and confused, my hair white and face wrinkled, and my time is nearly up. How could I compare to when I was in my prime?” The Buddha said: “Great King, your form should not have decayed all at once.” The king said: “World-Honoured One, the change moved secretly; I truly was unaware of it. Cold and heat shifted and flowed, gradually bringing me to this state. Why is this? When I was twenty, though called young, my countenance was already older than at ten. At thirty, I was more declined than at twenty. Now at sixty-two, when I look back to fifty, I was still robust. World-Honoured One, I see that this secret movement, though leading to this demise, had shifts during that period that I measured in ten-year spans. If you make me reflect finely, could its change be only in twelve- or twenty-four-year cycles? It truly changed by years! And how could it be only changing by years? It also altered with months. Why only alter with months? It further shifted with days. Contemplating deeply and observing closely, from kṣaṇa to kṣaṇa, between thought and thought, it never stops. Therefore I know that my body will ultimately undergo change and extinction.” The Buddha said: “Great King, you see change and alteration shifting without cease, and awakened to the knowledge that you will perish; but at the time of perishing, do you also know that within your body there is that which does not perish?” King Prasenajit pressed his palms together and said to the Buddha: “I truly do not know.” The Buddha said: “I will now show you the nature free from arising and ceasing. Great King, at what age did you see the water of the Gaṅgā River?” The king said: “When I was three years old, my compassionate mother took me to pay respects to the goddess Jīvā. We crossed this river, and at that time I already knew it was the Gaṅgā River.” The Buddha said: “Great King, as you have said, at twenty you were declined compared to ten, and so on up to sixty, through days, months, years, and seasons.’

'[thought-moments] change in every thought-moment. Now, when you were three years old and looked upon this river, and then when you reached thirteen years of age, how was that water?' The King replied, 'It was just as when I was three years old, perfectly the same without difference, even down to the present when I am sixty-two, there is also no difference.' The Buddha said, 'You now lament that your hair is white and your face is wrinkled. Your face is certainly more wrinkled than in your childhood; then when you view this Ganges River now, compared to the sight of viewing the river in childhood past, is there youth and old age [in that seeing]?' The King replied, 'No, World-Honoured One.' The Buddha said, 'Great King! Although your face is wrinkled, the nature of this essential seeing has never wrinkled. That which wrinkles undergoes change; that which does not wrinkle does not change. That which changes is subject to cessation; that which does not change originally has no arising or ceasing. How could it undergo your birth and death within it, yet you still cite such [teachers] as Maskarin [Gośālīputra] and others who all say that this body is completely annihilated after death?' When the King heard these words, he believed and knew that after this body [perishes], one abandons this life and proceeds to another life. Together with the great assembly, he danced with joy, having attained what he had never had before. Furthermore, as among the eight consciousnesses of sentient beings, the first five sense-faculties of eye, ear, nose, tongue, and body, as well as the eighth consciousness, all take direct perception (pratyakṣa) as their cognitive condition and grasp the self-nature of phenomena without bearing any names or words, and are also without the two kinds of conceptual discrimination—calculative discrimination and recollective discrimination; thus they are immediately manifest, non-arising, and non-ceasing. If it is the sixth and seventh consciousnesses, they fall into the two pramāṇas of inference and non-perception, and possess both calculative and recollective discrimination; thus in every thought-moment they constantly arise and cease. This is also having a non-arising and non-ceasing nature within arising and ceasing. The above is the scriptural text. This is because King Ajātaśatru displayed doubt, and in order to refute the heterodox view of annihilationism, there was this skillful means distinguishing the two natures of arising-and-ceasing and non-arising-and-ceasing. If a person does not cling to annihilationism or eternalism and sees the nature, then the eight consciousnesses as sovereign minds share the identical one true nature; they are all the true mark, devoid of arising and ceasing. As the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa states: 'You should know that when form arises, it is merely emptiness arising; when form ceases, it is merely emptiness ceasing.' A verse in the Madhyamakaśāstra states: 'No thing arises from conditions; no thing ceases from conditions. Arising is merely conditions arising; ceasing is merely conditions ceasing.' Therefore we know that the myriad phenomena neither arise from conditions nor do they not arise from conditions. Furthermore, they are neither non-empty nor do they arise; being empty, they also do not arise. Why is this? If all phenomena were non-empty, then there would be no arising, because it is by their emptiness of self-nature that they are able to follow conditions and form all illusory existences. If all phenomena were empty, there would also be no arising, because lacking self-substance, there would be no mark of arising. Since there is no arising, there is also no ceasing. As the treatise verse states: 'The fruit is not non-empty and does not arise; the fruit is not non-empty and does not cease. Because the fruit is not non-empty, it neither arises nor ceases. The fruit is empty, therefore it does not arise; the fruit is empty, therefore it does not cease. Because the fruit is empty, it neither arises nor ceases.' They merely manifest according to the mind, and are ultimately without arising. As the Śūraṅgamasūtra states: 'The Buddha said: Good men, I have constantly said that all conditions of form and mind, as well as mental factors and all conditioned dharmas, are merely manifestations of the mind. Your bodies and your minds are all objects manifested within the wondrous, luminous, true essence of the wondrous mind. Why do you lose your fundamentally wondrous, completely wondrous luminous mind and your precious luminous wondrous nature, accepting delusion within awakening? It is dimmed and clouded into emptiness; within the dim and clouded emptiness, darkness congeals into form. Form is intermingled with false thoughts, and thoughts take form as the body. Condensing conditions stir internally, and rush outwardly in pursuit; taking the confused and turbulent characteristics to be the mind-nature, once you are deluded regarding the mind, you determinately mistake it to be inside the physical body. You do not know that the physical body, outward to the mountains, rivers, empty space, and the great earth, are all objects within the wondrous luminous true mind. It is like abandoning hundreds of thousands of clear and calm great oceans, only grasping at the body of a single floating bubble and regarding it as the entire ocean, exhausting all the vast seas. You are indeed doubly deluded among the deluded. Just as my hand hanging down has no difference [from hanging up], the Tathāgata calls such people pitiable.' As stated above, the seeing-nature is all-pervading and serene, like a mirror constantly bright, like empty space unmoving. The myriad images naturally appear and disappear, while the single nature has never come or gone. Merely following the conditions of arising and ceasing, one abandons this wondrous luminous nature. Therefore all ancestral teachings point to seeing the nature and recognizing the mind; it is not produced by generative causes, but is only revealed by revealing causes. The characteristics are coarse and easy to distinguish; the nature is subtle and hard to comprehend. Where it follows transformations, it is not known; when in illumination, it is then understood. Those who do not see it now are all led astray by the mind of the three delusions, shifted by the objects of the six sense-dusts, not knowing that the objective realms are originally oneself, turning around so that the host is deluded by the guest. If one can merely grasp the nature while following the flow, naturally there will be no doubt. Furthermore, there are those who say: 'Prajñā is only united through spiritual resonance; transmitting mind with mind, it only then forms the secret transmission; it cannot be sought through verbal traces or phenomenal appearances.' This was stated for those who have not yet entered, to reveal the source and break attachments, fearing that they would grasp marks, turn their backs on the mind, and seek understanding through sentimental concepts; hence this was said. If we discuss it synthetically, then following conditions, its substance is wondrous, and identical with characteristics, it is ever true. Furthermore, when one correctly sees a characteristic, who is it that sees the characteristic? Because the six sense-dusts are dull, names do not establish themselves, and characteristics do not display themselves. Because the six sense-faculties are sharp, they forcibly establish themselves as cognitive objects. If one can understand that the objective realm is fundamentally quiescent, consciousness is naturally unproduced; then entering equal true emptiness, this alone can be called the ultimate seeing of the nature. Therefore it is said: 'The seeing-nature is all-pervading; if it is not you, who is it?' As for the hearing-nature: the present hearing-nature possesses three realities. Mañjuśrī selected it, and it can be known by immediate realization. Avalokiteśvara entered the gate, and the perfect penetration was immediately verified. It is not obtained through practice; it does not fall into the conditioned; how could it rely on effort to be accomplished? It is fundamentally like this. A verse in the Śūraṅgamasūtra states: 'For example, when a person resides quietly, / and drums are beaten simultaneously in the ten directions, / they are heard at once in the ten places; / this then is the reality of roundness. / The eyes cannot see beyond an obstruction, / and the mouth and nose are likewise so; / the body knows only by contact, / and mental thoughts are tangled without order. / Hearing sounds across a wall, / both far and near can be heard; / the five faculties are not equal [to it]— / this then is the reality of penetration. / The nature of sound is movement and stillness, / which in hearing are presence and absence. / Absence of sound is called not hearing, / not that hearing truly lacks its nature. / Since the absence of sound does not perish...'

Sound exists, yet does not arise. / Both arising and cessation are completely transcended: / this is the constant reality.' Commentary: This speaks directly of the principle of the three realities of the nature of hearing in the present everyday active functioning of all sentient beings: first, the perfect reality; second, the pervasive reality; third, the constant reality. First, as for the perfect reality: because the nature of hearing is omnipresent, the sound-dust of the ten directions responds in time without before or after; because it is simultaneously all-pervading, each and every one does not depart from one's own nature. It is like waves arising on water: the waves do not depart from the water. Because where there is sound, it is entirely hearing, and outside of hearing there is no phenomenon, this is original hearing, inherently possessing the nature of complete penetration; one does not wait to realize sagehood before having this matter. Therefore a verse of the Lotus Sūtra says: 'The ears born of mother and father / are pure and without blemish; / with these ordinary ears one hears / the sounds of the three-thousandfold world.' And it further says: 'One who upholds this Lotus [Sūtra], / though not yet having attained the divine ear, / merely uses the ears they were born with; / their merit is already like this.' Second, as for the pervasive reality: although the visual nature of the eye faculty is clear and penetrating, it can observe what is in front but cannot observe what is behind. The three faculties of nose, tongue, and body all perceive through contact, arising due to subject and object. As for the mental faculty, what it cognizes is not fixed, because it shifts from thought to thought. Thus the five faculties are not equal [to it]; only the ear faculty has complete penetration without obstruction. In listening to reverberations, regardless of obstructions, both distant and near are heard. In its wondrous response, without discrimination, both large and small are fully accommodated. Therefore the song of Venerable Gaocheng says: 'When responding at the ear, / it is like a secluded valley: / neither large nor small sounds are ever lacking. / When the bells and drums of the ten directions sound at once, / the spiritual light functions continuously without interruption.' Thus it does not decrease when residing in an ordinary body, nor does it increase when abiding in a noble body. Constantly manifesting and constantly pervasive, afflictive defilements cannot conceal its spiritual radiance; neither intermittent nor broken, heavenly māras cannot subdue its majestic light. It does not destroy the conditioned ear faculty, yet completely possesses the wondrous nature of the one spirit. Third, as for the constant reality: the nature of sounds has movement and stillness. Movement and stillness are the substance of sound; its nature seems to exist and seems not to exist within hearing. When there is no sound, it is called 'not hearing', but it is not that hearing truly lacks its nature, because the nature of hearing is constantly present. If the nature of hearing ceased along with the sound-dust, then when a former sound ceased, a later sound would not be heard again. Therefore one knows that the sound-dust naturally ceases to exist, while the nature of hearing does not cease; the sound-dust naturally comes to exist, while the nature of hearing does not arise. Furthermore, not only does the nature of hearing have no arising: when one examines the sound-dust in turn, it also has neither arising nor cessation. Because it arises from conditions, its self-substance is entirely non-existent. As the Huayan Treatise says: 'All phenomena are like valley echoes.' The Śūraṅgama Commentary and Subcommentary says: 'Just as there is no sound in a valley, and where there is no sound there is no echo, so in the dharmadhātu there is no sound at all. All sounds are merely the false mind. When the false mind does not stir, there are no false thoughts at all. Because there is the appropriation of a discriminating mind, there is sound. The four great elements are like withered wood, fundamentally having no sound; it is all due to attachment. The great bodhisattvas do not listen to the Dharma with sounds.' Hence we know that sound-dust fundamentally does not exist; it all exists because of attachment. When mental clinging melts away and attachment is lost, all phenomena are fundamentally empty. Since existence and non-existence are both empty, how could there be arising and cessation? One then knows that one's own nature is no different from the nature of the Tathāgata, because all worldly phenomena are themselves the Buddha-dharma. A sūtra says: 'These phenomena abide in their phenomenal status; / the worldly characteristics are constantly abiding.' It is like Kauṇḍinya, who awakened to the Way through sound, wondrous sound being secretly complete. An ancient commentary says: 'If there is subject and object, it cannot yet be called "secret". When he awakened to the principle of the Four Noble Truths, he deduced that both the hearing subject and the heard object are one's own citta. Citta is original awakening, radiant light completely illuminating the dharmadhātu. The wise mind of initial awakening also completely illuminates the dharmadhātu. This is gaining awakening through sound.' All sentient beings who cultivate this contemplation also attain liberation. If upon hearing sounds pleasant or unpleasant one generates hatred or love, one is bound by sound. Merely contemplate the place where these sounds emerge within the ocean of citta: because the ocean of citta fundamentally has no characteristics, although citta contains sound, sound also has no characteristics. Having no characteristics, one attains liberation amid all sounds. Therefore one knows that no phenomenon is not citta, and no citta is not a phenomenon. Being clearly comprehended in this way, then with respect to all phenomena, there is neither joining nor parting, neither bondage nor liberation. Thus the Buddha told Ānanda: 'You have studied much hearing, but have not exhausted the outflows. In your mind you merely know the cause of invertedness, but when true invertedness appears before you, you truly cannot recognize it. Fearing that your sincere mind has not yet believed and yielded, I shall now test you with worldly affairs to dispel your doubts.' Thereupon the Tathāgata ordered Rāhula to strike a bell once, and asked Ānanda: 'Do you hear now or not?' Ānanda and the great assembly all said: 'We hear.' When the bell ceased and there was no sound, the Buddha again asked: 'Do you hear now or not?' Ānanda and the great assembly all said: 'We do not hear.' At that time Rāhula struck it again once, and the Buddha again asked: 'Do you hear now or not?' Ānanda and the great assembly again said together: 'We hear.' The Buddha asked Ānanda: 'Why do you say you hear, and why do you say you do not hear?' Ānanda and the great assembly all addressed the Buddha: 'If the bell is struck, we hear it; when the striking ceases for a long time and the sound fades away, with both sound and echo severed, this is called not hearing.' The Tathāgata again ordered Rāhula to strike the bell, and asked Ānanda: 'Is there sound now or not?' Ānanda said: 'There is sound.' A moment later the sound faded, and the Buddha again asked: 'Is there sound now or not?' Ānanda and the great assembly answered: 'There is no sound.' Shortly thereafter, Rāhula came again and struck the bell, and the Buddha again asked: 'Is there sound now or not?' Ānanda and the great assembly all said: 'There is sound.' The Buddha asked Ānanda: 'Why do you say there is sound, and why do you say there is no sound?' Ānanda and the great assembly all addressed the Buddha: 'If the bell is struck, it is called having sound; when the striking ceases for a long time and the sound fades away, with both sound and echo severed, this is called having no sound.' The Buddha said to Ānanda and the great assembly: 'Why do you now speak with mutual contradiction and confusion?' The great assembly and Ānanda asked the Buddha at the same time: 'How are we contradictory and confused?' The Buddha said: 'When I asked you about hearing, you said hearing; when I asked you about sound, you said sound. Yet with hearing and sound, your answers have no consistency. How can this not be called contradictory and confused?'

"Ānanda, when sounds cease and there is no echo, you say there is no hearing. If there were truly no hearing, the nature of hearing would already have perished, identical to withered wood. When the bell is struck once more, how do you know it? Knowing there is [sound] and knowing there is no [sound] naturally belongs to the sense-data of sound, which may be absent or present. How could that nature of hearing be present or absent for you? If hearing were truly absent, who would know that it is absent? Therefore, Ānanda, sound naturally arises and ceases within hearing; it is not that your hearing arises and ceases with the sound, causing your nature of hearing to be present or absent. You are still so inverted as to confuse sound with hearing; what wonder is it that, in your stupor, you take the permanent to be severed? Under no circumstances should you say that apart from movement and stillness, obstruction and opening, hearing has no nature. Consider a deeply sleeping person asleep on their pillow: while they are sleeping, someone in the house pounds cloth and husks rice. In their dream, the person hears the sound of pounding and husking, but takes it for something else, either as the beating of a drum or the striking of a bell; and right in the dream, they wonder why the bell sounds like stone or wood. Suddenly waking up, they immediately recognize the sound of the pestle, and tell their family: 'Just when I was dreaming, I confused this pounding sound and took it to be the sound of a drum.' Ānanda, did this person in their dream recall stillness, movement, opening, obstruction, penetration, or blockage? Though their bodily form was asleep, the nature of hearing was not dimmed. Even if your form were to perish and the light of your life to pass away, how could this nature perish for you?" The commentary on the Śūraṅgamasūtra states: "Striking the bell to distinguish the true from the false: it is by means of the nature of hearing that the true can be recognized, and by adducing the sense-data of sound that the false is distinguished. If hearing existed because of sound, this hearing could not be separate from sound. If hearing exists apart from sound, this is true hearing. Now, you merely grasp at the hearing that follows sound. This hearing is not separate from sound; it can only be sound, it cannot be hearing. The true nature of hearing is like water, which does not perish; the sense-data of sound are like the wind, which agitates the water to form waves, hence the characteristic of hearing appears. When the sense-data of sound do not arise, the characteristic of hearing is absent, yet the nature of hearing does not perish. Because the nature does not perish, if the sense-data of sound come, the characteristic of hearing appears once more. Just as water does not perish, and when the wind moves there is the characteristic of waves; and just as the true nature of form pervades the realms of the ten directions, manifesting according to the stimulus of the mind so that characteristics of form appear—this nature of hearing is also like this." Thus we know that by failing to recognize the inherently permanent nature of hearing, and instead following the arising and ceasing characteristics of hearing associated with the sense-data of sound, one consequently gives rise to joy upon hearing praise and conceives anger upon hearing disparagement. It is because one is deluded about original hearing that one drifts along with sound. Mañjuśrī said: "Sentient beings are deluded about original hearing; / following sound, they thus drift along. / Even if Ānanda has a powerful memory, / he cannot avoid falling into erroneous thoughts. / Is this not sinking along with the objects? / Turning the flow back, one attains the unfictitious." He also said: "Turn back your inverted organ of hearing, / turn hearing inward to hear the self-nature; / once the nature is perfected, it is the unsurpassed path: / complete penetration is truly like this." Nowadays, taking sound to be hearing, turning one's back on the mind to pursue objects—is this not an inverted organ of hearing? If one can reverse the flowing stream of the sense-data of sound and return to the unfictitiousness of original hearing, this is turning hearing inward to hear the self-nature, attaining the source and returning to the origin. Internally, the cataract-afflicted sense-faculties are eradicated; externally, the dust-realms of sense-objects vanish. Subject and object having dropped away, the path of original awakening is accomplished, silent and illuminating, completely penetrating; it is truly like this. Therefore the Buddha said to Ānanda: "Because all sentient beings, from beginningless time, have followed forms and sounds, drifting along with each thought, they have never awakened to the purity, wondrousness, and permanence of the nature. Not following what is permanent, they pursue arising and ceasing; because of this, life after life, they drift in defilement. If they abandon arising and ceasing and guard the true and permanent, the permanent light manifests before them, and the sense-faculties, sense-data, and consciousness-mind fall away at once. Conceptual characteristics become dust; conscious sentiments become grime. When both are far removed, your Dharma-eye will at once become pure and bright: how could you fail to accomplish unsurpassed awareness?" Therefore, if one realizes the nature of hearing, one immediately attains correct awakening. Thereupon mind and objects are both fused, and movement and stillness are both obliterated. As Avalokiteśvara said: "That Buddha taught me to enter samādhi through hearing, contemplation, and cultivation. Initially within hearing, I entered the flow and forgot the object. The object entered having become quiescent, the two characteristics of movement and stillness clearly did not arise. Gradually increasing in this way, hearing and what is heard were extinguished. Not abiding in the exhaustion of hearing, awareness and what is made aware of became empty. When the emptiness of awareness became completely round, emptiness and what is made empty were extinguished. Arising and ceasing having been extinguished, quiescent cessation manifested before me. Suddenly I transcended the worldly and the supramundane; the ten directions were completely luminous, and I obtained two extraordinary supremacies: First, above, I united with the original wondrously awakened mind of the Buddhas of the ten directions, having the same compassionate power as the Buddha-Tathāgatas. Second, below, I united with all sentient beings of the six destinies in the ten directions, having the same sorrowful yearning as all sentient beings." Therefore, when initially entering from the nature of hearing, one first eliminates the realm of the sense-data of sound, movement and stillness; next, one eliminates the mind of the subject and object of hearing. Mind and object having both been eliminated, one furthermore does not abide in the realm devoid of mind, nor in the wisdom of the subject and object of awareness; then awareness and wisdom are both empty, and this emptiness is also empty—only then is perfect awakening accomplished. Hence it is said: "When the emptiness of awareness became completely round, emptiness and what is made empty were extinguished." Only then does one exhaust the source of arising and ceasing, arriving at the ground of the original wondrously awakened mind of quiescent cessation. As the Awakening of Faith says: "All dharmas have distinctions entirely due to false thoughts; if one is free from false thoughts, there are no characteristics of distinction among objective realms." Thus we know that when false thoughts are emptied, sense-faculties and sense-objects pass away; when consciousness and conceptions dissolve, dust and defilement sink away; then the Dharma-eye at once becomes pure and bright, and the permanent light is clearly and suddenly revealed. Since the original nature of seeing and hearing is thus, what is manifested by all the sense-faculties is also like this. Hence the sūtra says: "Because the six sovereign kings are constantly pure." Furthermore, a verse in the Śūraṅgamasūtra says: "Once one sense-faculty returns to the source, / all six sense-faculties attain liberation. / Seeing and hearing are like illusory cataracts; / the three realms are like flowers in the sky. / When hearing is restored, the cataract-faculty is removed; / when dust dissolves, awareness is completely pure. / When purity is utmost, the light penetrates unobstructed, / silently illuminating, encompassing empty space. / Looking back upon the world, / it is just like things in a dream." It is only because of not having awakened before that, within defilement and purity, wherever there is the slightest seeing, hearing, grasping, or rejecting, all of it lies within the long night of ignorance and the dream of birth and death in the three realms. The moment one attains the seeing of nature, one is identical to one who has awakened: awakening oneself and awakening others, one is therefore named a Buddha. Furthermore, this nature of one's own mind pervades all places and can be entered anywhere, not solely through seeing and hearing.

Or their ideation ceased in the realm of fragrance and they entered complete penetration; or their citta opened at dust realms and they realized the dharma-patience; or they entered the contemplation of water and realized nature; or they examined the wind's power and awakened to the source; or [like one who realizes that] a thorn's prick is merely pain, with pure awareness they abandoned the body; or they understood that the citta is boundless and entered the vision and knowledge of the Buddhas; or they contemplated warmth and touch and accomplished the fire-radiance samādhi; or they proclaimed the dharma sound and subjugated māras and foes. At this moment of great awakening, they ultimately do not see a single realm that can arise or a single word that can be grasped. Now, solely for those who are confused about nature and follow texts, who turn their backs on their citta and seek the Way, we resort to words to point back to their own citta, so that from here on they may contemplate inward, abandon expressions, and investigate the truth. How then could this not be awakening to the Way through words, clarifying the source by relying on the teachings? For such persons, this is not without benefit. It thus enables beginning students to have a foundation for their faith, to cease their outward seeking, turn the light around to shine back, suddenly see themselves, and clearly understand their own citta—just like directly drinking pure ghee and in person opening a treasure house. Only then do they awaken to the fault of following words and feel deep shame at the error of turning their backs on themselves. Therefore, after the World-Honored One opened and revealed their self-nature, Ānanda and others gave voice to words of personal rejoicing: 'This eliminates my upside-down thoughts of a hundred million kalpas, / Without traversing asaṃkhyeyas I attain the dharmakāya.' Hence they were able, without stirring their dust-like afflictions, to become Buddhas in this very body. The teachings spoken by the ancestral masters and the Buddhas possess such inconceivable power. Because of such vast and boundless dharma benefits, we quote the Buddha's full words in their entirety as proof. How could there instead be words that turn their backs on oneself, or the ridicule of debating texts? If one does not contemplate the citta and realize internally, the masters of the Vinaya, the Dharma, and Chán each have ten kinds of faults. As the Sūtra on Resolving Doubts Concerning the Semblance Dharma says: 'The three types of masters destroy the Buddha-dharma, having in brief ten faults each. As for the ten faults of Dharma masters: First, they only seek textual understanding externally and do not contemplate internally to cultivate the citta. The Śāstra says: "If there is exposition without wisdom, what is said should not be accepted." Second, they do not integrate the sūtras to extinguish disputes and approach the Way, but merely grasp at their own views and reject others, arrogance lifting them high, not recognizing that the citta of views is suffering and its origination. Third, they do not follow the bequeathed instructions, do not cultivate the Way relying on the applications of mindfulness, and do not abide by the prātimokṣa; they are not disciples of the Buddha. Fourth, a sūtra says: "Without dhyāna there is no wisdom; biased wisdom has no dhyāna; with only one wing or one wheel, how could one travel far?" Fifth, the Dharma is originally without explanation; if one preaches to overcome greed and seek fame and benefit in its propagation, how could one accord with the sage's intention? Sixth, they prize taking things into their ears and letting them out of their mouths—how does this benefit themselves? A sūtra says: "Like a man counting another's treasures, / Having not half a coin of his own." Proclaiming without practice, how does it benefit others? [Seventh,] again, they add much water to the milk, teaching a doctrine devoid of the Way, misleading younger students. Eighth, the four assemblies lose the benefit of the true Dharma, which becomes increasingly degraded. Ninth, not only can they not glorify the Buddha-dharma, they also destroy the Buddha-dharma. As for the ten faults of Chán masters: First, a sūtra says: "Falsely calling themselves araṇya-dwellers, / Wearing patchwork robes in open leisure, / Claiming to practice the true Way, / They delight in speaking of our faults." Second, relying on practice to mistreat others, they do not recognize the kleśas of suffering and origination in grasping at precepts. Third, cultivating concentration without wisdom, their blind dhyāna has no eyes; how could they escape birth and death? Fourth, they do not follow the bequeathed instructions, do not cultivate the Way relying on the applications of mindfulness, and do not abide by the prātimokṣa; they are not disciples of the Buddha. Fifth, dhyāna without wisdom mostly produces demonic concentrations; in life they destroy the Buddha-dharma, and at death they fall into the realm of pretas. Sixth, they sit in dhyāna for fame and benefit, like Śāṇḍila; at death they fall into hell. Seventh, even if they realize dhyāna, they immediately fall into the misfortune of long-lived gods. Eighth, teaching students a dhyāna like water mixed with milk, they inherit the seeds of the three evil destinies. Ninth, the four assemblies do not receive the moisture of the true Dharma, which becomes increasingly degraded. Tenth, not only can they not glorify the Three Jewels, they also destroy the Buddha-dharma. As for the ten faults of Vinaya masters: First, they only grasp at external vinaya and do not recognize internal precepts; thus they are rebuked by Vimalakīrti. Second, they grasp at the names and marks of the vinaya, disputing right and wrong, not recognizing that the citta of views is suffering and its origination. Third, precept, concentration, and wisdom assist one another, only then can one advance on the Way; with only vinaya and neither wisdom nor dhyāna, how could one advance on the Way? Fourth, their propagation lies in fame, their intent does not abide in the Way, and their retribution lies in the three evil destinies. Fifth, they do not follow the bequeathed instructions, do not cultivate the Way relying on the applications of mindfulness, and do not abide by the prātimokṣa. Sixth, they grasp at the vinaya's expedient, lesser teachings as the definitive truth, thereby obstructing the Great Way. Seventh, different masters grasp at the vinaya differently; in propagating it, they add much water to the milk. Eighth, they do not transmit according to the sage teachings, misleading and burdening later generations. Ninth, the four assemblies do not receive the true Dharma, which becomes increasingly degraded. Tenth, not only can they not glorify the Three Jewels, they also destroy the Buddha-dharma.' One should know that if one does not contemplate the citta, one will possess such great faults as described above. As the Mahāprajñāpāramitopadeśa says: 'If a bodhisattva-mahāsattva wishes not to eat the alms of the land in vain, he should train in the prajñāpāramitā.' The Ratnarāśisūtra also says: 'If one studies the Mahāyāna Buddha-dharma, receiving from donors a ball of food as large as Mount Sumeru, or receiving robes that could cover the great earth [is permissible]. If one does not study, then before being counted among the Saṅgha, throughout the ten directions there is not even a place where he may spit on the ground.' The Vimalakīrtisūtra also says: 'Revere learning as one does a teacher.' The moment a mind for learning arises, one already has a share in the realms of humans and gods. Or if one hears a single phrase of the Record of the Mirror of the Source, one will definitely become a Buddha without doubt. Therefore, the Lotus Sūtra says: 'If there are those who hear this Dharma, / Not one will fail to become a Buddha; / Except only those who have not heard it, / Blind and dark people who do not believe.' If they have already heard it, it is all due to past causes. Having already received the jewel in the robe and having once been close to the Buddha's assembly, one must not be negligent; one must diligently unfold and seek it. If one suddenly encounters contrary conditions, one will end up with nothing gained. Therefore the Yogācārabhūmiśāstra says: 'In unslackened application, one is moreover able to exert vigorous diligence in this way, saying: "I must now definitely advance toward realizing what ought to be realized; I should not be indolent or slow. Why? I face many kinds of causes and conditions for untimely death: namely, inside the body wind, heat, or phlegm may be stirred up, or the food and drink taken may not be properly digested and remain in the body, or there may be sickness from indigested food; or outside one may be bitten or stung by various fierce and poisonous creatures such as snakes, scorpions, house centipedes, and centipedes; or one may be frightened by humans, non-humans, and the like, and perish because of this." Regarding such occasions of untimely death, one constantly reflects and cultivates the thought of impermanence.